Caught In Daddy's Bed ( IV)

By the time Mom’s car pulled into the driveway that evening, I had already changed the sheets in Mark’s room, showered (though the faint scent of his c*m still lingered on my skin under my clothes), and tried to act normal. My p***y was sore but constantly throbbing, a humiliating reminder of how many times Daddy had used me. I wore a loose t-shirt and shorts with no panties, just like he’d ordered. Every step made me aware of how exposed I felt. Mom hugged me hello, chatting about her weekend. I smiled and nodded, but my eyes kept darting to Mark. He sat at the kitchen table, calm and authoritative as ever, sipping a beer. When Mom turned to unpack, he caught my gaze and mouthed one word: “Kitchen.” My stomach flipped. Heart pounding, I followed Mom into the kitchen to help. Mark waited until she went upstairs with her suitcase, then grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me against the counter, out of sight from the hallway. “On your knees, little girl,” he whispered harshly. “Quick. Daddy needs relief after pretending all evening.” I dropped instantly, the tile hard on my knees. He unzipped and pulled out his thick c**k, already semi-hard. I opened my mouth eagerly, taking him in. He gripped my hair and f****d my face with short, controlled thrusts, careful not to make too much noise. “That’s my good little stepslut,” he murmured. “Sucking Daddy’s c**k while your mother is right upstairs. Such a filthy secret.” I gagged softly as he hit the back of my throat. Saliva dripped down my chin onto my shirt. He held me deep for a few seconds, eyes locked on mine, then pulled out and stroked himself, shooting several thick ropes across my tongue and lips. I swallowed quickly, wiped the rest with my fingers, and licked them clean. “New rule number one,” he said, zipping up. “Whenever Mom is home but distracted, you serve Daddy immediately. No hesitation.” “Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, voice hoarse. The next few days blurred into a constant state of secret submission. Mark established the rules one by one, each more degrading than the last. Rule Two: No panties in the house, ever, when Mom wasn’t looking. I had to wear short skirts or dresses so he could access me easily. In the mornings, while Mom got ready for work, I’d bend over the kitchen island pretending to load the dishwasher. Mark would stand behind me, slide his fingers into my always-wet cunt, and finger-f**k me until my legs shook. One morning he pushed three thick fingers deep while Mom was in the shower upstairs. “Quiet, w***e,” he growled in my ear. “If she hears you moaning like a b***h in heat, this all ends.” I bit my lip hard, grinding back on his hand until I was right on the edge. He stopped abruptly. “No cumming without permission. Edge yourself three times today and send me proof videos.” I spent the day at home (I had no classes that week) desperately trying to obey. I filmed myself in my room, legs spread, rubbing my c**t frantically but stopping before o****m. Each video ended with me whimpering, “Please Daddy, I need to c*m for you.” He replied with short commands: “Good girl. Send the next one with a plug in your ass.” I obeyed, inserting the medium plug he’d bought me and filming another edging session. By the third, I was a dripping, desperate mess, humping my pillow while crying for release. That evening, after Mom went to bed early, Mark summoned me to his study. “Strip,” he ordered. I stood n***d in front of his desk. He made me bend over it, a*s out, plug still in. He inspected me, spreading my cheeks. “Look at this sloppy little cunt, leaking all over the floor. You’re pathetic.” He pulled the plug out slowly, then replaced it with his c**k in one brutal thrust. I moaned into my arm as he railed my p***y hard, the desk creaking. “Rule Three: You sleep n***d every night with a plug in. Daddy might need your holes at any time.” He f****d me mercilessly, slapping my a*s and calling me his worthless step-cumdump. When he finally came deep inside me, he made me push it out onto his fingers and eat it while he watched. The training intensified over the following days. He taught me to deepthroat properly. In the garage after dinner, while Mom watched TV inside, he held my head down on his c**k for longer and longer periods. “Breathe through your nose, s**t. Daddy’s c**k belongs in your throat.” Tears streamed down my face as I gagged and choked, but I took him deeper each time. He rewarded me by f*****g my face until he unloaded straight into my stomach. Another afternoon, Mom was working from home in her office. Mark texted me: “Laundry room. Now.” I crept downstairs. He had me kneel on the washing machine, legs spread wide. He ate my p***y aggressively, sucking my c**t until I was shaking, then stood and slammed into me. The machine vibrated beneath us as he pounded away. “Quiet, you dirty girl. Your mother is twenty feet away.” The risk made everything hotter. I came hard around him, biting my hand to stay silent. He filled me again, then made me walk back upstairs with his c*m running down my thighs, no panties to catch it. Rule Four: Daily affirmations. Every night before bed, I had to kneel at his feet in his room (after Mom was asleep) and recite: “I am Daddy’s dirty little stepdaughter w***e. My holes exist for his pleasure. I am nothing without his cock.” He would film me saying it, sometimes while I rode a dildo or had his c**k in my mouth. The humiliation burned deliciously. One risky evening, Mom went to take a long bath. Mark immediately dragged me to the living room couch—the same one we all watched movies on. He sat down, pulled me onto his lap facing away from him, and impaled me on his c**k. “Ride Daddy nice and slow,” he whispered. “Grind that greedy cunt.” I rocked my hips, feeling every inch stretch me. He reached around and rubbed my c**t while degrading me softly. “Your mother is right upstairs soaking in the tub, and here you are bouncing on her husband’s d**k like a brainless s**t. Say it.” “I’m a brainless stepslut for Daddy’s c**k,” I moaned quietly. He slapped my t**s and pinched my n*****s hard, forcing me to ride faster. The danger of Mom walking in any second pushed me over the edge. I came silently, clenching around him. He followed soon after, pumping me full again. Afterward, he made me clean him with my mouth, then sent me to help Mom with dinner, c*m still inside me. By the end of the week, the rules had become my new normal. I woke up wet and aching, spent the day waiting for his commands, and fell asleep dreaming of being used. The shame never fully left me — it fueled everything. Mark pulled me aside one night after Mom went to bed. “You’re doing well, baby girl. But next week we raise the stakes. Family dinner with your aunt and uncle coming. You’ll wear a remote vibrator and collar under your clothes. And you’ll serve Daddy under the table if I demand it.” My p***y clenched at the terrifying thought. I was falling deeper into this taboo hell — and I loved every filthy second.