Getting a grip

You wake up to your Monday morning alarm, still tired, still aching, and before you can groan in dismay you inhale, pulling in a scent from your pillow. Your bed still smells like your stepdad. A little smile plays across your mouth and you close your eyes, breathing deep. He was right here. He was right here in my bed and he made me give in, made me his cocksucker, filled my mouth with his cum. A little twinge inside, an echo of doubt, a ghost of the girl who spent years unable to stand the very sight of that motherfucker. He called me a good girl. That twinge fades away, forgotten, and your hands are between your legs and in moments your fingers are slick with your juices and your body is humming with pleasure and your mind is filled with vivid memories, his hand striking your ass, his cock in your throat, his twinkling blue eyes watching while you demonstrate your devotion to your stepdad. Singing out, you arch your body in ecstasy, thrilling at how incredible and intense your usual morning schlick becomes now that you’re his.

His obedient stepdaughter.

His little cocksucker.

His good girl.

You lie there, panting, wondering at yourself, wondering at who you’ve become, but unable to find that doubt, that resistance, that dull anger, anywhere within you. He did all that to me in a weekend. A dreamy smile spreads across your face. What’s he going to do to me next?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you do your business and dress for school in your dim, empty house. David always works early, and your mom is nowhere to be found. Passed out in bed or in parts unknown, you don’t know, and you couldn’t be paid to care. Walking out the door munching on some toast, you set off for school, curious how the world will react to the new you. They’re not gonna know, right? I’m still just me out there, right? It’s only home, with him… he’s the only one I’m different for.

Right?

With every step you take away from home, you feel a little less certain of yourself. A little less sure of who you are, and what you want. Part of you is elated, like you’re escaping some trap you’d walked into, escaping a prison of obedience and ecstasy. But you can’t deny how you feel, can’t deny how much you loved every moment of what happened. You try your best to push that doubt and confusion away, bury it under those warm fuzzy memories of giving in, of being used, of becoming someone new.

By the time you arrive at school you’re buzzing with that warmth, trying not to let it show on your face. Settling into your first period Chemistry class, you spot your friend Jack looking forlorn in the corner. You go sit next to him to see what’s up. “Yo, Jack.” A memory from your old life suddenly leaps into your mind. “Hey, how did the protest go on Friday? I was… I had to deal with some family shit.”

Jack brushes his unkempt brown hair away from his face and twists his mouth into a grimace. “Not great, RC.”

Fuck. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

“It was…” He pulls in a few shallow breaths. “It was bad. Real bad. There was a new guy there, on the other side. Tall blond dude, seemed too well-dressed for that crowd. He was, like, egging them on. I dunno. They were way nastier than usual, more of em, too. They.. they… they chased us off. Just rushed at us and we panicked. They ended up trashing the clinic without us there to protect it.”

Fuck! “Oh shit! Jack, I… fuck I shoulda been there.”

He just shakes his head. “No. No way, RC. Honestly I’m glad you weren’t there. It wouldn’t have made a difference, and I know you.” He looks into your eyes. “You probably would’ve tried some heroic shit and gotten in trouble. Those guys were no joke, I don’t want to think of what would’ve happened if they’d gotten their hands on you.”

You shudder, suddenly reminded of the gross dudes who did get their hands on you over the weekend. “I guess. I just… fuck. This really sucks.”

Jack shrugs. “Yeah, but we gotta just push on, right? Anne said there’s gonna be another protest soon, something to show solidarity with the clinic and try to get some people together to fix it up. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks, Jack.”

The warm fuzziness is gone, and now you’re just left with a bitter taste in your mouth. This is all because I let David guilt me into coming home. I should have been with my friends. Of course, if you hadn’t gone home to David, he never would have made you into his good girl. That thought takes the edge off the bitter self-hate, and now all you want is to go home so your stepdad can remind you of your place.

Second period Pre-Calc is a drag, but you do manage to sit next to Drew, the jock you’ve been allowing yourself to crush on. You’re still too in your head to flirt with him, but you notice him eyeing you up throughout class. Normally that would get you all hot and bothered, but today it just makes you confused. What would David think if I brought home Drew? Am I… am I allowed to hook up with other people?

What the fuck am I thinking? Allowed?

Yes. Allowed. Obedient stepdaughters only do what they’re allowed to do.

You’re back in that warm fuzzy place again, floating through your third period Creative Writing class, composing poems about lovers in the forest. Nothing like your usual stuff. You’re honestly surprised by how good it is. I gotta be careful, I can’t let these feelings get away from me. I might be… a good girl for my stepdad now, but that’s all. I don’t want… don’t want… You shut that line of thinking down, forcing yourself to write something dark and weird and abstract before class wraps up. Something to remind yourself of who you are underneath this new reality.

At lunch you finally get around to digging through the pile of missed messages in your phone. Plenty had built up over the weekend, mostly people wondering what you were up to, but one catches your eye. Jeremy, your manager at the sandwich shop.

HEY DUMMY! GOOD JOB IGNORING MY MESSAGE AND SKIPPING YOUR SHIFT. THE NEW BOSS DONT LIKE SLACKERS. YOUR FIRED!!!

Right. Another thing you blew off on Friday because of your stepdad. New boss? So no more Mr. Lee? You guess it doesn’t matter who the boss is, since they’re not your boss anymore. Part of you is relieved that you’ll never have to deal with your gross manager again, but there’s also a sinking feeling inside as you consider the reality of your unemployment. Fuck, my savings were already abysmal. How am I gonna afford that summer trip now? It’s not like part time jobs are abundant in your crummy town. There’s still a chance you could find something, but that graduation trip you’ve been planning with your friends now feels like a pipe dream.

Feeling defeated, you trudge your way to fourth period History, and spend the whole class getting beat down by your teacher Mr. Peterson. He seems to have it out for you, even more than usual, and very specifically calls out your slipping grade level. What the fuck am I supposed to do? It’s like he’s making it impossible to make up any ground at all. If I can’t get up to at least a B-, that’s gonna trash my chances at the scholarship. I’m gonna be stuck here forever. The new you feels a little dreamy about the prospect of being stuck living with your stepdad. You’d get to be his little cocksucker forever. That’s what you want now. So why do I feel so shitty?

Fifth period French is a blur, your confused mind unable to parse a single bit of the grammar exercises. When you finally get to your final class, you plop down in your seat next to George, ready to ignore the English lecture and shoot the shit with your buddy. “Heyyy Giorgio, how was your weekend?”

George just looks at his desk and mumbles. “S’fine.”

You furrow your brow in concern. “Hey, what’s up, GeeGee? Something eating you?”

He looks up at you, his eyes dull. “You promised you’d come, RC. Like, really really promised.”

Come? Come to… ohhhhh right. Fuck. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, George. Seriously, I’m sorry. I had some… I was dealing with some family shit, y’know?”

He looks back down at his desk. “Yeah, I know. And last time it was work shit, and before that it was another friend, and before that…” his voice trails off. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

It clearly isn’t fine, as he doesn’t speak to you for the rest of class, leaving you stuck in your head. Fuck. Fuck me. Everything is fucked and it’s all my fault. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. I need… I need to be punished. Opening your eyes, your thoughts are finally focused. You still feel like utter shit, but now you have something to look forward to, something that you know will send all those bad feelings away. He’s gonna take care of me.

The final bell rings at last, and you gather your things and head out the door and out of the school. You’re so focused on getting home and finding release with your stepdad that you don’t notice what’s in front of you, and you end up literally running into a very, very familiar face.

“Ow!” You take a step back, suddenly short of breath. “H-hey, Emily. I… long time.”

Your former best friend looks at you with an unreadable expression clouding her beautiful green eyes. “Hey, Charlie. Wow. Shit. Sorry, I…” she brushes her dirty blonde hair away from her face, and you can’t help but notice some color rising in her freckled cheeks. “I’d love to chat, I just…”

Fuck, why’d she have to call me that? The last time she called me that we were… You follow her eyes as she looks away, and you see standing some distance behind her another familiar face. Tony, your ex-boyfriend. He’s smiling, his stormy blue eyes looking at you, then Emily, then back at you again. “Emily, what…”

“I have to go. I’m sorry!” Her voice sounds choked off, and she hurries away, leaving you standing there bewildered. Tony watches you for another moment, then follows Emily away.

What the fuck? Are the two of them… no. No, that cannot be. That’s impossible.

You desperately shove those thoughts away, terrified of where they would lead. But you can’t push away the dark cloud over your heart. Seeing either of your exes would’ve put you in a mood, seeing both of them, and… together? No. It’s too much.

The walk home feels like an eternity, the memories dredged up by Emily and Tony pulling you down, your mind and heart sinking deep into your past. Far deeper than the submissive bliss you found last night. It’s like the new you never existed. David doesn’t even cross your mind once, even as something that might reach down and pull you out of this muck. All you want is to crawl into bed and rot away. Fuck today. Fuck me. Fuck everything.

So when you open your front door and sweep the pile of mail aside with your foot, the absolute last thing you want to hear is your stepdad’s voice. You see him, sitting on the living room couch with the TV turned on to some sports talk show, and he’s looking back at you over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Cola! Just the little cocksucker I wanted to see. Come over here and take care of your stepdad.”

There’s a little glimmer inside, some part of your new self responding to him, responding to the way he’s ordering you around, the way he’s treating you like a fucktoy. But that glimmer is completely smothered by the oppressive cloud you’ve sunk into. “Please, David, not right now.”

You keep walking past the living room, staring at the floor, just wanting to get away from everything, then suddenly your stepdad is right next to you, pressing you against the wall, his breath thick with pot and hops washing over your face. “Now, Cola, I don’t think I heard you right. I told you to come take care of your stepfather, and obedient stepdaughters do as they’re told.”

Breaths shallow, you squeeze your eyes shut and look away, overwhelmed by his sudden presence. “David, I just… please… I can’t.” His rough handling of you, the edge in his voice, the threat in his words, all start to pull your new self up out of the darkness.

“Can’t what? Can’t give me a little relief after I spend all god damn day working my ass off to put food on the table?” He moves his face closer to yours. “Look at me.”

The direct order shoots through the pain and confusion inside, forcing you to respond, to look at him, see the fire in his eyes, and your knees start to shake.

“That’s more like it.” His burning blue eyes hold yours captive. “Now get my cock out.”

Unable to look away from him, unable to disobey, your hands fumble at his fly, pulling down the zipper and reaching in to pull out his stiff dick. Grasping it in your hand, its heat starts to melt away the numbness inside.

“Mmmm… that’s good.” His voice is low, husky, captivating. “Now spit on it.”

You manage to tear your eyes away from his long enough to look down and push a long glob of spit out between your lips, letting it drop onto his dick where you spread it over his length with your hand.

David chuckles at you, a gravelly, breathy sound that makes you tingle inside. “Didn’t even have to tell you to start stroking it. So you do remember what you are, then?”

What I am. I’m a… I’m his… You try to pull up those fuzzy pink memories, try to recall the feeling of giving in, submitting to your stepdad, becoming his cocksucker. But the muck of your real life is still sucking you back down. “I… I do… I just… I’m dealing with a lot.”

David growls at you. “Oh I’m sure all the math tests and lunchroom gossip is really getting to you, huh?” He groans as you keep stroking him. “You think you have it so tough. You have no idea what the real world’s like, little lady. You wouldn’t make it five minutes dealing with the shit I do every god damn day.”

Shut the fuck up, David. You don’t know shit about me. In spite of your bitter internal rebuke, you still can’t look away from his glaring eyes. You still feel a little thrill as his hard cock throbs in your hands. The wretched gloom of today is still weighing on you, but bit by bit you’re starting to push it away, focusing on the task at hand. “I… sorry, David.”

Your stepdad grins at you and sighs. “That’s much better, Cola.” He pulls up his stained shirt to reveal his hairy torso. “Now why don’t you be a good girl and put your tongue on my nipple?”

I can be a good girl. Without pulling your eyes away from his, you lean down and start to lick at David’s stiff nipple, and you feel his cock pulse in response. His thick chest hair reeks of dried sweat, and the taste and scent make you swoon. Just let me be good, let me be good at this one thing, let me have one place where I’m not fucking everything up for everyone.

David smiles down at you. “Wow, you really are a good obedient stepdaughter now, aren’t you? Just a hot little slut who wants to get her stepdad off.” He squeezes his eyes shut and leans his head back as your tongue dances over his nipple. “Ohh fuck yes, that’s good, don’t stop, just like that oh YES!”

You can feel his cock start to twitch in your hand and a rush of that warm fuzzy feeling floods through your body. I’m making him feel good, I’m being a good girl. Before you can finish that thought, David uses one hand to roughly shove your head down level with his cock, just in time for him to erupt and shoot several thick strands of cum over your face. You awkwardly stumble down to your knees, still stroking, making sure to pump the last few drops of semen into your open mouth.

David lets out a long breath through pursed lips, then looks down at you and laughs. “God damn, Cola. What a sight.” He pulls his shirt down and stuffs himself back into his pants. “Y’know, I thought I might have to punish you for your attitude, but seeing your face covered in my spunk has me feeling awful forgiving.” He pats you on the head and heads back to the couch. “Go get cleaned up, I’ll call you if I need anything.”

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, then stand and make your way to the bathroom. Now that the rush of getting David off has passed, you’re still stuck with all the awful feelings from today. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. You look in the mirror, seeing your face dripping with your stepdad’s cum. But at least I know who I am.