I obediently follow his orders

I walk on stage as my mother embrace me holding up the trophy. She whispers something in my ear, her voice lost in the applause. But I know what she's saying. She's thanking me for pushing through this. My stepfather's orders still on my mind, his breath hot and foul, a silent reminder of the debt I still owe him.

As we pose for the cameras, his grip tightens mentally in my head. "Do it," he whispers, his voice a dark promise of what's to come if I don't. The crowd's roar is a distant thunder as I make my decision.

With a deep breath, I lean in and whisper to my mother, "I'm sorry." She gives me a quizzical look, but before she can react, I pull away from the embrace, my hands slipping down to her costume. In one swift move, I tug at the bottom of her dress, pretending to trip over my own feet. The fabric gives way, and with a gasp, her thong flashes before the audience.

Her eyes widen in shock, and for a brief moment, the world stops spinning. Time seems to stand still as the crowd gasps, then a sickening wave of laughter crashes over us. I see the betrayal and hurt in my mother's eyes, but I know she doesn't understand why I did it. She thinks I've just ruined her moment.

But as I watch her struggle to cover herself, a strange thing happens. The humiliation and anger in her gaze turns to something else. Determination. She straightens up, her cheeks flaming, and with a fierce smile, she raises the trophy high above her head. "Thank you," she says into the microphone, her voice clear and strong. "Maybe next time I'll come a little less dress like my sweet daughter."

She help me up, cupping my asscheek with a big smile as the crowd reactions is running through her body. She put on the outfit and leave the stage while I meet up with my stepfather again.

"Well done, you little slut," my stepfather says, his eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and malice. He pulls me aside, his hand firmly on my shoulder, steering me away from the congratulatory hugs and smiles of my mother's newfound fans. "Let go to the bathroom and celebrate."

I held the trophy that my mother handed me when we parted from each other. My black stepfather takes me to a nearby bathroom, his excitement palpable. The smell of the crowded convention center, a mix of sweat, makeup, and popcorn, follows us as we weave through the throngs of costumed fans. The bathroom is quieter, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.

"Now, let's see if you've learned your lesson," he says, pushing me into a stall and locking the door behind us. His hands are already at my zipper, roughly yanking it down. "You're going to thank me for this," he leers, his voice thick with lust.

But as he reaches for me, I find myself pushing back. My hand connects with his face with surprising ****, and he stumbles back, his eyes wide with shock. "I won't do it," I say firmly, my voice steady despite the trembling in my legs. "You can't make me."

For a moment, he just stares at me, his hand rubbing the spot where I hit him. Then, his eyes narrow, and I see the anger bubbling to the surface. "You ungrateful little bitch," he snarls, reaching for me again.

He found my ass and starts to spank me harshly. He bend me over his knee.