Shadows of the Past

You’re walking to school, skies grey and yet you’re surrounded by shadows. Or are you walking home? Where are you going? It feels like you’ve been walking, wandering, lost, for ages, for as long as you can remember.

And the shadows are growing closer.

You know what they are. Their shapes are inescapable, burrowed into your own brain. They’re your friends, wondering what happened to you, wondering where you are. They’re your teachers, holding the promise of your future in their hands, gloating in their power over you. That one, there, Emily, her shape clear and sharp, cutting like a knife through your heart. You want to scream, but you have no breath, and no matter how fast you walk they keep gaining on you.

Behind them, above them, around them, a greater shadow looms. You cannot make out its shape, you cannot even sense it, but you know it’s there. You’ve felt it before, run from it before, and you still refuse to see it. You want to run again, desperately will yourself to run from it, but you can’t. You want it too much. That’s the only thing you know about it: it calls to you, and deep down you answer it, ask for it, need it. Your heart shrinks from it, but you know your heart is where it lives. It waits, biding its time, knowing you’ll turn and embrace it before too long.

Just before you do, just before you can give in, you see him, hear him, smell him. There he is, just ahead of you, David, your stepdad, the man you’ve given yourself to. Now you’re running, screaming, crying out for him. Reaching him, embracing him, wrapping yourself around him, trying to hide inside him. Grinding your crotch against his hip, kissing and licking at the nape of his neck, letting the words spill from your lips “please please please please David please help me save me please” and he finally turns his face to you, blue eyes twinkling, your own eyes begging him for salvation.

And he laughs at you.

Bolting upright in bed, you tear your blankets off and stand, shaking, breathless, covered in sweat. Your pussy throbs with need, far beyond your typical morning horniness, beyond anything you’ve ever felt. You don’t just need to get off, you need something much, much more. Clad only in your t-shirt and panties, you act on instinct, stumbling to your door and heading down the hall to your parents’ bedroom, chased by the fading shadows from your dream.

It’s morning, so you know David is gone already, but what about your mom? Did she come home last night? Is she passed out in bed right now? Your hand reaches for the doorknob, the fear of seeing your mother in there making your skin tingle as you grasp the cool metal, your muscles pushing back against your instinctual need, trying to stop you, but they don’t stand a chance. The door is open and a massive breath of relief bursts from your lungs. The room is empty.

You step into the dark room and leap into the bed, pressing your head into David’s pillow and breathing in deep. Your heart pounds as you suck in his scent, and your hands move between your legs. Humming to yourself, you seek release, seek relief from this need, but it isn’t coming. The faint scent from his pillow isn’t enough, you need more, more of him.

Thrashing around in the bed he shares with your mother, your eyes catch on something. Crumpled in the corner of the room, a dark shape, his work shirt. Flopping off the bed, you crawl to the discarded garment, pulling it against your face and pulling in a **** breath. There it is, you can feel him, feel him fill you, his smell his stink consuming you, one hand rubbing his shirt against your face while your other thrums over your clit and then you’re bucking, thrusting your hips into the air, a choked cry **** from your throat by the sudden intensity of your climax, and then it’s passed.

And you’re lying there on the floor of your parents’ bedroom, panties soaked with your girlcum and your stepdad’s dirty shirt over your face. You fling it away and stare at the ceiling. What the actual fuck is wrong with you, RC?

That thought sticks in your head as you get ready for school and head out the door. The grey skies overhead bother you for some reason, and you pick up your pace, almost like something is following you. You turn that thought over and over in your head. What is wrong with me? Is doing this, being his… cocksucker… is it worth it if I’m gonna be sneaking into his room and getting off to his fucking laundry?

I’m pathetic.

I’m pathetic and the only worthwhile thing about me is being his good girl. I’m good for him, and he takes care of me. That warm fuzzy feeling is back, and suddenly you don’t care about being pathetic, you’re not worried about what’s wrong with you, all you care about is getting through the day so you can get home and hear those words from him again. Now you’re walking fast, but you’re not running away from anything, you’re running towards him.

But before that, you have to get through the day.

First period is easy enough, your focus on getting home and serving your stepdad seems to bleed over into your schoolwork, pushing distractions into the background. But when you get to second period is when the trouble starts. You’re early for once, and as you get yourself settled you notice someone sitting down next to you.

“Hey, RC.” Drew’s cool, confident tone immediately grabs your attention. “So, who’s your new man?”

What? “I… uh, hey Drew.” Fuck fuck fuck he’s actually talking to me play it cool RC. “Well, I guess you could say…” How the fuck am I gonna play this cool? How can he know? What does he know?

“Oh, is it a chick? Or a… them?” He gives you a gorgeous smile to cover up his awkwardness. “I know you don’t discriminate with your booty calls.”

“It’s a man. A boy!” FUCK! “It’s a guy. Been, uh, hooking up with a new guy. Doesn’t go to this school.” Yeah, nice, real smooth, RC. Super believable.

Drew gives you a low whistle. “Well hey, lookit you, pullin D from all over.” He gives you a long slow look up and down. “Can’t say I blame him.”

You can’t stop your cheeks from glowing. Oh my god, Drew, you’re seriously hitting on me now? “Y-yeah, me neither.” You’re better than this, RC, c’mon. You take a breath to steady yourself. “Guess you’ll have to take a number.” There you go.

Drew bites his lip and gives you another look. “Guess so.”

The two of you leave it at that as class starts, but your heartrate stays elevated and you know your cheeks are still flushed as the bell rings and you hurry to your next class. You’re a mess in third period, unable to keep your head on straight enough to write anything, at least not anything decent enough for a class assignment. Holy fuck Drew was flirting with me and I flirted back and he was into it holy fuck holy fuck.

You don’t even bother finding a seat at lunch, heading straight to the bathroom to take care of yourself. You’re such a mess you have to peel your panties down. Fantasies swirl in your head, Drew’s perfect smile as he leans in to kiss you, David’s rough hands shoving you to your knees, Drew’s firm athletic body pressing against yours, David’s musky balls laying across your nose, and then, a flash, both of them together, holding you between them, trapping you and touching you and filling you and “FFFNNHHHHHH!” you squirt into the toilet bowl as you bite your tongue to hold your scream inside. Oh wow.

“Oh wow!” You hear a voice, a voice you recognize, Jessica the cheer captain. “Someone is jilling off in the girl’s room!” A flurry of giggles fills the space. “Come on out! You’re caught!”

Frozen in fear, you pull your legs up, curling into a ball on the toilet seat, **** to hide. Oh shit oh shit oh shit if Jessica catches me she’s going to make my life hell for the rest of the school year shit shit! You steady your breathing as much as you can, heart racing in your chest. What am I gonna do? Is she gonna peek under the stall?

Just then, you hear the bell ring signaling the end of lunch. A deeper voice speaks up. “C’mon Jess, let’s get to class. We can catch em later. If they did it once they’ll do it again.”

A heavy sigh. “I suppose you’re right, Lu.” A few steps towards the door, then a pause. “But I know you’re in here, you little pervert. I can smell you. Must have been a good one!” She laughs again, a beautiful bell chime, and then you hear them leave the restroom. You wait, giving yourself a chance to catch your breath, and making absolutely sure that they’re long gone before you finally exit the stall and wash up.

Of course, now you’re late for fourth period, and Mr. Peterson lets you hear it the moment you walk in the door. His voice is like a lash, and he focuses on you for the entire class, making sure you know just how much he’s docking your overall grade for your persistent tardiness. It doesn’t matter, I don’t care. He can say what he wants, he can do what he wants, he can’t touch me. I belong to my stepdad, and as soon as I get home I’ll get to be his good girl and none of this will matter.

That focus is back again, and you’re able to make it through fifth period without any issues. Sixth period is a drag as usual, but George seems to be warming up to you again. You still don’t get into it like you used to, but he jokes around with you a bit, and it seems the sting of your broken promise is starting to wear off. Thank god. The last thing I need right now is to lose a friend. I need to stay connected to reality any way I can.

The final bell rings at last, and you set off for home. Out of the corner of your eye you see something that pulls hard on your attention, a dark haired boy with his arm around a blonde girl. It might be Tony and Emily, but you keep yourself from looking. Keep yourself from caring. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. They’re my exes for a… for reasons. And I have someone else now.

The walk home feels short, light, breezy, the overcast skies breaking up to let some sunshine through, and you’re ready. Ready to get home, ready to see your stepdad, ready to be good for him. Approaching your front door, you remember what happened yesterday, and you imagine his reaction to your new attitude. He’s gonna be so happy to see me. He’s gonna call me over and tell me to help him out and I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna be a good girl and he’s gonna take care of me.

You open the door and sweep the pile of mail aside with your foot, and let out a long slow breath. The house is empty. Oh. Okay. Taking a few steps inside and closing the door behind you, all that focus and anticipation built up through the day leaks out, leaving behind just the usual mess of anxiety and uncertainty. Well what the fuck am I gonna do with myself now?

Absolutely nothing sounds appealing. Sure, there’s homework to do. You’re still unemployed, and a new job isn’t going to find itself. Your friends are probably wondering why you haven’t hung out with anyone since last week. And Drew, I could text him… except I don’t have his number. Fuck. Maybe Anne could get it for me? They have some friends on the basketball team. But even the thought of escalating your flirtation with Drew can’t move you to act. I don’t want to do anything else, I just want to be a good girl for David.

Jesus, RC, is that really all you can think about? Is that really all you want?

Before you can answer yourself, you hear the door bang open behind you. Oh shit, is that him or… You turn, seeing your stepdad standing in the doorway, and you feel that warm fuzziness come rushing back. Oh thank god, he’s home, he’s here, I can…

David storms towards you, and that’s when you see the mask of black rage clouding his face. His voice is a snarl. “At least I can find one of you.”

Your eyes go wide and your heart beats hard in your chest. “Find one of—”

“Shut up, Cola.” He grabs you by the neck and slams you against the wall. “I’m the one doing the talking.”

Something is happening inside you, something is reacting to the rage in his eyes, to the feeling of being roughly shoved, to the sensation of the hand around your neck. As you look up at him, you can feel yourself shrinking, all that you are compressing into something small to make room for him and his anger. There isn’t enough space in the smaller you for the anxiety, the uncertainty, even for the warm pink fuzziness of being his. There’s just the simple need to do what he wants, to be what he wants. You are nothing else.

He sees the compliance in your face, in your wide eyes, hears it in your silence. His hand not on your neck reaches up to push your hair back, cover it, hide it, and his eyes narrow. “You really do look like her.” Now his hand in your hair is gripping, grabbing, pulling. “Difference is, I can do whatever the hell I want with you.” His hand on your neck squeezes. “Ain’t that right?”

You manage to push an answer through your constricted windpipe. “...yes…”

A smile curves his mouth, and just a hint of that twinkle starts to shine through the anger in his eyes. He moves his face right next to yours, and suddenly your heart is pounding, your lungs desperately trying to pull in more air. Is he gonna… he’s not… will he… When his lips are close enough to yours that you can feel the tickle of his mustache, he twists your hair sharply, pulling your head to the side and his mouth is on you, right where your jaw meets your neck, and he’s kissing and licking and nibbling at the sensitive skin, forcing little whines from your throat. He pulls away after a moment. “Show me your tits, cocksucker.”

Your mind is reeling, overwhelmed, unable to process anything that’s happening, but your body knows to obey. Your hands pull up your shirt and bra, exposing your chest and the fading bruises to your stepdad. He looks down, lust joining anger in his eyes, and then his hands are off your hair and throat. Grabbing your breasts with both hands, he squeezes, hard. Not as hard as Brian did, but you’re still a little sore from that ****, and the pain is a shock. “Nnnyaaah!”

“Whatever I want.” He seems to be talking to himself as he molests you, hypnotized by the sight of his rough hands fondling his stepdaughter’s soft breasts. Then his mouth moves down, taking one stiff nipple into his mouth, then the other, his hands still working your pliant flesh, his tongue rubbing and flicking over your tender buds, making a senseless babble of moans and whines spill from your mouth, and then he bites.

“OWWW! FUCK!” He bit you so hard your mind went blank for a moment, and all of a sudden your knees start wobbling. I… what?

David gives your nipples one last lick as his hands move down, undoing your fly and roughly pulling your pants and panties down around your knees. He crouches down, face right in front of your snatch, smiling and sniffing deep. “You really do love it when I treat you like shit, don’t ya, Cola?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, his face pressing forward and his tongue reaching between your dripping folds.

“Ohhhhhhhh, ooooOHHHHHHH! AhhhhhhhFUCK! AH! AH! AH! DAVID! D-david I’m gonna, I’m so close… I… AH!” You’re so turned on, so wet, how is it how does he do this to you? Every time he touches you, every thing he does to you, it all turns you into a sopping wet mess. And that’s all before he gets his mouth on you. Holy fuck he can eat pussy oh my god I love it so much. His mouth moves again, tongue pressing lapping against your clit and then he’s sucking it in and then

Teeth

Biting

Eyes wide mouth open silent no breath to scream

Body shaking vibrating juices squirting a stream into your stepdad’s open laughing mouth

Legs giving out and you slide against the wall down onto your bare ass, face even with his. The anger is gone from his eyes, just pure lust now, that little twinkle still shining through, his smile cutting into you. “Thanks for the drink, Cola.” He chuckles and stands, towering over you. “My turn now.”

You just look up at him, trembling, panting, feeling smaller than ever. This position feels familiar, it’s just like the first time he took you. The first time you gave in to him. Your mouth is open and your tongue is out before he can even get his zipper down. He pulls out his stiff length, you can smell it before you see it, and then it’s right there, close enough to feel its warmth, moving closer, a single drop of precum beading on the tip and then falling, a perfect sparkling pearl right onto your waiting tongue, the taste the sensation making your whole body vibrate.

And then his phone buzzes in his pocket, and for some reason his hand is on it in a flash, and when he sees who’s calling his entire demeanor changes and he’s stuffing himself back in his pants and walking out the door. You hear him. “Rachel. Where are you? No. NO! You don’t say that to me, I’m the one who—” his voice is cut off as he slams the door behind him, and you’re alone again.

Alone, pants down and shirt up, the taste of your stepdad lingering, teasing on your tongue. Your nipple and your clit throbbing where he’d bit you. Your self still small, too small to think, too small to care, too small to feel anything but empty. You don’t know what to do, but this tiny version of who you are knows to do what it must.

You’re hungry, so you eat. You have assignments due tomorrow, so you do them. You’re tired and horny, so you get in bed. Hands between your legs you get yourself off, and then you do it again, and then again, head filled with memories and fantasies of your stepdad, him ordering you around, him striking your ass, torturing your breasts, pulling your hair, going further and harder and crueler than he ever has in reality, with each orgasm the David in your head gets rougher, meaner, colder. With every mindless climax a little shadow starts to spill out from the innermost depths of your heart, growing, growing, returning to where it once ruled.