CHAPTER FIVE: Step-Father’s Poker Night

The cigar smoke is still thick when David drags me up the stairs, my wrist locked in his hand like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. My shorts are somewhere on the den floor. My tank top is gone. I’m naked except for the flush burning across my skin and the ache between my legs that’s been there for months.

He kicks his bedroom door shut, locks it, and finally looks at me.

Really looks.

His chest is rising too fast. His pupils are blown. The bulge in his slacks is obscene.

“Color?” he asks, voice low, rough, like it hurts to speak.

I’m already shaking. “Green,” I breathe. “So fucking green, Daddy.”

The word rips a growl out of him. A dark, satisfied smile curls his mouth.

He crosses to the nightstand in two strides and pulls out two long midnight-blue silk scarves. The fabric whispers when he trails one over my collarbone, cool and smooth against my overheated skin.

“Wrists,” he says.

I lift them instantly. He loops the first scarf around them, tight but careful, knots it, then threads the second scarf through and ties me to the headboard. My arms stretch above my head, shoulders pulled back, tits lifted high. I tug once—nothing. I’m not going anywhere.

He steps back and just stares.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Tied up for me. Dripping down your thighs. Already marked.” His eyes flick to the faint red lines his belt left earlier. “All mine to ruin.”

I arch as much as the scarves let me. “Please, Daddy.”

He ignores me. Instead he grabs the lube, flips the cap, and drizzles a thick line straight over my ass. It’s cold. I gasp as it runs down my crack, over my pussy, pooling on the sheets.

One thick finger circles my hole, slow, teasing, pressing just enough that I push back like a needy slut.

“Greedy little girl,” he says, voice gravel. “Been dreaming about this ass for months.”

A second finger joins, scissoring, stretching me open while his thumb finds my clit and strokes lazy circles that make my hips roll on their own.

I moan loud, shameless. “David, please, more!”

He works me open slow, three fingers now, twisting, curling, spreading, until I’m panting, sweat beading between my tits, wrists pulling hard against the silk.

Only then does he pick up the stainless-steel plug, heavy, cold, impossibly thick.

“Deep breath, baby.”

He presses the tip against me. Cold metal meets burning skin. He pushes, slow, relentless, pulling back every time I tense, advancing when I relax, until the widest part finally pops past the ring and my back bows off the bed with a broken cry.

He swallows it with his mouth on mine, kissing me filthy and deep while he seats the plug fully and gives the jeweled base a little twist that makes my toes curl and my pussy clench so hard I sob into his mouth.

“Good girl,” he whispers against my lips. “Look at you taking it so pretty.”

He steps back, unbuttons his shirt slow enough that I feel every second. Lets it drop. Shoves his pants down just enough to free his cock, thick, flushed, leaking at the tip.

Then he crawls over me, knees forcing my thighs wider.

The first slap lands sharp on my inner thigh. I yelp, hips jerking.

“Color?”

“Green! fuck, more!”

He smiles, dark and proud, and alternates, slow, measured until both thighs are hot pink and I’m writhing, begging with every breath, wrists straining.

Then he flips me, scarves twisting but holding firm, drags my hips up until I’m on my knees, chest pressed to the mattress, ass high, plug glinting between my cheeks like a filthy promise.

The belt whistles.

Crack.

“Count.”

“One, thank you, Daddy...”

Crack.

“Two! harder—”

By ten I’m sobbing into the sheets, tears soaking the duvet, pussy dripping in desperate strings onto the bed, every stripe burning and perfect.

He drops the belt, climbs behind me, and drags the head of his cock through my soaked folds, once, twice, coating himself.

“Feel how wet you are?” he growls. “Crying and still begging for my cock.”

He notches at my entrance and pushes in, slow, so achingly slow I feel every inch stretch me open, feel the plug shift inside me, feel the obscene fullness until he bottoms out and his hips meet my burning ass.

He stays there, buried deep, one hand splayed over the small of my back.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” I sob. “Only you, please move...”

He does.

Long, filthy strokes that light every nerve on fire. One hand fists my hair, arching my back until the scarves pull tight; the other reaches under me and finds my clit, rubbing tight, perfect circles.

I come instantly, walls fluttering around him, squirting messily onto his balls and the sheets in hot pulses. He fucks me through it, drawing it out until I’m shaking, begging incoherently.

Only then does he pull out, flip me onto my back again, arms still bound, and hook my knees over his elbows, folding me nearly in half. The plug presses deeper and I whimper.

He slides back into my pussy in one slick thrust, eyes locked on mine.

“Look at me while I fuck you.”

I do, watch his jaw clench, watch sweat bead on his chest, watch the moment control slips and he starts pounding harder, deeper, hips snapping wildly against mine.

He grabs the wand, flicks it on high, and presses it directly to my clit.

The orgasm hits like a freight train, I scream, my back bowing as much as the bonds allow, pussy clamping down so hard he curses and stills inside me, letting me ride it out around his cock.

He drops the wand, pulls out, and flips me again. This time he eases the plug out, slow, inch by inch, until I’m empty and clenching on nothing, whining at the loss.

Then the blunt head of his cock presses against my ass.

“Color?”

“Green,” I sob. “Please, Daddy, fuck my ass.

He pushes in slow, eyes on my face the entire time until he’s fully seated and I’m panting, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes from the stretch.

He gives me one heartbeat, just one, then starts to move.

Long, filthy strokes that make the headboard creak. The wand comes back, pressed to my clit again while he fucks my ass in deep, measured thrusts.

I come again, harder, messier, squirting so hard it splashes his stomach and the sheets beneath us.

He drops the wand, grips my hips bruisingly, and pounds through my aftershocks until his rhythm stutters.

“Come inside me,” I gasp, voice wrecked. “Please, Daddy, fill your little girl up—”

He slams deep one last time and comes with a guttural groan, cock pulsing, flooding my ass with thick, scorching heat.

We stay locked together, breathing hard, until he finally pulls out slow. Cum leaks from me in a slow, obscene trickle down my thighs.

He unties the scarves gently, massaging the faint red marks on my wrists, kissing each one like an apology and a brand.

Then he drags me to the edge of the bed, pushes my head down until I’m bent over, arms limp at my sides, and feeds his still-hard cock into my mouth, tasting myself, tasting him, tasting everything we just did.

I suck greedily, hollowing my cheeks, moaning around him while he fingers my oversensitive pussy, forcing one final, shattering orgasm out of me until I’m sobbing around his length, tears and drool mixing on my chin.

Only then does he pull out and come a second time, thick ropes across my tongue, my lips, dripping down my chin onto my tits in pearly streaks.

He tucks himself away, zips up, and looks down at me—naked, wrecked, marked, cum leaking from both holes, wrists faintly bruised, face streaked with tears and mascara and him.

He brushes a thumb across my swollen bottom lip, almost gentle.

“Clean up. Short silk robe in the closet. No panties. Bring the boys another round.”

He walks out, door left open.

I hear the low whistles and crude laughter from downstairs as I stumble to the bathroom on shaking legs, cum still dripping down my thighs, wrists tingling from the silk.

I fix my lipstick with trembling fingers, slip into the robe, short enough that it barely covers the lower curve of my ass, belt tied loose and carry the fresh beers downstairs.

Every single one of his friends stares, eyes dark, knowing exactly what he just did to me.

His stepdaughter.

David doesn’t look up from his cards.

He just smiles, slow and satisfied, and says, “Ante up, gentlemen.”

And deals the next hand while I stand there, thighs trembling, feeling his cum slide further down my leg with every breath I take.