Caught By Step-Daddy 3

I wait two days.

My ass is still faintly marked from the first night. My cunt feels used every time I sit down. I tell myself I’m not going to give him another reason, but the rules sit on me like a hand around my throat. Friday night I do it anyway. I text Jake a single line—**come get me**—and slip out the back door while Nathan is in the shower.

I don’t even make it to the end of the street.

Headlights swing across me. Nathan’s truck. He doesn’t say a word when I climb in. He just drives us home, parks, and points at the front door. My stomach is already dropping.

Inside, he locks it behind us and turns to me.

“Clothes off. Every piece. Then get on your knees in the living room.”

I strip. The air feels colder than it should. When I sink down onto the rug he walks to the coat closet, comes back with one of his leather belts, and folds it in half. The soft clink of the buckle makes my pulse spike.

“You left the house. You texted the same kid I already threw out. You broke every rule I gave you.” He steps behind me. “Hands behind your back.”

I lace my fingers together. He loops the belt around my wrists, pulls it tight, and buckles it. The leather bites. Then he hooks a finger under my chin and lifts my face.

“You’re going to take everything I give you tonight. And you’re going to thank me for it when I’m done. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He lets go of my chin, walks to the armchair, and sits. “Crawl.”

I move on my knees across the rug until I’m between his spread legs. He frees his cock—already hard, thick, the head dark and wet. He doesn’t tell me to open my mouth. He just fists my hair and pulls me forward until my lips stretch around him. I take him deep on the first stroke. He holds me there, nose against his stomach, until my throat flutters and spit runs down his shaft. Then he starts using my mouth in slow, deep thrusts, guiding my head with both hands as he does so.

“This is what happens when you sneak out,” he says, voice calm while he slides over my tongue. “You don’t get to run off to some boy who doesn’t even know how to fuck you properly. You stay here and you take it from me.”

He keeps the pace steady until my jaw aches and my eyes are streaming. When he pulls me off I’m gasping, chin shiny, a thick string of spit connecting my lower lip to the head of his cock. He stands, hauls me up by the bound wrists, and bends me over the arm of the couch. My chest hits the cushion. My bare ass is in the air. He kicks my feet wider.

The first strike of the belt is a hot white line across both cheeks. I cry out. The second lands lower, right where ass meets thigh. He gives me ten in total—measured, hard, each one leaving a raised welt that throbs in time with my heartbeat. By the last one I’m shaking and my cunt is dripping down the inside of one thigh in a clear line.

Nathan drops the belt, spreads my cheeks with both hands, and drags his tongue from my clit all the way up through my folds and over my hole. I jolt. He does it again, slower, then pushes his tongue inside my cunt and fucks me with it while one thumb rubs tight circles on my clit. The sensation is sharp and immediate after the belt.

My hips push back against his face even though I try to stop them.

He pulls away before I can come, wipes his mouth on the back of my thigh, and steps in close. The thick head of his cock notches against my entrance. He doesn’t ease in. He shoves to the hilt in one hard thrust that forces a broken sound out of me.

“Fuck—Nathan—”

He starts pounding, delivering deep, punishing strokes that slap against the fresh welts and make my bound hands flex uselessly behind my back. One hand stays on my hip. The other reaches under and finds my clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

“You’re going to come on the cock that’s punishing you,” he tells me. “Not the one you tried to run off to. Mine. Say it.”

“Yours—fuck, yours—”

“Come. Now.”

I do. The orgasm hits so hard my knees almost give out. My cunt clamps down in tight, rhythmic pulses while he keeps fucking me through it, never slowing. When the last wave fades he pulls out, leaves me draped over the couch arm, and walks to the bathroom. I hear water running. He comes back with a bottle of lubricant.

My stomach flips.

He coats his cock, then presses two slick fingers against my asshole and pushes them inside. The stretch burns. He works them in and out until the muscle starts to give, then adds a third. I’m panting into the cushion, wrists still bound, my ass still stinging from the belt.

“This is the part you don’t get to give away to anyone else,” he says. “This stays mine.”

He pulls his fingers out, replaces them with the head of his cock, and starts pushing. The pressure is intense, almost too much. I force myself to breathe. He sinks in slowly, inch by inch, until his hips are flush against my welted cheeks and I feel fuller than I ever have in my life.

He gives me ten seconds. Then he starts moving.

Short, deep strokes at first, letting me feel every inch. Then longer, harder, until he’s fucking my ass with the same steady control he used on my cunt. One hand stays on my lower back. The other reaches around and rubs my clit again—firm, relentless circles that build another orgasm even while the stretch in my ass borders on pain.

“You’re going to come with my cock in your ass,” he says. “And when you do, you’re going to thank me for punishing you. Out loud.”

I’m already there. The dual sensation is overwhelming—the thick drag inside my ass, the direct pressure on my clit, the residual sting of the belt. The second orgasm crashes through me harder than the first. My whole body locks and shakes. I choke out the words between broken moans.

“Thank you—thank you for punishing me—fuck, Nathan, thank you—”

He growls and drives in deep one last time, finishing inside my ass with heavy pulses I can feel. He stays buried until the last twitch fades, then pulls out slowly. I feel empty and open and leaking.

Nathan unbuckles the belt from my wrists. My arms drop like dead weight. He doesn’t help me up. He just stands there looking at the mess he made of me—red welts across my ass, cum dripping from both holes, face streaked with tears and spit.

“Permanent rules from now on,” he says, voice still even. “You don’t leave this house without my permission. You don’t text that kid or any other. You don’t touch yourself unless I tell you to. And every time you forget, Sydney, I take this ass again. You understand me?”

I’m still draped over the couch, breathing hard, body throbbing in places I didn’t know could throb. My voice comes out wrecked.

“Yes, Nathan.”

He picks up the belt, folds it, and sets it on the side table like it lives there now.

“Go clean up. Door stays open. I’ll check on you in twenty minutes.”

I push myself upright on shaking legs. Cum runs down the inside of both thighs with every step. My ass burns from the belt and from what he just did to it. I walk to the bathroom knowing exactly what I’ll find when I look in the mirror—red eyes, swollen mouth, and the clear proof that I belong to the man who just finished punishing me.