Her Stepfather's Slave [fiction]

TheFloss · 02-24-2013, 11:09 AM

The year had seemed longer than most. Had seemed more gray. May and I had been friends since fourth grade, but it was only in the slowness of our ninth grade year that we'd ever gotten to know each other.

Her mother had died in a car accident that spring, and I found myself seeing May more and more as she needed somebody to talk to. Most of the time we just watched movies or went for quiet walks- I think she just wanted to be around somebody who wasn't her step father.

Her stepfather was, to be blunt, an asshole. He'd made no secret of the fact that he'd never wanted a kid, and when he married May's mom five years before, it was only on the condition that he wouldn't have to deal with any of the 'child-raising stuff'. We were only 15, and May frequently spoke of how much she couldn't wait to move out.

She was absolutely beautiful- a fact I tried to convince her of more than once, to no avail. She had brown-almost-red hair, and a svelt-yet-relaxed demeanor that put you at ease. That ability to make other people feel like themselves, combined with her good looks, meant that she frequently had more attention from boys than she knew what to do with. She had dated around with a couple boys, but eventually decided it was too exhausting, and had been single for a while.

During October I noticed she talked about her stepfather less and less- changing the topic whenever I asked how things were going. She spent more and more time at my place.

One night, a few days before December, I received a text around 8pm from May, "can i come over? its important". I responded that that would be fine, and asked her what the problem was, but I didn't get a response. The lack of response nagged at me for an hour. What type of 'important' did she mean? Was it an emergency? It was a Friday night, so I put on a coat and decided to walk over to her place, just in case.

I had no idea what I was going to do when I got there- it was a bit late to randomly knock on a door and invite myself in- but I continued to text her as I walked, with still no response.

May lived in a house recessed into the trees a bit. Not exactly a cabin, and not exactly 'in the woods', but close enough that it felt almost rustic. I walked down the dirt driveway, and was about to knock on the front door when I lost my nerve.

Her stepfather made me uncomfortable. He was gruff, loud, and as often as not, angry about something. I was sure he wouldn't be pleased about me showing up at 10:30 at night. They had a porch equal with the kitchen around back, so I decided to see if I could look in a window.

I crept up the stairs to the patio silently, and looked through the blinds.

They both had their backs to me. Her father was sitting at the table, and she was standing at the stove, stirring something. It must have been thick, because she was using both hands. What surprised me was that she was wearing a thin spaghetti strap shirt and athletic shorts. I had always thought of May as extremely modest- and I had rarely seen her legs or arms exposed, even in summer. She tended to dress in long shirts and pants, so her skimpy attire, especially in October, was unusual. Hidden as I was, I couldn't help but admire her butt on those shorts.

She reached for a ladle, and I realized to my shock why she had been using both hands to stir the soup; they were chained together with handcuffs.

My mind reeled- did her father put her in handcuffs? Maybe she was into it- no, this must have been why she wanted to come to my place. Should I call the police?

She ladled the soup into two bowls, and carefully carried them over to her father at the table. When she turned, I saw that she had a piece of duct tape plastered over her mouth. She cold have been able to take it off, her hands cuffed in front of her as they were, but I'm guessing that fear kept her from doing so. Her eyes were a bit red, and it was obviously she had just been crying.

Her father looked at the soup and grunted, then gave May's ass a thoughtless swat. She jumped a bit. I stumbled a bit myself, and for a moment I thought her father had heard me. I froze as he glanced towards the window, but relaxed when he turned back to his dinner. May sat down at the place opposite him, her eyes downcast, and she began to eat as well.

After a minute, her father excused himself from the table, leaving to the other room. I hurriedly tapped on the glass, and she looked towards me, startled. Seeing who I was, she was obviously mortified, shaking her head with wide eyes. I tried to mouth "Are you ok?" through the window, but she gestured for me to leave with her cuffed hands.

Then one of the most frightening moments of my life. Pounding heavy feet storming up the stairs of the porch. Her stepfather had snuck outside and was barreling towards me. Fear kept me locked to the spot, and he fiercly grabbed me upon reaching me.

"Well Derek. Haven't seen you around in a while," he said, an edge to his voice, "Normally people call before inviting themselves over at 11 at night."

"I was just- I mean-" but he cut me off as he drug me in the back door to the kitchen.

"May! Your friend's here," he said. May continued to look horrified. Her stepfather kept his vice grip on my arm.

"Why is she handcuffed?" I managed to ask through my fear.

"We had a disagreement, and this is her punishment," her father replied, trying to make it sound obvious, but it was clear he was uncomfortable.

I looked back at May, and saw her left foot had a chain locked to it, that wove over to under the stove. It looked like she couldn't go much further than the dining room.

"She's chained to the kitchen?! This is abuse," I said, like an idiot. I should have kept quiet. I should have acted like I believed him, and called the police later- but I didn't.

"Fuck. Are you really going to make this complicated, kid? Look. Sit down," then, after a pause of me not doing it, "SIT DOWN."

He shoved me into the chair, and swung behind me, and reached around, pinning my arms to the chair. I tried to struggle free, but I didn't have any leverage. I couldn't believe this was happening.

"HEY! Let go of me!" I shouted, pointlessly.

"May, dear, go get me the bag," he commanded. May shook her head. "Are you disobeying me? May. Get me the bag, or I'll make life so horrible for you, you'll wish you'd never been born."

May looked at me, her eyes full of fear and apology, and got up. I hear the chain clink on the ground as she walked to the other side of the kitchen and pulled a black canvas bag off the counter.

"Cuff him to the chair," her stepfather commanded. May knelt in front of me, and hesitantly pulled some handcuffs out of the bag, placed the corresponding key on the table, and reached over to me, gently latching the cuffs around both mine and the chair's arm. She did the same with another pair of cuffs, leaning over to secure me to the chair. Kneeling as she was, I saw down her thin shirt and saw and briefly saw her bra- I looked away.

"Thank you, dear." He released me, and I pulled quickly at the handcuffs, but they were secure. May's stepfather pulled a coil of rope out of his bag, and quickly wrapped it around my torso, securing me more tightly to the chair, before bending over and securing my feet to the chair legs. He grabbed the keys to my cuffs off the table, put them in his pocket, and stood and looked at me.

"Look kid, here's the deal. I don't wanna hear it. Any of it. For every word you say, I'm gonna swat your behind like you've never felt. Five words, five swats. And you better believe you won't be wearing any pants when that goes down. So unless you want to be further humiliated in front of my May here, I recommend you keep your mouth shut."

I did as I was told.

Her stepfather sat back down in his chair, and May stood from where she'd been kneeling at my side, and sat down across from him again. She moaned quietly into her gag.

"May! How rude. I'm sure our guest is hungry. Go make him some more soup," he commanded his daughter. She stood up immediately to do it, but he stopped her.

"May, I seem to remember that you refused a request earlier, when I asked you to get the bag. I think I'm a fair man, and it's only right that you be punished. Come here." She paused, then approached him hesitantly. His hand shot out, and he grabbed her by the elastic band of her athletic shorts, pulling her quickly towards him. With his other hand he picked up a knife from the table. I screamed, thinking she was about to be killed, but instead he slipped the knife into her shorts, and with two quick cuts, had cut them off completely.

She stumbled backwards, her skimpy white panties now visible. They covered her front, and a bit of her rear, but the sides were just strings. I couldn't imagine she normally wore them- but I had no way of knowing.

She looked at him, mumbling frantic and unintelligible things into her tape gag, then at me, horrorstruck. She shook her head, and her eyes began to water again.

"Now make soup!" her stepfather commanded. She jumped to obey. Her panties covered very little of her ass, and I found myself staring.

Her stepfather caught me at it, and grinned like an older brother, "It's nice to have a little help around the house, isn't it?"

I stared at him, scared, but said nothing.

02-24-2013, 11:09 AM	#1
TheFloss Senior Member Join Date: Oct 2007 Posts: 106	Her Stepfather's Slave [fiction] The year had seemed longer than most. Had seemed more gray. May and I had been friends since fourth grade, but it was only in the slowness of our ninth grade year that we'd ever gotten to know each other. Her mother had died in a car accident that spring, and I found myself seeing May more and more as she needed somebody to talk to. Most of the time we just watched movies or went for quiet walks- I think she just wanted to be around somebody who wasn't her step father. Her stepfather was, to be blunt, an asshole. He'd made no secret of the fact that he'd never wanted a kid, and when he married May's mom five years before, it was only on the condition that he wouldn't have to deal with any of the 'child-raising stuff'. We were only 15, and May frequently spoke of how much she couldn't wait to move out. She was absolutely beautiful- a fact I tried to convince her of more than once, to no avail. She had brown-almost-red hair, and a svelt-yet-relaxed demeanor that put you at ease. That ability to make other people feel like themselves, combined with her good looks, meant that she frequently had more attention from boys than she knew what to do with. She had dated around with a couple boys, but eventually decided it was too exhausting, and had been single for a while. During October I noticed she talked about her stepfather less and less- changing the topic whenever I asked how things were going. She spent more and more time at my place. One night, a few days before December, I received a text around 8pm from May, "can i come over? its important". I responded that that would be fine, and asked her what the problem was, but I didn't get a response. The lack of response nagged at me for an hour. What type of 'important' did she mean? Was it an emergency? It was a Friday night, so I put on a coat and decided to walk over to her place, just in case. I had no idea what I was going to do when I got there- it was a bit late to randomly knock on a door and invite myself in- but I continued to text her as I walked, with still no response. May lived in a house recessed into the trees a bit. Not exactly a cabin, and not exactly 'in the woods', but close enough that it felt almost rustic. I walked down the dirt driveway, and was about to knock on the front door when I lost my nerve. Her stepfather made me uncomfortable. He was gruff, loud, and as often as not, angry about something. I was sure he wouldn't be pleased about me showing up at 10:30 at night. They had a porch equal with the kitchen around back, so I decided to see if I could look in a window. I crept up the stairs to the patio silently, and looked through the blinds. They both had their backs to me. Her father was sitting at the table, and she was standing at the stove, stirring something. It must have been thick, because she was using both hands. What surprised me was that she was wearing a thin spaghetti strap shirt and athletic shorts. I had always thought of May as extremely modest- and I had rarely seen her legs or arms exposed, even in summer. She tended to dress in long shirts and pants, so her skimpy attire, especially in October, was unusual. Hidden as I was, I couldn't help but admire her butt on those shorts. She reached for a ladle, and I realized to my shock why she had been using both hands to stir the soup; they were chained together with handcuffs. My mind reeled- did her father put her in handcuffs? Maybe she was into it- no, this must have been why she wanted to come to my place. Should I call the police? She ladled the soup into two bowls, and carefully carried them over to her father at the table. When she turned, I saw that she had a piece of duct tape plastered over her mouth. She cold have been able to take it off, her hands cuffed in front of her as they were, but I'm guessing that fear kept her from doing so. Her eyes were a bit red, and it was obviously she had just been crying. Her father looked at the soup and grunted, then gave May's ass a thoughtless swat. She jumped a bit. I stumbled a bit myself, and for a moment I thought her father had heard me. I froze as he glanced towards the window, but relaxed when he turned back to his dinner. May sat down at the place opposite him, her eyes downcast, and she began to eat as well. After a minute, her father excused himself from the table, leaving to the other room. I hurriedly tapped on the glass, and she looked towards me, startled. Seeing who I was, she was obviously mortified, shaking her head with wide eyes. I tried to mouth "Are you ok?" through the window, but she gestured for me to leave with her cuffed hands. Then one of the most frightening moments of my life. Pounding heavy feet storming up the stairs of the porch. Her stepfather had snuck outside and was barreling towards me. Fear kept me locked to the spot, and he fiercly grabbed me upon reaching me. "Well Derek. Haven't seen you around in a while," he said, an edge to his voice, "Normally people call before inviting themselves over at 11 at night." "I was just- I mean-" but he cut me off as he drug me in the back door to the kitchen. "May! Your friend's here," he said. May continued to look horrified. Her stepfather kept his vice grip on my arm. "Why is she handcuffed?" I managed to ask through my fear. "We had a disagreement, and this is her punishment," her father replied, trying to make it sound obvious, but it was clear he was uncomfortable. I looked back at May, and saw her left foot had a chain locked to it, that wove over to under the stove. It looked like she couldn't go much further than the dining room. "She's chained to the kitchen?! This is abuse," I said, like an idiot. I should have kept quiet. I should have acted like I believed him, and called the police later- but I didn't. "Fuck. Are you really going to make this complicated, kid? Look. Sit down," then, after a pause of me not doing it, "SIT DOWN." He shoved me into the chair, and swung behind me, and reached around, pinning my arms to the chair. I tried to struggle free, but I didn't have any leverage. I couldn't believe this was happening. "HEY! Let go of me!" I shouted, pointlessly. "May, dear, go get me the bag," he commanded. May shook her head. "Are you disobeying me? May. Get me the bag, or I'll make life so horrible for you, you'll wish you'd never been born." May looked at me, her eyes full of fear and apology, and got up. I hear the chain clink on the ground as she walked to the other side of the kitchen and pulled a black canvas bag off the counter. "Cuff him to the chair," her stepfather commanded. May knelt in front of me, and hesitantly pulled some handcuffs out of the bag, placed the corresponding key on the table, and reached over to me, gently latching the cuffs around both mine and the chair's arm. She did the same with another pair of cuffs, leaning over to secure me to the chair. Kneeling as she was, I saw down her thin shirt and saw and briefly saw her bra- I looked away. "Thank you, dear." He released me, and I pulled quickly at the handcuffs, but they were secure. May's stepfather pulled a coil of rope out of his bag, and quickly wrapped it around my torso, securing me more tightly to the chair, before bending over and securing my feet to the chair legs. He grabbed the keys to my cuffs off the table, put them in his pocket, and stood and looked at me. "Look kid, here's the deal. I don't wanna hear it. Any of it. For every word you say, I'm gonna swat your behind like you've never felt. Five words, five swats. And you better believe you won't be wearing any pants when that goes down. So unless you want to be further humiliated in front of my May here, I recommend you keep your mouth shut." I did as I was told. Her stepfather sat back down in his chair, and May stood from where she'd been kneeling at my side, and sat down across from him again. She moaned quietly into her gag. "May! How rude. I'm sure our guest is hungry. Go make him some more soup," he commanded his daughter. She stood up immediately to do it, but he stopped her. "May, I seem to remember that you refused a request earlier, when I asked you to get the bag. I think I'm a fair man, and it's only right that you be punished. Come here." She paused, then approached him hesitantly. His hand shot out, and he grabbed her by the elastic band of her athletic shorts, pulling her quickly towards him. With his other hand he picked up a knife from the table. I screamed, thinking she was about to be killed, but instead he slipped the knife into her shorts, and with two quick cuts, had cut them off completely. She stumbled backwards, her skimpy white panties now visible. They covered her front, and a bit of her rear, but the sides were just strings. I couldn't imagine she normally wore them- but I had no way of knowing. She looked at him, mumbling frantic and unintelligible things into her tape gag, then at me, horrorstruck. She shook her head, and her eyes began to water again. "Now make soup!" her stepfather commanded. She jumped to obey. Her panties covered very little of her ass, and I found myself staring. Her stepfather caught me at it, and grinned like an older brother, "It's nice to have a little help around the house, isn't it?" I stared at him, scared, but said nothing. Last edited by TheFloss; 02-24-2013 at 11:25 AM.