Man of the House

Summary: Step-mom-to-be gets major surprise when home alone with step-daughter-to-be

Note 1: This is an April Fool's 2017 Contest Story so please vote.

Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven, Robert, Dave, and Wayne for editing this story.

Man of the House

My fiancé announced, last minute, he was going to Boston for a week on business, and that he was terribly sorry, but he would miss spending the one year anniversary of our engagement with me. There was nothing he could do about it, and I would just have to deal with it; he would make it up to me (in some unspecified fashion) upon his return. I know it sounds pathetic, but I love milestones and celebrations, and I was very disappointed. Plus, this weekend we were supposed to be making wedding decisions. The wedding wasn't until August, but even our invitation list was far from finalised.

The night before he left, he really fucked the hell out of me. He had a seven inch dick, the biggest I'd ever had, and he used it to bring me to multiple orgasms as he dominated me unmercifully. It was so good! Being dominated really turned me on, even though no one except the two of us (and my former boyfriends, all fortunately living in far-away cities) could possibly know I was a submissive. During the work week I was a tough, win-at-all-costs feminist lawyer, and nobody could have guessed what amazing pleasure I found in surrendering to my lover. As I was finally drifting off to an exhausted, well-satisfied sleep, he startled me wide awake, not in a bad way, by telling me he had a plan to keep me well fucked while he was gone.

I lay in bed, cum leaking from my ass, as he paced the bedroom, excited about his announcement, barely restraining himself from telling me all the details of his plan. Oh, you want to know more about my ass? It's a very nice one even if I say so myself, taut and firm from my regular exercise sessions, and the hidey-hole he liked to shoot into the most. I also have what I'm told is a beautiful face, with generous lips and expressive eyes, and when we were in Europe during Christmas he shot a load on my lovely face almost every day as a reminder that behind my fierce facade of feminism I was a dirty cum slut. He was right of course, and his accusation only turned me on even more than I already was from his sperm cascading all over my face.

Anyway, back to his plan. I asked him how he planned to keep me sexually happy while he was away. We literally fucked every day or night, even when I was on my period (he just used my mouth and asshole exclusively then), and going a week without him seemed like an eternity. I couldn't accompany him on his trip because I was the lead defense attorney in a case that had just started trial, and my client was counting on me to literally save her life in the face of some very damaging evidence, all while she struggled with the grief of her husband's murder. I had access to very convincing evidence (but inadmissible, damn it) that she didn't do it. So it was obvious to me and my team that she was innocent, but it would still take every spark of brilliance at our command to get her acquitted. (It's stress like this that makes it such a relief to come home at night, surrender all decisions and just wallow in being a brainless cum slut for my man.)

Anyway, Jim wouldn't tell me his plan, just promised I would be pleasantly surprised... which, of course, annoyed me... but he shut me up with a face fuck and a second load, this time all over my face. He then made me keep wearing it on my face as I went downstairs to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water.

This wouldn't be a big deal, but his eighteen year old daughter was home and watching television... yet he was like that, bless him, always pushing my boundaries... always reminding me who was in charge.

And as frustrating as it was... it never failed to turn me on.

I hurried downstairs to the kitchen in nothing but my robe, and was pouring water into the glass, huge gobs of cum decorating my face, when Morgan, my future stepdaughter, startled me by asking, "Is there any orange juice in the fridge?" I'd thought she was still in the living room. This could get awkward!

I stammered, not turning around, "I-I-I think so."

"Can you pour me a glass?" she asked.

"S-s-sure," I again stuttered, very stressed and trying to figure a way to get through this while keeping my face hidden.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tone sounding like she was concerned by my behaviour.

"Just tired," I answered, as I removed the orange juice from the fridge, keeping my back to her the entire time.

"I can imagine," she replied, "it sounded like Dad was really wearing you out up there."

I gasped. "Morgan!"

"What?" she defended. "You two aren't very discreet or quiet... especially you.

I put the orange juice pitcher back in the fridge as I said, my cheeks burning red, "We'll have to be quieter from now on."

"Please don't do that because of me," she replied. "I know every time you two fuck, and I don't mind a bit. I'd love to put a microphone in your room and a speaker next to my bed... it's really hot!"

Although Morgan had a bit of a potty mouth, she had never spoken like this to me. I scolded, "Morgan, please watch your language."

"I heard a lot worse echoing down the stairs a few minutes ago," she pointed out.

My already red face blushed even hotter as I recalled screaming, 'Ream my asshole!' 'fuck my cunt!' and 'bang your slut!'

"I suppose you must have," I sighed, turning sideways to put her glass on the counter.

She finally noticed I was being evasive and asked, "Why won't you look at me?"

With no idea how I could remotely answer that question, I turned around wordlessly.

"Oh, I see," she said, seeing the unmistakable white blobs all over my face.

"Sorry," I whispered mortified, and hurried back up the stairs to our bedroom.

In the bedroom, I told Jim what happened and he roared with laughter. I stressed it wasn't funny. But as usual, he shut me up the way he always did... with his cock. He had me suck him for over half an hour while he watched sports highlights, before he deposited a final load down my throat.

Oddly, sucking his cock soothed me, kind of like an adult pacifier, and it gave me time to decide that Morgan was an adult and knew we had sex... so fuck it.

The next evening as Jim was heading to the airport (he took a taxi because I hated airport goodbyes), he said to his daughter, "While I'm gone, I need you to be the Man of the House."

I rolled my eyes at him as Morgan agreed, "For sure, Daddy. I'll take good care of her."

Her tone was condescending, yet after last night I still felt mortified even to be around her, so I let it go.

Jim came to me, kissed me and whispered, "Do whatever she tells you to."

"Oh yes sir," I mocked, thinking he was kidding.

He kissed me again and headed out. He hadn't been gone fifteen minutes before Morgan called out from the living room (I was in the kitchen), "Hannah, can you bring me a Coke?"

"Sure," I said, thinking she was acting just like him, as he often requested I bring him drinks or snacks.

I grabbed her a coke and she surprised me again as I brought it to her. "Could you massage my feet?"

"Pardon?" I asked, surprised by the request.

"My feet are sore after cheerleading practise," she said, still in her cheerleader outfit and pantyhose... her coach, old school, still insisted on pantyhose with the outfit, unlike most teams, who compete bare legged these days.

I always wear nylons... sometimes pantyhose, sometimes thigh highs and sometimes a garter and stockings, as I love dressing sexy underneath my professional business attire.

And although I should have said no, I shrugged and said, "Why not?" I went to her, dropped to my knees, a position I often assumed in front of my husband, and took one of her nylon-clad feet in my hand.

And for the next twenty minutes, I massaged both her feet and ankles, while she watched television. The entire time I couldn't believe I was behaving like a servant, yet I kept doing it.

Finally, Morgan said, "Thanks Mom, that's enough."

It was the first time she had ever called me Mom... usually calling me by my first name, Hannah.

I awkwardly got up off my knees, and replied for some reason, "Anytime, honey."

"Good to know," she replied, without actually looking at me.

I returned to the kitchen and made myself some tea, knowing I needed to do some more research for tomorrow's trial. Even though my client was innocent, I would have to do some fancy footwork with precedents to convince the court to allow some of my evidence.

That night in bed, I did what I often did when my fiancé was gone (usually just for a day or two at the most... not a whole damn week), I watched one of my favourite porn scenes (My Wife's Boss, where the boss allows the husband of a woman she'd just fired to fuck and use her) while I got off... needing an orgasm to fall asleep. I truthfully couldn't remember the last time I hadn't had an orgasm before falling asleep.

As usual, once my orgasm hit, I quickly drifted into slumber.

.....

When I returned after a long day, the trial progressing well even after a bumpy day of ups and downs, I texted Morgan, "Want pizza?"

She texted back, "Sure. Amber and Katie are here too."

I texted back, "Okay. I'll pick up a couple."

I did just that and returned home with three pizzas and a couple of 2L Cokes.

Morgan called out from the living room, "Hannah, please bring the pizzas in here with some plates."

I sighed, annoyed that she was so bossy and lazy... a conversation I needed to have with her later... although not when her friends were around. I brought the pizzas into the living room, noticing all three girls were in their cheerleading outfits, and went back and grabbed the plates.

Once I'd handed each of the three teens a plate, Morgan asked, "Can you serve each of us?"

"What?" I asked. Before quickly replying, "Um, yeah, sure. What kind would you like, Amber?"

"Pepperoni," the blonde girl answered.

I put a slice on the plate and handed it to her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lynch," Amber said politely.

"You're welcome, Amber," I replied, before turning to Katie and asking, "And you?"

"Cheese, please," the brunette, her long hair in a ponytail, answered.

"Coming up," I said politely, opening the other box and handing a slice to her.

"Thanks," Katie said, taking the plate.

"Of course," I answered, before turning to my step-daughter-to-be, "And a loaded for you."

"I'm always loaded," Morgan answered, which made both her friends giggle.

"Um, okay," I said, not sure how that could possibly be funny... especially since I knew she didn't drink, but I handed her a piece before grabbing myself a cheese slice.

"Can you get us some drinks too?" Morgan asked, seemingly oblivious to my obvious annoyance.

"I guess," I sighed, as I walked out and poured four glasses of Coke. I brought them back in two trips before again sitting down and finally getting to eat. Thankfully, the girls grabbed their own second slices as we ate in relative silence while they watched some cheerleader video.

Once we were done, I grabbed the pizza boxes and put the leftovers away; there was more than enough for Morgan and me for lunch tomorrow. I was about to go and have a bath, my back a bit sore, when Morgan called out, using the term Mom again, something she had always avoided in our rocky relationship until yesterday, "Mom."

"Yes?" I asked a moment later after I'd returned to the living room.

"Can you massage my feet, Mom?" she asked, her tone unreadable.

"Um, I was about to take a bath," I said, trying to make it obvious I wasn't really interested... especially in front of her friends.

"Please, Mommy," she pouted, all dramatic, besides being a cheerleader she was also in drama club, "It felt so nice last night when you did it."

I don't know why. Maybe it was my natural submissive nature at home, maybe it was her pouty face, but before I knew it, I shrugged, sitting down at her feet, "Sure, why not."

"Thanks, Mommy," she said eagerly, lifting her right foot up into my hand.

And then, like the day before, she ignored me.

But unlike last time, there were two other girls with us, and she chatted with them as if I weren't there.

Morgan asked, "So what are you wearing to Friday's dance?"

"No idea," Amber answered.

"Clothes," the always witty Katie deadpanned.

Morgan sighed, "Okay, are you dressing up hot for Jake?"

Katie answered, "Maybe."

Morgan continued, "It wasn't a yes or no question. And the answer was yes. It's a formal dance, after all."

"I'm not sure I have anything formal," Katie answered.

"I do," Morgan said. "You can borrow one of my debutant gowns. Although it may need a couple of adjustments to slut it up."

"Your mother is right here," Katie pointed out as I wordlessly massaged my future daughter's feet... like a servant. Katie was the sweet one, but coming from a poorer family had probably never seen a servant in her life.

"And she was a teenager once," Morgan countered. "Weren't you Mommy?"

The use of the term 'Mommy' was weird, but I nodded, "It was the eighties, so it was big hair, colourful dresses,"

"And sex?" Morgan questioned, looking down at me.

"I plead the fifth," I joked.

Amber jumped in, "Can I borrow a debutant dress too?"

"Sure," Morgan nodded, as she moved her other foot to me.

I switched feet and kept listening, finding it interesting to be a teenager again... well, at least trying to understand teenagers again.

"Awesome," Amber said about the promised gown, all excited.

Then for a few minutes, they chatted about dresses and boys and other generic teenage first world problems. Then Morgan surprised me again by asking, "Do either of you want a foot massage?"

"Really?" Amber asked.

"I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind, would you Mommy?" Morgan asked, looking down at my shocked face, my hands currently rubbing her ankle.

I really didn't think I could say no, otherwise I'd look rude. So I acted nonchalant. "Sure," I answered.

"Okay, that would be great," Amber agreed, seeming quite excited.

So I let go of my step-daughter-to-be's foot and moved over to the pretty, kind of dumb, blonde. I took her left foot in my hand and began massaging as Morgan and the girls spent ten minutes gossiping about their peers (mostly Morgan providing information and opinions... mostly in a negative way... and Amber agreeing while Katie remained silent... while I massaged Amber's feet.

Amber complimented me, "That feels very nice, Mrs. Lynch."

I didn't respond, not sure what to say, although oddly I was enjoying the menial, somewhat demeaning task... especially if this was a way to somehow grow closer to my future stepdaughter.

"Do Katie now, Mommy," Morgan ordered.

I began to move to her when Katie finally spoke up, "No, that's okay."

Morgan insisted, as I stopped moving, "No, Mom wants to, don't you Mommy?"

Oddly, I was mixed. Part of me wanted to... I was enjoying being with the teens, even if it was in a servile sort of way. Yet, I also knew that this was demeaning and made me look weak as if I was sucking up to Morgan... which I guess I was. So I answered, even though I knew it made me look weak, "Yes, I'd love to."

"Then do it," Morgan instructed as if it were an obvious imperative that I should be doing it.

Katie looked at me with a look of sympathy as I sat down in front of her and took her nylon-clad foot in my hand.

They again resumed chatting as if I wasn't there, Morgan even asking the other two, "Who should my next target be?"

I was curious what she meant by 'target'.

Amber answered, her tone dripping with innuendo, "I think you already have your next target in your sights."

Morgan laughed, "I think you may be right... but until I got inspired I was thinking of Sarah. But the new one could use a good fucking, especially now."

I kept massaging, even as I wondered, 'Is Morgan gay?' She didn't act like it and I had seen her doing PDA with boys. Then I realized it was 2017 and being bi was in... and Morgan would definitely do whatever was in.

"She does need a good fucking," Amber agreed, looking down at me as she said it. "Although so do I."

"What do you think, Katie? Make it a unanimous vote? Should she be my next target?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know," Katie answered sheepishly.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Morgan asked, the conversation getting awkward.

"What? N-N-No!" Katie stammered, her cheeks going ruby red.

"There's always enough for my cheerleader sluts," Morgan said, clearly enjoying both embarrassing Katie and shocking me.

I finally had enough and stood up and said, "Morgan, please watch your language."

"Okay, Mommy," she replied with a smirk.

"I'm going to have a bath," I said, and walked out of there... oddly quite horny. I hadn't been on my knees in front of a girl since college, at a wild sorority party that ended with me licking three different seniors. That night mortified me, how easily alcohol had me doing things I usually wouldn't do. I had already been dating my future first husband (that had lasted nine years and gave us no children... my choice) and felt guilty for cheating. I never let it happen again... although many of my fantasies ever since had been about submitting to girls.

I had fantasized submitting to some of my secretaries, as they are seen as below me, some of my clients or even the clients I fought against... there's no conflict of interest in fantasy. And now in the bath, I was secretly and safely fantasizing submitting to my daughter's cheerleader friends... especially Katie... imagining that behind her sweet demeanour lurked a dominant who would put me in my place, put me on my knees, and put me securely between her legs. I got myself off, like I often did in the bathroom, with my shower head... which always brought me glorious orgasms.

When I returned downstairs an hour later, Morgan and her friends were gone. This made me relax as I wasn't sure how to have a normal conversation with her after the weird, disrespectful treatment she had given me. After my orgasm in the tub, I'd had time to replay the evening and come to realize, although it should have been obvious, that everything that happened tonight was Morgan's attempt to humiliate me in front of her friends.

I really did need to have a discussion with her about this... although I knew it would be awkward... I also knew it was a necessity if she was going to be living in this house as my stepdaughter.

She didn't return home until I was already in bed, enjoying a late night orgasm (after watching a hot lesbian scene while imagining it was me being dominated (a great clip called Closing the Deal, where a stepdaughter molests her step-mother while she is on the phone) that allowed me to drift into a sweet slumber.

The next morning, I was already dressed for work and pouring myself some coffee when I felt arms wrap themselves around me and I was kissed on the neck. "Good morning, Mommy."

I shivered at her touch; Morgan had never done anything like this.

I turned around, seeing her in a white blouse, a very short plaid skirt and thigh high stockings... where I could see the entire lace top stockings even when she was standing. I asked, "Isn't this outfit a bit inappropriate for school?"

"Why?" She asked, looking down at herself with obvious admiration.

"It's distracting," I answered.

"To whom? You?" she asked.

"What? No!" I protested, shocked by her accusation.

"Plus, these are your own thigh highs," she pointed out.

"They are?" I asked, even though the question was redundant since she had just said as much.