by Adrian Amos
Ugh, I should have just waited.
But I can't just leave it there. There's no way in hell I want her to know I took it without permission.
So down my hand goes, breaking into the slimy abyss of the sink.
Oh god! I wish I could have washed it out first! It's so gross in here! It's not like there's sludge, but you know the feeling: some places feel nasty whether there's anything palpable inside or not. I close my eyes and breathe through my mouth, as if there's a possibility of inhaling a pile of garbage.
My fingers fumble until... yes! It's the ring at my fingertips, although it's just out of reach. I can touch it, but I can't get enough of a grip to pull it into my palm. I struggle with it, until I resign myself to delve deeper in. I have to shimmy my hand and push in hard in order to get through the tight opening. My hand busts through with a sudden surge, and I'm free to grab the ring. I pull the ring toward me and tuck it into my hand. Oh, thank god!
I breathe a sigh of relief, but as I pull my hand up, it barely moves at all. I dip down, let my hand slacken a little, and try again.
Oh shit! I can't get my hand back through the opening!
In my panic, I completely forgot I put on one of my mom's gold bracelets. How'd I not realize that was why it was so hard to get through the drain?! The goddamn bracelet had to be forced through, and now it's snagging on the rim of the opening.
I try a number of things from reversing my shimmy to letting go of the ring and closing my hand. Neither works. I even try to force my hand through as hard as I can, damn the bracelet! I'll destroy the thing if I have to in order to get out.
But the drain gives me nothing. I don't know how I pushed the bracelet through. Is the opening larger at the top? Did I bend the bracelet so it no longer fits through. What the hell is going on down there...
The front door opens, and to my horror, my stepdad walks into the kitchen.
He glances at me, but quickly diverts his gaze.
I realize why: I'm bent over the sink, and all I'm wearing is what I slept in, which is a small pair of red panties and a super loose shirt hanging over one shoulder.
It's not like me to be dressed like this around the house, but I didn't expect anyone to be home anytime soon. I sure as hell didn't expect to be trapped either!
He clears his throat. “Hey, babygirl, so what are you up to?” He sets his groceries down on the kitchen table, taking his jacket off and setting it on the chair.
He's not looking my way, so he doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I shake my head, “Uh, nothing'.”
He nods, opening his bags and putting the groceries away.
While he's occupied, I take a deep breath, continuing my efforts to free myself. I pull and yank, release and tighten, twist and turn, but nothing works. I'm making no progress whatsoever.
I sigh, and this gets his attention. I guess I have no choice but to ask for his help.
“What's up?”
“Umm, daddy?” My voice is tiny and saccharine. “Could you help me?”
“With what?” He asks, looking my way as he piles boxes in the pantry.
“My hand's stuck.”
His face contorts. It'd be incredibly funny if I weren't in my predicament. “Stuck? How?”
“In the sink. Here, come look.”
He stands next to me, peering at my hand disappearing below. “You can't pull it out?”
I sigh. “No, daddy, of course I can't. I wouldn't be standing here like a doofus if I could.”
He yanks on my hand, and I give out a yelp, the bracelet pulling down on my wrist and doing its damnedest to break my hand.
“Daddy, stop!” I cry out. “I've already tried that!”
“Well, you have to get it out.”
“Yeah, I know that, thanks!” I shout.
He gives me this look, like, don't give me that tone. But he doesn't say anything, letting it slide as he focuses on the task at hand. Instead, he grabs the bottle of dish soap.
“Maybe if we get some soap on the hand, it'll slide out.”
“I doubt it, but we can try.” He doesn't know about the bracelet, but I don't have the courage to tell him right at this moment. About that, or the ring. Maybe he can get me out and I can somehow get away with the ring and bracelet without him noticing.
He squeezes the bottle and a stream of slimy soap spills down my wrist. He proceeds to lather it down my arm.
When he's got me good and ready, he slowly pulls on my hand, carefully working on extracting me. The soap, though, isn't doing anything, as it's not able to get down far enough to reach the part of my hand that's stuck.
Daddy reaches for the faucet, but I cut him off, “No, don't turn on the water!” I grab the ring below me, making sure it doesn't get washed down the plumbing.
Daddy looks at me, his face slowly morphing from confusion to suspicion. “Why? We need to get the soap wet so we can wash it down your wrist.”
“No, I just...” I can't think of anything to say, any excuse to make him back off.
“Babygirl,” he says, his tone stern, “why's your hand stuck in here?”
I shrug, “I don't know.”
“Did you drop something down there?”
“Maybe.”
“What was it?”
I cough. “Mom's ring.”
His jaw loses all tension as it falls slack. “Your grandma's wedding ring?!”
I nod, silently staring at my hand, focusing on something that's not judging me at the moment.
“What the hell were you doing with her ring?”
“I was just trying it on, I swear.”
He shakes his head. He's clearly angry and disappointed, rubbing his chin in frustration. “You know you're not supposed to go through your mom's stuff.”
“Come on, daddy, she never lets me have any fun.”
“You think this is fun?!”
“No, no,” I quickly backtrack. “It's not like I thought I was going to lose the ring.”
“Goddamn it, babygirl.” I flinch at the tone of his voice. “This is exactly why you shouldn't go through someone else's stuff. What do you think your mother's going to say?”
My face goes red. “Daddy, you don't have to tell her. It'll just make her angry.” As scary as daddy is, mom's got a temper on her like the devil. “Let's just keep it between us. Just help me get it out and I'll put it back. Please don't tell her!”
He's fuming, shaking his head as he bites back his words. He stares at me for a moment, and turns around, walking out toward the garage.
“Uh, daddy?” I whine, tilting my head to see where he went. “You can't just leave me here!”
I struggle against the sink, pulling as hard as I can, fighting with all my might to free myself. Panic runs through me as I imagine daddy's left me to fend for myself.
But he comes right back, holding his tool box. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“The last thing I wanted to do. It's a pain in the ass, but now I know your mom's ring is in the sink basin, so I have to remove the whole goddamn thing to get it out.”
I blush. God, why didn't I think of that?
He stoops below, getting under the sink. Quickly, he unscrews—or whatever he's doing—the plumbing below the sink. I can actually feel the housing pull away and my hand come in contact with the outside air.
The disgust in his voice is palpable. “Okay, so, you're also wearing your mom's bracelet. That's why you're stuck.”
“Sorry, sorry. I just forgot to tell you.”
“Where's the ring?”
“In my hand.”
“Drop it,” he commands.
I open my fist and the ring falls from it. It makes no sound, so I assume it lands in daddy's hand. I'm still stuck, but the sense of relief I feel knowing my mom's ring is safe at least can't be discounted.
Daddy stands up behind me, looking the ring over. “At least it doesn't look like it's damaged.”
He stares at me and I look away, not wanting to meet h
is scorn. “I told you, it's fine, daddy.”
“No,” he says, “it's not. You're lucky, that's all I have to say.”
“Well, do you think you can get me out?”
“Yeah, I can get you out. I just need to unclasp the bracelet. But tell me why I should? Why shouldn't I just leave you there for a while?”
I titter, “Come on, daddy. You're joking, right? Don't play around like that.” I give my hand a yank for good measure, but it makes no more movement than before.
He puts mom's ring in his pocket. “We might not be telling your mom about any of this, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve a punishment. How long do you think you could stand there?”
I swallow, a painful lump in my throat. He can't be serious! That's like torture, and I don't think I could tolerate it for very long. “Okay, okay,” I say, “I deserve a punishment, I know, but you can't leave me here. I'll go crazy trapped here.”
“But you need to be punished.”
“I know, I know, whatever you want to do, but please don't leave me here.”
“Okay,” he smirks, his stubble turning the small gesture into something far more devious, “I won't leave you here, for long.”
“For long?”
Daddy comes up behind me, pressing his body into mine. His head rests on my shoulder, and his hands land on my hips, touching both my thighs and my panties. His touch provokes an instantaneous shudder that vibrates up my spine.
I almost giggle, the sensation obnoxiously ticklish. “Daddy, what are you doing?”
“I think right here's a good place to punish you. It'll make it so you can't move around on me too much.”
“Punish me how?”
“I'm going to punish you how little brats deserve to be punished.”
“I'm not a bra—“
Daddy's hand squeezes my ass, crushing my complaint in his grip. The same shudder hits me like before, but this time it doesn't just travel up, it travels forward, coursing through to my pussy. It quivers, reacting hard to the rough hand of the man behind me.
That's not right. That's not how I should respond to my stepdad.
But he's not giving me much choice.
His body releases from mine, but his hand comes straight back to my ass with a vengeance. The open palm smacks me, jolting me forward against the cabinets. I wince from the blistering sting.
“Daddy, stop! You can't spank me! I'm a grown woman.”
“No, you're not. A grown woman doesn't do the stupid shit you do. They know to stay out of other people's property.”
With that, daddy grabs my panties, and with a single yank, pulls them down past my thighs. I gasp, reaching back to pull them up, but being bent over the sink, I can't reach them.
“Daddy, no!”
His hand lands square on my ass, jiggling the flesh with a viper's sting. He alternates, nailing my bent over ass repeatedly, making sure to strike every point of my exposed flesh.
I have to bite my lip from screaming out. My hips buck forward with each smack, bumping into the cabinets. I can see why he'd want me trapped here for this. I'd sure as hell run as soon as it started, intent on getting as far away from him as possible.
But in my current situation, I've no choice but to take his beating in stride.
The sound of his open palm on the fat of my ass echoes throughout the small kitchen, the high-pitched slaps a perfect representation of the burn of each hit.
He hits me ten, twenty, and then a number of times I lose count of. The reason I can't focus on the number is the shock. Not from the pain, but from how my body's reacting to his spanks.
At first, it's straight pain, igniting through me without remorse. But after ten or so spanks, the burn starts to turn to pleasure, a tantalizing flush of energy. My mind wanders to how defenseless I am, and the sounds of daddy's assault on my bottom, which change from an unpleasant pitch to heavenly music to my ears. Slowly my mind turns my vulnerability into an erotic delight, my core heating up the further into my punishment I go.
I shiver and my pussy quivers, absorbing the vibration of daddy's hand and transferring it to my lips and clit. The wetness of my cunt can't be overstated.
It makes me so self-conscious, how daddy's making me feel, I have no choice but to pipe up. “Daddy, this isn't right!”
“We can just tell your mom all about it.”
I shake my head, the thought of her knowing an instant trigger for fear. She'll take the ring away; shit, she'll probably disown me.
“Then this is as right as I say it is.”
I wiggle my butt. “Just do whatever you want to me, daddy.”
And just like that, I go from self-conscious to basically begging for it in the span of a few seconds. I don't mean to, but it's like my body is making all the decisions for me.
The implications don't fly by daddy, that's for sure. There's a pause in his demeanor. I don't know if he was considering pushing the envelope before, but my invitation is too tempting to ignore.
He pressed against me before. I swear I could feel a bulge in his pants when he did. He had to have been thinking about it, seeing his little girl in her underwear, vulnerable to his advances.
I see it in his eyes, a mischievous thought behind them. It eggs me on, driving me to want to see how far he'll take it.
“Go ahead, daddy,” I say, “do whatever you want to me.” I lean forward and pull my ass up and my knees together, which causes two things to happen: my panties fall to the floor, and my pussy lips push out, giving daddy a clear view of them from behind.
My own trap is laid, and daddy can't help but walk right into it, the contents too good to pass up. His hand slides over my cheeks, his middle finger gliding between my pussy lips, splitting them in a sweet motion of ecstasy.
His finger moves from back to front easily. “Babygirl, you're soaking wet.”
I pout. “Well, what do you expect, daddy, when you spank me so hard?”
Daddy grabs my hair and pulls my head back, at the same moment slipping his finger into my tender cunt. “Because that's exactly what daddy expects from such a disrespectful little brat like you. It's not surprising one bit you get turned on by punishment.”
My face burns as badly as my ass does. It's humiliating to hear daddy talk to me like that, like he knows exactly how to push my buttons. He couldn't possibly have known spanking me would turn me on, could he? I can't be that predictable.
Yet he moves with a confidence I'm not expecting, his finger pressing against my g-spot as his hand slips under my shirt, grabbing one of my tits in a fierce show of power.
Daddy's aggression sends a surge of adrenaline through me. “Daddy, you shouldn't—not while I'm stuck here! You shouldn't take advantage of me!”
He replies by pushing his thumb into my ass. I flinch, the sudden invader stunning me. “While your hand is in that sink, babygirl, you're mine. There's no other way about it.”
He presses his middle finger together with his thumb, pinching the inner wall separating my pussy from my ass. I let out a moan as his fingers begin to rub together, the friction starting a fire inside me, increasingly stoked by daddy's other hand twisting my nipple.
He pulls in and out, dragging his fingers along my wall, forcing a gasp from me as I turn my face to the ceiling. Daddy grabs my exposed neck, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. He squeezes, shaking me slightly. “You ready to listen now?”
I cough, struggling to breathe through his tightening grip. Even as I fight for air, my one hand pulling on his wrist as the other pulls against the drain, I can't help but nod. Daddy's stern command elicits a ready obedience, one I didn't know I had in me. I've lived my whole life rebelling, so the rapid capitulation is all the more frightening.
And all the more erotic.
Bending so easily to his will turns a knot in my stomach I can't undo, and as he has his way with my cunt and my ass, the knot only compresses, the tangled mess a sharp stab that resonates deep down. It begs to be released, and to be for
ced open.
With that resonance, I moan, my voice impossible to silence.
“There you go, you little slut. Feel it, feel those fucking fingers inside you.”
“It feels too good, daddy.”
“That's nothing,” he says. “Daddy's about to stick you with something a whole lot bigger.”
Daddy drops his pants, pulling out a monster cock, thick and throbbing, engorged by his daughter's willing body. Daddy pulls it taut, demonstrating just how big his cock is. I don't know if it's any bigger than a normal guy's, but from this angle, it looks way too big to fit into my tight pussy!
“Daddy! You can't! You can't put that in me!”
He puts his hands out to the side. “Go ahead and stop me.” He bobs his cock up and down, displaying his prowess, offering it to me as if I could just push it away.
“Daddy, you know I can't. I'm stuck.”
“Well,” he says, “then there's nothing you can do to stop me from doing this.” His hands skim over my ass, curving around to my hips. He digs his fingers in and yanks me violently back toward him, causing my feet to leave the ground as I hop backward.
I reach back to show an effort of resistance. I know it's pointless, but a woman needs to show her honor, her unwillingness to just be taken by any man who comes around.
The truth, though, is far more damning. There's nothing I want more than to be pushed into doing whatever daddy wants.
I want to resist, but I also want to be forced into getting fucked.
“Still nothing, huh? So if I just do this”—I grit my teeth as daddy slides his cock through my moist lips—“you won't stop me, will you?”
“I can't.”
“You can't, or you won't?”
My face turns crimson. Don't make me admit it.
“Well? Can't or won't?”
I whisper. “I can't.”
His hand connects with my ass, slapping me and making my lower back jerk. “Admit it,” he says. “Admit you're a slut, just like every other brat in the world.”
I shake my head, unwilling to play his game. I can't admit to something like that!
