The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 37 - 11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women

by Rebecca Milton

  “She’ll be alright Dad,” I said. And then we sit in silence.

  The front door opened.

  Into the living room came Joanna, my 18 year old stepsister. She looked a mess, but that was her normal look. Heavy black eyeliner, ripped jeans, off the shoulder top with a cami underneath it, and too many chains around her neck; the look was completed by a look of general indifference. She was two years old when her mother and my father got married.

  “What are you doing here?” She lit up a cigarette.

  “Don’t smoke in the house,” I said. “Your mother was in a car accident. She’s at the hospital in a coma.”

  “Tell me when the bitch is dead,” she said without a hint of sarcasm.

  “For once can you show some respect? She really could die.”

  “Yeah, and then all I have to do is wait for this old bastard to die and I can start living my life.”

  I had never seen my father move so quickly across a room, but before I had registered it, my dad towered above Joanna and backhanded her across the face. “That is your mother!!! She is lying in a hospital bed barely alive and all you can think about is yourself?!! You smell like weed and liquor, where have you been?”

  “I wasn’t fucking if that’s what you think I’ve been doing. I’m still a virgin, Daddy. I’m going upstairs.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “The insolence!!!” my father yelled. “After everything we’ve done for her!!” A vein was getting ready to pop out of his forehead.

  “Dad, calm down so that we can go to the hospital.”

  ***

  Since that day, Joanna has not gone to see her mother. She and Dad argue about that, and her activities, every single day. She’s become more reckless, and recklessness is not tolerated by my dad.

  At the same time though, he has let up on me. I managed to secure a decent job at a small finance firm. I moved back into the house until things get better around here. I felt as if for once in his life, my father needed me. He took half days at work, and divided his time between the hospital and the house.

  It was weird at first, without Isabella’s laughter around the house. It was too quiet, until the arguing started. And once Joanna stormed out of the house, it was quiet once again. Dad and I would take this time to sit in front of the TV, watch a sport or a movie, or the news, and make small talk. It was us attempting some type of normal father-son relationship.

  “Isabella is a good woman,” he says one night. We were eating some pasta dish that he put together. He’s a decent cook, but his heart wasn’t into this meal. “I don’t understand why Joanna acts like she hates her so much. Isabella never did anything wrong by that girl. I never did anything wrong by that girl. Do you know that her father had a bad cocaine addiction?”

  “I never knew that.”

  “Yeah, Isabella made him go to rehab, and he came home, and when Joanna was born, he relapsed. Isabella wasn’t going to raise that girl around that, so she left him. I met her a little while later.”

  “She’s still a bit young Dad. She’ll grow out of it.”

  “No, no,” he says, shaking his head, “she needs to be taught some type of lesson. Respect and responsibility needs to be forced into her. We’ve let it go on for far too long.” The look in his eyes scares me.

  “How do you plan on doing that? She’s 18; you can’t touch her unless you somehow get her arrested.”

  “David, I know I’ve been hard on you, but I really need you to do this.”

  A chill went down my body. “Do what?”

  He explains what he wants me to do. “Please. You’ve never done anything I’ve wanted you to do, please do this one.”

  “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Dad, that’s just….wrong.”

  “Everyone wins. She’ll learn some respect, and we’ll all get some peace. Isabella will be so happy to find a new daughter when she wakes up.”

  “But….”

  “She’s only your stepsister. Please David. This is the only way I can think of to save her.”

  “Civilized men don’t do things like this.”

  “She isn’t that much of a civilized woman.”

  “And if I do it?”

  “I’ll leave you alone about your life. You don’t have to come and work for me, unless you want to.”

  The thought of finally being able to live my life, the very thing Joanna wants to do, warmed my body. Is it selfish of me that I’m thinking of doing it just for that very reason? It’s not like he’s going to give me more stuff in the will, or even money in general. But peace of mind is important to me. “How are we going to do this?”

  Following Joanna around wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. She almost has a set routine. She leaves the house, stops by a friend’s house (I have no idea who) and stays there for several hours. They might leave if they need to re-up on weed or alcohol; in that case, they have their fake ids for the alcohol. They might check out an 18 and over club at night, and return to the friend’s place to continue the festivities. Sometimes she’ll go to a store and shop for clothes with our parents’ money. I learned all of this in a few days; imagine what I would learn in a few months.

  Our plan was very simple. This was the hard part.

  “First, you have to kidnap her.”

  Joanna emerges from a friend’s apartment alone, eyes glued to her cell phone. I allow her to cross the street before I get out of the black rented Suburban, pull the baklava over my face and begin to follow her. Lucky for me, no one was out at this time of night.

  I feel my heart beating out of my chest, which is expected, given that I’ve never kidnapped anyone before. Out of my pocket I pull out a cloth and some chloroform and I pour a liberal amount into the cloth.

  I speed up to catch up with her, and my heart is damn near making an appearance. I calm my breathing, say a quick prayer, and grab her. She struggles, and struggles madly, bucking against me like a horse that’s about to be put down. The chloroform finally works its magic and she’s out.

  She’s light, and getting her back to the car is easy. I pull off from the curb and drive north, towards downtown, and my father’s penthouse apartment. Joanna has never been here, and I’ve only been here a few times myself.

  “I have a penthouse downtown that Isabella and I used to use for our more….adult activities. I have some equipment there for you to use,” my dad said when we were discussing the plan.

  “I remember it,” I said solemnly. I had used it myself to impress people.

  The penthouse is warm and dusty when I open the door. I pull Joanna into the apartment before someone sees us, and lay her on the bed. Rushing, I remove all the pictures and anything else that would give it away that this was her stepfather setting her up.

  I set up all the equipment on and around the bed — chains, new toys, harnesses, whips, a ball gag and a flogger — and remove her clothing off of her. I strap her to the harness, until she is an X in the air. I strap the ball gag to her mouth. I get myself prepared as well, putting the baklava back on, and nothing else. I try to get my dick hard, but it isn’t happening. I’m still creeped out about this.

  I look at Joanna’s body. She’s skinny, too skinny for my liking, with small tits. A tattoo of Tinkerbell takes up the left side of her torso. Her pussy hair is neatly trimmed to near invisible proportions.

  I grab the smelling salts out of the bag and hold them under her nose. She wakes up with the start. She tries and fails to yell through the ball gag, and she begins to cry. I panic, and rack my brain for a solution to this. My father’s aggression towards her passes through my mind and I do the one thing that makes sense — I smack her across the face.

  My dick perks up.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I say. “Do you know why you’re here Joanna?”

  She shakes her head, quietly sobbing.

  “You’re a fucking cunt. You walk around here disrespecting everyone who cares ab
out you, doing stupid shit, trying to whore your body out to whoever has enough weed and alcohol. Are you a whore Joanna?”

  Her sobs grow louder, and I smack her again. “Are you a fucking whore?”

  “No!!!” she cries louder.

  Another smack. “Shut up! You’re not a whore? Let’s see.”

  I stick two fingers inside of her pussy. She lets out a cry. I move around in there, feeling how tight she is. “Good girl. We can’t let that go to waste.” I get behind her. She struggles to see behind herself, to see what I’m doing. By now, my dick is hard and ready. Who knew that me getting into character would alleviate my hesitation? “We have all the time in the world. I am going to fuck some respect into you, and maybe then you’ll be a good girl for once.”

  “No, no, no!!”

  She struggles, but I manage to enter her. I try to be gentle, but with her squirming, that is damn near impossible, and she lets out a shrill shriek. I keep pumping into her, and her shriek becomes a whimper, as I effectively fuck her. I grab her by her hair. “How does it really feel you whore?”

  I haven’t had pussy this tight in ages, and I enjoy it for another five minutes; eventually, I come inside of her, feeling spent. I could get used to this.

  I let her down from the harness, and she slumps down into a pile on the floor, trying to cover herself up with her arms and she doesn’t look at me as I sit on the bed.

  “…can I go?” She asks quietly.

  “No. You haven’t learned anything yet.”

  “Please….”

  I jump up and grab her by her hair. “You’re talking too much.” I shove my flaccid dick into her mouth. “Lick yourself off.” She sloppily sucks me. My dick starts coming back to life, and I fuck her face until she has licked every drop of herself off of me. I toss her onto the bed and climb on top of her. I trap her wrists in the cuffs I have cuffed to the bed. She kicks me, hard, and I hold her legs by her ankles, using a free hand to enter her. She cries out with every thrust, and I push her legs forward to go deeper into her.

  Finally, I finish and it feels amazing.

  I sling her legs down and get off of her. “Go to sleep.”

  I leave her whimpering on the bed and head towards the bathroom. I turn the water on and climb into the shower. I rest my head against the cool beige tile and let the water run over me, a figurative baptism, to rinse off what I’ve just done.

  “If everything goes according to plan, she’ll learn some respect,” my father had said.

  Nothing ever goes to plan.

  I barely hear the door to the bathroom open. The shower door swings open and I’m being pummeled over the head with a vase. It breaks apart all over the shower, and some of the shards cut into my body.

  Joanna has the look of a wild woman on her face, as she picks up a large shard of the vase and tries to stab me in the throat with it. I grab her arm and pin it behind her back.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you!!!!” she yells.

  “Calm down!!! Joanna, calm down!!!”

  “You!!!!! YOU!!!!!”

  “I can explain!”

  “How can you explain this?!!!”

  “My dad-“

  “THAT SON OF A BITCH TOLD YOU TO DO THIS TO ME?!!”

  “Joanna….”

  I take her back to the bedroom, no concern for the water or the blood coming off of my body. I wrap her in some blankets.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  I try my best to explain what was running through our minds when we developed this plan.

  “You two are my family-”

  “Now you want to talk about family. You’ve never treated us like we were your family.”

  “I was always afraid that you would leave me like my father did.”

  She looks vulnerable, innocent even. She’s just a girl who’s a bit lost, trying to find her way possibly. And I just did something very horrible to her.

  “Joanna, I’m sorry.”

  “You’re fucking sorry? You’re fucking sorry?!!” She slaps me across the face. I forget myself and slap her back. She tackles me and slaps me repeatedly across the head. I flip her over onto her stomach and cuff her back to the bed. She slides her skinny arm out of the cuff, and I put it back in tighter. I cuff the other arm the same.

  “You want to fuck some respect into me?!!! Do it!! Do it!!”

  I eye the flogger on the night stand and grab it. I tease her, running it over her skin first before hitting her as hard as I could with it. It stings, as she lets out a slight whelp. I don’t like the weight on the flogger though and pick up the whip. The whip gets a stronger reaction out of her.

  I speak a word on every hit. “Will! You! Be! Good?!!” The whip cracks in the air. Her pale skin is now severely red.

  “YES!!!”

  By now her back was good and purple. I poked her. “Ahh…”

  I left her to herself. Hopefully she would go to sleep.

  It continued like this for three days. I would fix us breakfast, make sure she showered and fucked and whipped her intermittently throughout the day. At this point, I had given her many chances to escape, but she didn’t. She began to get used to it.

  We come home, and my father is in the kitchen preparing a late lunch. “Hello.”

  “Hi dad,” we both say. My heart skips a beat hearing her say that.

  “Can we go and see my mother; after I change clothes though?”

  “Yes, yes we can,” he says, smiling. She leaves, and he comes and embraces me in a huge bear hug. “You did it. I’m so proud of you. Finally, we’ll have some peace.” He lets out a hearty laugh of satisfaction, as if he did the job himself. I don’t feel too good, but at least she’s going to see her mother.

  ***

  She made a complete turnaround. She visited her mother, stopped her under-aged drinking, she even enrolled in courses at the local junior college for the spring. She also cleaned up her look, and made an effort to try to get to know the both of us a little better. I still felt weird about how we got her to this though.

  “The means justify the ends David,” my dad said over cold beers and football.

  “The means would have us in jail if she told on us.”

  My dad shrugged. “She hasn’t told, and she won’t. We’re fine.”

  I’m in my room watching Sports Center when I hear a soft knock. Joanna peaks her head through the door. She was wearing her thick purple robe with kittens stitched into it.

  I’m a bit scared. “What’s up?”

  “Even though the way you did it was horrible, you turned my life around. Your father isn’t that bad of a person and I’m starting to forgive my mother. I always felt like she didn’t try hard enough to get my dad off of drugs….that he loved the drugs more than he loved us.”

  “He was an addict. They don’t know any better. I’m sure he loved the both of you and that your mom did everything she could.”

  “I never felt like it was enough. I suppose that was selfish of me to feel that way though. And I can’t even tell her this, because she can’t talk to me.”

  “She knows. And she’ll be so happy when she wakes up.”

  “What if she never wakes up?”

  “She will.”

  “Thank you David.” She gets up off of the bed and slides her robe down her body. She’s naked.

  “Joanna-“

  “Let me thank you.”

  “Not like this though.”

  “What does it matter?” She straddles me and gives me a deep kiss. “Fuck me hard.”

  With those three words, my reservations go out of the window. I begin to kiss her back. She stops it when it begins to get good, and slaps me across the face. I slap her back and toss her onto her back. She tears at my clothing like an animal, slaps my face again, and resumes tearing at my clothes, until I am as naked as she is. She kisses me one last time and says, “Fuck me.”

  I enter her hard and fast and keep that pace while she bucks against me. She takes one of my hands and pu
ts it around her throat, which surprises me, and gestures for me to choke her gently. I do so and I see a wave of pleasure sweep through her body. Her pussy gets wetter and I stroke her faster. She slaps me across the face again.

  An idea.

  I take the sash from her robe and hog tie her hands behind her back, and force her up onto her knees. Once again, I enter her. “You like slapping me?”