Sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




Friday the 13th Pt. 02b

SPOILER ALERT!

To gain maximum enjoyment from this story please read FRIDAY THE 13TH Pt. 01 & 2a first.

The premise of this section will clarify why I decided to split Part 2 into a & b and I hope you like the idea.

Again, I thank SlaveGirl70 and LunarSirius for their assistance with editing and tweaking.


*****

It was just coming up to midday when I turned the key and opened the front door.

"Hi Dad! You Home?" I called out, but there was no answer. Strange, I thought, as the car was in the driveway. Perhaps he was in the back garden. I walked down the hall and through the kitchen, opened the back door and stepped out onto the patio and called out again, "Dad?" Still no reply, and the shed door was locked up tight, so he wasn't in there either. Never mind, I'll just get the suitcase I came for and leave. He probably wouldn't even notice I've been here.

I returned to the kitchen, closed the back door and headed upstairs to the main bedroom where Mum had said the suitcase was stored in the bottom of the wardrobe. As I entered the bedroom, I spotted Mum tied to the bed and immediately stopped dead in my tracks. "Oh my God!" I sputtered in astonishment. "Mum! What's going on? How long have you been like this?"

I moved around the bed to get a closer look and as my gaze ran up her body from the base of the bed I could see that she was wearing a pair of black stiletto court shoes, sheer black stockings which ran up just short of the hem of a black, short sleeved mini dress showing a little thigh above the lacy stocking tops. Her legs were joined by ropes just above and below the knees; her ankles were also tied together and secured to the framework of the bed.

Further up, I saw that she had been fitted with a leather posture collar, keeping her head pushed back, a full head harness with an attached red ball gag and a faux satin blindfold. Above that was a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs attaching her wrists to the frame at the head of the bed. What didn't quite add up was a lump at her crotch, her somewhat misshapen breasts, short hair and...hairy arms? Then I froze a second time. It wasn't Mum.

"What the fuck? Dad?"

"Grrmmmphh!" He replied. I surveyed the scene again, but more closely this time, taking in the whole set-up. My experience as an escort­-come-dominatrix immediately told me that this was self bondage, what with the timer, lamp, string and key. You see, for the last 2½ years I had been living in a ground floor flat near the university. I started out paying my way through school by renting myself out as a high-class escort. Apparently, I was just what men desired, according to the agency with whom I had signed. As a 5'10", slim, raven-haired beauty, both well-spoken and educated, I was able to dress elegantly to impress my dates and their friends, not only with looks but also conversation. I was in constant demand as intelligent eye candy for highly placed directors, proprietors and managers, but I stuck rigidly to the no sex rule insisted upon by the agency. An occasional snog and grope was as far as it went, but even that was only if I fancied my client.

After a year or so, I realised that many of my clientèle were partial to being submissive, precisely because of the power they wielded in their everyday lives. So I invested some of my earnings in some basic BDSM equipment. I continued with the no sex rule, but bent it slightly by interpreting it as no physical sex between client and escort. Eventually, I quit the agency and rented the basement under my flat, fitting it out as a dominatrix lair and dungeon.

Since then, between studies, I've made a small fortune, which has easily surpassed that required for university fees and living expenses. I have become quite used to the more lavish lifestyle, but of course have hidden this side of my life from my family and old friends.

Once I had fully absorbed the situation in front of me, I have to admit that a small chuckle escaped my lips. "Oh...My...God," I deliberately sounded each word and then continued in my best Dominatrix voice, "This is obviously your own little set-up. But I think we can manage a bit better than this, don't you?" I stated as I formulated a little plan in my mind. If my Dad was into bondage, then I might as well give him the benefit of my experience.

I quickly untied his feet from the framework at the foot of the bed and rolled him over. I pulled his head backwards and, as a temporary measure, tied off his ankles to the harness, which must have been quite a strain on the poor little darling's neck. He screamed into his gag, so I decided to teach him from the off that a slave only makes a noise when given permission by his or her Mistress.

I gave him three hard slaps across his buttocks, which only managed to elicit three more screams. For Christ's sake, what sort of a wimp have I got as a stepfather? Am I expected to accept that a flat hand slap through the material of a dress actually hurts? Well, if he thinks that hurts, wait till I crush his balls!

I slipped my hand under his body and up his dress and stopped for a second. Was that the unmistakable feel of rubber under his knickers? And an electric cock ring? I put my mouth right next to his ear and whispered menacingly, "Even more kinky than I first thought. You're also into rubber and buzzy toys! In any case, this new discovery certainly won't change my mind. So you'll shut up or I'll tear this off with my bare hands, you perverted little creep!" I squeezed his balls hard and dug my nails into the side of his sac.

Strange how that managed to shut him up, don't you think? But I also got the other reaction I was expecting. His penis began to harden in my hands. You can always rely on a man's dick to take control, even when you think the situation is so embarrassing that he would be expected to curl up and die. He was obviously more turned on by the BDSM treatment he was receiving than turned off by the fact that it was being administered by his stepdaughter, whom he had raised as his own from the age of 11. I have to admit a pang of conscience on my own part at this point. How might this affect our kinship? But I rationalised that as long as I kept to a strictly Mistress/Client relationship then everything should be OK. After all, it had worked before!

I chuckled again and began rhythmically compressing his penis through the rubber sheath saying, "You really are twisted, aren't you? Turned on by your own daughter? What would Mum say if she knew that?" He very soon reached a full erection and I have to admit that he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. "Hmmm!" I continued, "It seems Mum got a good deal when she married you. She may be reasonably pleased with the quantity, but that doesn't necessarily prove ability or experience when it comes to operational requirements. I'll have to think about how I can test that aspect."

Now to continue with my little plan, I went to the chest of drawers and started searching for a belt or two. "A-Ha!" Third drawer lucky! I returned and took the key from the lamp and unlocked the handcuffs. I crossed his arms behind his back and strapped the forearms together with one of the belts. I then undid the rope from his head harness and retied his ankles to his forearms, retaining the hog-tie, but looser. To ensure he didn't wriggle off the bed and hurt himself I secured his head harness to the framework at the top of the bed with the second belt, and I used the handcuffs to tie his knee ropes to the bottom of the bed.

"I'll just collect the suitcase I came for," I said, "and then I'll be off." I took Mum's small suitcase, which I needed for a three-day city break to Paris on Wednesday, from the bottom of her wardrobe.

As I turned to leave I called back to Dad from the bedroom doorway. "I've unplugged the lamp and the 'toy' so just be a dear and lie there quietly until Mum gets home from work and finds you. I presume at that point one of two things will happen: If she doesn't know about your little hobby, then you will no doubt have an awful lot of explaining to do. But if she does know, then she'll be amused to find you here waiting for her and the only thing you'll have to explain is how you managed to so successfully tie yourself up for her pleasure."

With that I left him to sweat and worry whilst I headed home to put part two of my hastily dreamt up plan into action.SPOILER ALERT!

To gain maximum enjoyment from this story please read FRIDAY THE 13TH Pt. 01 & 2a first.

The premise of this section will clarify why I decided to split Part 2 into a & b and I hope you like the idea.

Again, I thank SlaveGirl70 and LunarSirius for their assistance with editing and tweaking.


*****

It was just coming up to midday when I turned the key and opened the front door.

"Hi Dad! You Home?" I called out, but there was no answer. Strange, I thought, as the car was in the driveway. Perhaps he was in the back garden. I walked down the hall and through the kitchen, opened the back door and stepped out onto the patio and called out again, "Dad?" Still no reply, and the shed door was locked up tight, so he wasn't in there either. Never mind, I'll just get the suitcase I came for and leave. He probably wouldn't even notice I've been here.

I returned to the kitchen, closed the back door and headed upstairs to the main bedroom where Mum had said the suitcase was stored in the bottom of the wardrobe. As I entered the bedroom, I spotted Mum tied to the bed and immediately stopped dead in my tracks. "Oh my God!" I sputtered in astonishment. "Mum! What's going on? How long have you been like this?"

I moved around the bed to get a closer look and as my gaze ran up her body from the base of the bed I could see that she was wearing a pair of black stiletto court shoes, sheer black stockings which ran up just short of the hem of a black, short sleeved mini dress showing a little thigh above the lacy stocking tops. Her legs were joined by ropes just above and below the knees; her ankles were also tied together and secured to the framework of the bed.

Further up, I saw that she had been fitted with a leather posture collar, keeping her head pushed back, a full head harness with an attached red ball gag and a faux satin blindfold. Above that was a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs attaching her wrists to the frame at the head of the bed. What didn't quite add up was a lump at her crotch, her somewhat misshapen breasts, short hair and...hairy arms? Then I froze a second time. It wasn't Mum.

"What the fuck? Dad?"

"Grrmmmphh!" He replied. I surveyed the scene again, but more closely this time, taking in the whole set-up. My experience as an escort­-come-dominatrix immediately told me that this was self bondage, what with the timer, lamp, string and key. You see, for the last 2½ years I had been living in a ground floor flat near the university. I started out paying my way through school by renting myself out as a high-class escort. Apparently, I was just what men desired, according to the agency with whom I had signed. As a 5'10", slim, raven-haired beauty, both well-spoken and educated, I was able to dress elegantly to impress my dates and their friends, not only with looks but also conversation. I was in constant demand as intelligent eye candy for highly placed directors, proprietors and managers, but I stuck rigidly to the no sex rule insisted upon by the agency. An occasional snog and grope was as far as it went, but even that was only if I fancied my client.

After a year or so, I realised that many of my clientèle were partial to being submissive, precisely because of the power they wielded in their everyday lives. So I invested some of my earnings in some basic BDSM equipment. I continued with the no sex rule, but bent it slightly by interpreting it as no physical sex between client and escort. Eventually, I quit the agency and rented the basement under my flat, fitting it out as a dominatrix lair and dungeon.

Since then, between studies, I've made a small fortune, which has easily surpassed that required for university fees and living expenses. I have become quite used to the more lavish lifestyle, but of course have hidden this side of my life from my family and old friends.

Once I had fully absorbed the situation in front of me, I have to admit that a small chuckle escaped my lips. "Oh...My...God," I deliberately sounded each word and then continued in my best Dominatrix voice, "This is obviously your own little set-up. But I think we can manage a bit better than this, don't you?" I stated as I formulated a little plan in my mind. If my Dad was into bondage, then I might as well give him the benefit of my experience.

I quickly untied his feet from the framework at the foot of the bed and rolled him over. I pulled his head backwards and, as a temporary measure, tied off his ankles to the harness, which must have been quite a strain on the poor little darling's neck. He screamed into his gag, so I decided to teach him from the off that a slave only makes a noise when given permission by his or her Mistress.

I gave him three hard slaps across his buttocks, which only managed to elicit three more screams. For Christ's sake, what sort of a wimp have I got as a stepfather? Am I expected to accept that a flat hand slap through the material of a dress actually hurts? Well, if he thinks that hurts, wait till I crush his balls!

I slipped my hand under his body and up his dress and stopped for a second. Was that the unmistakable feel of rubber under his knickers? And an electric cock ring? I put my mouth right next to his ear and whispered menacingly, "Even more kinky than I first thought. You're also into rubber and buzzy toys! In any case, this new discovery certainly won't change my mind. So you'll shut up or I'll tear this off with my bare hands, you perverted little creep!" I squeezed his balls hard and dug my nails into the side of his sac.

Strange how that managed to shut him up, don't you think? But I also got the other reaction I was expecting. His penis began to harden in my hands. You can always rely on a man's dick to take control, even when you think the situation is so embarrassing that he would be expected to curl up and die. He was obviously more turned on by the BDSM treatment he was receiving than turned off by the fact that it was being administered by his stepdaughter, whom he had raised as his own from the age of 11. I have to admit a pang of conscience on my own part at this point. How might this affect our kinship? But I rationalised that as long as I kept to a strictly Mistress/Client relationship then everything should be OK. After all, it had worked before!

I chuckled again and began rhythmically compressing his penis through the rubber sheath saying, "You really are twisted, aren't you? Turned on by your own daughter? What would Mum say if she knew that?" He very soon reached a full erection and I have to admit that he certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. "Hmmm!" I continued, "It seems Mum got a good deal when she married you. She may be reasonably pleased with the quantity, but that doesn't necessarily prove ability or experience when it comes to operational requirements. I'll have to think about how I can test that aspect."

Now to continue with my little plan, I went to the chest of drawers and started searching for a belt or two. "A-Ha!" Third drawer lucky! I returned and took the key from the lamp and unlocked the handcuffs. I crossed his arms behind his back and strapped the forearms together with one of the belts. I then undid the rope from his head harness and retied his ankles to his forearms, retaining the hog-tie, but looser. To ensure he didn't wriggle off the bed and hurt himself I secured his head harness to the framework at the top of the bed with the second belt, and I used the handcuffs to tie his knee ropes to the bottom of the bed.

"I'll just collect the suitcase I came for," I said, "and then I'll be off." I took Mum's small suitcase, which I needed for a three-day city break to Paris on Wednesday, from the bottom of her wardrobe.

As I turned to leave I called back to Dad from the bedroom doorway. "I've unplugged the lamp and the 'toy' so just be a dear and lie there quietly until Mum gets home from work and finds you. I presume at that point one of two things will happen: If she doesn't know about your little hobby, then you will no doubt have an awful lot of explaining to do. But if she does know, then she'll be amused to find you here waiting for her and the only thing you'll have to explain is how you managed to so successfully tie yourself up for her pleasure."

With that I left him to sweat and worry whilst I headed home to put part two of my hastily dreamt up plan into action.

friday   13th   the   02b  

Jan 3, 2018 in femdom

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