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Admittedly, there is something primal about my desire to spank my stepdaughter. I don’t know what Christine does when she leaves the classroom, but I lock the door and go to the back corner of the lecture hall where no one can see me.
My heart races with anticipation as I unbuckle my belt and pull out my growing erection. I’ve been hard since the second I saw my stepdaughter’s bare bottom. I’ve fantasized about a moment like this since I gave her a few swats on prom night for acting like a brat. God, how I’ve wanted to take her over my knee and watch her squirm on my lap while I turn her ass a beautiful shade of maroon. But today, I finally got to live out my fantasies and capture them in HD. Too bad I don’t have a copy of the video.
I spit on my hand, using it to lube up my thick, unyielding eight inches. A droplet of pre-cum trembles on my tip, providing a warm lubricant that allows me to glide effortlessly up and down the hard length of my shaft as I think about what transpired between Christine and me.
Her curvy silhouette splayed invitingly across the expanse of my desk. Her creamy white skin beneath my hands, flushed with arousal and soft as velveteen against my rough palms. Her plump bottom lifting towards me, the sweet pink bud nestled between her cheeks quivering each time my palm made contact with her ass. Her muffled moans each time my hand landed on her skin, leaving a pink mark in its wake.
The memory of her writhing in uninhibited ecstasy and pain, every inch of her exposed and offered up without reservation, acts like fuel to the fire already raging within me. My breath hitches as my thoughts turn to the humiliation she must have felt from the powerless position she was in. Every stroke of my cock electrifies my senses as I commit to memory the sound of her moans when she sucked her lower lip to keep from crying out.
I focus on our forbidden moment, vivid images filling my head as sensation after sensation floods my hippocampus. I recall the shades of fear and desire in her eyes when she looked at me, vulnerable yet aroused, excited by what was happening even though she knew it was wrong. It’s our taboo game of house where daddy punishes his little girl for doing something bad before he makes it all feel better by burying his cock inside of her until she screams.
It doesn’t take long for pleasure to mount—raw and unabashed. Fast, shallow breaths come quicker than I want them to. In the quiet room, with just my memories and hands to keep me entertained, I feel myself rushing toward climax. I want to hold off, make it last longer, but a clenching sensation radiates from deep within me, and I know I can’t hold out any longer.
I grip myself tighter, each downward stroke pulling another groan from my lips until I explode with a wave of ecstasy thatobliterates all thought. I shoot my load at the back of the chair in front of me, coating its enamel in my milky white seed.
God, I should have let Christine’s uncles take her after Caterina’s death. If I had, I wouldn’t have spent another three years watching her grow into a beautiful, strong-willed woman. I wouldn’t have fallen for her in the quiet moments of our togetherness. I wouldn’t have her in my Psychology 101 class, taunting me with knowing looks and teasing winks. And I wouldn’t have to clean my jizz off the seat with some wet wipes before the next hour of students arrive.
But who am I kidding? My grip on Christine was as unyielding back then as it is now. She may not understand the depths of my feelings for her, but there is no denying that I will never give her up. There is no escaping me.
Christine Lucatello is mine.
She is my stepdaughter.
She is my sweetest little girl.
She is my future wife.
Chapter 14
Christine
If I had a dollar for every time Niccolo Terlizzi pissed me off, I’d be a millionaire. I could buy him out of the house that he torments me in and put his ass on the street where he couldn’t get to me. He’d regret ever agreeing to marry my mother all those years ago. He’d rue the day he told my uncles he was keeping me in Manhattan instead of sending me with them to start my life over in Kansas City.
Niccolo disgusts me with his actions and words. Yet, there is an undeniable pull towards him I can’t seem to resist. A constant battle between my repulsion and the intense longing he ignites within me. How can I stay away from someone who simultaneously repels and entices me?
Iregret pulling my phone out to film him as if a camera would change his behavior. He took my idea and twisted it into something perverse. I wanted to use the phone as a shield against his actions, but he turned it around and made it into something dirty.
And I rewatch the video we made every day when I’m alone.
It’s a poorly shot soft-core porno. The camera shakes, and the quality leaves much to be desired. But it doesn’t need to be in 4K for me to see my alabaster skin turn a deep shade of red under his touch. Even with his hands shaking, the arch of my back in pleasure is noticeable. Anyone who watches this video would see a woman enjoying herself instead of a woman under duress. I can’t show it to Human Resources; I can’t show it to anyone.
The worst part is how much rewatching the video turns me on, and I can only do it when Kaye is gone. When she’s in one of her many classes or going to Manhattan to work at her stepfather’s law firm, I hole up in my dorm and let the video play.
Shame and humiliation wash over me with every second of the video I consume. I can’t see Niccolo’s stern gaze, but I can hear the taunting in his tone. I play the forbidden moment we shared on loop until involuntary sighs escape my lips, and I have to bury myself under the blanket to hide my debasement from the world. Then my hand sneaks between my thighs and dips under the hem of my shorts, and my self-degradation continues.
The incriminating video flickers across my phone screen while I drag my fingers through my slit, growing hot with anticipation. My breath quickens, and my legs tremble as I stroke myself faster and faster, desperate for the pleasure that comes from fantasizing that I’m back in Niccolo’s office. The rhythm is instinctual—faster, then slow, deep, then shallow—an erotic symphony conducted by my filthy desires. I can’t recreate how I felt after my stepfather spanked me, but I repeat this shameful ritual every day.
Then I have to go to class three times a week and see Niccolo’s smug face, smiling, begging for me to disrespect him again. He wants me to give him another opportunity to upend me over his desk and do what he wants to me. He walks around the roomwith a superior air that makes me want to get out of my seat and smack the grin off his face. Niccolo takes great satisfaction from watching me squirm under his gaze. Every movement, every action, is a reminder that he knows how I felt after he released me that day. And I hate him for it.
Sienna, whom I’ve come around to befriending, waits for me after class one day to ask if everything is okay. “You’ve been off lately,” she says with a shrug. “You pregnant or something? Dealing drugs? Do I need to get you into rehab?” She’s just as wild as the first day I met her.
But I can’t admit what happened between Niccolo and me. I can’t admit the truth for fear of judgment. So, I tell her a version of the truth amenable to an average person’s conscience.
“After class the other day, Niccolo chastised me for being disruptive. He said if I did it again, he’d kick me off the roster and make me start over next semester.” It’s a lie, but it does the trick. She believes me without question, then swears she’ll never talk to me again.
“During class hours, of course,” she amends with a grin. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble. I didn’t realize he was such a hard ass. No offense,” Sienna quickly adds, remembering he’s my stepfather.
“None taken,” I reassure her. I’ve called Niccolo much worse. “It’s not your fault that he’s crazy. Kaye and I call him Professor Asshole for a reason. Ever since he started at Blackmore, he’s been acting like a dick.”
