Her Baggage Delivered

by Midsummerman

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Coercion, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Slavery, Fiction, BDSM, FemaleDom, Humiliation, Light Bond, Analingus, Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Sex Story: Troy's day begins badly when his girlfriend dumps him; it gets worse when his stepmother seizes the moment to commence a plan she's had for him for some time, her mind full of admiration for the girl who's put him closer to the place she needs him to be in. Troy learns of the true fate of his departed father, and is shown he has more in common with him than he ever knew - courtesy of some very independent female friends of his stepmother, educating him to his true purpose in life.

Troy was distraught when Lisa ditched him; he’’d not known her that long, but had visions of grandeur over their budding relationship, and had masturbated daily over the thought of her allowing him to bed her. Now, here at the mall, and in front of several of her smiling female friends, she had taken a curt pleasure in dismissing him.

“You’re just not up to my standards ... your car’s O.K. but you’re cramping my style ... it’s over.” She left him crestfallen, and strutted confidently away on her heels, her friends giggling and glancing back with smug smiles as he stood, cut down, and discarded like the used coffee cups which rolled in circles between the shop-fronts. He trudged back to the parking area and drove his car home, glancing wistfully at the empty passenger seat. He felt such a fool, and mulled over their last evening together at one of the bars in town, one of those few which were not so scrutinous about age, and was frequented by youthful people; he realised now she’d been a little off with him, and her eyes were elsewhere - he should have known, and now he knew. His eyes welled up, and he fought back his hurt.

He pulled up outside the house where he lived alone with his stepmother, went in, and sat long faced in a chair, staring at the wall. His stepmother, Marcia Hayes was a confident and independent woman who had inherited Troy as baggage when he was five years old; his birth mother had divorced his father a year earlier, citing adultery, and had departed with his younger sister, never to be seen again and leaving Troy with his father. The boy did not suffer any feelings of loss, as he was constantly in the care of nannies and nurses employed at the home, his mother just another person who inhabited the house in his young eyes - he was equally distant and unattached to his father too, as he was farmed out to boarding schools when not in the care of those domestic assistants. Marcia had told him that his father had died when he was just eight years old, though Troy could not recall ever attending a funeral; he had certainly not been made aware of any grave or memorial, though neither could he remember a time before just he and his stepmother lived at the house.

Marcia was checking her shape in the bedroom mirror, snapping a black stocking to her garter belt, then smiling into the reflection with satisfaction as she added a little more red lipstick when she heard Troy arrive. She’d not expected him home this early, and grinned as she guessed on a probable reason for his arrival. She adjusted the black pencil skirt she’d chosen to wear, stepped into her stilettos, and lifted her nose at the mirror as she passed it; she would be as matriarchal with him as ever, though he was now of an age whereby it was time he learned his true purpose in life, and would shortly be put to good use as was his father. Proud of the body she had kept in superb shape despite her years, she sauntered down the stairs displaying the provocative wiggle of her firm and rounded arse, which had captivated so many men whom Troy had no knowledge of.

She received a knowing glance from Beatrice, one of the more mature maids who was leaving the lounge after offering the despondent young man a coffee, which he’d gratefully refused, and returned the look with a smile as she entered the room. Troy didn’t hear her enter, but was made aware of her presence by the waft of seductively sweet scent she used, lifting his head sheepishly to face her. She crossed her arms and avoided asking him directly about the sad face, wanting to hear him make some effort in offering an explanation.

“You’re back early, I wasn’t expecting you till much later.” Troy’s sadness was, begrudgingly lifted in part, the fact that she hadn’t asked why he looked so lost made him a little indignant, so he tried to broach it as though he didn’t care.

“Oh ... err ... things didn’t go to plan, I’ve err ... finished with Lisa.” A slight smirk graced Marcia’s lips.

“You’ve finished with Lisa? ... I thought you were besotted with her, she was such a pretty and confident girl too, whatever made you change your mind?” He swallowed hard, determined not to show his stepmother any weakness in the masculine shell he tried to hide behind.

“It was ... It was her idea, not mine.” As he sat back and took a deep breath, looking like a child who’d had to admit to a prank, Marcia had to stop herself from letting out a contemptuous laugh. ‘Good girl!’ she thought to herself - as meek as he was, he was in need of being shown his place, and this incident would play him right into her hands.

“Oh ... so she dumped you ... maybe she was a little too bold for you anyhow.” Troy glared at her momentarily, before coming to his senses, though her smile told him that she had nothing but admiration for the girl; he’d been put in his place by her, and she wished she’d been there to witness it.

“You’re so like your father, he needed strong women to take control of him, and it took him a while to get just what he wanted ... when I wanted it.” Troy felt a peculiar tingling at her words, the emphasis she put on ‘I’ gave him a strangely sexual excitement, and the likening of him to his father whom she’d belittled was somehow curiously attractive. Her grin remained as she continued.

“That car of yours was expensive, and being as you don’t have anything else to do now that you’ve been jettisoned at the whim of a girl, you’ll come with me to a friend’s house - she’ll have some chores that need doing. I was going to have you there next week anyhow, it’s high time you had some purpose in life, and I know you’ll learn to enjoy the company.” Troy was both puzzled by this approach from a woman who he’d thought had seen him as no more than part of the furniture, and perplexed by his own feeling of obedience to what she asked. She clicked her fingers, and the tingling continued as she led him to her car.

Troy’s mood was now diverted from one of immature grief at his put down by a girl he felt so potently about, to one of an uncomfortable anxiety about an unknown situation - and the fact that it was something his stepmother had apparently long pre-planned for him. He squirmed a little in the seat as she drove the car off the freeway down to an area close to the coast known for expensive properties.

“So ... what sort of chores am I expected to do? ... I’ve ever been that good at err ... practical things.” Marcia just continued her fixed smile, then swept her tongue slowly across her lips; he could see her easing into a distinctly decadent mode, the way he’d seen her on those rare occasions at home when she’d had a few drinks with friends and he’d viewed her covertly through a gap in a door.

“Oh, you’ll see when we get there, and you’ll soon learn to do things correctly ... just as you’re told. There’ll be several women there who’ll be more than glad to see you, and have you show them how courteous you can be ... you’ll soon forget that unsophisticated Lisa, believe me.” Troy repositioned his legs on feeling his cock erect; she may have been talking about basket weaving or potting dahlias, but the mischief in her tone told him something a little more risque awaited him. Her smug look of satisfaction broadened as they drove through tall iron gates which opened automatically, up to a huge mansion-like house, and he was led up marble steps to an ornate art-nouveau door. Marcia rang the bell, and Troys eyes were drawn to a figure distorted through the coloured glass, approaching from within. He turned to Marcia.

“Look ... I ... I’m not sure about this.” Marcia turned to him with a curt smile and closed her eyes, emphasising her words were final.

“Well I am ... you’ll do just as you’re told ... just like your father did.” Troy was left agape as the door opened and a severe looking middle-aged maid in black gave a warm smile to Marcia.

“Hello Ms Hayes, do come in.” Her smile edged a sneer as sharp eyes surveyed Troy.

“Oh this is a surprise, Ms Dominique will be more than pleased with your company.” She led them to a comfortable high-ceilinged lounge, then went to fetch the hostess. Troy twitched uncomfortably in the chair he’d been sat in, as footsteps announced the approach of feminine feet. The maid entered first and stood with her arms crossed near the door, smiling and looking Troy up and down admiringly, then Troy’s cock eased to an unwanted erection as Dominique entered. Dressed in just a tight black swimming costume with a black lace veil about her shoulders, her mature and shapely figure was expressed unashamedly, each contour of her full figure hidden only by skin tight material. Perched on stilettos, her long and graceful legs led up to a graceful camel toe and nipples poking in her excitement at the prospect of a soft male to mentor. The maid barked at troy, waving her finger.

“Stand!” Marcia grinned with satisfaction as Troy rose to his feet without any sign of indignation, the bulge at his crotch bringing smiles from all three women. Marcia crossed her legs and grinned at Dominique.

.... There is more of this story ...

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