Chapter 2

Dinner was surprisingly normal.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected. Maybe for my wife to come home and immediately realize that I had been screwing my stepdaughter all afternoon. Maybe for her to notice that something was different about me: that I had a silent, unspoken air of confidence or something.

But no, Barbara clicked into the house on her high heels — late, she’d been working late a lot recently — wearing her tight little pencil skirt and cream-colored blouse, looking like a million bucks but hardly giving her husband a glance.

In between our second and third fuck, McKenzie and I had teamed up to make the meal. Spaghetti and meatballs, the kind of food you can’t mess up even when one of you is exhausted and the other has just been fucked out of her slutty little mind. It was the first time I’d made dinner in a while, usually when Barb wasn’t home I just had cereal or made something in the microwave and was plopped down in front of my laptop watching TV by the time she got back to the house.

The gesture was lost on her.

As usual, dinner conversation consisted almost entirely of the girls talking while I sat there and chewed my food in silence. Today, though, for the first time in weeks, I didn’t mind. I didn’t sit there stewing, waiting for my wife to chat with her stepdaughter about her day and never ask me about mine. I didn’t glower at the back of Barb’s head when she wasn’t looking only to beam silently at her when she deigned to glance my way. I felt beyond that, only now realizing how small and petty my old concerns had been.

I am the Man, the Master of this house. The Man of the House doesn’t concern himself with the gossip of his women.

Honestly? I thought, cutting a meatball in half and forking a piece into my mouth, Barbara was right to treat me that way. I was a mediocre man. I didn’t act in a way deserving of respect, so why should she have given it to me?

It wasn’t until the meal was almost finished that my second wife glanced my way and said, “John, dear, can you come up after you do the dishes? I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

My stomach dropped, and the confidence that I’d been feeling the entire evening seemed to melt away as I reverted instinctively to old habits. What happened? I worried. Did she see something? Does she suspect something? What have I done wrong? I smiled wanly and nodded. “Of course, darling. I’ll be right up.”

Barbara nodded and wiped her mouth with her napkin as she pushed back from the table.

My eyes locked for a moment on her full, luscious lips, and then flickered back up to her cool blue eyes. I watched as she stood, dropped her napkin carelessly on the table, and then strode from the dining room. Her legs looked miles long in those heels and the casually sexual sway of her hips in that pencil skirt...

I realized I had been staring blatantly at her ass and glanced nervously at my stepdaughter. I was worried. What if she stops listening to me as soon as she realizes my confidence is a fraud? I wondered.

McKenzie was watching me, a playful glint in her hazel eyes and her teeth biting at her bottom lip. Her eyes were wide and innocent as she stood from her chair, tucking a stray hair behind one ear. She was wearing a skirt too, a wonderfully short one that bared plenty of thigh, and she played with the hem as she circled around the table.

We could hear her mother going up the stairs in the background — click, click, click in those heels — as she sat on the corner of the table with one leg dangling nonchalantly. She cupped my cheek with a small hand, gave me a look that was almost tender, then leaned in and kissed me full on the mouth.

My fears evaporated as I sank into the kiss. Yes, a deep, masculine voice sounded from the depths of my mind. Good. The worries I’d had with Barbara vanished, replaced by the realization that all I truly needed was a new set of mental frameworks to replace the ones I’d been using for years.

My stepdaughter’s mouth was still only inches from mine as she pulled back long enough to whisper, “Don’t worry about her, Daddy. I know you’ll remind her who’s the master of the house. Just like you reminded me...”

Then, I took control.

McKenzie gasped into my lips as I pushed back from the table and stood, my hands clasping her slim waist and pulling her closer. She slid off the table and onto her tiptoes and my fingers were up under that slutty little skirt, kneading her supple young ass and making her moan wantonly into my mouth.

I could feel myself getting hard as she ground up against me, her hands on my arms and shoulders and back and her perky teenaged tits pressed to my chest. But I pulled back. Something I have to do first. “Now,” I ordered, rolling my shoulders back and fixing her with a commanding stare. I could practically sense my stepdaughter getting wet as I pinned her in place with my dark brown eyes and my hands on her curvy young hips. “You’re going to clean up from dinner.”

McKenzie’s eyes fluttered down submissively. “Yes, Daddy...” she murmured, her voice soft.

“And then,” I continued, “when I’m done with your mother, I’m going to come back down here and ... check your work.”

A little smile touched McKenzie’s lips, pulling them up at the corners. Her glance up into my face caught my confident smirk and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I told her. I leaned in swiftly for another peck on the lips before striding out of the room and up the stairs. I took them two at a time, self-assurance thrumming through me once again.

You are in control. You are an Alpha Male. You are the Man of the House.

Barbara was in the bathroom taking off her makeup when I came in. She didn’t spare a glance my way as I walked in and sat on the edge of the bed closest her, my fingers entwined and hanging between my thighs as I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees.

“So,” I said, taking a moment first to let my eyes wander down her curvy figure. “What did you want to talk about?”

My wife didn’t respond at first, wiping at her face with a moist towelette, but I didn’t feel the need to press. I could be patient. This was a waiting game. I hadn’t realized, before, how much of our relationship was made up of dominance games like this one. I suppose, I thought pensively, that that’s why I always used to lose.

“Do you know what ‘BDE’ stands for?” Barbara asked suddenly, turning to shoot me a look with those big blue eyes of hers. She was trying to surprise me, to put me on my heels, but instead I furrowed my eyebrows and treated her to a look of consternation.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“This afternoon at work I got a text from McKenzie.” My wife glanced in the mirror then tossed her used towelette to the counter and strode back into the bedroom. “She brought a package inside from the front step. It had your name on it and the label ‘BDE: Reprogram Yourself for Victory.’” She raised one sculpted eyebrow at me. “I assume you know what I’m talking about now?”

I nodded slowly, forcing myself to bear up under her icy stare. It was harder than I had anticipated. My habitual reaction was to simply fold up and try to give my wife whatever she wanted. “I do.”

“And do you also know what ‘BDE’ stands for?”

I spread my hands. “Brain Development Enterprises?” I answered. “It’s the name of the company.”

Barbara shook her head and made a noise of disgust. “Honestly, John. It stands for big dick energy. What on Earth would that kind of package have inside of it? As your wife, I find this whole thing strange and a little disturbing.”

I frowned. Somewhere behind my forehead a voice rumbled quietly.

Your word is Law. Your desire is Law. Your household exists for your pleasure. Your women exist for your pleasure.

I stood now, the frown deepening. “I got passed up for a big promotion at work recently, in case you didn’t even notice or remember,” I told her, my voice tainted with frustration. The words flowed easily from my lips. After all, my lie had a basis in truth. “I took a big hit to my confidence, so when I saw an ad for a series of self-hypnosis recordings to build up self-confidence and positive thinking I bought them. I thought that if I could be bolder at the office then maybe it wouldn’t happen again. Instead, my wife arrives home and calls me ‘strange and disturbing?’ Can’t you just support my desire to improve?”

Barbara seemed taken aback by my outburst, her eyebrows coming together in a thoughtful frown of her own. For a moment, it seemed like she would cave, apologize for being so abrasive or tell me that she did support me, after all.

Then, I watched as the moment passed her by.

Instead, she shook her head at me and sighed with exasperation. “Really, John? Don’t you know that hypnosis doesn’t work?” She turned and walked back into the bathroom, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of her blouse. “I’m going to take a shower,” she told me as she closed the door. “When I get out, we can go to sleep and pretend like this little tizzy never happened.” The door clicked shut and then I heard the sound of the lock.

Guess she wants some alone time, I grumbled silently. I sat down for a moment on the bed, elbows on my knees and fingers rubbing my eyes.

I was tired. Tired of dealing with this kind of treatment. I wondered, for the first time, whether my lack of confidence at work might be rooted in my home life. Wouldn’t be surprised, I mused. It was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes and I finally saw the treatment I’d been getting every day for months, if not years. But I shook my head and took a deep breath, forcing a grin onto my face as I stood. Even the act of smiling made me feel a little better. I snorted out a laugh and shook my head, dispelling the negative mood. You’ve got better things to do than worry about her, I told myself.

Barbara took the longest showers known to man, and I had a sexy little teen downstairs who was practically begging for her stepfather’s long, hard cock.

I rolled my eyes in the direction of the bathroom, squared my shoulders and headed out the door. “McKenzie,” I called. “I hope you’re ready down there!”

My 18-year-old stepdaughter was waiting for me when I came into the kitchen.

I froze in the doorway, my eyes widening. “Hello, angel,” I murmured softly after a moment, my fingers tugging at the hem of my tee-shirt and pulling it up over my head.

The table was cleared of dishes and wiped clean of crumbs. The sink was empty, and the dishwasher was running. McKenzie herself had hopped up onto the kitchen counter, lifted her skirt and was languidly playing with her cleanly shaven pussy. “Hello, Daddy...” she purred across the room. Two fingers slid slowly in and out of her tight entrance, her thumb circling her clit. “I’m ready for you.”

I could feel myself growing harder as I stalked toward her, my heartbeat thudding in my ears and blood rushing south. There was a taut energy between us that slowly tightened as I drew nearer. I watched McKenzie’s pupils dilate as I approached, her breath growing faster and faster as her hands began to speed up their work.

She licked her lips. “Do you like what you see, sir?” my stepdaughter asked.

I knew she was asking about herself and not about the cleanliness of the kitchen, but I paused for a moment and pretended to survey her work. I shrugged noncommittally, taking a step closer and allowing my dark gaze to pierce her lighter one. “Passable.”

She was panting now, and I hadn’t even touched her. “I guess you’ll have to punish me again,” she murmured. Her voice was half nervous, half hopeful.

I stepped before her and stopped. The balled-up tee shirt in my fist hit the floor. “I think I’ll let it slide this time.”

Her hands were on my shoulders as her feet hit the floor, and I was pushing her back against the counter with my palms on her hips. My growing erection throbbed against her stomach as I bent my head and kissed her, hard. Her now familiar scent filled my nose — coconut and vanilla — and did strange things to my stomach, twisting and knotting and unknotting, things that no daughter should ever do to her father. My fumbling fingers found the waistband of her skirt and tugged at it desperately. Luckily it was elastic, easy to tear from her lithe young body.

McKenzie shimmied clear of the skirt as it fell past her knees and onto the tile, kicking it away so it slid across the floor. She was dripping wet and I could feel the heat of her burning need like a furnace on my fingers. One of my hands rose to cup the back of her head and the other dropped between her long legs to cup her pussy, a finger gently sliding across her slick entrance and circling her clit.

My stepdaughter’s head dropped back, her breath fast and short. Her eyes were wide and hazy with arousal, barely able to focus. “Please, Daddy...” she begged. “I’m so ready for you...” Her own hands trailed down my shoulders and arms, then one went behind my neck while the other tugged desperately at the cloth of my sweatpants. I’d slung the loose gray sweats on before we’d come downstairs for dinner, realizing at some point that easy access was more important than style.

My thumb flicked across her pleasure button now as my index finger slid slowly inside of her. “Are you, baby girl?” I asked gently, my own breath harsh in my mouth. “Are you really ready for me?” I could taste my need, almost metallic, mingling with the taste of her kisses in a heady cocktail on my tongue. My finger eased back and then inside of her again.

She trembled under my touch, nodding. Her eyes had fallen half-closed.

I leaned in and kissed her neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex as I kissed up her throat to her jawline. I let my teeth tug at her earlobe and whispered, “Ready for anything I want?”

McKenzie was practically entranced, drunk on her own need. Whatever drugs had been in my cologne had done something to her. She could barely think straight around me, could barely form a coherent thought except to obey and to please. “Anything...” she moaned softly. “Please...” Her fingers slid beneath my waistband, but I shifted back and out of reach.

I wasn’t done yet. I realized, then, that I was filled with anger: anger at my wife who hadn’t yet learned to treat me with the respect I deserved, anger at the stepdaughter who, until today, had treated me like an ATM and her personal cleanup crew.

You are the provider. You are the protector. You are the Alpha. You are the Master.

“You’re mine,” I told her, my words like seeds planted in the fertile soil of her mind. “Say it...”

“I’m yours...” McKenzie gasped, her voice high and wanton.

“You’ll do anything I wish.”

“Anything you wish...”

“Because I own you.”

“You own me, sir.” Her fingers were on my chest, around my neck, in my hair.

“Your body belongs to me.” The words flowed from my lips like a righteous sermon, reminding her who she was and who she needed to be.

“My body belongs to you...”

“Your tits belong to me.” I pulled back and grabbed the tube top she was wearing, pulling it swiftly up over her head. Her round, bouncy breasts tumbled free. My tongue swirled around one of her dark, hard nipples.

“My tits belong to you...” she gasped, back arching so I could bury my face in her cleavage.

I pulled back and my hands circled around her hips. “Your ass belongs to me.” I massaged the twin hemispheres.

“My ass belongs to you...”

“Your sweet little slutty mouth belongs to me.”

She punctuated each word with a searing kiss. “My sweet ... little ... slutty mouth ... belongs to you...”

I was breathless, but on a roll. “You can’t say no to me.”

“I can’t say no to you...”

“You don’t want to say no to me.”

“I don’t want to say no to you...”

“You’ll suck my cock anytime I want.” My cock throbbed as the words tumbled drunkenly from my mouth. I was drunk on my own power, on the need that pounded in my temples.

McKenzie leaned forward, whispering in my ear as her hand dove into my sweats. “I’ll suck your cock anytime you want, Daddy...”

“You’ll fuck me anytime I want.”

“I’ll fuck you anytime you want...” Her slim fingers wrapped around my shaft.

“You live to please me.”

“I live to please you...” She began to stroke me.

“You’re my hot little teenage slut.”

“I’m your hot little teenage slut...” Forward and back. Forward and back.

“You’re my sweet, cute girl next door...”

“I’m your sweet, cute girl next door...”

“You’re my sexy bimbo cheerleader...”

“I’m your sexy bimbo cheerleader...” McKenzie gasped in surprise as my hands gripped her hips and lifted her up, setting her back down on the counter.

“You’re mine, always and forever.” My sweats were loose around my hips and I shoved them down, my pulsing cock springing free, red and needy.

My stepdaughter stared into my eyes. “Always and forever...”

I thrust, sliding up inside of her with a grunt of primal pleasure.

McKenzie moaned and kissed me, her mouth hot and her kisses desperate.

I thrust again, bottoming out inside of her. My entire body felt as electrified as a live wire, like a bomb set to go off at any moment. For a split second I started to wonder, What if my wife— and then I thrust a third time and the tight, welcoming heat of my daughter’s body wiped the worry from my mind.

The sexy teen pulled back, her hands on my shoulders and then dropped once again to the tiled floor on bare feet.

I started to protest, but she just turned around and bent over, offering herself up once again for my pleasure. She glanced over her shoulder, hazel eyes big and begging...

“Take me, Daddy...” she whispered.

I did. I lined up and powered inside her cunt, her cry of pleasure muffled as she clamped a hand over her own mouth. My hands slid up her flat stomach and cupped her breasts, tweaking her nipples as I hammered into her pussy over and over.

I wouldn’t last long at this rate, the intensity and heat of the moment stronger even than what we’d done this afternoon. This was better than sex. This was power, and I could feel it pounding in my head with every thrust of my hips.

McKenzie clutched at the counter with one hand as her legs wobbled, her hair in disarray. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned into her fingers. Then she was over the edge, her head dropping forwards and her body spasming as she came all over my pumping length.