Note: The main page for this ten-part series can be found at: Stepdaddy: Biofeedback: Main Page.


"Where have you been?"

Bethany jumped at the sound, even though she expected to be challenged as soon as she walked in late from school. Her stepfather Don always made her feel that way – on edge, vulnerable.

She didn’t answer, but instead made her way across the vestibule, heading for the stairs.

"No need to go to your room. Your mom’s not home. We can do it right here." He looked at her sternly from his seat in the family room. A ball game was on TV.

"I have homework, Don. I don’t have time for that right now."

"I’ll decide if you have time or not." He unceremoniously pushed his sweat pants and briefs down his thighs, over his knees, and to his ankles. He spread his knees casually, displaying the nearly-somnolent serpent of his forty-five year old cock, coiled in a deceptively unthreatening manner atop its trimmed salt-and-pepper pubic nest.

There was nothing novel or unfamiliar to the eighth-grader about that phallus, nor about the demand. She was by now a practiced and intimate servant to both. But on this occasion, she felt something – something almost imperceptible. She felt a tiny tremor in her tummy, and maybe somewhere else, at the presentation of her stepfather’s admittedly impressive genitalia. She wondered if it had anything to do with Doctor’s Cohen’s treatment sessions. Don, unfortunately, seemed determined to interfere with any inkling of progress on that front.

"Bets, why is this cock still dry and cold? Get over here, you know it ain’t gonna suck itself!"

Bethany sighed, dropped her book bag, and headed for the cock in question. Don thought he was amusing – he didn’t use grammar like "ain’t" in real life, only when he was trying to be funny. Unfortunately, he did call her "Bets" all the time, even when he wasn’t fucking her doggy style and taunting her with things like "You ‘Bets’ yer ass this is nice!"

She kneeled dutifully between his splayed knees and reached for the heavy prick, even as it began to uncoil of its own accord in anticipatory tumescence. The girl parted her lips as she raised the head of the now-half-erect cock to mouth.

"Hey, hold up there. I know you’re starving for it, Baby, but we’ve got time. Get those titties out for me."

With another sigh, emitted in a petulant, adolescent tone, she released the organ and with both hands unbuttoned and removed first her white blouse, and then her bra. Don continued in his long-standing practice of showing absolutely zero dissatisfaction with their junior-high size; despite their being no larger than A-cups, Bethany noted that her stepfather’s penis continued to rapidly stiffen in appreciation of their unveiling.

She knew what he liked at times like this, so she arched her breasts into his crotch and used his prick like a paintbrush, tracing the gentle swells of her underaged breasts and dragging the leaking little mouth of his prickhead across both of her pebbly, eraser-like nipples. Don smiled – or rather leered – down at her in satisfaction.

"Thaaat’s a gooood girl, Bets. Good girl!"

Bethany rolled her eyes, but there it was again. In her tummy – in her crotch – in her clit. A tingle. A twitch. A feeling that was, she had to admit, not entirely awful. Maybe even a little awesome. But only for a second, and then it was gone.

"Okay, Baby. I won’t make you wait any longer. You can have at it." This, she knew from repeated experience, was her cue to start sucking on her stepfather’s cock. She pursed her lips into a bow and slipped the tight fleshy ‘O’ around the nut of his glans. Smoothly, she continued to skin down the shaft, taking the prong deeper into her wet maw to the accompaniment of Don’s pleasured hiss. Forestalling any complaints about cheating, she now removed her hands from the cock and placed each palm against either of his inner thighs. She raised her eyes to meet his, well aware that this pleased him. She didn’t like Don, and she didn’t like doing sex-stuff with him, but she had learned that she didlike pleasing him a lot more than notpleasing him. And, as expected, this pleased him.

He met her gaze with a lust filled one of his own, a murmured "thaaat’s it", and a gentle hand reaching to stroke her hair – an inadequate harbinger of less-gentle attentions that were, as always, sure to come. But for now, it was gentle, and as she looked along the length of his is as-yet to-be-engulfed cockshaft, into his masculine face and admittedly handsome eyes, Bethany felt a momentary attraction for her despised molester. A fleeting thought of "I wouldn’t mind fucking a guy like Don, if he wasn’t Don." Again the pleasure sensation, unbidden, in her center, lasting this time for more than just a moment, but only just.

Don broke the eye contact and reached for the remote. Bethany continued to suck, now bobbing slowly along his length – all the way out to the head, and then slowly back in as far as she comfortably could – while her stepfather changed the channel. She knew what was up. Sometimes he watched her intently throughout a session. Other times he found something on TV to view, in order to accompany her services. She usually didn’t mind this – it was kind of a relief in that it depersonalized the episode, made it less about her and more "mechanical." The downside was that it usually took him a lot longer to come that way than when he was looking into her "cock-worshipping, schoolgirl face" – his words, of course, not hers. When the TV was involved, her mouth was just a wet, warm, tongue-fluttering hole, serving proxy for whoever Don choice to watch – Megyn Kelley on Fox News, Grace Park on Hawaii Five-0 on CBS, or any number of tweeny cheesecake actresses on Disney Channel….to be frank, most of the time Don chose Nickelodeon or Disney Channel for his "enhancement", which of course by now came as no surprise to the middle schooler. In fact, of late his "favorite" seemed to be Sabrina Carpenter of "Girl Meets World," but just about any of those "coming of age" programs could supply her stepfather’s "visual needs." Today was a little unusual, though, for as he set down the remote she heard the Spanish dialogue of a Telemundo novella. Bethany silently snorted – Don might enjoy her fourteen-year-old titlets, but he wasn’t opposed to big Latina tat-tas, either.

This was the point when things usually turned for the worse as far as Bethany was concerned, and today was no exception. Now Don took hold of her head with both hands, not roughly, but firmly, and began to direct her movements. He sped her up, he slowed her down, while she continued to do her best to suck, slurp, and lap at the slab driving in and out of her face. She usually hated the mere idea of this, as he turned her from an admittedly unwilling, but at least participating, fellatrix into a completely dominated, controlled, fuckhole, a mere mouth-and-throat sheath meant only to serve the pleasure of her stepfather’s selfish, face-fucking cock. It usually seemed so degrading and unwholesome, and hence unwelcome. Oddly, today it again seemed degrading, and unwholesome. But it didn’t seem completely unwelcome. For one thing, that sensation sparked up again, as though in response to the cruel usage. That sensation in her tummy. In her crotch. Okay, she admitted, in her cunt.

That sensation – that pleasure? – passed soon enough, as Don deepened his strokes. This was the part Bethany continued to hate. Don insisted upon full cock-insertion, which was a serious problem for Bethany in that the cock in question was far too long to be accommodated by her mouth alone, or to be satisfied by only the occasional poke against the soft palate at her throat’s entrance and by the gags this still produced. No, Don insisted that every millimeter of his flesh that could even arguably be called his cock shaft – which certainly included parts of his tautened scrotum and a bit of the hairy rise surrounding his base – must get within her teenaged lips. Since her involuntary reflexes made this an impossible service for her to voluntarily deliver, the only solution as far as Don was concerned was to force her body to deliver it involuntarily.

To be fair, she knew he tried to work her up to it. He’d pull her face down onto and around his imbedded cock until he reached the depth at which her eyes would water and her throat would begin to gag, and then he’d just hold it there. He’d count slowly, "one-and-two-and three…", or he’d mutter what passed as encouragement "good girl…that’s it…good girl….", or he’d work some kind of mantra for the televised object of his attention, for instance "Sssssselena, ooooh, niiiiice." Anyway, however he chose to mark the time, usually after an eight or ten count he’d relax and she could pull back on, but not off, his cock, to catch a breath, to try to cough away the remnants of her gag reflex, and perhaps to mumble a sniffling whimper around his still-ensconced penis, before he’d pull her back down onto it again, this time deeper, and firmer, and even a little less thoughtfully than before. This process continued, as it always did, deeper each time, until Bethany "succeeded" in taking his knob past her soft palate and into her throat itself. At this point, he had no trouble pulling her down further until her lips mashed into the wiry, closely-trimmed pubic hairs at the base of his oversized adult shaft. It was hopeless to try to breathe around such an intrusion, and Bethany could only hope her stepfather would remove himself from her struggling, protesting, spasming throat before she blacked out.

He always did – well, he almost always did, and he hadseemed truly remorseful those few times she had nearly suffocated from his cock’s over-long blockage of her windpipe. Not so remorseful, of course, that he didn’t insist on returning to the session once she’d regained her bearings and her breath, but he at least seemed a bit contrite, and more careful while working her back up to full impalement.

On this intrusion, he pulled back before things got dire, and Bethany caught a breath before he inexorably pressed into her again. Once he’d achieved full deep-throat immersion, he invariably repeated it again and again until he came. This didn’t usually take too many attempts, because the very instinctual, desperate, autonomic efforts her throat made around the end of his penis in its attempt to save her life had the serendipitous effect of stimulating him rapidly to the point of massive release. Bethany knew that that moment would come soon, but she also knew that it was during that ultimate penetration that she was most in danger of harm, for one immutable law she had discovered about deep throating her stepfather was that once Don’s cock was buried to its hilt, and his over productive balls were busy pumping their product down into her belly, that cock wasn’t going anywhere until it was finished. And it might just loiter around a little longer in the afterglow, as well. But at least then it would be over.

Two deep intrusive ten counts followed. A third deep intrusion began, with its count "ooone…aaand….twoooo…aaand…." …and there it was. Bethany sensed the log in her throat reach its point of no return, felt it tense and tighten, and then sensed it shooting its roping ejaculate directly into her esophagus, towards its objective in her fourteen-year-old tummy. Some stray thought in her mind wondered what her cock-stuffed face might look like to Don as his world collapsed in orgasm, but the notion he might be looking at her was quickly disabused as she heard him hiss at the television to the rhythm of his cock’s ejaculatory pulses , "Ooooooh – you – sweet –big – titted – whore…."

-o0o-

To Bethany’s relief, Don was in the mood to make quick work of the aftermath on this occasion. He gently pulled her off his cock, and pulled up his sweat pants. Giving her hardly a look, he switched back to the game. But as she grabbed her book bag and began to make her way up the stairs, still short of breath and with blouse and bra draped over her otherwise naked shoulder, he called after her in his typical asshole fashion. "You’d better brush your teeth – your breath smells like cock!"

Later that evening, as she lay awake in bed, Bethany wondered at the curious sensations she had experienced during the day’s unpleasantness. Was it possible that Dr. Cohen’s treatments were working? She could hardly believe so. Would she even tell him about it when he asked? Probably not. No need to encourage the creep and his crazy methods.

Still, as she relived the memory, she didn’t stop her hand from sliding under her waistband in search of her tingling clitoris.

Comments

Nickname Date Feedback
Hiroko 2/28/2017 God! I am a small woman and have trouble deep-throating but I LOVE to be forced like this. I only wish I had had someone like this wicked stepfather in my life to start forcing me a lot earlier! I can't wait for more chapters.
Hiroko, then you definitely would have enjoyed growing up in Stepdaddy's household. He is an adherent of the "I'll make it fit" school of thought.

More chapters in queue, hoping to hear a little more feedback on this one before continuing.
--SD
Peebee 3/3/2017 Well written sexy piece of writing look forward to more.
Glad to hear from you. Methinks Bethany is looking forward to more, too.
--SD
Anonymous 3/7/2017 What is totally entrancing about this series is the Prologue! And the anticipation of the delights yet to come over the series. Plus Stepdaddy's skill in switching viewpoint between poor abused Bethany, the evil violating stepfather, creepy academic psycho- Cohen, and (just emerging) the deliciously excitable and lusting Bethany... Love it! (And of course the beautiful image - forgive me, Hiroko - of your sweet swan-like throat being forced open by a gasper-cock of such Stepfather dimensions...)
Thank you for your comments...switching viewpoints is extremely dangerous! Beginning porn scriveners must avoid it at all costs. But, with your kind encouragement, I daresay I have managed to pull it off in this tale. (pro-tip...never change viewpoints within the same scene)
--SD

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