Stepdaddy Discipline 04

Cathy stayed for dinner. Watching her leaning in towards Dan as she spoke, touching his arm, tossing her hair back occasionally was disconcerting.

Leslie was willing to ignore Dan's past in the interest of harmony, but the past was clearly not going to ignore her. She felt insecure, that her relationship with daddy could change; and confused that Cathy had kissed her, however briefly, and she had not pulled away.

The last solitary ray of late afternoon sunshine caught Cathy's hair, framing her face in a warm glow. Every man would desire her; daddy already had; and she was subtly flirting with each touch, each laugh, each nuanced innuendo, each wide-eyed exclamation. Leslie felt dowdy in comparison.

"This has been wonderful. Marvellous seeing you again, Dan. And Leslie, you must let me take you shopping to thank you for dinner. We'll make it a girls day out. Just you and me. What do you say?"

Leslie glanced at Dan, intending to decline; but he gave a smile and a half nod, and it was clear that he would expect her to accept. She smiled, feeling certain that it must appear false. " Thank you, Cathy. That sounds wonderful."

"We'll go on Monday, then", responded the older woman, with a glint in her eye, squeezing Cathy's hand.

Before she left there was a moment when the women were alone. Cathy leaned towards her conspiratorially. "Anyone with eyes can tell that there's more to your relationship with Dan than stepfather and daughter." Leslie pulled back in shock, but Cathy reached across and squeezed her hand. "I told you earlier, I'm not here to upset anything. I'm not your rival, I promise you. Think of me as an older sister, really. I have done enough in my past to not judge, believe me." She paused and smiled. "He does give a strong spanking though, doesn't he? Your mother and I had to soothe each other's bottoms more than once."

Leslie pulled her hand away, glancing around to ensure daddy was not within earshot. Cathy was clearly exploring how far she could lead Leslie, and this was wholly inappropriate. Before she could respond Cathy held a finger over her lips. "Our little secret, remember?" And then Dan entered the room and the moment was gone.

Leslie no longer felt she could ignore the circumstance, and when Cathy had left, and she was alone with her daddy she went straight to the heart of the matter. "You slept with her, didn't you? With Cathy."

Dan paused before answering. "Aye. But it was a long time ago, and it wasn't as you think. Your mother knew all about it. She wasn't hurt by any of it."

"Because she was also sleeping with Cathy, wasn't she?"

"I told you, it was a different time. Tread lightly my girl. I don't have to explain what was happening with your mother."

"Is that what you expect from me? To sleep with women for your entertainment?"

He was trying to be patient, but it was slipping away from him. "I expect you to be who you are. I have never asked anything more from you."

Tears were just under the surface. "She's a SLUT! You made mommy sleep with a SLUT!" She turned and stormed out of the room, announcing her anger with a slammed bedroom door.

Dan felt disappointment washing over him. It had been wonderful to see Cathy again. She was as beautiful and sexy as always, but perhaps Cathy's jealousy was to be expected: she was still a child in many ways.

After an hour of silence in the house her door opened and she came into the room, standing facing him from the doorway. "I'm sorry, daddy. I shouldn't have shouted."

"Aye. I won't make excuses for what your mother and I did. You understand me?"

She nodded, chastened.

"Good." He sat back, examining her, Leslie standing with her eyes lowered, looking for all the world like a schoolgirl awaiting punishment. And punish her he would: he had never tolerated bad behaviour before and he wasn't going to begin now. "Take off your clothes", he said softly, menacingly.

The instruction startled the woman. "What did you say, daddy?"

"You heard me. Do as I say. Clothes off."

Daddy had spanked her before, but there was something different in his apparent anger. It made her nervous; she stood motionless in her indecision.

"NOW!"

Hands trembling she began to disrobe, feeling strangely naked as she did so. Daddy had seen her nude repeatedly, fucked her for heavens sake, but this was different. This was cold, calculating. She stood, eventually, one arm across her breasts, her other hand hiding her pussy, shoulders and head lowered in embarrassment, clothes lying in a puddle on the floor.

"Stand up straight, girl. And put your hands on your head. Feet apart." Her face was flushed in humiliation now, realising she was an object for his cruel manipulation, as she followed his directives. "Look at me!"

She lifted her eyes, and realised with horror that he was holding his phone up, either taking pictures or video, adding to his disgusting collection. "No daddy!", she exclaimed, trying to cover herself again.

"If you want things to be alright you'll do as I say!"

And so she stood again, trembling as he took his time filming her anguish. "Now on your knees girl. Come to me on hands and knees." She crawled across the room in shame, trying to hide her face from the camera, until she was before him.

He parted his legs. "How do you apologise properly to daddy?" She crawled closer, came up onto her knees, unzipped his trousers, reached in and took out his flaccid penis, drawing it into her mouth, suckling gently.

"Look at me. We can't have you hiding your face, can we?" She raised her eyes, and sucked his hardening cock on camera, his free hand in her hair, controlling her actions. "Say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry, daddy", softly between sucking and licking.

"Cathy was your mother's oldest friend. What we did was our thing, together. Not to be insulted, or requiring explanation." His breathing had changed, his manhood becoming hard and angry in her mouth.

He suddenly set his phone aside, took her by the arm, stood and dragged her to the table, pushing her face down. He spanked her bottom aggressively, hard handfuls that rang out through the house, as she squealed at each blow. "You'll not treat her with disrespect!", he bellowed, punctuating each word with a spank, until he moved behind her and penetrated her cunt with his now rock hard cock, angry, forceful fucks so that she gasped, overcome at the ferocity of his assault, excited herself by this domination, panting, legs splayed and jerking, until the sudden warmth of his seed inside her caused her to orgasm instinctively, her pussy contracting uncontrollably, and they both groaned together.

Afterwards, still naked, she curled up on daddy's lap, her face in his shoulder. His one hand gently soothing her stinging backside. She felt perversely content: daddy still wanted her, Cathy wasn't a threat. Even her awareness at her lack of agency in this relationship didn't matter for the moment: she would do as daddy expected, as usual.

Dan closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of the settee. Seeing Cathy again had brought back so many memories. Cathy and Maureen bent over the table, making them kiss while he spanked and fucked then both, making them share his cock on their knees. He missed that. Fucking Leslie on her own, as pleasant as it was (and he loved seeing her squeal under his hand) wasn't the same.

Cathy arrived on Monday, as promised, just after Dan had left for work, predictably without a hair out of place, impeccably styled and in a small red open topped sports car. She drove with abandon, hands accompanying her dialogue to such a degree that the car was occasionally on auto pilot and Leslie pressed down on an imaginary brake pedal and had to withhold herself from grabbing the wheel.

Their first stop was for breakfast at an open air cafe where the restaurateur greeted Cathy by name and without instruction provided a tray of various fresh breads, meats, cheeses and jams, accompanied on the side by exotic sweetmeats and pastries. It was indulgent and delightful, selecting different mouthfuls of wonderful treats.

"I love shopping", Cathy stated frankly, sipping what appeared to be sparkling grape juice, but could as easily be champagne. "And I love shopping for others. This really is a treat for me."

Leslie responded shyly, "Thank you. I am on a budget though."

"I wouldn't hear of it. This is my treat, to make you look wonderful for Dan. All over."

Cathy exuded worldly sophistication which both fascinated and unnerved Leslie. The older woman touched Leslie's hand softly. "I know the revelations about your parents and I shocked you. They really kept everything from you, didn't they? The more Maureen abandoned herself to the sensual, the more she protected your innocence. It left its mark, didn't it?"

"How do you mean?" The comment stung slightly.

"I don't mean to be hurtful, sweetie. You do seem to be, well, searching still, but happy to be protected by your father. He satisfies something in you, doesn't he? Not just sexual but emotional. And I don't mean love, I mean a need for acceptance. He was always a bit of a brute on occasion - he's very self centred you know. He wants what he wants and that is very attractive in a man; but it also led your mother to explore beyond satisfying his whims. Do you see?"

"With you?"

"Well, yes, but with others as well. You've seen the pictures. At those parties we were often with many men. And women. You know, you can't imagine how exciting it is to have two or three men undressing you, being surrounded, being absurdly feminine in the midst of their lust. Or to be pressing your womanhood against that of another woman while being watched. But mostly it was your parents and I together. We lived apart, but really it was a menage a trois for the most part."

There was a brief silence. "You mustn't judge sweetie. It's not immoral if you love each other."

"You loved my mother?"

"To some extent everyone loved your mother. She embraced life with such exuberance that she fascinated us all, I think. Everyone wanted to be with her, but really she only loved Dan. He married and protected and indulged her, you see? She needed the freedom that he gave her."

"It is all so different to the mother I knew. My mother was just an ordinary mom."

"She was anything but ordinary, and she was an accomplished actress when she had to be."

"How did you know that you liked both men and women?"

Cathy laughed, with a gentle feminine evocation of humour. "If you only knew how many times I've been asked that question! Sweetie, I've always been too sexual for my own good. Even at school my heart would flutter for both the boys and girls, and I was as interested in what was under the skirts as in the trousers. When I was, oh I don't know, about 19 I suppose, I was at a local party. Everybody was dancing with everybody else, but there was this girl, I didn't even know her name, she kept dancing with me. Eventually she took my hand and led me to a dark corner. Nobody noticed I think, and I was so naive still, I just followed. Maybe I thought she wanted to talk away from the loud music, where we could hear each other. But then we were away from everyone, it was dark, and she pushed me back against a wall, not roughly, but she held me there and kissed me. She put her thigh between my legs, held my arms above my head, and heaven help me, I gave myself to it. She knew, you see. She recognised it in me. As we kissed I remember rubbing myself against her leg, until she freed her one hand, put it up my skirt, tugged my panties down and fingered me until I came."

There was a silence at the table, Cathy perhaps wondering if she had shared too much; but this revelation left Leslie slightly aroused. The wonderful setting, this beautiful woman, this erotic honesty caused Leslie to wonder how she would have reacted had it happened to her. Could she have inherited her mother's sapphic leanings? What previously seemed inconceivable was now tantalisingly flirting at the periphery of her consciousness.

For the first time she looked closely at Cathy. She was about 45, the tiniest crows feet visible around large green eyes, nose perhaps too thin, top lip slightly open, high, perfectly high cheekbones, coiffed long red hair, the subtlest makeup enhancing her beauty without overstating it. Desirable in the way that confident mature women are, using her hands again as she spoke as if every phrase needed physical embellishment, slightly breathless.

Leslie had stepped into a river and was being helplessly carried away: daddy, she knew, wanted Cathy back in his life. Cathy was flirtatious with him and, even if not actively attempting to seduce her, was causing Leslie to remember the photographs of Cathy and her mother together, kissing, undressing, licking and suckling nipples, parting legs for one another. Leslie's initial shock at those images had dissipated, replaced by an enhanced understanding of her mother, and some small insight into how it began.

Cathy took Leslie's hand in hers as they walked to the car. Leslie's instinctual response would normally have been to take it away, but she left it there, wondering what onlookers would think: not family, different ages and unlikely friends, but lovers perhaps; and yet nobody seemed to notice.

After another alarming race across town in the sportscar, Cathy led Leslie into a very upmarket store catering only to women, although Cathy was greeted immediately by her name, by a campish, impeccably thin dark man who leaned in from the waist so they could air kiss. He then turned and raised an eyebrow as he examined Leslie.

"Cathy, you absolutely naughty thing", he pronounced, raising a pointed finger up and down in the air. "Have you found another waif to play with?"

"Now, now Marcel", responded the woman. "This is Leslie, the daughter of an old friend. Treat her kindly."

He lowered the eyebrow, held out one long hand for Leslie to grasp. "Enchantée, I'm sure." Leslie took the hand; it was soft, supple; she thought immediately of the delicate gloves she had come across in her mother's drawer. "We have some work to do with this one." Leslie would discover that Marcel would talk at her, about her, to her but never actually engage in conversation: she was a task to be addressed, not a fellow traveller.

"Will it be the usual, then, my darling? Three business suits, shoes and... underwear?" He paused lasciviously before the last word, openly judging Cathy's intentions, but she was unmoved by his inference.

"Not this time, Marcel. Leslie is fortunate enough to not have to work." He pursed his lips at this comment. "But I think she does need some elegance. Two day outfits, one evening gown, shoes and yes,... underwear."

Marcel took Cathy by the hand and led her to the change rooms. He seemed to glide effortlessly across the carpeted floor, silently leading Leslie to trail in his wake, a mannequin for his amusement. He then drifted off somewhere into the store leaving the women alone. Maintaining the store's pretensions, the change room was large, almost a room, with mirrors against all of the walls, two lounging chairs and locations to hang and fold clothing. Cathy sat down and indicated to Leslie that she should do the same. "Don't mind Marcel, sweetie. He can be abrasive but that's just the defensiveness of a queen that has been bullied his entire life. And he already knows exactly what you need to wear."

And so it was. He wheeled a rack into the room with an assortment of dresses that Leslie would not normally have considered. They seemed too mature for her tastes, and she frowned as she examined each in turn. She expected Marcel to leave, but he remained motionless, finally saying to Cathy: "She must try the pink one first. It is very Jackie O, but it will suit her frame, and we have darling matching shoes." He held it out to Leslie, who took it and waited for him to leave, but he stepped back and waited.

"She doesn't seem to understand the process", he said to Cathy.

"Marcel is here to help and make sure you wear it correctly, sweetie. Don't mind him."

"We're all girls here", he commented, holding out a hand to take Leslie's discarded clothing. She cast a pleading eye at Cathy, but received an approving nod in return, and although embarrassed, she began to disrobe. Marcel, however, was involved in her doing so; he unzipped her dress, helped her step out of it, folded it carefully and laid it aside; and now she stood in her underwear before their gaze. Marcel clicked his tongue in disapproval. "We could lose some weight here. The dresses would sit better." He had laid a hand on her belly as he spoke; she covered her womanhood with one hand in shame, and he rolled his eyes in unconcealed disregard for her humiliation, then held the dress for her to step into.

Leslie could not have anticipated the situation in which she now found herself, and had dressed for comfort, not display: her embarrassment was compounded by unmatched brassiere and panties, which Marcel doubtless frowned upon. Cathy may have called him a queen, but he was still a man, observing her in an intimate circumstance.

She stepped into the dress, Marcel zipped it up, then examined her, turning her around, feeling the lie of the material across her derrière and breasts, adjusting the cloth. "This will have to be taken out slightly", he opined to Cathy; a tape measure appeared from his inner jacket pocket, and he frankly measured her bust and hips so intimately that Leslie felt her face flush.

The process was repeated a number of times until three outfits had been chosen, including shoes. Marcel wheeled the rack of clothing out and Leslie reached for her own clothing, but Cathy stopped her. "We're not quite finished, sweetie"; and before Leslie could query anything Marcel was back with small hangers carrying underwear, lacy, fragile, seductive items: black with red lace; white with blue butterflies; pink; all of them transparent. He laid them out on the counter in a bouquet of colour. "Thank you, Marcel", said Cathy softly. "You can leave us now."

"Now don't do anything outrageous", he queened, before sashaying out and closing the door. Leslie realised that she was expected to try the underwear on in front of the older woman, who sat back in the chair watching her keenly. Leslie felt sure that this had been the objective from the start, but felt strangely resigned to it. Cathy patronised her, yes; but she did so kindly.

Nonetheless, she turned her back, slipped off brassiere and panties, then stepped into the black and red lacy panties. She had never before worn underwear this light, this soft, this feminine; they seemed to glide effortlessly up her legs to rest gently in place. "Turn around, sweetie", whispered Cathy. Leslie had not yet donned the brassiere, and she shyly held her hands over her breasts as she turned to face her.

Cathy examined her openly, then gestured for her to step closer, and leaned forward in the chair to reach out. The panties were so transparent that Cathy had a clear view of her womanhood behind the fabric and it was there that her gaze remained. She ran fingertips slowly, gently up Leslie's legs, the younger woman closing her eyes under the achingly sensual touch. Cathy leaned forward, and Leslie felt the softest kiss against her belly

"Will you let mommy look, sweetie?" Leslie, eyes pressed closed, murmured assent, then felt the panties that had so recently been put on, lowered under Cathy's touch. They puddled on the floor, resting on her feet and ankles.

Cathy reached up and gently lowered Leslie's hands from her breasts, placing them at her side, leaving Leslie completely naked, consciously displayed for Cathy's pleasure. She was trembling slightly in the cool of the room, or was it nervousness?

"Do you know how beautiful you are, sweetie? You still look so young, don't you? Your lips..." She paused momentarily and Leslie realised Cathy was running one finger down her belly, onto her mound, softly opening her to expose her moist folds. "... still look like a schoolgirl. Like petals."

Leslie opened her eyes; Cathy was gently touching, so different to her father, finding the sensitive nerves, causing Leslie to gasp and twitch in traitorous pleasure. "I remember the first time I lay back and opened my legs for a woman; that sense of wonder and lust; the realisation that there are different pleasures; that you don't always need a man inside you; that women bring sensuality that men don't understand. I wonder, sweetie, when you will let me taste you." She looked up, into Leslie's eyes. "I would love to taste you, if you let me."

Leslie could contain herself no longer: she gasped, holding onto Cathy, legs trembling as the orgasm struck and she pressed herself against Cathy's fingers, riding urgently until she cried out loudly and Cathy pulled her down onto her lap. She lay against Cathy, naked, breathing receding slowly, ashamed and fulfilled, her thoughts in turmoil.

Cathy kissed her temple softly. "I'm so glad I could do that for you, sweetie. That's what mommies are for." She placed one finger under Leslie's chin, raised her head, and kissed her on the lips, tongue slipping into Leslie's mouth so that the women explored each other as the first deep kiss is always an exploration, urgent passion at first then dwindling to soft, feminine murmurings.

"We're going to have to tell daddy", Leslie whispered.

Cathy ran a finger softly across Leslie's cheek. "Are you ready for that, sweetie?" Leslie nodded slowly. "Because I know Dan, remember? He will want to watch."