“A Sexual Punishment Encounter Between Stepdad And Daughter”
Klara works as a maid on the weekends, cleaning her neighbours’ houses for extra cash. She is apprehensive to take on a job working for her stepdad, who separated from her mom a couple of years before. Her stepdad took everything in the divorce, including the house that Klara grew up in! Seeing an opportunity, she steals money from his wallet when she goes inside to clean. But Klara’s luck takes a turn for the worse when her stepdad returns and catches her red handed. She has no choice but to take his punishment, no matter how brutal.
I grimaced as I pulled up outside the big white house with the red door. It was exactly how I’d remembered it, neat and tidy with roses around the border. I had hoped that my stepdad might have let it fall into a state of disrepair, so that he wouldn’t get to admire its beauty every day like I had done growing up there.
No such luck. If anything, the house looked better than ever. I could tell that the door had been freshly painted, and the lawn was absolutely immaculate. I made a face, and reached over to the passenger seat to grab my cleaning supplies. This was a low moment.
I hauled the heavy bag and myself out of the car, and then walked slowly up the path towards the front door. I couldn’t believe that I was in this situation, but there was no use grumbling about it now. Times were hard, and I needed money.
It just felt so demeaning to be working as a maid, especially when I had a degree in sociology from a reputable college. But the economy was tough, and since graduating from college I got myself into a lot of trouble. I’d been hanging out with the wrong sort of people, and one way another I’d ended up getting myself into a lot of debt. So, I decided to start my own little business venture on the side, working as a maid at weekends in order to try and supplement my income. It wasn’t ideal, but there were no start-up fees (aside from purchasing a few cleaning products) and there was a definite demand in my area for my services.
I quickly learned to work fast and efficiently, and most weekends I managed to visit at least six or seven houses. I worked hard, but that meant I reaped the benefits. However, no matter how hard I work it just didn’t seem like enough. I was always short at the end of the month, always counting my pennies and depriving myself of little luxuries. It seemed like my entire life consisted of nothing but work, work, work.
That was why I decided to take on a new ‘client’ as it were. My stepdad was one of the wealthiest people in the neighbourhood, and I put most of it down to the fact that he managed to squeeze everything out of my mom when they got divorced. He kept the house, the cars, and retained all the rights to the family business. You would think that I would be angry, but I knew deep down that it was my mom’s fault. She was careless, and lazy — in the final years of their marriage she hardly ever spent any time at home, and was more interested in going off on fancy holidays with her friends rather than being at home with my stepdad and I, and attempting at being a real family. I wasn’t surprised to learn in my freshman year of college that they were planning on getting a divorce. Nor was I surprised to hear the, in the end, my stepdad took everything.
I didn’t really speak to my mom, we weren’t really close. But I hadn’t spoken to my stepdad either, and I hadn’t once since the divorce. I knew that feelings between us were tense and strange. We had never really gotten along even when he was married to my mom, so I suppose neither of us saw any need to continue some sort of relationship now that they were separated.
This made it all the more awkward when my stepdad called me up, asking for my services as a house maid. I accepted his offer, as he proposed to pay twice as much as my asking price. I think he’d put his prize because he knew I would be apprehensive to take him up on his offer. There was just something so cringe worthy about having to turn up and clean my childhood house from top to bottom, as my stepdad looked on in smug amusement.
But, I needed the cash. So I reluctantly agreed. Plus I thought it might be quite nice to have a look around the house, and see how much it changed in the last few years.
I could see, as I walked towards the house, that not a great deal had. It was still as beautiful as I remember, and it still had that odd sense of home about it to me, strangely. I raised the brass doorknocker, and knocked loudly three times before stepping back and waiting. I tried my best to hold my head high, and keep my shoulders back, but it was clear that I felt embarrassed. I didn’t want my stepdad see me like this.
Nobody answered the door, so I knocked again. I waited patiently, but again nobody came. I was starting to get agitated, so I knocked again. Once again there was no answer and by now I was pretty angry. What if this was all just a big joke? What if he’d told me to come over here, promising me money, just so that he could laugh in my face? It was far-fetched, and I didn’t think it was really my stepdad style, but what if it was true?
I fumbled in my handbag for my mobile phone, determined to call him and find out what the hell was going on. But when I looked at my phone, I noticed that I had an unread text message;
Hey, Klara it’s Jim. I’m out all day, so just let yourself in. The key is in it’s usual spot. Have fun! Xx
How strange! His message was more friendly than I thought it probably should be for a man who was now a stranger to me. And the fact that he had left the key in the old spot, underneath the cushion on the porch swing, filled me with a strange and almost unpleasant sense of nostalgia. But I just shook my head and thought of the money, before grabbing the key and carrying on with my job.
Inside, the house had changed so much from how I remembered it. It was clear that my stepdad had a very minimalistic taste, and it looked like there was barely anything inside. I should have been happy, less ornaments would mean an easier job for me when it came to cleaning the place, but instead I fell oddly deflated. The house had lost its character, and that made me angry.
I set about washing the windows with a scowl on my face, gritting my teeth. It was just typical of my stepdad, to get given something as beautiful as this huge house and turn into something ugly and soulless. I couldn’t believe how much he must have changed, to still be living in this huge house without being all consumed by guilt.
That got me contemplating on my own situation. I couldn’t believe how much I had changed too. I used to be such a driven person, brimming with enthusiasm and ambition. Now I was struggling to make ends meet, polishing and dusting people’s houses for extra cash. My stepdad must have thought I was a real joke.
I sighed and took up the duster, and began running at around the curtain rail, before starting on the mantelpiece. It was then that something caught my eye. My stepdad’s wallet was resting on the edge of the mantle. I thought it was strange that he would leave the house without it, and considered calling his mobile to let him know. But then an even better idea hit me.
I rushed over and grab the wallet, opening it up and peering inside with eager eyes. Just as I had suspected, it was stuffed full of notes. I counted them quickly, there was around 700 dollars in there! That was more than I would earn for an entire weekend’s work!
I took a moment to consider my options. If I took the money, and left the house without looking back that I would cut off all ties with my stepdad (plus I’d gain the satisfaction of feeling like I’d at lease got one over on him). However, if I cut off all ties with him then I wouldn’t get any repeat business. He was offering to pay me very well, and I really did need the money. But was I actually prepared to swallow my pride like this on a weekly basis? Walking up to the front door to the house had been one of the hardest things I’d had to do in a long time, and I wasn’t sure if I could keep doing it.
I made a split decision, and stuffed the role of notes into my cleavage before putting the wallet back on the mantelpiece. I quickly began to gather my cleaning products, removing my rubber gloves and stuffing them into my apron pocket. I then scurried across the living room floor, towards the front door. That’s when I froze.
The door handle was turning, as if in slow motion, and I heard the sound of a man clearing his throat outside. It was too late to put the money back now. I was going to have to wing it.
“Ah Klara – I thought you’d be here” my stepdad said as the door swung open. His voice was cheery, however his expression was neutral. He stepped inside and removed his coat, hanging it up on the wall as he kicked off his shoes. That was always a stupid rule of his; no shoes in the house. I felt a mini sense of triumph as I realised I was still wearing my own, but that triumph was immediately squashed by a sense of panic. My stepdad’s eyes glanced over to his wallet on the mantelpiece.
“Aha, there it is” my stepdad said, walking over to the mantelpiece “I only realised I’d left it behind when I got to the gas station, typical.”
He picked up the wallet, and I had to stop myself from gasping with panic. I did my best to keep my expression straight, and smiled at him — unsure how to respond. He held the wallet in his hand for a second, which felt like an eternity, and then slipped inside the pocket of his jeans. Again I had to stop myself from letting out a big sigh of relief.
“You look like you’re just about to leave?” My stepdad said, his face suddenly stern “I’ve only been gone 20 minutes, you can’t have cleaned the house in that time. Is this something you’re not telling me, Klara?”
I went tense, desperately searching my brain for a quick and believable lie.
“I’ve only just got here” I blurted out, “sorry, I was running a little late – things have been a bit hectic for me lately”
I was surprised at my own quick thinking, and waited hopefully for him to respond. It was convincing enough, wasn’t it?
“I see” my stepdad said, a hint of sympathy in his voice “I gathered that things might not be going too well on account of you doing this with yourself now.” He gestured to a box of cleaning products as he spoke. I felt a prickle of rage inside me at the way he patronised me, but forced myself to smile instead.
“You’re right” I said “Times are hard, but I do what I can.”
He looked at me with what appeared to be genuine sympathy in his eyes. And then, to my horror he reached inside the pocket of his jeans.
“I understand” he said, taking out his wallet “in that case, let me give you an advancement on your earnings. It’s probably the least I can do, all things considered…”
I winced as he looked inside the wallet, and I saw his eyes widen with shock. He looked up at me, and I realised at that moment that he knew exactly what I had done. I could feel my cheeks burning red, I must have looked guilty as sin. There were no more quick excuses or believable lies inside my panic-stunned brain. All I could do was watch in dismay as his face turned a deep shade of crimson and he stomped towards me.
“So you’re stealing things now?” he snapped, stopping right in front of me and looking me square in the eyes “you were always disobedient, Klara – but I never pegged you as a petty thief. I have no choice but to report you to the police.”
To my utter shock he reached down my top, grabbing the roll of notes from between my breasts and yanking it free. But he did it with such force that the buttons of my dress burst open, and my huge tits sprang free. I gasped in shock, covering them with my arms while he fixed me with an intense stare.
Something had changed in his expression. He was still angry, but now there was a new layer to his rage. I tried to hold my dress together and shield my breasts from his eyes, but it was no use. Of all the days for me not to wear a bra!
“Oh yes” my stepdad said in a low voice “you were always such a naughty girl. Always in need of discipline. I suppose some things never change.”
Suddenly I felt a searing pain on my cheek, and stars appeared before my eyes. There was a loud ringing noise in my ear, as I finally realised that my stepdad had slapped me hard across the face. Tears filled my eyes as I looked at him in confusion.
“Accept your punishment” my stepdad said, calmly “and I’m willing to forget all of this ever happened”
Then, to my utter surprise my stepdad grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me hard on the mouth. What the hell was going on? I tried to pull away from the kiss at first, but my stepdad held me firmly in place. He slid his tongue into my mouth, and massaged mine with lustful strokes. I was absolutely powerless.
My stepdad pulled away from me, and looked me up and down.