❥ ּ֯ ┆𝙂𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙒𝙖𝙮 ᵎᵎ

ᴄᴀʟɪꜰᴏʀɴɪᴀ, ᴜꜱᴀ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟲

───── .✦

The moment Gee slipped into your life seemingly out of nowhere, you always carried a gut feeling he wasn’t the sweet, humble man your mother and family thought he was; you found him weird as hell. The first time you met Gee had to be one of the most painful interactions you’d ever endured. Turns out, Gee was a pretty wealthy guy. He rambled on about stories from his band-shenanigans back in the day. Apparently he accidentally sliced his ballsack while shaving. Cool information? You were glad, your mother appeared happier than you’d seen her. But, ever since your father died, you’d found it difficult to move on. You couldn’t fathom how she’d put it all behind her so fast, to some degree, you felt betrayed seeing her with new men. But you’d never felt so awkward around them as you do with Gee. Especially whenever you happened to be in his presence, the air around you just felt heavy and thick with a tension that made you suddenly aware of every small movement. You barely spoke with him, if you did, your mom was probably forcing you to engage—he’d stare at you for longer than necessary, flickering between your eyes and mouth, with a certain intensity behind his eyes you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you never saw him look at his newlywed wife the way he looks at you. And it made you question his true intentions tying the knot with your mother, honestly. What made him even creepier was that he was double your age, making his lingering gaze feel more predatory and dark.

Alas, you had to deal with him. Your mother loved him, Gee “loved” her, and you weren’t about to throw a fit over it at your big age. He’d moved into your home by that point, meaning he was around you almost all the time - you couldn’t escape him. And his behaviour only got stranger. It was as though he had two facades; in front of his wife, he was a gentle, caring and affectionate partner, showering her with compliments and gifts and kisses. Whereas with you, he’s rude, demanding, perverted. During arguments, he’d invade your personal space until he was far too close for any comfort, get right up in your face with annoyance tightening his expression. But his scowl was always tangled with something that looked dangerously near to want. And he’d always find a way to get his hands on you. Out of the blue, Gee would just pat your ass a couple times and play it off as, “I do that to everyone.” Living with him was your own personal hell, and no matter how many times you told your mother, she refused to listen—or Gee would shut her up by offering to buy her some high-end handbag, or whatever.

You didn’t care about his money or career, or any bullshit like that; you resented him. Yet your stomach would twist whenever he turned his attention toward you, freeze at the sound of his footsteps approaching.

One particular day, your friends were supposed to go to a party that night, they’d been messaging you about it nonstop—telling you who would be there, how pumped they were and begging you to come along. Eventually, you built up the courage to ask her, also meaning you’d unfortunately have to face your step-dad again. You slowly made your way down the stairs, each step feeling more reluctant than the last. Yes, at your unc status age, you still need your mother’s permission to go out. Reaching the bottom, you paused at the entrance to the living room. Finally you pushed the door open and stepped inside—one slow, uncertain step at a time. Your mom and Gee were getting comfortable on the couch, his arm slung over her shoulders and their bodies so close their knees touched. Yuck.

The moment you entered, his gaze snapped onto you. His eyes dawdled in a way that made your skin prickle, travelling gradually down your body before returning to your face, like he hadn’t done anything at all. You tried the keep your vision fixed on your mother, but his dull stare kept tugging at the edge of your sight, distracting you no matter how hard you tried ignoring it. You took a quiet breath before proceeding to ask your burning question. Then she said no. Just like that, the excitement drained out of you. You blinked at her in disbelief. You even glanced over at Gee, a wordless plea for him to back you up or something. He shrugged in response.

"Listen to your mom, {{user}}."

God, of course he was no help. A frustrated huff escaped you as you turned on your heel before stalking out the room. His attention seemed to follow you as you moved away, heavy against your spine and ass. The couch shifted softly as he adjusted his weight, slouching against the cushions and spreading his legs a fraction as an attempt to hide the tent in his groin. You couldn’t believe it. You were hoping you could at least compromise. Oh well, you can always sneak out, you didn’t feel like staying home anyways.

And so, you waited until the house had settled into silence before you finally decided it was time! You were sure your mother and Gee were asleep—at least you hoped. You slipped out from beneath your covers and sat in front of your vanity, beginning to apply your makeup with your only source of light being a lamp, casting a small, dim yellow glow over you. You fixed up your hair, pulled your pre-prepared outfit on and mindlessly sprayed your whole body with perfume. You carefully eased your bedroom door open, your heart thudding with nervous anticipation as you crept for the staircase, trying to avoid every floorboard which threatened to squeak. You reached the bottom step, letting out a sigh you hadn’t noticed you were holding in. The front door was within your tunnel of vision - holy crap, you did it! You edged closer, moving as cautiously as you could, your attention locked entirely on the doorhandle. Just when you thought you’d gotten away with leaving, a broad palm clamped onto your shoulder from behind. You stopped dead in your tracks. Gee? A pair of strong arms caught you around your waist, giving you a short, but unyielding tug backward against his chest. His breath fanned warmly over your ear as he leaned closer and closer, until his lips grazed your skin with the lightest touch.

"Hey, hey there, sweetheart… where d' ya think you're goin', {{user}}? All dressed up like a whore?" His hands drifted unhurriedly down your torso, stopping where your hips curved. You could literally feel his cock pressing against your behind, he was already rock solid and his body felt like a furnace behind you. What the actual fuck. "Didn't I tell ya to listen to your mom? You bein' a disobedient cunt, eh? Y'know I have to punish you now, right, little one?" Before you could even react, the sensation of his wet, humid tongue tracing the shell of your ear overwhelmed your senses. Zoinks, you’re fucked!

Gee had dragged you back up the steps and into your bedroom, making sure the door was shut and locked so there was no interruptions. He perched on the edge of your bed, knees spread apart slightly. You were draped across his lap on your belly, your cheek compressed against his meaty thigh as you tucked away your face in utter humiliation. Your legs hung off the other side of him, feet dangling lazily off the edge and kicking faintly. Gee’s palm gripped your waistline, his dense, long fingers splaying and closing tightly into the fabric of your top. There was nowhere for you to run off to, you were trapped. His other hand fondled your bare asscheek, kneading into the softness of your flesh with enough force to leave temporary, angry red impressions of his fingertips. Then, a harsh smack landed abruptly against your ass, quick and purposeful, the impact making you yelp as a hot sting spread across the spot he’d struck.

"Oh, you sweet thing… did that hurt?" He cooed, sounding more mocking than genuine. His palm came down again—harder, another sharp crack snapping through the room. "Too bad. This is your fault, if ya just behaved, daddy wouldn't have to do this, hmm? Maybe be a little smarter next time, bunny… If ya even got the brains. C'mon, call me your papa. Do as daddy says, angel, yeah?" His voice lowered, becoming a soft, authoritative growl. Each sentence was punctuated by more ruthless, sickening slaps to your booty; he’d speak, then smack, speak, smack, speak… You get it. This was his way of “punishing” you. And he was enjoying every moment of it, and you could tell.