[Continued from Part 23]
“But you know, Rebecca, Daddy and I designed this with a dual use. There’s enough play in those cords to go lower… right to those naughty little pussy lips…”
Chapter 37: Pussy Whipped
“Turn around,” John said, guiding Rebecca to stand with her bound arms against the wall. He lengthened the nylon cords so they now ran over her shoulders, grazing her small breasts, and continuing their descent to her vulnerable labia.
John stooped and removed the pants and panties that were tangled around her ankles. “Spread your legs, Rebecca," he instructed, his voice betraying no hint of mercy.
Rebecca complied, her cheeks burning with shame as she exposed herself to the cool air and the eager eyes of her audience. With a swift, decisive motion, John attached the first clip to her left pussy lip. The sensation was immediate and intense, a sharp pinch that took her breath away. Before she could fully process the discomfort, the second clip was secured on her right lip.
Stephanie leaned in, her gaze fixed on the spectacle before her. "Now, let's see how well you can handle this," she said, her voice dripping with glee.
John began turning the ratchet which pulled the dual cords through the pulley and began to raise the clips slowly. The cords tightened, pulling against Rebecca's pussy lips.The tension increased gradually, causing Rebecca's labia to spread apart, revealing the pink, glistening interior of her sex. Her inner lips, her vaginal hole, and her clitoris were all on display, exposed to the cool air and the gazes of her husband and stepdaughter.
As the cords pulled taut, Rebecca's body was forced onto her tiptoes once again, the strain on her labia a constant, throbbing reminder of her predicament. The position was awkward and uncomfortable, but it was the sheer exposure of her most private parts that truly tested her resolve.
"Look at her, Daddy," Stephanie said, a note of amusement in her voice. "She's like a butterfly pinned to a board, every secret laid bare for us to see."
John's eyes roamed over Rebecca's displayed sex, his expression one of approval and possession. "Indeed. This is how a disobedient wife should be presented—completely open and vulnerable, with nowhere to hide."
Rebecca's face burned with shame as she writhed against the relentless pull of the cords. Each movement sent a jolt of pain through her stretched labia, yet it also stirred a deep, unwanted arousal that only added to her embarrassment.
John’s voice was cold and controlled as he began. “Stephanie told me what happened.”
Rebecca’s heart dropped. She could feel her face flush with embarrassment, and her breath caught in her throat.
John’s eyes narrowed. “And you know exactly what I’m talking about. Stephanie and Jake walked in on you—on the couch—doing something completely inappropriate.”
Rebecca’s face turned crimson, and she lowered her gaze, unable to look either of them in the eye.
John’s expression hardened even further. “There is no excuse, Rebecca. What you did was unacceptable. You know how wrong that was, don’t you? You should have more respect for yourself and this family.”
Rebecca couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. She felt utterly humiliated, caught like a child in the worst possible way.
John’s voice was sharp. “Do you realize how embarrassed Stephanie and Jake were? How awkward you made things for them?”
Rebecca glanced briefly at Stephanie, who stood by, arms crossed and watching the entire scene unfold. Stephanie’s expression was firm, with no sympathy or softness, as if she fully agreed with John’s assessment of the situation.
“This isn’t just about what happened on that couch last week. This is about a bigger problem—one that’s been going on for a while now.”
John’s eyes bore into hers, and his tone shifted to something even more serious, more personal. “Your behavior… in our bed, Rebecca. I’ve noticed it for a long time now. Before I started disciplining you, you were distant, disinterested. It’s like you’re going through the motions without being there—without caring.”
“You think I didn’t notice?” John continued, his voice sharpening. “It’s obvious. The lack of connection, the lack of effort. And now I understand why.” He paused for effect, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. “It’s because you’re too busy pleasuring yourself, isn’t it?”
Rebecca’s eyes widened, and she could barely bring herself to look up at him.
“And that,” John said firmly, “ends now.”
"Now, young lady," John said, his tone leaving no room for dissent. "This will be your punishment if we ever catch you playing with yourself again. I’ll not have my own wife releasing her sexual tensions outside our relationship. Do I make myself clear?”
Rebecca nodded vigorously, the ball gag making it impossible to speak.
John went to a nearby drawer, opened it, and returned to his bound wife with a solemn expression, his hand gripping a light whip, its tendrils designed to deliver a sting that would linger long after the punishment was over. "This," he said, his voice steady and authoritative, "is what happens when you betray our agreement, when you take your pleasure into your own hands without my permission."
Rebecca's eyes were wide with trepidation, her breath coming in shallow gasps around the gag. She knew she had erred, and the anticipation of the whip's bite was almost as punishing as the act itself.
With a flick of his wrist, John sent the whip dancing across Rebecca's exposed sex. The impact was sharp and sudden, eliciting a muffled cry from behind the ball gag. Again and again, the whip kissed her skin, each stroke a reminder of her submission, her promise to remain faithful to his desires and his desires alone.
"You will learn, Rebecca," John intoned, his gaze locked onto hers. "You will learn to control your urges, to save your pleasure for me. Do you understand?"
Rebecca screamed into her ball gag, dancing around as the little whip struck at her most tender areas. Her drool amplified and soaked her from tits to toes as she danced violently, constrained only by the cruel labia clamps.
Stephanie had a smirk of satisfaction spreading across her face. The sight of her stepmother, bound like this and exposed, was a delicious tableau of justice served. It was impossible to hide the chuckle that bubbled up from her throat, a sound of pure, unrestrained glee that echoed through the room.
As her father, John, wielded the light whip with calculated precision, each stroke eliciting a muffled cry from behind the ball gag, Stephanie's laughter grew louder, richer. She reveled in the spectacle, her eyes gleaming with schadenfrede, drinking in every detail of Rebecca's punishment. The way her stepmother's body jerked with each lash, the deepening shade of crimson that painted her punished pussy—it was all so exquisitely poetic.
"Oh, Rebecca," Stephanie taunted, her voice dripping with mock concern, "did you really think you could get away with it? Right there on the family couch, of all places?" Her laughter pealed through the room again, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere that hung heavily around the punished woman.
As the punishment reached its crescendo, Stephanie's mirth showed no signs of waning. She clapped her hands in delight, her laughter now a series of giggles that punctuated the silence that followed each stroke of the whip. It was a moment of pure, untainted joy, a memory that she would savor long after the marks on Rebecca's skin had faded.
When it was over, and Rebecca slumped against the wall, her labia still stretched high and apart, a picture of abject humiliation, Stephanie pushed herself off the doorway, her smile as bright as the morning sun. She sauntered over to her stepmother, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
"I hope you've learned your lesson," Stephanie said, her voice laced with a victorious lilt. "Next time, maybe you'll think twice before you decide to entertain yourself without Dad's permission."
Rebecca's breath came in ragged gasps, the ball gag rendering her cries to mere whimpers that barely escaped her lips. Her body, slick with the sheen of exertion and humiliation, trembled against the cold wall at her back, the ratchet and pulley system maintaining its cruel grip on her labia.
The delicate petals of her sex, once hidden and private, were now on full display, engorged and swollen not just from the lashing, but from the relentless tension of the cords that held them aloft. The whip's caress had painted her skin with a mosaic of pink and red welts, a testament to the severity of her punishment and the undeniable control her husband wielded over her body.
Each lash had left its mark, the once smooth and soft flesh of her labia now bore the evidence of her transgressions. The raised stripes crisscrossed her sensitive skin, a stark contrast against the paler, untouched surrounding areas. The heat radiating from her punished pussy was palpable, a burning reminder of her submission and the boundaries of her marital obligations.
The visual spectacle of her inflamed and exposed sex was not lost on Stephanie, whose eyes were fixated on the sight with a mixture of fascination and satisfaction. The laughter had subsided, but the glee in her eyes remained as she took in the sight of her stepmother's most private parts, so lewdly displayed and marked by her father's disciplinary hand.
Rebecca's pussy, slick with arousal born of pain and shame, glistened under the harsh light of the room. The juxtaposition of her body's betrayal—the physical evidence of her excitement intermingled with the signs of her punishment—only served to deepen her humiliation. It was a raw and vulnerable exposure, a blatant declaration of her surrender to the rules and roles established within their home.
As John approached his wife, his gaze softened, taking in the sight of her punished and open sex. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the welts, a silent promise of his continued dominance and her enduring submission. The contrast between his tender touch and the harshness of the whip was not lost on Rebecca; it served as a powerful reminder that her pain and pleasure were entirely at his discretion.
In the quiet aftermath of the lashing, with her labia still held captive by the cords, Rebecca was acutely aware of her state of undress and the lingering sting of her punishment. Yet beneath the shame and the burn, there was an undeniable sense of relief, a cathartic release that came with the acceptance of her role and the knowledge that she had been thoroughly claimed and disciplined by her husband.
"Now, Rebecca," John said, his voice a low rumble that resonated in the stillness of the room, "this punishment is not yet over." His words hung heavy, each syllable a portent of what was to come. "Tonight, regardless of the pain, you will spread your legs for me. You will fulfill your marital duties, and you will do so with the same submission and obedience that you have shown here today."
Rebecca's eyes widened, the realization of his intent dawning upon her. The thought of enduring the intimacy of sex so soon after her lashing was both terrifying and oddly exhilarating. Her body, already so thoroughly claimed and disciplined, would once again be at his mercy, her discomfort a bitter reminder of her transgressions.
"You should consider this part of your punishment," John continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Every twinge of pain, every moment you wish to recoil from my touch, will serve as a reminder that your pleasure is secondary to your obedience. Your body is mine to discipline, and mine to enjoy."
The cords that held her labia taut were a visual symbol of her enforced readiness, a physical manifestation of her husband's will. She knew that later, when the time came for her to lie beneath him, the sensitivity of her punished flesh would make even the gentlest touch feel like a brand. Yet, she also understood that this was an integral part of her penance, a necessary act of contrition that would reaffirm their bond and her place within their marriage.
Satisfied, John released the tension, allowing Rebecca to relax onto the flats of her feet. He then reached behind her head, unbuckling the ball gag. As it slipped from her lips, she gasped, her mouth aching from being forced open, and drool spilled down her chin, tracing its humiliating path along her bare skin.
Before she could fully catch her breath, he moved behind her, releasing the bindings around her wrists, letting her arms drop with a heavy sigh of relief.
As John stepped forward to release Rebecca from the clamps, her entire body remained tense, still quivering from the punishment she’d just endured. He reached down, his hands working with steady precision as he unclasped the clamps attached to her sensitive, flushed labia. The moment they snapped open, blood rushed back to her tender skin, bringing a searing, throbbing ache that made her gasp, her legs instinctively clenching together as she struggled to steady herself.
The pain was immediate and intense, causing Rebecca’s hands to fly down to cradle her aching, stinging pussy. The sharp relief was quickly replaced by a pulsing discomfort that radiated through her, and before she knew it, she found herself shifting her weight from foot to foot, hopping slightly in place as she tried to ease the overwhelming sensation.
John and Stephanie stood back, watching her struggle with looks of amusement, clearly satisfied with her predicament. Her face burned as she realized they were both enjoying her discomfort, their eyes following her every squirm and twitch as she did a helpless little dance, naked but for the pants and panties still bunched around her ankles.
“Oh, poor thing,” Stephanie drawled, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Maybe you’ll think twice next time before touching yourself without permission.”
Rebecca’s cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, the shame intensifying her discomfort as she tried to soothe the ache in her throbbing, sensitive flesh. John’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and after a moment, he inclined his head toward the kitchen.
“Go on, Rebecca,” he said, his tone firm but laced with indulgence. “Get yourself some ice. You look like you need it.”
Barely able to meet his gaze, Rebecca gave a quick, desperate nod, her hands still hovering between her legs as she awkwardly kicked off her pants and panties and stumbled toward the kitchen. She could feel both of them watching her as she moved, her naked body still flushed from the punishment, each step a reminder of the throbbing ache between her legs.
Reaching the kitchen, she opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, pressing it against her tender, swollen skin with a soft gasp as the coolness brought a mix of relief and fresh shock. She shifted the pack slightly, adjusting it to cover the most sensitive areas, her head bowed in humiliation as John and Stephanie strolled in, leaning casually against the counter to watch her.
“My, my,” Stephanie teased, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Look at her, desperate for a little relief. Do you think she’ll remember this next time she gets any ideas about sneaking off to touch herself, Dad?”
John smirked, crossing his arms as he continued to watch Rebecca with a calm, satisfied gaze. “I imagine so,” he replied. “And if not… well, I’m sure a reminder like this will bring her right back in line.”
Rebecca’s face flushed under their scrutiny, the cool ice pressing against her sensitive skin, her body shifting awkwardly under their amused stares. The humiliation of standing there, naked and vulnerable, her shame laid bare before them, only deepened the lesson she knew they intended her to learn.
“Rebecca, move the ice pack,” said John. “Let’s see the full extent of what happens when you decide you don’t need permission to masturbate.”
Rebecca’s fingers hesitated, instinctively gripping the pack tighter as her cheeks flushed deeply. But one look at John’s expectant gaze and Stephanie’s smirk left her with no choice. Slowly, she lifted the ice pack away, letting the cool relief slip from her skin and leaving her freshly punished flesh exposed once more.
John and Stephanie leaned closer, their eyes fixed on her, taking in every sign of the punishment she’d endured. Her labia, normally soft and untouched, were swollen and bruised, flushed an angry shade of red where the clamps had bitten down, leaving deep, visible imprints. Along the edges of her lips, faint bruises were beginning to blossom in shades of purple and dark pink, marking precisely where the metal had pressed in. The skin was tender and raw, the raised, rough lines a clear testament to the harsh treatment she’d received.
Further down, the delicate inner folds of her lips bore angry, red welts from the whipping. Thin, stinging lines crisscrossed her sensitive skin, where each strike had left its mark, spread outward as though each lash had been deliberately placed. Some marks had already begun to fade to pinkish stripes, but others remained dark and sharp, standing out starkly against her now-swollen, reddened labia.
The combination of clamps and whipping had left her entire mound looking thoroughly punished. Her skin, normally smooth and pale, was marred with tender, raised welts and bruises, her labia visibly engorged from both the treatment and the blood rushing back. The delicate folds were sore and aching, each visible mark a reminder of her punishment and the sensitivity that would linger as a result.
John’s gaze was steady, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as he took in the full effect. “Take a good look at yourself, Rebecca,” he murmured, his tone soft but firm. “This is the result of touching yourself without permission. I hope you’re aware of what happens when you overstep your boundaries.”
Stephanie, standing beside him with a smirk, leaned in to inspect the red welts crisscrossing her most sensitive skin. “A proper reminder, wouldn’t you say?” she added, her voice laced with mock sympathy. “Maybe now, each time you feel tempted, you’ll remember what it feels like to have your little lips spread and whipped until they’re thoroughly marked.”
Rebecca’s face burned as they scrutinized her, her body tense under their steady gaze. She could feel the residual sting intensify simply from their inspection, the heat and ache of her punished skin seeming to throb in rhythm with her heartbeat. As their eyes traced each mark, each bruise, and every lingering line of the whip, the humiliation settled in deeply, driving home the lesson that her boundaries were not hers to define.
After a moment, John straightened, his tone commanding as he addressed her once more. “Alright, that’s enough ice, Rebecca,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He stepped forward, giving her a firm, playful swat on her bare backside, making her startle. “To the bedroom. I want you kneeling, head down, and that little bottom of yours up, waiting.”
Rebecca’s cheeks flamed with renewed embarrassment, especially under Stephanie’s smirk. She cast a quick glance at the two of them, but their expectant looks left her with no choice. With a shaky breath, she set the ice pack down and turned, padding off to the bedroom, feeling their eyes on her every step of the way.
As Rebecca made her way to the bedroom, her heart pounded in anticipation and embarrassment, each step reminding her of the tender soreness between her legs. She climbed onto the bed, positioning herself as John had instructed: head down, bottom up, legs spread, her vulnerable, aching sex exposed. The cool air brushed against her, and a mix of trepidation and expectation coursed through her as she braced herself, assuming her husband would soon arrive to complete her punishment with a thorough fucking to her sore cunt.
As Rebecca lay there, positioned exactly as John had instructed, her heart raced with a conflicting blend of nervous anticipation and trepidation. Every inch of her skin tingled with the memory of his punishment, the throbbing ache between her legs reminding her just how raw and sensitive she was. Yet, the thought of him coming in, completing her punishment in this vulnerable position, stirred something deep inside her, igniting a nervous excitement she could hardly suppress.
She squirmed slightly, shifting her weight as she imagined him entering the room, his footsteps heavy with purpose. Her anticipation built with each passing moment, her breath quickening as her mind wandered to what awaited her. Her skin was still raw from the punishment, each lingering ache and throb reminding her of how thoroughly he had disciplined her. The thought of him entering now, of him filling her while she was still so sore, made her heart pound in both trepidation and yearning.
She bit her lip, squirming slightly as the soreness between her legs pulsed with each movement. She worried desperately that she might be too tender to take him fully, that the stretch would be overwhelming after the clamps and the whip. Yet, even as the worry built, she knew she would be given no choice in the matter. Her body was his to claim, her comfort secondary to the lesson he’d set out to teach.
The thought sent a shiver through her, a mixture of dread and resolve pooling in her chest. She felt utterly at his mercy, knowing that she would have to endure whatever he decided to give, no matter how raw she felt. With a steadying breath, she braced herself, her heart pounding as she waited for the sound of his footsteps, ready to submit completely—even if it meant surrendering to both pleasure and pain in equal measure.
Rebecca’s body tensed, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her, torn between wanting him to enter and fearing the ache it would bring. She bit her lip, her breath shallow as she braced herself, knowing that whatever happened, she was at his mercy. The mix of apprehension and anticipation sent a shiver down her spine, her body trembling as she waited, poised for the door to open and for John to take what he’d promised.
The ache between her legs throbbed in reminder of the punishment she’d just endured, each throb bringing her back to why she was in this position in the first place.
A pang of guilt mingled with the lingering pain as she reflected on her own actions, the countless times she’d taken matters into her own hands when John wasn’t around. The quiet, stolen moments, the secret indulgences—she’d let herself get carried away, her desires slipping out of control. She knew now, as she lay exposed and waiting, that he’d been right to punish her. Her body had needed this reminder, the punishment to her pussy so fitting the crime.
The realization deepened her sense of humility, her cheeks flushed as she squirmed in anticipation of John’s arrival. Despite the ache, she found herself yearning for him, desperate to feel him claim her fully, her soreness only underscoring how much she needed him to take control. But with each aching pulse, she promised herself that she’d change, that she’d be a good girl from now on. No more secret touches, no more slipping into moments of indulgence without his permission.
As she lay there, ready and waiting, she vowed silently that she’d never again take matters into her own hands, never again allow herself to stray from the discipline he set for her. She’d be patient, obedient, and always wait for him to give her the relief she craved. The thought sent a shiver through her, a mixture of nervousness and resolve settling in her heart as she waited, ready to submit herself entirely, trusting him to decide what she needed and when.
But instead of John’s heavy footsteps, a softer sound approached. Rebecca’s heart skipped as she recognized Stephanie’s familiar stride. The door opened, and Stephanie entered, a smirk spreading across her face as she took in Rebecca’s obedient, waiting position.
“Oh my,” Stephanie teased, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dripping with mock amusement. “Look at you, all ready and presenting yourself so eagerly. Expecting Daddy to come in and finish what he started, were you?”
Rebecca’s cheeks flushed deep red, and she instinctively shifted, the vulnerable position suddenly feeling even more exposing under Stephanie’s gaze. Before she could lift her head, Stephanie moved closer, placing a gentle hand on her lower back to keep her in place.
“Not so fast,” Stephanie said, her tone light but firm. “Daddy decided to take a little mercy on you, give you some time to recover. The rest will come tonight, after you’ve had a chance to really feel the effects of your lesson.”
Rebecca’s face burned with a mix of embarrassment and relief, her body still held in that exposing position. She thought her ordeal might be over, but instead, Stephanie reached pulled out a jar from her pocket and unscrewed the lid to reveal the cooling, healing cream. Rebecca shifted toward the side trying to not look so exposed.
“Oh, don’t act so shy now,” Stephanie continued, a mocking lilt in her voice as she stepped forward, circling around Rebecca’s prone form. “I bet you were hoping he’d come in and take you, weren’t you? Poor thing, so desperate for him, despite how sore you must be. It’s almost… adorable.”
Rebecca’s blush deepened, her pulse racing as Stephanie’s words sunk in, the humiliation mixing with her desire and making her heart pound. Stephanie chuckled, clearly reveling in her reaction.
Stephanie dipped her fingers into the jar, gathering a generous amount of the cream, and began to gently apply it to Rebecca’s tender pussy, her touch both soothing and teasing. “You really were ready, weren’t you?” she murmured, chuckling as she spread the cream over the marks left by the clamps and the whipping. “Head down, legs spread, hoping Daddy would come in and use you just like this.”
Rebecca’s breath hitched, her face heating further as Stephanie’s fingers worked the cream into her skin with a maddening slowness. The coolness of the cream soothed the sting, but Stephanie’s words left her flustered, squirming slightly under the touch.
“Such an eager little thing,” Stephanie continued, leaning in close as she worked, her fingers grazing over the sensitive areas, applying the cream with delicate care. “But I suppose you’ll just have to wait. Daddy has his own plans, and he’ll make sure you’re ready for him later.”
Rebecca swallowed, caught between the embarrassment of her position and the relief from the soothing cream. Stephanie’s gentle, teasing touch kept her off-balance, leaving her to endure every moment, knowing that the night would bring the true conclusion to her punishment.
Stephanie’s smirk deepened, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes as her fingers lingered over Rebecca’s vulnerable form. She trailed her fingertip slowly, almost teasingly, over the tender skin, letting her touch drift up until it tapped lightly on Rebecca’s bottom hole, making her shiver involuntarily.
“You know,” Stephanie drawled, her tone dripping with mischief, “with how sore that poor little pussy of yours is, tonight might just be the one time in your life you actually beg for it up the bum.”
Rebecca’s face burned an even deeper shade of crimson, her body tensing as Stephanie’s words sank in. She bit her lip, unable to deny that the thought struck a chord, especially with the ache still throbbing between her legs. Her heart raced, half mortified, half unable to push the idea away.
Stephanie chuckled softly, clearly reveling in Rebecca’s silent struggle. She let her finger trace a slow circle over her exposed hole, making Rebecca squirm in place. “Imagine that,” she continued, leaning in with a taunting smile. “You, on your knees, pleading for mercy, actually asking for it there instead. Because tonight, sweet thing, he might to take mercy on you and do it like my Jake did, right up your naughty little bum.”
Rebecca’s cheeks felt impossibly hot, her entire body prickling with the mix of embarrassment and nervous anticipation Stephanie’s teasing planted in her mind.
Stephanie’s smirk remained firmly in place as she gave Rebecca’s exposed backside a playful slap, the light sting making Rebecca gasp softly, her body tensing instinctively.
“Alright, up you go,” Stephanie commanded, stepping back with a gleam in her eyes. “You’re expected in the living room, and you’d better shower and dress quickly. Don’t take too long, or there’s a spanking in your future. And after the lesson you’ve already had, I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, now would you?”
Rebecca’s cheeks flushed as she scrambled to rise, still feeling the lingering soreness from her punishment and the cooling balm Stephanie had just applied. She glanced at Stephanie, nodding quickly, her heart racing at the subtle warning.
“Good girl,” Stephanie murmured, a hint of amusement still in her tone. “Now, off you go. And remember, we’ll be keeping an eye on the time.”
With that, Stephanie turned and left the room, leaving Rebecca standing there, fully nude, still slightly flustered and eager to avoid any further consequences. She moved quickly to the bathroom, her mind racing as she prepared herself, knowing full well that any delay would bring promised consequences.
Chapter 38: Bedtime
Rebecca’s heart pounded in her chest as she sat on the couch, trying to shift her weight to ease the tender soreness between her legs. The thin whip John had used earlier had left her sensitive and aching, and she could still feel the lingering sting. Each subtle movement reminded her of the punishment, a humiliating spread-lip pussy whipping that had left her raw, embarrassed, and vulnerable.
Across the room, John sat with his book in hand, perfectly composed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Meanwhile, Stephanie sat nearby, reading her own book, though Rebecca could sense the younger woman’s sharp gaze flicking over her stepmother every now and then, as if silently taunting her with the knowledge of what had occurred.
The evening was winding down, and Rebecca prayed silently that, against all odds, she would be allowed to retreat to bed without any further humiliation. But then John set his book down and looked at the clock.
“Almost time for bed,” he announced, his voice calm but commanding. “Rebecca, go and make yourself pretty for me. Come back out when you’re ready.”
Rebecca’s stomach tightened at his words, but she nodded quickly, not daring to hesitate. She stood, her legs feeling wobbly as she made her way to the bedroom, the soreness between her legs making each step a reminder of her submission. She knew exactly what John expected—his favorite babydoll nightie, the pink one that left her feeling exposed and utterly humiliated. And, of course, she couldn’t avoid Stephanie, who was still in the living room, fully aware of what was going on.
Rebecca slipped into the bedroom and changed quickly, the soft, sheer fabric of the babydoll grazing against her punished skin, heightening her awareness of every tender spot. The nightie was barely more than a suggestion of clothing, the translucent material leaving little to the imagination. As she looked at herself in the mirror, her cheeks flushed crimson, and she could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck. But there was no avoiding it. She had to return to the living room.
When she stepped back into the room, it was John’s approving look that met her first—but it was Stephanie’s reaction that made Rebecca’s stomach drop.
Stephanie looked up from her book, a smirk immediately spreading across her face as she took in the sight of Rebecca standing there, blushing and exposed. “Well, look at you,” Stephanie said, her tone dripping with amusement. “Playing dress-up for Daddy, huh? You’re really something, Rebecca.”
Rebecca’s face burned with shame, her hands instinctively tugging at the hem of the nightie, though it did little to cover her. “John asked me to get ready for bed,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She wanted to disappear, to escape the teasing gaze of her stepdaughter, but there was no way out.
Stephanie leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs leisurely as she continued to taunt her. “You must really like it, huh? All dressed up like that, barely anything on… I bet you were just dying to show off for Daddy.” Stephanie’s grin widened.
Rebecca’s humiliation deepened as she stood there, blushing furiously, her legs trembling. The stinging between her thighs from the whip was nothing compared to the emotional discomfort of being ridiculed by Stephanie.
Stephanie continued, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I think you enjoy it. Just look at you—barely able to look me in the eye. Isn’t that right, Rebecca? You like being Daddy’s little toy, don’t you?”
Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat, and she struggled to find her voice. “I… I don’t…” she stammered, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t deny that John’s authority over her left her feeling helpless, embarrassed—and, somewhere deep inside, thrilled by the power he wielded. But admitting it in front of Stephanie? That was unthinkable.
Stephanie wasn’t about to let her off easy, though. “Oh, come on,” she pressed, standing up from her chair and walking over to where Rebecca stood, her eyes full of playful cruelty. “You wouldn’t dress like that if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. I bet you’re already excited for what’s going to happen next, even after that little session earlier.”
Rebecca’s heart raced as Stephanie circled her, her gaze inspecting every inch of her exposed body. “I mean, just look at you—so eager to please. And after a pussy whipping? Impressive.”
John chuckled softly from his seat, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “She’s learning well, Stephanie. Sometimes a reminder of who’s in charge is all it takes.”
Rebecca’s face was on fire as Stephanie’s teasing continued. The younger woman stepped closer, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “I bet it stings when you walk.”
Rebecca’s lips parted, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. She stood frozen in place, utterly mortified by the combination of John’s quiet approval and Stephanie’s relentless teasing. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of the nightie, but no amount of tugging could hide her humiliation.
Finally, John stood, placing his book aside and walking over to where the two women stood. He gently placed a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder, his touch both comforting and possessive. “That’s enough for now,” he said, though the amusement in his voice was still evident. “Come along, Rebecca. You’ve got more to make up for tonight.”
Rebecca nodded quickly, her legs trembling as she led the way toward the bedroom, her mind racing with a mixture of shame, arousal, and apprehension. She could feel Stephanie’s eyes boring into her back, knowing that her stepdaughter was thoroughly entertained by the sight of her being so humiliated and vulnerable.
“Don’t forget to try offering him your bum hole!” Stephanie cried after her, “helpfully”.
[Continued in Part 25]
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