Good Boy, Daddy Chapter 9

A young female supremacist makes her stepfather prove her theories right.

I woke to the ache in my groin before I opened my eyes. The pain was its own alarm clock, sharp and fresh, a memory written directly into tissue. I rolled onto my back and the dull, swelling pressure in my balls spread up into my stomach. My mind did that little dance of denial and justification, remembering exactly how Kila had left me in the hallway, then trying to wish it away like a child waking from nightmare.

It hadn’t been a nightmare, though. The faint throb at the base of my cock, the lingering stickiness in my boxers, the phantom scent of Kila’s cunt on my upper lip: all of it was as real as the sunlight splashed across the ceiling above our bed. Bryn stirred next to me, pulling my body against hers as she woke.

“Morning, sleepy head,” she whispered. I plastered a fake smile on my face and rolled over. My wife snuggled against me, twisting a knife into my heart. “You got up in the middle of the night. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” My mind cast about for some lie that wouldn’t sound obvious. “Hungry.”

“Midnight snacking isn’t healthy,” Bryn said, sitting up and resting her palm on my chest. “You aren’t hiding something? Bounced checks? Bills stacking up? Health problem?”

“None of that,” I said truthfully. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it. “Promise.”

I lay there for a few minutes, willing the pain to subside and the lust to recede, but it only made the tension worse. If I waited too long, Kila would come find me. If I went too soon, it looked like I was eager for the next round. I’d spent the last twenty years making every decision with an eye to what would make my family happy, what would avoid conflict, what would make Bryn love me more or keep Kila on good terms. Now, I couldn’t even decide how long to lie in bed before submitting myself to my stepdaughter’s whims. I was paralyzed by the prospect of not pleasing her enough.

Eventually, the hiss of the shower from the master bathroom gave me a countdown. Bryn’s routine was surgical: wake, pee, shower, lotion, then coffee. Fifteen minutes tops, every morning. That meant I had about twelve minutes to report for duty or risk whatever new punishment Kila could dream up. I slid out of bed, careful not to wake Bryn, and pulled on a shirt and loose sweats. My balls were too swollen for anything tighter. I hesitated at the door, hand on the knob, and told myself once again that this was the last time, the absolute last time. This was just an experiment in seeing how far Kila would go before she got bored.

Kila’s door was slightly ajar, as if she knew I was coming, as if she invited me to come to her. I stood outside the frame, fists at my sides, and tried to will the erection out of my body. No luck. My cock was half-hard already, a Pavlovian response to her presence, the anticipation as humiliating as the act itself.

“Kila?” I whispered, barely audible over the shower noise.

Her voice was immediate, bright, and cruelly awake. “Come in, Daddy.”

The room was hot and bright, the curtains open to the full force of the morning sun. Kila stood in the middle of the carpet, barefoot, arms loose at her sides. She wore the same thin, sleeveless nightshirt that barely reached the top of her thighs, and the translucent cotton clung to her skin with every breath. Her nipples poked through the fabric, large and brown, like punctuation marks daring me to look. She watched me from under her hair, the Artemis tattoo on her calf staring back from the edge of her hem.

“Lock the door,” she said. Her voice was the same as always, but the command in it was absolute.

The click of the lock rang with the finality of the grave. I swallowed hard, closing my eyes, as I pressed by back against the door. A throaty chuckle told me Kila knew exactly how uncomfortable I was. I felt her presence in front of me, breasts lightly touching my chest.

“How’s your morning, Daddy?” she asked, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper that made my cock ache.

“Fine,” I managed, trying not to wince as my balls throbbed.

She must have seen it, because she reached down and pressed the heel of her palm gently into my groin. I recoiled, but not fast enough to avoid the pain. Kila squeezed and giggled when I groaned.

“You’re still sore,” she observed, as if it was a curiosity rather than the aftermath of her own violence.

“Yes,” I said. “Very.”

Her knee tapped my balls. Just hard enough that I knew it was there. My lips trembled as dread filled my guts.

“Pow,” she said. “Remember how you feel right now, Daddy.” Her knee pressed deeper. Kila tilted her head, then stepped back and planted her feet shoulder-width apart. She gestured to the floor with a flick of her toes. “On your knees,” she said. “You know the drill.”

I hesitated, just for a split second, but her eyes hardened and the memory of last night’s bruises overrode any resistance I could muster. I knelt, the carpet rough on my skin, and folded my hands at my thighs. I could smell her from this angle, the heat of her body, the sour tang of dried sweat. My cock throbbed, half in pain, half in anticipation.

“Hands behind your back,” Kila said. I obeyed.

She towered over me, all legs and hips and the sharp, wild energy of a woman who has found her calling and intends to wring every drop from it. She let me sit in silence for almost a minute, just long enough for my thighs to start to cramp and the ache in my crotch to become white noise.

“Do you know what day it is?” she asked.

“Monday,” I said, swallowing the word.

“Not the day of the week,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Today is the start of your new education. Yesterday was a test. I wanted to see how much you’d take without breaking.” She smiled, slow and mean. “Turns out the answer is: all of it.” Her palm patted the top of my head. “Good boy, Daddy.”

She remained in front of me, the incarnation of feminine power. The nightshirt did nothing to hide the curve of her mound, the faint waft of musk the emanated from between her legs. My nostrils flared. Cock throbbed. I tilted my head to get my mind clear of Kila’s pussy, only to find her tits less than an inch from my face. My stepdaughter smirked down at me.

“You know about the First Principle, right?” she asked.

I shook my head, lost.

“Women are superior,” she recited, as if from scripture. “In the evolution of sex, all creatures began as female, capable of replicating life. Humans begin existence in the womb as female, only becoming male when the inferiority of their chromosomes direct their growth. ” Her hand cupped my chin, forcing me to look at her. “You agree with the First Principle, don’t you, Daddy?”

I nodded, the word stuck in my throat.

“Good,” Kila said. She leaned over me, breasts swaying pendulously in front of my face. “Now, today, we learn the Second Principle. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I said, even though every cell in my body wanted to say no.

“Men are biologically inferior to women in every way that matters.” She paused to let that sink in, her arms crossed again, hips cocked. “Maleness evolved to fit the female’s need to genetically strengthen her offspring. In terms of human sexuality, the penis is designed to provide a woman with pleasure while she ensures her offspring are created.” Her eyes searched mine. “Biologically speaking, your only purpose is to give women babies and to help them come. No babies from you, though. I wonder if Mom would say that you’ve fulfilled your obligation to give her orgasms as often as she desires.”

The humiliation burned hotter than the pain. I wanted to look away. To break eye contact and tell her that her theories were worthless. But I couldn’t. Her dark eyes held mine in an almost hypnotic grip.

“Repeat it,” she commanded. “Say it back to me. Loud enough that you remember it.”

I licked my lips, my mouth desert dry. “Men are biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. Our sex… exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure and, uh, ensure the creation of a new generation.”

Kila grinned, exposing her teeth. “Almost perfect. Try again. And this time, make it personal.” Her hands rested on my shoulders. Slid over my skin to hold my neck. “I need to hear you say that you are inferior, Daddy. I need to know you embrace the truth of your existence.”

I tried to swallow. “I am biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation.”

Kila’s stood, hands on her hips now, the nightshirt rising so the curve of her pussy was eye-level, the darkness of her slit visible through the paper-thin cotton. “Good boy,” she said. “Now, you’ll repeat it every time you edge. No coming until I say you’re allowed. Understood?”

“Understood,” I said, voice cracking.

She reached down and brushed her fingertips across my cheek, soft and lingering. “Take your dick out,” she said, her voice flat and certain. “Stroke it while you say the Second Principle. Don’t come.”

I wanted to run. To dash out the door and down the stairs, take off down the street until I was free of this nightmare. But I’d come back to it, wouldn’t I? That’s what kept me here. Something inside of me believed what she said. Felt it resonate as a great truth of the universe. And now that I knew the truth, I would never be free of it.

The memory of last night floated through my mind. The hunger for my stepdaughter’s wet heat. The way her body slithered against mine. With shaking hands, I slid my sweats down and fished my cock from my underwear. It was already hard, the pain in my balls making the blood flow almost too intense to bear. I wrapped my fist around the shaft and started to stroke, slow and careful, afraid of what would happen if I lost control.

“Look at me,” Kila said. I looked up, her face a mask of delight and contempt. She sat on the edge of her bed, spread her legs, then hooked her thumbs into the armholes of her nightshirt and pulled them outward, the fabric stretching taut over her breasts. “Say the First and Second Principle,” she purred. “Every word. While you edge.”

“I began life as female until my inferior chromosomes turned me male,” I recited, the words coming in jagged bursts as my fist moved over my cock. “My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation.” A moan punctuated the statement. “I am biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation.”

Her fingers traced the delicate lips of her pussy. Teased it open to glisten. “Again,” she whispered. “Faster.”

I sped my hand, the pressure in my groin building. The pain was almost sweet now, a counterpoint to the humiliation in my chest. All I had to do was surrender. It was so easy not to fight it. Just be what Kila wanted me to be. Just give in to her… superiority. Supremacy.

“I began life as female until my inferior chromosomes turned me male. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation. I am biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation.”

“Is that how you want to live?” Kila asked, her voice low and intimate. She turned her head and gave me side-eye. “Tell the truth, Daddy. Do you want me to teach you what it means to be inferior? To truly worship women because they are inherently superior to you in every way?”

I nodded. “Yes.” At that moment, I would have agreed to be eaten by crocodiles. Anything for her. For Kila.

She grabbed the back of my head and forced my face into her thigh, the scent of her pussy flooding my nose. She held me there, my mouth pressed to her skin, while my hand worked up and down the length of my cock. “Say it while you do this,” she commanded, her breath hot on the crown of my skull.

The words came out muffled, but I repeated the Principle anyway, my tongue and lips moving against her thigh. Kila laughed, a deep, throaty sound, and rocked her hips so the curve of her pussy mashed into my mouth.

“Good boy,” she said. “That’s a lesson for today. You’re going to kneel and repeat that for me every morning. And you’ll never come unless I say so. Understood?”

“Yes,” I gasped, the pressure in my balls about to detonate.

She pressed my face harder into her crotch, the heat of her cunt radiating through the nightshirt. “You’re pathetic, Daddy,” she said, the contempt now almost loving. “You’ll do this every day for me, won’t you?”

I nodded, my hand trembling on my cock, desperate for release. “Yes. Please.”

Kila leaned back, then crouched until her eyes were level with mine. “Not today,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Today, you edge. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll let you come.” She pushed two fingers under my chin, forcing my head up. “Now, crawl out of my room like the pathetic, inferior scrap of flesh you are. Go downstairs and make breakfast for Mom and me. Nothing for you. You’re going to fast today to prove you’re worth my attention.”

I scrambled to my feet, the pain and pleasure warring inside my body, the words of the Second Principle ringing in my ears. Backed out of Kila’s bedroom until I was pressed against the far wall. My cock begged for attention, sore balls demanded relief. I groaned, knowing this was exactly what my stepdaughter wanted me to feel.

“Good morning, Daddy,” Kila called, leaning against the door casing. “Did you get a good sleep last night?” She laughed, knowing her voice would carry to her mother. “Be a good boy, Daddy,” she said, her hand pumping in front of her like she was jerking off. “Maybe I’ll let you prove your worth after Mom goes to work.”

I slumped against the wall, waiting for the shower to finish. My body shook, my mind emptied out, but a single thought ran on repeat, like an engine with no off switch: Men are biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation.

Female Supremacy. The words hung in my mind as I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen. My body worked automatically, putting bread in the toaster. Scrambling eggs. Starting the coffee pot.

“Morning, Daddy,” Kila said, bouncing down the stairs. It seemed that she had an infinite supply of indecently short shorts, today’s pair were a shiny black material. A generic baseball jersey was unbuttoned halfway, threatening to spill her tits at any moment. She wrapped her arms around me from behind as I scooped eggs onto two plates. One hand dropped to squeeze my cock. “Still want to fuck me?”

“Always,” I whispered. “Your mother is already out of the shower…”

“Then I still have a few minutes to play with you.” She laughed and leaned back against the bar. “On your knees, Daddy. Show me how you obey your superior stepdaughter.”

I obeyed without hesitation. Shame burned on my face, but it really was easier to not think. Just obey. Just do what Kila wanted.

“You’re going to sniff between my legs while you jerk off,” she said. “You’ll breathe as deep as you can. Every time you stop, I’ll punish you. You want to stop, Daddy?”

I shook my head, unable to form words.

She laughed, not unkindly. “You’ll say it. ‘No, Kila. I want to sniff my daughter’s pussy while I jerk off like a loser.’”

My face burned, but I did as she commanded. “No, Kila. I want to sniff your pussy while I jerk off like a loser.”

“Good boy, Daddy,” she said. She grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face between her legs. Her hips pumped slowly. “Jerk that cock like the dirty little boy you really are. Maybe I’ll let you eat my pussy today. Maybe I’ll just bust your balls again. You’ll beg for either one, won’t you?”

She ground my face into her crotch. The heat was immediate, the scent of her burned into my nose. My lungs filled with the smell, and the pain in my balls spiked. I could barely see, my vision blurred with tears. She held me there, grinding my nose into her slit.

“Breathe,” she said. “Breathe deep, Daddy. This is what controls you now.” The smirk returned to her face. “Learn the scent of your owner, like a good little puppy.”

I sucked in air, desperate and shuddering, the scent overwhelming. My hand jerked my cock at half-speed, the sensation amplified by my helplessness. Kila ground her hips against my face, and I felt her wetness smear over my upper lip. The taste was sour and electric. I wanted to die, but my body only wanted to come.

When I tried to pull away, just enough to breathe, her fingers curled into my hair and yanked me back, hard. “I didn’t say you could stop, did I?”

“No,” I gasped.

She pressed harder, mashing my nose into her clit. “You’re going to remember this smell for the rest of your life,” she hissed. “When you jerk off next week, next month, when you’re old and alone and pathetic, you’ll remember that you were owned. That your daughter made you do this.”

Kila pulled my face away suddenly, the absence of heat like a slap. “Look at me,” she demanded.

I did, my eyes watering, nose running.

She showed me the plastic baggie filled with the panties she’d made me come in. “You see these?” she said, voice icy. “That’s evidence, Daddy. If you ever try to back out of this, I’ll show them to Mom. Or to your friends. Or mail them to your boss. Think I’m joking?”

“No,” I whispered, barely audible.

She crouched, her pussy still inches from my face, and stared into my soul. “You belong to me now. And if you ever disobey, I’ll ruin you for real. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

Kila grabbed my cock in one hand, squeezing it until I whimpered. “Now, finish what you started. Stroke yourself while you beg to serve me.”

My hand was numb, my spirit hollowed out, but I jerked my cock anyway, the ache in my balls so intense I almost sobbed. My voice came out flat, robotic. “Please, Kila,” I said. “Let me keep serving you. Please let me sniff you and jerk off for you. Please don’t stop.”

“Louder,” she said, her fingers never leaving my hair.

I raised my voice. “Please. I need to serve you. I want to jerk off to your pussy every day. I’ll do anything. Please don’t stop using me.”

She let go of my head, satisfied, and stroked my cock a few times for good measure. “Pathetic,” she said, but there was a softness in her voice now, as if she pitied me. “Now, edge. Get as close as you can and hold it until I tell you otherwise.”

I did, my body trembling, my mind dissolving. I kept my hand moving, kept my nose pressed to the damp flesh between her legs, and waited for the next command. I didn’t care if Bryn caught me. I didn’t care about anything. I needed this. I needed Kila.

“You can stop,” Kila said, her voice bored and vacant. “Finger-fuck me, Daddy. Make me come before Mom comes downstairs and catches you.”

My fingers slid into her wetness without hesitation, drawn by instinct and fear. The heat of her cunt wrapped around me as I curled two fingers inside her. Kila’s hips bucked, her hands gripping the counter edge as she spread her legs wider.

“Deeper,” she commanded. “Make it count, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

I plunged my fingers deeper, curling them to find that spot that would make her shudder. Her wetness coated my hand as I worked her, my mind barely functioning beyond the animal need to please her. With my other hand, I kept stroking my cock, edging myself as instructed, the twin sensations of pleasure and shame making me dizzy.

Kila’s breathing quickened, her thighs tensing around my wrist. “That’s it,” she hissed. “Faster. Harder.”

The sound of the footsteps upstairs cut through my haze like a knife. Bryn would be down in minutes. Panic surged through me, but Kila just laughed, low and wicked.

“Better hurry, Daddy,” she taunted. “Mom’s almost done. Don’t want her to find you finger-banging her daughter.”

I worked my fingers frantically, pressing against her front wall, watching her face for signs she was close. My own cock throbbed painfully, but I didn’t dare stop edging, the consequences would be too severe. The clock in my head ticked down with every second, each footstep upstairs a countdown to disaster.

Kila grabbed my hair, yanking my face close to hers. “Say it again,” she demanded. “The Second Principle. While you finger-fuck me.”

“I am biologically inferior to women in every way that matters,” I gasped, my voice strained with fear and arousal. “My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure, and to ensure the creation of a new generation.”

Her pussy clenched around my fingers as I recited the words, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. I could feel her getting closer, the slick walls pulsing against my hand. The baseball jersey opened, releasing her tits. The big brown nipples were rigid. My mouth watered for her.

“Again,” she commanded, grinding against my palm.

I repeated the words, my voice breaking as I heard the bedroom door open upstairs. Kila heard it too and smiled, her face flushed with arousal and the thrill of danger. She laughed.

“Make me come now,” she ordered, “or I’ll tell her everything.”

All thought of shame was gone as I jammed my fingers deeper inside her, curling them mercilessly to rake her front wall, my thumb sawing over her clit with desperate, frantic pressure. Kila’s thighs clamped around my wrist, holding me captive between her legs as she jerked and bucked against my hand, her heat and wetness enveloping me completely. My cock pulsed and throbbed, the ache in my balls so intense I thought I might pass out, but I didn’t dare stop, not even for a second. I could taste the sweat on my upper lip, mingled with the tang of her arousal left on my face from earlier.

She leaned back on the counter, arching her chest so her bare tits heaved with every breath, the jersey now wide open and hanging off her shoulders. Her eyes had gone glassy and predatory at the same time, never breaking contact with mine, locking me in this awful, intoxicating power loop where her pleasure was all that mattered and my only purpose was the service of her body. I could see the muscles in her stomach flutter with each contraction, her whole frame straining toward climax.

“Harder, Daddy,” she groaned, and I obeyed, shoving two, then three fingers inside her, grinding my palm against her mound as her hips jerked forward. I was vaguely aware of footsteps thumping down the hall upstairs, but it only made me move faster, fear fueling my need to please her, to finish before we were discovered and exposed. I felt my own balls draw up, the threat of imminent orgasm dangerously close, but I kept my hand moving, kept my nose pressed to her sex, desperate to do what she demanded.

Kila’s hand found the back of my head again, fingers tangling in my hair, and she mashed my face to her cunt. “Say it,” she growled, voice low and guttural. “Second Principle. Right now. You don’t stop until you make me come.”

I did, choking out the words between gasps and ragged breaths, my mouth pressed to the slick, fever-hot skin between her thighs. “I am biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female. To give pleasure and to ensure the creation of a new generation.” My words smeared together, slurred by my own mortification and need, but I repeated them louder, barely able to hear myself over the blood pounding in my ears.

Her body locked up, and with a strangled, feral sound she went rigid, her pussy squeezing down on my fingers so violently I thought she would break them. Kila’s teeth dug into her lower lip, stifling the scream of her climax, but her eyes told the whole story: triumph, cruelty, satisfaction. I felt the gush of slick heat coat my whole hand as she came, grinding herself down on my wrist. She forced my face tighter to her, smearing my nose and mouth with her juices until I was breathless, vision swimming. For a moment I thought she might actually suffocate me, and some deep, scared part of me wondered if she wanted to.

She held me there, trapped, while the aftershocks shook her. I could see the pulse in her neck, the little twitches of afterglow in her thighs, and the wild, dangerous look in her eyes as she forced me to watch every second of her orgasm. It was the most intense thing I’d ever witnessed, and I was part of it only as a tool. I couldn’t stop shaking, my own release so close it was torture.

At the last second, she let go of my hair, shoving my head away from her cunt with a dismissive, almost contemptuous flick of her wrist. “Look at me,” she hissed. I did, face wet, nose tingling, and stared up at her as she glared down the length of her body at me. My hand was still inside her, and she squeezed down with her inner muscles, making me whimper.

With deliberate slowness, Kila pulled my hand free, holding it up so I could see how wet and filthy I’d made myself. “You did good, Daddy,” she whispered, voice so soft and mean it cut deeper than a slap. “You get to live another day as my simpering little lapdog.”

She took my chin in her hand and forced my mouth open. “Taste,” she said. I stuck out my tongue, and she smeared her juices over it with her fingers. I gagged, but she didn’t care. “That’s the taste of power,” she said. “You’ll never forget it.”

Staring down at me, Kila buttoned the baseball jersey. Smirked and shook her head. I could read her thoughts. I was pathetic. Weak. Every bit as inferior as she said I was.

“Good boy,” she said casually, as if I hadn’t just been on my knees finger-fucking her while my wife prepared to come downstairs. “Now serve breakfast and remember: You don’t eat today. That’s your proof that you accept my authority over your life.”

I tucked my aching cock back into my pants and stood on shaky legs, the ghost of her wetness still coating my fingers despite the paper towel. The eggs had cooled, the toast was barely warm, but I arranged the plates anyway, trying to make it look like I hadn’t just been sexually servicing my stepdaughter. Bryn’s footsteps on the stairs sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I turned to the sink, washing my hands vigorously, trying to scrub away the scent of Kila’s arousal.

“Something smells good,” Bryn called as she entered the kitchen. She was dressed for work, hair still damp from the shower, smelling of vanilla and coconut. She kissed my cheek and squeezed my arm, oblivious to what had just happened. “You’re so sweet to make breakfast.”

“It’s nothing,” I mumbled, unable to look her in the eye.

Kila sat at the counter, scrolling through her phone as if she hadn’t just climaxed on my fingers. “Morning, Mom,” she said brightly. “Dad made eggs.”

I placed their plates in front of them, my stomach growling despite the nausea churning in my guts. Bryn noticed immediately. Worry drew her brows together.

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked, concern in her voice.

Before I could answer, Kila jumped in. “Dad’s doing intermittent fasting,” she said. “Right, Daddy? He was just telling me about it.”

Self-loathing raged inside me as I nodded, hating myself for the ease with which I embraced her lie. “Yeah, trying something new.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” Bryn said, patting my hand. “You need your strength.” She wiggled in her chair and looked at me shyly. “I might want to watch you do more pushups.”

If only she knew how much strength I’d need to survive my stepdaughter’s plans for me. I poured coffee, moving around the kitchen on autopilot, my mind still reeling from what had happened. The words of the Second Principle echoed in my head, a mantra I couldn’t shake.

Kila ate slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving me as I busied myself cleaning up. Every time Bryn looked away, Kila would lick her fork suggestively or spread her legs just enough for me to see the outline of her pussy through her shorts. My cock remained half-hard, trapped in my sweats, a constant reminder of my weakness.

“So what are you two up to today?” Bryn asked, sipping her coffee.

“Just hanging around the house,” Kila said. “Maybe Dad can help me with some heavy lifting in my room. I want to rearrange the furniture.”

The implication was clear. As soon as Bryn left for work, I would be at Kila’s mercy again. I blinked at my coffee cup, searching for answers. Found none.

“That’s nice of you,” Bryn said, smiling at me. “Always taking care of our girl.”

I managed a weak smile in return, guilt churning in my stomach. Raised my coffee cup in mock salute. “Anything for Kila,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. The smirk returned to my stepdaughter’s face and she raised an eyebrow.

“Anything can mean a lot,” she said. I watched Bryn’s eyes slide from me to her daughter and back. Panic hit my gut and I knew she had to know what was going on. “Good thing I’m not the kind of daughter to take advantage something like that.”

Bryn finished her breakfast, kissed us both goodbye, and headed out the door. The moment it closed behind her, Kila’s demeanor changed. The sweet, innocent daughter act dropped away, replaced by the dominant, cruel woman who owned me.

“Clean up,” she ordered, sliding off her stool. “Then come upstairs. We have work to do.” She stretched, her jersey riding up to expose her midriff. “And Daddy? Bring the plastic wrap from the kitchen. I have plans for you today.”

I watched her saunter away, hips swaying, the promise of fresh torment hanging in the air. My balls ached, my cock throbbed, and my empty stomach churned with a mixture of dread and anticipation. I knew I should run, should pack a bag and disappear, should do anything other than follow her upstairs with plastic wrap in hand.

Instead, I cleared the dishes, wiped down the counter, and grabbed the roll of plastic wrap from the drawer. My hands were steady now, my mind clear. This was my life now. Owned by my stepdaughter, serving her needs, living according to her principles.

As I climbed the stairs, the Second Principle repeated in my head, a truth I could no longer deny: I am biologically inferior to women in every way that matters. My sex exists to serve the needs of the superior female.

I knocked on Kila’s door, plastic wrap in hand, and waited for permission to enter.