Revenge: Step-mom's Contract
As I avoided the more aggressive, cougar-type customers, I worked on seeing how close I could get to one of the pretty hairdressers closer to my age. My stepmother, however, had other plans for me.
I have to say that my dad must have had a thing for the bimbo look, because that's just what he married. My stepmom is a bottle-blonde, who stands about 5'4", has a 36-24-36 hourglass figure, and huge EE knockers. Her hair and makeup was always top-notch, but over done for my taste, which accented her tanning bed skin and golden contacts for her eyes. I'm more attracted to slim, petite girls, but damn! Was there a contest for hottest bimbo no one told me about?
I'll admit that it took me into the second week of working, to get into the new routine, so that I wasn't having to stay late, in order to get everything done. What started as a written copy of my duties, posted on her office door, became a list of things she didn't want me to do, as well as a list of guidelines for me to follow. By the time she was done, it was pretty extensive and quite ridiculous. But it didn't stop there. By the end of week 3, she'd decided I should not only have an official copy of the duties and guidelines, she would write it up as a contract for me to sign, for full compliance. She gave it to me at the end of that Friday, telling me to read it carefully and sign it.
I let out a short laugh and, without thinking asked, "What if I don't want to sign it?" In reply, she narrowed her eyes at me and said, "Your 18 now. I'm your boss, as well as your stepmom. Not only do I own you here at work, I own you at home, too. If i have to fire you, I'll also make sure your dad kicks you out of the house! So sign the f-ing contract."
Shaken, I replied, "I'll get it back to you Monday. Is that okay?"
To that, she rolled her eyes at me, told me, "Fine. Whatever," and went back into her office.
Embarrassment and rage caused me to avoid her at home that weekend. But I was also studying the contract. It contained petty things: I had to clock in the exact minute of my shift. I couldn't be even one minute late coming back from lunch. I couldn't use my phone at all, even on my lunch break. I couldn't take a day off. I couldn't call in sick. And more. Plus, any breach of contract, or job not done to her satisfaction, docked my pay. I couldn't help thinking that prisoners in a Russian gulag got better treatment than this!
So, watching TV in my room, wrapped up in worry about this contract thing, I noticed a commercial about a web service that proof-reads submitted work for spelling, grammar, and punctuation mistakes, as well as checks word choice and stuff like that. Pretty cool, if you're a writer, but not my thing. but it gave me an idea. I reasoned that, if people don't like to re-read their own writing, resulting in all those mistakes, a person that wrote a contract wouldn't want to re-read it when given it back, as they were the author, so already knew what was in it. Hmmm... Would stepmom be inclined to read the contract again? She wrote it. Why would she want to re-read it? And more importantly, would she notice if I changed a few things around?
Time for revenge.
Step 1: I took the time to re-write the entire document, making sure the font and formatting were the same, and made my changes. I altered the language that nullified most of the extreme restrictions and gave me back my sick days, making the contract a reasonable document I would be okay signing. I was really happy with it. But I kept coming back to her threat to get me kicked out, and I couldn't just leave it there.
I craftily added a few extra lines, signed it, and was ready for phase two on Monday morning. In order to win, I couldn't just leave it on her desk. She had to sign it and give me a xerox copy.
As soon as she'd hung up her coat, I walked into her office and presented her with my new baby, opened to the second page. "Here's the contract. I signed it. Would you mind signing it, too, so we can be done with this?" I said, trying to sound defeated and annoyed.
As soon as she'd signed it, she started to put it away, so I quickly asked her to make me a copy. She gave me an exasperated look, but copied it using the machine in the corner of her office. Step 2 complete.
Practically throwing them at me, she told me to get clocked in, "You don't want to be late, do you?"
"No problem," I smiled back at her. Then I asked, "See you back here in your office when I clock out for lunch, right?"
"What are you talking about?"
I just threw, "What? You didn't read the contract?" over my shoulder as I left to start my day.
I didn't hear from her all morning. So, at lunch, I went to her office.
Her - You think you're really funny making those changes to the contract, huh?
Me - Well...
Her - Well? I tell you "well." (tearing up the contract) Well, we are going to redo the contract, so that it reads right. Well, you're going to sign it like a good little boy. And well, you're going to do as I say, if you want to keep your job and live in our house. That's well for you!
Me - Actually, don't forget I have a copy of the signed contract, too. And I think that if I went to dad with it, he might not believe you weren't serious about this. After all, you did sign it.
Her - There's no way you can make me do that stuff!
Me - I don't know. It is a legal document.
Her - Urgh! Get out of my office!
I could see the fear on her face and the wheels turning in her mind, as she thought about the situation. Is it really a binding, legal document? What if my I tell my dad about it? How could she wiggle out of this? Was there a loophole?
I knew I had her. She had no choice but to do what was in the contract. you see, I KNEW she would hold me to every letter of the contract, legal or not. So, I changed its terms to my favor, banking that she wouldn't read it. And she didn't. Now, she has to abide by the new terms: free lunch-hour BJs every day of the work-week!
It was like something out of a porno, as I came around her desk and gently pushed her back into her chair. Pushing her chair back into the wall, so she had no where left to go, I reached down and pushed her knees together and straddled them. She was holding onto the arms of her cushy office chair and leaning her head back as far as she that wall would allow, trying to avoid what she knew was coming next.
She sputtered in protest (a mix of "No," "You're not going to," "What do you think you're" and "this is totally inappropriate"), as I unbuckled my pants and let down the zipper. Her eyes went from angry and worried to wide open, as my cock sprang free, pointing directly at her. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. She began to shake her head, "No. Look. This is just SO inappropriate. No. Put that thing away." So, I reached down and ran my fingers into her hair, grabbing a big handful. I pulled her head forward, forcing the head of my penis into her pursed lips, as she tried to push me away, protesting, "What the hell do you think you're doing? This is totally inappropriate! What would your father say?"
I let up slightly, saying, "You mean the guy I'll show the contract to? The guy that will throw you out of the house, when he finds out about that contract?"
At that moment, her gaze broke free of the dick trying to invade her face, and she looked up at me with furious slitted eyes. She opened her mouth, to express her annoyance, intending on flying into a tirade of verbal abuse, and relaxed her arms and shoulders.
That was the opportunity I was looking for: Revenge step 3!
In one motion, I quickly brushed her hands away and pushed my cock into her open mouth, pulling her forward. Then, as she pulled back, I et her pull me forward, until her head was buried in the padding on the back of her chair and her chair pushed back against the wall. Putting a knee onto one arm-rest, I climbed up onto the chair, pinning her. I pushed hard into her, using my weight and leverage, thrusting deeper into her skull. I kept this up until she'd swallowed my dick all the way down her throat, lips mashed against the base of my cock, enjoying the unique feeling.
I grunted as I thrust my dick down her throat, as if I could forcibly skull-fuck her all day. "Do you like it like this, or do you want to give me head like a good little girl?" I asked, throwing her words back at her.
She shook her head.
"Are you going to comply with the contract?"
"So, if I let you up, you'll give me a nice, wet blowie, right?"
She rolled her eyes, but nodded again.
I slowly took my dick out of her mouth. As soon as it was free, she took it in her hands, and I stepped back, standing just in front of her chair.
"I'm not really very good at this kind of thing. I choke really easily," she began.
"Oh, no. you don't get to get away with that! All the time I had my dick down you're throat, you didn't choke a bit - not one gag or cough. You may not be very good at it, but you're going to learn. And, with all the practice you're going to get at lunch time every day, you're going to get REALLY good at smoking pole!"
By the end of the week, she really had improved. By the end of the second week, she'd stopped complaining. By the end of the third week, she admitted she liked the taste of cum in her mouth. And, by the end of the month, she was beginning to enjoy giving head and full-on swallowing. By the time my dad found out, we found out that he didn't really care. Sure, he was a little annoyed, but she'd only sucked his dick once before, and it wasn't very good. Now sucking him off was one of her favorite things to do for him. He even told me she was one of the best cocksuckers he's ever encountered!