She ran back to the door, anxiety evident on her face—only to find DJ had locked it. She pounded her fists on it. “Let me in, damnit!”
“Awfully pushy for someone in your position, Morgan. Now the price of entry went up—by your bra.”
“What! Fuck no! Open the door—people can see me!”
“Still haven’t learned eh? How much harder do you want to make this? How much harder do you want to make all the guys watching you throw a bratty little tantrum?”
Her breasts nearly jiggled out of her bra as she stamped her foot. “Fine!” Hastily, she reached behind her to unclasp her bra, releasing those big tits of hers from their confines. They looked amazing—not just “amazing for her age,” just amazing, even with the peephole distorting their proportions.
DJ flipped open the mail slot. “Deposit here,” he said through the slit.
With a little effort, she forced the garment through the narrow hole. “There, now let me in! I’m going to get arrested!”
“Still haven’t paid the initial price. This time the penalty is your panties.”
“This isn’t funny any more! Open the goddamn door!” she hissed through the narrow slit.
DJ just whistled casually, disinterested. A minute later, her beige panties slid in through the mail slot. “Now open the door! DJ, please! I’m naked on my front porch, for Chrissake!” Through the peephole, he saw her audience now included a middle-aged couple getting out of their car on the next driveway over.
“You’re a slow learner, Morgzy. You paid the penalties, but you still haven’t given me my due.”
“What do you want me to…?” Comprehension dawned on her. “Open the door… master.”
“That’s the best you got?” he scoffed.
He strained to see her as she knelt down, her voice lowered in humility, but projected loud enough to be audible through the door. “Please, master, let your slut into your house? She promises to behave from now on.”
The door swung open to reveal a very relieved-looking naked woman. “Morgan, how good of you to come.” He patted that lovely ass of hers as she scurried in.
“Damnit, DJ—I wanted you to fuck me, not expose me to the entire fucking neighborhood!”
“Well, this isn’t about what you want. I tried to be pleasant and you blew it. Now we do things my way. Next time you decide to get flippant with me, I’m going to be joining you on the porch, and we come in when you finish blowing me. Choose your next words carefully.”
She glared a moment, then sighed at the futility of trying to oppose him. The glare didn’t touch her eyes though. “Very well, master. What would you like me to do?”
“I’d like my room back, for one. You can thank me for letting you use it while I was away.”
“Right away, master. Thank you for letting me use your room.”
“Make sure you don’t burn my dinner while you’re at it. Can you handle two things at once?”
“Of course, master. Dinner’s almost done.”
“And what happened to ‘sir’? Trying to butter me up for something?” Morgan’s cheeks reddened, and she mumbled something incomprehensible. “Louder, slut.”
“I said ‘master’ turns me on more.”
DJ laughed. “Well fine, have it your way. Now get to work. I’m horny as hell, but I don’t fuck the help until their chores are done. When’s Lauren due home?”
“I told her to be back before dinner, so sometime between now and six-ish.”
“Well, if you want any piece of my cock, you better have your chores done before then, because if she’s home and you’re not ready, she can fulfill my needs as well or better than you.”
Maybe it was the idea of him fucking her daughter, maybe it was the threat of sucking off her step-son on the front porch, or maybe it was eagerness to get her own pussy stuffed, but she leapt into action. He could hear her throwing open drawers in her haste to clear space for him, scurrying to and from the guest room as she exchanged their belongings.
DJ flipped through the pictures Lauren, Brianne and Jody had been sending him, day-dreaming about what he was going to do with them this time around. If anything. Maybe they weren’t as eager as Morgan? He’d find out first—no forcing himself on women. No life-ruining. Having some plans in place wouldn’t hurt, if they were.
Morgan came back in front of him a short while later, smiling at his hand idly rubbing his erection. “All that for me, master?” she asked, smile on her face.
“I didn’t hear the vacuum running, so no, right now it’s for Lauren.”
“The cleaning woman was just here two days ago.”
“Oh, did I say I wanted you to vacuum, or did I ask if you’d hired someone to do the job your lazy ass should’ve been doing?”
She didn’t waste time replying—she just ran back and started vacuuming the master bedroom. When she finished there, he had her do her new room (“don’t you have any pride?”), then dust, then change his sheets.
“I don’t want to sleep on all your other guys’ cum stains.”
“There haven’t been any other guys!” He believed her. He’d actually wondered for a long time if Morgan was actually a closeted lesbian or something when he’d been growing up. It turned out she was just a prude—until he let her out of the bottle.
“Yeah, like I’m gonna take your word for it, slut.” He waved his hand dismissively; she ran off to change the sheets. Truthfully, he was stalling; he really wanted to fuck Lauren, and toying with Morgan, treating her like his servant, obviously got her off, same as it did with… that other girl he was refusing to think about. The longer he dragged it out with her, the better it would be when he let the slut have it.
She was back, though it took her longer than he’d expected, and she stood in front of him grinning smugly. “Sheets changed, master.”
“Good—now give the bathroom a once over.”
“I just did.”
“Shower, toilet, sink—the whole thing?”
“Yes master.”
“Oh.” He’d only been thinking one step ahead. “Um…”
“I’ve cleaned the blinds, fluffed the pillows, removed my knick-knacks, changed the cover on the comforter, organized your clothes neatly into drawers, vacuumed, dusted and otherwise made the room perfect—and checked on dinner.”
DJ looked at the image on his phone’s screen—Lauren in a schoolgirl-style outfit on her bed with her legs spread, her hand down her skirt and parting her labia for him. On one side of her was Brianne on her hands and knees facing away from the camera, wearing the same—though the skirt was pulled down to her knees, her ass framed neatly by a simple white thong. On the other knelt Jody, dressed like others but with her blouse unbuttoned and spread to display those magnificent breasts of hers.
Then he looked at Morgan—naked, arms folded submissively behind her back, nipples hardened by the thought of fucking him. She was ready for him, he had no doubt; DJ had long since learned to recognize the scent of an aroused woman. Besides, with that look on her face, that annoyed, displeased look, she was unmistakably his step-mother, and years of wanting to stick it to her hadn’t evaporated in a week.
Lauren could wait.
“On your knees, slut.”
She knelt beside the couch, frowning. “C’mon, don’t make me…”
“Make you what?”
“You know. Blow you. Just fuck me again. Please?”
“That’s how you try to get me to fuck you? ‘Please?’ You obviously forgot everything I taught you about proper begging. No worries—I’m a patient man. I’ll teach you again. Now…” he dropped his pants and waved his erection in front of her. “Get to work, slut.”