Annie - Meadhonach

Annie - Meadhonach
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ISBN:  9781907753404
Author:  Surreal
Word Count:  45,249
Format:  eBook



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'That's a real man's cock you have in your hand, Annie,' he told her coarsely, unnecessarily. 'I'm endowed like a shire horse, don't you think? Just run your fingers up and down it. Gauge the size. Tell me how nice and big it is.'
   Annie obediently explored, delving deeper inside his clothing, fumbling with inexperience. 'It does feel big, Dougie,' she whispered. 'It feels very big.'
   He nodded smugly, savouring the innocent honesty of her words, which he welcomed as homage to his manhood. He closed his eyes and rested his head back, wallowing in the glow of victory and the pleasure of her inexpert, fumbling explorations. Her reluctant touch tickled lightly, her fingertips unwittingly investigating and moving just as he wanted them to, although he knew she had no idea just how well she was doing. Instinct and a natural inquisitiveness were guiding them, without Annie consciously realising it...

Take one spirited teenage maverick, her retarded boyfriend and a sadistic, ill-tempered sot of a stepfather. Roll in a bleak Scottish island, a dying fishing community, tack on the year 1966 and add an atmosphere of desperate hardship.

Work in one troublesome spitfire, a lone father at his wits' end, and a conspiracy assured to pain, humiliate and deflower the eligible maidens of Eilean Mòr.

Simmer the mix over the fires of licentiousness, knead with subjugation, humiliation and lust incarnate. Finally, steam with flagellation, bondage, intercourse, and read a lewd tale of domination and submission that will more than turn up your toes.

Aggressive hammering on the bedroom door took on a more violent aspect, as Annie's stepfather took to kicking it with hobnailed boots. Any second she expected the inadequate barrier to surrender to the man's drunken violence. Frantically she rubbed at blue powdered eyelids and mascara-laden lashes; desperate to remove every trace of the banned substances before the enraged Dougie smashed the door from its hinges.
   Annie knew she was in trouble, but that was nothing unusual as calamity dogged her day and night. When she stole the cigarettes from her mother she quite expected to pay the price. But there again, Teresa McPherson had been extremely grateful and the girl's dour mood improved no end by the intake of nicotine. Hadn't she promised to permit Annie a vetting as a probable new member? The faces of the other girls as she handed around the fags - all so grateful! Yes, it was all worth the bite of Dougie's brutal rod.
   That gruff voice bawled in frustration. 'If you don't open this fucking door, Annie McAllister, I'll whip you to within an inch of your miserable fucking life!'
   How near, she wondered, was an inch? Close enough to put her in the infirmary, away from him and her dear, weak, pathetic mother?
   'I'm warning you, Annie,' he bawled. 'I'll give you a dose of the strap on top, if you don't open up.'
   Annie turned her head to the door. 'Oh, go and boil your head,' she mumbled, wiping the last of the make-up off, then tossing the cotton wool into a basket she removed a chair from beneath the handle and unlocked the door. It burst open and hands behind her back, she smiled at the irate man. 'Did you want me for something, Dougie?' she asked, her eyes wandering to a stout rattan the man held in a fist.
   Exasperated, he pushed her aside, and finger wagging in her face he snarled, 'Want you? I never wanted you. Unfortunately you came with your mother. The second I saw your misbegotten face I said, that's trouble. And I was right, wasn't I? You've been nothing but a pain in my arse from day one.'
   'I'm sorry I've been a disappointment,' she said. 'But unlike you, I was never even offered a choice.'
   'You damned cocky good for nothing!' he snarled. 'How dare you, eh? All the years I've fed and clothed you, and that's the thanks I get.'
   Annie fell to her knees, hands clasped before her. 'Oh, thank you, Dougie,' she gushed theatrically. 'Thank you for the porridge and the never-ending shite with chips. I'm eternally grateful.'
   Eyes glaring, he could only find a disconcerted grunt for an answer.
   'Thank you for the second-hand rags and the labourer's boots. Thank you for whipping me regular as clockwork. And thank you, Dougie, for treating me like something you trod in on the pavement.'
   The last vestige of sanity evaporated. Dougie grabbed a handful of her hair and hauling her forward laid into her vulnerable bottom with the rod, lashing her with half a dozen rapid cuts before regaining some composure.
   He stepped back, anger partially expended, but didn't expect to see tears; Annie hadn't cried as a result of the rod for a long time. She crouched down on all fours, waiting for the smart to ease, her shapely bottom slowly wagging, cotton skirt clinging and swaying.
   'All because of stolen cigarettes, Annie,' he growled. 'For fuck's sake, you don't even smoke. So why take them?'
   Annie pushed herself up from the floor, tentatively rubbing stinging buttocks. She shrugged, offering a weak smile, and having long given up on the reasons for the girl's wayward behaviour, he unfastened the buckle of a wide belt. 'Bend over your bedside cabinet, Annie,' he ordered. 'Your backside is now going to have a serious conflict with my belt.'
   She could smell the stink of whiskey on his breath, the rancid odour of stale sweat wafting from his unwashed body. Accepting that her bottom would feel like a tenderised steak after his right arm finally failed, she rested her tummy on the unit, legs outstretched.
   Dougie knew how to flay a backside, proving highly capable at inducing the worst imaginable scorch, but that was where any talent ended. Except, of course, the talent of draining a whiskey bottle dry.
   Her arms hanging and her hands gripping short cabinet legs, Annie stared at the bare floorboards. He was a disgusting lecher, and he would now pull her skirt up, bare her bottom and have a thorough inspection. He would stroke her cheeks, pretending to be performing a paternal duty, when really he'd like nothing more than to shag his stepdaughter.
   As expected, Dougie lifted the hem, drawing the skirt over toned thighs and youthful bottom. He stifled a sigh of delight as delicious cheeks emerged. No matter how often he beheld those stunning buttocks, they always produced the same effect in him. Dougie furtively massaged a flourishing erection through his trousers, a surge of sexual arousal firing his resolve. So often he had wrestled with his conscience. Annie wasn't of his blood. She wasn't even legally his, as he'd never actually got around to marrying her mother. The mind wandered as it always did, images so real he could almost feel the penetration.
   The man tucked fingers into the waistband of snug panties, taking time to savour the indentation of supple flesh, delicate cloth caught in the deep division, the distorted 'V' concealing little. Relishing the unveiling, he eased the cotton down sleek, pale skin.
   With cock groaning, his mind demanded the ultimate act. As the thin panties cleared delectable flanks, Dougie focussed on the cross formed by the meeting of thighs and bottom, dwelling on what nestled directly beneath the niche of that intersection. Most morals had been eroded by alcohol intoxication, but fortuitously for Annie, the man still held reservations, or fears about committing the final act.
   Dougie doubled the belt, smoothing polished hide with fingers and thumb. Standing directly behind the girl he digested the six welts raised by the cane, puffed and discoloured. Recollection of Annie's impudence revived the rage, his reluctance to chance trespass upon her body aggravating it.
   He dispensed the usual ineffectual advice. 'Next time you decide on insolence, remember this...' A dull rush of air forewarned, Annie tensing. Leather struck bare flesh, the crack brief and alarming. The girl hid her face, not wanting him to see the distress, denying him the satisfaction of knowing how much the belt hurt her.
   The stripe burning relentlessly she received the second, the opposite cheek shuddering beneath the impact. Beyond the man's line of sight fists tightened around short wooden legs, squeezing remorselessly. With her face grimacing in agonised response Annie grit her teeth, biting back an urgent scream.
   Dougie Laing hit with blow after blow, alternating between left and right buttock, lashes rapid in succession, her seat swiftly reddened. Tears threatened, Annie swallowing hard, mentally combating the threat. The scorch grew, expanded, filled her rump with an intolerable fire. Every stroke proved increasingly murderous, her bottom so sickeningly sore she could have howled.
   She didn't count the strokes, the thrashing lasting for some minutes until her previously pale bottom became a deep crimson, but dissatisfied, the girl's mute reception galling, Laing determined to elicit some protestation from her. The impulse too strong to ignore, he thrust a hand between warm legs, urging them forcefully apart, fingertips digging into supple inner thigh, his hand so close to inviting genitalia he winced at a breathtaking bombardment of sexual discharges, his cock in spasm.
   With Annie's legs forced apart the man eyed that inviting fissure, delicate folds slightly parted, tender pink inner inflaming him to the point where resistance faltered.
   Wary of the pause in hostility, Annie asked anxiously, 'W-what are you doing?'
   Eyes glued to that succulence, Dougie laid a palm to hot buttock flesh. There he stroked, hand wandering, moving ever closer to that teasing furrow. His erection ached maddeningly, every thought focussed on the promise of tight cunt. Every image centred on penetration, his cock immersed in pliable female pussy.
   A thumb touched, sampled the rich texture of protruding lips, gently rubbing that opening.
   Annie pushed up from the table, her mind recoiling, her stomach nauseous. 'What the hell do you...?' she gasped, but Dougie slammed her back down, hand pressed to the small of her back, her tummy giving to the hard surface.
   'Shut your mouth,' he growled. 'You've grown into a fine looking lass, Annie McAllister. Aye, you've a lovely face and a lovely body too. The way you prance about the house, flashing your legs and tits, you can't blame a man for being interested.'
   Annie attempted to wriggle free, Dougie's strength defeating her. 'You're my stepfather!' she squealed, shocked. 'You're not supposed to see me like that!'
   Laing snorted derision and gave in to those animal urges. An immoral, weak and irresponsible wretch, he gripped, squeezed and fondled a delicious buttock. 'I'm a man,' he drawled. 'A red-blooded man, Annie. Do you honestly believe your short skirts don't have any effect on me? That your tits inside your wee T-shirts go unnoticed? No, Annie, you know. You do it all on purpose, don't you? You deliberately tease me. Well, now it's collection time. You've pushed me to the limit, my girl.' He squeezed a hand between her legs, fingers groping, mauling her vaginal lips.
   'I only dress like I do because it's the fashion!' she protested. 'Please, I don't do it on purpose. Please don't... please don't touch me like that.'
   'What do you want, then? This?' Laing unzipped his trousers, releasing a desperate erection, then pressed his groin to her bottom, her buttocks quivering, ardent cock between the delectably soft valley. 'Can you feel me, Annie?' he croaked...
Average Rating (1 Review):  
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Great stepfather/daughter erotica
Thursday, 10 December 2009  | 

I really enjoyed this shorter story from Chimera a lot. Dougie is a real bastard to gorgeous Annie, with plenty of bondage and spanking. Great stepfather/daughter erotica. The story's raw and rugged, and Annie's a real turn on.

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