• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Incest/Taboo
  • /
  • Woman of the House

Woman of the House

Ma had left me with them, my two step brothers, Josh and Reuben, and her husband, my stepfather, Horace. I was a woman grown when Ma left us, a strong girl with long legs and a slim waist that didn't really need a corset. She had run off with a travelling salesman, a snake oil man who travelled from town to town. She hadn't looked back when she left. I was never really a consideration for her to begin with. Ma had always been flighty and more than a little vain. All that salesman had to do was say a few sweet words to her, and she didn't even have to think any more about her girl, the man she married two years ago, or his two sons.

When Horace and his boys returned from town, they already knew. I could tell by the thunderclap look Horace had on his face, and the sly way both Reuben and Josh looked at me. Josh licked his chapped lips, flushing as I stuck my tongue out at him. He gave me a look that let me know I'd pay later. I hated Josh in a hot and bothered way. He was always staring at me when I did my chores, and sometimes I'd hear him in the hayloft grunting like he was working, even though I knew he wasn't. But if Josh was bad, Reuben was worse. Sometimes I'd catch him touching himself, down there, while he was looking at me, that same sly smile on his face that he gave me just then. After I stuck out my tongue, Reuben made a choking noise, and even before I looked down, I knew he was touching himself outside of the gaze of his father. Horace didn't cotton to me at all. Sometimes I doubted he even had a human feeling at all, with the glaring way he looked at me with his pale eyes.

Horace wasn't mindful of the exchange between us, and said in his gruff voice, "It looks like you're the woman of the house now. Get dinner on girl. You boy's get yer chores done. Daylight's wastin'. "

Horace stumped to the curtained off area that had been his and Ma's room. A few seconds later, I heard the squeak of the ropes on the bed and a heavy sigh. A little bit later I could hear a rhythmic rustling, a thing I'd heard a few times when Horace and Ma had needed some married time. I couldn't quite figure out what it was that Horace could be doing that would make that noise.

I started dinner, a chore that wasn't as time-consuming as some of the things I had to do. Mostly what went on the stove had to cook a bit, so I had time to wonder about the muffled rustling from behind the curtain.

After a while curiosity got hold of me and I snuck to the doorway, mindful that my toes didn't go under the curtain. I pushed the curtain aside a sliver holding my breath to until I knew Horace hadn't seen me. I couldn't see much more than the dirt floor beside the bed, so I slid it open a little further. Horace sat on the side of the bed, his broad chest and slender hips bared, and his trousers around his feet. He was running his hand up and down between his legs, jerking whatever it was down between his knees. He had a look of what could only be described as blissful concentration as he labored.

I stood on my tip-toes, trying to see what he held. He leaned his head back, the tendons on his neck standing out. Light filtered through the window, a little pane of greased cloth that served in place of a glass frame. A light breeze lifted the side of the oilcloth and light bathed Horace's craggy features, lending him an air of male beauty that I had never seen before. Suddenly he lay back on the bed, the ropes of the frame creaking under the shifting of his weight and I saw what had so interested him.

I had seen cocks before; the little boys' I had cared for at church when I was young, the horses when they were rutting. But I had never seen a man grown before, especially one that was in its full glory.

The top of it was purple, almost bruised looking and as he worked his hand up the base of it, a thin, glistening fluid formed on the mushroom-shaped top. I watched breathlessly as Horace dipped his other hand between his legs, and was shocked to hear the low grown that action produced. The hand on his cock moved faster, pistoning up and down until he stiffened, the corded muscles of his legs straining against whatever pressure built in him.

Strangely, I felt heat pool in my gut, making me feel the restless yearning that I sometimes had when I saw Rueben work the horses or when Josh looked at me with slanting heat in his eyes. I seemed to be unable to catch my breath as Horace jerked up on his shaft one last time and a thick jet of white liquid pulsed out of the top. Horace lay there on the bed, breathing heavily himself, his eyes cast to the rough-hewn wood of the ceiling above him. I felt my hand slip, and the movement must have caught his attention, because he looked at me, his gaze burning.

I hurriedly slipped back to the stove, the strange, heavy heat still pooled in my belly. My hands shook as I finished frying the potatoes, my mind roiled with the image of that thick white liquid and the blissful expression on Horace's face as it appeared.

&*&*&

Dinner was just set on the table as the boys blew in from outside. They were ruddy-faced and sweating, their eyes glazed. Horace shot them a look, and snorted. "You boys'd better have done your chores before you got up to anything else."

"We done our chores, Pa." Josh slouched down on his side of the table, straddling the bench as he did. Ruben sat next to me. "Can't help it if we got... needs to take care of too."

Horace remained silent but shot me a dark look that made that down-low heat swirl in my nethers again. I kept my face down so as the boys wouldn't see my red cheeks.

To my bafflement, Horace said, "After tonight, boy, not before."

He grabbed the ladle out of the pot and poured the thick stew into his bowl before returning it. "Girl, I'll want to talk to you after dinner."

"Yessir." I almost jumped as I felt Ruben's knee brush mine through the layers of petticoats and soft cotton calico. Of the three of them, Ruben was the handsomest. He didn't look much like either Horace or Josh, with his dark curling hair and gypsy black eyes. Sometimes at night when Ma and Horace had been doing their married things, I picture Ruben doing the same to me. Even if I hated him, he still caused my insides to flip. I'd slip my nightgown up and delve under my pantalets, feeling for that tender bud that made my toes curl if I touched it just right.

Ruben moved his thigh against mine as his hand dropping below the table. I knew he was touching himself there. I could almost picture how his manhood would look unfurled in the air. I wondered idly if he would like me to touch it like I touched myself. I started when I saw the ladle under my nose. Ruben giving me that cocky half-smile he always did, the one that made me want to rub it off his face for good. I jerked the ladle out of his hand and dipped my own meal out. We all ate in silence like usual.

As the meal closed, the boys stood noisily to go outside and take their scraps to the compost heap before they put their dishes in the pail for washing tomorrow. I started to rise and do the same, but Horace told Josh to take mine. I supposed it was time to for that talk.

Horace looked at me a long moment before he pulled out his cob pipe. Once he was done with the business of that, placing the tobacco, tamping it, lighting it, he said. "I tol' you this afternoon, you was the woman of the house now."

"Yessir," I answered, not really understanding where this all was going. "You did."

Horace smiled, that small tilt of his lips, under his beard that told me he was amused at my expense. I waited. "Since yer ma left, that leaves you with certain duties that she did."

"You mean... cooking and the like?" My hands fluttered beneath the table, as his lowered gaze suddenly reminded me of that mushroom-tipped cock of his. Heat and some moisture trickled between my legs and I did all I could not to clamp my legs tight.

Horace smirked and then said, "You know I don't mean just that."

He stood, his large hands cupping my chin as he leaned closer. He smelled of outdoors, tobacco, and that sweaty musky scent from this afternoon. "Yer gonna be a wife to me and my boys. That's the agreement yer ma made with me before I let her leave with that bastard today. Now, tonight's a special night, and yer gonna spend it with me. I want y'to go down to the stream and take a bath. When you come in, you go straight to my room and wait there."

"B-but..." I began, but he wrenched me from my seat by my upper arms.

"Do as I say and I'll be sure to make it pleasant for ya." He pulled me close for a minute, hooking his arm around me; the pipe lay forgotten on the table. He leaned forward, capturing me open-mouthed as I started to scream. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I battled back against it, weakly hitting at his chest until I felt the fire in me that I had banked that afternoon spread up my nethers. As his hand cupped by breast, I moaned into his mouth.

He pulled roughly at my bodice, popping buttons off to get to my breasts. He dragged his lips and tongue down my neck, dwelling on my skin before he lifted my flesh out of its cloth prison. His lips and teeth were suddenly on the pebbled, aching surface of my nipple and his hand had rucked up my skirt, questing between my legs. I rode his fingers as they pressed into that quickly hardening nub through the scant layer of my cotton drawers.

My breathing came harsh and alien to my own ears as he slid along my opening, pressed as far as he could with his blunt digits against the material. I cried out as he suddenly stepped back from me, a triumphant look on his face and said, "I think you'll be a better than yer ma."

He released me suddenly, and I stumbled blindly outside, clutching my bodice together. I knew my face was red from my reaction to Horace and the things he did with his fingers and mouth. How could I let him... how could I let them... lie with me?

And like it was on cue, that traitorous wet heat trickled between my legs again, proof of what Horace had done to me. If I didn't let them have me, where would I go? I'd be thrown out and end up just another soiled dove. Was there really a difference between what he wanted and what I knew I'd become if I didn't? I realized with dawning horror, that I could and would let them have me, and not just because of my predicament.

They'd been preparing me for this very day for the two years Ma and me'd lived with them. Ma had sold me to them as surely as if she'd taken coin. I was to be their whore, and I knew I'd enjoy it.

  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Incest/Taboo
  • /
  • Woman of the House

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 462 milliseconds