Stepmother Is the Queen
"You perverted little shit."
My shoulders flinched at that ice-cold voice.
In that instant, I understood just how thoroughly fucked I was. I'd been caught doing something unforgivably perverted — and of all people, it had to be my stepmother.
Whatever fragile food chain had existed between us flipped completely. I stood there trembling like a rabbit staring down a predator.
...This is the worst.
How the hell did she even find out?
As I sat there reeling, my stepmother crossed her legs with regal poise and asked, cool and cutting:
"I'll ask you one more time. You've been staring holes through my legs every single class, haven't you? And you've been jerking off with my stockings?"
"......Yes. That's right."
I hung my head and answered. With the evidence already in her hands, denial was useless — and I didn't have the strength for it anyway. No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't invent a single excuse that would get me out of this.
I had masturbated with the stockings of this proud, high-handed stepmother of mine. Worse, I'd cursed her out while I did it.
Of course this wasn't something she was going to just let slide.
What happens to me now...?
A woman who already treated me like a thorn in her side was never going to handle this peacefully. Pinned under that frigid gaze, all I could do was wait quietly for whatever came next.
"I wonder if anyone else knows. That you're this kind of perverted little shit."
"I'm sorry. I won't ever do it again, so..."
"Sorry? Are you asking me to forgive you right now?"
A cold sneer dropped onto the top of my head. Even I knew how shameless it was to say something like that. But begging for forgiveness was the only move I had left.
"......I'm sorry."
I went all the way — climbed down from the chair and dropped to my knees. Under ordinary circumstances I would never have given this woman the satisfaction, but this was no time for pride. I bowed my head, feeling the hard marble floor dig into my kneecaps.
"...Hah. You perverted little shit."
Tap. Tap.
Her high-heeled shoe struck my shoulder.
"You want forgiveness that badly?"
"......Yes. If you'll forgive me, I'll do anything."
"Is that so? Then from now on, you're my slave."
...Slave? For a second the word didn't even register. I lifted my head to look at her — and our eyes met.
My stepmother gazed down at me with her legs crossed, a cold little smile in her eyes.
But there was something strange about her expression. It didn't look like she was disgusted that I'd used her clothes to get off. If anything, she looked like she'd just caught me exactly where she wanted me.
"......Become your slave?"
"Mm. I've been stressed out of my mind at the academy lately, so this works out. If you don't like it, just say so. I'll simply hand this recording over to the police."
"Ah — no. I'll do it. Slave."
With no real choice, I nodded fast. Better to accept her terms first and look for a way out later. Being a slave beat getting reported to the cops by a mile.
So I agreed — but I couldn't hide how rattled I was.
...A slave, all of a sudden?
What did that even mean? Run errands? Follow orders? That was as far as my naive thinking went — until my stepmother stuck her shoe out in front of my face. When I just sat there, not understanding, her eyes flashed cold.
"Hey."
I flinched.
Something in that voice said this was about to get a lot worse.
"When I stick my foot out, the first thing you do is take off my shoe."
"Why the shoe...?"
"Is a slave talking back to me right now?"
The reality of my position hit me, and I put my hands on the shoe at once. As carefully as a servant attending a lady, I slipped it off — and her stocking-wrapped foot emerged. My stepmother smirked and gently lifted my chin with her toes.
"If you're going to be a slave, you need to swear an oath of submission too."
"What the hell does that even—"
"Kiss my leg. Serve your mistress."
She issued the command like some haughty noblewoman out of a fairy tale. True to her reputation as the academy's most beautiful teacher, she had that ice-queen, drama-villainess energy down cold.
With looks like hers, if she told the male students at our academy to lick her asshole instead of her feet, tens of thousands of them would treat it like a reward. But given how badly my stepmother and I got along, all I felt was pure humiliation.
"Even so, feet are a bit—"
"You don't know what 'slave' means? You bark when I say bark. You sit when I say sit. I've got enough stress as it is — this is perfect."
Only then did I understand what she meant by slave.
My stepmother needed someone to take it out on. Looking at that face radiating pure frost, I realized I had no options left.
I slowly took hold of her slender ankle.
"Kiss it as devotedly as you can."
"......Yes, Teacher."
"When it's just the two of us, you call me Mistress."
My face burned with shame, but I forced the words out.
"......Yes, Mistress."
I pressed my lips slowly to her leg. It was nothing more than putting my mouth on a leg — and yet in that moment, the hierarchy between us felt locked into place with absolute finality.
Mwah. Mwah.
I deliberately made the sounds wet and audible, trying to sell how thoroughly I was putting my heart into it. It was degrading and it shredded my pride — but with my weakness in her hands, I had no choice.
"Pfft. It suits you."
She sneered.
I'd always thought that, aside from her irritating personality, she was basically a normal person. I was going to have to revise that assessment. Even if I wasn't her biological son — who the hell decides to turn their stepson into a slave? I'd walked straight into the hands of a genuine psychopath.
"Hey. Who told you to stop?"
"......What?"
"You keep going until I'm satisfied. Do I have to walk you through every single basic thing?"
...Crazy bitch. The words rose all the way to the back of my throat, but I swallowed them and put my mouth back on her leg.
In the end, I had to keep kissing her leg until she finally gave permission to stop. Only after she'd thoroughly branded the new pecking order into me did she release me with another cold sneer.
"Good. From now on, act like a proper slave. Son?"
...Hearing that, I had the distinct feeling I was completely, thoroughly screwed.
After everything that happened at the academy.
I rode home in my stepmother's car. The fact that our destination was the house and not a police station was a genuine relief — but I barely dared to breathe, terrified of setting off her temper.
"Hey."
The moment we stepped through the front door, she casually stuck her foot out. I caught on fast and carefully removed her shoe. She smirked like I'd done well and ruffled my hair with her hand. A crushing wave of humiliation hit me, but I forced my face to stay blank.
Stroking my head the way you'd pet an animal, my stepmother wore that same cold sneer.
"You can go back to your room now. I'll call you later, so check your phone constantly. Be late and you'll regret it."
".....Yes, Mistress."
Outwardly I answered with perfect deference, but inside I was boiling. Whether she knew it or not, she left me with those words and disappeared into the master bedroom. The second her back vanished from sight, I spat out every curse I'd been holding in and retreated to my room.
"...Ugh. That crazy bitch."
I'd always known she was proud and high-handed, but I never imagined it went this far.
Getting caught jerking off with her stockings made me a complete idiot — but a woman who demanded her stepson become her slave wasn't exactly normal either. Did she just get off on making people submit?
At this rate, I'd be stuck as her slave for the rest of my life. Plenty of guys at the academy would probably call it a jackpot and envy me — but to me, my stepmother was pure evil stepmother out of Cinderella.
Obviously I wasn't thrilled about being jerked around by a woman like that.
...But what choice do I have?
I let out a long sigh at the hopelessness of it all.
I don't know how long I lay on the bed after that.
Bzzzt...
A text from my stepmother lit up my phone.
...What was she going to make me do this time?
I crushed down the anxiety rising in my chest and headed for the master bedroom. And before going in, I didn't forget to knock.
Knock knock.
"....May I come in?"
"Yeah. Come in."
I carefully opened the door and stepped inside.
The neatly kept room smelled wonderful. And then I saw my stepmother sitting on the bed — and my brain short-circuited.
"Uh..... uh?"
Her hair was still damp, as if she'd just finished showering. She sat on the bed with her legs crossed, wearing nothing but a white bathrobe that left her collarbones bare. We'd lived under the same roof for quite a while, but I'd almost never seen her bare skin. Whether at home or at the academy, she stuck exclusively to clothes that covered everything.
And now that same woman was sitting there in nothing but a bathrobe, her pale legs crossed.
"What are you doing? Get over here."
At that irritable snap, I hurried over to stand in front of her. Up close, the scent of her shampoo and body wash hit me hard. And between the edges of the bathrobe, the faint suggestion of cleavage... goddamn it.
The first real look I'd ever gotten at my stepmother's bare skin was devastatingly seductive. I'd spent every day hating her — and now all I could see was that haughty, beautiful face.
...I cannot get hard right now!!
Despite my internal screaming, blood was already surging stiffly into my lower half.