#kayowrites

It was wrong to think about your stepmother as you did. She’s your father’s wife, for God’s sake. It’s terribly immoral. But you didn’t let that stop your fantasies from running wild. When she bent over, you always thought of grinding up against her ass, or when she wore pants that framed her dick perfectly, fuck, did that have you soaked.

But even though you so desperately wanted to shove up against the wall and make out with her, you hated her. 

“Fuck you, Agatha! I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake. I can make my own fucking decisions,” you screamed, face hot.

Agatha’s eyes rolled. “Did you just learn to swear?”

You glared at her, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m going to the party.” 

Agatha stood with her hands on her hips and her lips tight. “I promised your father I would look after you whilst he’s gone, and going to some trashy college party is not safe!”

You swiped your keys off the counter and tried to push past her, but Agatha grabbed your wrist and pinned you between herself and the counter. You knew the act wasn’t purposefully sexual, but you could feel her dick pushing against you as she kept you trapped. Your heart sped up.

“You are not going, do you understand, mommy?”

You swallowed, pussy clenching around nothing. Agatha has been trying to get you to call her "mommy" and "mama" for the past few months. You refuse to. Not because it weirded you out or anything, but because you knew that if you did, it would only fuel this sexualness you have for her.

“Uh-” you stuttered.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,”

“Yes, who?”

You hesitate for a moment, the word nearly slipping out. “Yes, Agatha.”

She seemed disappointed, but she took your keys from your hand and stepped back. You headed to your room, the thought of the party leaving your mind as all you could focus on was the throbbing feeling between your legs and the need to relieve yourself.

–

Your fingers worked relentlessly, pumping in and out of your soaked pussy. The sheets below were damp with your wetness and sweat. You groaned in frustration, eyes welling with tears. For the past two hours, you have been edging yourself. Nothing will bring you over that edge, and you’ve tried absolutely everything. Well, not everything.

I can't, you tell yourself, it’s wrong.

You checked the time; it’s 12 AM, way past Agatha’s bedtime of 10 PM. She’s a heavy sleeper, so she probably wouldn’t even wake up. Does that make it better or worse? Before you can question yourself about the morality of the situation, you’re slipping out of bed and down the hall to their shared bedroom. 

The door was already cracked open, revealing Agatha’s sleeping form in the moonlight. Her white night gown had risen over her hips as she slept. She wore pink heart panties. Cute.

You sneaked into the room, settling into the longue chair in the corner of the room, which faced the bed. You spread your legs, slowly dragging your fingers through your folds, collecting your slick. You covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your fingers gliding into you. It felt good, so fucking good being able to watch her whilst touching yourself, but it wasn’t enough. 

You slowly clambered over Agatha, hovering right over the place your body begged for. You pulled her panties down, watching her face cautiously for any signs of waking. Her dick sprang out, and you swallowed nervously. She was way bigger than you expected. That wasn’t going to stop you, though. 

You brushed your finger over her hole, and she twitched. As you slowly started to jerk her off, she stirred. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her lip got caught between her teeth. You thought she was going to wake, but she didn’t. Her pre-crum drizzles from the head down her shaft, and you moaned as you licked it up. 

“Messy, aren’t you, mama?” you mused.

She whimpered, and your pussy ached for more. If she didn’t wake up to you giving her a handjob, no way she would wake up to you riding her, right? Yeah, sounds right. 

Oh, how you were wrong. Your pussy has swallowed half her dick, your walls fluttering around her, and tears streaming down your face from the pain of the stretch when she wakes. 

“Shush, shush. It’s okay, Agatha,” you hushed her as she let out a noise of confusion mixed with a moan. “I just need this, yeah? It’s okay.”

“Y/n? W-what are you doing?” she questioned with a heavy breath. Is she close already?

You grabbed her face, kissing her deeply and moaning into her mouth as you took her whole length. The kiss was fierce and desperate. You clashed for dominance, tongues pushing against each other, but she was crowned victor when she flipped you onto your back.

“How long were you-” 

“Please, mommy, please.”

It was like hearing that snapped something inside her. Her hips slammed forward, her grip on your thighs iron and no doubt will bruise. She moaned, her head dropping onto your shoulder. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her closer to you.

“I can’t hold for long,” she whimpered.

“Please, don’t. I just need you to cum in me, please.” You know you were begging pathetically, but you didn’t care.

She bit down on your shoulder as she came, her body shaking. You followed shortly behind, your back arching and eyes squeezing shut. You threaded your hand through Agatha’s hair and kissed her softly.

Suddenly, the situation dawned on you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. Agatha did the same, removing herself from you. You stand, legs shaking from your orgasm. 

“Um, goodnight, Agatha.”

She smiled softly, but sadly. “Goodnight.”

You hurried back to your room, mind racing. No fucking way did you just let your stepmom fuck you. But even though it was wrong, you didn’t hate it. In fact, you loved it enough to let it happen again. No harm if your father doesn’t find out, right?

---

You woke with a startled gasp, heart pounding in your chest. You were drugged unconscious and now woke in an unfamiliar room. A thick black collar hugged your neck, and a chain connecting to a wall dangled from it. The chain was short; they obviously didn’t want you wandering the room. You sat on a black dog bed, basic but nicer than the one at the kennel. 

You took in your surroundings. The room was small with one large barred window and a handleless door. On the left wall, there were shelves full of leashes, muzzles, and collars. All of them were different colours, shapes, and sizes. The one that caught your attention the most was the shock collar. You shuddered. 

The words of your seller echoed in your head, and you fought back tears. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, as your seller called her, scared you. The way she handled that gun and the threat she spoke showed she was no stranger to violence. You, on the other hand, were somewhat sheltered from violence. The most you witnessed were trainers beating other pets, and even that scared you. If Natasha hadn’t bought you when she did, that would have been you in a few days, at least; that was when your training was really meant to start. You wondered why Natasha decided to purchase you, an untrained pet, when perfectly trained options were available. 

Click.

The door pushed open, revealing an older woman. Her dark brown hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and her face was sharp. She held a leash in her hands, grip tightening when she watched you back into the wall, a glare settling over your face.

“Don’t piss me off on the first day,” she grumbled, marching over to you.

You couldn’t move much with the chain being so short, but you could fight back. You barred your teeth, growling as she attempted to hook her fingers around your collar. Your legs kicked out, nearly hitting her in the shin. That pissed her off. She managed to grab onto your collar, slamming you into the bed, and knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“An untrained mutt. That has honestly got to be one of their stupidest ideas.” The woman muttered to herself as she clipped the leash onto you and forced you to your knees.

But you weren’t done yet. You lunged at her, catching her by surprise and shoving her to the ground. The door was open, and you made a beeline for it. Your legs ached immediately. After only crawling for as long as you did, it hurt to straighten them, but you ignored the pain and continued to run. 

You can do this, you tell yourself, you can escape.

As you ran, you realised that you were in a mansion. The endless corridors had multiple rooms, but none seemed to have people inside. At least, you couldn’t hear anyone. You held onto the railing as you fled down the stairs, praying that the exit was near.

But all hope was lost when someone grabbed onto the leash, forced you against their chest and pinned your arms to your side. You snared, trying to break free, but they were strong. Something pricked your neck, and you felt your eyes get heavy; the world turned black.

–

When you woke again, you were back in the room, although this time, your limbs felt heavy and clumsy. You tried to lift yourself, but you couldn’t. You huffed, flopping onto the dog bed in defeat. Your first escape attempt failed, but judging by the lack of security and how far you ran, another attempt wouldn’t be worthless. 

You don’t know how long you had been lying there, but suddenly the door clicked open, and in walked the same woman from earlier. Her expression was tight with a hint of annoyance. She wasn’t holding a leash this time; instead, a muzzle.

“Can you move?” she questioned, to which you growled in response. “Good.”

She strapped the muzzle around your face, making sure it wasn’t too tight but not loose enough that it would fall off. You tried to bite her as she lifted and carried you out of the room, but that only made her chuckle. Muzzles were embarrassing.

“Little shit, you run fast, you know that?” The woman patted your back when you started to fuss in her arms. “Wanda would’ve blown my head off if you managed to get out, so don’t do that again, yeah?”

You freeze at the mention of that name. 

Or worse, Wanda will, and I’m sure you know how violent my wife can be.

Along with your seller's words, Natasha’s words stuck to you, too. Now, with the woman’s words, you were even more terrified to meet Wanda.

The woman carried down a few corridors and up a flight of stairs before stopping in front of a large wooden door with the initials "N.R." carved into it. She knocked three times. The door swung open, revealing Natasha.

“Thank you, Maria,” she said, stepping to the side. 

The large room had a thick wooden desk in the middle with massive windows behind it. The walls were lined with shelves full of books and decorative items. The whole room gave gothic vibes. The woman, whom you now know is Maria, placed you on the dog bed next to the desk. Your limbs were still weak, but strong enough to lunge at Maria again. The woman grunted, pinning you onto your back. There was another short leash attached to the foot of the desk, which Maria clipped to your collar.

“That will be trained out of her, do not worry,” Natasha said.

“I don’t understand why you got an untrained one,” Maria sighed. “Agatha’s pet would never dare to do something like that.”

Natasha waved her hand, “Agatha’s pet lacks life. We don’t want that.”

Maria opened her mouth, as if she were going to say something, but didn’t. She straightened her clothes, “Call me if you need me.” The door automatically locked when Maria left. 

Natasha stood over you, her eyes studying your body. You suddenly became aware of how naked and exposed you were. She crouched down and grabbed your muzzle, pulling you towards her.

Her fingers ran over your cheek, where the seller had hit you. It must have been bruised by now. She opened a drawer, pulling out a tube and squeezed cream onto her fingers. She held your chin with her hand and applied the cream to your cheek with the other. Your stomach erupted in butterflies. That was the first soft act you had received in God knows how long.

“I heard about your little escape stunt," she said, "Don't you dare think you'll get off the hook next time."

You barred your teeth and lunged, but you didn’t get very far. She grabbed onto your throat, slamming you into the desk and slapped you hard. You couldn’t control the tears that slid down your face, and you cried softly, sniffling. Your face felt hot and stung.

Natasha's hand dropped down to your tits, and you tried not to moan as she pinched and pulled at your nipples. She chuckled taking pleasure in watching you struggle to control yourself.

Her phone suddenly rang and she stood before answering, greeting the caller in a language that you were sure was Russian. You looked around the room, mind already forming another escape plan. The windows weren’t barred like the other room were, but you were at least on the 3rd story of the mansion; it’d be stupid to try to escape from the window. One of the shelves was lined with guns and knives, which would be useless in an escape. They were mobbosses; they probably handled those types of weapons multiple times a day, and you have never touched one. They would disarm you in seconds. 

You wouldn’t be escaping from this room. 

Natasha wore a white wife-beater, her muscles on display. Her arms were bruised and littered with scars; you wondered what her story was. You definitely wouldn’t be able to overpower her. She looked like she could bench press your body weight plus more. Maybe you could outrun her. Maria did say you were fast. But at the kennel, you weren’t allowed to stand or anything of the sort, so muscle was lost. You were honestly surprised you managed to run earlier. You doubted you would be allowed to use your legs here either.

Natasha’s brow lifted and she said something that sounded like a question. She nodded, turning her gaze to you, and you tried not to shrink. The call ended and she slipped her phone into her pocket. She pulled a leash out of her drawer, clipping it onto your collar. 

“Let’s go meet Wanda, hm?”

-

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Your shoes squeaked loudly with every step, giving her an easy trail straight to you. You cursed. You weren’t going to die like this, not like Stephen Strange did. Your eyes fill with tears as you recall what you just witnessed.

Natasha Romanoff, someone whom you considered a good person, stood over Stephen’s body with a knife that dripped with blood. The expression on her face was nothing you had seen her wear before – it could only be described as pure evil. She didn’t notice you at first, but you foolishly tripped over a broom. Then you turned on your heels and sprinted out of the room, her footsteps closely following behind. 

You couldn’t run for much longer; your legs had started to ache, and your lungs cried for a break. You pushed a door open and slammed it behind you, using your body weight to keep it shut. You heaved loudly, catching your breath. 

Thank God.

Of course, luck wasn’t on your side for long. Natasha pounded at the door before throwing her shoulder into it with such force that the door flew open and knocked you to the ground. 

“Wait, Natasha! Please, don’t do this,” you cried, shuffling away from her.

The knife twirled in her hand, and she smiled at you sickly. Her white jumpsuit was splattered in Stephen’s blood, and you knew your blood was going to be added to that. She slowly walked towards you, getting off to your fear.

“Natasha, please, I won’t tell anyone!” you desperately said, which only made her smile grow.

“Nat?”

She paused, and her eyes widened in horror as Wanda Maximoff stood in the corner of the room, her own eyes wide too—relief flooding in your chest, all hope wasn’t lost. Natasha and Wanda were close; she could stop Natasha.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked.

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed, unable to say anything. Wanda cautiously walked towards her, taking the knife from Natasha’s hand. You didn’t move; you didn’t want to risk setting Natasha off.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispered, her head dropping.

Then, you screamed.

Wanda drove the knife into Natasha’s side, blood splurting. Natasha groaned and leaned on Wanda for support. Wanda kissed the top of Natasha’s head. “I told you this one is mine, didn’t I, stupid girl?” 

Your mouth hung in horror, and your body felt frozen. You needed to move, run, escape, just do anything but sit there, but you couldn’t. 

Wanda helped Natasha lean against a wall before making her way to you. This seemed to wake your body up as you quickly got to your feet and backed away.

“It wasn’t meant to happen this way,” Wanda sighed, distastefully glancing at Natasha. “It was meant to be nicer.”

Your heart pounded. The only escape was the door you came through, which both women blocked. There was nothing in the room that you could use as a weapon. You were absolutely fucked.

“You don’t have to do this.” You said, voice shaking.

Wanda lurched at you, grasping onto the front of your shirt and pinning you to the wall, her knife pushing against your neck. “You’re right. I don’t have to. But I want to.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking she was going to slice your throat right then and there, but instead, she ripped the fabric of your jumpsuit and let it pool around your ankles. Wanda pushed the knife further into your neck, breaking skin – a warning. You silently cried.

“See what you’ve done, Natasha?” Wanda hissed. “Greedy. I should gut you after this, too.”

Natasha chuckled darkly, “Shut up.”

Natasha was still bleeding and in obvious pain, but she seemed to be recovering. She wasn’t leaning on the wall for so much support anymore. Her eyes were glued to you.

Wanda dragged her free hand down your chest, brushing over your nipples before going further down. She stopped right on your clit, her eyes snapping to your face. Tears were streaming down your face.

“It’s okay,” she shushed you. “It’ll be okay.”

Natasha stumbled over to you, crashing into the wall. Her bloodied hand grasped your face, turning you to face her. She sneered, slapping your cheek lightly, smearing her blood on you. “You’re such a crybaby.”

Wanda rubbed your clit in slow, large circles. You bit your lip, and your eyes fluttered closed. You tried to turn your head from Natasha, but her grip tightened. You whimpered as Wanda’s fingers pushed past your folds and collected your slick. You opened your eyes when Wanda lifted her fingers to Natasha’s mouth, who greedily took them with a moan. 

“Hurry up.” Natasha’s voice was slurred. “I’m gonna pass out soon because you fucking stabbed me, and I don’t wanna miss anything.”

You barely held back your moan, and your hips jerked. Wanda’s fingers slipped inside with ease, and she quickly found a rhythm that made you squirm and pant. Her fingers managed to hit every spot imaginable. 

The women coo over you.

“Look at them, taking me so well.”

“I knew they would moan all pretty.”

“Perfect, just perfect.”

Natasha took the knife from Wanda’s hands and pressed it harder into your neck. You cried, begging for her to stop, but that only made them laugh. 

It didn’t take long for Wanda to have you tumbling over that pleasurable edge. Your back arched, and your eyes squeezed shut. Your mouth dropped open, silent moans spilling out. When you came back to your senses, the situation dawned on you.

You were fast to react. Natasha was barely conscious with the knife still in her hand, and Wanda was busy licking her fingers clean. You shoved Wanda to the ground, quickly bolting to the exit door. You were butt-naked, but you didn’t care. You heard the women arguing as you ran down the corridor.

“Wanda, if you leave me, I’ll fucking die! Don’t you understand that?” Natasha screamed.

Wanda cursed loudly, but didn’t run after you.