Dominated By Her Stepdaughter Ch 33

As she and Carla drove home from Dylan's, Annabel pulled out her phone, which she'd left in the glove compartment while they were inside. A minute later Carla heard her groan and mutter, "Oh, God."

"What's up?" asked Carla sympathetically.

Annabel explained that she'd received a message from her husband, Carla's father, saying that he would be arriving that evening for three days at home. This sent her into something of a panic. The tone of the message had been unusually friendly, leading her to think he was up to something. In the current state of things she couldn't bear the thought of him touching her, much less trying to have sex with her.

She and Carla talked it over, and by the time they got home they had a plan; they would use this crisis as an opportunity to go on a trip together. Annabel would tell her husband that she had suddenly been called home to visit her sick mother. This was plausible because it had already happened about six months previously, and Annabel was confident he wouldn't call to check up on her; he hadn't spoken to either of her parents since the day of their wedding.

Annabel felt a little guilty about using her mother's health as a pretext to get out of town with her young lesbian lover. But under the circumstances she wanted a cover story that she felt absolutely sure her husband wouldn't question.

Carla, for her part, didn't need to make any excuses to anyone. She went where she wanted and did as she pleased.

The minute they got home Carla was on the internet researching possible destinations. Within a half-hour she had decided on Baja California and booked them an AirBnB starting the following night; that night they would stay at a hotel along the way.

Meanwhile Annabel had been packing; Carla quickly threw together a suitcase and by midafternoon they were on the road. The minute they hit the highway, the anxiety Annabel had been feeling was replaced by an exhilarating sense of freedom. She turned up the Tom Petty song on the radio and started singing along, prompting a smile from Carla, who had never seen her stepmother act so carefree and girlish.

They weren't far down the road before Carla's hand came to rest on the bare knee below Annabel's skirt, then began to make its way up her thigh. When it inevitably crept over onto her crotch, Annabel leaned back in her seat, sighed, and opened her legs. Exploring, Carla was pleasantly surprised to find that Annabel was wearing her crotchless panties. She probed Annabel's pussy with her middle finger for a minute, then brought the finger to her mouth for a taste.

"Mmmm," said Carla, smacking her lips exaggeratedly. "Delicious." She reached over and pulled Annabel's skirt up around her waist. "Touch yourself for me," she ordered.

Annabel gulped, suddenly aware of the cars all around them. But at the same time she was excited by the possibility of being seen, and reflexively obedient to Carla in any case. She rested her right hand on her pelvis, then extended her index finger and touched it to her vulva.

Carla gripped the wheel, her eyes flitting back and forth between the road and Annabel's crotch. Then she took hold of Annabel's left hand and brought it between her own legs. Now it was Annabel's turn to multitask, fingering both herself and Carla. She was so focused that she didn't notice the truck that came up alongside them, drove parallel for a minute, then raced ahead with a blare of its horn.

Momentarily taken aback, Annabel stopped what she was doing, but Carla grabbed her hand and returned it to where it had been. She had been getting close and was frustrated with the interruption.

When Carla came she exhaled loudly but appeared otherwise unaffected, keeping her eyes on the road as it took a long, slow curve to the left. Annabel, after looking around to make sure there were no other vehicles close by, resumed rubbing herself until she too was able to climax.

After that they drove along contentedly as the traffic gradually thinned out and the highway narrowed from six lanes, to four, to two. Feeling a bit parched as the landscape grew dry and dusty, they stopped to buy fruit and cold drinks at a roadside stand, then continued to the south.

In the late afternoon Carla decided it was time for a break. She pulled off the highway and found a quiet, secluded spot behind a small stand of trees. She and Annabel shared a joint and then had a nice, leisurely 69 in the back seat. Afterward they closed their eyes for a few minutes, then got back on the road for the last leg of the day's journey.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon when they began the long descent into the valley where their hotel was supposed to be. Now that the day had cooled off Carla had her window rolled all the way down, enjoying the clean, unsmoggy air. She was still a little high, feeling relaxed and mellow, locked into that groove where the car seems to drive itself.

They had long since lost the radio stations from home, and after listening for a while to Mexican radio they had settled on a Spanish-language classic rock station. Just as Carla spotted the lights in the valley below the guitar intro to "Hotel California" came on the radio. She smiled to herself; it was such a cliche and yet so absolutely perfect for this moment. She realized that some people might consider this song a bad omen, but she was not worried in the least.

* * *

Finding the hotel was easy, as it was the only building in the valley. From the outside it looked huge and majestic, if a little rundown. Inside, the lobby was cavernous and ornate, but the carpet was worn and the paint was peeling in places.

It also seemed to be completely devoid of human life. Against the far wall was a long counter, in the middle of which sat a bell. Carla rang it, and the sound echoed through the empty space for several seconds before finally dying away. After a minute she rang it again, and still no one appeared. Shrugging, she took out her phone to start looking for the next nearest hotel, but there was no service.

Finally a little old man who looked like he'd been there since the place originally opened shuffled into the room and checked them in. Moving painfully slowly, he led them to their room, which turned out to be magnificent -- huge and airy, with a canopy bed, an antique sofa, and a loft.

By the time they showered and changed they were both feeling ravenous. The reviews Carla had read online had stressed how good the hotel's restaurant was, which at the moment she was finding hard to believe. But they set out in search of it and, after a few wrong turns, found themselves in a gigantic dining room. Only a few of the many tables were occupied, all of them by men eating alone.

For a minute Carla and Annabel stood looking around; it was silent in the room except for the scraping of silverware on plates and the faint sound of classical music that seemed to be coming from far away. Then a door to their left swung open and a woman appeared.

Carla did a double-take as she approached them. She was absolutely, stunningly, painfully gorgeous, with dark hair, dark eyes, and copper-brown skin. The tight-fitting black dress she wore was cut low on top and high on the bottom; her nametag said "Yasmin."

"Hi!" she said, her mouth curling into a winning smile. Carla was uncharacteristically flustered; she stood just staring at Yasmin, wondering where she'd gotten her genes. She was probably some combination of Latin and Native American, Carla thought, but with her coloring she could just as easily have been Persian. Her age could have been anywhere from 20 to 40; hers was the kind of simple beauty that aged well.

It was Annabel who finally said, "Two for dinner, please."

"Of course," said Yasmin, and led them to a table set apart from the rest of the diners. Annabel and Carla sat down on the same side of the table and huddled over their menus while Yasmin brought them water and bread. They ordered martinis and when Yasmin returned with the drinks they were still studying the menus, unable to make up their minds.

In the end they didn't need to. "Listen," said Yasmin, grinning conspiratorially, "as you can see, we're not very busy tonight. Let me have the chef put together a tasting menu for you. I'll pair a wine with each course. Sound OK?"

"Sure," said Carla, closing her menu with a sigh of relief. "Cheers," she said, raising her glass toward the waitress, then clicking it with Annabel's.

"Wonderful," said Yasmin, picking up the menus. Then she whispered, as if it were a secret, "Our chef's a genius."

She turned out to be right. Each course was better than the one before, each wine perfectly matched with the food. As they ate the restaurant gradually cleared out until they were the only customers left, and Yasmin started lingering by their table, discussing the food, the wine, and anything else that came to mind.

Carla started to wonder: Is this girl just super-nice, or there something more going on? She felt certain that her and Annabel's body language made clear the nature of their relationship, and more than once Yasmin winked at them as she brought some new delicacy to the table.

By the time they got to dessert they were both incredibly full -- not to mention pretty tipsy -- but Yasmin talked them into a chocolate-pumpkin cheesecake that was decadently delicious. When it was gone Carla leaned back in her chair and asked for brandy; a minute later Yasmin sat a bottle and two snifters down on their table. "I have to take care of some stuff in the kitchen," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes, OK?"

When she returned she was carrying a third snifter, and she poured herself two fingers of brandy. "It's almost closing time," she said, winking again.

"I'd love to give my compliments to the chef," said Carla.

"That's nice," answered Yasmin, "but he's very shy, you know. I'll be sure to pass them on, though." Sipping her brandy, Yasmin sighed. "There aren't very many of us left. I'm afraid this place isn't going to be around much longer."

When she finished her drink she sighed and said, "Well, I'd better start cleaning up. Will you be charging this to your room?" Carla nodded. "That's room 154, correct?"

When Carla nodded again Yasmin's gaze lingered meaningfully on her own, and Carla felt her heart start to beat a little faster. Without saying another word, Yasmin spun on her heel and started to walk toward the kitchen; Carla watched her delightful rump sway back and forth until she finally disappeared through the door.

In their drunken condition it took Carla and Annabel even longer to get back to their room than it had to find the restaurant, but they finally made it. Turning on a single light in a sconce nestled in a corner of the room, Carla poured herself a glass of water and told Annabel to take her clothes off. When she was naked Carla found her collar in the suitcase and snapped it on, bound her wrists and ankles to the four bedposts, and sat down to wait for what she knew was coming.

* * *

For the next half-hour they just waited. Carla killed time stroking Annabel's nipples, playing with her pubic hair, and teasing her inner thighs, whipping her up into a fine frenzy. Finally there was a soft knock at the door, and even before Carla could answer it, it began to swing open. Yasmin stepped in and closed the door behind her; she was carrying a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, which she sat down on a sideboard. Kicking off her shoes, she glanced over at the naked blonde tied to the bed and lifted an eyebrow.

Smiling a mysterious Mona Lisa smile, Yasmin stepped over to where Carla was standing. They embraced, then kissed, then kissed harder. Carla reached both hands around to squeeze Yasmin's ass; it was pleasingly plump, firm yet yielding. Yasmin moaned into Carla's mouth as their tongues intertwined.

Next Carla took hold of the top of Yasmin's dress and popped her breasts out; she was braless underneath. They were utterly superb and Carla took a few moments to admire them before sucking on one, then the other. Her nipples were big, dark brown, and rock-hard; Carla gently closed her teeth on each one.

There was a moan of frustration from the bed, where the bound Annabel was annoyed at not being able to participate. Carla gazed over at her coolly, giving her a look that said "Soon enough."

Carla lifted Yasmin's dress up over her head and tossed it aside; she was now wearing nothing but black lace panties and knee-length black stockings. Carla whispered something in her ear and she nodded.

Turning, Yasmin climbed up onto the bed and stretched out full-length on top of Annabel. As they kissed Yasmin let one of her legs slip between Annabel's; Annabel humped it shamelessly, rubbing her attention-starved pussy against Yasmin's thigh, feeling the warmth of Yasmin's crotch against her own leg.

Carla looked on, slowly undressing as she watched the two women on the bed make out. After a few minutes Yasmin began to move down Annabel's body, sucking and licking her tits, nibbling her belly. Annabel's whole body went stiff when Yasmin's tongue touched her pussy. Then she arched her back and strained forward, greedy for more.

Coming up behind Yasmin, Carla fondled her rear for a minute, then let one hand find its way down between her legs. Probing up inside, Carla felt Yasmin's muscles clench against her finger. Then she decided she couldn't wait another second to taste this delectable specimen; she rolled over onto her back, pulled the crotch of Yasmin's panties aside, and started licking.