"Yeah, suck my cock, slut... god that feels so good..."
Ashleigh smiled around the cock of the boy thrusting in and out of her mouth, sucking at it a bit harder. She was lying on her back in the middle of a group of men, some who she knew, some who she didn't. Her best friend had just turned twenty one and of course threw a party, complete with alcohol, illicit drugs, and an endless supply of sex.
Ashleigh had a cock in each of her hands, and she stroked and pumped them to the best of her ability, spreading their pre-cum over the lengths of the shafts. The greedy boys were reaching for her tits, squeezing the mounds of flesh in their hands, pinching and twisting her nipples until they were dark with abuse. Her legs were spread open and she had a dick shoved in each of her holes, two boys pounding at her dripping slit and her gaping asshole. She didn't know how many other boys stood off in the shadows, stroking themselves, waiting for their turn. There were other girls at the party, other whores they could have banged, other mouths to fuck. But Ashleigh was the best of them. And they knew it.
The boy who was pounding her pussy began to increase his pace, driving into her as hard as he could, and she arched her back at the feeling. "Yeah, fuck that sweet cunt, spray your jizz deep inside of her!" The voice came from somewhere to her right. Above her, the guy that was fucking her mouth began to moan loudly, grabbing her face with his hands and thrusting in and out of her mouth frantically. "Yeah, you like that, bitch?" she heard him say. "You like it when I fuck your face like this?" She moaned enthusiastically, sending vibrations up his dick, bringing the boy closer and closer to release. A mess of saliva and pre-cum dribbled out the sides of her lips, down her cheeks and her chin. He was going to cum soon. She wanted him to cum on her tongue, wanted him to shoot his sweet sperm straight down her throat. She swirled the tip of her tongue around his head, sucking as hard as she could, until there was no more air left in her mouth.
There were moans on either side of her, and she felt something wet and sticky land on her chest, followed by rough hands spreading the cum across her tits. She took her hand off of the spent cock and latched onto her aching clit, rubbing the hood, bringing herself to the edge. The cocks in her ass and her pussy began to spasm, and then several pulses of hot liquid shot into both of her holes. The boy in her mouth was bucking against her face, and she arched her back, pressing on her clit as hard as she could, and then she came, seconds before him, a hot jet of sticky cum shooting into her mouth, sliding down her throat, dripping out the sides of the mouth that was still wrapped around his pulsating cock. She moaned loudly, riding the waves of her own orgasm as they shot through her. The boy pulled slowly out of her mouth, allowing her to lick the last drops of cum off the tip of his dick, before he stepped away, spent.
Ashleigh smiled and licked her lips seductively, lapping up the last remnants of the boy's cum. Then she looked around suggestively.
"Who's next?"
Molly was sitting on the sofa in the living room, zoning out to the television. Her stepdaughter Ashleigh had stayed out late again. Molly tried to police the girl's actions, to establish some kind of order in the house, but Ashleigh had grown ever more rebellious since her father left.
Molly's first marriage had ended in a flurry of accusations and tears, and in her growing need for companionship and someone to take away the pain, she began serial dating. It was during this time that she met David. He was sweet, caring, and sensitive, and understood the pain that her ex-husband had left her with; it was the same pain his own ex-wife had inflicted upon him. They clung to each other out of desperation, inseparable from the beginning. David's visits to her house soon became nights slept over, and within weeks he had practically moved in. Six months later they were married.
David had a daughter from his own previous marriage; Ashleigh was nineteen when they met, and she was not happy to have Molly around. She was already rather edgy at the time, strutting around town with other loose cannons on the fringes of society, getting drunk and high in strangers' basements. Molly suspected now that she had done it for the attention; the divorce of her parents had driven her close to the edge. And Molly's presence had not helped the situation. David would bring her to Molly's house when he could, preferring she stay there rather than pass out in the bed of someone he didn't know. Ashleigh resisted as much as she could; her dislike of Molly was visible, and Molly, having no experience with wayward daughters, loathed the girl with an equal fervor.
David's attempts to care for his daughter were poor, as much as he felt he should be doing so; and Molly, caring nothing for the girl, ignored Ashleigh's behaviour, reasoning that it was her choice to ruin her life. Besides, she and David were both wrapped up in their own heartache and the love they thought they felt for each other, and did not pay much attention to Ashleigh's spiraling out of control anyway; and she was pushed over the edge without either of them noticing. That is, until their own marriage started falling apart. The two were never compatible, not even from the start, their only connection being a comparable need to nurse the wounds of their previous marriages and to not be alone. But two years later, they both fell into disillusionment, each exaggerating the other's flaws and fighting at every chance they could. Coupled with the stress of Ashleigh's defiant activities, their flimsy marriage was pushed past the breaking point. Eventually David decided he could take no more, of either Molly or his own wayward daughter, who he had no idea how to control, and he left the both of them for a pretty blonde with blue eyes and voluptuous tits, and no children to speak of.
Ashleigh was left alone with her stepmother.
To say their relationship was strained would be a gross understatement. The twenty year old refused to listen to Molly, always taunting her with claims of, "You're not even my real mother!" She left the house at all times of the day and night and returned – or didn't – whenever she so pleased. She had barely made it through community college the previous year, and had given up and dropped out once her father left. She resented Molly for being the reason her father left her, and treated the woman a little better than she would a pile of shit.
Molly, herself, was no better. She never much liked the little brat, especially since Ashleigh had been trying to get rid of her since she met David. She could not believe it when he left and didn't take her with him – having to live alone with the girl just added insult to injury.
She heard the lock click on the front door and jumped up, striding furiously into the foyer. Her stepdaughter stumbled over the threshold, swaying slightly and reeking of alcohol and sweat and something else foul. She slammed the door behind her, falling back onto it and raising her head. Her dirty blonde hair hung lank and unruly about her face; red lipstick was smeared across one of her cheeks, and remnants of black makeup faded into dark circles around her eyes. Molly stood in front of her, arms crossed over her chest, scowling at the pathetic excuse for a girl. Ashleigh scoffed, snarled, "The fuck are you looking at?" and began making her way clumsily up the stairs.
"Where do you think you're going young lady?" Molly asked in a stern voice. Ashleigh didn't respond.
"Come back down here this instant!"
"Go to hell," was Ashleigh's slurred reply. She reached the landing and turned left down the hallway.
Molly took three deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, and followed her stepdaughter up the stairs. The door to the bathroom was ajar, and she could hear retching noises coming from inside. She peeked in the doorway as she walked past and saw Ashleigh with her head resting on the toilet bowl, eyes half open. Molly shook her head in disgust, closed the door, and retreated to her room.
The next evening found Molly sitting upstairs on Ashleigh's bed, this time with a belt in her hands.
Ashleigh had gone out again. She didn't bother to sneak, even though Molly told her that morning she was expressly forbidden to leave the house. She just strolled right out the front door like the little bitch that she was. After last night, Molly decided that she was sick and tired of dealing with her behaviour, and that Ashleigh was going to have to be disciplined.
The front door opened, but Molly didn't move, instead waiting for Ashleigh to make her way upstairs to her room. After a few minutes the door opened and Ashleigh fell across the threshold. When she saw Molly sitting on her bed her eyes narrowed, but then they widened considerably once she saw what Molly held in her hands.
"Where the hell have you been?" Molly said in a measured voice.
Ashleigh didn't respond; she was too busy eyeing the belt in Molly's hands.
