I – My Evil Stepmother
Why is it stepmothers are always portrayed as wicked? I'm thinking of all the old fairy stories - you know, Snow White, Cinderella, etc. - where the stepmother is always the villain of the piece. Maybe it has something to do with an (inevitably) younger woman replacing mother, breaking up the happy home, and causing pain and suffering to all concerned. (If that sounds a bit sexist it's probably because it is. For some reason the guilty husband is never branded in quite the same way - it's almost as if everybody understands how an older man can fall under the spell of a beautiful young woman, and they blame the woman not the man). But whatever the reason stepmothers are portrayed this way in fiction, in my case it wasn't just poetic licence, my stepmother really was wicked.
In fact she was a downright evil bitch!
It started when I was sixteen. My father and mother split up and father married a woman fifteen years his junior. As a result Mother was ousted from the family home and the new woman moved in. I have to say I hated her from the start, and I guess the feeling was probably mutual. I should explain this all took place many years ago - before the days of women's lib - and mother ended up losing her house, home, and family. It wouldn't happen today, but back then she was conned out of everything she had, including the prospect of a comfortable retirement. At the time I didn't really understand what was happening, and it was only a couple years later (when I was 18) I realised what she'd given up.
I guess I need to take time to explain how it all happened, not only because it sets the scene for my story, but also because in may in part justify what I did later. I like to think I'm an ordinary human being, and I don't want you to go away with the impression what I did was perverted and wholly unjustified. I mean it may well have been perverted, but I hope when you hear my tale you won't think it unjustified.
Anyway it wasn't entirely my fault and I didn't do it alone. I had a partner in crime - my mother to be exact!
I don't really know for sure why Mum and Dad split. If I had to guess I'd say it was Dad's roving eye that caused the problem - he was a real sucker for the Ladies. He was a charming man and I loved him very much, but he wasn't the strongest character in the world. I don't think he went out of his way to seduce other women; he just couldn't turn it down when it was offered on a plate. Unfortunately his charm and personality meant it was always being offered in three course meals, not just plates, and he seemed to have a ravenous appetite!
As I understand it, father did a deal with Mom when they split. The house was in his name and so was the business so he kept both, but he agreed to give mother a generous living allowance if she was prepared to leave and find a new life for herself. She agreed, partly because she loved my Dad very much and trusted him implicitly and partly for my sake. She thought if she went I could stay in my home, and as my Dad was a fairly wealthy man, I'd be better off in the long run.
So the deal was done and Mom moved into a rented flat in London. She didn't get any guarantees in writing as she trusted Dad, and for the first couple of years it all seemed to be working out. Mom wasn't very happy suddenly living alone at 55, but she had enough money to live on and I visited her every other weekend, staying overnight in her flat, so she felt she could make a life for herself.
My new Stepmother's name was Julia, and I have to say I wasn't very happy either. Julia was in her mid thirties and a right stuck-up bitch. She worked as a manager in the local hospital (which was unusual for a woman in those days), and she was as hard as nails. When she was around everything had to be clean and tidy and perfectly ordered. My home was replaced by a 'show house' for all the local dignitaries to visit, and she was forever castigating me for being untidy and disorganised.
After Mom left she employed a professional housekeeper to run the house, and Maria, the housekeeper, was almost as bad as Julia. She moaned at me constantly about the state of my room and my 'noisy' music, and sometimes I got the distinct impression she was under orders from Julia to try and drive me out. They'd both come down on me all the time for stupid little things (like leaving my coat on the bed), and they'd act as if I'd done something really terrible or disgusting. After just six months I was under such pressure I seriously thought about getting myself a flat, but I hated Julia so much I wasn't prepared to give her the satisfaction of forcing me out.
I tried talking to Dad about the problem but it was no use. He was infatuated with Julia, and as I've said he wasn't a particularly strong character. Mind you I could understand what he saw in her. She was a tall elegant woman with shoulder-length blond hair, who was always immaculately dressed in her smart, well-tailored, business suit. She spoke real classy, and she had these amazingly large breasts which always seemed on the verge of bursting through the top of the suit. Occasionally she'd leave a button or two undone; displaying the most daunting cleavage I ever did see. I don't know how she did it but she had this incredible erotic presence, and she eluded an aura of sexuality which would flood over you in waves. I mean she could turn you on (well she could turn me on anyway!) just by standing in the same room as you, and if she hadn't have been such a bitch I'd have fallen under her spell instantly. As far as I could tell she seemed to have the same effect on virtually every man she met, and it was no wonder she'd got such a high position in the hospital.
Julia, of course, was well aware of the effect she was having on all those around her, and she used her sexuality to make my Dad do whatever she wanted. Unlike most women she always dressed sexy when Dad was home, and she never seemed to get fed up with it or need encouragement. Her skirts were always shorter than when she was working, her cleavage more pronounced, and she would focus on those things a man finds particularly sexy. Stiletto heels, for instance, and fully-fashioned black seamed stockings were the standard evening attire. My dad always seemed to be drooling over her, but as much as I hated him for it, I was rapidly becoming a man myself and I could see where he was coming from. She was an unbelievably sexy woman, and I have to confess I masturbated many times to visions of her taking off her clothes for me and letting me fondle her breasts or stroke her stockings. I may have hated her but that didn't stop me wanting to bang the life out of her. I was only human after all!
So, as you can see, it was a pretty strange set-up in our house, what with Julia and the housekeeper.
We lived in Wimbledon in South London and the house wasn't that big, just four bedrooms, so it didn't take me long to start to wonder exactly what Julia saw in my Dad. He was quite a lot older than her, and although charming, it seemed to me she could have had many younger and more attractive men without any effort on her part. In the end I realised it was his business she was after (and the money of course). He owned and ran a number of private Rest Homes in the London area, and he was gradually expanding and opening more all the time. I think Julia saw great financial potential in this business and her ambition was to take over and control the whole enterprise.
The problems for my mother began when Julia decided she didn't want Dad wasting money giving it to Mum. I don't know how she did it but she persuaded Dad to go and see Mum and tell her he couldn't afford her allowance anymore. He told her he was sorry but he needed the money for the business. Obviously Mum got upset and angry with him and they had a blazing row, but Dad dug his feet in and left telling her he would stop the allowance the following month. When Mum got legal advice she discovered because she'd left of her own accord, and nothing was signed, she didn't have a leg to stand on.
Mother, as you can imagine, was devastated and left with no choice but to find herself a job. To her credit she found work as manageress in a dry cleaning shop, which although a come-down for her at least provided enough income to survive. Her life, however, had been changed beyond recognition, and she felt as if all her efforts up to that point had been entirely wasted. Understandably she became pretty depressed.
I was furious when I found out and I angrily confronted my father and stepmother. What on earth were they doing, I demanded to know. How could they do that to my Mother when Father was getting more wealthy, not less? I screamed and shouted at both of them, but it didn't do me any good. Dad just retreated in to his shell and mumbled something about needing the money, and Julia just told me it was none of my 'damn business', and to keep my nose out of it.
I remember standing in front of her, seething inside and eyeing her angrily, but she just stood there defiantly. Eventually I became abusive and she too got angry. She moved right up close and confronted me. I tried to tell her what I thought of her, but even in that situation I couldn't help being distracted by her cleavage which, as her anger increased, was heaving up and down only inches from my eye-line. Part of me wanted to look her in the eye and shout at her and tell her what a bitch she was, but another part of me wanted to drag down my gaze and feast on those magnificent breasts. Unfortunately it tends ruin the effect of an argument when you're shouting in someone's face but looking at their tits!
So anyway the deed had been done and there was nothing I could do. Julia was clearly in charge of our family and Dad and I had both been relegated to bit-players. I guess it wasn't so bad for dad, at least he could fuck Julia whenever he wanted, all I could do was swallow my pride and discharge my emotions by masturbating to visions of tearing off her clothes and raping the bitch!
It's strange you know, but back then I never thought I'd actually have a chance to do just that!
