Under Her Thumb

I sincerely hope that the readers will enjoy this submission. This story is a multi-chapter love story that is a bit of a slow building tease. If one is only looking for a quick 'Whack-N-Splash, this story may not be for you. I prefer to focus more on plot, emotions and characters.

This story contains smut that some may find offensive (It is on Literotica, right?) Those not of age to read adult fiction should exit now. All characters are over 18. This story and its characters are a work of fiction. ... blah blah blah...

Feedback and voting is greatly appreciated. This story is subject to copyright.

DomDomain ©2015.

{<{1}>}

It had been nine years, and Steve had the escalating fear that his marriage was about to tank. Steve was normally a happy guy; laid-back and for the most part optimistic. He was discovering lately, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get through to his wife, Sheira, anymore. He loved her and his step-daughter, Beata, very much and was devastated to feel his betrothed slowly drifting away. That spark she used to have in her eyes when looking at him now seemed frozen and snuffed out buy her own cold, driving ambition. Sheira worked as an executive assistant for a top-tier insurance firm. It dominated a high-rise in an affluent area of down town Vancouver. She worked long hours, seemingly more every year. Steve and Beata felt like they hardly saw her anymore. On the rare occasions when he did see her, he'd learned not to waste his time arguing with her about it. Whenever he mentioned the hours, the business trips and conferences, she would deflect it and say, "What??... Do was have to go over this crap

again

?" Then she would sarcastically remind him who brought in the most money and that she was

very

happy about that. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the only thing she was happy about. It certainly wasn't him, or her daughter Beata for that matter.

Steve had married Sheira when he was twenty-six, he'd fallen head over heals for the petite, outgoing blond. He had always been a quiet loner, and was surprised when she sort of fell into his life. He had a few close friends and socialized, but due to his shyness, he never seemed to attract the opposite sex very often. Steve was far more at peace in the forest, working as a low paid forestry officer. Steve was a burly, resourceful man, sensitive and caring to others. He could be very passionate, but usually a man of very few words.

Dazzled by her curvaceous beauty, and sophisticated style, Steve was knocked off his feet by Sheira. She'd attached herself to him at a party his friends had forced him to attend. The way she talked, the way she smelled and moved were absolutely hypnotic to him. Her sapphire blue eyes captivated him and left him powerless against her spell.

She'd been married once before and had a daughter that was eight when she'd married Steve. He and Beata got along great from their first day together. He'd taken the girl and her mother whale watching out of Horseshoe Bay in the Zodiac he used for island forest inspection. Beata gushed and thought it was the coolest thing ever when killer whales surrounded their boat, their exhaling spouts spraying high into the air around them. Sheira was not so cool with it, terrified that the whales would capsize the smallish boat they were in.

From that day forward, Steve made an effort to be open and available to his new family and could tell that was exactly what Beata needed and Sheira was initially grateful for. The little waif of a girl seemed starved for attention. It became apparent to Steve that she'd had little interaction or emotional bonding from her mother. To Steve, the best way he could describe their relationship, was tense and competitively argumentative. Sheira had a very practical and driven personality; for her, it was all about the numbers. While Beata, on the other hand, was a very artistic and creative minded soul, with little time for the mundane. Needless to say, Steve was often forced into the roll of mediator whenever the fur started flying. The head-butting between the two increased as Beata went into her teens. Steve had been concerned more than once that their arguments would escalate into physical violence. On one occasion, the burly, six-foot-two, two hundred twenty pound man was forced to tower over the two, holding the flailing, profanity spewing pair away from each other. Eventually, he'd tired of the caterwauling and sat them forcefully at opposite ends of the kitchen table. His strength and speed shocked the petite little firecrackers, freaking them out enough to keep them from killing each other.

Just because Steve was quiet and easy going didn't mean he was without his limits. He had a very low threshold for unnecessary drama and disrespectful behavior. If pushed far enough, he would snap and become someone you really didn't want to mess with. It took a lot to abuse his patience, but look out if one was stupid enough to force him into that zone.

For the first five years or so, the arrangement seemed to work and the trio got along well enough. Beata had never had a male role model, and it took some initial adjustment after they'd all moved in together. In a short time, she had formed a powerful bond with Steve and grew to love him as a father and treated him with the utmost respect. Physically, Beata was a carbon copy of her mother. She possessed the same hauntingly beautiful blue eyes as well as a slimmer, lankier, teenage version of her mother's body. One could tell the pale, five-foot, platinum blond would look much like her golden blond mother once puberty had fully taken affect.

At the start, Steve and Sheira's romantic life had been wonderful, with his wife praising him constanty as a skilled and giving lover. This was another thing that confused him greatly. He couldn't understand why, as of the last two years, she seemed to have little interest in him sexually. He had always taken care to be sensitive to her sexual needs and was tender and affectionate with her throughout their daily lives. Yet she drifted further and further away, so caught up in her career and bank account that nothing else seemed to matter.

Beata felt the chill as well and it affected her deeply. She gravitated more to Steve with each passing day, basking in his warmth, love and affection. They were drawn together to escape the vacuum of emotion that Sheira had become. In her need for comfort, Beata had taken to cuddling with Steve on the couch whenever they watched TV. She would frequently sit in his lap whenever she was sad and needed reassurance that somebody cared. It broke his heart that the woman he loved could treat him and her own daughter so callously. He'd brought up family counseling to Sheira only to be shot down and blown off as being 'melodramatic.' Steve honestly didn't know where else to turn or what else to do.

In the end, Steve was given the answer in the harshest possible way. A cowardly letter from Sheira left on the stone topped island in the kitchen. In cold black and white, it informed him that she'd left him for her boss and would contact him from her new office in Toronto to hash out the details of their separation. Steve was absolutely devastated and Beata was furious, hurt and completely, utterly broken. The poor girl cried herself to sleep every night for weeks. Steve wasn't much better; his heart had been blown to pieces by the betrayal. He found it difficult to help Beata, but did his best considering his own emotional state. Steve cuddled with her often and gave her as much time and affection as possible.

"Daddy... Daddy, are you home?" Beata called to Steve. She seemed to have reverted in maturity since her mother left, her mind unable to process the magnitude of her pain and loss. She'd just gotten home from band practice and was feeling incredibly lonely and vulnerable.

"I'm in here BabyBea," Steve called from his office. His hours varied greatly and he happened to be on a 'work from home day.'

"Daddy, oh thank God," the seventeen year old said as she rushed to him and settled into Steve's lap, hugging him hard and burying her face into his broad chest, "I'm so happy you're home Daddy, I've needed a hug from you all day. The only place I feel like anybody really cares is when I'm with you... I love you Daddy," she said in her quiet, little girl voice, her tears wetting the lapel of his shirt. Even though she was six months away from being eighteen, when she was in this lost, lonely state of mind, she came across like a young child. It broke Steve's heart and he would always wrap her in his large, powerful arms and rock her.

"I love you too Sweetheart," he whispered into her hair, "You know I'll always be here for you, it's ok Baby." He held her firmly, rocking the distraught girl, while she sobbed on his chest. Even though he'd only known Beata nine out of her seventeen years, he loved her more than life itself; especially now that they only had each other to lean on. Steve ran his fingers gently up and down her back and through her silky, white-blond hair; it always worked to calm her down. After a few minutes her sobs slowed and with a big sigh, Beata grew quiet and peaceful.

"Hey kiddo," he said softly, "how bout you go finish up a bit of homework while I finish up mine too, then I promise I'll take you out to the fish and chips joint on the wharf."

"Ok, that sounds really good Daddy. Can we get ice cream at Max's after, and walk around the Quays?"

"Sure Bea, if that will put a smile on your face, you bet we can kid."

Beata gave him a big, pearly smile and kissed him on the cheek, saying "Thanks Daddy," before bounding up to her room. She loved going down to Lonsdale Quays, just a few minutes from their house over looking Burrard inlet in North Vancouver. They would browse through the public markets and restaurants, periodically taking in a show, or sometimes they'd go paddle boarding around the bay in front of the Quay. Steve thought it would be a good distraction for them and just maybe give Beata a little reprieve from the grief and guilt she still held over her mother leaving.

Two days after the 'Letter Incident,' Steve had found Beata curled in a ball on the floor of her bedroom bawling like a baby. She'd found an old house coat Sheira had not bothered to take with her and had it wrapped around her like a security blanket. Steve scooped the hundred pound teen into his arms and sat, rocking her on his lap. She kept repeating over and over that it was her fault that her mom had left.

"Sweetie, that's enough," he said with a firm voice, breaking her chant, "It's not your fault that your mother found another man and ran away with him like a coward."

"Yeah but, but.... If I had been nicer to her... listened to her...," she choked out through racking sobs.

"Shhhhh Baby... It's ok Baby, I understand why you feel that way, but this has nothing to do with you. She just let her own selfishness overrule everything else, including us. Please don't let that woman make you feel that this was in any way your responsibility," he said earnestly.

Ever since that day, he felt Beata was starting to get it, but she still had moments of doubt, thinking that she was the cause of all the heartache they were now facing. It was a constant battle for Steve to keep her in a healthy place when grieving her abandonment. In a strange way, it was almost therapeutic looking after his stepdaughter, trying hard to protect her from the more destructive feelings. As the days passed, Steve grew to love Beata more and more, feeling incredibly protective of her. More than anything, he just wanted to make her happy and bring back the smiley girl he had grown to love.

{<{2}>}

Six months later and things had gotten into a comfortable routine around the Anderson house. Beata had just celebrated her eighteenth birthday and spent a little more time with her friends. She was doing well in school, but still tended to act very young and girly-girl around Steve. When she was younger, before her mother left, she had displayed an interest in boys and had even gone on a few dates. Post divorce however, she showed virtually no interest in guys and tended to stay around the house most weekends. She did have friends stay over fairly often, and on rare occasion, stayed over at her girlfriend's homes for sleepovers. When asked about it, she'd told Steve that her friends really liked staying at their house. They loved the calm, laid-back nature of their home as well as the incredible view when sun bathing out on the terrace.

She still cuddled with Steve every chance she got and often fell asleep in the evenings with her head on his lap while he stroked her pale locks. Ever since she was little, her parents used to joke about what a heavy sleeper Beata was. Steve teased that a dump truck could back into her room, drop a load of pianos next to her bed and she still wouldn't wake up. It often took a firm shaking and a near yell in her ear to get the kid moving. This had not changed and if anything, once a teen, Beata's sleep seemed more like a coma. Steve was frequently able to lift the slight girl up and carry her to bed, tuck her in, without her ever waking.

The other thing that had resurfaced after the split was Beata's sucking her thumb when she slept. Steve had become very worried about her. He read a piles of research about this and her other child-like tendencies that had arisen post divorce. The psychology books seemed synonymous that this behavior was not uncommon in these types of circumstances. They said, with consistent care and love that she would eventually get over it. Her mother was less than useless when he talked to her about it on the phone. She had made a token effort towards trying to sue for custody, a few months after the break up. Steve got the distinct feeling that it was for the sole purpose of getting out of child support payments. Sheira gave up the effort once Beata made it clear that it would be a 'frosty day in hell before she would look at that bitch again.'

Not once since Sheira left, had her daughter spoken to her, and it seemed that wouldn't change any time soon. Beata was adamant that she would never forgive her mom for hurting them and treating them so shabbily. Interestingly enough, the judge that had ruled over their case was none too happy with Sheira either. Considering she didn't even bother to show up for the hearing. After hearing testimony from Beata, Steve and Sheira's counsel via video conference, the peeved judge had awarded Steve full custody. He even went so far as to award alimony on top of child support to Steve, due to Sheira's considerably higher wages. Steve thanked his lucky stars that he'd adopted Beata a couple of years after marrying her mother. If he hadn't gone through with it, none of this would have happened the way it did. Beata would have been forced to live with her mother, regardless of how she felt.

Steve was very grateful for Beata's oldest friend, Ginny, whom had been an awesome support for his daughter. Thankfully, she spent a fair amount of time at their house, giving her at least a little 'girl time' and pleasant distraction from recent events. As of late, it seemed that Steve had acquired two daughters, neither of which his own flesh and blood. Just the same, he much preferred the smiles and happy giggles when the two got together.

It was early evening; Beata and Ginny were lying on the floor in front of Steve watching TV. Ginny was a cute, perky little brunette, about five-three with a smallish but shapely bust and an athletic build. Like Beata, she was wearing very form fitting yoga pants and a tank top. They were lying on the thick shag area rug directly in front of him. It was impossible as a red blooded male, not to notice the two perfectly round, bubble butts right in front of his face. As much as Steve didn't want to acknowledge even looking, both were beautiful, he had to admit Beata's slightly fuller, cheekier backside was nicer. He immediately felt a wash of guilt. He shouldn't even be comparing the two, considering he was looking at his beautiful step-daughter and her lovely friend. Even though he was trying desperately not to look, he just couldn't help staring at the fine, young bottoms poised like a smorgasbord before him. The girls were off in their own little world, watching yet another inane reality show. This one involved some surgically enhanced, botoxed housewives with no discernable talent, or reason for being on his TV.

Before Steve could really think about it, he was struck with a major reaction. Quite suddenly his pants had become very uncomfortable. It had been so long since he'd been intimate with a woman. The view of these eighteen-year-old girl's perfect little asses was incredible. Their smooth, firm, barely concealed curves drew his eye like lightening. When their cheeks jiggled as they laughed, it truly overpowered his will to look away. Before the girls could notice his condition, he hopped up and rushed to the master bathroom. Behind the locked door, he pulled his incredibly hard penis out of his jeans, and couldn't help but stroke it. As though burned into his mind, pictures of thinly clad teen bottoms were fueling his unstoppable arousal. Within moments, Steve was on the cusp of a powerful orgasm, guilt was the only factor holding off his climax. The fact that he was so taken by the young women as a thirty-six-year-old man was causing conflict enough. The fact that one of them was the step-daughter he loved more than anything in the world, increased the conflict a thousand fold. Just thinking about Beata brought the picture of her perfect bum to the forefront of his mind. The image of the thin, stretchy material, drawn tightly into the deep cleft of her cheeky butt was too much. The pants showed off every detail of her delectable ass and puffy pussy. A subtle, concave dent on either side of Beata's bum-crack showed off the enticing location of her tiny anus. Her pussy was clearly displayed by the spandex molding itself to her mound; her puffy outer labia formed a tantalizing image.

That was it; a massive breath escaped his lungs as the picture of his teen daughter's backside painted across his mind's eye, pushed him forcefully into release. Spurt after heated spurt, pulsed and splashed into the water of the toilet. Steve had to keep his jaws firmly clenched to keep from calling out, as his body was wracked with illicit pleasure. Steve sat down hard on the john to get his wobbly legs under control, his ragged breaths whistling through his clenched teeth.

'Holy shit!"

he thought,

'what the fuck was that?? I can't remember the last time I came that hard... What the hell is the matter with me? What kind of sick fuck thinks of his step-daughter and cums that hard?"

Steve's thoughts were a maelstrom of self recrimination and guilt. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get the picture of Beata's beautiful ass out of his addled head. "Just stop it for fuck sakes," he whispered to himself as he shook his skull rapidly. He was so embarrassed that he didn't think he could face the girls after that. Just the thought of leaving the washroom rattled him. How could he trust himself not to show his true, sick thoughts?

'They'll read me like a book if I go out there now,'

he thought as his breathing started to calm.

It took another ten minutes before Steve felt safe to come out of the can. He was so disgusted with himself that he elected to stay in his room, lying down on his bed to wallow in self loathing. Fifteen minutes later, his eyes still tightly closed, he felt his bed jar from the impact of two rambunctious girls, giggling as they came to a bouncy landing.

"Daddy, can you take Ginny and I down to the mall for a bit?... Please, please Daddy," Beata pleaded in her best little girl voice. Ginny was smiling as beautifully at him as his daughter.