Casey’s Secrets

I wasn’t quite ready for his scrutiny, but I stood as still as I could. It reminded me of every morning growing up, when he’d give me a critical look just before school, like the drill sergeant he’d been, in a former life. I didn’t think of him that way when I was younger, though. He was just this big, beautiful hero who I wanted desperately to please.

He still was. Except the pleasing part had acquired a different meaning entirely within the moments since I’d come home. Now, it felt the same way I’d felt getting the piercings. Secret, and dangerous. Even worse than the piercings, though. Almost too bad for me to continue. He was my stepdad, on paper. Yet his expression when I stood was distinctly less than paternal. He looked at me like a drill sergeant looks at a soldier who’d mouthed off. It was so close to how he’d look when I was little, but there was a distinct difference now.

When I was little, he’d make a play of it, straightening my clothes, then chucking me under the chin and kissing me on the forehead before I caught the school bus. “You’re always ship shape, Casey,” he said. “Keep up the good work, sailor.”

Now, he looked ready to punish me for something. Anything. It made me even shakier because I would take it if he felt I deserved it, even though I knew it was all a game, like it was years ago. Just a more grown-up version now.

“Did I do good?” I asked when I finally found my legs again.

He looked up at me and nodded. “You took it like a champ, baby. But we’re not done yet. I need to know more about this piercing of yours.”

I flinched back involuntarily when he reached out to tap a finger against the tiny silver orb that adorned the top of my clit. Even his small contact sent a thrill straight to my core. I had to close my eyes and take a slow, deep breath to keep my senses.

“What about it?”

“When did you get this? You’re barely eighteen. I know that might not matter, if you have a fake ID. I had one at sixteen. I was a crazy kid…”

“On my birthday,” I said, cutting him off.

“Oh? Is it the only one?”

I could have left him then. Just walked out. But he was in my room. I could go lock myself into my parents’ room and hide. In his room. Yet this moment seemed too perfect to let go. I’d never been this intimate with Max. My stepdad. My hero. I wanted more. It was no longer enough to have the validation of his approval. His slow questions made my heart beat ever faster. Even though he’d just made me come, I wanted his hands on me again. I wanted the complete surrender that I’d given him in that moment when I’d given it up to him with his finger on my clit.

“No. I have a few more,” I said. It was meant to be a challenge, but my voice was still so shaky it came out sounding more like a confession.

“Show me,” he said.

It felt like a game now. He wanted me to show myself to him, so I unbuttoned my shirt, sure he’d be livid at what he discovered once I displayed myself. I paused halfway, though. Not quite ready. I caught my breath.

“Casey, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said. His voice was so soft. It was the voice he used when I was a kid and afraid of monsters in my closet.

“I am afraid of you, you know.”

“What? Why?”

The tears welled up again. How the hell did I even express the way I felt? The constant need I had for his approval.

“I’m afraid if I show you, you’ll hate me,” I managed to snuffle out.

His dark brows creased and he rested both hands on my naked hips. His thumbs swept in soft arcs over my skin, making me wish he was touching me in other spots.

“I will never hate you, Casey. I signed on to love you when I married your mother. Don’t you remember the ring I gave you when I proposed to Tanya?”

I did remember. In fact that moment was the day I think I’d first fallen in love with Max, even though I was only six. I’d probably been in love with him for most of my life since that moment. Yet I’d never been so terrified that I’d lose his love until now. What would he think if he saw the rest of me?

I hesitantly opened my blouse and let it slide to the floor, then unclasped my bra at my back. I watched his face the entire time. He seemed to brace himself, his fingers gripping tighter at my hips, when I let the lacy bra fall to the floor and stood fully naked in front of him.

“Christ,” he whispered. He lifted a hand off my hip and with a gentle stroke traced the tattoo that adorned my ribcage just below my left breast. When he reached the top of the dark inkwork of the dragon, he hooked the tip of his finger through the hoop that pierced my left nipple. The tugging sensation incited fresh pleasure in my core, and I gasped.

“Why did you do this to yourself, baby? You were so perfect without all this hardware and ink.”

“Because it felt good,” I said, deciding to be completely honest. “I loved the pain when I got them. And they feel so good now.” So, so good with you touching them.

“Don’t cry, baby. You’re beautiful. Do you have any idea what you can do with these, though?”

“J-just feel good, I guess?” I still remembered my mission when I’d gotten them. Partly it had been asserting my self control now that I was technically an adult. Mostly I’d wanted to feel something intense for the first time in my life. I’d been such a good girl my whole childhood, but growing up with Max as my stepdad had been mesmerizing. He’d been intense, yet I’d never been more than his little girl. Like I was in some kind of bubble that couldn’t be sullied by the emotion he seemed to keep to himself. I wanted to feel a little bit of what I thought he felt, with his scars and tattoos.

The tattoo had been the first thing I tried, and the memory of the pain still gave me a rush. After that, I’d had my nipples pierced with twin steel hoops. I couldn’t stop there, once it was done. When I asked the tattooist what other options I had that I could hide easily, he’d hedged. When I told him I didn’t want my navel pierced because it sounded too cliche, he hesitated and then pulled out a binder with photos of women’s privates and the dazzling jewelry that was nestled in each unique arrangement of soft, pink flesh.

“I want this,” I’d said, pointing at a photo with the pink hood of a woman’s clit, run through with a curved steel bar capped on both ends with little spheres.

I had no other plans after that. The pain was so sweet. It made me feel powerful. Like I could endure anything if I could endure that. What I couldn’t endure was Max’s disappointment, however.

“No, baby. These are meant for much, much more than simply feeling good.” He tugged lightly at each of the hoops. “They’re meant to make you feel ~everything~.”