Stepmother’s Plan 3

Stepmother’s Plan 2 (

Marriane Vasilli watched in horror as her father fell to the ground. Blood flowed out and reddened the carpet beneath him. His eyes, those gray eyes, were staring at her apologetically. He struggled to say something but the blood in his mouth forced him to choke agonizingly. Then he stopped moving. His eyes cold, staring emptily at his daughter.

Marriane didn’t know what to do. She stood there and hugged her new plushy teddy bear. Questions flooded her head. What was happening to her father? Why was there blood? Why was her father hurt? What was that loud bang she heard moments before her father fell to the ground?

She turned to her mother whom was naked on the dining table. Three other men were doing something to her, making her scream for help. Marriane couldn’t really see what was going on but whatever they were doing, her mother really didn’t like it.

Then a man grabbed Marriane by her ponytail. The ponytail that her father had helped her tie just few hours ago. It hurt her and she too started screaming. The guy tossed her on the ground and snatched away her teddy. He snarled at the teddy in disgust before throwing it away. He didn’t seem too nice. His eyes were bloodshot crazy. He began to tear open Marriane’s dress, the dress her mother bought for her today.

Today was her birthday. She didn’t feel happy at all. She was scared. She wanted to hide. But the man already pressed her down with his huge hand. She knew not what else to do but to shut her eyes and silently sang the birthday song. She would ignore everything else. The pain of her chest. The pain between her legs. The pain on her back. She would ignore all of those and sang. It’s her birthday. There should be a birthday song, she thought to herself.

Marriane didn’t know how long she had been laying there. The surrounding was warm despite it was still winter. She tried to move but was unable to. Something heavy was pressing on her hips. She opened her eyes and saw the morning sun, shining brightly at her. The cold breeze brushed her cheeks.

The last thing she remembered was her mother clutching her chest while dragging Marriane by the arm. It was hot inside. Very hot. She saw fire everywhere. She looked at her mother. Her eyes were red and there were tears, but strangely, she was smiling. Her face looked paled. Her chest was red. With one last strength, her mother threw Marriane out of the window. She landed on the soft snow below and blacked out.

“Someone’s here.” Mariane heard someone yelled before succumbing to exhaustion and passed out once again.

Eighteen years later…

Ms. M stood contentedly as she looked at the man tied to the dining chair. The man snarled and spat at her. The saliva hit the floor pathetically, completely missing the woman.

“You whore.” he hissed angrily in Russian.

“It’s over for you.” Ms. M grinned as she waved a flashdrive in front of him. The drive contained enough details of money laundering and drug dealing the police would have a field trip with it. “You are going to be in jail for a very long time.”

“You better make sure they keep me there. Because if I come out, I will fucking rape you, and then fucking kill you and your family!” he spat.

“Well. You don’t have to.” Ms. M walked to the man and grabbed his hair. She tugged him hard and he groaned. Placing her mouth near his ear, she whispered, “Because you already have.”

The man grimaced. Memories began to flood his mind. A few seconds later, he sucked in a sharp breath as the realization struck him.

“It can’t be.”

“I’m Marriane Vasilli. Yuri Vasilli’s daughter. The 5 year old girl you raped.” she reminded him before drawing her suppressed P99 and shot him in the leg.

He instantly screamed in pain as the bullet punctured his calf. The man then groaned, his teeth clenched as he tried to endure the pain. He then threw his head back and heaved.

“There is a saying in the bible. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.” Ms. M turned on the television. A woman could be seen tied to a dining table. A blindfold covered the upper half her face. Each limb was secured to each corner of the table. “I have a little video for you to watch. Do you know who’s that?” Ms. M asked.

It took him a second to realize who the restrained woman. He didn’t have to see her face to know who she was. The dark spot on the left side of her stomach was enough for him to know. It was his daughter. When he did, he went into a struggling frenzy. “You fucking whore! I’m going to kill you.”

“Shh…it’s starting.” Ms. M said.

A man with tattoos all over his arms came into view. The camera shifted from a full body view to the frontal view of her pussy. Her pubic hair was already removed much earlier. When a tattooing needle came to view, the tied man yelled a myriad of vulgarity at Ms. M. But his yell didn’t stop the needles from tinting her pussy. There was a sharp scream coming through from the speaker when the needle hit the labia.

“Stop. Just kill me. Shoot me now. Please.” he begged.

“Shoot you? Where’s the fun in that?” Ms. M scoffed.

“Please. Just stop. I’m sorry. Please. Don’t hurt my daughter.” he pleaded. Tears rolled down his cheeks. The eyes he had now reminded her of her father. The apologetic stare that conveyed helplessness. She almost wanted to stop but she knew she mustn’t. This man deserved to be hurt like how he had hurt her father, her mother, and her. The scum deserved to be punished.

“This is only the beginning. Enjoy.” Ms. M hissed victoriously before leaving the hotel room. Before the door completely closed, she heard him curse angrily at her. When the door closed, his curse was instantly muffled to an unintelligible hum.

She walked out of the hotel and the cold winter wind blew across her rosy cheeks. She breathed in the cold air and released a puff of vapor in front of her. The smell of freezing air was strong. It reminded her of her mother’s smile. The last smile she cast at her before throwing her out.

Detective Sokolov was already at the parking lot, leaning against his car and popping a smoke. He’s a beefy man with a strong conscience. He had been assigned to the Vitera’s case for years without any success. When he saw Ms. M approching, he took another draw of the cigarette before throwing the bud into a pile of snow.

“You have it?” he asked. Ms. M threw the flashdrive to him and he caught with one hand. He went back to his car, picked out his laptop and slotted the drive into the port. It took the laptop some time to start up, when it did and the window popped out revealing all sorts of incriminating evidence, he smiled.

“How do you get all these?”

“From his computer. When he’s asleep.”

“You really helped us a lot. Thanks.”

“No problem. By the way, I shot him in the leg. It will take about an hour for him to bleed out.” Ms. M said.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just shoot him in the head.”

“Nyet. Killing him is just too easy.” Ms. M explained and walked away.

“Why are you helping us?” the detective called out to her as she reached her car.

“A personal errand.” Ms. M said and then slid into the seat of the Ford. She gunned the engine and drove away, leaving the detective to settle with the rest of it.

Her heart clinched the moment she drove into the highway. A small suppressed sob escaped. She tried to hold it in. She was supposed to feel happy. She did have her revenge anyways. But there’s nothing in her heart. She felt empty. She couldn’t feel anything.

All these while, she had been trying to find the men who did all those awful things to her. She had the three of them sent to federal prison last year. The final one was just a moment ago. Her life long goal was accomplished. She should be over the sky now. She always believed that. That happiness was something she could achieve when she had her revenge. But the sense of happiness that she had anticipated for eighteen years was unexpectedly short lived. Because she finally realized that she no longer had a purpose to live anymore.

Driving on the dark road, she remembered the little girl that wanted to hide away, who sang her own birthday song during her darkest moments. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Fortunately for her, before the sobs could break open into a full blown wail, her cellphone rang.

“Yeah.” she answered.

“How did it go?” Luther asked.

“As planned.” she managed to say without sobbing. “Where did you get such a convincing actress?”

“She’s not an actress.” Luther said and Ms. M finally knew why the screams were so convincing. “A client of mine wants to teach his ex a lesson for sleeping with other men behind his back.” he added.

“The tattoo? Your client’s idea?” She asked again to avoid falling into silence. Silence would make her weep. She wouldn’t weep. Not in front of Luther.


“I didn’t stay to watch. What did he draw?”

“He didn’t draw. He wrote ‘fucking whore’ on her pussy.”

“That’s cruel.”

“My client’s a sick bastard. But he pays a lot.”

“Thank you for doing this”

“You kidding me? You helped me quite a lot in the past. Besides, all I did was putting the birthmark on her stomach.”

“Yeah. That is a very good move.” Ms. M finally couldn’t hold anymore and let out a sob at the end.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Just…a bit lost.” she let out another sob. She tilted her head to hold the accumulating mucus forming in her nasal cavity.

“I have a job that might require you. Any interest?”


“Come to Wisconsin the day after tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“Okay. See you there.”

Stepmother’s Plan 4 (


About robsam1991

Even though my stories depicts rapes and violence on women(mostly), i never once condone the action. Not even the slightest. In fact, i despise men who rape women. I never agreed on that women who wear provocative clothing were to be blame on for the rape; though they should take precautions when necessary to avoid risk. As a man, i think it's our responsibility to control ourselves and never let our urge out on innocent people. If you feel like raping someone, then treat a girl nicely so that she would opt for a role play where you can play out a 'rape' on her satisfyingly. Please use safe word.
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