Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Daddy's been watching me a lot lately. I noticed it as soon as I turned 18; when I eat, when I sleep, when I shower, when I get dressed. Wherever I go, I can feel his hungry eyes on me, but I never say a thing. He's always had a strong, dominating temper that I try my best not to activate, but sometimes its the smallest things that gets him mad at me. After years of living alone with him, I've learned to submit and do what he says- "Be a good boy".
I guess I'd say I'm more naive than other boys my age. My Dad doesn't let me hang out with other people too often. I'm too busy with chores anyway- so busy that for the bulk of my life, I've been homeschooled. That's what Daddy calls it anyway. I've never really been taught anything. He just likes it when I don't leave the house and keep it clean, both while he's gone and work and when he's home. I don't mind. I just want to make him happy and be good. I don't remember ever wanting anything else. I'm only 5'2" with a very slight build, so someone like Daddy is easily intimidating. I don't know how tall he is exactly, but much taller than me and with a lot more muscle. He has to spend a lot of his free time building his body up himself because his job doesn't really demand it. He owns a company and mostly sits behind a desk in a suit, ordering people to do things. When he comes home, he goes straight for his workout room in the basement. I know because it's always my job to clean it up right after. Sometimes I try to use the equipment like Daddy, but I'm much too scrawny.
When Daddy comes home from work, he's almost always stressed and takes a lot of that out on me. I'm okay with it. I'm used to it. And sometimes I deserve it when I'm a bad boy. I need to be punished when I'm bad. Daddy taught me that it makes me better. It usually just involves him yelling at me and shoving me towards the bathroom to scrub clean or something. Sometimes, he'll lock me in my small room in the basement. For as scary as he can be, I think my Dad is pretty merciful and I appreciate that.
But like I said, things had been different lately. He's been much more easily agitated and I think it's because he's holding back. What? I don't know. Maybe it's something at work (which I'm not allowed to ask about). Everything I do pisses him off as of late. Just yesterday, I left a light on in the upstairs hallways and Daddy called me upstairs from my room, his voice billowing through the house.
"MAAAX!"
I scrambled upstairs from my room, taking a deep breath and pushing through the door into the kitchen. The basement is much colder and damper than the rest of the house. Warm, dry air billows back into my face as I tentatively enter the kitchen.
"Yes, Sir?"
Daddy is standing next to the kitchen table with his arms crossed. There are only two chairs at our table. There isn't a need for any more.
"You left a light on upstairs. What did I tell you about that?" He asked, still in his sharp suit from work. His eyes a steely gray but in my mind, they appear red with frustration. I shuffle uncomfortably and stare at the floor.
"It wastes power."
"I said to not fucking do it. Understand?"
"Yes. Sorry, Sir."
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." He commanded and I immediately obeyed. His eyes weren't as filled with anger and hate as I thought they'd be though. He stared at me with a different type of look- like he wanted something. He wanted something BAD. I watched his eyes travel down my tight t-shirt to my sweatpants that were much too small for me ever since I started getting older. I think I've had them since I was three sizes smaller.
"You're clearly not listening, so I'll have to teach you a lesson. Understand?" Daddy asked, his voice sounding a little bit more distracted than usual. I swallowed thickly and nodded because I truly did understand. Daddy slid down into the nearest dining chair and spread his legs comfortably. He shifted in his seat to get comfortable and then rested his hands on his knees.
"Come here, boy."
I did as I was told, slowly moving forward until I was standing in front of where Daddy sat. He immediately grabbed the back of the waistband of my pants and yanked me to the side so I was standing by his right knee. I thought I heard his breathing hitch a bit, but I could've been imagining it.
"Bend over." He instructed while manhandling me into position. He roughly forced me to bend over his knee so that my chest was pressing hard into one thigh, my crotch pressing firmly into another. In this position, my ass was raised into the air and his knee was pressing into my penis which hurt a little. Daddy had never forced me into this position and it was starting to scare me. I couldn't get up even if I wanted to though. His strong arm secured itself over the back of my shoulders and held me down as I subconsciously wiggled and struggled against his efforts.
"Still." He commanded gruffly through gritted teeth, taking a handful of my hair and yanking it back to shock me into stillness. I grunted from the pain, squeezing my eyes shut and letting him position me as he wanted. Daddy shifted a bit so that my ass was raised more, my body bent helplessly over his lap. "Good boy." He murmured. My heart did a dance when I heard those words. I lived for those words. It helped relax me. This was my Daddy. I trusted him more than anyone, even if I was scared of him more than anyone.
I wasn't expecting to feel Daddy's hands grip the back of my waistband and yank it down over my butt. He left my underwear over my bare ass thankfully, because I was already a bit embarrassed. Daddy didn't seem to notice. His breath was heaving in his chest like he was all worked up. My body jolted every time he roughly yanked my pants away from my waist. My butt felt a little colder now that there was only a thin layer of tighty-whities separating it from the air.
And then, without warning...
SMACK.
"Uhnnngh." I gasped, not expecting the sudden slap to my ass. As far as I could remember, Daddy had never spanked me before. Maybe when I was little, but nothing that I could remember. I gritted my teeth against the sting on my skin and whimpered in protest.
"You stay still." He commanded harshly, smacking my ass again.
"Unngh." I grunted, feeling my whole body convulse with each hit. The clear sound of him smacking my ass was all I could hear other than my own quiet whimpers. My arms hung helplessly to the floor, my fists clenching every time his hand connected with my ass.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.