He came home late. Again. He'd had a client dinner where he'd bought one too many bottles of wine and he was still feeling a little buzzed when he walked through the front door. He cursed as he tripped over his daughter's bookbag which had been dropped to the floor just inside the foyer.
Emily had taken it hard when her mother had died just over a year before and as such Tripp had been trying to go easy on her. It was a hard time for them both. Having to navigate the grief of losing his wife was hard enough, but coupled with a rebellious teenaged daughter going through her own despair made it almost unbearable.
Tripp never knew what to say or how to talk to her. It didn't help that he'd taken to noticing the way the buttons on her white school blouse strained over her B-cup breasts and the long, toned legs that stuck out from under her plaid, knee length skirt. He hated the cliche of it. His daughter the schoolgirl. The fantasy. It made him feel dirty. But Emily looked so much like her mother that sometimes he couldn't help himself at all. Same reddish brown hair. Same green eyes. His quick temper though; Emily wasn't all Sara.
The month before Emily had celebrated her eighteenth birthday and, if possible, she'd been even more difficult to live with. Coming and going as she pleased. Staying out all night on school nights, even though he knew the end of the school year was upon them and all the kids were suffering from Senioritis. Always using the excuse, "Well, I'm an adult now. I can do what I want."
Sometimes Tripp really just wanted to turn her over his knee and spank her the way she rightfully deserved. Her attitude was nothing a good walloping couldn't fix. But Sara had never been a fan of that kind of punishment and, besides, Emily was eighteen after all.
He made his way upstairs, loosening his ties and thinking all he wanted to do was drop into bed. He saw Emily's door cracked open and decided to peek in on his daughter. She was breathing softly in her sleep, the moonlight white on her face. He smiled a little to himself. If only she was always this peaceful.
As he watched, she sighed and shifted, the covers falling away from her body. He blinked in surprise. She was naked. When had she started sleeping naked? He tried to tear his eyes away but the sight of her creamy breasts and small, blush colored nipples held him captive.
That's when he smelled it. The faintest wisp of cigarette smoke. He'd put up with a lot to this point, but she knew smoking was forbidden in the house. Rage and lust and wine clouded his head as he threw open the door, letting it bang loudly against the wall and flipped her bedroom light on.
Emily jerked awake, yanking her bedspread up to cover her naked breasts.
"What the fuck?" she snapped.
"Do not cuss at me Emily! Where are the cigarettes?" Tripp growled, pacing around the room. He grabbed her purse off her dresser and began rifling through it.
Emily started to jump up, but then remembered she was naked. "Dad stop it! That's my purse!" she screeched. "What are you doing?!"
Tripp ignored her as he pulled out a pack of Marlboros and held them up for her to see. "What have I told you about smoking?"
Emily smirked at him. "I'm an adult, remember? It's legal for me to buy cigarettes," she replied with a shrug. "Now, if you'll kindly get out of my room, I'd like to get back to sleep."
White hot rage washed over him. Anger that he hadn't felt in a long time bubbled up. Her constant insolence, the way she never took him seriously, even the fucking bookbag dropped so carelessly on the floor, sent him over an edge he hadn't known he'd been standing on.
In one stride he'd crossed the room to his daughter's bed. She let out a surprised gasp as he grabbed her elbow and yanked her to her feet, her blankets falling away to reveal her naked body. Her pussy was shaved, he noted and felt the first stirrings of an erection in his suit pants.
He shook her hard by her arms. "I have had it with your attitude Emily! As long as you are living in this house you will obey me! Do you understand?" he yelled, his face inches from hers.
Emily's wide, green eyes stared back at him in shock and a little bit of fear. "Yes," she gasped.
"Yes what?" he growled.
Emily swallowed, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes sir," she whispered.
Her dad never lost his temper on her like this. His grip was like iron on her arms and she could smell the wine on his breath. His grey eyes were hard as freshly forged steel. She felt small and vulnerable in her nakedness.
Roughly he spun her around. She struggled against his grasp as he took a seat on the edge of her bed and turned her over his knees. "Daddy! What do you think you're doing?!" she cried. "Stop it! No!"
But Tripp ignored her cries. He held her firmly by the back of her neck, forcing her head down and her ass up as his other hand spanked her hard. He watched with satisfaction as a red handprint bloomed on her ivory ass. Emily let out a sharp yelp of surprise and pain.
"Count," he ordered, spanking her again.
But Emily continued to struggle on his lap. "Daddy stop it! You can't do this to me! I'm not a child!" she yelled.
"Really?" Tripp asked mildly, spanking her a third time, this time on the other cheek. "You sure have been acting like it. Leaving your shit everywhere. Talking back to me. Acting like you have no sense of responsibility at all! Your mother and I didn't raise to be like this." He hit her again. "Now count! Or it's going to be so much worse."
His hand came down again and this time Emily cried out, "One!"
Again. "Two!"
She was crying in earnest now. Her daddy hadn't spanked her since she was a little girl and never this hard. But he had alway made her count. Every blow stung her ass and her pride. She was helpless to overpower him. Her father was a large, strong man standing right at 6'2". He worked out a lot and kept his body in shape. Emily had often noticed women staring at her father. He was good looking, she knew. Thick, chocolate hair just beginning to gray at the temples. Sharp grey eyes. Large, workman's hands covered in calluses from years of working his way to the top.
She squirmed on his lap as spank number seven made contact with her ass. Was that an erection pressed against her stomach? She couldn't tell for sure but the thought sent shivers down her spine.
At ten he finally stopped. Both of them sat still, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. Tears stained the carpet below Emily's head.
Tripp stared at his daughter's now bright red ass in shock. What had he just done? He couldn't believe he'd lost control like that.
"Oh god, Emily. I'm so sorry," he whispered, rubbing his hand gently over her ass. She flinched and whimpered at his touch.
"Please don't hit me any more," she whimpered.
Tripp continued to rub her ass soothingly. "I won't baby girl. You'll be good from now on?"
Emily nodded weakly, exhausted from the beating.
Tripp's finger accidently brushed against her pussy as he rubbed her burning cheeks. Wet.
They both froze, startled at the contact.
Tripp felt something dark begin to stir in him again. "What's this?" he snarled, wedging his hand between her legs to feel her. She was soaked.
Emily whimpered and struggled against him. Shame burned her cheeks. What was happening right now? Was this a dream? She was turned on by her daddy spanking her!
"NO!" she cried out as she felt his fingers probing her folds.
"Don't tell me 'no' in my own house!" Tripp growled, wrapping a hand in her hair and giving it a yank.
He slid his middle finger through her dripping pussy lips and up to the hard little button of her clit. She struggled to get away as he rubbed it. "Stop! No!" she sobbed. "This isn't right."
"What isn't right is that you're a complete slut! Look at how wet you are from a spanking! I'm your father and you're soaking wet for me. Thats disgusting." Tripp retorted. He yanked her onto the bed by her hair, rolling her over on to her back.
Emily's face was red and streaked with tears. Her breasts swayed softly with every heavy breath. He yanked her hands above her head and held them firmly by the wrists. She struggled against him.
Tripp climbed onto the bed over top of her, wedging his knee between her legs to keep them apart. She noticed the bulge in his pants and the lust in his eyes and felt another surge of liquid to pussy. Tripp was right, it was disgusting. Her cunt shouldn't be quivering for her own father's touch.
"NO!" she repeated, throwing her head from side to side. "This is rape!" This is wrong. I shouldn't want this, Emily thought. She felt desperate, although she wasn't sure if she was desperate for the attack to end or desperate for it to continue.
Tripp gave her a dark and lazy smile. "Is it?" he asked as he slid a finger into her soaked and obviously willing hole. Emily couldn't help the moan that escaped her.
"Tell me, how many men have you fucked you dirty whore?" Tripp goaded, his finger pressing deeper.
Emily struggled weakly, but only succeeded in thrusting her hips up to meet his hand. "Only one Daddy, I swear!"
Tripp nodded, he'd guessed as much by how tight she still was. Her pussy contracted around his finger. He felt his cock throb. "One too many," he told her. Abruptly he pulled his finger out and slapped her pussy.
Emily cried out, flinching away from him. "Please, I'm begging you to stop! I won't have sex again!"
