This story contains father/daughter, lots of spanking, lots of dom/sub. Future chapters will have cuckquean themes.
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It was his moment of weakness. Harlock was a pastor, and a good man, or at least, he hoped to be. But his adopted daughter Carly had pushed him to the limit. He had tried grounding her, taking away her cellphone, everything. But now that she was eighteen she was even more emboldened. Marcy, his wife, had always counseled restraint. She had always said Carly would grow out of it, and it was just a phase, and the lord had a plan.
"You heard me." The blond brat he had adopted and then raised for eight years stuck out her tongue on the back porch and grinned, "Fuck you, and fuck your cunt of a wife too!" She stood up with a crop top and jean shorts that looked like panties, in fact, her panties were showing all around them. Her nose and navel were pierced, and her blue eyes glowed with a certain cold malevolence, like she had finally won. She wore her hat to the side and leaned back with her thumbs in her waistband. She had finally made him speechless. "I'm leaving for California, and you can't stop me!"
Harlock was a patient man. He had endured this for a decade, since she was ten years old and they accepted her from a terrible home. He had treated her with kindness. He had been there for her in hard times. He had practiced restraint
"What's wrong? Don't have your wifey here to hold you back and make you look tough? What are you going to do? Hit me?" She dared him.
"You will not speak about your mother like that." It was the final thin line he felt holding him back from violence. If she apologized right now, he would let her go.
"Oh, like what?" She faked confusion and rolled her eyes. She leaned forward enough to show her cleavage and spat at his feet, "You don't want me to call her a cunt again?"
He slapped her face with his left hand. Hard. She reeled back, stunned.
She was speechless. Her eyes were wide.
"Get your ass back to your room." He ordered. "Now." he pointed.
She held her face delicately, not sure what to do, "But Harlock-"
He slapped her again, this time with his right, stronger hand. She stumbled back and almost went to her knees.
She held both her cheeks, both going red. Her eyes were wet, "D-dad..." She sniffed, tears starting to seep from her eyes.
"You don't have to call us mom and dad." he had given up on that years ago. She only used those words if she wanted to manipulate them. "But so long as you live in this house, you will not use those words about my wife. Do you understand?"
"I'm not going to live in your house anymore-" she whimpered with all the strength had left her voice, it cracked as she tried to sound strong.
"Then leave." He crossed his arms.
"I need to pack-"
"No. Nothing in this home is yours. Leave now, or follow the rules of my house." he ordered. He stood tall with his arms crossed.
Carly was crying, but trying to keep her composure. Her lungs seized with emotion, like hiccups, "But, but dad-"
"To your room. Now." her face was a mix of anguish and anger. "Wait for me there. This is not over."
She held back from outright sobbing until she passed him with her head down, mumbling obscenities and hugging herself. But he could hear her moaning louder as she ran off to her room, sobbing.
He sighed. He had never hit her before. Marcy had never allowed it, and he never saw it as the right way to punish a child. But she was not a child anymore. At least, it was time for her to grow up. "Harlock?" he turned and saw Marcy at the doorway, "Carly looked very upset."
"Let me handle it honey." He asked. "Please?" he was so tired now. Tired of everything.
Marcy was concerned. She was a traditional housewife, and cared far too much about people who didn't care about her. It was an admirable trait. He wanted nothing more than to protect that kindness. Even if she used it on people who did not deserve it. "Did she get hurt? She was crying." She was short, with a pear shaped figure. And brown hair and eyes. He loved her dearly.
He hesitated, but admitted. "I slapped her."
Marcy looked down and away, as if she understood but had hoped for another answer. She nodded. "If she wants to leave." Marcy started. "We shouldn't stop her."
"If she wants to stay, she will learn the rules of this house." He responded and marched past his wife. Marcy did not respond. She just had an expression of stress. She hated conflict. If it were up to her, Carly would have used her in every way she could. Before he left her earshot he said to her, "I know you hate it, but would you come with me?"
"Do what you have to. I don't want to see it." She shook her head.
"I want you to stop me if I go too far-"
"I trust you Harlock." She smiled at him solemnly, "She is like this because of me, I think."
"Because of both of us." He admitted. "Thank you for trusting me."
"I'm going to get groceries." She announced. "I won't be back for a while. Maybe, in fact, you should call me back when it is over." He nodded. "Thank you." She took the keys and left the house.
He went to Carly's room, still in a rage. It was not a sudden flare that drops in time. It was the beginning of a years long, repressed anger seeping through the cracks of his disciplined psyche. When he entered her room she was startled. She was sitting on her bed reading her texts.
Her face had two red hand prints, one on either side. Her face was still wet, but she had calmed down a bit. She put her phone down and gave a smug smirk once she saw him, "So, what are you going to do now?" She giggled, "Well, I'm waiting!"
She was waiting for an apology. He had always sat down beside her after he yelled at her, or punished her. He had always tried to make amends. To see her side of things. He saw now that she had abused that. She had never learned her lesson.
"Carly." He walked to her. She watched him close the distance in a calm, and sure manner. She felt completely safe despite the strikes he gave her. "You are going to apologize."
She seemed surprised. "Huh? For what?"
"For the things you said." He explained slowly.
"Huh? About Marcy being a-" She stopped, "Ugh, yea, sorry I guess." She shrugged. "Is that what you want?"
"I want you to mean it."
