I stood in front of my Dad, head hanging in shame. In my senior year of high school, just about to graduate, I still lived at home and probably would all through college and until I got a good job. And during all that time, Daddy would control me. Today, I was in serious trouble.
"Your teachers called me," he told me. "They said you called another girl a retarded bitch?" I cringed.
"She said that children in single parent households grow up to be common criminals." I shuffled my feet. "So I called her a retarded bitch."
Daddy scowled at me. "You could have just told her that she was wrong and pointed out why." He folded his arms across his chest.
I scowled at him. "She says retarded shit every day! I'm tired of correcting her and wanted her to shut up!"
"Did you just raise your voice at me, little girl?" I froze.
"N-no..." my voice trailed off. Daddy worked construction because it made him happy, but he was so smart, he could have been anything. As it was, working construction made him strong. He was already a big man, standing 6'5 and towering over everyone like a giant, but hard work and the weight gym in the basement made his tall, lean form bulge with heavy muscles that were thick with honest, hard earned strength rather then the weaker, high definition body builders had. The only reason he wasn't big bellied like a lot of strong men was because he ran every day and had his meals with just as much fruits and veggies as meat and protein. Dad was just as likely to eat a fruit salad as he was to eat a 10-ounce steak. Unfortunately, in addition to all this power, he came with a criminally short fuse.
His voice was dangerously quiet. "I could have sworn you just raised your voice at me." I shook my head vehemently and started backing up, fast. His hand was almost instantly wrapped around my arm and dragging me back. "No, you raised your voice at me. And you know what happens when you raise your voice at me."
I burst into tears, scared. "Daddy, please, I didn't mean it!" With one hand, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it off. "Please, Daddy, I'll do anything! Just don't hurt me!" He paused and I felt a glimmer of hope. "Daddy, please, I don't wanna get belted. I'll do anything! Just don't belt me!"
He stared at me. Then his cold blue eyes flicked down to my chest as they did multiple times a day. Only, this time, they stayed there.
"Fine," he said. "I won't belt you. Instead, whenever you get in trouble, you will stand in front of me and I will question you. During this time, you are not to move an inch or complain or you'll get spanked. And just because you get spanked, it doesn't mean the punishment stops, got it?" I nodded my head. "When I ask you a question, you stand still and answer me without complaint. If your doing a chore, keep working, but answer me without complaint. Clear?" I nodded again. Anything to get out of a belting. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.
Daddy led me to the basement. I stayed next to him until he sat on the bench press and pointed to the ground in front of him.
"How was your day?" he asked me.
"It was quiet," I answered. "I had math first block and we took a quiz." I jumped when Daddy placed both hands firmly over my breasts. "Daddy!" I jerked a step back. Almost instantly, I was over his lap as he slammed an open palm cross my ass cheeks, hard enough to make me shout.
"I said don't move," Daddy snapped at me as he roughly yanked me back onto my feet. "After your test, then what?"
Tears slid down my cheeks as I continued talking about my day. I flinched when his hands went back over my breasts, but didn't move. He started gently massaging my c-cup mounds, lifting and pressing them together, the force he was using making me rock back and forth. To my shame, I felt my body begin to heat up with a liquid warmth. When I started talking about second period, he pulled my shirt off of me. His heavy hands and thick fingers were rough on me as he went back to squeezing my breasts. Reaching around, he undid the clasp of my bra and pulled it off of me.