Hey all, sorry this ones short. I've had this one a while for my own selfish enjoyment. It's a long running fantasy of mine, one that never disappoints me. Wasn't going to share, but finally decided to in the hope that it brings someone else some joy.
TEACHING ME A LESSON.
"You're not going out like that," my dad said, looking up from the table.
"Like what?" I replied innocently. Bending down and grabbing a bowl from the dishwasher. I imagined the view he got and it fuelled my arousal further. The black pleated short skirt riding up and showing my pert bottom and white pants.
It was short, and to push my dads buttons further I had added a pair of thigh high white socks. It was borderline slutty, but it felt great on my small slender figure. I knew it would piss him off. I loved him dearly, but he was very overprotective.
He didn't answer. I stood and faced him. I brushed my long straight dark hair out of my face before crossing my arms. "Like what?" I repeated, glaring at him. I wanted to see how far I could push him. My bitch mode was made worse by my horniness.
"That skirt is way too short," he said. His eyes looked down at my legs and I couldn't help but like the feeling. I knew how wrong it was to get so worked up by your dad's looks, but as I got older the more I caught him looking.
He ran his hand over his stubble. He hadn't shaved yet and it made him look hotter, more rugged.
"So!" I spat. "It's my fucking life." His face changed from annoyance to anger, and I swallowed hard, knowing I had gone too far. I lowered my voice slightly. "I'm eighteen now and can do what I like.
"I've told you not to swear," he said, anger tainting his deep sultry tones. "Do it again and there will be consequences. I'm trying to protect you, I don't want anyone thinking my daughters a........." He stopped short of his next word.
"What?" I asked calmly, trying to control my own anger. He kept his mouth shut, but I knew full well what he meant. "A slut?" I offered.
He flinched. "I didn't say that," he said, quietly.
"No but you meant it," I said. "I'm not a kid anymore." I snapped a hair band off my wrist and put my hair into a ponytail. I noticed my dad's eyes in my slender neck. Even when arguing some of his looks made me leak slightly.
"Then stop acting like a spoilt brat," he said. "I'm only asking you to wear something decent. It looks like you're off to hang around street corners."
I gasped, my voice, raising. "So I'm a slut, a brat, and a fucking whore," I said, nearly shouting. I felt shame course through me. Not because of what I was wearing, but because of the effect it was having on me. I had worn it for a reaction, one that I was getting and pushing further. I couldn't stop myself, desperate to see what he would do. Hoping for him to teach me a lesson.
"I told you not to swear," he said, his voice still eerily calm
"Fuck you," I spat. "I'm old enough now to do what I want. I'm going to school." I went to charge past him. I gasped as he grabbed my arm as he stood. Moving me easily. He was tall and muscular, over 6 feet to my 5'3", handling my small body like a toy.
"Not like that," he said. He gripped the back of my neck and forced me down over the table. "If you're going to act like a child, I'll treat you like one."
I felt the heat rise on my body, I was scared, but something else dominated my senses. The heat more prominent in one place. The cold air washed over my bum cheeks. I was bent over, my dad pressing me down into the table. My skirt had ridden up. I felt the slap on my bum and yelped, glad it took me by surprise.
"I told you not to swear," he said. He gave me another smack. It wasn't hard and it sent a feeling through me that was borderline ecstasy.
"Let me go," I said, squirming. I didn't want to go anywhere though.
He slapped me again and I actually groaned, my legs shook in excitement. I felt dampness spread between my legs. My pleasure was way too obvious.
There was a prolonged silence. I guessed my dad was trying to process what was going on. His daughter taking pleasure from her punishment.
"You really are a slut," he said. I gasped again and tried to wrestle free. He pinned me harder and slapped me again. His hand stayed there longer. It then slid up over my bum, raising my skirt over my narrow hips. "You're not supposed to enjoy it."
"I'm not," I said, weakly.
"Then why are you so wet," he said, his fingers running down between my cheeks, his fingers brushing over my bum hole causing another moan to escape me. But not as loud as the one that escaped me next.
I had dreamed and fantasised of this moment so many times. Lying in bed, desperate for release, as I thought about his hand between my legs, feeling how much I wanted him.
His fingers touched me and my legs went weak, shaking, the table taking the weight of my body. I gripped the edge of the table.
