Introduction:
The beginning of a coursework in training a bratty daughter , “How about you give me a little show and take these off for me?” Daddy gestured at the torn clothes that still attempted to cover my teen body. “I wanna see what I got myself here, if you’re worth the trouble of re-educating. Maybe in the end no man would even want you,” he taunted.
Tight-lipped, not wanting to sass him for the “worth the trouble” comment and then land myself into an even bigger mess, I simply shook my head.
I didn’t feel confident in my body at all.
I wasn’t one of those girls who could pass as a porno model, with thousands of Instagram followers and guys lining up to kiss my ass, literally and figuratively. My breasts were on the smaller side and I was naturally thin – so much so, to the point my hip bones protruded and I looked a little elvish.
But I was healthy, despite being so petite.
Desirable, or at least fuckable, well, that was a different thing. I was still a virgin, after all. No guys had ever come knocking on mom’s door to invite me to anything, ever.
“Obedient daughters don’ t say “no”,” he growled.
Daddy crossed the space between us in two short seconds, pulled on my shirt, tearing it straight up the middle, like it was made from spider silk – flimsy and delicate, same as me.
My clothes were so torn now, I stood no chance of putting them back on after this was over. I prayed daddy would give me something, anything at all, to wear, after this perverse inspection of his.
I wrapped my arms over my bare chest, but daddy tugged again, and suddenly there were no more barriers between us.
“Hmmm, no bra,” he murmured, then condemned me once more, “such a slut.”
My skin was breaking into goosebumps at his fiery touch. He was looking intently at me, as if he was appraising a piece of art, all the while he was running his knuckles over my breasts, humming appreciatively. He stopped to cup and weigh one of my breasts, kneading it, squeezing it, and it was hard to remain unaffected by his handling of me. I let out a small moan and daddy backed away as if I’d cursed him.
“You can take the rest off,” he said, his voice sounding a little weird.
“The rest?”
“Yes, I wanna see your ass and cunt too, now get to it.”
I was hesitating.
“I’m a little tired of your shit, you know; I could get nasty. I could drag your ass out there and let them all have you stripped down and inspected for me. There are currently over fifty males in my army camp and none of them would refuse a free pass inspection of a new female.”
Resentful, I looked down at the floor and stood my ground. I refused to subject myself to any more physical inspections. I refused to appear willing. I was not a slut. I had not given anyone any shit.
And the worst of it, I was not… beautiful.
I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, I didn’t want the others to see me naked. On the other, I couldn’t let daddy check me either, and risk him finding me flawed or unappealing. Screw all the feminist ideals, there wasn’t a woman on this earth who didn’t want to hear that she was beautiful and desirable.
Daddy took a deep breath.
“Fuck this.”
He seized me by the back of my neck as if gripping the scruff of a disobedient pet and threw me on my back across a wooden work bench. Several items clunked and clattered before falling onto the floor, meeting their untimely end.
I let out an involuntary scream of panic.
There was no more talking myself out of things, no more fighting. He was going to have his way with me, one way or another.
“Fucking show me that cunt, or I swear I will give you to Rick!” Daddy yelled.
“Please, don’t!”
“Strip,” he said, a little calmer.
He lit a cigarette, watching me squirm before his imposing figure. He was apparently satisfied with the amount of fear he had just instilled in me. He looked so menacing, so alpha, in this moment, I barely even dared to breathe. Unbidden, a memory of him disciplining me as a kid surfaced. He used to spank me so hard, I couldn’t sit for a week straight. Now I feared he would break me into pieces like plywood over his knee, so I willed my hands to stop trembling and I pulled down my pants, socks and panties. I let the items pile down on the floor and I used my hands to cover my tits and pussy.
“I said show me,” he breathed.
I closed my eyes and I climbed on top of the bench, bringing my feet to rest upon its rounded edge. Daddy now had a clear view of me, all naked, all vulnerable, and at his mercy.
He came closer and leaned over my naked body, blowing the smoke in my face, his teeth clenched in a triumphant grin.
“You’re so lovely, all spread for me like that, little slut,” he murmured, and with a quick jab of his hand, he extinguished the smoldering butt against the table, right next to my palm. It was close enough that I could feel its heat fading.
It was this intentional miss, the smell of burning wood, the proximity to danger, that fueled the realization that if I did want the easy way out, I had to submit, to obey, after all.
I didn’t want to be hurt, and so I begged, appealing to our familial bond.
“Please, daddy, don’t hurt me, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, really!”
“Oh, I know you will, darlin’,” he said, flicking the dead cigarette away onto the floor. “Try causing mischief when you’re all spread out like that, naked and with all your holes on display for me to pick from, see what happens.”
I let out a mewl.
Instead of being even more frightened by his words, I found I actually only disliked being physically hurt. But being made to strip and expose myself was starting to become somewhat… hot. More so because daddy seemed to drink in the sight of me, as if he liked what he was seeing.
And daddy, well, he was no Rick. He did not need to beat me into submission, all he had needed to do was be himself, his imposing, self-assured self, whose mere presence commanded attention and obedience.
It was relatively easy to listen to him, despite a few hiccups here and there, like my insecurities.
“Are you a virgin? Was that the problem, why you didn’t want to show me your pussy? Has no one else seen this little cute fuckhole of yours, so perfectly tiny, just waiting for someone’s cock to wreck it? You’re so small, you’re going to cry no matter how gentle your owner takes you,” he purred, his voice silky, wicked.
He had extended a hand towards my privates and he was playing with my flesh there, making me feel a specific kind of good that was a step above what I currently felt I should be letting my daddy do to me.
And the things he was saying were making my entire body flush with shame.
“Poor innocent little slut,” he mocked, and pinched my clit.
***
Hit me up on Smashwords, where I go by Hazel Grace if you want even more stories about daddies and their daughters.
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