Chapter 2

“Do you remember Rick?” my daughter asked as she began her explanation.

I vaguely remembered her boyfriend from six months ago. I may have spoken four words to the guy in the time he dated my daughter. He drove a Dodge Charger and had a lot of swagger and confidence that came off as arrogance to me. It rubbed me the wrong way, and yes, I was a little envious he could afford such a bad-ass car.

“Rick didn’t put up with any shit from me. Any time I misbehaved or acted selfishly he punished me,” she explained how things were with her boyfriend.

I immediately assumed that Rick had abused my daughter. A fit of primal anger began to well up deep inside me. The kind that all father’s have when they hear someone has hurt their daughter.

“No wonder you stopped dating him. I knew he was an asshole,” I gritted my teeth and grabbed the sides of her bed and squeezed to vent my rage. My mind was already working on some way I could pay him back for whatever he did to my daughter – legally or illegally. I would find that boy and kick his ass if I couldn’t press charges.

“He dumped ME,” she chuckled sadly. “I was too much maintenance for him. I got too needy,” she said while facing the wall.

“That doesn’t give him the right to PUNISH you,” I offered angrily.

She began to cry. Her butt shook and jiggled as she sobbed.

“Please don’t cry. I wish I had known this was going on. I never liked him,” I offered.

“I am not crying,” she stopped herself and let out a soft little laugh. “I REALLY thought today that you had figured me out. I thought you might have talked to Rick and that was how you knew, or you just figured it out. I assumed the reason that you sent me to wash your car was ... forget it. God, I am such a dipshit.”

“Honey, I am trying to help you. Tell me what Rick did to you? Let’s start there,” I asked. It would be hard for me to hear whatever horror he visited upon my daughter, but I could tell she needed to talk about it.

“He gave me the best six months of my sorry little existence and helped me discover what I liked. At least I thought so, and then I wanted too much, and it freaked him the fuck out.”

That was NOT the answer that I expected, but today was a day full of the unexpected. Heather wasn’t giving me enough detail to really get an understanding of what happened.

“What do you like?” I was trying to understand what my daughter was telling me. It sounded like she enjoyed being degraded and punished, but I assumed that I didn’t understand.

“I am not even sure that I do,’ she admitted doubtfully. She paused as if perhaps to gather the courage to say it, or simply to think of how to verbalize it. “I like being punished.”

I’d never heard of anyone that liked to be punished. It made as much sense to me as saying that you liked hitting your thumb with a hammer or that you liked sniffing hot garbage down by the brewery out behind the Elephant exhibit at the zoo. However, she had presented it so emphatically and so simply that I accepted that she liked it.

“That’s why you are standing in the corner?”

“No,” she put her hands down by her sides and turned around to face me. She was naked and I still wasn’t prepared to see her huge tits and hairless pussy as she stood before me. “Punishing myself feels stupid. It doesn’t work,” she pulled her panties and shorts up and began to put her shirt back on.

“What are you trying to accomplish?”

“It’s embarrassing to tell anyone this,” she admitted. “I can’t really explain it. I get off on being punished. It can be terrifying and painful and then after it is all over it feels like a weight was lifted.”

“The Catholics have a word for that,” I joked. “It’s called Catholicism.”

I explained that they do penance for their sins and after a certain amount of acts of contrition they feel forgiven. We weren’t religious, but I was raised Catholic and knew first hand how much some of that was deeply ingrained into people’s psyches.

“Yeah, I know about that. I don’t want to be forgiven though,” she admitted.

“What did you do wrong?”

“Nothing, everything, anything,” she shrugged. “I can’t explain it, Daddy. When I dated Rick he had rules that I had to follow – so many rules. At first, I tested and pushed his buttons and broke the rules just to see what would happen.”

Of course, she did. That sounded exactly like what Heather would do when faced with rules and order.

“He punished me all the time. It wasn’t just spankings either. He would make me admit what I did wrong and show him that I was sorry. He would make even the simplest thing like eating feel like a privilege. I thought it was like a game and I played to win. When I became defiant and grew used to it then I pushed his buttons some more.”

Yes, naturally, she would bristle over this guy’s sense of entitlement and authority. I was actually on her side. What right did this asshole have to enforce rules on my daughter? A relationship is 50/50.

“Eventually, he started humiliating me in public. I didn’t just wear that bikini to Hooters. I wore it out in public and he made me volunteer to pick up trash on the side of the highway, or go jogging around retirement communities to give the old men there a thrill.”

“You thought I wanted to embarrass you like that?” I was disappointed that my daughter would think I could be so cruel and heartless.

“I hoped that’s what you were doing. I got so turned on that I started punishing myself in my room. When you barged in on me, I thought you definitely KNEW that I was acting like a horny little slut and were going to punish me harder.”

I had no clue.

“Rick used to tell me that only a wicked little slut gets off on being humiliated and punished, and I would be punished when I got caught masturbating. He’d make me stand in front of him and his friends and fist myself for hours when he caught me, while admitting I couldn’t control myself.”

His friends knew about this too? Jesus Christ. Now I wanted to get even with the whole bunch of misogynistic pigs. I would have loaded up full Rambo style because in my mind this was all unconscionable.

“Then he started doing the worst punishment of all,” Heather dried the mascara running down her eyes and plopped down beside me on the bed. “He started ignoring me and not punishing me for misbehavior. I assumed you were doing that when you walked out of here. I thought somehow you KNEW how to make me go crazy by ignoring me. I wasn’t going to make it that easy for you to ignore me. I am sorry I ruined your Fantasy Football. Can that be undone?”

“No,” I laughed it off. “I was probably not going to win this season anyway. The Jaguars though? You traded away Gronkowski for some real pieces of shit. You know that?”

“He’s probably not coming back to Tampa this year,” she shrugged.

“I am still hosed,” I chuckled at how absurd it was that I even gave a shit about fantasy football.

“I wasn’t prepared for you to spank me like that. You are terrible,” she chuckled.

“I was trying not to hurt you,” I explained.

“You were TRYING not to let me feel your boner pushing up against my tummy,” she corrected. That was true as well. “I am not a little girl anymore, Daddy. You can bend me, but you can’t break me. It was all I could do not to giggle and tell you to start over. You started slapping my ass right when you slowed down and cupped your hand but by then your hand probably hurt. That’s why Rick used a paddle.”

Jesus Christ – should I be hearing this? It was freaking me out to hear my daughter’s confessions. I found myself trying to suppress the most awkward boner.

“You know my big, dark secret now. I was hoping to find something on scandalous on your computer, but you but you only like vanilla pictures. There was nothing really that bad on your computer. Can this remain between you and me?”Was my daughter trying to blackmail me? Why would she snoop on my computer? Like most men, I checked porn but I didn’t have any particularly filthy stuff.

“You got it,” I promised that I’d keep this between us. Who would I tell? I doubted my wife would understand, and there was a LOT about this story I wouldn’t want to share with her.

“Do you mind punishing me?” she asked with a very vulnerable tone – as if she really wasn’t sure she should be asking.

“For what?”

“I’d really rather not do things wrong intentionally to get in trouble. That’s the whole point. You could make up a reason and we could roll with it,” she offered. “I ran into this problem with Rick. He’d punish me until I behaved, and then I wouldn’t do anything wrong. I’d crave punishment, and so I’d have to misbehave to get it.”

“How often are we talking about?”

This was a problematic conversation. I was not prepared to have. I had no interest in punishing my daughter – and certainly not like this. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering if Heather was trying to set me up so that she could blackmail me. None of this made sense to me and yet I was intrigued enough to ask her what she really wanted. Who WANTS to be humiliated? I was having trouble getting my head around it.

“Like more frequently? Maybe all the time? A few times a day?” Heather seemed to be negotiating with me to do this to her.

I couldn’t believe my daughter was ASKING to be punished.

“You are talking about being spanked?”

“That’s a good start, but it doesn’t just have to be on the ass. I’ve got a big butt and a lot of padding. You can be more creative. I promise I won’t have any hard feelings about it – we can figure out whatever makes you comfortable.”

I wasn’t sure what kind of punishments she was talking about, but I assumed they were more sexual in nature.

“I do not like to goad you and get you angry. You don’t respond well to that. With Rick, all I had to do was start teasing him and he would become a little sadist.”

“I am not a sadist,” I explained very emphatically.

“I know and that’s why it’s hard for me ask this of you, Daddy. I trust you though, a lot more than I would some random on the Internet.”

“Random on the Internet?”

“Yeah, some temporary tampon I can use for a one-time sesh and then discard?” she shrugged. I had no idea what she meant. “I can pick some dude up on a dating app. Tell him I want to have the snot beaten out of me and then get my fix. It’s not perfect, but it’s a lot better than punishing myself,” she said.

“I can’t beat the SNOT out of you,” I objected.

“I don’t mean with your fists, unless you are into that kind of thing,” she half-joked. “You could tie me up tightly and leave me strung up in my closet for a few hours with a carrot up my ass, or attach clothes pins to my nipples and tongue and make me dance on a dildo like a little tramp.”

“I can’t do that,” I recoiled in horror as I realized my daughter was into some EXTREMELY kinky shit.

“Okay, that’s probably too much. I can respect that,” she said. “You could do more mundane punishments, but downstairs? Like make me finish washing all of the cars in the bikini, but then you could say you caught me flashing the neighbor so you expect me to stand in the corner topless since I obviously can’t control myself?”

“In front of the others?”

“They CANNOT know I get off on being humiliated. That takes all of the fun out of it for me,” she said.

“Fun? It would shock your mother and give her a heart attack,” I said.

“She let me keep washing her car for 15 minutes before she came and got you. I think Mom protests but she isn’t going to stop it as long as you don’t go too over board. As for my brothers, well they are both pervs. They are going to laugh and sneer and that’s cool. Amanda is probably the one who will make me feel an inch tall and tease me the most.”

“Why would you want that? How is that fun?”

“It’s not fun, like having sex fun,” she tried to explain. “It’s not fun like going to a carnival fun. It’s fun, like maybe watching a scary movie, but instead of watching it, you are in it. Does that make sense?”

“No,” I said.

“It’s like all this adrenalin, and sort of...” she struggled with the words. “It’s like I am such a cunt that I can’t stand myself sometimes. I didn’t earn a lot of tips because I don’t pay attention at work, and people get their food cold. I blew what I did make on stupid shit, and I knew I shouldn’t when I did it. I did it anyway because there were no consequences. Yes, that’s the right word. I want consequences, but instead of like a specific consequence for one thing, like all the time consequences?”

I didn’t understand at all.

“With Rick, he used to punish me for specific things I did, but eventually it just seemed like all the time for my attitude and behavior in general. The shorter the leash he kept me on the happier I was. That’s what I mean by fun.”

My daughter was better behaved while she dated Rick, but a lot of that could be contributed to the fact that she was seldom ever home to get on anyone’s nerves. I really didn’t see the point of any of this.

“You are saying that every night at dinner I should make you stand in the corner topless while the rest of the family eats?”

“Not every night, you could change it up. You could make me stand with books on my head and balance them for an hour, or even put soap in my mouth,” She scrunched her nose in disgust as if she didn’t want to do it but also like she was looking forward to it.

“Then they will think I’ve lost my marbles and I am being horrible to you!”

I almost suspected that this was some elaborate scheme of my daughter. I wasn’t sure what her angle was but I assumed that perhaps she was willing to humiliate herself only to paint me as a bad guy. Wa she doing this so that she could tell the others in the family that I was being unfair? Perverted? I just wasn’t sure what the payoff to that was.

“You can tell them you had enough of my behavior over the years and that I am being punished. I’ll protest a little just to make it believable. Then I could say something like ‘Fine. You may as well punish me like this every night for a month. It’s not going to bother me!”

I nodded but found that scenario hard to believe.

“Mom will protest, and then I could insist that I want to teach you both a lesson and that you aren’t going to break me even if you make me stand during every meal.”

“That’s just so over the top, Heather.”

I wasn’t prepared to commit to anything that crazy.

“Fine, but can you spank the shit out of me? I have a paddle,” she showed me that she had a wooden one in her closet. It was made of thick stained wood and about a foot long with a padded grip. “Maybe do twenty, over the panties or on the ass directly and make me count? I liked the questions that you asked me earlier when you spanked me. They made me think!.”

“The others might hear,” I warned her that we had to be quiet.

“Do you want to take me out to talk about my attitude and we go to the park or a bathroom some place? That would be cool.”

“I just can’t do this, Heather.”

“It took a lot for me to tell you what a weirdo I am. I promise I won’t get hard feelings no matter how hard you push me. I do not know why I like being punished, but I do. Okay? I trust you more than some perverted rando, but I can probably find one on the Internet pretty quickly. Can we try?”

I couldn’t go through with what she wanted.

It really didn’t take her long to find a “rando”. A guy about my age pulled up in a white van. It had the logo to an electrician’s business on the side. I took a picture of the van and him from my window when I saw him in my driveway. I instantly knew why he was here.