Rebecca is out late studying...

The Discipline of a Devoted Daughter

The front door clicked shut with a quiet finality, the sound barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the hallway clock. Rebecca stood frozen in the entryway, her fingers still curled around the strap of her backpack, her chest rising and falling with the unsteady rhythm of someone who knew they were in trouble. The house was dark, save for the dim glow of the television in the living room—he was still awake.

Stefano didn’t turn to look at her.

He didn’t need to.

The weight of his disapproval was a physical thing, thick and suffocating, pressing down on her shoulders like a leaden cloak.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

His deep baritone was low, measured—dangerous.

Rebecca swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "I lost track of time at Josie’s," she murmured, the redhead vixen's soft contralto barely above a whisper. "We were studying—"

"Studying."

The word was a scoff, dripping with disbelief.

Finally, Stefano turned his head, his dark eyes glinting in the flickering blue light of the TV. "While your team was getting slaughtered six to one?"

Rebecca winced. She had forgotten about the match.

"Yeah, I know, Dad," she sighed, rolling her eyes with the practiced ease of a teenager who thought she could deflect with sarcasm. "I’m your lucky charm and all, but I’m sure Torino’s football team could manage without me if they’re as great as you claim."

The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Stefano moved fast.

One second, he was lounging on the couch, the next, he was standing in front of her, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole. Rebecca’s breath hitched as his hand shot out, gripping her chin with bruising ****, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Is that sarcasm I hear, young lady?" His voice was a velvet growl, the kind that made her stomach tighten in a way she didn’t want to examine too closely. "I don’t care if you take some liberties with your vocabulary around me. However, I won’t allow any disrespect against the great Torino football team to go unpunished. You should know well to watch your mouth after we got defeated six to one."

Rebecca’s pulse spiked.

"Oh my God, I didn’t know—"

"W-wait?! What are you—? Oooww!"

The slap came without warning, his palm cracking against the curve of her ass with enough **** to send a jolt of white-hot pleasure-pain shooting up her spine. Rebecca gasped, her body arching instinctively, her hands flying back to cover the stinging flesh—but Stefano didn’t give her the chance.

In one fluid motion, he dragged her across his lap, her face pressed against his groin, her nose brushing against the sweat-damp fabric of his shorts. The scent hit her like a freight train—musky, primal, undeniably male.

Incubus pheromones.

Rebecca’s breath left her in a shuddering exhale, her lips parting as she inhaled, her mind going hazy with the intoxicating aroma.

"D-Dad—" she whimpered, her voice already slurring, her body going pliant against his.

Stefano smirked, his free hand sliding up the back of her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass. "Making yourself comfortable, sweetheart?" he purred, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over the reddening mark he’d left.

Rebecca squirmed, her hips rocking unconsciously against his thigh, her breath coming in short, frantic pants.

"N-No, I—"

SLAP.

Another sharp crack echoed through the room, this one landing just below the first, the pain melting into a deep, throbbing heat that pooled between her thighs.

Rebecca moaned.

The sound surprised even her, her cheeks flushing crimson as Stefano chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening possessively around her hip.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Let Daddy hear you."

His hand came down again, this time higher, his palm smacking against the sensitive curve where her ass met her thigh. Rebecca jerked, her back arching, her fingers clawing at his jeans as another broken whimper tore from her throat.

"F-Fuck—!"

Stefano’s grip on her hip tightened, his other hand sliding up her back to fist in her hair, yanking her head back until her lips were inches from his.

"Language, Rebecca," he chided, his breath hot against her mouth. "But since you’re already being punished…"

His hand descended again, this time in rapid succession—one, two, three sharp smacks—each one landing with precision, each one drawing another breathy moan from her swollen lips.

Rebecca was drowning.

The pain was there, yes, but it was secondary, eclipsed by the overwhelming need coiling in her belly, the wet heat gathering between her thighs, the way her body ached for his touch.

Stefano knew.

Of course he knew.

His free hand slid around to her front, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her panties, his touch feather-light against her damp curls.

"D-Daddy—!" Rebecca gasped, her hips jerking forward, her body begging for more.

Stefano tsked, his fingers retreating just as quickly as they’d come. "Ah-ah," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "Punishment first."

And then his hand was coming down again, this time in a relentless rhythm, each smack landing with enough **** to make her cry out, each one sending another wave of pleasure-pain crashing through her.

Rebecca’s vision blurred, her body trembling, her mind unraveling under the dual **** of his touch and his scent.

She was his.

And he was just getting started.

The Rules of the House – A Father’s Decree

When the spanking finally stopped, Rebecca was a panting, trembling mess, her body limp across his lap, her face buried in his thigh. Stefano stroked her hair, his fingers gentle now, almost loving.

"Now," he murmured, his voice a velvet command. "Let’s go over the rules again."

Rebecca whimpered, her fingers curling into his jeans.

"You won’t masturbate in this house."

"Y-Yes, Daddy," she breathed, the words automatic, ingrained.

"You won’t bring any boys home—though that much should be clear."

"Yes, Daddy."

A pause.

"What about Josie?"

Stefano’s fingers tightened in her hair, yanking her head back until her tear-filled eyes met his.

"Are you seriously asking that question?"

Rebecca’s breath hitched.

SLAP.

"F-Fuck!"

Stefano smirked. "I’ll add another rule since you like to be silly," he purred, his thumb brushing over her swollen bottom lip. "You can’t watch porn anymore."

Rebecca’s eyes widened. "B-But—!"

SLAP.

"No buts," Stefano growled, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If you need relief, you come to me. Understood?"

Rebecca’s lips parted, her breath coming in shallow pants, her body thrumming with submission.

"Y-Yes, Daddy," she whispered.

And just like that, the corruption was complete.