Date: Mon, 16 Jan 2012 22:11:20 -0500
From: jack reddy <jackbequicky@gmail.com>
Subject: Dad Humiliates Me

Disclaimer: This is a role play fantasy about father & son, sub/dom. All
characters are portrayed to be legal, consenting adults and this story in
no way condones or encourages incest or sex with minors. If you are not a
legal adult, please read no further.  If you are offended by themes of
incest, humiliation or water sports, this story is not for you. You have
been warned.



I was bad, that's all there was too it. I thought I was the shit, in every
way. Great body, football star, good grades; I had it all. But I was a
shit. I treated those not in my group like crap and everybody knew it. I
bullied the weaker kids, harassing them at every turn with my gang in
tow. I was the typical high school jock and I absolutely loved my life and
everything about it (or so I pretended).

Maybe it was because I had no women in my life, I figure, for the reason I
turned out being the way I was. My mom left and it was just me and my Dad,
living out in the woods in a trailer. Sure, we didn't live the lavish
lifestyle that some of my friends had. My Dad was a hard working man and
didn't make a lot. But my looks and my athletic abilities made up for my
economic inequity.  Dad and I lived like two rugged men and its perhaps no
surprise that masculinity was my key feature that both ruled and dominated
my life.

Whether it was bullying, to getting into trouble at school for random
pranks, it didn't matter. It was part of who I was, the über masculine guy
and everything I did was related to it in some way. I didn't really listen
to people or their concerns. All of that rubbish was weak, in my mind and
not masculine. I'd slept with a ton of girls at school and always talked
about it with my buds afterwards. Never once did I make a commitment to any
of them, because in my mind that was weak and un-masculine too.

My Dad wasn't that strict, but he did believe in punishment when I got in
trouble. He belted me on numerous occasions, and I could take it. I never
cried, never showed my feelings. He called it building my character and I
took it, like a man and felt that accepting and taking pain was part of my
persona, just like being tackled on the field.

But my overall behavior as a human being never improved and in fact, got
worse and worse. The bullying continued and increased, my womanizing too
and then I started drinking because it was the cool and macho thing to
do. How much can you drink? Became a challenge I couldn't turn down. I
started coming home drunk and naturally, I always drove my big beat-up
pickup.  Dad punished me as usual, but it didn't stop. I figured it just
went with the territory and finally, I started talking back to him and
calling him an old redneck during my drunken rants.

He'd let me sleep it off and then belted me. But it made no difference and
I think he started to realize I was in some serious trouble.

One night, his fears were realized and he got a call from the police. I was
in jail and he had to come and bail me out. I had gone off in town to a
local bar, got in a fight, beat up a guy and left him lying on the
ground. Then I'd driven off drunk and ran my truck into a tree.

The police came after reports of the fight and found me. I had a minor cut
and was passed out drunk but no worse for the wear. The other guy though,
had to go to the hospital for a broken jaw. He was going to press assault
charges against me.

So my Dad was not happy to see me. He bailed me out the next day, after I
was sober again.  I had the worst hang over. I was expecting the belt as
usual.

When we got through the door, my Dad sat me down and we had a talk about
things. He realized that I felt no remorse for what I'd done. I'd used the
normal excuse, that I was just being a guy and it just happened. "He was
just some faggot," I'd said to him, when he asked me about beating up the
guy in the hospital. "I just had a bit too much to drink, no biggie," I
said when he asked me about the drinking.

Dad tried to explain that beating up people and drinking too much were not
"guy things," just "stupid things," but I didn't listen to him.

"Come on," I said, "Let's get this over with," I said rudely, as I pulled
down my pants and underwear and took my position over "the table" to take
my licks, like a man. I wasn't afraid of the pain.

I heard the familiar sound of Dad's belt buckle behind me and I just waited
for the count to begin.  But what I felt was different. I felt my Dad
spreading my ass cheeks and then something fat and warm pressing in
between.

I got up to look back, then felt Dad's hand holding my neck down against
the table. "What the fuck are you..."  I said...

"Quiet!," my Dad yelled at me in a tone that meant business. I couldn't
move, I was pinned against the table and Dad was not weak in any way. He
was a big guy, strong and muscular from doing roofing.

"I'm tired of it boy; tired of you getting into trouble, tired of your big
mouth. You've gotten too big for your breeches and I'm gonna teach you a
lesson today that you're not gonna forget.



"You think you can push people around, beat people up and that's O.K.?"

"You think you can come home drunk every night, drive drunk and nearly get
yourself killed?"  "You think its ok to be stuck on yourself and think
you're God's gift to the fucking world?"  Dad's voice was shaking with
anger. He was mad like I'd never heard him before. Something in him had
snapped, I was sure of it.

"I'm ashamed of you boy, for the man you are becoming and I have failed to
be a good parent for long enough. It's time you learned a lesson in
humility and I am going to teach it to you the only way I know how."  His
words were a statement of fact.

"What are you gonna do to me?" I asked, scared and shaking for the first
time in a long time.

"I'm gonna to fuck you and you can take it like a man, or you can
leave. You're 18, so you can leave if you want and move out of my house."

He then took his hand off my neck, and let me up.

I got up in a huff, pulled up my pants. I looked to see my Dad's cock was
erect and hard behind me.

"I'm not gonna let you fuck me! That's ridiculous!!" I yelled, my face red
with anger at the thought.

"Then get the fuck out, this is my house," he yelled back at me.

I went back to my room, shaking mad and got some of my things and put them
in a bag. Then headed out. Dad was on the couch drinking a beer and turned
on the T.V. He didn't look at me as I walked out the trailer and slammed
the door.

It only took me a moment to realize that my truck was gone, probably
totaled from the tree. So I started walking and thinking. "What was I going
to do?" I thought to myself, as I walked down the lone country road. It was
a good 10 miles into town and then what?



I couldn't find my cell phone, probably somewhere in my truck, I thought
bitterly. I didn't have a job. Dad had been good about giving me an
allowance and with football practice I didn't really have time for
one. What was I going to do? After walking a mile, I just collapsed and for
the first time in memory, I cried. Cried at my situation, cried about what
I had done and what Dad has said about me not turning out to be a good
person and for beating up the guy in the bar. I felt shame for the first
time in a long time. Dad was right and I knew it. And I knew he was right
to punish me and humiliate me. I needed it. I reluctantly decided to go
back home, but I was scared.

But then I decided, how bad could it be? I'd fucked girls in the ass before
and they could do it. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Dad wouldn't tell
anyone, he couldn't, so I would just take it, take it like a man, and not
tell anyone about it. The more I thought about it, the more my masculine
identity protected itself be seeing it as an opportunity to endure, to take
my punishment.

It was with these thoughts that I finally got back to the trailer. It was
dark and the lights were on. I opened the door and Dad was sitting there,
shirtless and on his second beer. He looked at me when I walked it.

"Are you here to take your punishment?" He said, flatly, no looking at me.

I nodded, put my bag down and walked over to "the table" and took down my
pants and underwear.

A moment later, Dad got up and was behind me, and I heard his belt buckle
jingling. I heard him spit a couple of time then felt his thick cock in
between my ass cheeks. I felt him at the entrance of my hole. He pushed, I
yelled, then he pushed again and I yelled as he barely penetrated me. He
had both his massive, rough hands on my shoulders. I could see his
reflection on the oven door, as he concentrated on my ass and then pushed
again further. I yelled again which went unheeded. He was inside of me. I
could feel his heavy balls against my own.  I was breathing hard, my face
was red, it hurt so much more than I thought. I can't take it, I thought to
myself, I can't. But my thoughts instantly taunted me and called me "weak".

I gritted my teeth. I'm not gonna let him win or let pain win. I'm a man, I
thought. I can take it.

Dad left his cock all the way in and started making me answer his
questions:

"Who is the boss in the house?" he said firmly.

"You are," I said with heavy breaths, sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"Who?" he said again and pulled half out and pushed back in hard, racking
my body with pain.

"You are, Sir!" I said loudly, like talking to a drill sergeant.

"That's right son, and don't forget it," he said and pulled half out again
and in again, slamming against me. I yelled again, loudly.

He started moving out again and again, and grabbed my hair, and pulled my
head back, and spoke firmly in my ear "Are you gonna be good from now ?" he
said and pushed in hard.

I yelled out, "Yes Sir," through gritted teeth as his cock went all the way
in. Tears were in my eyes and starting to run down. I had no idea this was
going to hurt so much and my ass was burning. It felt as if I was being
split in two. I also had no idea my Dad's cock was so fucking huge!

Dad continued fucking me, degrading me while he fucked me...

"I'm fuckin you like a little bitch, aren't I son," He yelled...

"Yes Sir," I said, feeling humiliated as my predicament.

Dad slapped my ass hard, as he fucked me deep.

"You gonna beat up any more faggots," he roared...

"No Sir, No Sir," I shouted back, as he pulled my head back hard by the
hair.

"That's right boy," he continued, "Now you know all about being fucked," he
added, fucking me deeper and harder.

My knuckles were white and gripping the end of table as my Dad relentlessly
pounded my ass. The whole trailer seemed to be rocking back and forth.

A few moments, later Dad pulled me up and off the table and pushed me on
the floor, ass up, head down. He literally mounted me, and I yelled as he
plunged his cock into my raw hole. He was standing behind me, legs bent
slightly and was fucking me doggy style.

I could see his reflection in the windows as he pounded me, his thick,
hairy body, sweaty from the exertion, but he did not relent. He continued
fucking me and it started feeling, to my surprise, good.  I didn't want to
admit that to myself. I didn't know anything about the male prostate or how
good it could feel to get fucked, up until that moment.

I was sore, make no mistake, but the majority of the pain shifted, from his
cock in my ass, to him slapping my ass. My cock was getting erect from the
tingling feeling and my Dad's heavy balls slapping against me.

And then the moment came, my Dad yelled out, and pulled his cock out of my
sore hole and leaned down next to my face, turned my head sideways and shot
his load right on my face. I had to close my eyes and felt his warm goo
shooting all over me. It felt like it went on forever as his jets of warm
cum, covered my nose, mouth and face. Once it was over, he pushed his spend
shaft into my mouth, and yelled at me to clean it off.



I did as he said and tasted his cum for the first time in my life.

When he was done, he got up, sat back breathing hard, on the couch. His
muscled, hairy body glistening with sweat.

I kept laying on the floor. Not knowing what to think or do.

"Finish yourself off," he ordered.

I sat up, looked at him puzzled.

"Jerk off boy, you do as I say..."

I started jerking off and my cock was still hard. I felt embarrassed that I
had gotten hard from being fucked.

"Look at me," he said. I looked up, questioning,

"Look me in the eyes, as you jerk off,"

I did as he said. It was weird, staring into my Dad's eyes while jerking
off. I can't explain it. His expression was firm, but his eye's penetrated
deep. Instinctively I wanted to look away, it was too intimate to stare at
him this way, but he made me.  I felt connected to him for the first time
ever. He had fucked me, humiliated me, but I saw care in his eyes. He knew
me, he knew everything about me.

As I looked at him and jerked off, he talked to me:

"I love you son and I forgive you for everything bad you have done," he
said and continued, looking at me in the eyes as I jerked off.

"I'm sorry I wasn't a better father to you, but I'm gonna change that," he
said sincerely.

I only closed my eyes when I started to cum and let out a huge gusher,
hitting me on the chest and spreading out all over my body. My Dad came up
and was now on the floor with me, milking my spent shaft and rubbing my
chest. It felt great, the best orgasm I'd ever had and in fact and the most
powerful one. I was covered with my cum and with my Dad's.

After I caught my breath, Dad got up and pulled me up gently by the
hand. We headed for the shower.

"Get in the shower, on your knees," he said gently. I did as he told. My
punishment was not over apparently, I thought. I got onto my knees on the
cold tub and Dad grabbed his cock. Close your eyes and tilt your head
forward.  I did as he said, a little apprehensive.

A moment later, I felt warmth covering me and could smell fresh piss.

"You've got to learn you place son," he spoke as he emptied his bladder,
"that this is my home and you are my son. I'm the dominant male here, and
when you need to be reminded you of that, I am going to remind you of that
from now on." His warm stream was strong and covered my hair, face, chest,
stomach, cock, balls, ass, legs and feet. "As long as you live here, your
body is mine," he continued, "and you will obey me," he said as his stream
ended and he shook a few remaining drops onto my lips.

"Understand?" he said, and I opened my eyes: "Yes Sir, I understand," I
said and tasted his saltiness on my lips.

"Good boy," he said and gave me a smile.

I did feel humiliated. Dad had effectively put me in my place and stripped
me out of the guise of my own ridiculously inflated masculinity and
superiority.

We showered together and Dad washed my body from head to toe as if I were a
small child. He was gentle with my hole and I knew I would be sore for
days.

I changed after that. I was humbled. In my mind, I knew I'd been fucked and
humiliated by my father, not only because of it, but because inside me, I
knew I liked it. I liked being fucked, being passive to him. I was still a
jock, but I treated people with more respect and stopped my sleeping around
and excessive drinking.

I also came to the realization that I was gay and that my whole imagine of
this über macho guy was just a disguise. I didn't really come out until I
was a sophomore in college, but my sub/Dom relationship with my father
continued.

Anytime I wanted to get fucked, I would just come in, drop my pants and
bend over "the table". Dad would always oblige and give me a good rough
fucking. It became an emotional release for me. He also knew when I needed
it, and would take me anytime he felt it was necessary.  He got off on
putting me in my place.

At night, he would also come into my room, and I would awaken to the
familiar feeling of his thick shaft penetrating me. He liked surprising me
in bed.  He liked it even more when I would give him some resistance and
fight against him. Sometimes we would even wrestle and he would always
overcome me in the end, his massive, sweaty body, pressing against mine, as
he forced his enraged cock into my tight hole. It wasn't acting. Dad was
able to overcome me no matter how hard I fought and that turned both of us
on even more. Dad WAS dominant, period.

Eventually we started sleeping in the same bed and cuddling against one
another. Dad also loved kissing me and now I find it impossible to sleep
without Dad next to me, his body pressed next to mine, and his hand resting
snuggly on "his" cock and balls, those being mine.

Let know know if you liked the story: jackbequicky@gmail.com