A NONCON Dad/Daughter Erotica Short Story with lashing (belt) and anal.

I don't care about a lot of things. Not since Mom died. Since then, it's just been me and Grayson. My father. A man who somehow manages to be both completely invested in my life and at the same time so fucking distant. He finds every single way, every single angle, to get involved when I don't need him to, and it pisses me off so much.

And the latest thing he does is the final straw for me. His new wife. A twenty-seven-year-old blonde bimbo who is, for God knows why, older than me by just two years. When he brought her home to introduce her to me, I was stunned, and it still feels like a goddamn slap in the face. I'm twenty-five, and somehow, Dad decides to marry a woman in my age bracket.

I've been fine with his relationships up until this point. I don't mind him dating and don't care if he spends his weekends with some random woman, diving between anything that moves. After all, it's none of my business. But this? This feels like a betrayal.

Today, I make the conscious decision to show up late for his class-again. Because, why not? Not that I need a reason to, anyway. I'm a junior, but my father is a professor at the same college. His course is a joke, honestly. I can't bear to watch him teach about values, knowing his so-called values are questionable. But it’s an elective I need for my degree, so here we are.

I saunter into the classroom like I own the place, black lace skirt swishing around my legs, boots clicking against the polished marble floors. My pin-straight black hair swishes with each movement I take, falling onto my shoulders. The room is empty, except for the man standing by his desk, packing his papers.

I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, and take a long look at him. He doesn't look back, probably too busy with whatever paperwork he's going to pretend to grade over the next few weeks.

“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to say something?” he finally grumbles, his voice echoing through the large classroom, not even bothering to face me.

“Why? Did you miss me, old man?” I drawl, a smile pulling on my dark-painted lips. I push off the doorframe and begin walking toward his desk, my boots making a satisfying clack with every step. He doesn't respond. He never does. Instead, his back stiffens. I can tell he's holding back.

“Not here for the lecture, just here to piss you off,” I add, with a satisfied smirk.