Ugh! Inju's Worst. Date. Ever.
by Mecca
I was high-key excited. Tom Redding, captain of the football team and certified handsomest boy in Washington High School, was taking me out. Me! Out of all girls! He had come to his senses, broken up with that trashy Michelle Schwartz and, due to an extensive campaign cooked up by me and my bestie Angela, had finally noticed this beautiful brown girl. Me! Fuck. Yes.
Angela and I spent all fifth period geeking out after he asked me. We passed notes back and forth, with things like my name in front of his last name (“Mrs. Inju Redding”—nice), until Mrs. Hockenson almost caught us. She asked us to quiet down.
So, as soon as I got home, I hit the shower, did my face and hair, and got everything perfect. I bought this cute top from Lulus ($150) for Jeremy’s party and ever since Jeremy canceled (LAME), I’ve been waiting for a good time to use it. I checked the mirror and sent a pic to Angela. She said I looked legit like a princess or some shit. OMG I love her.
The only problem: Dad. I knew he was going to come up with some chores or other bullshit at the last minute. He had been such a bitch and cuntblock for the last year. I mean, I get it, but c’mon. I just want to have some fun for once in my boring fucking life. Teenagers are supposed to go out and have fun.
I came downstairs quietly and sat in the living room, hoping Dad wouldn’t notice. He had his hands full because Sanjay was crying his head off and Irfan was asking about dinner. All signs pointed to my impending clean getaway.
But of course the only daughter is going to get noticed when I do anything. Especially in this family. Seeing me in my makeup, my hair did, and my cute top and earrings (DKNY $99), Dad asked, “Where are you going?”
“Out,” I said innocently. It was then that I realized I should’ve met him at Angela’s house or somewhere safe. Whatever, I knew one way or another I was leaving this house.
“Oh?” I could see Dad was going to try to start an argument. I didn’t see why he couldn’t just leave me alone. I’m a grown woman. I’ve been dating already. In a year I’d be away at college. But Dad is, of course, old school. He probably wanted me to abstain from dating until he arranged a husband for me.
“On a school night?”
“God, yes!” I tried to act like it was no big thing, as Angela instructed. “Everyone else is doing it! Don’t be weird. I’ve already gone out before during the week.” I wanted to punch myself. He didn’t know that I had already gone out during school weeks.
“You have? When?”
“C’mon, dad, everyone else gets to do it,” I whined.
“Have you done your homework?”
“Yes,” I said. It was a little white lie. Dad looked at me silently, staring into my eyes. Ugh, I don’t know why, but something inside of me twisted and I had to tell the truth. “Okay, I have one algebra assignment, but it’s mostly done. It will take like ten minutes to finish.”
“You’re not going out until you finish your homework,” he said, matter-of-factly.
He seemed adamant. But there was no way I could back down. After all, Tom was already on his way. “He’s going to be in here in like…” Okay, don’t say ten minutes because I just said that my homework will take ten minutes. But if I say five and Tom’s 15 minutes late, I’ll be in trouble. “...seven minutes.”
“Good, that’s enough time for you to finish your homework,” countered my jerk dad, failing to understand basic math.
“Okay, it might take a little longer, like 30 minutes!”
“It keeps getting longer and longer,” Dad observed.
“Dad, be reasonable. Don’t be a jerk!” I shouted.
“Did you just call me a jerk? You’re staying home that’s it,” Dad demanded.
Panic. Tom was already on his way. Good things were happening, I just needed my stupid dad to not get in my way! “Dad, he’s going to be here!” I said.
“Call him and tell him not to come.”
“Dad, c’mon! Please!”
Dad said nothing, just turned around and went back to the kitchen. I was defeated. Tom, my handsome prince, had been prematurely defeated by Dad and the night was ruined. I can’t forgive Dad for this. I mean, we could go out another time, but this would’ve been perfect. I sent Tom a message, “Hey, I gotta cancel tonight. Sorry. #DadIssues”
I sulkingly went upstairs, and fucked around on my phone for a few minutes, waiting for Tom’s reply. Would he be mad? All of us have issues with our parental units, so it’s not like I was blowing him off for no reason. Tom would understand.
Then I heard the doorbell ring. I almost broke my neck scrambling down the stairs. Dad gave me an angry look from the kitchen, but then ducked his head away to deal with Sanjay. I opened the front door and closed it behind me. It was Tom. My pussy almost jumped out of my jeans. I was so happy, despite our misfortune.
“Did you get my text?” I asked, smiling. Tom was already looking at his phone and looked up suddenly.
“Oh, snap,” said Tom, handsomely. “I’m sorry. I was driving.”
Ugh. He was hot and responsible. I was the irresponsible one, expecting him to check his texts while he was driving. He was the perfect man. And we had the literally perfect chance to get away, despite my dad’s command I do homework. I could leave, come back real quick, and deal with the consequences then. I opened the front door a crack to see if my dad was around.
“Let’s go,” I said, not seeing my dad.
Just then Dad came out of kitchen, ruining everything again.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said. I opened the door wider and sulked back in. “And, boy, why are you here?”
Tom was sitting on the porch, but I beckoned him inside with my hand. Tom entered our home.
“He didn’t get the text!” I explained. “Look, we’ll be gone two hours, max.” Dad couldn’t stop us now. Tom was already here! It was fate. Plus, if Dad balked, I had a secret weapon.
At this point, Irfan was yelling at dad something about being hungry or some shit. I don’t remember. What I remember is what Dad said next.
“You’re grounded! For two weeks!” said Dad.
I was enraged. I hadn’t even done anything yet! I did everything he asked me to, including sending the cancellation text. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t read it!
Tom, being the charming polite person he was, asked, “Maybe I should go?”
“No! We’re going out!” I said. This was literally ridiculous. I just wanted a small break tonight. That’s all. Nothing crazy. I didn’t want to use it, but Dad had forced my hand. I had a secret. Something I had figured out. The thing was I figured this: although he was my father, he couldn’t stop me. “Look, you can ground me, but you can’t keep me here and as soon as you turn your back I’m sneaking out and you won’t even know.”
Dad had been working late to make up for mom’s lost income. This left plenty of time for me to escape the house undetected, except for Irfan, who could be easily bribed and/or blackmailed. No matter how many punishments he threatened, and concerns about my grades and college he faked, Dad was not in the house 24/7. He was really only at home for about 10 hours on any given day, and some days, he was only here to sleep. I could slip in and out of the house, undetected, and he would never know. “You can’t stop me,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I can take away the money for your prom,” Dad said. This hit me like a gut punch. I had figured there was nothing he could do to me. At this point I make my own dinners, wash my own clothes, even pay for my own cellphone bill. I figured Dad was just a guy who let me live in the house for free rent. But I forgot about prom. I was gonna get a fancy dress, stay in a nice hotel with my friends and rent a limo. He was going to smash that to pieces. My brilliant plan had fallen apart. I was furious and distraught at the same time.
“That’s not fair! I wish mom was the one who was still alive,” I said, not really thinking.
Dad got real quiet. Had I gone too far? It didn't matter. Now that I’d said it out loud, nothing mattered. I might as well leave with Tom right now, I figured. My prom money was gone, and I ruined my relationship with my dad, so might as well make the best of it. He was going to renege on the one thing he’d promised me, so I had no reason to hold back my feelings. Yet, in a way, I was kind of proud that I’d stood up to him. I still am. But it was a mistake.
“IRFAN, GO TO YOUR ROOM!” Dad boomed in his serious voice. Irfan, who had been quietly watching from the stairs, ran to his room. Sanjay started crying. Dad paid him no mind.
“C’mere,” Dad said.
Dad looked angrier than I’d ever seen him. I thought perhaps I had gone too far. Maybe there was more he could do to punish me. He won’t hit me will he? I backed away, but he caught my arm.
I don’t know if I have mentioned how big my dad is. His friends used to call him Pahalwan, or “the wrestler”. He has a big broad chest and is still pretty fit from his rugby days. Whereas I am skinny (barely even have any boobs) and I am 4’11” on a good day. He pulled me over to him like it was nothing.
It’s been a long time since he’s laid hands on me, good or bad. After mom died, he stopped doing things like picking me up while dancing. He doesn’t dance anymore. He doesn’t hug. All he does is yell, complain, and care for Sanjay. So while I’d had the silly notion that I’d gotten too big for him to pick up and carry, he put that idea to bed real quick. I was scared.
And I was scared for a good reason. He tossed me over the arm of the sofa so hard, it knocked the wind out of me. While I was catching my breath, he stepped behind me, used his feet pushing mine open and then locking me in place with his body weight.
“Dad?” I said, confused.
Everything happened so fast, I had literally no time to react. He reached around and grabbed my belt (just some cheap Steve Madden or something), unbuckled it and threw it across the room. All the while I was trying to make sense of it because I knew, I knew there was no chance he was going to do what I thought he might. I still can’t believe it.
My jeans came next ($220 at Bloomingdales). They were never super tight, but the waist was a tight fit and he pulled those down to my thighs with a heavy, hairy fist like they were a pair of particularly baggy sweatpants.
“Dad!” I said, shocked.
He said nothing, and instead just grabbed again, this time pulling my cute striped panties down with the jeans to my knees. This fucking asshole had just pantsed me in the middle of the living room. And this is when I realized Tom was still here. My ass cheeks were just waving in the wind and TOM WAS STILL HERE. FML.
So I didn’t want to cry, but when your own (piece of shit) father strips you nude in front of your date and soon-to-be boyfriend, the tears just start flowing. I looked behind me to see if Tom was still here. OMG, he WAS. And he was looking, the rat bastard! In his defense he looked guilty, and he looked away as soon as he saw my teary eyes.
I was literally too embarrassed to live. My heart started pumping out of my chest, and I started to sweat although I felt cold. My full ass was on display, only blocked by my dad’s body, but Tom could see my dummy thicc ass if he just looked around my dad’s huge body. I was like, this can’t be happening.
“Dad, no!” I cried. Does he not realize I am too big for a spanking? And even if I was a little girl, you don’t spank a girl in front of her friends! This is a spanking, right? He pushed me down with a heavy hand on my back and I soon got my answer.
As I was rising back up to see what my dad was up to, I heard a powerful slap and—a full second later—I felt a warmth on my buns. He had just spanked my butt like I was a little kid and I breathed out a “hunnh” from the force of it. But where was the pain? Just like the heat had taken a second to register, a flame of pain spread like wildfire across my curvy backside. Fuckkkk it hurt! The pain had caused my body to literally curl up; like I arched my back so far the back of my head almost touched my own ass. And my feet left the floor. I grimaced, hard, but looked back again to see if he was done.
Spoiler alert: He was not.
My asshole father had taken a step back so he had more room to gather momentum. His arm was wound back and in his fist was his black belt, no longer keeping his pants up. Instead, it was his weapon do deliver discipline to his poor fat-bottomed daughter.
The first strike hurt so bad, I didn’t see any need to follow it up with another! He obviously thought differently. I didn’t know what to say to get him to stop, so I just blurted out, “I’m too big for a spanking!” I’m 18 after all. This was ridiculous!
Still, I felt the crash of the belt as it sliced into my brown bottom. I wonder if it caused one of those waves that ripple across the butt, like you can only see in slo-mo in those BDSM videos. Hot.
Anyways, I could only imagine the imprint the wide leather was leaving on my precious hiney skin. I don’t think I’m hot or anything, but I have always liked my butt. Both Angela and David had said it’s cuter than Sheila’s and everyone knows Sheila has a cute ass. But I digress.
I was still yelling “spanking” when the second strike hit. And it was less like “spanking” and more like “SPAAAAINking” because I screamed from the pain of the blow. The pain came much quicker this time. I completely forgot about my panic and fear at Tom seeing my bare naked ass and focused only on stopping my dad’s rampage against my buttocks. It was clear that he was going to give me a long and proper spanking, like when I was little and did something really bad.
I gritted my teeth and braced for the next blow. I don’t know why I didn’t resist. I think I thought I could handle it. My dad struck my backside with the belt a third time, finding a new, previously unhurt space on my ass. “Oww!” I yelped. I knew at this point, I definitely could not handle this.
“I’m too big!” I repeated, my face now flooded with tears. I looked back at him so he could see my face, complete with pitiful Daughter Eyes. He had to be still capable of reason, right? Plus, the Daughter Eyes had never failed me before.
Wrong. Failure. He grunted passionately as he laid another smackdown on my glutes. And I wasn’t getting used to the pain. It was just getting worse. At this point, I wasn’t thinking at all, my body just tried to scramble away. My legs lifted and my arms reached out to pull myself away from this maniac. But he struck me again. The sound of my booty being destroyed ricocheted around the room. All I could feel was fire. All I could see was fire.
This caused me to pause for a second to react to the pain, but in the next second I was moving again, crawling forward on the couch. I successfully crawled away, my half-nude body distended across the couch and my waist thankfully no longer bent over the arm of the couch. His heavy, hairy arm reached forward, pinched my waist, and pulled me back into place with little effort. I was a mere ragdoll in his hands.
“Where are you going?” he said. Like some half-rate horror movie villain.
While I bemoaned my luck and his strength, he smacked my butt again with the belt. I swear to God my vision went white for a second. I’m sure I screamed or something. He was holding me down now, so there was no chance of escape. I placed my hand between him and my sore bottom. He told me to move it, but then smacked my butt again, hitting my hand in the process. I moved my hand out of the way in pure reflex to the pain.
I was in Hell, literal Hell. No cap. I was been spanked harder than I’d ever been and I remembered that my date had been watching the whole thing. While I contemplated this humiliation, I was struck for the sixth time. Or seventh? I don’t know, I’ve lost count.
“Okay!” I cried tearfully. “Okay! I’m sorry!” But mad dad just kept spanking my ass. WHAP! WHAP! “Please. Please!” WHAP! WHAP! “I said I was sorry!” WHAP! WHAP! “Daddyyy!”
***
After what seemed like an eternity, Dad was done. Tom says it hadn’t been even ten minutes. I’ve checked my ass in the mirror today and it seems like last night’s bruises would take at least 30 minutes to make. I think Tom is wrong.
After finishing, Dad said, “Go do what you want,” and left to care for Sanjay, who was still crying.
I pulled up my jeans slowly, so as not to rub the rough denim against my sore ass, and looked behind me. Tom had moved back and was now leaning against the living room wall. He had a sheepish look on his face. Like he was the one who was embarrassed. Even though I was massively humiliated and I literally couldn’t look Tom in the face, I was also really pissed at Dad, so I told Tom I just wanted to get out of there. I silently marched to his car and we took off.
As he drove, I was thinking about how Tom had witnessed all of our family drama on one night. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he got to see my curvy naked booty, but when it had been all reddened with fresh bruises. Ugh, even worse than that was that he probably saw my pussy, especially when I had tried to crawl away. I didn’t even shave! I was thinking he wouldn’t get to see it that night. FML, he’s seen my hairy pussy and maybe even the curly hairs around my ass. I hate my stupid genes.
So, he’s seen my hairy asshole and probably won’t want to fuck me. Oh god, and he’ll tell everyone! About my broken family and hairy ass. Great, the Indian girl has a hairy asshole, confirmed, and all the stereotypes are true, and the whole school is going to know. My choices are to fuck him soon to keep him quiet and possibly be branded a slut, or break it off with him because he’s seen too much and that way I can deny everything. No one’s seen us together, so I can deny we ever went out.
I mean those aren’t fair choices, but what else can I do? And I doubt he’ll want to fuck because of the aforementioned hairy ass, so we have to break up. I was really looking forward to shaving my ass and getting his cock up there, too. But maybe he’s one of those freaks who likes hairy girls. Those guys totally exist. Hm. Maybe this could work out.
Anyway, while I was thinking some of this last night sitting quietly in his car, Tom turns to me and breaks the silence with, “So I was thinking maybe we could get a burger? Or something?”
I really like Tom, but he has to learn when to shut the fuck up.