Bad Dad Pays the Price
femavenger@hotmail.com
Second Annual entry to the "Father's Day" series from Femavenger's files
 
As a woman in my second year of college, I have been thrilled to have
discovered all of the "Girl Power" stories on this site. I so identify
with them! Girls who have subjugated their older brothers and
stepfathers. Young women who outsmart and overpower their bosses and
become the bosses themselves. Even a couple of girls who successfully
defend themselves against crooked cops, abuse them and get them into
trouble.
 
I am especially proud of the fact that many of the women are of my
generation, from their teens into their twenties. Since I was a little
girl I had the strong feeling that the females of my generation were
something really special, especially compared with our Gen-X
elders.(present company excluded of course. Women of any age who visits
this site is kewl.) My opinion was confirmed by the fabulous success
several years ago of the U.S. Women's soccer team in the World Cup. It
was all summed up at the time by the cover of Newsweek Magazine with
a picture of Brandi Chastain in all her sports-bra glory on the Rose Bowl
turf with the emblazoned headline "GIRLS RULE!"
 
My sentiments exactly. For many years, I have held the firm conviction
that my generation of women will one day rule the world, sooner rather
than later, and everything I have seen reinforces that belief. Not the
least of which has been what I have read on this site. They reflect my
own personal experience, which I am proud to relate now.
 
I read about the girl that caught her stepfather beating up her mother
and took matters into her own hands- fists, rather! I have no problems
with my own stepfather. He has always treated my mother like a queen, and
has been more of a true father to me than my biological father. My "real"
father was abusive to Mom and even me, but Mom and I got the last laugh
when I fucked him up for good!
 
My earliest memories of my father were horrifying. He would come home
drunk and beat up y mother, especially when she complained that he wasn't
spending as much time with his family as he should. Even on Christmas Eve
he would be out at the bar with his lowlife friends. Mom always put "Love
Mom and Dad" on the cards and presents, but I knew that I would have
gotten nothing at all if it wasn't for her.
 
I was too small to stop Dad from hurting Mom but one day he was being
especially brutal. I couldn't take it, so I tried to plead with him to
stop. In his rage, he grabbed my arm and flung me across the living room.
Luckily, I landed safely on the couch, but for Mom this was the last
straw. She picked up a chair and threatened to hit Dad with it. Angrily
he stalked out and back to the bar.
 
After comforting me, Mom and I quickly packed the car and in less than an
hour we left home, never to return. Mom didn't even fight Dad for the
house. She just wanted to get the hell out of there. The only place we
could go was to Mom's sister, my Aunt Cathy, who lived two hundred miles
away. Mom got a job as a secretary in a law firm and we were able to
afford a new apartment right away. Within a year Mom had been promoted to
Office Manager and shortly thereafter got engaged to one of the senior
partners.
 
My stepfather Tom is a wonderful man.  He treated Mom and me with more
respect than Dad ever did. We didn't have to worry about that drunken
bastard beating us up any more, and I grew up surrounded by material
comforts as well as two supportive parents. I grew into a tall,
attractive young woman, if I say so myself!  I had no problem attracting
boys, and with the example I had of my stepfather and my father, I could
tell the difference between the cool guys and the assholes.
 
But as much as life took an upward turn for Mom and me, Dad's life took a
turn for the worse! When I was twelve, Mom told me that she had heard
that Dad's plant closed down and that he was out of a job! She tried to
hide her satisfaction, but I could see that she was happy. I, on the
other hand, didn't conceal my glee. I jumped up and down, clapping my
hands in delight.
 
"Can we go watch Dad sign for his unemployment check, Mom?" I asked. Mom
smiled, but said no. She had moved on from that stage of her life.
 
Three years later, we heard more good news. For us that is - not for Dad!
He couldn't find another job, lost the house and went on welfare. His
drinking was heavier than ever. He was caught working a job off the b
books, and was convicted on a tax evasion charge because of it. He got
parole, but was arrested again driving the getaway car in an armed
robbery at a 7-11. This landed Dad in jail for what was supposed to be a
five year sentence.
 
I was so happy when I heard of Dad's misfortune. This time I REALLY
wanted to torment Dad by going to the courthouse when he was being
sentenced to prison. But again Mom said no, and since I was only 15 I
couldn't go on my own, but I could see the satisfaction in Mom's eyes.
 
My high school years were terrific. I was a good student and very
popular, without being a snob. And my strong self-confidence helped with
my part time job. I started to work at a fast-food restaurant after
school and on weekends. I proved to be a reliable worker with natural
supervisory skills, and that summer, when i worked full-time hours, I was
made an assistant manager. I was so successful that in my senior year I
was promoted to full-time manager, the youngest the store ever had, with
an after-school shift and a good paycheck to go with it!
 
I found an unexpected pleasure on the shift that I managed. Several
members of the crew that I supervised were middle-aged men, in their
forties and fifties, who had recently been laid off when a local factory
closed down. At their age no one else wanted to hire them. They had no
computer skills and though working in a burger joint was a step down for
them, in both status and pay, it was the only job that they could find,
so they had no choice but to take it.
 
I had so much fun busting these men's balls! Some of them were older than
my father and some of my teachers, but I was able to boss them around
more easily than kids that I had babysat for! The men hated having to
take orders from a teenaged girl who was younger than some of their own
kids, but they knew that they had no chance of getting better jobs so
they had to put up with me. 
 
This was my first experience with having power over people who resented
my authority but couldn't do anything about it. I love taking a fiercely
determined man, order him to do something that I know he'd'd consider
demeaning, and then watch his eyes go from determination, to anger, to
despair, to defeat!
 
The man that I particularly enjoyed tormenting was the father of a
classmate of mine, Bill, whom I never liked. Bill has always been a
boorish asshole, always making loud, macho, sexist comments. Bill Senior
was an older version of Bill Junior. I remember Bill Sr. from a few years
earlier, when he opposed letting girls join the Little League. I'm pretty
athletic and I am sure that I could have held my own against the boys in
baseball, but Bill Sr. saw to it that the girls didn't have a chance, and
Bill Jr. boasted about it to his friends in school. Bill Sr. physically
resembled his son and they were equals in the asshole department. And now
I was his boss! The thought of giving him a rough time was too delicious
to pass up, and Bill Sr. came to regret prohibiting us girls from playing
baseball!
 
And being Bill Sr.'s boss allowed me to torment Bill Jr. at school! I
made sure that the other kids knew that I was his father's boss at work.
Once he was flirting with a girl and I decided to take him down a peg,
and screw up his personal life. I ordered him to get on his knees and tie
my shoelaces, or else I would make his father spend his entire shift
later that day on his knees cleaning out the toilets. Bill Jr. hated to
do it, but he knew that I could fire his father, and would enjoy doing
it. So, though he glared at me with hatred, the same glare that I had
seen in his father's eyes, he did as I told him. Like father, like son!
Of course, the girl didn't want to be seen with Bill Jr. after that, and
she left while he was still on his knees at my feet. And once I fucked
with them at the same time. My parents and I went to a Chinese restaurant
one evening and there was Bill Jr. with HIS parents! Both Bills dropped
their utensils in surprise when they saw me. I took a seat, positioning
myself directly in their line of vision at a table ten feet away from
them. They tried to ignore me but they couldn't help giving me quick
looks every few seconds. Bill's mother faced away from me, and I'm sure
had no idea what was going on (neither did my parents!). I wondered
whether father and son had ever discussed me with each other. But whether
they had or not, it was clear that I had traumatized both guys, and,
looking at them, I realized how much I had fucked that family up!
 
That year, I applied to and was accepted at my first college choice, a
university in my old home town with an excellent pre-law program that I
was interested in. In the back of my mind was the thought that I would
now be able to check up on how dear old Dad was doing in prison!
 
The summer after I graduated, I got my big break. My store manager,
Elaine, made an inquiry to a store in our chain near my new campus and
gave them a glowing recommendation. They were looking to fill an evening
shift supervisory position, and said that if I was the right person for
the job they would hire me immediately.
 
I drove down that weekend and was interviewed by two women. Barbara, at
twenty-five, seemed very young for a franchise owner. I was to find out
later that she had blackmailed her stepfather into handing over ownership
to her and going into retirement. (That's another story, and one for
Barbara to tell, not me. I am trying to convince her to post her own
story about that!) Laurie, who had been the evening supervisor but was
moving up to general manager, was just a bit younger than Barbara. I
didn't know it at the time, but the two women were committed female
supremacists who were looking for a like-minded supervisor to fill the
post that Laurie was vacating. Barbara mentioned that all of the managers
were women and that men who worked there all were in lower positions and
every one of them was supervised by women, and they noted my smile of
approval.
 
Laurie cautiously told me that the men had gotten used to their balls
being busted and I responded with a smile and said "Well, I'm used to
busting men's balls!" I told them of my experience back home with Bill
Sr. and the other men, and they looked very happy. The women briefly
conferred and told me that if I was able to start the following week, the
job was mine.
 
I grabbed the opportunity. Not too many college freshwomen are able to
make a middle-class income that wouldn't interfere with their classwork,
and I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity! I had been planning to
 live in a dormitory like most first year students, but it was only July
and I had to move to take the job. I took a room in a large house, which
most 18 year-old girls couldn't afford as easily as I could. My two
housemates were both Seniors. Stacy was a pre-med student and Lance, a
gay guy, was into movie making. We all hit it off immediately.
 
The morning after I moved in, I went to the restaurant. Laurie was
training me to take over my shifts and handed e a list of those who would
be working under me. My heart jumped when at the bottom of the list, I
saw my father's name!
 
I asked Laurie about him, his age, looks, etc. It sure sounded like it
could be dear old Dad, but he was supposed to still be in jail. I asked
if this guy had recently been in prison. Laurie was surprised that I
would ask, but she said yes, and so were several other men on my shift!
It seems that the local District Attorney's office had a program
where prisoners were released early if a local business, with
the incentive of a tax credit, would hire them. Laurie looked at me
curiously and asked how I knew. I told her the whole story of how Dad
abused Mom and even me, and how he was my real father even though I used
Mom's last name, as she did herself.
 
Laurie grinned. "I knew that you would be perfect for this job when I
first saw you!" she exclaimed. "But I couldn't imagine that you would be
THIS perfect! To be able to bust your father's balls after the way he
abused your mother and you! And he knows that he has to take all of your
shit because if you fire him, which you are free to do at any time, he
goes back into the slammer!
 
"You mean," I asked, "if I felt like it I could fire him and he would
automatically go back to jail?"
 
"Yup!" Laurie replied. "That's the agreement that he made with the DA!" I
felt like I was in heaven!
 
At the beginning of the first shift, Laurie and Barbara introduced me to
my staff. I didn't even recognize Dad at first. I remembered him as this
big brute who used to beat Mom up. Of course, I was eight years old
then. But now that I was grown up, I was taller than Dad! I was 5'10",
and my once fearsome father was barely 5'9! He was balding, wrinkled,
bent and frail. Life had not been good to him. A thrill went through my
body as I realized that I would be able to beat him up if I wanted to!
And I DEFINITELY wanted to beat him up one day, when the time was right.
But more about that later.
 
Dad, before he realized who I was, eyed me lecherously, like lots of
dirty old men have since I was 13. He started looking more closely, as if
he might have recognized me when Barbara introduced me as Brooke. Dad's
eyes registered astonishment. Suddenly, it dawned on him that his
daughter, who he hadn't seen for over ten years , was now bigger than
him, and was his boss! 
 
I took Dad aside, relishing the fact that he had to look up at me. I
gripped his upper arm and he winced in pain. "Funny reuniting with me
like this, isn't it, Dad?" I chided. "The last time we were together you
grabbed me like this and threw me across the room! Well, now I'm bigger
and stronger than you are, Daddy!  I could throw YOU across the room now!
And I am your boss! Pretty cool, huh, Daddy?" Dad looked miserable, but I
couldn't have felt better!
 
"Tell me, Dad," I said, continuing to taunt him. "What did you prefer,
giving the blow jobs or taking it up the ass?" Dad looked shocked that
his little girl would talk to him like this. "You did get it both ways
when you were in the slammer, didn't you?"
 
Dad was fuming in anger and embarrassment. "Yeah," he said bitterly. "I'm
no faggot, but they made me do it!"
 
At that moment I felt a new hatred for Dad. I was only 18 and didn't know
many gays, but my housemate Lance is a wonderful person, smart and
humorous and a great cook. I couldn't  imagine a more loyal, caring
friend. Especially after recent hate crimes had happened, I considered
such a bigoted comment to be unacceptable. I promised myself to make Dad
regret his words.
 
And I busted the men's balls, especially Dad's. I called him "Dad" so
that everyone knew that I was his daughter - not because I was proud of
it, but because it added to his humiliation. And I took every opportunity
to humiliate him. I made Dad do the most menial tasks, and berated him in
front of the crew and the customers, just so that he would hate every
minute of the job that he had to go to in order to stay out of jail. I
once denied him the right to go to the bathroom until he finished
cleaning up the sink. Inevitably, he wet his pants, and of course I
loudly berated him for that!
 
Then, a month later, came a big break. Dad's landlady came to the
restaurant to complain that Dad was behind in his rent. He had rented a
room in a boarding house, and there were liquor bottles strewn all over
his room. He would be evicted by the end of the week if he didn't come up
with the five hundred dollars in back rent.
 
A devious plan formed in my mind. I told the landlady not to worry about
the rent. I would pay her myself, and Dad would be out of the place by
the end of the week. She happily accepted my terms.
 
That afternoon I presented Dad with his landlady's eviction notice and
told him that he was very close to going back into prison. I can't tell
you how thrilling it was to see the look of fear in his eyes. I told him
that I had a solution, but that the only way to keep from going back into
the slammer was to obey my  instructions completely. Knowing that he had
no choice, Dad meekly agreed.>  
That evening I talked everything over with my roommates, who both loved
my idea. Lance wa a big part of my plan, and I was overjoyed when he
agreed to go along with it. On Friday night we moved Dad's belongings
from his disgusting room into my house. I told him that because of his
irresponsibility he would have to sign his paycheck over to me and out of
that his rent and other expenses would be paid. He protested that this
was unfair and illegal. I reminded him that if he didn't like it, his
next home would be a prison cell. That was enough to shut him up!
 
I told Dad that it would be his responsibility to clean the house, do the
vacuuming, the bathroom and everything else. He wasn't happy but he
accepted it. I told him that he was servant of the house and that he
would have to obey every  order that we gave him. Grudgingly he agreed.
 
I introduced him to Stacy, who eyed him predatorily. Stacy has a devious
streak of her own, and I could see that she was already thinking up
horrible things to do to Dad. Then I introduced him to Lance, saying
"Meet your new roommate, Daddy!"
 
"Hi, honey! Lance preened in an exaggerated effeminate voice. "I hear
that you have a lot of experience with boys! Now that we're going to
spend lots of time together, we'll be able to teach each other lots of
things! We're going to have so much fun, Bitch!"
 
Dad was stunned and confused with all that was whirling about him.
"W-What?" he stuttered.
 
"Your daughter in effect owns you, right?" he answered. "Well, when she
asked me if I would take you as my bitch, and I said anything for my
friend Brooke! Of course I'll loan you out to Stacy, since she'll want to
have some fun with you, and whenever your daughter says is law, she has
given you to me, and I know that I can train you to be a lovely little
whore bitch!"
 
Dad looked helplessly at me, but I showed no mercy. "It's not like you
don't have experience with gay sex, Daddy." I chided. "And Lance will
wear a condom every time! That's more consideration than the big boys in
prison would have for you!
 
"B-But--" Dad stammered.
 
"But nothing, Daddy!" I answered firmly. "You have no say in the mater,
unless you want to go back to the slammer! You will have to learn to be a
nice bitch to Lance, or you're on your way!" Dad knew that he had no
choice as she lowered his eyes in defeat. Lance, Stacy and I grinned at
each other in victory and wicked anticipation.
 
Lance took my dazed father by the hand and led him away. I fingered
myself to orgasm as I listened to Dad's first squeals. Lance was wasting
no time with his new "bitch"!
 
When he wasn't at work, Dad performed his domestic duties around the
house. Lance inspected his work daily and if it wasn't perfect, Lance was
extra rough with him last night! I loved to listen to Dad's gurgling,
knowing that he had Lance's big, gay cock in his mouth. And when I heard
those wretched moans, I knew that the big cock was impaling dear old
Dad's asshole.
 
But as horribly as Lance treated him, Dad dreaded his sessions with Stacy
even more. Stacy would enter medical school the next year, and she was so
fascinated by male sexual organs that she decided to specialize in
urology! Her fascination and expertise with stimulating the balls and
cocks of her boyfriends has caused them to consider her the best fuck
they ever had. But Stacy's curiosity about the male genitalia caused he
her to want to experiment with them i ways that she would never do with
her boyfriends, or anyone else that she liked. Dad, on the other hand,
was available and unlikable, and had no recourse but to but up with
Stacy's sadistic tormenting.
 
The sounds that came from Stacy's bedroom were horrific when she had Dad
in there. I later learned that she was experimenting with different
devices, as well as her own fingers, applying different levels of
pressure to different parts of his testicles. Sometimes she tortured one
ball at a time, and sometimes both together. She loved mashing both of
his balls together with one hand while painfully holding his head so that
he had to look at her beautiful smile and realize how much she was
enjoying hiving him pain.
 
After a month, Stacy gave Lance and me a demonstration. First she gently
tickled Dad's ball sac and the underside of his penis, causing him to
become erect. Then she suddenly jabbed her thumbnail into his left
testicle, then his right, and then she squeezed them both. He fell to his
knees, his penis soft once again. Stacy grabbed his balls and pulled
upwards, causing Dad to frantically pick himself up off of the floor. She
repeatedly flicked her thumbs at his balls, grabbing them when he tried
to squirm away. She picked up a pen and, cupping his balls in the palm of
the other hand, jabbed him again and again, leaving a blue ink souvenir
marking that particular stabbing of his manhood. By the time Stacy was
done, Dad's balls had over a hundred pen marks, documenting over a
hundred attacks on his pathetic manhood. And of course, Dad's penis had
gone soft a long time before!
 
"Now look at this!" chirped Stacy as she gently massaged the very balls
that she had just inflicted incredible pain upon. "Men are so weak! I
just savaged your father's balls with this hand, but his prick doesn't
seem to care! It's getting hard anyway! What a weakling!" Stacy was
right. The fingers that had caused him agony seconds before were now
getting him hard, and he was powerless to stop Stacy. She had more
control over his body than he did! "But what's really amazing," she
continued, "is that he KNOWS that the only reason that I'm getting him
hard is so that I can make him soft again - like this!" Stacy then
viciously twisted Dad's balls, and sure enough, his little wee wee was
shriveled up again!
 
Stacy repeated the erection-deflation process five more times, using
different weapons on his balls each time - toothpicks, clothespins with
alligator clamps, holding his scrotum taut and rubbing a cheese grater
against it, jabbing his testicles and piss-hole with the red hot tip of
the cigarette that she was smoking (Stacy didn't regularly smoke, but she
found it to be a great torture device for Dad's balls!) And each time,
after each new torment, he couldn't help himself from getting hard again
when Stacy's evil fingers became friendlier. Dad knew that all erections
he got would end in ball-tortured softness, but he couldn't help himself
from playing, quite literally, into Stacy's expert hands.
 
Stacy's goal, she tells me, is to become more of an expert on the male
organs than men themselves! She has already learned a lot from her
experimenting with Dad, and has gotten lots of satisfaction from
torturing and manipulating his genitalia. But her dreams go much further.
Hippocrates wouldn't have approved, but Stacy plans to combine her
medical skills and the trust that she will have as a highly regarded
urologist with her darker, more devious side. She will use her position
to continue her sadistic experiments.
 
Stacy talks of putting little micro-clamps on all of the veins and
vessels in the groin area that she cold open or close bu pushing the
buttons on a "universal remote" controlling or even disabling all of the
men's urinary and sexual functions, or keeping them perpetually erect if
she wanted to. She talks of implanting electrodes inside men's testicles,
causing the men terrible agony as easily as switching television
channels. And she would get away with it because her victims would be so
frightened of her that they wouldn't breathe a word of it for fear that
she could blast their balls to bits at the movement of a finger, and to
everyone else she would appear to be a highly esteemed pillar of the
medical community!
 
After a few months, however, we were getting bored with Dad. Lance came
to me and said that as much as he enjoyed abusing Dad, he had found a
boyfriend who he wanted to move in and with whom he wanted a more
conventional relationship. Stacy said that she would never tire of
tormenting Dad's testicles, but that the repetition was getting tedious
and she didn't want to go any further for fear of running afoul of the
law. Soon enough, she said, she would be able to continue her work with
more legal cover. (I didn't know what she meant by that at the time, but
I soon found out!)
 
And as much as I enjoyed tormenting Dad at work, the effort that it took
wasn't worth it after I was satisfied that I had made Dad truly regret
the brutal way that he had treated Mom. But though we decided to get rid
of Dad, we didn't want to let him off the hook! We wanted him out of our
hair but not out of our ultimate control. So Stacy, Lance and I sat down,
put our heads together and came up with an ingenious plan.
 
The plan took three stages, and Dad never had a clue about what would
happen next. First, I called Mom. I had kept my reacquaintance with Dad a
secret from her, but now I told her how I managed to become his boss, and
how I had forced him to live in our house. I told her that I wanted her
to visit Dad before we disposed of him. At first she was reluctant, but
with insistent urging she finally agreed to come for a visit on Dad's
final weekend in the house.
 
Mom arrived on Friday evening. All Dad knew was that a "special guest"
was coming, and that his job that night was to serve her as he had served
Stacy, Lance and me. As ordered, he kept his head down as he crawled to
Mom's feet, kissed each one and then started licking them. Mom couldn't
suppress a giggle, and a startled Dad recognized the voice and looked up
in horror. "N-Nancy?" Dad sputtered. Mom nodded to Dad as she giggled
loudly in delight, since there was no need to conceal her identity any
longer.
 
"So we meet again, Henry Dear!" Mom purred to her ex-husband.
 
I stood Dad up, showing off to Mom that I was now taller than him. Stacy
and I stripped off his clothes and tied his wrists together, then his
ankles. We threw him on Stacy's bed, which Mom was using that night.
"He's all yours, Mom!" I said. "Remember all the ideas that Stacy and I
gave you!" Stacy, who was sleeping on the living room couch that night to
make room for Mom, told Mom that if she was having a problem handling
him, she should just give a shout.
 
"Thanks, Stacy," Mom said, "but I'll handle him just fine! If I had the
self-confidence years ago that I have now, I NEVER would have let him
abuse me. But then I wouldn't have met my wonderful second husband!
Anyhow, don't worry about me. Any shouts you hear will be from Henry, and
all that you will hear from me will be moans of pleasure!" Mom looked
down at Dad. "I have owed you a payback for over ten years, ex-hubby!"
Mom murmured. "And thanks to our wonderful, clever daughter, tonight's
the night!" We could see that Mom was making Dad eat her out. Stacy had
read a story on the site of a girl who made her stepfather remove her
dentures before orally servicing her and her mother, and got the idea to
do the same thing to Dad. Now Dad was gumming Mom to sexual bliss,
judging by her moans. The muffled sounds that followed meant that Mom was
now sitting on Dad's face, and Dad's sudden strangles shriek meant that
Mom had grabbed Dad's balls and he was screaming up her asshole! As with
Stacy when she did this, Mom moaned in ecstasy. Then came the ball
torture that Stacy had briefed her on. And then came a strange sound. It
was the type of rhythmic, retching sound that Dad had made when Lance
drilled his ass. I thought that maybe Lance had joined Stacy, but in the
morning I learned what had happened. Mom had her own ideas on how to get
revenge against Dad, and she had purchased a foot-long dildo from an
adult bookstore on her way down! The retching sounds were that of Mom
raping Dad's ass! I was surprised at Mom's enthusiasm and the sadistic
pleasure that had been awakened within her, and was proud of her for
acting on it.
 
I have never seen a more blissful, satisfied expression on Mom's face
than when she finally came out of the bedroom on Saturday morning. She
hugged me and thanked me for taking revenge on Dad and for allowing her
to punish him in the manner that she did. "I had over a decade's worth of
anger to get out. I feel like a new woman now!" she proclaimed.
 
After Mom left that afternoon, I had Dad move all of the chairs, couches
and tables in the living room to the outside perimeter, leaving a large
open space in the center of the room. Little did Dad know that he was
preparing himself for "Phase Two".
 
That evening, Lance, Stacy, some of fo our friends and some colleagues of
mine from the restaurant came over and sat in the living room as I led
Dad into the middle of the room. :Remember when you used to beat up
Mommy?" I asked. "Remember when you grabbed my arm and flung me across
the room when I was eight years old, Daddy?" Dad didn't answer, but was
starting to look miserable. "Well, Daddy, put up your dukes and try to
defend yourself, because I intend to beat the shit out of you!"
 
As I bounced on the balls of my feet, jabbing my fists in the air towards
Dad's direction, Dad nervously put his fists up and adopted a defensive
posture. A thrill ran through my body as I looked at Dad. He was scared!
"Deer in the headlights" and all that! I was once scared to death of HIM.
I'm sure that the same thought was going through his mind at the time. He
used to look so big to me, and I am sure that he was thinking that I used
to be so small in comparison to him. Until a month before, he couldn't
even imagine that his once "little" daughter would be getting physical
revenge against him, and that he would be defenseless to stop it.
 
I knew that my body was physically superior to Dad's, of course, but even
I was surprised at the ease at which I was able to beat him up. His
defenses were pathetic! He clumsily tried to protect his head with his
arms, but he couldn't keep up with all of my blows to the rest of his
body, and when he dropped his arms, I punched out his ugly face too! He
slumped to the floor, so I took the opportunity to kick him all around
the room, to the applause of my guests. I pulled him up and pounded him
back down. He was a bruised mess when I was finished with him. But
personally, I never felt better in my life!
 
That evening, Lance abused his "bitch", for the last time in the house,
although Dad had no idea. I spent the night with my own boyfriend and
mimicked Dad's actions - except that I had Roger eat me out while Dad was
sucking Lance off, and let Roger fuck me, from the front, while Lance was
invading Dad's back door. I sent roger home when he was done. Normally I
would have him stay the night, but I needed him out of the way for "Phase
Three" in the morning.
 
Our plan worked perfectly! At 8:00 in the morning, Stacy grabbed Dad from
behind and I gave him two blows below the eyes, giving him fresh bleeding
wounds. This was essential to our plan if we wanted to fool the police!
Then, I kicked him in the balls. Stacy let go of Dad and he fell to the
floor, curling up in agony. At that point Stacy took over the kicking
while I went to the phone and called 911.
 
The police were at the house in minutes. As they entered, the three of us
were kicking Dad all over his body. The main reason we did that is
because we felt that it would make our story seem more realistic to the
cops, and the bonus is that we were putting Dad through even more agony!
 
 Stacy, Lance and I gave Academy Award caliber performances as we
tearfully told the cops that Stacy had caught Dad trying to steal her
jewelry. He got angry and tried to rape her, Stacy told the cops, but
fortunately Lance and I came in just in time to stop the attack. Dad kept
coming at us, we told the cops, and we had to beat him in the process of
subduing him. This accounted for the fresh blackened eyes. After the cops
saw that, they didn't look close enough to notice that the other bruises
had been there from the previous night!
 
Dad stared in open-mouthed astonishment as he listened to Stacy, Lance
and me tell our tale in open-mouthed astonishment. Of course everything
that we were telling the police was bullshit, but no one was going to
believe Dad over us, with his history! He tried to protest that we were
lying, that we had set him up, which was true -  but of course his pleas
were ignored. The police led him away. Stacy and I signed official
complaints and Dad was officially charged and arraigned the next day.
 
Although Dad was totally innocent of the charges, even his lawyer, an
inept Public Defender just out of law school, didn't believe Dad and
wanted him to plead guilty. But with his previous tax evasion and armed
robbery charges, this would be a third conviction. Our state has a "three
strikes and you're in" law which would keep Dad in jail for virtually the
rest of his life! So this, along with Dad's knowledge of his innocence,
caused him to plead not guilty and fight the charges.
 
At the trial, Stacy and I again gave Oscar-level performances, tears and
all, and the judge and jury ate it all up! We dressed more conservatively
than usual. We wore glasses to make us appear more innocent. Stacy wore
her long blonde hair in pigtails, making her look younger than her twenty
years, and more vulnerable than she actually was. I had pulled my hair
into a ponytail. We both spoke in hushed, timid, quavering voices, and
more than once I had to put my hands over my mouth and face while
testifying. Most people thought that I was crying, but I was really
hiding my laughter! Poor Daddy looked so miserable, knowing that I was
laughing at him from the witness stand in front of everyone, but only he,
Stacy, Lance and I knew the truth!
 
The jury convicted Dad in less than an hour. At the sentencing, the judge
chastised Dad for trying to take advantage of two "innocent, vulnerable
girls" who had "generously" taken him in when he lost his apartment. It
took all of our strength for Stacy and me to keep from laughing! The
judge couldn't imagine that the "vulnerable", pigtailed Stacy was in
actuality a ball-torture sadist who had put Dad through unspeakable
misery over the previous months, or that an I, the innocent waif that had
taken her poor father in, only to have him take advantage my compassion,
had actually beaten the shit out of Dad for fun, accounting for his
battered body.
 
As he was being led out, Dad motioned for me. "How could you set me up
like this? You know that I'm innocent. Where's your sense of justice?"
 
I leaned over to Dad and whispered into his ear, making sure that no one
else could hear. This IS justice!" I said. "True justice! You should have
gone to jail years ago for the way you beat mom. You weren't charged
then, so if you're spending the rest of your life in jail now for
something that you didn't do, it just even things out!"
 
I loved the helpless look in Dad's eyes and continued my whispered
taunting. "Just think of it this way, Dad. It's too late for the
authorities to charge you, so I hereby charge you with brutality to both
your wife and your daughter. Think of your daughter as a one woman jury
who decided to convict you. Your daughter is your personal judge, who has
made sure that you have been sentenced to spend most, if not all, of the
rest of your miserable life in jail. And I have tricked the criminal
justice system into carrying out my sentence and keeping you incarcerated
for me!" Dad looked so miserable as he was put in the van that took him
to prison.
 
I was so proud of myself! I had pulled off the perfect frame-up, but it
was nothing less than Dad deserved. I could have simply fired him, and
that would have been enough to send him back to prison. But he would have
been out in two years. Now, he would be in jail for a long time, and he
would know that he was serving my personal punishment for what he had
done to Mom and me. All paid for by the taxpayers and enforced by the
state! how kewl is that! After all of these years, justice was finally
being served.
 
But if Dad consoled himself with the thought that in prison he would at
least be safe from his former housemates, he was sorely disappointed.
Stacy is now in medical school, and now I know what she meant when she
talked about getting "legal cover" for her experiments. She was able to
sign up for a volunteer program to work at the prison where Dad was. Soon
she gained the trust of the prison medical staff and was able to maneuver
herself into privately "examining" her old victim.
 
Stacy excitedly described the horror in Dad's eyes the first time, behind
prison walls, he found himself face to face with his beautiful blonde
tormentress. She warned him that if he didn't "play ball", she would cry
rape, and there was a guard right outside the door, and she would see to
it that he was thrown in solitary confinement. Dad actually cried as he
realized that even in prison, Stacy was able to get him alone and
continue her ball-torture! It's a maximum security prison, but Dad isn't
secure from Stacy there! She goes inside once a month to play with Dad's
balls. And she gets medical school credit for working at the prison!
 
And my pre-law program has an internship program where, through the
District Attorney's office, I could get paid working right there at the
correctional facility where Dad was! Come July, though he doesn't know it
yet, I'll be inside with him during the day, and I know that I am clever
enough to figure out a way and a place where I can get him alone and give
him another good beating before going home, leaving him to rot for
another night in jail, no doubt servicing the "big boys".
 
And Lance just got a grant to produce a student documentary at the
prison! He'll be spending the summer there too! Wouldn't it be kewl if
the tree of us were able to be alone in his cell with him?
 
But what is most satisfying is the gratitude that Mom has shown. We have
been closer than ever since she tortured Dad that night in my house. She
said that she has learned much from Stacy and me. That's not surprising.
In fact it fits into my theory about how the woman of my generation will
soon run the world. Maybe I'll detail and document my theory in another
posting. But in short, it captures the spirit of the words on that
Newsweek cover: "GIRLS RULE!"