House Rules
By Rude Boy, rudeboi66@yahoo.com
A father is bullied by his Crossfit loving teen daughter


"Thank you for letting me know, Mrs. Preston. I'm so sorry. I will talk to her
right away. Thank you for sending her assignments. I'll make sure she
completes them." John Stevens was livid as he hung up with his daughter's high
school principle. There had been a fight that afternoon. John's daughter,
Brittany, a 16 year old sophomore, had beaten beaten up a junior boy. It
wasn't the first time, and now she was suspended for two weeks. John wanted to
believe he'd raised his daughter right, but ever since her mother left a few
years earlier, she had become wilder and more rebellious. She was no longer
his little girl.

From a young age, Brittany had a near-manic energy, which she channeled into
athletic pursuits. Even as an underclassman, she was already standout
midfielder on the varsity soccer team, and when she wasn't on the field she
was at the local CrossFit gym or in the basement gym John had built to help
encourage her. She had her sights on a national ranking at the upcoming
CrossFit Games.

John marched downstairs, slamming open the door into the gym that was
Brittany's sacred space. His daughter was hanging from the bar, kipping her
way through pullups. "29..." she grunted, powering up through the motion.

"Brittany Allen Stevens," John bellowed, "We need to talk."

"I'm right in the middle of my set, Dad."

"Now, young lady." He folded his arms across his chest and looked on sternly
as she dropped to the floor, grabbed a towel, and turned to him. She was
dressed in her usual uniform - impossibly tight booty shorts and a sports bra.
Beads of sweat rolled over her chest, running in gentle rivulets down her
six-pack abs. He hated that she dressed like this. Though it was standard for
CrossFitters, seeing his teenage daughter exposing this much skin always made
him uncomfortable. "I just got a call from Mrs. Preston. She told me you were
in a fight today. That's the third one this year!"

She grabbed her water bottle, her large bicep peaking as she squeezed it into
her mouth. "What, that thing with Dave Drake? Honestly, it wasn't much of a
fight. I kicked his ass," she said with a wry smile.

"This isn't a joke, Brittany. You broke his nose."

"He's lucky that's all I broke. He asked me out last week, and when I shot him
down he started going around saying I look like a man." She paused, locking
eyes with her father. "I don't look like a man, do I daddy?"

John looked over his teen daughter. She was a statuesque 5'7". Blonde hair
cascaded over her shoulders, framing her soft features - big, blue eyes, plump
lips, and apple cheeks that betrayed her youth. She had "blossomed" earlier
than most girls her age, and despite being extremely lean she had proud, ample
breasts. Her thick, powerful core flared into wide hips, which in turn
exploded into thighs that, even at rest, looked like they'd been chiseled from
granite. "N-no," he half stammered. "You don't look like a man."

"I don't think so either, but I still had to show that asshole that I'm more
man than he is."

"Well now you're suspended for the next two weeks. And Mrs. Preston says if
you get in trouble one more time, you'll be expelled."

"Oh well." she shrugged.

"That's all you have to say? 'Oh well.'" John's anger was rising now. "You're
grounded, indefinitely. For the next two weeks you'll stay in your room and
finish the assignments Mrs. Preston sent over. After your suspension, you go
to school and soccer practice and then straight home. No parties, no TV, no
internet, and no gym."

Emma's blood boiled as she stared down her father, but as she looked him over,
her mood shifted. By the time she spoke she was calm and confident. "Am I
grounded?"

"What?" John spat back, incensed.

"What if I decide I'm not grounded? Why do I need to listen to you anyway?"

"Because I'm your father, dammit! This is my home. Now get upstairs before I
make you."

"Make me?" she scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. Dave Drake plays football.
He's 6'2" and works out all the time, and I beat the hell out of him. You
think you can do better?"

John stepped close to his daughter now, his rage on the verge of boiling over.
She was a physical specimen, to be sure, but he still had two inches and 20
pounds on her. "You are my daughter and this is my house. You will do as I
say," he commanded as she stood, impassive. This is your last chance
Brittany."

"What are you gonna do, Daddy?"

SMACK! John's rage exploded and he stung his daughter's cheek viciously with
his open palm. "Get. Up. Stairs." he seethed.

Brittany nursed her cheek as she looked up at her father, fire burning in her
eyes. "Remember, you asked for this." Swiftly she swung a left uppercut into
his gut, doubling him over, before bringing her right viciously down onto his
face. He collapsed to his knees, a light trickle of blood flowing from the
corner of his mouth.

"What are you..." John was cut off as his daughter bowled him over, forcing
him onto his back and straddling his chest, pinning his arms. "Get off of me,
Brittany."

"Make me." She held firm for a moment as John thrashed beneath her, but a hard
buck of his hips sent her tumbling off of him.

"Brittany, stop this before someone gets hurt," he implored as they both
climbed to their feet.

"The only one getting hurt is you, old man. I'm tired of your bullshit." She
made the first move, feinting left before punishing him with two hard shots to
his flabby torso. John winced in pain, but stayed upright.

"I'm not going to fight you, Brittany."

"Then you're going to get get your ass kicked." Again she stepped in and
hammered his stomach twice more. John realized he had no choice now.
Cautiously, he shuffled around his daughter, looking for an opening. Sensing
his opportunity, he swung, but instinctively he pulled his punch just before
he connected with her cheek. Barely phased, she stood her ground. "You can do
better than that, can't you Daddy?"

Again they circled each other, but this time when John swung, Brittany was
ready. She ducked and sidestepped him with ease, grabbing his back and pulling
him down as she drove her knee furiously up into his torso. He collapsed in a
heap, racked with pain. Breathing heavily, he labored to his feet.

"Have you had enough? You can end this right now - just walk upstairs and make
me dinner," she sneered, bouncing on the balls of her feet in readiness for
the next foray. John was already exhausted, and he realized that his daughter
had barely begun to tap into her seemingly boundless energy.

John realized he was scared now, but pride is a motherfucker. Summoning all of
his strength, he charged, grabbing her wrists and driving her four or five
steps backwards. For a moment, it felt like they might topple to the ground,
but she planted her back leg, bracing herself against his assault. For a
moment they stood in stasis, each matching the other's power, but as John's
waned, Brittany's only grew. Slowly she began to force him backwards. Then,
with impossible ease, she pulled her arms free of his grasp and gave him a
hard shove. This time, she did not wait for him to ready himself, jumping in
and clobbering his face, sending him spinning.

Without hesitation she turned and barreled into him, forcing him forward and
pinning him face-first against the wall. With ruthless efficiency she stepped
back and pummeled his kidneys with four quick blows, leaving him coughing for
air. He stumbled back a half-step and, before he could brace himself she laced
her fingers through his hair, gripping the back of his head, and smashed his
face into the wall. There was a sickening, wet crack as his nose shattered. He
wailed in pain, but she pulled his head back and slammed it home again. Over
and over, she slammed his head until it had busted through the drywall and his
cries had grown pathetically weak.

When she was satisfied he had been rendered helpless, she allowed him to slump
to the floor, and climbed onto his back, locking her arms and legs around him
in a brutal chokehold. She squeezed the last of his strength from him,
bringing him to the brink of consciousness. When she was sure he could offer
no more resistance she released him, flipped him onto his back, and straddled
him again, pinning his arms between her knees. She looked down at his mangled,
bloodied face and smiled. "P-please," he cried, blood and spit bubbling from
his mouth. "No more. I give up."

"You had your chance to give up. Fucking sissy. No wonder mom left your bitch
ass." She began to rain down blows on his face, knocking him from side to side
until he lay motionless beneath her. Standing to admire her handiwork, she saw
the unmistakable tent in his shorts. "You fucking pervert. Are you getting off
on this?" John could only moan in response. As Brittany felt the wetness
spreading across her shorts, she realized that she was enjoying this too.

Squatting over her stricken father, she lowered herself onto his face,
swallowing it under her thick, toned ass. She began to rock against him,
slowly at first. Feeling his muffled screams as each stroke of her slick pussy
further mangled his broken nose, she felt a new rush of pleasure. Reaching up,
she pulled down her sports bra, letting her firm breasts hang free. She
pinched her hard nipples and quickened her pace. Soon, she was bucking wildly,
riding his face faster and faster, propelling herself towards climax. As the
surge of pleasure overwhelmed her, she tightened her powerful thighs
reflexively around his head. With a deep, guttural moan, she came hard. Her
whole body shaking, she fell from her perch atop him and rolled to her back,
letting the rush of pleasure consume her.

When, at last, her spasms ceased, she looked over at her father's motionless
form. For a brief moment she wondered if he was dead. She was relieved when, a
few seconds later, he seized and then sputtered out a labored breath.

For a moment she lay beside him, breathing deeply. The air felt new and crisp.
Nothing would be the same now. Climbing to her feet and pulling her bra, she
kicked him in the ribs. "Get up," she commanded. With incredible effort he
rose to all fours, and she knelt beside him, grabbing him by the hair and
raising his tear-streaked eyes to meet her own. "From now on, I'm in charge.
You will do what I say, when I say it. And if you don't I will destroy you."
She released him and he hung his head meekly. "Now, get yourself cleaned up
and then make me dinner. And when you're done with that, you can do my
homework."

For a moment he was still. "Go," she shouted with a firm kick to his ass "I
have a workout to finish." She jumped back on the bar, watching him scurry up
the stairs on all fours as she resumed her reps. "30...31...32..."