Disciplinary Rape – 3

Vir originally planned to bash the life out of his wife for burning dinner, but he turns to his dad for advice. Dad reveals a tale from the past.

A little recap – I raped my wife because essentially, I lost a video game because of her. She left our son with me, he got cranky, I got disturbed, blah blah blah. It was her fault and she got what was coming. Even after it was settled though, she went ahead and burned dinner. She was really trying to test me.

Instinctively, I got up from the sofa, dragged her by the hair back to the living room, and backslapped her so hard she collapsed.

Honestly, I was relieved. Because honestly… (and this is not a whine), I was tired. I admit, it’s really pleasurable to put a woman in her place. Show her what it means to disobey, disrespect, dishonor a man. But I was getting mentally exhausted by having to correct her over and over again. Either my methods were too strict (and hence, not having the desired results of compliance), or she was just too fucking incompetent and couldn’t be tamed to my tastes.

I needed my dad’s advice. I picked up my son and walked down to his floor.

Dad’s room was noisy again. I knew what he was doing inside. Normally I wouldn’t disturb him, but I needed to talk to him. I barged in without knocking and put my baby on the bed.

There was mom, her mouth stretched out from dad’s huge dick being forced inside her.

“Vir?” My dad turned, shocked.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but we need to talk.”

I supposed Dad figured something was wrong. He pulled mom off his dick and tossed her aside. She breathed a sigh of relief. But his angry face implied that he wanted to discuss this interruption first.

“What the fuck could’ve possibly happened that you couldn’t wait till I came out?”

“Dad, calm down. I have always known what you were doing inside.”

“So what? You’re just gonna walk inside and watch? What’s next? You’re gonna discipline your mom too?”

What the fuck was dad focusing on? He made the conversation all about me walking in. I was getting a little mad.

“You know what? Why the fuck not? Why don’t I discipline her too?”

I walked over to mom and shoved three of my fingers in her pussy in one thrust. I shoved them violently around for a minute or so while asking my dad, “What are you gonna do now? Stop me?”

He gave me a weak smile. “No, son. This was bound to happen one or the other day. Mothers may give birth to their sons, but at the end of the day, they are women too. When the son grows up, the mother becomes his responsibility as well. I’m not gonna tell you to stop.”

He caressed my cheek with his hand. That relaxed me a little. I stopped shoving. I just let my fingers stay inside her as I stared into my dad’s eyes.

“Come on, son. Let’s talk about what’s bothering you.”

* * *

Dad and I sat in his den. Dad hadn’t bothered to dress up – it was the first time I was seeing him sit naked in front of me. He’d seen me naked hundreds of times as I abused my sister and my wife publicly around the house, but today I got to see him.

Then Mom came by with our scotches – her tits still swinging out. Dad had instructed her to stay naked for a while. When she bent down to serve him, he grabbed one of her tits and bit on the nipple real hard. He kept at it for a while, as she yelped in pain, but he soon left her with a grin. I imitated my dad when she came to serve me.

After a minute or so of just sipping our drinks, he barked, “Come on, boy. Spit it out. Don’t just stay gawking at my cock.”

I wasn’t gawking. He was just teasing me. Don’t get me wrong – it was a majestic cock (I mean, I inherited it), but I wanted to talk about my wife.

“I don’t think my marriage is working,” I started slowly. “She’s out here making mistakes every 30 minutes, dad! I can’t keep punishing her. I’m getting tired.”

“So, what, you want me to contribute? Son, I can barely handle your mother,” he reasoned. “Just wait for your son to grow up. Maybe he’ll be quicker to get back at his mother than you did,” he sneered.

“Dad please. I’m not joking. I’m not sure I can continue like this. I’m unhappy. I don’t feel guilty about having to do what I do. I know it’s my responsibility to keep her in line.”

He listened, intently.

“I’m just pissed that I have to do it so often, you know? She just doesn’t learn.”

I swirled the alcohol in my glass. “Maybe I’m being too harsh. Is it nitpicking? Maybe I don’t need to punish her for everything she ruins. Right?”

Dad was aghast. His eyes conveyed his disapproval.

“Absolutely wrong.”

He was silent for a while. I was expecting a longer response, so I was getting jittery. What was he gonna say?

“You can’t let anything pass. You can’t just shrug her mistakes off.”

“Look Dad, I have always been with you on this. But don’t you think sometimes I go a little overboard? I’m far more brutal compared to you. Maybe that’s why my punishments have lost their meaning.”

He stayed silent again.

“Trust me, Vir, you are not as brutal as you think you are.”

“Really? Because about an hour ago, I totally wrecked my wife because I lost a stupid video game.”

He had a poker face on. “So what?”

Now I was taken aback. Surely this was a little much, my brain rationalized. Why wasn’t my dad showing a reaction? Pride, admiration, concern – but nothing. He was pretending as if this was the most normal thing ever.

“Child, you’re worrying about nothing. Firstly, you’re not too brutal, and secondly, your quote-unquote brutality is not why your wife is a moron.”

He got closer to me and patted my thigh.

“Let me tell you about a man who was 10 times more brutal than the both of us combined. His wife misbehaved till the day she died. She kept being an idiot, he kept punishing her. It’s just how it works.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“My grandfather, that is, your great grandfather.”

“Well, how brutal was he?”

“I’ll give you an example from back in 1945. Back then, children were born in the house with the help of a midwife – not in the hospital. The mother going in labor would naturally shriek and yell and groan in pain. Son, you know how much we dislike women being noisy – no matter how much pain they’re in.”

Fuck. I could predict where this was going. Did my great grandfather punish my great grandmother for… giving birth to a baby?

Dad continued. “You think you’re too brutal – you’ve no idea how brutal your ancestors have been. I think you know where I’m going with this. Do you want to know the details?”

I nodded my head excitedly.

“Your great grandfather sat with a belt inside the delivery room next to the midwife. Every time his wife would even groan, he would whip her hard on her body – being careful to avoid her stomach, obviously. The midwife begged and pleaded for him to stop, but he’d give her a slap too. He kept repeating ‘Women of our house don’t scream’. No matter how much pain she was in, he kept beating her till she quieted down and just focused on pushing the baby out.”

Damn. This was way more brutal than I ever could imagine to be. In fact during my wife’s delivery, I held her hand and comforted her.

My dad’s story wasn’t over, however. “He didn’t even waste a second after the baby came out to enter her. Pushed everything aside, took off his pajamas, and went inside balls deep. Of course, she was way too loose for him since she’d just pushed a baby out – so she got bashed more on the face as he fucked her. But son, the moral of the story is, she stopped complaining.”

* * *

Dad’s story was quite insightful, really. My punishments weren’t “too brutal”, they were barely brutal. I needed to do more, not less. I needed to terrify my wife into total submission – so that even the slightest hope of gaining power doesn’t seep into her head.

With this thought, I proceeded up to my floor with two of my gaming friends who I’d called over. All three of us were carrying something – a belt, a wooden stick, a tennis racket. My son was left in my mother’s care. I have a feeling that my wife would begin behaving soon.

* * *

Doubt if I’ll do a Part 4. I need fresh ideas. Comment below.

PS. Yes I know some people think “I should kill myself”. You don’t need to spam that shit here. Go to a nicer website and read vanilla porn. My fellow pervs, I know you love me. I’ll keep writing – just give me some ideas to start on.

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