Kingston (a disciplinary story)

Can I Call You Dad

I knew he heard what I pleaded, but didn't stop. He countined to rock and hush me, like a little child, because thats how I was acting. My hucciping didn't slow down, but I felt safe. I grabbed his biceps and curled into his chest.

"I'm so-so-sorry da-daddy!" I repeated into his chest, tears flopping onto his shirt.

He kisses my head and keeps rocking back and forth. "Shh it's okay baby doll. It's over, it's all over. You're not gonna do that again, are you?" He asks, making me look at him. I shake my head no so fast, I almost fell. "N-no!" I promised.

I fall back into his chest and just sobbed.

Tyler's POV:

"I'm sorry daddy!" When those words came out of her mouth my heart finally mended in two, then broke again. She has slipped out Daddy Tyler, or Dad Tyler, or just Tyler, which is her go too, but never fully Daddy. Then she repeated it again, and I knew she meant it.

I didn't know if it was just because at this moment she was sorry, and had just finished getting her butt busted, but I knew it was real.

I have waited so long to get her into my life and she was finally here. She was broken, needed help and sturtcher and guidence, which I was giving her. I hope this is the last time I ever have to break out the belt on her bare ass again, but I don't doubt it wont be.

She is sixteen for Godsake.

But here she was, the tough girl act dropped, sixteen and curled into my chest and arms sobbing, rubbing her butt and holding my bicep. I take a glance at the mirror and study the image, and I almost see myself smile.

Not at the fact I had just punished her, or she was in trouble or crying, but because she finally accepted who was boss, I was serious, and I was here for good and that I loved her.

As I rocked her, I began to whisper a lullabye in her ear. I sooth her soft hair down and placed an arm under her butt. She yelps but calms down, and I go back to rocking and singing lallabyes.

After a moment, it's quiet, except for soft whimpering and my lullabyes. I push her hair back to reavel she had fallen asleep. I chuckle to myself and gently lie her on her bed and tuck her in, kissing her forehead.

As I turn to leave, I catch the laundry basket. I furr my eyes in confusion and cross my arms over my chest. I look around the rest of the room, it was pretty tidy, execpt a book on the floor, some wrappers on the dresser and floor, the small stuff. She had been keeping her room clean, which was of the rules.

She had been helping with the dishes, except some days she slacked off, which I ignored cause again, she was sixteen. The cursing died down a little, but I still caught wind of it every down and then.

But over all, in the week or so she's been here, she's made improvement. She still pushes buttons and has attitude but she hasn't had a tantrum since the homework deal, which reminds me, I should get her a tutor or something.

I leave the room, and the clothes but I figured I'd deal with it over her nap. I strut down the stairs, and my barefeet clank on the floor. When I get downstairs, I stop at the mirror in the hallway.

I study myself, my brown/black hair was messy, my golden brown eyes were tired and baggy, I wore a tanktop and my biceps and musles showed through, my calves were strong under my basketball shorts, and I was barefoot. I sighed, ran my strong hands through my hair and kept walking into the living room and plopped on the couch, turning on the TV.

Just so happened to have iCarly on the program. I sigh, turned the TV off and placed my head in my hands.

I finally got my daughter in my life, and I never exspected to feel this way after punishing her. I knew it would be hard, but it's fucking heartbreaking. But she needs to learn. Needs to learn that the world doesnt revolve around her. Needs to learn what is okay and whats not ok.