cruiscin_lan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-03-16 11:49 pm
cruiscin_lan) wrote2009-03-16 11:49 pm
Fic: Proper Punishment
Title: Proper Punishment
Characters: Bob/Elle, the Haitian
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 742
Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of Heroes or its characters
Spoilers/Warnings: Noncon, bondage, incest.
Summary: Bob goes to drastic lengths to punish his daughter.
A/N: Originally written for the YAHAKM.
His daughter had always been a naughty girl. As a child, she always had her hand in the cookie jar, sneaking sweets left and right - even to this day, she couldn't go anywhere without a Slush-O to suck on. Besides that, she was a terrible listener, and got into trouble like she liked it.
He'd been pushed to his limits as a father - spanking didn't work, nor did time-outs. He'd sent her to her room on far too many occasions, he'd tried taking away any priveleges and piling on more responsibilities, but she just wouldn't learn.
She was a young woman now, and just as naughty as when she'd been a child. He was running out of ways to punish her when he'd decided the best thing to do would be humiliating her.
He waited until the crime warranted the punishment; Peter Petrelli's escape was egregious enough that it justified carrying out such a drastic disciplining. When she returned from her failed attempt to recapture him, she hung her head in his office, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, as Bob berated her mercilessly. Still, she showed no remorse, and had nothing to say for herself except snide remarks.
"All right, young lady, I've had enough of your lip," Bob snapped.
"What are you going to do about it, Daddy?" she spat back, her tone dripping with venom.
Bob didn't hesitate; he was prepared for this, even looking forward to it. Underneath his desk he'd concealed a bucket of water earlier, and swiftly he reached underneath, grabbed it, and doused her with it. She shrieked; the water was cold, and her first response had been to spark. Her own electricity coursed across her body painfully, and she grit her teeth and choked back a scream of pain.
"You've been a very bad girl," her father reminded her. "And there's more where that came from if you don't do everything I say." She narrowed her eyes at him when he suggested he take off her soggy clothes. When she stripped to her underwear, Bob produced a pair of cuffs from one of his desk drawers and fastened her hands behind her back.
"What are you doing that for?" she asked sharply, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Bob didn't answer, but merely bent down to fasten the other set of cuffs around her ankles.
"It's about time you got your proper punishment, Elle," Bob told her, his voice level. "I'm tired of having to constantly correct you, only to see you make the same mistakes over and over again. I'm not going to clean up your messes anymore."
Elle winced at his words, flinched at his touch. "Get down," he commanded, and she dropped to her knees. He reached down and joined the two cuffs together, locking her arms behind her back and forcing her to remain kneeling.
"You're completely trapped, now," Bob mused. "Putty in my hands. But what should I make you do?"
"Please don't make me do anything," Elle begged.
"You've been so bad, Elle," Bob said, shaking his head. "I can't let you get away with it without being punished for it."
"Daddy," she pleaded. "Please, Daddy, don't do this!"
Her appeal only steeled Bob's determination, and he stood in front of her, already undoing the front of his pants. He grabbed a chunk of his daughter's hair, and she resisted being pressed into his crotch. Sparks shot up her tear-stained cheeks and tingled across the sensitive skin of his groin.
Before long, however, a knock interrupted him; it was a second knock that completely distracted him. Bob hadn't been expecting visitors, and in the back of his mind he knew that it must be something important if they were trying to reach him this late. "We're not finished here, Elle," he spat at his daughter, fastening his pants as he strode up to the doorway and opened it hastily.
The Haitian stood outside the doorway. He looked first to Elle, still tied and prostrate on the floor, and then back at Bob, who merely furrowed his eyebrows angrily at the interruption.
"Don't you dare say a -" Bob began, but he lost his train of thought when the Haitian placed his palm on his bald head. Elle would be next. Neither of them needed to remember this.
It was one of many instances where the Haitian wished that he could take his own memories away.
Characters: Bob/Elle, the Haitian
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 742
Disclaimer: I don't own any aspect of Heroes or its characters
Spoilers/Warnings: Noncon, bondage, incest.
Summary: Bob goes to drastic lengths to punish his daughter.
A/N: Originally written for the YAHAKM.
His daughter had always been a naughty girl. As a child, she always had her hand in the cookie jar, sneaking sweets left and right - even to this day, she couldn't go anywhere without a Slush-O to suck on. Besides that, she was a terrible listener, and got into trouble like she liked it.
He'd been pushed to his limits as a father - spanking didn't work, nor did time-outs. He'd sent her to her room on far too many occasions, he'd tried taking away any priveleges and piling on more responsibilities, but she just wouldn't learn.
She was a young woman now, and just as naughty as when she'd been a child. He was running out of ways to punish her when he'd decided the best thing to do would be humiliating her.
He waited until the crime warranted the punishment; Peter Petrelli's escape was egregious enough that it justified carrying out such a drastic disciplining. When she returned from her failed attempt to recapture him, she hung her head in his office, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, as Bob berated her mercilessly. Still, she showed no remorse, and had nothing to say for herself except snide remarks.
"All right, young lady, I've had enough of your lip," Bob snapped.
"What are you going to do about it, Daddy?" she spat back, her tone dripping with venom.
Bob didn't hesitate; he was prepared for this, even looking forward to it. Underneath his desk he'd concealed a bucket of water earlier, and swiftly he reached underneath, grabbed it, and doused her with it. She shrieked; the water was cold, and her first response had been to spark. Her own electricity coursed across her body painfully, and she grit her teeth and choked back a scream of pain.
"You've been a very bad girl," her father reminded her. "And there's more where that came from if you don't do everything I say." She narrowed her eyes at him when he suggested he take off her soggy clothes. When she stripped to her underwear, Bob produced a pair of cuffs from one of his desk drawers and fastened her hands behind her back.
"What are you doing that for?" she asked sharply, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. Bob didn't answer, but merely bent down to fasten the other set of cuffs around her ankles.
"It's about time you got your proper punishment, Elle," Bob told her, his voice level. "I'm tired of having to constantly correct you, only to see you make the same mistakes over and over again. I'm not going to clean up your messes anymore."
Elle winced at his words, flinched at his touch. "Get down," he commanded, and she dropped to her knees. He reached down and joined the two cuffs together, locking her arms behind her back and forcing her to remain kneeling.
"You're completely trapped, now," Bob mused. "Putty in my hands. But what should I make you do?"
"Please don't make me do anything," Elle begged.
"You've been so bad, Elle," Bob said, shaking his head. "I can't let you get away with it without being punished for it."
"Daddy," she pleaded. "Please, Daddy, don't do this!"
Her appeal only steeled Bob's determination, and he stood in front of her, already undoing the front of his pants. He grabbed a chunk of his daughter's hair, and she resisted being pressed into his crotch. Sparks shot up her tear-stained cheeks and tingled across the sensitive skin of his groin.
Before long, however, a knock interrupted him; it was a second knock that completely distracted him. Bob hadn't been expecting visitors, and in the back of his mind he knew that it must be something important if they were trying to reach him this late. "We're not finished here, Elle," he spat at his daughter, fastening his pants as he strode up to the doorway and opened it hastily.
The Haitian stood outside the doorway. He looked first to Elle, still tied and prostrate on the floor, and then back at Bob, who merely furrowed his eyebrows angrily at the interruption.
"Don't you dare say a -" Bob began, but he lost his train of thought when the Haitian placed his palm on his bald head. Elle would be next. Neither of them needed to remember this.
It was one of many instances where the Haitian wished that he could take his own memories away.