Page 11 of A Stable Daddy

My palm connects with his rosy cheek, and he jolts again. “I was careless,” he sobs, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s the spanking or the fact that he’s thinking about an upsetting topic which has pushed him over the edge, “I m-made stupid decisions—oh!”

He cries out as I smack him again.

“Not stupid,” I reprimand him firmly, rubbing over the spot I’ve just made sting. “I don’t like that word. Questionable, maybe. But not stupid. You’re human, darlin’.”

“M-Maddy would have been so disappointed.”

I don’t know who ‘Maddy’ is, but the past tense he just used tells me that they’re not in the picture anymore. I don’t pry. I do, however, deliver another slap to his other butt cheek, making him yelp and squirm. “Other people’s opinions aren’t important, Ryan. Only yours.”

Thatgets a reaction.

He clenches his eyes shut and his lower lip quivers. I can only see the outline of his profile, highlighted by the light filtering in through the window he’s facing, but a pain that I’m sure is more emotional than physical seems to have etched into his handsome features.

Tears roll down his cheeks, some continuing to slide down his neck, others dripping onto the sheets beneath him. He’s breathtakingly beautiful and also heartbreakingly sad like this.

“I am disappointed in myself,” he whispers, then he turns his face in my direction. His eyes glisten. “Please…please make it go away, Daddy.”

Fuck me.

My cock stirs from where it’s trapped beneath his chest, and I can do little else than nod and spank him again, and again, and again. He crumbles under my ministrations, letting go of his guilt and anguish, sobbing and babbling as my palm continues to mete out the discipline he begged for.

“That’s a good boy,” I praise him with genuine warmth. “Let it all out. Then it’s done, isn’t it? You’re taking this so well for Daddy.”

His writhing eventually changes pace, and I can tell when subspace begins to creep up on him, his panting turning almost sensual as his sobs switch to mewls and gasps of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he breathes, tear-swollen eyes fluttering shut, “Daddy, I’m so hard…”

I don’t need to tell him that he’s not the only one, because I’m sure he can feel how this is affecting me. Instead, I start to lessen the impact of my swats, knowing that they’ll still sting because of how tender his skin is now. “You can come any time, darlin’. I’ve got you. You’ve been such a good boy tonight. My good boy.”

“S-say it again,” he begs me. “C-call me your boy again.”

I ignore the squeezing in my chest, wishing that we had met at a different time and place. I’m moving to the other side of the country soon, and I’ve sworn off long-distance relationships. But for Ryan, I’d be tempted to break that new, self-imposed rule.

“You’re my good boy, Ryan.”For tonight, anyway.“All mine.”

“Fuck,” he repeats, shifting forward then back, clearly seeking friction against the mattress, “D-daddy…”

I rub his ass again, then land a series of four quick slaps over the heated globes.

That’s all it takes. Ryan gasps and shudders, his hips jerking. I feel droplets of his release reach my thigh, and my cock leaks as I think about the intensity of his orgasm. I want to roll him over,to lick up the mess he’s no doubt made of his abdomen and the sheets…but I don’t.

Instead, I watch his whole body go limp with relaxation. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed and unfocused. A dopey smile lifts one corner of his lips. He’s pliant and quiet now, and I decide we’re done with the scene.

Gently grazing my hand over his perfectly curved backside, I hiss in sympathy for the heat radiating from his skin. Sitting is going to be painful for a little while, and I hope he’s a stomach sleeper for the same reason.

“You did so well, darlin’,” I murmur, not wanting to invade the high he’s on. I’ve only had the pleasure of experiencing subspace once myself, during my training as a Dom, but I can recall the floaty, blissful feeling easily enough. It had been complete relaxation to the point of feeling like I’d left my body, almost like my soul was flying. I can understand why some subs become addicted to the sensation, chasing it wherever possible.

Coming down, though? That wasn’t pleasant.

Subdrop, for me, was a bitch. Master Brian, the man who trained me, told me it was a double-edged sword: it sucked that I crashed so badly, but it also gave me a better understanding of the importance of aftercare and treating my Subs properly. As if my caregiver tendencies didn’t already insist I do just that! Still, I understood his point, and the memories of the crippling depressive episode I felt back then echo in my soul, making me empathise with my Boys when they inevitably come down from subspace.

I let him float for a while, carding my fingers through the soft —now sweaty— hair on his head. My hotel room is high enough from the street that I can’t hear any traffic, aside from the occasional faint honk of a horn or blast of a siren. There’s no sound in the room apart from our breathing, and it’s nice. Peaceful.

The first sign of Ryan coming back to himself is a shuddering sigh, and I stroke his back to ease his transition out of subspace. “Hey, honey,” I smile down at him, aware that I need to get him cleaned up, and that his ass needs some lotion. It’s a good thing I carry aloe with me at all times. “How are you feelin’?”

“Wrecked,” he answers, smiling softly. “But in a good way.” He nibbles on his bottom lip. “Thank you for doing this. For everything tonight.”

“It was my pleasure, I promise.”

---