Page 42 of A Stable Daddy

“Sharon. Is that what ‘Shaz’ is short for? I’ll never get over the way you Australians shorten everything.”

“How is that any different to Oscar becoming Oz or Ozzy?”

I don’t have a rebuttal. “…Touché.”

With his lips twitching in the way that suggests he’s trying to hide his amusement, Ryan spears a chunk of chicken and lettuce with his fork, then holds his forkful of food over his container. Apropos of nothing, he says, “I really do appreciate you, you know. Not just bringing me lunch, but taking care of me in general. I know it’s a Daddy thing, but…I appreciate it.”

Oh, my heart.

“I know, darlin’. I know.”

* * *

“Oh, fuck,” Ryan curses while I bend him over the arm of the couch in his living room, after having checked earlier that his hips and knees can tolerate the strain of this position. (With his thighs braced against the plush curve of the white leather, he assured me he’d be fine.) “Daddy, please—Daddy!”

His cries echo off the walls around us as I push the remote-controlled vibrating plug into his greedy hole, stopping my cum from leaking out of him.

My Boy has been so good for me all week (which, given his submissive, people-pleasing nature wasn’t unexpected) and I’m in the middle of rewarding him with his most detested —and secretly craved— punishment.

Edging.

We took it a step further tonight, locking his perfect cock away in a cage before we even started, and it has been beyond satisfying watching him unravel.

I have reduced Ryan to a begging, sobbing, writhing mess, and I’m not planning on letting him come any time soon.

He whines when I step back and tell him to stand up.

I swat his ass, loving the way his flesh jiggles for the brief moment of impact, and he cries out again, rutting fruitlessly into the arm of the couch. Wearing the cage, he’s not going to find any relief, but I scold him anyway.

“Nuh-uh, darlin’. You don’t get to come until I say so.” To punctuate my point, I tap the flared base of the large plug, knowing that it will send bursts of stimulation to his prostate. He pants and whines at the sensation.

Walking around the three-seater couch, I drop onto the middle seat, patting the spot beside me. “Let’s watch some TV.”

He squirms but obeys, his posture stiff.

I lift my arm, beckoning, “Cuddle with me, baby.”

Listing sideways, he tucks himself into my side and I reach for the television remote, selecting something at random. We sit for a couple of minutes in silence and, once I feel that he’s relaxed, I pick up the other remote I placed on the side table earlier and press down on the button.

The buzz itself is muted beneath the dialogue from the TV show, and from being inside him, but Ryan jolts and yelps.

“Nnngghh…”The sound is half pleasure-half discomfort.

I rub his back and release the button.

When he starts to relax again, I press down on the button once more.

“Fuck!” he cries as his entire body jerks against mine. The cool metal of his chastity cage brushes my naked thigh. “I can’t…Daddy, I can’t…oh, God…Please…”

I release the button.

It takes a bit longer for him to settle this time, but as soon as I feel the tension leaving his shoulders, I set the vibrator off again.

“Daddy!” he sobs, turning his face into the crook of my neck, “Please!Please!”

I love seeing him like this. Babbling and straddling the lines between pleasure and pain. Desperate and uninhibited, showing me the ultimate vulnerability.

He rocks his caged cock against my thigh. “P-please. I need—I need to cum. I can’t…Fuck, oh fuck…help, Daddy…”

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