Page 6 of A Stable Daddy

I’m surprised when the room Oscar leads me into is the club’s Nursery room. Surprised, but not uncomfortable. Especially when he sits me on the plush two-seater couch and then gestures to the door. “Open or shut?” he asks me. “Your call, darlin’.”

Oh dear God, that accent.

As a kid, I used to watch spaghetti Westerns on TV, and I had a real fascination with American cowboys for a good portion of my youth. And even though the tattoos on this young man’s arms, hands, and neck don’t necessarily scream cowboy, everything else about him does.

So, suddenly, my old fascination is back.

I’m a city boy, born and raised in the suburbs of urban Australia. My accent isn’t as thick and ocker as those who live out bush, but it still feels clunky and decidedly unsexy next to Oscar’s. Or at least it does in my head.

“Closed, please,” I answer, and he gives me a smile so warm that it makes my stomach flip pleasantly.

“I do like a Boy with manners,” he teases as he shuts the door, and I snort.

“It’s been a long time since anyone called me a boy.”

Amusement lights up his eyes, which I finally notice are a golden kind of brown, like a well-aged whiskey, tiny gold highlights glinting in them when the yellow from the ceiling light hits them just right.

“Oh, honey,” he says, grinning and shaking his head, “a man can be a Boy at any age.” He gestures around the room and my answering smile slips a little as realisation dawns.

Oh.

“Oh,” I repeat my stellar thought out loud. Then I swallow and look around again, taking in the change table and crib with a whole new understanding. “You meant Boy. With a capital ‘b’.” I clasp my hands in my lap and fiddle with my fingers, suddenly nervous. “I’ve never…I mean, I’m not…Not that there’s anything wrong with…” I stop my rambling, closing my eyes to take a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not a Boy. Just a sub.”

“I know, darlin’.” That voice of his is so very seductive. It’s mellow and affectionate, but there’s that sense of authority belying it which I have never been able to pin down or replicate. He’s definitely a Dom, that’s for sure.

“But…you’re a Daddy?” The question tumbles from my lips before my brain to mouth filter can engage.

He nods, still wearing that gentle smile. “I am, yeah. But I’m also a Dom. I don’t need my subs to regress if that’s not somethin’ they enjoy. But,” he shrugs, and I watch the thin cotton of his black button-down shirt tighten around his biceps, “I don’t like bein’ called Master or Sir. It’s Daddy or bust, I’m afraid.”

A nervous giggle bubbles up from my stomach and I have to clear my throat to prevent it from escaping. “Y-you want me to call you Daddy?”

Oscar visibly startles at the question. “Oh! No. No, honey. I didn’t bring you in here for a scene. I’d never do that without proper negotiation first. I just wanted to get you somewhere quiet and private, and this room was empty when I checked by earlier. I get the feelin’ not too many people who visit this club are into this kind of play.”

I should feel relief at his answer, but instead I’m surprised to feel a bubble of disappointment lodge itself in my chest. I rub at it, blinking when my hand encounters my chest hair. I look down and remember that I’m shirtless beneath my borrowed jacket. A jacket which smells like him, all spicy and warm.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and I firm my lips, shaking my head, prepared to refute him. But he snorts and continues, “I mean, aside from the obvious. I can be a real idiot sometimes, I swear.”

“No, no, I’m…I’m okay,” I assure him. “I mean, I’m a bit shaken up, but you got there before anything could happen.” My throat works convulsively. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

I was genuinely terrified that nobody would hear me. That nobody would come to my rescue.

“Hey now,” Oscar inches closer, treating me like a flighty wild animal. He sits carefully on the mattress beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his embrace, closing my eyes and enjoying the smooth cadence of his accent. “I didn’t do anythin’ special. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“You stopped him from forcing me…” My whole body shudders. I was violated, had my safe-words ignored, and I was physically attacked…but I was rescued before my attacker could take things further, and I take solace in that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to press charges, darlin’?” There’s a hard edge to Oscar’s voice now, but I know it’s an anger directed at that other Dom and not at me.

I shake my head. “No, he didn’t—”

“He still assaulted you.” He keeps his tone gentle, and he gives me a little squeeze, which feels both apologetic and bracing. “I know you don’t want to hear it, Ryan, but what he didwasassault. And, before you try and tell me that it could have been worse, I want you to think about what kind of advice you’dgive a friend if they said someone did to them what that man did to you, okay?”

Well, damn it.

“I hate it when people use logic on me,” I grumble sulkily, but the corners of my lips pull upwards as he chuckles. Then I sigh and acknowledge, “If he’d pulled what he did on Jake or any of the other Subs, I’d tell them it was assault and that they should report it.” Tears clog my throat and blur my vision. “I…I feel so stupid.”

“No, baby, you’re not stupid.” His tone is firm. “This club is supposed to be a safe space. That sorry excuse for a man took advantage. He’s the stupid one, not you.”

“He’s probably long gone,” I shrug, still trying to blink away the tears.

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