Page 64 of Comfort Me, Daddy

“Logan, I’veseenthe mean parts of you. They don’t scare me, and they don’t shock me. This was going to happen. There’s a lot of bad stuff in there that needs to get out. You have a lot of things to be mad about. That’s alright. We just need to work on getting it out a different way. I know you try hard to behave. And most of the time you do a really good job. But sometimes you make a mistake and that’s why you need someone to look out for you and pay attention to how you’re acting. And remind you to behave better when you’re being naughty. No more throwing things. No more kicking things and being mean. I know you can act better than that.”

I nodded. Icouldact better than that, and maybe he was just churning out soothing nonsense the way you did to a baby or a wild animal to calm them down, but it made me feel better anyway, like maybe he did know that wasn’t who I really was, that the storm in my head just blotted out all my good decisions sometimes. “I can. I will.”

“Do you want to talk to me about what you were feeling when I came home? What made you so upset?”

I swallowed hard and shook my head. It was like standing in front of class knowing the answer was somewhere in my brain, but not being able to access it while everyone was fucking watching and waiting. Didn’t matter that it was just us in the low light in the bedroom, still felt like there was an audience and a spotlight and a million ways to get it wrong. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, we’re gonna find out another way then.” That was definitely a threat, but for some sick reason I liked his threats, they warmed me up inside and made me feel wanted, and that was exactly how I wanted to feel right now.

“How?”

“I want you to go bring me one of those shoes, that’s how.” His voice rumbled low and deep, and somehow I’d already forgotten that he had a whole other baritone when he locked into Daddy mode, while I just slipped into a whiny whisper when he took me down.

I looked across the room at my shoes, one lying on its side in front of the laundry hamper and the other a few feet away, both looking dazed after they’d bounced off their targets and crashed on the floor. I stood up and took a step, hesitated, and then looked back at him to make sure I’d gotten it right.

He nodded and I grabbed one of my ancient ass sneakers, the one with the lace that had rotted in half that was knotted up through the center, and then immediately wished I’d picked the other one, but the toe was peeling off it. I didn’t exactly want him taking a closer look at either one, although he’d probably already checked them out since my shitty sneaks seemed like one of his turn ons.

I held it out to him, and he took it in his hand, crunching it in his fist, and then slapping the sole against his other palm. I jumped and so did my dick, what he was planning to do suddenly so fucking obvious, and my body so instantly excited by it I was dizzy.

He put the shoe down beside him on the bed— kind of funny since getting them off the bed was why I’d taken them off in the first place— and looked up at me, grabbing me by the belt loops and tugging me in between his legs. It was one of my favorite places to be, no lie, but still so new it made me nauseous alongside the excitement and the calm, and I swear to god being daddied was a goddamn carnival ride in my gut.

“Are you going to spank me with that?” I asked him, looking over at my sneaker.

“If you tell me you’re green, then yes I am.”

“It’s dirty,” I pointed out. “It has germs on it.”

I’d take the germs, just like I would have eaten apples off the floor, because I fucking deserved it. What I didn’t want was him getting fucking grass and mud and whatever else all over the new shorts he’d bought me. Like I might actually cry if that was part of my punishment.

His stern face cracked a little, and I saw part of a smile as he moved one hand to the outside of my thigh and squeezed. “I won’t get you dirty. Your pants aren’t coming down yet. When they do, I’m going to spank you with my hand. How does that sound?”

Sounded like a trick question was what it sounded like, because I sure wasn’t saying it sounded good. Sounded like a hell of a lot of spanking.

“Green,” was what I actually said though, because my asshole mouth suddenly didn’t have shit to say, it was just going to shout from the sidelines I guess while I tried being good again. Too little, too late like just about everything else I did, but worth a try probably since The Beast always seemed to give extra credit for trying.

“You sure?” he asked me gently. “If it bothers you I won’t do it.”

“It doesn’t bother me. It’s…”Hotwas definitely not the appropriate word to use, even if it was accurate. “Fine,” I finished. “It’s fine. I’m just being a brat.”

“Well, you’re allowed to be a brat,” he told me, tapping me on the hip. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. But we’re gonna talk about some things you’re not allowed to do, so bend yourself over, little boy.”

I couldn’t quite block thatloveword from getting into my head, and it hurt like my brain was trying to stab it to death. People didn’t say that word to me. Not sober, not seriously, but he just kept saying it every goddamn day like he was trying to force it into my vocabulary.

That was something to obsess over later though, because the rest of that sentence was what was taking up most of my brainpower.

I was really, really into bending over his lap, so much so that it was awkward going because my dick was pretty much ignoring every aspect of this except the part where I was about to get my ass beat, and that made it tough to not squash myself. But I bent forward, and as soon as I got close enough, he was plenty happy to help me, wrapping his arm over my back and hauling me up over his knee like I didn’t weigh anything. God, he was strong.

I wriggled around, trying to get comfortable, gripping the blanket, pressing my toes into the floor and rocking across his thigh, whimpering. It felt so good, the way he manhandled me, locking his arm tight across me and pulling me close, rubbing his hand over the ass of my jeans. I didn’t even mind that my dick was absolutely smashed and the more he touched me the harder I got.

“Someone really wants a spanking from his Daddy,” he said quietly, almost teasing, but not quite, which was a lot more embarrassing. “Been wanting one all day I think, and maybe things got a little out of control.”

I chewed at my lip and thought about that. He wasn’t wrong, probably. I’d been a dick since study hall, hadn’t texted him back after practice, turned into a real mess once I got home. Getting spanked would have made me feel better at pretty much any point. Not exactly a Sherlock Holmes operation, but yeah, I’d confess to that. It wasn’t really a question though, so I just grunted into the sheets and squirmed a little more.

“You did a lot of things today that were naughty. Some you did on purpose, and then I think it got a little twisted up and you took it too far. Because you were angry. And tired. And maybe a little scared. But everybody makes bad decisions sometimes when they’re not feeling their best. Then you get upset with yourself and you feel guilty and that’s frustrating.”

I really needed him to move on from the patient, understanding stuff, and do it fast before I started crying without a sore ass to blame it on. I had a hard time believing anyone ever really got treated this way when they were in trouble, which made this feel more like a game, but my guilt was definitely real. I nodded, but I still didn’t have anything to say. He talked enough for both of us, though. Funny since he was so quiet everywhere else.

“When you’re feeling bad inside, I want you to tell me. If you want a spanking, I want you to tell me. Getting spanked isn’t just a punishment, and it isn’t just for… fun. If you need to be settled down when you’re feeling jumpy or straightened out when you’re tangled up, I will find somewhere to take care of you and give you what you need.”

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