Page 16 of Chance's Choice
He pats his thigh, and I drape myself over his lap as though it’s second nature to me.
I guess it kind of is. I’ve done this countless times over the last twenty years, and I’ve never been ashamed of that, but it’s never felt as right as this does.
Chanceis about to spank me.
Chance. My former best friend. My former teenage crush. The man whose heart I accidentally broke and never forgave myself. I hadn’t even realized how badly I’d hurt him, either. Even if he moved on and I didn’t, I still did a number on him. I need this punishment more than I can properly express.
I’m over his lap only minutes after telling him that I want him as my boyfriend and my Daddy, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and still so surreal.
Is this a dream? If it is, clichéd as it sounds, I don’t want to wake up.
Chance shifts his weight under me, making sure I’m settled comfortable across his thick thighs, his legs spread wide with feet planted firmly on my lush gray carpet for stability. As Chance’s hand rubs my ass cheeks, my naked cock twitches where it is pressed against the fabric of his suit pants. But this isn’t about sex. Not tonight, anyway.
I brace myself for the first slap, but Chance -Daddy,I remind myself, feeling my throat tighten with unexpected emotion- smooths a hand down my spine. “Relax, baby,” he says gently. “I’ve got you. And when I say we’re done with this, that’s it. You’re gonna stop beating yourself up for what happened between two dumb, hurting kids. Okay?”
I nod.
“I need your verbal acknowledgment, Kaden.”
“Yes.”
That earns me a light swat to my backside. “Yeswhat, Kade?”
It takes me a moment longer than it should to understand. The tightness in my throat returns, but I manage it. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy,” he says, and I don’t think I’m imagining the sudden gruffness in his voice. Then, almost like an afterthought, Chance clears his throat and confirms, “Traffic light system for safe wording?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
His hand strokes down my spine again, then rubs at my left butt cheek and then my right.
Then the first smack finally lands and I jolt in his lap, simultaneously relishing and lamenting the sting. My hands clutch at his thigh, and I tuck my chin towards my chest as the next slap sounds out in the quiet of my bedroom, accompanied by another sharp throb.
The next few smacks pack the same sort of wallop, and I can feel my ass burning as Chance starts to rain them down on my bare skin, never quite landing his palm in the same spot, but managing to catch skin that was already stinging painfully.
Neither one of us are counting, and the pain is starting to make me feel exposed and raw, but I’m holding on to my tears, not yet ready to let go.
“You’re taking this so well, baby,” Chance says after delivering another firm swat to my throbbing rear. “But it’s time to start forgiving yourself. I,” he says, punctuating the word with another slap, “forgive,” another, “you.”
On the final smack, I break.
Already feeling vulnerable, I don’t know if it’s the additional pain or the perfectly timed words that do me in, but I start to cry. At first, it’s quiet whimpers and tears trickling down my cheeks, until Chance starts murmuring again.
“That’s it, Kade. Let it out.” He spanks me some more, lighter this time, but my cheeks feel so tender that even light touches hurt now. “You’re being such a good boy for Daddy.”
My whimpers morph into sobs now: deep, heaving, ugly sounds that seem to be pulled straight from my belly. The tears are no longer trickles but streams, and I can feel snot dripping from my nose.
Chance is still talking. “Just a few more, then I need you to let go of your guilt once and for all.”
“I’m sorry,” I howl and clutch even harder at his leg. I press my face into his pants, making a mess of the black fabric, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“I know, baby,” he soothes, lands three more smacks, then strokes my shaking back. “Good boy. It’s over. All is forgiven.”
I’m still bawling as he maneuvers me up and cuddles me close. I’m still apologizing and shaking and letting out years of pent-up guilt and grief. I lose track of what I’m saying, letting my mouth run until I’ve lost steam.
Chance holds me through it all, rocking me in his lap, uncaring of the tears and snot seeping into the shoulder of his shirt. His hands never stop moving over my back and my hair, and it’s only once I’m heaving in shaky breaths to properly calm myself that I realize he’s nuzzling his cheek against the top of my head.
I feel woozy once the emotion fades away. Exhausted and drained. But…light. Liberated.
