Page 4 of Chance's Choice
I’m not searching for a Daddy. Not a permanent one. I just need a scene partner. Someone to take the edge off and make the guilt go away, if only for a little while.
“Well, hi there,” a deliciously deep voice says, and I turn to find a middle-aged guy pushing himself to his feet from the couch to my right. He steps in a bit closer with a disarming smile. “Looking for someone -or something- in particular? Or just here to play?”
I give the guy a quick once over. He’s substantially taller than me, which isn’t exactly a feat when I tapped out at 5’7” when I was fifteen, with a handsome enough face, chiseled features set in flawless dark skin, and warm brown eyes. He’s solidly built, with his dark hair cut in a generic ‘short back and sides’ style, too. Despite his size, he looks friendly and gentle. I wonder if he’s even got it in him to dole out the punishment I need.
“I’m looking for a scene partner,” I tell him honestly, shifting on my feet. “I…” I cast my eyes downwards, exhaling as I try to shake out my big headspace and sink into one more appropriate for what I need. My lower lip juts out in a pout. “I’ve been naughty.”
Through lowered lashes, I look up to gauge this guy’s reaction. Realization sweeps over him, but he doesn’t shy away or recoil. “What do you need, boy?” he asks me calmly, suddenly more Daddy than he was a few seconds ago, too.
I appreciate that he’s asking and not just assuming. I could need anything from corner time to a paddling, and some Daddies would just leap in with their suggestions first. But not this guy. That seems to seal the deal in my head, deciding that this one will do. It’s just a scene, and we’ll have to negotiate limits and safe words before we do anything, but he’s already set me at ease and my gut says it’s not worth looking any further. Not for what I need tonight.
“A spanking,” I answer quietly, biting my lip for effect. I’m the picture of contrition and submission.
Did I mention I’m alittlemanipulative? It’s not entirely my fault, but I know my strengths and how to use them to my advantage. Years in sales will do that to a person.
This Daddy smiles softly and extends his hand. “I’m Emmett,” he says, and I take his hand and shake it. His palm is warm and dry, his hold firm but not too strong. He’s not trying to come off all macho and dominating, even though I’m sure he could if he wanted to.
“Kade,” I introduce myself.
“Well, Kade,” he says as he releases my hand, “I’d love to be your scene partner if you’ll allow me. Can I take care of you tonight?”
That cinches it. There’s no other answer than “Yes, Daddy.”
* * *
The spanking helps. I’m a sobbing, snotty, sweaty mess by the time we’re done. I can feel my ass burning and it helps ground me, making me feel like I’ve paid penance for my past transgressions. Emmett provides top tier aftercare, too. He rubs aloe vera lotion into my skin and holds me while I come back out of the foggy state a good spanking always puts me in.
“Did you want to talk about it?” he asks once it’s clear I’m myself again. He helps me pull up my pants while he waits for my answer.
I play dumb. “About what?”
My Daddy for the scene arches an eyebrow at me. “The reason you needed discipline tonight.” Before I can tell him it’s none of his damn business, he adds, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I know talking about it -especially after you’ve been punished- can help a person process their feelings faster.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather not. It’s nothing against you. I just…”
“Don’t open up to strangers about your personal issues?” He offers, smiling easily. “I get that.”
It turns out Emmett is a genuinely nice guy, and the fact that he gave me what I needed and never once turned it into anything sexual only cements my high opinion of him. If I was looking for a Daddy, he’d be a great option.
But I don’t want a Daddy. Especially not one as kind as this one. He’s going to make some boy incredibly lucky someday. Just not me. I don’t deserve a Daddy like him.
And now the guilt is creeping back. Great. That has to be a new record.
“Okay, so, I’m going to give you my card,” he says abruptly, pulling me out of my musings. He chuckles when he can see that I’m ready to protest and holds up his hand. “I work down at The Little Community Center as a counselor.” He cocks his head. “Have you heard of it?”
“No,” I frown. “Is that, like, some sort of social services kind of deal?”
“It’s a safe haven, specifically for members of the BDSM and kink community. Set up by a former cop, actually. There’s a sweet story behind it, but, essentially, it offers itself up as a safe space and alternative to coming here,” Emmett waves his hand around, indicating the club space, “for people who want to explore their kinks without the nightclub or intense sexual overtones. We also provide subsidized, kink-friendly counseling, assistance finding emergency housing, and host Q and A nights and other stuff.” He stands from the padded bench in the private room we had booked for our scene, and pulls his wallet from his hip pocket. After rummaging a bit, he hands a little white business card to me. “We’re doing a kink-themed fundraising auction and Open House next month if you’re interested in checking it out.”
Nodding, I look down at the rectangle of embossed cardboard in my hand and tell him, “I’ll think about it.”
Emmett doesn’t push the issue any further than that, and he crosses the room to put the bottle of lotion back into the cabinet it had come from. I thank him again for helping me out, and I’m surprised when he pulls me in for a hug.
Not many people hug me these days. That’s a sad realization to have.
“Just think about coming to The Center,” he murmurs as he releases me. “I think we’d be good for you, Kade.”
There’s a softness in his voice that calls to me. Even though I don’t feel as all like I deserve it, I long for it. Perhaps that’s ultimately why I clutch the business card tight in my fist until I’m back downstairs in the locker room, sliding it into my wallet and making a note to Google the place when I get home.
