Page 66 of Comfort Me, Daddy

I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted that, or if I just liked the threat a lot, but my heart beat harder, a little nervous, a little excited, and I whined, pushing against the floor with my toes, raising my ass up for more.

Instead of swatting harder like I wanted, like I needed, he let my shoe rest against my ass again. For a minute he was quiet and then I heard it hit the floor as he dropped it beside the bed.

“Stand up,” he told me quietly, and I guess that answered my question. I pushed up off his lap, sweating and shaking and panting as I stood in front of him, and he looked up at me seriously. “Is this the kind of attention you need?”

I nodded without even thinking about it. I was turned on, yeah, my cock was a rager, but inside, things were getting quieter. Not so complicated. Not so dark. “Yes, Daddy.” Saying that helped too.

“Good. Unbutton your pants for me and push them down.”

It was hard with him watching, my hands shaking a little with exertion and adrenaline and nerves, I guess, and I pushed my jeans down to my knees and hesitated, not sure if he meant lose all my clothes, if maybe I was standing there bulging out my briefs like an idiot, getting it twisted.

“Good boy,” he told me, and my shoulders relaxed. “Now go stand in the corner.”

He nodded to a spot behind me, and I turned to look at the blatantly obvious space next to the clothes hamper. There definitely could have been a lamp or a desk or a pointless, expensive statue there, but it was empty like it was waiting for me to shuffle over and stand with my pants around my ankles.

Corner time was way hotter when you mostly just thought about it. Or did it in the library at school.

“Do I have to?”

“You know the answer to that. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I think you need some corner time to calm down and remember how you got into all this trouble so we can talk about it. And you need to work on your patience for me. And I…” He held up his palms to show me. “Need to go wash my hands before I take your pants down. So I don’t get any germs on you.”

He wasn’t even mocking me, even though he was gentle about it, and I glanced down at my filthy shoe and back at his hands that didn’t look dirty, but fuck it was actually so nice he’d even think about doing that that my eyes stung, and I nodded.

“Okay.”

He stood up and goddamn I hated him looming over me when I had my pants down like this, making me feel smaller and more embarrassed, and obviously when I said I hated it, I actually meant it made me feel good, but whatever. He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around, smacked me once on the ass to get me moving and make me realize how much damage that stupid shoe actually did, even over my jeans, and I dragged my ass along, letting him steer me into the corner while he left for the bathroom.

I stood there thinking about how he’d put me in the corner in my bedroom, how I’d thought it was a joke, some weird, gross, freak thing, how embarrassed I’d been when he called me out for getting off on it. It was basically impossible that that hadn’t been an entire lifetime ago because I was so fucking comfortable getting cornertimed in his cozy gray room staring at his cozy gray walls, I was definitely a different person now. But still a huge fucking mess.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It took a few minutes of me wonderingif he was coming back before he actually did, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing the way I liked.

“Come here,” he said softly, turning me around, and I stuffed my face into his shoulder, and he held onto me hard, keeping a hand tight around the back of my neck, making me feel more solid when I was feeling pretty blurry around the edges. “Daddy’s here,” he whispered, and I nodded, trying to press closer to him, trying to press into him,behim, because he just feltbetter.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I know you mean it and I’m glad you can say it, but it doesn’t change what happened and actions have consequences. Sometimes little boys need to be spanked. So let’s see if we can make you feel better.”

I did not like this walking with my pants around my ankles bullshit, but that didn’t seem like a battle I needed to fight at the moment, so I just followed him back over to the bed, more embarrassed with every shuffling step. By the time he sat back down and pulled me back across his lap, my dick was basically behaving, sick of being excited for nothing. But the rest of me was still humming with that not-quite-erotic spike of being daddied, so fucking glad it wasn’t over yet.

I waited for him to tug my shorts down, but instead he kept his palm cupped around my cheek, leaving me on edge in the quiet while I waited.

He brought his hand down in the center of my ass and I made a little gasping sound, not expecting it. It wasn’t hard, and neither was the next one or the next. They were solid and heavy, and covered every inch of me, bringing a whole fucking week’s worth of spankings back up to the surface like some hideous mixed drink you made from all the mostly empty bottles in the back of the cabinet. Maybe it was tough going down, but it still made your stomach warm, and this made all of me warm.

The soft, steady swats went on a long time, heat building up underneath my new shorts that it didn’t seem like he had any intention of pulling down, like he was breaking them in. I hated it at first, but after awhile, it seemed to add something to the embarrassment, and I started to like it.

For a minute it felt like I could step outside myself and see someone else— a boy that learned his lessons the right way, got love and attention and understanding, and stopped being a fuck up because he had someone in his corner to protect him, step in when he messed up. He wasn’t real, whoever that person was I might have been, but letting myself be daddied this way, it felt like he was for a little while.

When Caleb eventually stopped and let his hand rest on the back of my thigh, it was so quiet I almost missed the lecturing. “You know why I spank you over my knee like this?” he finally asked me.

“To watch my jock ass squirm,” I muttered, shifting around, impatient and embarrassed.

I thought I heard him laugh. “Yes. And also because this is the kind of punishment a little boy deserves, and that’s exactly what you are, like it or not. You grew up hard and fast and you had to shove all your little boy feelings in a box and lock them away so you could worry about bigger things. That’s not right, and it’s not fair, and it means when you misbehave now you might not even know why because you’ve been hiding all that hurt away so long you don’t know where it’s coming from. Spanking you like a little boy is a good way to open that box and see what’s making you misbehave.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” I spit out, and it was. But it also felt really, painfully true, like the big block keeping me from seeing what went full mental meltdown in my head was… me. Getting in my own way. Like always. Yeah, that tracked

“Still so angry, baby. Tell Daddy where all this temper’s coming from so we can work through it. What’s upsetting you so much?”

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