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What I’m doing with Javier isn’t orchestrated. It has bled out into my life, to the point where I’m standing here trying not to think too hard about this latest disappointment by throwing my broken heart in Javier’s direction and trusting that he will catch it.
Without a word, Javier kneels down in front of me. I can’t breathe as his large hands make quick work of untying my shoelaces. He taps one ankle and I lift my foot obediently. I’m in a daze, and it’s only the taste of salt in the corner of my mouth that makes me aware of the silent tears tracing down my cheeks. After taking the shoe off and setting it aside, he repeats the action with the other foot.
Javier’s knee clicks when he rises to stand, and then he takes my hand in his and leads me over to the couch. Emotion rattles around in my chest, crowding my head, and leaving me a mess of unsettled feelings.
When he lowers himself to the couch, I wait, painfully unsure of what to do next. My eyes blur, the too much of it all hitting me like a kick to the ribs.
“Daddy,” the word comes out as a quiet whimper. I’m done, I’m so done, and I need, I need, I need…
“Come here,” he says, patting his lap, his voice firm, but not without warmth.
I rush to straddle his thighs, even as the tightness in my chest squeezes my lungs. My fingers find the buttons on his shirt, fiddling with the little wooden circles.
“Sireno,” Javier says softly. “I am going to tell you my plan, and then I want a traffic light color from you.”
It’s a relief that he’s not actually asking me to put my needs into words. Thank you, Daddy.
“First, I will take off your shorts, lay you over my lap, and spank you fifteen times.”
Yes. Please. I nod furiously.
“Color?”
“Green, Daddy.”
He leans in close, his breath warm on my lips. “When the spanking is done, we sit down together and we pick up the pieces. We make a plan together.” His thumb brushes over my cheek, and I lean into the comforting touch. “This is not the end, sireno. Not for you.”
It’s too much to look him in the eye, so I fall forward, pressing my nose into the side of his neck. I feel the kiss against the top of my head. “Up you go, boy.”
Reluctantly, I stand up. Javier quickly tugs my shorts down, leaving me in my socks, a black jock, and one of Daddy’s worn t-shirts that smells like his sweat.
At Daddy’s encouraging nod, I clumsily drape myself across his lap. My face presses to the cushion as strong hands maneuver my body into position. Nerves war with anticipation—I’ve done this before, but it feels different with Javier. He’s got all of me, laid out and bare, completely at his mercy.
Daddy is here. Daddy is going to make it all better.
I whimper at the first brush of fingertips over the tops of my thighs.
“Later, we are going to talk about this tattoo,” I hear him whisper, and can feel his touch on the spot where the silly Fresca can is inked on my skin. “But right now, I need your color.”
“Green.” My voice is muffled by the cushion.
“Green…?”
My face heats. “Green, Daddy.”
Soft fingertips trace up my crack, barely brushing over my hole. “Good boy,” Daddy says, his voice an authoritative growl that has my thighs clenching together.
The first spank lands on my left cheek with a dull thud. It’s not painful, not yet, but enough to send warmth spreading over my skin. Another follows, and my toes inadvertently curl.
Another, then another, the head building with each thwack of Daddy’s hand.
Yes, Daddy. More, please, harder, yes.
“You are doing so well,” Daddy rasps, voice rough. “Taking your spanking beautifully.”
I must have spoken out loud. Nothing makes sense, really, beyond the bright, blooming heat smarting on the surface of my skin. My head is hazy, and through the fog something slices through the last bit of control I was clinging to.
Tears flood my eyes, and I don’t try to keep them in.
