Finding a Daddy - Part 5 With the closing of the archive rapidly approaching, I want to get the rest of the story of Brad and Tony's relationship posted. So, this part will cover a bit more territory than the previous four.
MEETING FOUR: After our third meeting, I thought it would be some time before I could see Brad again. His domestic and work situations didn't leave much free time, and my own cancer treatments would be starting soon. I knew from the last time I went through it, that the regimen of radiation five days a week, in addition to my day job, would make a very long day, and that I would get increasingly fatigued as the time went on, with weekends being spend recharging my batteries. So I resigned myself to an email relationship with Brad for the duration.
So, there was quite a bit of email that next week. We discussed our prospective Thanksgiving plans (the fourth Thursday in November in the US). Brad and his partner were going to do the traditional thing. My partner was entertaining out of towners, and I told Brad I was going to avoid that. He told me I should join them, because he couldn't see why I'd avoid it, as it sounded like fun. I told him that I simply wasn't go to go. I also proposed some revisions to the outline for the stories for MMSA Stories, but he firmly explained that the original plan was better, to which I acceded.
The weekend after our last session, I was scheduled to begin the radiation on a Sunday morning. The center was going to take a long Thanksgiving Holiday and close Thursday through Sunday. To make up for this, therapy was scheduled for the preceding Sunday. So, I hauled myself out of bed before dawn and had my treatment at 7:00 AM, then went home and, a real rarity for me, took a nap. It was a few minutes before 9:00 AM when I got up, and shortly after the phone rang.
It was Brad, saying he wanted to come over to see me, if I were free. I told him I was indeed. He said it would be a little while before he could get there. It was nearly 10 when I saw him drive up and get out of his car. He had a small bag in his hand, which piqued my curiosity.
We were in the kitchen, and he was making his usual drink, a Bloody Mary. I'd offered to do it, but he told me that "boys don't handle alcohol." But he did say, "I think you should have something to drink with me, but nonalcoholic."
I got some apple juice out of the fridge, and Brad produced a baby bottle from the bag. He filled it with the juice, watching my reaction out of the corner of his eye, then expertly tested it to be sure all was well. As I watched him, I wondered at his experience with baby bottles, as I had about his diapering expertise. Did this guy have a houseful of kids somewhere?
I couldn't speculate about that too long, for another object was produced from the bad, and it was a pacifier. "This is so I don't have to listen to your whining when you're standing in the corner," he said with a grin. "Now let's get you comfortable and we'll have a talk."
Brad walked into the dining room and pulled a chair away from the table. Though we were in a corner of the room, and away from the window, I was well aware that there were no shades on the window. I'm sure Brad was as well, but that didn't stop him, perhaps it impelled him, to strip me down to my jockeys.
"That's better. That's how my boy should be dressed when we're together."
Brad sat down and put me on his lap in our usual position. He put the bottle in my mouth and picked up his drink. When he told me to drink, I started sucking for all it was worth. Drinking from a baby bottle was a lot of work, especially when you know you must look ridiculous. I thought of how embarrassed I'd be if anyone saw me doing this. Not that I was embarrassed with Brad. I figured he got a charge out of this, so I would do it.
"You know, Tony, it would be nice to come over here and just hang out some morning with my boy, but that is never possible with you. It's only been a week since I had to come over here to spank you, and already you're racked up a list of things I have to spank you for. Do you have any idea of what I'm talking about?"
I shook my head no, not daring to take the bottle out of my mouth.
"Well for one, didn't I tell you to spend Thanksgiving with your partner? And what did you do? You told me you wouldn't do it. You didn't ask my permission not to do it, did you? Of course you didn't. You just decided to ignore my instructions. Is that the way you're supposed to behave?" Again, I indicated "no." Well, I don't believe in putting off deserved punishment. Stand up."
I jumped up, and Brad took the bottle out of my mouth and put it on the table. Then he pulled my Jockeys down and off, and over his knee I went. Right there in the dining room, I was over his lap with my bare butt topmost and getting smacked soundly.
"Any time you even think about disobeying me, I want you to think about this spanking. We're going to have a real spanking morning today, and every day you misbehave."
Brad spanked me soundly and rapidly for a good five minutes or so, so my tail was stinging and very warm when he told me to stand up. He put the pacifier in my mouth, saying "Don't you dare let this fall out." and sent me to the nearest corner.
"I want your nose in the corner and your butt out. Good. Now reach back and spread your cheeks. I want to see if you're keeping yourself clean."
I felt Brad very close to my ass, examining me closely and slowly.
"Not too bad, but you could do better. Now don't you move. I'll be right back."
I heard him go off to the bathroom, then running water. Brad returned and washed me with a washcloth, making sure he probed into my most intimate parts.
"Your skin looks a little dry, Tony. I'm going to have to find some lotion."
I wanted to tell him where to look, but I couldn't do that with the pacifier in my mouth. And I couldn't take out the pacifier without removing my hands from my ass. Doing either would have given Brand yet another reason for a spanking. But I should have know he'd remember where I'd retrieved the from before, for he was soon back, and my anus was getting a very thorough massage.
"That's better. Now we're going to the library."
Brad took me by the ear and led me to the library, where I had the straightback chair waiting. I was again seated on his lap for another of our talks.
"Tony, what did I tell you I wanted for the MMSA Stories stories."
"You said there should be four stories, a prologue and one each for our first three meetings."
"And what did you decide you wanted to do.'
"At first I thought I'd do it all in two longer stories, but you said to stick to the first idea."
"And did you ever ask my permission to make that change? I had to tell you a second time what to do. Is that how a good boy behaves? I don't think so. That's what a naughty boy does. And we both know what happens to naughty boys, don't we?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me."
"Naughty boys get spanked."
"That's right. And are you a naughty boy?"
"Yes, sir. I am a naughty boy."
"And what should I do about it."
"You should spank me sir."
"That's right. Now get over my knee."
So I found myself over Brad's knee for the second time, and he'd only been in my house less than 30 minutes. The second spanking was no more lenient than the first, and because my bottom was still tenderized from the first session, the effect was all the more severe. I was squirming now and promising to behave.
"Please dad, I won't do it again, I promise."
"You'd better not, boy. If you disobey me again I'm going to use my belt on you, then give you a spanking."
"Please don't do that, sir!"
"Then you'd better behave." SMACK SMACK SMACK. These last three swats were really hard. "Get up and into the corner."
I knew now the posture I was to assume. My nose had to be in the corner, but my feet had to be a couple feet away from the wall, so I was leaning in and displaying my butt to Brad's satisfaction. He sat there for a while looking at me, and commenting at what a sorry excuse I was for a boy, since I couldn't avoid a spanking for more than a couple days. He got up to make a drink and told me to hold still.
He returned in a few minutes and ordered me back over his knee. He'd moved the chair closer to the arm chair, so my upper body would be supported. I saw he'd retrieved a narrow wooden spatula from the kitchen. This didn't look good.
"Tony, I've talked to you before about your complacent attitude, and that you have to fight more. I'm going to spank you until you convince me you are a fighter. I want you to use ever trick you can to convince me you don't need this spanking, just like a boy would. I'm not going to stop until I'm convinced."
Then he began smacking with the spatula, fight up and down my butt and upper thighs, not neglecting the tender areas there the sun rarely shines. I was soon kicking and bucking, and trying to push myself off his lap.
"Come on, Dad, I'm too old for this... Guys my age don't get spankings... This is ridiculous, you can't spank me... What would your friends say if they knew you did this to me... This is against the law... This is assault... I told you I wouldn't do it again... I'm doing the best I can... I can't do any more...You've got to believe me... I'm sorry I did it... Please stop, it really hurts... Daddy, I've been spanked enough... I can't take any more..."
In a couple minutes I'd used every classic line and at the same time, gone from tough guy to whining boy, yet again. And I'd run out of things to say and was babbling.
"Tony, Tony. You just aren't a fighter. You can't do it," Brad said as he stopped spanking me and pulled me up onto his lap. "I don't know what Dad is going to do with you." I nestled my face into his shoulder. I wasn't crying openly this time, but I was sobbing softly and struggling to hold back my tears over the thought that I'd disappointed Dad again. But he was holding me and comforting me as only he could.
"I'm sorry Dad, I just can't do it."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"But I'm going to do better. But if I'm really good," I said with a smile in my voice, "that means you won't have to spank me."
"Tony," Brad said, pulling up my face so I was looking directly into his eyes," you will always give me a reason to spank you. That's because you are a boy, and basically a very naughty boy. Now I want my naughty boy on the bed so I can _f_u_c_k_ you. You really turn Daddy on."
The _s_e_x_ that morning was especially athletic, moving through several positions, including one where I was balancing only on my neck and shoulders, absorbing the full force of Brad's _s_e_x_ machine as he worked my butt like a piston. The aftermath was the combination of tenderness and openness that had come to mean so much to me.
"You know, Tony, the first two times we _f_u_c_k_ed, but now we're making love. Do you love me."
"Yes, Brad, I love you." I thought I'd never say this to anyone again. But it was the truth. I did love the guy.
"And I love you. I've got to be careful. I could get addicted to you."
"Well. I'm already an addict."
"You're it's obvious you're at least excessive. You should probably be spanked every day."
"At least, Dad. There are a couple stories in MMSA Stories of guys who get regular spanking, twice a day, one in the morning and one at bedtime. That would probably do me some good."
"Yeah, but the problem is that after Dad spanks you, he needs to _f_u_c_k_ you. And I think that might be too much, even for my Tony."
I wanted to say I was willing to take the chance, but didn't think it wise to push my luck. And I didn't really get a chance.
"I want to feel myself inside you again. I'm not going to _f_u_c_k_ you. I just want to feel you." Brad slipped in.' "You're amazing Tony, you butt is just a little pink, and your asshole is tight again. you do recover fast." After a couple minutes, Brad withdrew and said, "I guess I should spank you again before I leave."
"Whatever," I said, as I leaned forward to kiss him. Then moved my lips over his body.
"You're not going to get out of your spanking that easily."
"I wasn't trying to get out of a spanking," I said, sounding insulted that he could even suggest such a thing.
"Sure," was all he said as he pulled me across his lap and sat up. The spanking was short and sweet, but not a play spanking. Brad doesn't give play spankings.
Then he got up and dressed to leave. "I've only been here a little over an hour, but we accomplished quite a lot. Be good until next time."
"But not too good," I thought.
MEETING FIVE
A couple weeks went by before Brad had time to see me again, a couple weeks when I went through changes. The cancer treatments were going according to schedule, but were taking an emotional toll. We still weren't sure as to what the course of therapy would be, so there was always this feeling of indecision. And the thought that the cancer was still there, and that we might not be able to eradicate it with the radiation, lent an aura of futility to the whole process.
But I was mostly unaware of what was causing my problems. I did know that anything out of the ordinary threw me. Whereas I'd always been able to make decisions and take timely action, I was in a haze. A series of minor disasters around the house upset me. People didn't show up as planned, I spent a day waiting for repairmen who didn't show, despite repeated promises they were on the way. It was nothing more than the frustrations we all face, but I wasn't coping with them. And then there was the idea that Brad wasn't going to be available.
I found myself turning to him more and more in email, to the point I was sending daily updates about my woes. He said he "didn't mind getting all this email." I should have picked up on that. He used to say he "enjoyed" my email.
When Brad said he thought we could make a date, I was thrilled. But his suggestion that I produce a scenario for roll play, to make a change from what we had been doing threw me. I really did not want that at that point. I felt it was like a dad disowning his son. I greedily clung to what I wanted the relationship to be, what I felt I needed it to be in my emotional need. And that was a foolish mistake on my part. By not thinking of Brad's desires, I threw away the whole relationship. So, instead of the scenario he'd asked for, I sent a list of possible premises for a scene, none of which is what he wanted.
The last meeting isn't something I'm proud of. I can't describe it in my usual detail because it's too painful. I see it now as a series of blunders on my part, all due to my misconceptions. But I to want to give at least the outline. If nothing else, this may spare someone else from making the same mistake.
When Brad proposed we meet at his house on a Sunday afternoon, I had misgivings. I was concerned that it was too indiscreet of him to have me over. His partner was to know nothing of this relationship, and I was afraid a neighbor might see me and ask questions, etc. I should have trusted him.
But my biggest mistake was even considering keeping the date. That weekend was a series of frustrations to me, which I could have handled at any other time, but now at that point in my therapy. I see now that I in borderline depression. Actually I realized it a few days after out meeting, and the realization helped me climb out of it.
But I didn't cancel. I spent some of the morning following Brad's instructions and giving myself 3 enemas and a thorough scrubbing. He said he didn't "want any dirty boys at my house." That Sunday afternoon, Brad was at home babysitting an infant for some friends. It turns he's been minding babies since his teems, when his elder sister began producing offspring, and Brad was often the designated babysitter. When I got there, the kid was screaming, and Brad had his hands full quieting her. It all felt odd to me, my being there. I nearly suggested I should leave, should have suggested, but didn't.
I ended up naked in the kitchen, watching Brad feed the child, and eventually getting her to settle down. He told her he was going to "have to spank this naughty boy," and I liked the sound of that. But I didn't understand his references to all my behavior in my email. He said I'd sent rude email.
The whole scene was disconnected like that for me. We went through some of the usual routine, but I just wasn't relating to it. When he had me bend over for a belting, it just seemed terribly unfair to me. Didn't he know I was in a fragile state, that I couldn't handle all the scolding he was giving me. If anything, my ego needed boosting. It didn't need this. Even when he _f_u_c_k_ed me in that position, something he'd never done in the middle of a session, I wasn't getting into it. My emotional fog was cutting me off.
Of course he didn't know this, because I'd not told him. I should have broken the mood at that point and come clean with him. I didn't, and Brad tried everything he could to connect with me. I got a handspanking across his knee in the dining room. In the kitchen he sat on a higher stool, so I was completely off the ground, like a little kid, as he spanked me with a spatula. Under normal circumstances, either of these would have pushed me over the edge, but I wasn't normal at that point. He admonished me about not putting up a fight, but I simply told him I couldn't, it wasn't me. I don't know why he didn't just give up on me when he heard that.
He stood me in the corner in the front hall and left me there while he tended to the baby. He told me that it was obvious that spankings weren't getting through to me and he'd have to find another way to punish me. I was nearly in tears at that point, feeling a failure.
Brad then made me give him a blow job. I hadn't done that in years, and certainly not since my oral surgery, which deprived me of about 20% of my tongue and left heavy scarring. But that wasn't the whole problem. I've just never been very good at it. But Brad was fairly patient and gave good instruction. I thought I was doing my best, but it just got too much for me. I was nearly gagging, my jaw ached from the position, and the tumor on the side of my neck started to throb. I collapsed into racking sobs and tears at Brad's feet, wining "I just can't do it. I can't do it."
It must have been incomprehensible to him. Why I had collapsed. But I couldn't control myself enough to tell him that I wanted to satisfy him _s_e_x_ually, to give him something he wanted, and that I'd failed. But I couldn't form the words, and he said,
"I'm not going to comfort you, Tony. You can cry all you want."
He wasn't going to comfort me. He didn't love me. This is all I could think. I wasn't worth his time. I couldn't do anything right.
"Get up on your knees, keep your head down." I moved into this position, and Brad used his belt on my butt. I was beyond feeling much pain. I was beyond feeling.
The phone rang and Brad went to answer it. I heard his tone change as he spoke to the baby's mother, explaining she was asleep and recounting how he'd tended her. I was out of the picture, and forgotten.
I got up and dressed, and for the first time ever, I walked away from a scene. It was a short walk to the car, and my tears were mostly dry by the time I started my drive home. When I got there I wrote Brad a brief email, intending to assure him I was OK, just on the chance he cared. But my hurt feelings gained the upper hand and I wrote that it was obvious we were on different wavelengths and that I realized I needed to look to myself to find the emotional support I needed.
The next day, after a sleepless night thinking about all this, I wrote again, apologizing and saying I regretted the last email had an air of finality about it, because I didn't want to shut any doors.
But the reply I finally got from Brad left no doubt that the relationship was over for him. He said I was complex and that it had become too complicated trying to find things that pleased me. He said that I should have told him about the physical problems during the blow job and he would have stopped, asserting that he wasn't a monster. Of course I knew that very well. He also said that, when I'd come up with my lame scenarios, he decided to try spanking for "real" faults, as we'd done previously. He'd been working at making the scene a success for me, but I was too out of it to understand. All I could say in response was that I should have been more open, honest, and truthful, and that I intended to make some changes in my life once the cancer was taken care of.
That was a couple weeks ago, and I can't think of Brad without regretting things came to that point. And so many things remind me of Brad. Even though my emotional state is now stable, and the depression is history, I can't shake the though that I dropped the ball and pushed away something that was very good.
The list of "I should have" statements goes on and on, but here are some of the major things I learned.
I should have been more aware of my emotional state. I wasn't fit company for anyone, especially not in this context. And I was piling too much on Brad, without ever really finding out if that was acceptable. Looking back on our email, I see the guy's patience and generosity were awesome.
I should have been more honest and open. For all my whining, I never really did tell him what I was going through with the cancer treatment.
I should have had a better assessment of the relationship. I was taking things as real that weren't. I was looking for a Daddy who would nurture and correct. That's a lot to ask of any guy.
I should have told him from the start that all the "extras" we'd worked into our scenes were not essential. We could have dispensed with any of them. Hell, I'd have been thrilled with a straightforward spanking and _f_u_c_k_ing, if that were enough for him.
I should have told him what a _s_e_x_ual turn on he was for me, even the blow job, and how much I wanted to satisfy him.
I should have asked him what he wanted, and I should have tried harder to give him the one thing he did ask for. I was too selfish.
I should have stayed that Sunday afternoon, after I'd gotten dressed. We should have talked about all this. I should have taken the opportunity to tell him I would do anything to salvage a relationship with him, on whatever terms he wanted.
I should have thanked him for all he did give me in those few meetings, and the weeks in between via email.
But I didn't, and that's that. I don't think Brad is the kind of guy to pass over the same territory twice. I am complex, I guess. Too complex for this sort of thing.
And so the story is over. My spanking story is over.
I'm grateful to MMSA Stories for providing this forum for all of us for so long. It's been an immense labor on his part. I wish him every success in whatever he sets out to do. I also wish I had not waited so long to start posting.