“Hairdryer.”
“Hairdryer will stop our session. Now, for this session, I’d like to add a word. It will be whatever word you’d like, and you’ll say it if you’d like to slow down. Any word you’dlike.”
“Can I just say slowdown?”
“You can, but here’s why I’d prefer you to say a single word rather than a phrase. A phrase can’t be uttered quickly if the need to slow down grew urgent. The word ‘slow’ is a common word that you’d naturally say. I don’t want it to be a word on the tip of your tongue to use. It’s that same reason why I prefer you not use ‘stop.’ That’s why you have ‘hairdryer.’ Some use ‘yellow’ to slowdown.”
“Okay, yellowthen.”
“Yellow to slow, hairdryer to stop. Remove your clothes, but leave your underwear on,” Russellinstructed.
Fuck, okay, I could do this. I slowly walked to the spanking bench, and as I climbed onto it, Russell took hold of my bicep to halt me. When I looked at him, he held his right hand up and said, “This is not the hand of your father, do youunderstand?”
“Yes,Russell.”
When I got into position on the bench, he announced that he would not use restraints for this session. He must’ve been worried that I was going to climb the walls or some shit. My pulse raced as he warmed the area that he’d soon strike. His hand was firm over the fabric of my boxer briefs. His right hand rested on my upper back and felt like it could ease the tension while the other hand continued torub.
All of this felt great, but my focus shifted quickly to what Russell was doing when I felt a few of his fingers curl around the waistband of my underwear. In the blink of an eye, my boxer briefs had been pulled down, and the waistband rested just below my ass cheeks. I inhaled a sharp breath of air moments before his bare hand smacked my ass. When my body jerked, the hand that was on my upper back began to rub back and forth between my shoulderblades.
“Ryan.” Russell’s voice pulled me away from my dad’s den, and I focused on my ass that was now on fire. “Still withme?”
I nodded but spoke up when his hand on my upper back firmly patted on my shoulderblades.
“Are you?” heasked.
“Yes.”
“Good, Ryan. Let’s move away from your father’sden.”
Fuck, he knew. How the fuck did he know that shit? His hands continued to confuse my body while his voice shoved me around. Why did he have to talk during these? Maybe a better question was how the fuck did he know what to say that made meemotional?
“Your father’s hands were different than mine,Ryan.”
They were different for many reasons. They were heavily calloused from work on the railroad. They wererough.
“They weren’t caring hands,Ryan.”
They weren’t.He continued to spank me and rub on my back as I thought back to how my dad’s torn up hands would scratch at my skin when he’d grabme.
“They didn’t disciplineyou.”
I frowned.No, they did discipline me. I was always in trouble.I could feel the lump and acid building in my throat as the spankingcontinued.
“Discipline, Ryan, occurs out oflove.”
Oh. Fuck, please don’t gothere.
“Your father didn’t discipline you. He harmedyou.”
Fuck!
I tried to take a breath and choked on asob.
My dad harmed me. He hadn’t disciplined me out of love. He harmed me out ofhate.
Why did that fucking hurt so much? The tears and pain in my stomach were all coming at me way too fast. I started to move off the bench and Russell’s hands were on me. One was wrapped around my bicep, and the other was on my chest as I found my own balance andstood.
“Stop, please,” I begged. I covered my ears in fear that I’d hear him tell me that my dad didn’t care atall.
