After the meeting described in Finding a Daddy - Part 3, it was a while before Brad and I could get together again. And a lot happened in the interval. What I thought was a muscle ache in my neck, turned into swelling, which was diagnosed as a cancerous lymph node. As I'd had oral cancer three years before, this was most unwelcome news. The first bout had led to part of my tongue being removed, followed by several weeks of radiation that left me without any sense of taste, a dry mouth, and severe fatigue. I got over all three, for the most part, but it took nearly a year. The thought of going through a similar process left me in a pretty bad state.
I'd told Brad of the situation as soon as I had anything to report, even before the definite diagnosis. And when I told him that the diagnosis was positive, he offered to come over to try to comfort me, even to forgo spanking me, "no matter how much I think you need to have your bottom set afire. Of course my preference would be to comfort you and give you a spanking, and well deserved, bare-bottomed over-the-knee spanking. And to _f_u_c_k_ you. But right now, that may not be the best thing for you. In that case - I'll be the comforting dad." He even went so far as to rescinding the ban on spanking porn sites, saying that it could take my mind off my problems.
Part of me wanted to have him with me, to be his boy and let him take total control, and part of me wondered if I'd be up to it. Since our last meeting, I'd been under a lot of stress because of the uncertainly of the process of testing for the cancer, and waiting for the diagnosis and then the treatment plan. Once I knew what I was up against and could get an idea of the course of treatment, I faced another issue, and that was whether I would be able to tolerate enough radiation this time around to do any good, or whether I would have to proceed with extensive surgery which could involve rerouting, possible removing arteries and leave me disfigured.
In that state of mind, I was unsure how I would handle a session with Brad, and a vacillated, even sending him one message that we should postpone. Of course I regretted that a couple hours after I sent it and send another message, begging him to come. My usual bad luck came into play, and he got both messages at the same time and replied that it would probably be better to postpone. This message reached me around 8:30 on a Sunday morning. He'd been due at 9:00.
I sent of another email, thinking that there was no way he could get it in time, telling him I was sure now that he should come over, that it would do me a lot of good to spend some time with Dad. Fifteen minutes later I got the message that he'd be at my house at 9:15. He must have thought he was dealing with one very confused boy.
But when he arrived, he found a very happy boy. His strength and calm enfolded me as soon as he walked into the room. Soon I was enfolded in his arms as well.
Brad took me to the bedroom, saying, "Let's get my boy comfortable." He soon had me out of my clothes and told me to lie on the bed. I watched as he unfolded one of the disposable diapers and picked up the baby powder. I was soon in the familiar diaper position being sprinkled with the fragrant powder. I reacted to this by getting hard, which Brad ignored as he wrapped the diaper around me and fastened it. He lifted me off the bed and put his arm around me as we walked to the easy chair in the other room. When I was seated in his lap, with my head against his shoulder, I felt as if all was well in my world.
"I'm so happy to see you Tony. It's been too long since Dad's been able to hold his boy. Tell me what the doctors are saying."
I told him all I'd heard, as well as what I suspected and feared would happen. He said nothing, but held me tighter when he sensed I was frightened and upset. It felt good to be able to unburden freely to someone. I could tell him things I was uncomfortable telling anyone. Perhaps this was because we had done things together that I had never been bold enough to do with anyone else, and that I certainly couldn't tell others about.
"And how was your trip to visit your family."
I told him about a long weekend I'd spent with my elderly parents the week before, including my usual altercation with my mother, who always seems to be able to find a dozen things to criticize during the first hour I'm with her.
"That doesn't sound very respectful of your mother, Tony. You shouldn't talk to her like that."
"I don't really say that much to her, I just think it."
"But I bet she can tell what you're thinking from your tone of voice. Parents know that sort of thing."
"I guess show. She did say something about my attitude toward her."
"There, you see. She can tell. That's not good. And how are things going with your boss. Any better?" I'd told Brad before that my immediate supervisor, a lovely woman, hadn't a clue about what she was doing, and the whole staff knew it. I now gave him some specific examples.
"It's not right to disrespect your boss either. I can see it's been too long since I've seen you. You've gotten to be something of a sassy brat. Well, we'll have to talk about that later. And there is also the issue of how you are taking care of yourself. I saw that one of your emails was sent at nearly 11:00 PM. You should be in bed resting long before then in your condition. You've got to stay strong, son. You've got to lick this thing."
The conversation went back to how happy we were to see each other and how he was going to take care of me and help me through this rough spot. But after a few minutes, Brad's voice got more serious.
"I think you need some time to think about this misbehavior of yours. You need a time out, so go stand in that corner and stay there until you are ready to tell me what I should do about this problem."
To the corner I went, standing quietly as Brad fiddled with the CD player and put on some background music.
"You know, Tony, it seems we can never have a visit without having to address this behavior problem of yours. It would be nice to be able to come over to just spend some nice quality time with my boy, but it doesn't happen."
"Well, Dad, you don't have to punish me, you know. We can just have a nice time together."
"No, son. That's not the way it works. A dad can't ignore this sort of thing. Now I didn't tell you to talk. So just stay there until you've decided what I should do. Then you can talk."
There was no question in my mind as to what punishment Brad had in mind, but I was going to make him wait for a little while before I gave him the satisfaction of saying it.
"One thing that makes a sick boy feel better is an enema, so I think I'll have to give you one next thing. You should feel more relaxed after that."
The thought of the enema got my dick into action again. I felt it pushing against the diaper. I realized there was no sense in delaying the inevitable, so I said, "Dad. I know I've been naughty and want you to give me a spanking."
"That's my boy. I'm glad you came to the right decision. Now come here and daddy will give you your enema."
I turned and saw Brad had a fleet enema in his hand, and another one on the shelf next to him. He'd moved to the straightback chair. My, he looked good sitting there. Slim, all muscle. I loved the feel of his thighs under my torso, and I was soon enjoying that feeling. My diaper was taken down in the back, and the first enema was inserted.
"There. I think you're going to need a second one to do you some good. Here it comes."
The second one went in more slowly. Brad instructed me to hold it well and for as long as I could. He rubbed my stomach for a while, then he moved to my butt, caressing me in an ever tightening circle until he was centered on my anus. I felt is finger glide in, then probe deeper as he said that he was seeing if he could feel the water. His finger massaged my prostate, and I felt that I was close to cumming.
But I didn't want to cum then, so soon. I knew we'd both have more fun if I could hold out. I think Brad knew that to, because he would pull back just before I went over the edge. I went limp, totally docile and unresisting as I lay over his lap, content enough to lie there forever, but the enema gurgling inside me told me I had to use the bathroom.
Brad escorted me to the bathroom and removed my diaper completely. He asked if I wanted Dad to sit with me. The other times we'd done this, his presence had been a source of humiliation for me, but now I wanted it, so I asked him to stay. He sat on the edge of the tub, so close to me that I could rest my head on his lap and hug his waist as he stroked my hair, encouraging me to let nature take it's course so I would feel better. Which is how we remained until the enema had done its work.
Brad drew a bath, and I got in. He bathed with the gentleness I'd wanted on previous occasions but didn't get. This bath wasn't a punishment, though it was very thorough, and he took no more notice of any modesty issues than the previous ones did. We talked about my illness and how it was always on my mind. But eventually the conversation lightened a bit, even to the point that we were recounting humorous situations we'd both found ourselves in. Then he had me stand up so he could dry me thoroughly.
"Now, Tony, before I put you to bed for your nap, I'm going to take you back to the other room and give you the spanking you asked for. It's only going to be one spanking, but there won't be any breaks. It's won't be as hard as the last time, but you will know you have been spanked when I'm done. So, let's get this over with."
I could tell from his voice and demeanor that Brad was in his spanking mode. He hadn't raised his voice to me. The tone was moderate but firm. There was no question that he was determined and that I had nothing to say about it. We went straight to the chair, but he moved it so my torso would be supported by the seat of the easy chair. He said it was a concession to my physical condition.
But the spanking that followed didn't make any concessions or cut me any slack. He smacked firmly and steadily, up and down each cheek, lecturing me on why he was spanking me.
"I won't have any son of mine being disrespectful to anyone, especially his mother or his boss. Who do you think you are, Tony, acting like that? " I didn't think any answer was required, so I focused my attention on my stinging butt. "You think you're smarter than everyone else, don't you? I've spanked you for disrespect before, Tony, and I'll just have to do it every time you are disrespectful, but each time it's going to get worse, until you've learned your lesson."
While Brad varied the pace a bit, he never stopped spanking me completely. He reinforced the key points of his lecture with stronger swats, just to make sure he had my attention.
"And what ARE you thinking sitting up all hours on the computer. You should be taking care of yourself. I know I told you it was OK to look at the spanking sites again, to distract you for this disease, but I know you've been abusing that privilege. How are you going to get well if you don't build up your strength. I've half a mind to come over here, give you your bath, and tuck you in for early bedtime. Someone has to take care of you if you can't take care of yourself."
Somehow I was able to take all this in, despite the pain in my tail, which was throbbing by that point. I was doing my usual attempt to be stoic and take it, not to give in, but I wasn't doing so well at it.
"But my biggest worry, Tony, is that you aren't a fighter. You have to fight this disease, not just go along with it. I know you say you're doing what the doctors recommend, but you have to do more. You've got to put your will to it and fight. Look at you, you don't even put up a fight when I spank you. I've never met a boy with so little backbone as you have. You've got to fight."
If he wants a fighter, I thought, I'll give him one. How could he be saying this, when he'd once said that my submission was such a turn-on to him? What did he want from me. And what did he now about what I was going through and how I was dealing with my illness. I might not be his kind of fighter, but I was determined.
"Stop it. I've had enough. Stop it right now and let me up. This has gone far enough. You can't do this to me."
"Can't I?" Brad said, as he picked up the pace of the spanking and held me tighter. I tried to raise myself up, only to meet the resistance of his arm over my back. I twisted, but couldn't get away. Kicking only seemed to increase the pain. I willed myself to get away from him, but my will wasn't strong enough to conquer his. I was stuck.
Was I really not a fighter? Didn't I have the will to see this through? What more could I do? How could he expect more? I was giving it my all. I heard a voice that sounded something like my own.
"What can I do? I can't do anymore. You don't know what it's like." The voice was sobbing.
"Please, I'm doing all I can. I just can't take any more." I must have said more, through my tears, for I was crying openly now.
Brad scooped me up into his arms and held me on his lap, as I sobbed into his shoulder. "That's it, Tony. Just let it all out. Don't try to hold it in. It's OK. I'll take care of you."
The crying just went on and on, and I couldn't stop it. I felt Brad put his arms under my knees and lifted me up. Though I am as heavy as he is, he just picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he gently laid me on my side, then nestled behind me, spoon fashion. He held me there for as long as it took for me to settle down, gently caressing me, kissing away my tears, and telling me it was all going to be all right. I believed him.
When I was settled, he whispered in my ear that Dad wanted to _f_u_c_k_ me, if I was up to it. I was. We started on our sides, then I was on my belly. We moved through several positions as he continued to drive into me. We rolled onto his back and I rode him until my muscles were ready to give out. We stoked the fires of our intensity until we reached the point of no return and were bathed in an orgasm of stunning force. Then we lay very quiet for a few minutes.
"You know, Tony. I don't think you've been telling me the truth. You've had more experience pleasuring a man with anal _s_e_x_ that you admit."
"Or than I know. It's something that's come naturally to me, which is a good thing, since I've never been any good at sucking _c_o_c_k_."
"That's something we can work on. It's a skill you can develop, with the right teacher."
I smiled at the thought.
"You like that, don't you, cutie?"
"Cutie?"
"Yeah, you are a cutie. And _s_e_x_y, but I bet you've heard that a lot before."
Though I remembered the advice my friend Deborah gave me in the 70s ("Honey, the first word a guy says after he's screwed you is flattery, and the rest is all lies. Though the poor son of a bitch probably believes is at the time"), it was good to hear it. I hoped that I could one day believe it. For now I was content to lie next to him and take in his words. But not for too long.
"Well, Tony, I've got to go. I'm supposed to be meeting a guy about some firewood."
"I wonder if we'll ever get to spend more than a couple hours together?"
"I don't know, but I hope so. I could take you shopping to a store like Sears, with a big boys department. Dad would like to dress his boy."
"Oh, sure. "
"You think I'm joking?" Brad said, raising one eyebrow so it was nearly at his hairline. "Just wait. It will come true. But I do have to go."
He rose to dress and I followed.
"No, Tony. You're staying here for your nap. I'll let myself out. Be good."
There was a kiss, and he was gone. Though I was content, I wasn't able to take that nap.
A couple hours later I found that Brad had left his glasses in the bathroom. I emailed him right away to tell him. He came by later in the afternoon to pick them up, but I had a friend over for a chat, so Brad and I couldn't talk. But he did have time to tell me he was glad that I wasn't alone, and he emailed later to say it was good I wasn't sitting at home brooding, as I'd taken quite a spanking, both physically and emotionally, that morning.
When we traded email the following day, Brad told me that he planned one day to spank me in public, but that didn't look likely soon. So he wanted to make my spankings public, on MMSA Stories. He instructed me to write four stories, detailing how we hooked up, and each of our first three meetings. This is the last of the stories he told me to write.
I'm going to do more, writing a fifth part, to bring things full circle. The last installment will be most difficult to write, but I owe it to Brad to tell the rest of our story.
TO BE CONTINUED