A Weekend At Sir's - Part One (Patreon Exclusive)

This was going to be a one-off, but after writing it I realized that just the buildup was going to take a post if I was going to do it justice, so I'm turning it into a three parter or so.

Thanks to one particular Big Gay Monkey for helping me brainstorm this!

Contains: BD/SM, Consensual power play

“You’ve got your stuffy?” Daddy eyed me, clutching my week bag in my arms. It didn’t have much–Sam had explained that he had all the clothes, diapers, and other supplies I’d need. My bag just held Mr. Trunks, my stuffed elephant, a few coloring books, my nighttime meds, and my phone.

Daddy looked uncertain. I knew why–he was worried about me, but I’d agreed to this. I wanted it, and he wanted me to get it, but he still had that concern.

“I’ll be okay, daddy,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”

He smiled. “I just wish I could do this for you, you know?”

I giggled. He was too much of a big softie. I loved him for that–he downright spoiled me, and I’d never ask him to change–but he was squeamish, and occasionally, well…

Occasionally I needed someone to be cruel.

“You’ll call me every night?” he asked.

I nodded immediately. “Of course, Daddy.”

“And you’ll use your safe words if it’s too much?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you’ve got your elephant–”

“Daddy,” I smiled. “I’ll be fine. I want this. Okay?”

He nodded, taking a breath. He was more nervous than I was, all told.

Curiosity dug at me, and I asked, “So…what did Sam say he was going to do, exactly?”

Daddy shook his head. Soft he may be, but he still knew how to keep a secret.

Negotiations for this scene had gone through daddy. I’d told him the sort of thing I wanted, and my hard limits–he’d talked to Sam about specifics. Judging by how pale his face had gotten, I suspected Daddy wanted to grab me and drag me far, far away from Sam’s home, but he’d talked to me to confirm the few details he was uncertain of, and nothing was beyond the pale.

For the next three days, I was going to belong to Sam, and he was going to use me, and abuse me, and I couldn’t wait.

“I can come pick you up–” Daddy started.

Leaning over, I kissed him on the cheek, gave his hand a squeeze, and said, “Daddy, take a breath. Okay?”

He followed my advice. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“We trust Sam, right?” I asked.

“Of course, known him for years, he’s–” Daddy started, before nodding. “Yeah, I get it. I just can’t bear to think of you…y’know.”

I kissed him again. “As long as you promise to be there for the aftercare, that’s all I’ll need to get me through it. Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.” One last peck on the cheek, and then I leaned back, opened the door, and looked up at Sam’s house.

Sam’s property, really. He owned a ten acre plot on the edge of town, and even the driveway up was a short hike. As per our instructions, Daddy was to drop me off and I’d have to walk to Sam’s, who was ‘taking care of me for the weekend’. I had a note in my bag with care instructions, and everything else…

I didn’t know anything else. I had no idea what Sam had planned for me.

Shouldering my bag, I began the walk.

Though I didn’t know why Sam had insisted on this part, as I trudged up his front driveway, I got an inkling. It gave me an impression of how far from other people we really were. With every step, I got further away from other people, further away from help–I really would be helpless.

Sam wouldn’t do anything beyond my limits, of course, but…he could. I wouldn’t even be able to call for help.

It also occurred to me, as I got closer, that modesty wouldn’t be an issue. Nobody was around to see.

I’d be alone.

I stopped for a moment, taking a breath. I checked my phone; there was a text from Daddy. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come get you? That’d be okay.’

He probably would have preferred that. I considered the option for a long moment. Was I ready for this? Would I even be able to last the whole weekend?

I sent back a heart emoji, then kept walking.

It took almost fifteen minutes just to make it up the driveway. It was a long time to reconsider.

Sam answered a minute later. He didn’t go in for all the leather top stuff–instead, he went with something subtler; snug jeans and a white shirt that clung snugly to his body, accentuating the fact that he could outmuscle me. My body, in comparison, was soft and a little round–Daddy called me his little teddy bear–but Sam’s was chiseled. You could bounce a quarter on his abs.

I swallowed. “Hello, Sam.”

He looked down at me. Though he was only a few inches taller, the look of superiority in his eyes made it feel like a stark gap, like he towered over me. “That’s, ‘Sir’.”

“O-okay, sir.” Fuck me… ten seconds in, and I could already feel my heart fluttering, my cock trembling in my boxers. “Where should I put my bag? Daddy had a note for you…”

“Give it to me,” he said. I offered him the whole bag and he took it, opening it to reach in for the folded note.

While he skimmed it, I glanced around the place. Daddy had been here before–I hadn’t, and the front room was less harsh than I’d expected. It was almost cozy, in a rustic sort of way, with a couch around a real wood fireplace.

“Your Daddy wrote this?” he asked, eyeing me. “You didn’t just forge his name at the bottom so you could be pampered all weekend?”

I squeaked. “No!”

“No what?” He looked me up and down, and I swallowed.

“No, I didn’t write it!” I said, and when his gaze grew even more withering, I finally realized what I’d left off. “Sir.”

He smirked. “Well, at least you can learn, but if this is how your daddy treats you, you’re in for a shock.”

“What does it say?” I glanced around, uncertain if I should sit.

He cleared his throat. “Instructions for care: Number one. My little boy can’t sleep without a night light, and he usually needs some water in case he gets thirsty.” Rolling his eyes, he added, “Just a moment.”

He turned and strode out of the living room, around a corner so I couldn’t see where he’d gone. When he returned a second later, he had a permanent marker in his hand. I eyed it, then him.

“Let’s correct this,” he said, striking out the first point with the marker. “Number two. If my baby wants to use the potty, I let him go–he doesn’t like stinky diapers.” Raising the marker, he struck that one out too.

I squeaked.

“What?” he looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not potty trained, but you expect me to stand around and take off your diapers whenever you feel like?”

“N-no sir,” I conceded. “I’m sorry.”

“Good. Number three–he wrote little hearts around this one. ‘I let him have stickies every time he gets a diaper change; his wand is in the bag’.” Rolling his eyes, Sam struck it from the list. “Number four–he says I should make sure you always get changed right away, you rash easily.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

My own eyes wide, I felt a squeak escape my throat.

“As I said above, I’m not operating on your whims,” he said. “I’ll change you when I feel like changing you.”

It went on like that. Every bit of comfort Daddy offered me, one by one, got removed. Sleeping with Mr. Trunks? Gone. Getting to have chicken nuggets for dinner if he didn’t like what Sam cooked? Gone. Forehead kisses–why did Daddy put that on the list?–gone, obviously. The list became almost pure sharpie, with only two points remaining unscathed. My bedtime, and the reminder to take my meds.

I assumed this had to be planned–Daddy had talked to Sam beforehand plenty of times, negotiating on my behalf–but the way he casually dismissed every comfort that Daddy had planned for me still sent a chill down my back.

“Alright,” Sam said. “Here’s my house rules. You will address me as sir. You will not attempt to hold it this weekend, even if you’re not wearing your diaper. If I tell you to do something, you’ll do it immediately.”

I waited, assuming more rules were coming, but…no. That seemed to be the whole list. At least I didn’t need to worry about forgetting any rules, it was simple. “Yes sir.”

“If you disobey,” Sam warned. “I will punish you.”

“Y-yes sir,” I repeated. A disconcerting thought struck me. “What’s stopping you from just punishing me anyways?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to, but there will be a difference. The punishment I have planned for you will be bad. The punishment you’ll get for disobedience will be far, far worse.”

I swallowed.

“Take off your clothes,” Sam instructed. “I want to know what sort of diapers you wear.”

I knelt, undoing the velcro on my shoes so I could slip them off and set them aside. Before I could even get the first one removed, though, Sam cleared his throat. I glanced up at him, uncertain, staring up the length of his body. From my kneeling position, he towered over me, huge and on the verge of threatening.

“You forgot to say something,” he warned.

“I–” I started. “Yes sir?”

“Good. Don’t forget again.”

I returned to my task, slipping off the shoes, then my socks, then shucking out of my shirt. I was a bit chubbier than I’d have liked, even as Daddy assured me I was beautiful.

Sitting back on my butt, I unzipped my shorts and slid them down my legs, setting them in a pile with my other clothes.

It was just me, naked, save for the pink bunny print diaper taped around my waist.

“Cute,” Sam said, though when he said the word, it carried a different weight. Not, ‘You’re adorable’, but, ‘You’re beneath me’. “Alright, Inspect.”

He said the word as though I should have known what it meant. I didn’t. I had an inkling, but only in passing, the sort of vague familiarity of, ‘I know loosely what he’s asking for, but I couldn’t obey in a thousand years’. I just stared up at him, helpless.

“I gave you a command,” he said.

“I don’t know what it means, sir.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at me. This was planned–he had to have known already that I wouldn’t know what the word meant. I wondered what was coming next, what Daddy had agreed to on my behalf. “Follow me,” he said. I started to get to my feet, and he snapped, “No. Crawl.”

Moving onto all fours, I shuffled behind him. His floors were hardwood, and the discomfort on my knees started right away. I could instead raise my legs, crawling on my hands and feet, but after just a minute of that, my ankles and legs were strained and tired. The discomfort of weight on my knees was better.

Sam’s home had a large, open design in the front, a central kitchen that looked like a central hub surrounded by a spacious living area. I imagined it could comfortably hold thirty or forty people in a party, more if your definition of ‘comfortably’ was less claustrophobic than mine. As he led me off to the side, though, the spacious main area gave way to  hallways and side rooms, and ultimately to a guest bedroom at the very far end of the house.

I crawled inside behind him, and as he shut the door, I took in the space and recognized that I’d only been half right. There was a bed in here–well, a sleeping mat, at least–but this was largely a play room. Neatly organized pin boards had toys, tools, and blunt instruments on display.

“Kneel facing that wall,” Sam instructed, pointing to the far wall, the only one without shelves or peg boards against it. “If you don’t even know your positions, then I’ll need to train you from the ground up.”

I moved to place and knelt, and Sam immediately moved behind me, to a peg board I couldn’t see. He took his time, and I had to bring out all my willpower to keep from looking over my shoulder to see what he was retrieving.

“Raise your head,” he instructed. I obeyed, and felt his hands move around my neck, pulling something–a collar, it has to be–around my throat. With a click, it buckled into place, and I felt its weightiness and solidity around me. “Now, when I say ‘Inspect’, you stand up straight, lace your fingers behind your head, and spread your legs so that I can see every part of you.”

“Yes sir,” I said, nodding.

“‘Inspect’.”

I stood–my balance was a little wobbly, surprising to me given that I’d only been crawling a couple minutes. It took me a few seconds, but I stood obediently at attention as best as I could.

Still standing behind me, Sam pressed the side of my ankle with his foot, forcing me to spread my legs a little wider. He moved my elbows with his hands, corrected my posture slightly, and finally said, “Good. Wait here.”

He left.

I remained standing, obediently, facing the wall. I had no idea why he’d gone, or where, or how long I was expected to wait here.

And this was just the start of the weekend.