Chapter Fifteen: Ryan

W ombat Run Station is a sight for sore eyes. I've only been here once before but pulling up to the main gate and its logo which is far too cute for a cattle station, but is somehow perfect for the men behind these brick and iron walls, fills me with a sense of home and belonging so strong that my eyes well with tears. Dusty's the one to meet me this time, greeting me with a jovial wave before he opens the gates and gestures for me to drive through.

There's just something special about this place. A lot of it is the people, I'm sure. They're all so welcoming and nonjudgemental; something I've come to fully appreciate in the months since Oscar and I started dating. Hearing his stories about their shenanigans assures me that I can embrace my Daddy with open arms and even call him by that title without any of these stationhands so much as batting an eye.

It's not just the people, though. The place itself is warm and inviting. The long, gravel driveway leads up to the main farmhouse, which looks like something out of a TV show or movie. It's a high-set single storey Queenslander-style house; timber in construction with a wrap-around veranda and a corrugated roof. The outer fa?ade is painted a mossy green colour, and all the balustrades, support beams and window trims are bright white. It's just so country and welcoming.

The paddocks and fields around the property are vast, and while they're not all lush and green (not with the Western Australian sun bearing down on them all year around), there's still something idyllic about the stretches of reddish brown dirt and grass which has faded to almost a wheaten colour.

The sky overhead is clear and stretches on forever and is currently turning magenta and pink with streaks of orange as the sun begins to set — a spectacular view which is only enhanced by the fluffy white clouds drifting over the horizon.

You just don't get views like this in the city.

Admittedly, I get wonderful ocean sunset views from my little villa on the beach, but there's something extra spectacular about watching the sun setting over the seemingly never-ending paddocks at the station.

Then there's also the scents in the air. It smells like a farm, with cattle and horses and grass, but the air is fresh and crisp, even in the dying heat of the early evening. I find it invigorating and soothing all at once, even if I am technically a born and bred city boy.

Maybe I'm a reformed city boy? Reforming, even?

My train of thought is derailed as the front door of the main house swings open and Rob steps out, beaming down at me from the top of the front steps. "Doc!" he greets jovially, making an ushering movement with his arm, "Come on in. Let's get you a drink."

"Just water's fine," I tell him, and he scoffs.

"After the day you've had, plus that drive? At least have a beer with me." Then he stops in his tracks and grimaces, shifting to apologetic as he goes on, "Unless you don't drink alcohol. The boys keep telling me I need to stop just assuming everyone does."

"It's all good," I shoot him an easy smile. "I do drink occasionally…mostly socially, to be honest…but I'm usually more a red wine guy, or I'll have a good quality bourbon over ice."

"I can arrange either of those things."

"Maybe later." I wipe my feet on the welcome mat before I step onto the polished timber floors inside. "How's Jemima doing? And Little Ted?" Cocking my head, I move to turn back to the door. "Want me to check in on them? Or any other animals while I'm here?"

"All the animals are doing just fine," Rob places his hand on my shoulder and redirects me towards a generously sized living room, "and you're not working while you're here. Ozzy would have my head if he thought I was taking advantage that way."

I snort. "You're his boss, and you're doing me a huge favour letting me crash in one of your cabins for a couple of nights. The least I can do is—"

"Nuh-uh. You're a guest here, Doc, and your money isn't any good here, either, just before you start getting any ideas." He guides me into a cushy brown leather armchair. "Besides, he's your Dom, not me. He'd have every right to take me to task if I put you to work."

I blink. "How'd you—"

"Most everyone here's some kind of kinky," he shrugs and drops into the chair beside mine, "and we're all pretty open about our interests. I know Ozzy's a Daddy Dom, so it goes to reason you're his Sub."

"His Boy," I admit quietly, not having spoken the words aloud to anyone other than Oscar himself. "I'm—I'm his Boy, actually."

Rob's knowing grin widens and he nods. "I'm happy for you both." He leans forward, then conspiratorially says, "I've put you in the honeymoon cabin. It's a bit further out than the rest, and I'm giving Oz tomorrow off as a personal day."

My cheeks flame at the suggestion underlying his words. "Oh, no, I just needed—"

"Your Dom to take care of you," he finishes firmly, giving me a stare that almost dares me to argue with him. "Let Ozzy take care of you, Doc," he continues in a gentler tone when I don't press my luck. Every bit of my submissive nature refuses to. I've never really been a brat, and I won't be starting with a strange Dom, no matter how fair he seems. "I've made sure there's food up in the cabin, too, so you don't have to face the rabble here."

I fight back the overwhelming urge to hug him. Throat tight, I force out a gruff, "Thank you" which doesn't cover half the gratitude I feel at his understanding and compassion.

If I can be half the boss and friend that this guy is, I'll be doing alright.

"There you are," Oscar's voice comes from the archway leading to the main foyer and just the sight of him relaxes me. He strides across the living room with his gaze locked on mine, not even acknowledging his employer before he stands in front of me and then pulls me up from my seat and into his strong hug.

He smells freshly showered, his signature coconut and lime bodywash tickling my nose as I press my face into the crook of his neck. Daddy , I think almost desperately. Safe.

It should be startling that I've come to think of this young man as my safe space, but we've gotten close over these past few months, and I believe Maddy would be relieved to know that I'm not alone anymore.

"Oh, darlin', I've got you," he murmurs soothingly, his hand rubbing up and down my spine, and I'm surprised to realise that I'm shaking. "You can let go. I'm taking over now."

Just like that, the last of my worries fade away. I trust that he will follow through on his pronouncement. The fact that he took the initiative to call Trev and organise a lawyer for me while I was still melting down over the letter I received this morning means more than I can properly express. He knew exactly what I needed, and he took care of it. Took care of me. He's going to do the same thing now, and even if I don't know exactly what I need, I trust that he will.

* * *

"Sit," Daddy demands once we're in the cabin, with him having pried me out of the main house with his own thanks issued towards Rob. He gently nudges me onto the loveseat in front of the unlit fireplace. "I'll sort out a light dinner because I'm guessing you haven't eaten, and then we'll talk."

I scrunch my nose. I don't want to talk. I want to be draped over his lap and spanked into subspace. I want him to paddle my arse red and raw, until I'm sobbing and letting out all of my pent-up emotions. I want pain and release.

"We're not going into a scene until I know you're really okay to." His tone is a strange mix of empathetic and commanding. "So, food then talking. After that, we'll take things as they come. Understood?"

As much as I really need the release, I do appreciate that he's putting my mental and physical health first. "Yes," I nod.

He arches an eyebrow. "Yes what , Ryan?"

Straightening my spine, I allow the shiver of pure arousal to travel through me at that firm, serious tone. "Yes, Daddy."

Oscar smiles. "Good boy. Now, try and relax and I'll throw a quick dinner together."

He rummages around in the kitchenette, pulling things out of the fridge and the cupboards as he quite literally throws together a salad with some grilled chicken and a vinaigrette dressing. We eat at the little two-seat dining table and then settle back on the couch together after he washes the dishes, allowing me to dry them.

I have to admit, I'm feeling significantly better for having eaten and exchanged small talk over our meal. I've still got stress and anxiety itching under my skin, but I don't feel close to breaking down anymore. Daddy looks relieved when I tell him so.

"Good," he says softly. "I'm happy to give you the relief you need, but I won't ever do it if you're too far gone in your head to give proper, considered consent. I need to know that you'll still safe-word if things go too far, you know?"

How could he have ever doubted himself as a Daddy or a Dom?

"Thank you, Daddy. That means a lot to me." He's got my best interests at heart, and that only solidifies my trust in him.

It also reaffirms my love for him.

Before I can open my mouth to tell him that, he asks me, "What do you need tonight, darlin'?"

I think about how deeply I trust him. About how intimate I need my punishment and release to feel. The answer comes to me easily, though it's not something I've let anyone other than Maddy do to me before.

Licking my lips, I raise my chin and look him in the eyes, knowing that this isn't something I can appear hesitant to suggest. He has to know how serious I am.

"Choke me, Daddy." I watch the surprise on his face, and I press just a bit harder, "Choke me and fuck me hard. I want to feel you for days."