by J. M. Dabney
A confusing combination of anticipation and terror kicked my heart into a painful overdrive.
"Josh, once this is over, we're going to have a talk. I was trying to wait until we were safe, but unfortunately, I'm a selfish man."
I parted my lips to ask for an explanation, but the sting of his hand connecting with my right ass cheek stopped me. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from making a noise. A yelp slipped out when he repeated the smack on the opposite one.
"Actions have consequences. Rules are given for you to follow so that I know you're safe when you're not with me."
"You don't give me rules."
"And that ends…now. You will repeat each rule that I issue. Do you understand me?"
"Yes…yes, sir."
"Rule one…you will accept every compliment I give without argument."
His thighs flexed under my stomach, and his fingertips dug into my lower back before he struck again on each cheek.
"Repeat our rules."
A sob choked me, and I swallowed hard trying to clear the knot from my throat. "I will accept every compliment."
"You hesitate again, your punishment will take longer."
"Yes, sir."
"Rule two…you will always be completely honest with me."
The spanking intensified. It became harder to think. Tears stung my eyes, and I choked out the next rule. This sounded wrong, like permanence. A sweet promise I didn't want to accept. Yet, I craved that. I wanted that fairy tale that was colored with happiness and not the tales in their original and horrific versions.
"Rule three…you will never put yourself down."
I repeated as he told me to, but the compulsion to argue grew until I had to speak around the constriction of my throat. My flight response kicked in, and I tried to get away from the pain blooming in my abused cheeks. What had simply stung morphed into a fiery agony.
"Shh, baby boy, just relax. We're almost done. Just trust me a few more minutes."
I wanted to fight against the soothing nature of his voice. But I wanted to tell him I trusted him. Past and present fought for dominance, the acceptance of pain for love or correction as care. Caring was much more intense. Love was an empty platitude, words spoken in superficial apologies—the fleeting fuck as someone used you to get off. With the spanking came a scary lightness, relief, but I also felt outside myself.
"Rule four…you will no matter what, always take care of yourself first. Your well-being above everyone else's, including me."
The skin on my bottom felt hot and tight, and he struck the lower curves where they met my thighs.
"Get up and sit on my lap."
I slipped off his lap and went to cover myself, but his softly whispered no stopped me. I fisted my hand in the fabric and kept it in place so I wouldn't expose the scars that covered my pelvis, hips, and groin. He knew they existed. They'd been shown off in all their brutally explicit nature in photos in front of a packed courtroom.
I sat down on his thigh but quickly found myself cradled on his lap. His arm was a brace across the middle of my back. My head rested on his chest. The hair tickling my cheek and nose. I waited for it and wasn't disappointed when he pinched my chin to make sure I looked at him. The emotion in his eyes was intense, and I was trapped by that.
"Your safety means everything to me, and I need you to understand and accept that."
I hugged his forearm to my chest, and my eyes kept falling to his firm lips. My eyes fluttered closed as his calloused thumb stroked along my lower lip. Felt the pad catch on the scarred skin. A sigh slipped out when he brushed the gentlest kisses to my mouth, the corners, the bowed top one, and I sightlessly followed the warmth and care. No man had ever kissed me like that as if this was enough. That fucking me wasn't the end goal.
"Open your eyes. I need to see them as I finish with your rules."
And the rules were a seduction, none of them had anything to do with sex or getting off. The spanking didn't even feel sexual. It was just as he’d said, correction.
"Rule five…you'll tell me what you want or need at all times."
I repeated the rule and felt lighter—freer. There wasn't a suffocating weight on my chest forcing the air from my lungs. I stroked my fingers through the hair covering his pectorals. I felt more than heard his rumbling.
"Rule six…I can add rules as I see fit depending on behavior and circumstance without notice."
"Yes, sir."
"Now let me see who belongs to me."
He helped me off his lap, and I stood before him, his hands were clenched on his thighs. Barely an inch of fabric existed between exposure and modesty. Did I have the courage to take that step? This would be an acceptance of his ownership of me.
"What was rule number two, baby boy?"
"I would always be honest."
"That's right, so use your words."
"I don't want you to fuck me."
"And I have no plans to do so. My pants stay on, but yours need to come off…now."
I shoved them down before I could give it a second thought. I stepped out of them where the fabric pooled around my ankles. My fists were clenched as I fought my need to hide my body—the ugliness of it. I jerked my gaze upward as I heard the bed creak and saw him scooting backward until his back was rested against the headboard attached to the wall.
"Tell me why you're uncomfortable."
"My body is ugly. I'm too thin. I'm covered in scars."
"No, Josh, you're not too thin. Yes, you need to gain a few more pounds to get to a healthy weight, but you were kept starved as a way of control. You're slim and beautiful. Your scars are proof you're a survivor. There is nothing ugly about it. Our bodies change. No one can escape life or time. We're not meant to stay the same."
My body didn't respond to being nude in a room with a man I had started to stupidly fall for. The jaded part of myself forced myself to remember that when this was over, I would just be a fleeting memory, but what he'd shown me would last much longer. I was already too attached to my grumpy Daddy.
"Come here and lie down." He patted the spot beside him.
I hesitated but crawled onto the bed. My stiff movements giving away my insecurity. I laid down on my back and laced my fingers on my chest. My breath caught in my throat as he laid down and his strong hand curled around my bony hip.
"I'm going to spend a lot of time telling you just how perfect you are. Look at me, baby boy."
I opened my eyes and found his face inches from mine. The tip of his nose nudged mine, a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth.
"Now, open for me, baby boy, let Daddy in."
I gasped as his mouth came down on mine, and at that moment, nothing else existed.
Seventeen
Yuri
I woke up with my fingers fisted in the back of my boy's soft hair. We'd fallen asleep talking, and as the night progressed, he'd cuddled closer to me. When we'd gone through his rules last night, I knew he'd been shocked that the rules weren't about sex. Fucking was easy enough, in our modern age of internet and apps, a hook-up was a swipe away. My boy needed something else. He needed intimacy and care, and when I knew we were both free, we'd take that next step. Until then, I had plans for him.
Lifting my head from the thin pillow, I kissed the top of his head. We were going to have to work on this sleeping situation though. But I had to admit I wasn't averse to being his comfort item every night. Especially when I woke up with him draped completely over my body. It was playing hell with my libido, but I was a man who could control myself. He needed to understand he was more than a body to be fucked and abused. That when the time came, his pleasure was the most important thing to me. I wouldn't say I wouldn't show him who owned him, but I wasn't a sadist like the other men in his past.
I eased him off me and rolled off the bed. The sun wasn't up yet, but I needed to get going for the day. West should have all the files for me, and I needed to make contact with Moffett. I was ready to get out of t
his room, and I knew my boy needed some fresh air. He'd been stuck there for two days.
I crossed the room to our bag and chose our clothes for the day. I laid his out on the foot of the bed and took mine into the bathroom to grab a quick shower. After relieving myself, I stood in front of the mirror and used the trimmers to clean up my beard. It had started to turn shaggy. I was just using a razor to clean up my neck as my sleepy boy padded into the bathroom with his eyes barely open.
I finished up as he used the toilet and washed his hands. He wasn't a morning person, especially not without at least a few double espressos in his system. I chuckled as he moved behind me, his arms twined around my waist, and he rested his forehead to the center of my back. My amusement turned to a deep groan as he pushed his smooth skin to mine. He was still warm from bed.
"It's too early."
He whined, and I slipped my left arm behind me and patted his hip.
"I didn't make you get up, little man."
"You got out of bed. I want my body pillow back."
"Unfortunately, we have things to do today."
I felt his pout against my back, and then he was nuzzling me. He drew circles through the hair on my stomach.
"I get to go with you?"
"I think you need some time outside. We need to go to the library to check to see what Moffett has for us. Then we'll meet with West. He's getting me all the files." I wet a rag and cleaned the hair and shaving cream from my face.
I took his left hand and urged him to come around in front of me. Then I easily lifted him onto the counter. He wore only a pair of superhero briefs. His thighs parted as I closed the short distance between us. I lifted my hands to cup his jaw, and my thumbs beneath his chin tipped his head back.
"Will this be over soon?"
"I hope so, and then you can decide what you want to do with your life."
"What's that?"
"Not for me to decide."
"But…but…what if I want you to decide?"
"My sweet, bratty boy, when this is over, if you still want me to make decisions for you, then I'll do so." I lowered my head to kiss the pout of his bottom lip. "But first, we have to work on you finding yourself."
"Am I a project, some good deed to repair some Karmic debt?" His voice rose barely above a whisper. The question was colored with self-doubt and insecurity about whatever was going on between us.
Hell, I wasn't even sure what was going on.
"Do you know why I was so hard on you when West brought you to me?" He shook his head. "My father was a mean motherfucker. He used his fists in place of words…emotion. Mom was completely subservient to him. She had nothing that was her own…not even thoughts. Her life was nothing more than a generational cycle of abuse. Everything about her screamed broken."
"I reminded you of her?"
"In some ways, yes, but it was more than that. The old man only came around enough to use her body and leave when she was no more than an inhuman mass of self-loathing. She accepted the abuse as her destiny. Love to her was the kiss of a fist. Love letters written in blood and bruises. She didn't survive to learn there was more than him. You are going to learn, change, and adapt. Before I make you mine, you're going to discover who you are. What you're worthy of demanding."
"Why are you so nice to me? You saw my file…what he did to me."
"The question isn't why I'm nice to you, say what you really mean."
"You're an ass—"
"None of that, you're deflecting. In your mind, you don't think you're worthy of someone, especially a man being nice to you. Wanting to touch you for reasons other than pain and humiliation. The things I could do to you, baby boy."
A rumble vibrated my throat as I stroked my fingertips down the smooth, flat plane of his chest and stomach. Goosebumps prickled his flesh, and I went lower until I tucked my fingers in the front of his briefs. I felt the puckered edges of scar tissue hidden in the sparse, dark blond curls at the base of his cock. He took the edge of the counter in a white-knuckled grip.
He was waiting for permission to move—to demand. And I wanted to tenderly break him until he begged me for what I knew he needed. We'd danced around this for weeks. Neither of us finding release. I brought my eyes back to his face, took in the slashes of red along his cheekbones and the way his pretty lips parted to allow for his quickened breaths.
I removed his underwear, a gasp escaped as his bare ass met the cool countertop. His dick fit perfectly in my hand. I fisted my free hand in his hair and jerked his head back. I barely pressed my lips to his as I jacked him.
"Da—" He brutally bit into his bottom lip to keep it in.
"Say it, baby boy, we both know who I am." My cock ached, fought against the confines of my boxer briefs, but he wouldn't get fucked by Daddy until I deemed him ready.
"Daddy," he whined as his body betrayed his caution, and he fucked my fist. The tip of his cock wet where it met my belly.
"Fuck, boy, I could get off just watching you. Look at me."
He opened his eyes and his gaze locked with mine. His thighs shook where they gripped my hips. Every want and need was right there in his eyes—every dream he was too terrified to voice. Without warning, his arms twined around my neck and wetness covered my lower stomach and hand as his hips stuttered as he found his release. A scream muffled against the side of my neck.
I let go of his dick and hugged him to me as he rutted in circles on my abdomen. I pulled back enough until my mouth could find his and we shared lazy kisses. My cock and balls ached, my body wanted the orgasm I denied myself. He was warm and relaxed in my arms. His lips curving into a tiny smile, and that was enough for me. This had been for him—pleasure given without pain or expectation.
"Did Daddy make you feel good?"
He hummed an affirmative and held onto me with all the strength he possessed in his slim body. A body I really wanted to take back to bed and love on like the world outside didn't exist. We didn't have time for that. We'd have plenty later when we were both free and he'd made his choice when it wasn't colored by gratitude or isolation. When this job was over, I'd set him free and let him come to me.
"Ready for the day, baby boy?"
"Nap time."
"No time for a nap, you can lay back down until I'm done getting ready and then it's your turn."
I lifted him from the sink and carried him back to bed. I laid him down and gruffly laughed as he tried to hold on when I attempted to straighten.
"Behave, and you might get some more playtime when we're done for the day."
As he was sprawling on the bed, he arched his beautiful body and tried to tempt me to join him. As much as I wanted to, I forced myself away, returning to the bathroom to strip out of my underwear. I didn't wait for the water to warm and stepped under the cold spray.
I needed to break the cycle of his past abuse, but I was close to shattering myself. He was there for the taking and claiming. I could make him mine with a single word. I couldn't, though. I wanted his mind clear of fear and regret, to make the healthiest decision for himself. Playing with him even a little was drawing close to crossing a line. I never said I wasn't selfish—his first real pleasure was mine. No other man would ever have that, and it would always belong to me whether he was my little when this ended or not.
Eighteen
Josh
I couldn't help that my mind kept wandering back to what happened in the bathroom that morning. The touches he gave me took on new significance. I'd waited for him to demand I return the favor, but he'd just carried me to bed and went to shower. It was getting harder to remember that when this was over, he was going to let me go. That his care and lessons were only to teach me to demand what I deserved.
Unfortunately, what my brain and body told me I deserved was him. We were seated in a back corner that put the entrance in sight and an exit a few feet away. Like we'd done the last time, I seated myself on his thigh and typed in what he requested. Adding a few searches of my own. The one email
he'd received was Moffett naming a time and a new place to meet later that night. Another address situated in an alley off a main strip where there was nothing but bars and clubs, a few cheap motels, and a couple abandoned warehouses. Still far enough away from our hideout that Yuri didn't seem worried.
We'd have to find a payphone to find out where West wanted to meet. We had less than two weeks before the case was declared a mistrial and it would be knocked back until new evidence was found.
I wished I could believe that would be the end, but I knew my death was the only way it stopped. I sighed as his broad chest met my back, and he pressed his lips just beneath my ear.
"Use your words."
"I don't know anything else. What happens if I need to run?"
"Then you'll adapt."
"I don't want to leave, you're here."
His hand came to rest on my opposite cheek and turned me to look at him. "Listen, your decisions can't be made because of me. In the end, it has to be what's best for you. And if leaving is best, that's what you'll do."
"You're telling me what I'm going to do."
"Chin up, my bratty boy. It'll work out like it's supposed to. Now, quit pouting and get to work."
I huffed and froze as the screen filled with a picture of Vernon. Perfectly groomed and wearing an expensive suit. Nothing about him screamed abuser or predator, who was suffering now that he didn't have me as a target?
"What's wrong?"
"He doesn't look like a monster. But I know how vicious he can be. Does he already have a replacement?"
"You can't worry about that. Right now, he's being watched too closely."
"He thinks he's above the law."
