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The boy would do anything Linc wanted, he knew it in a way he’d never be able to explain to another soul. Wyatt was his; his to kiss, his to fuck, his to protect and discipline.
“You finished misbehaving?” Linc asked. “I don’t know,” he heard himself say, his voice sounding far away. He swore Linc chuckled before he delivered another three slaps. “How about now?” Wyatt wiped his face against his forearm, bracing it against the door. His limbs felt heavy and numb. “Yes,” he mumbled. The barest hint of a slap had Wyatt hissing. “How do you address me?” “Sir?” “Wrong answer,” Linc growled. “You know what I am. Say it.” “Daddy,” Wyatt whispered, every nerve ending standing at attention. “Yes, Daddy.”
“If we do this, I expect complete obedience. You belong to me in every sense of the word. When we’re alone, I own you; you exist just to please me. If I want you, I take you. You come only when I feel you’ve earned it, and if you disobey me, you will be punished severely. Is that understood?”
stomach. It didn’t work. Nothing in Wyatt’s imagination felt the way cutting did. Nothing relieved the pressure the way a sharp edge did.
“Do you remember the day you flooded the kitchen?” Linc asked huskily. “Yeah,” was all he could manage. “We were just like this. You were frantic…indignant…acting like the dishwasher had betrayed you. I wanted you even then. You were beautiful. Spoiled. A total brat. You were absolute perfection.”
He wished he could get his heart to see this for what it was, but he just didn’t know how. When he was in Linc’s arms, it didn’t feel like a fling. It felt like love, and it made Wyatt want to cry.
