I grinned and resisted the urge to bounce in my seat.
“No Triple X. Not yet. If we’re going to play, we’ll do it here at first, where you know it’ll be clean because I’ll make you clean it, boy. Do you know why I’ll do that?” His voice turned into melted chocolate, hot and steamy.
“Because I like cleanliness?” I offered, unsure.
“No. It’ll be punishment for lying to me about Vic.”
“Oh.” I flushed but didn’t tell him it wasn’t much of a punishment. I thought he might have already known that and was calling it a punishment to make me feel better about my urges for orderliness.
“Are you going to apologize?” He slid his hand down my back and rested it close to my ass.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled and shook his head, his auburn hair gleaming with red in the firelight. “That doesn’t sound much like an apology, boy. The first rule you need to know about being my boy is that you must call me Daddy at all times, except at work and in front of colleagues.”
I nodded furiously. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good, now try again. Apologize to me for lying.” He tapped me on the back.
I straightened myself against him and dramatically cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, Daddy, that I lied to you about Vic. I hoped that you’d be jealous enough towantme, and it was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the lips, and I sighed into him. “That’s a good apology, boy. I appreciate it, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of your punishment. We will discuss this further at a later time. Right now I want to have a talk that should have happened before we had sex and before I spanked you.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
He took a deep breath and sat up, not bringing me with him, so I was half lying on the couch instead of against his warm body. I straightened as well. “Daddy-and-boy play is a Dom and sub relationship. We should have talked about limits and safewords before now. I am a lot of things, boy, but I do not play unsafely.”
“I don’t have limits,” I said quickly, but he held up his hand to me.
“I don’t believe that. I want you to think about this very carefully, and if you don’t, I will put you in that corner—” He paused to point at the right corner of the sitting room. “—to think about it more seriously. Limits are integral to a lasting relationship. When I take on a sub, I expect honesty and full-time commitment. I’m not usually the kind of person who plays short-term.”
“Me either.” I flushed hot again and ran my palms over my cheeks. “I mean, you know I was a virgin before we had sex. I don’t want a bang-and-go relationship. I’ve always wanted something meaningful.”
He cuddled close again, and I leaned into him. Curling my arm around his stomach, I laid my head on his shoulder. “Good. So tell me, what are limits you can think of right now that you wouldn’t like? Be honest with me.”
“Um….” I frowned deeply before it became clear in my mind, like a lightbulb being switched on. “Messiness. Anything that’s messy, like piss.”
He hummed. “I don’t like watersports or scat either, so we can definitely put that on the list of kinks we won’t touch.”
I turned my head slightly and kissed the skin of his neck, or at least the visible parts above the collar of his shirt. “I’m not sure if this could be called a limit, but I… don’t like to be upset about clutter. I realize now that I can’t help it, but I’d like everything to be the way I organize it, please.”
He kissed my forehead, and my stomach fluttered with adoration. “That is a limit, and I will try very hard to remember how you organize things and leave it that way, but I might get it wrong, and if I do, you need to tell me, boy. I won’t know unless you do.”
I smiled. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Which brings me to the next topic. I want you to see a psychologist.”
“What?” I shot backward, nearly falling off the couch in the process. “I can’t.”
“You can’t?” He raised his brows at me. “Why not? You admit that you have an issue, boy, and a psychologist can help.”
I stumbled to my feet, and he followed me, although more slowly, like he was dealing with a wild animal he was trying to tame. “Because I’m a Kalinski. I could never see a psychologist. If it got out to my Dad and Mom’s friends, they’d never forgive me. They’d disown me.” My shoulders slumped and I sent him a sad look. “I have a reputation to uphold, Daddy.”
He frowned and closed in on me, touching my upper arms and squeezing them. “Not everything is about them, Max. You matter, too, and you need help I can’t give you.”
“But you can. If you just leave things the way I organize them—”
“It doesn’t work like that. Outside in the real world, you can’t control what other people do.” He squeezed my arms again, this time harder. “Your OCD can impede your work. How many times did I see you take out a staple because it wasn’t perfect?”
