“Brandon!”
“What?” I yelled as I felt my heart begin to pound. She instantly made my blood pressure soar.
“I’ve been following your posts on Instagram. The pictures you’re posting with him have me concerned,” she fumed.
“Why?” I was so angry that I pounded my fist on the table, causing everything on it to jump. “What I post is my business. If you have a problem with what I post, don’t fucking follow me. Simple as that.”
“Watch your mouth!”
“Why? I’m an adult.”
“Brandon, I’m concerned about what your relationship is with that man.”
I shrugged at her concern.
“What does it matter? You were the one who arranged for me to talk to him way back in tenth grade; don’t blame me.”
“Fine, Brandon. Look, whatever your relationship is, I don’t care. I’m asking you to be cautious of what you’re posting to your Instagram account. Remember, there are still people in the modeling industry that follow that account and will see what you’ve become.”
What?
“What have I become?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Honestly, I didn’t want to have this conversation. But since you’re an adult as you keep preaching, we can have the conversation. My agent says that you are bad for my reputation. Modeling jobs are tougher and tougher to get anymore at my age, and I don’t need modeling agents seeing my son’s Instagram pics of him lying shirtless by a pool with a man more than twice his age.”
For whatever reason, tears welled up in my eyes. I was at a loss of what to say, but I had heard enough. Without another word, I hung the phone up and went to the bathroom to look for anything that might make a satisfactory cut. I hadn’t cut myself since the weekend before Elijah discovered it in his office last spring. I had made it months without a cut, but I needed it now.
I found Elijah’s small sewing repair kit and opened it in haste. A small paperboard that had several dark-colored threads wrapped around it came flying from the shallow box. I spotted the scissors and didn’t even bother making sure they were clean before I sat on the bathroom floor with them. Desperate to relieve the emotional anguish, I pressed the tip of one of the blades into my thigh, and as I felt the initial pain, I leaned my head against the wall. I closed my eyes and focused on my erratic breathing until it calmed. Just as I about had it under control, I heard Eli’s voice.
“What’s this all about, Brandon?” he said from the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. I looked up at him, feeling guilty about what I had just done. “Come on, get up.”
With blood slowly running down my thigh, I pushed myself up off the ground and reached for the tissues to hold over my cut. My heart pounded in my chest while I waited for him to speak again. I could see the disappointment and disgust on his face, and I could tell that he was trying to reign in his anger.
“Someone could use a spanking,” he sternly said.
I was all for this and followed him to his room. Embarrassed, I was semi-hard by the time we got to his bedroom, and I only became harder when he told me to get on my hands and knees.
“I think the nice wooden paddle will be good for you today,” he called out from his walk-in closet.
Eagerly, I waited for his return. I dropped my head and glanced down my body. My dick was hard and stretched the fabric of my maroon boxer briefs. Elijah stood beside me, took hold of the waistband of my boxer briefs and yanked them down, freeing my hard-on. He smacked my ass a few times, just as I liked it. As soon as the paddle hit my ass, he started talking to me.
“What upset you, Brandon?”
“My mom,” I admitted after the third smack from the paddle.
“What did you and I decide was best for you?”
“To ignore her.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No,” I replied as my body was forced forward.
“Did she text?”
“No. She called.”
“And you answered?”
