Their Boy (The Game 2)

Oh, he was going to make me cry. I sniffled and wrung my hands awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Daddy. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t—and you know why? Because Luke and I will make sure of it,” he said, folding the belt in his hand. “Put your hands on the counter and push out that ass.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. He moved the stools aside so I could take that space, and I gripped the edge of the counter. Arms straight, elbows locked into place, and I was bent over enough that he would have all the access to my butt he wanted.

“Read the note for me, Kit.”

I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to!

I blinked back the emotions that were already threatening to spill over. “Good morning, sweet boy. Just reminding you to put on your lotion. Please do this right after breakfast if you haven’t done it already. See you tonight. Kisses, Lucas.”

I tensed up as Colt ran his belt over my butt.

“Please do this right after breakfast,” Colt quoted. “Where in this note did you decide that maybe Luke meant it was okay for you to do it tonight?”

I hung my head in shame and screwed my eyes shut. “I disobeyed,” I whispered.

“Yes, you did.”

A second later, a loud thwack flew through the air, and it felt like the skin of my butt cracked open. I swallowed the scream, a whimper slipping out instead.

“Read the note again.”

“G-Good morning, sweet boy. Just reminding you to p-put on your lotion. Please do this right after breakfast if you haven’t done it already. See you to—gah!”

He struck me a second time.

“Again, Kit.”

“Ow,” I whimpered. “Good morning, s-sweet boy. J-Just reminding you to put on your lotion. Please do this right after breakfast if— Ow, Daddy!”

“That sentence—the one you just read. Do that one again.”

I drew in a ragged breath and tried to push down the fiery pain that was spreading. “Pl-Please do this right after breakfast.”

“After” thwack “fuckin’” thwack “breakfast.”

The pain tore a sob from me, then another and another. It hurt so badly. I didn’t know how much more I could take. What if he hit a more sensitive spot—no, wait. He wouldn’t. Even in my wretched state, I could tell he was being mindful of where he beat me.

Colt was far from done. He had me read from the note over and over, and he struck me with the belt across my butt, down on my thighs, and up on my butt again. Tears were streaming down my face, and I was shaking like a leaf.

“Luke and I both love it when you’re bratty and mischievous,” Colt told me. “But when we tell you to do somethin’, it ain’t a suggestion. Those are orders, and we don’t tolerate disobedience.”

“I’m s-sorry, Daddy,” I sobbed.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

My hoarse scream pierced the air.

One more. A forceful strike. Then he stopped the beating, and the belt landed on the counter with a clank from the buckle. But before relief could set in, he was kneading the flesh of my butt—hard. Spreading the cheeks, squeezing, digging his fingers in.

“Why do you think Lucas told you to put on the lotion?” he asked. His voice came from somewhere else; he was lower, down on the floor. He’d taken a knee.

I choked and wiped my cheek on my shoulder. “Because he c-cares.” And I was so stupid! My torso was itchy and sweaty, and it felt like I had bugs crawling under my skin.

“That’s right.” Daddy leaned closer. I felt his warm breaths hitting my ouchy places, and then he used his tongue. Softly and wetly, he swiped the tip of his tongue over my opening.

I let out a whimper. He fucked with my head. Those sensations had no place in this moment. There was only pain and suffering, and now… I didn’t know what was happening.

“It ain’t nice to defy someone when they’re lookin’ out for you, is it?”

I shook my head, a rush of grief washing over me. “I’m so, so sorry. I got excited about r-r-redecorating.”

“I know, baby. And there’s no reason you can’t do both.” He grabbed two fistfuls of my ass, squeezed so fucking hard, and pushed his tongue inside me.

“Ahh!” I couldn’t take it anymore. The hurt was too overpowering. “Daddy, p-please s-stop!”

At the same time, a thick fog of mindfucky dizziness and need rolled in. It short-circuited my brain.

Daddy alternated between tongue-fucking me and torturing me. At one point, he dragged his scruffy chin across my butt cheeks, and my knees buckled. He had to hold me up. I could barely breathe. Gasps and sobs racked my body.

“Do you get it now, Kit? Playtime comes after you’ve done your chores. Dessert comes after you’ve eaten all your vegetables.”

I was out of air, and speaking was officially impossible. I managed a nod while I choked; that was it.