The Shepherd (The Game 6)

I chuckled and pulled up one knee on the cushion to face him better. “I reckon that’s a good reason to add more.”

He smiled a little. I could tell he was nervous too. I’d asked him to stop by to discuss changes to our arrangement, and it’d hit me way too late that it wasn’t a good approach with someone who was autistic. The worry of not knowing if something was wrong could cause anxiety to just about anyone—and even more so if the person had autism. But he hadn’t pressed for details.

“I can see you want me to get right to it, so I will,” I said. “I like playing with you, Corey. I think we have good chemistry, and you seem to enjoy the kind of pain I like to administer. You’re equal parts bold and cautious in the playroom.”

I did love to push boundaries and make a sub see what they’d missed out on. And while Corey had plenty of experience for his young age of almost twenty-four, he could “eep!” nervously at the sight of an implement he’d never seen before, much like a newbie would.

“My problem is aftercare,” I admitted. “I’ve seen you take countless beatings at events, but when I’m the one wielding the whip, the play isn’t over until I know you’re all right. You can assure me a dozen times that you feel awesome, to use your word from our first session, but I have to see it for myself before you walk out of the room.”

He chewed on his bottom lip and hugged his knees to his chest, which fucked with my worries. The last thing that boy needed was to make himself even smaller. He was what, five-six, five-seven? Seeing him looking troubled made me doubt we were compatible, despite the good chemistry, because I wasn’t a Daddy. When I saw a young man vulnerable and possibly even lost, it didn’t wake up an urge in me to be there for him. It made me wanna find the boy’s parents and tell them to put their kid on a leash.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, pet.” I needed to know what was going on inside his head.

“I’m thinking…I wouldn’t mind staying longer,” he said slowly, processing. “I liked it when you hugged me really hard and wiped away my tears.”

See, that right there. Fuck. That’s what was so damn fantastic. I’d liked that part too. I loved it. A good Sadist didn’t just break his masochist; he put the masochist back together too. I wasn’t sure I could do the first thing and not the other. Holding Corey for those brief seconds after I’d gone through half a toy cabinet of whips, floggers, and paddles on his ass had been a healing experience. It always was.

“The thing is,” he went on hesitantly, “my Daddy wants to handle my aftercare. That’s his rule with all his Littles.”

All his what the fuck?

I furrowed my brow. “How many Littles does he have? I thought y’all were strictly monogamous.”

“I’m strictly monogamous with him—as his primary partner. But to be the best Daddy he can be for me, he has to challenge himself and grow, so he has a few other partners.” He spoke so frankly that it took me aback. This, to Corey, was a simple fact. In order to be a good Top, Marcus had to be with others. Why—to get inspiration from outside the boundaries of their relationship? What the fuck. “I’m not sure one of them counts, though. That’s an online thing with a guy in Texas.”

Jesus Christ.

“Are you happy with that dynamic?” Before I sounded the alarm, I had to know. I had to listen. People had all kinds of relationships today.

“I love my Daddy very much.” Corey smiled and shrugged. “He’s the best Daddy in the world—and I trust him. This is the perfect dynamic for us. He says so.”

Yeah…sorry, kid, but that raised all the red flags I had in my arsenal.

It was my obligation to bring this up with the other founding members. Hell, it was in our informal version of a creed, a private agreement of values that’d created the foundation of our community. If we suspected anyone was in danger, whether it was physical violence or, the way it sounded in Corey’s case, a matter of grooming and micromanaging, we had a responsibility to protect a potential victim.

We’d done it before, most recently with River and Reese’s new partner, Shay.

In the meantime, I had to keep Corey close.

I rubbed my forehead and threw a glance at the empty sheet in the notebook on the table. This changed everything.

Thank fuck our arrangement was nonsexual. I couldn’t imagine keeping up appearances if our connection had run deeper.

“So what’s the time limit set by Marcus?” I asked. I’d referred to him as Corey’s Daddy for the last time. He wasn’t a fucking Daddy Dom. “How long can you stay with me after a scene before he thinks it’s time for you to go home?”