Page 40 of Knox's Boy

Florian's fingers traced the embossed lettering on the cover, and he glanced up at me through his lashes.

"House Rules and Daily Schedule?" He read aloud, his tone wary. "That sounds... intense."

"Open it," I instructed, leaning back in my chair.

He did, flipping through the pages with increasing disbelief. I'd been thorough: wake-up times, study hours, meal schedules, chores, curfew, hygiene requirements, exercise regimen, phone check-ins, spending allowances, general respect rules, all meticulously laid out. No room for misinterpretation.

"So I'm basically your pet now?" Florian's lips quirked into a smirk. That little brat. "What's next? A collar with a little bell so you know where I am at all times?"

I leaned forward, closing the space between us. My voice dropped to a commanding rumble.

"That’s not a bad idea. And you're my boy, and boys need structure." I reached across the table, wrapping my fingers firmly around his wrist. I could feel his pulse fluttering against my thumb. "What you've lacked all your life is consistent boundaries. I'm providing those now."

A shiver ran through him at my touch. He looked down at where my hand circled his wrist. When he met my eyes again, the bratty facade had slipped just enough to reveal the hunger beneath.

"These are... a lot of rules," he murmured, but he didn't pull his arm away. Instead, he turned the page with his free hand, scanning the section on academic expectations.

"Is there anything specific you don't understand or agree with?" I asked, maintaining my grip. It seemed to anchor him, and I watched his breathing slow to match mine.

"The study schedule," he pointed to a carefully blocked out timetable. "Three hours every day? That's insane."

"Is it?" I raised an eyebrow. "You're taking eighteen credits this semester. You need consistent study habits to excel, not last-minute cramming fueled by energy drinks. Besides, you won't be working. Your only job is your degree."

He huffed, but there was no real resistance behind it. His eyes moved to the next section.

"What's this about text check-ins?" he asked, his finger tapping a bullet point.

"You will text me when you arrive at campus, when you leave, and if your plans change." My tone brooked no argument. "It's non-negotiable."

"That's crazy," Florian muttered, but the protest was a performance of resistance he clearly didn't feel. The way his eyes lingered on the words, rereading them as if to commit them to memory, told me everything I needed to know.

"It's about safety," I explained, softening my voice slightly. "So I know you're where you're supposed to be, and so you know someone is watching out for you."

Something flickered across his face. Recognition, relief, acceptance. It all happened before he masked it with another eye-roll.

"And these... consequences?" He'd flipped to the last page, where I'd outlined what would happen when rules were broken. "Seriously?"

"Actions have consequences," I stated simply. "Break minor rules, lose privileges. Break bigger rules, you'll find yourself over my knee. You already know how that feels."

His cheeks flushed pink, the color spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. The memory of our last disciplinary session hung in the air between us.

“Can I get a spanking even if I don’t break any rules?” he asked with his cheekiest smile. I felt my heart racing.

“Of course. Those will feel nicer, though, as rewards. The ones for punishments will be… less pleasant.”

He rolled his eyes again.

“There’s a rule about eye-rolling in the part about general respect,” I pointed out. He rolled his eyes again, just to test the waters. I let him, as he hadn’t agreed to all of the rules yet. This time.

"What if I don't want all these rules?" he challenged, but his voice lacked conviction. His fingers were still tracing the lines of text.

"You need them," I said, releasing his wrist at last to reach across and lift his chin with one finger. "And I know you want them. But if you really want to discuss limits, let me know."

He held my gaze for a long moment, as if searching for something, a sign of doubt, perhaps, or a hint that I might back down. He found neither.

"Fine," he conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "I'll play along. And if I follow all these rules?" he asked quietly.

"Then you'll thrive," I promised. "And I'll make sure you know exactly how proud I am of you."