Page 43 of Knox's Boy

He hesitated, his fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. “What if Mrs. Gable or other staff come…?”

"Florian." Just his name but loaded with expectation.

He walked over slowly, each step reluctant. He was pouting a little, holding the hem of his shirt with both hands, and I had to admit it was the cutest thing. When he reached me, I took his wrist, guiding him to stand between my knees. I looked up at him, holding his gaze steadily.

"Tell me why this rule matters."

His eyes flicked away, then back to mine. "Because... because you worry. And because if something did happen to me, you'd know where to start looking."

I nodded, pleased with his understanding despite his resistance. "That's right. Now, do you know what happens when you break a rule?"

He shifted his weight, a flush creeping up his neck. "Yes, Daddy."

"Tell me."

"I... I get a spanking," he whispered, the words almost inaudible.

"That's right." I released his wrist and patted my thigh. "Jeans down, over my knee."

His fingers trembled slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down to mid-thigh. I waited patiently, allowing him to move at his own pace. This was not a rushed act of anger but a deliberate consequence, administered with purpose and care. When he finally draped himself over my lap, I took a moment to settle him properly, ensuring his weight was balanced, his upper body supported by the couch.

"Why are you being punished?" I asked, my hand resting lightly on the curve of his boxer-clad backside.

"Because I didn't text you when I left campus," he mumbled into the cushion.

"And why is that important?"

"Because you need to know I'm safe."

"That's right." I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, drawing them down to join his jeans. He tensed slightly at the exposure but didn't protest.

I raised my hand and brought it down with a sharp crack. The sound echoed in the quiet room, followed by his gasp.

I established a rhythm, methodical and firm. Each slap left a pink imprint on his pale skin. By the tenth stroke, his body was tensing with each impact. I paused, rubbing gentle circles on his reddened flesh, then I resumed, my hand falling a bit harder now.

“I'm very sorry, Daddy,” he said while I kept spanking him.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” I said, but didn't stop. I kept spanking him, and now he was sobbing quietly, his body gone limp across my lap. I kept going, measured but relentless, until the pale skin under my palm was a bright, angry red, mottled at the edges and radiating heat.

"I was worried about you," I said, punctuating my words with sharp slaps. "I need you to take this seriously, little one."

"I will," he hiccupped, his voice breaking with each impact. "I promise, Daddy."

By the time I paused again, Florian was trembling, the tears streaming down his face. He made no effort to move; instead, he lay slumped and compliant, all the brattiness burned out of him.

I left my hand on him, applying gentle, grounding pressure to the small of his back. "Color?" I asked, my voice softened by love.

He choked out, "Green," so ragged and raw I felt it in my own chest. He was trembling, but he didn't pull away when I strokedup the line of his spine, or when I pushed the hair off his damp cheek.

I didn't immediately pull him up. Instead, I soothed the heated skin with gentle strokes, feeling the tension melt from his body.

"It's over," I murmured, running my hand up his spine to rest at the nape of his neck. "You did so well, little one. So well for me."

He shuddered under my touch with relief. I helped him stand, then guided him back onto my lap, this time cradled against my chest. He curled into me, his face pressed into the crook of my neck, his tears dampening my collar. I held him close, one hand stroking his hair, the other wrapped securely around his waist.

"Shh," I soothed as he continued to cry softly. "It's done."

Gradually, his tears subsided, replaced by a different kind of shuddering as my hand moved from his hair to trace the line of his jaw. His skin was flushed, his pupils dilated when he finally looked up at me. The disciplinary moment had shifted, as it often did, into something else entirely.