“You’re testing me. That’s fine. Either way, whether you correct yourself or not, you’ll be getting what you want; attention. But one choice will be significantly more unpleasant and memorable than the other. Five seconds.”
Shit…why are his threats making it even better? I’m so fucked in the head.
“Four.” His eyes start to shine, and even though his expression is as flat as ever, I get the sense that he’s getting excited, too. That maybe we’rebothfucked in the head and into this.
“Three.” We’re locked in a staring contest, now. I can’t catch my breath, I’m starting to lose feeling in my extremities. I think I might vomit. I want this so bad.
“Two.” He takes a step forward, and closes the bathroom door, locking us in. The click of the knob makes my knees wobble, and my cock perks up a little like this is sexual when it clearly isn’t, and fuck me, I’m so confused.
“One.”
Silence. My mouth is hanging open, I’m poised to run but I’m not going anywhere. I don’t think I’ve blinked since he started counting from thirty. Neither has he.
“Alright, Tommy.” His voice is so smooth, so infuriatingly, humiliatingly calm. “Go to that cabinet under the sink, and pull out a new bar of soap.”
My stomach flip-flops and I think I lose a few seconds of time in a full-on blackout caused by an emotional reaction I’m not even going totryto unpack. “What if–” I lick my lips, my voice a weak whisper. “What if I don’t?”
His smile is lopsided, almost boyishly charming, like he’s genuinely amused with me. He doesn’t even bother telling me a consequence. We both know I will. He already said it, loud and clear–he and I both know I wanted this.
I wanted this proof.
Proof that he isn’t just bullshitting me, that he’s honest, that he means what he says. That this isn’t about taking anything from me, but giving something back.
I swallow hard, and do as I’m told.
There’s a basket under the sink filled with unopened products. Shampoo bottles, tightly wrapped hand towels, facial masks, but the stack of unopened boxes of soap catches my eye. My fingers tremble as I grab the top one.
Standing again makes me so dizzy I almost sway, like my blood is moving so fast that the pressure is off in my head, and I might just pass out.
I turn to him, but he stays where he is, leaning against the door. He holds out his palm. Still not moving, at least ten feet away. Silently ordering me to go to him with the object he’s about to use to correct my bad behavior.
My cheeks are burning hot, and I think even my back is sweating. I’ve never been into humiliation, and this feels an awful lot like that, but shit… I… I hate it, but I don’t. Hate it so,somuch, but I don’t. I can’t stop an audible, trembling groan that slips out with a particularly heavy breath, right before my first step in his direction.
I thought the first step would break the barrier, so to speak, and make the rest easier, but that isn’t true. It’s the opposite. Getting closer to him feels like we’re two of the same kind of magnet trying to push each other back. Everything in my body resists me, and also spurs me on. I’ve never been so confused. But I want this.
I put the box on his palm and swallow hard again because I’m salivating already. The knowledge that soap is about to be in my mouth is making my spit glands hyperactive, and I know that’ll only make it worse as the soap dissolves on my tongue.
It’s gonna be nasty, and humiliating. I’m pretty sure I’ll drool.
So why is my cock half-hard, and not getting soft the way it always does? And why am I standing right in front of him, not fighting, or punching, or escaping, as he slowly opens the little cardboard box? Why do I let him guide me to the mirror, where he stands behind me? And why, when I realize that he’s about tomake me stare at myself while I do this, does that make me want it even more?
Daddy stuff is so much more complicated than I thought. And this isn’t even real Daddy stuff, we aren’t having sex or anything. It’s just Young-gi being… himself, I guess.
“You lied.” The rumble of his voice sends a shiver down my spine and I grip the counter in front of my hips, grateful that I can lean forward against it and hide my half-hard cock. “I think you woke up a little off-center this morning. I think you needed some help getting right again, and you didn’t know how to ask for it.”
“I don’t need anything.” I can’tnotsay that. It’s the truth. It has to be true.
He ignores my lame interjection. “You got put in the corner last night like a ch–like a little boy.” He pauses. He was about to say child, but changed it when I flinched. He waits, watching and assessing my reaction to the replacement. I nod tightly, and he gives me a hum of approval. “Good boy. Where was I?”
“Corner time,” I choke out.
“Oh, right,” he smiles, and he’s such an evil bastard but I think I might like it. “So you woke up feeling metaphorically spanked and needed to see if I still meant all that, hm? I don’t mind you testing me, Tommy. But if you’re going to keep pushing and asking me for more attention like this, I’ll need a word that tells me if I get it wrong. A safe word. Open your mouth.”
I’m trembling all the way down to my lungs as I part my lips. First only a tiny bit, then a little more. Seeing myself do it, watching myself submit to this, makes it so much worse and better. He’s watching me, but not in the mirror. He’s looking down on me for real, and leans over my shoulder so he can watch as he slides the dry bar of bright pink soap into my mouth.
“Hold that,” he says, and his breath brushes my neck, raising goosebumps.
I close my lips around it, put my teeth gently against it, and immediately taste the stringent flavor. I wrinkle my nose, then straighten it out. Something in my nature demands that I try to get through this without showing how it’s affecting me, so I’m gonna try, even though I already have a feeling that Young-gi will make sure that I fail.
