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“I know you’re scared.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, forcing me to share his heated air. “But you’re here. That means part of you already knows what your body is begging for.”

I gave him a small, terrified, irrevocable nod.

George’s grip tightened on the back of my neck, just enough to make me feel entirely claimed. A low, satisfied growl rumbled deep in his chest. “Say it.”

My breath caught in my throat. “I want you. It doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“Good boy.”

The praise hit me like a physical slap, warm, humiliating, and so incredibly arousing that my cock twitched hard against my zipper.

He kissed me then, slow, deep, and thoroughly filthy. His tongue claimed my mouth like he already owned every single breath inside my lungs. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were blown out, almost black with lust.

My fingers trembled as they curled under the hem of my hoodie. But before I could pull the fabric up, George’s hand clamped around my wrist, stopping me instantly.

“Wait. Did I tell you to strip?” His voice dropped into a calm, commanding register that made my insides melt. “We’re doing this properly. No rushing blind.”

He released my wrist and stepped back, crossing his arms over his powerful chest. The low lamplight carved deep shadows across every cut of his muscle. “Rules first. You listen. You obey. You speak only when I ask you a direct question or when you need your safeword. You address me as Sir when we’re in the scene.”

“I’m not calling you Sir,” I snapped, a desperate spark of defiance flaring even as my length throbbed.

George’s hand shot out, fisting my hair tightly and yanking my head back, making me gasp. “Yes, you will. In the scene, you call me Sir. Outside of it, you can call me George; a privilege I can revoke at any time.” His eyes bored into mine. “¿Comprendes, Santiago?”

I fumed. The Spanish felt like an intimate threat, and my name on his lips felt like a tight leash, but my body was completely betraying me. I was painfully hard now, leaking steadily against my denim.

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, my voice thick.

“Good. You will not touch yourself without permission. You will not come without permission. Kneel.”

My body obeyed before my mind could even process the command. The hardwood floor of the cabin was cold and unforgiving against my knees, and the gentle rolling of the water beneath the hull made the ground feel completely unsteady.

He tilted my chin up with two fingers. “Your safeword is ‘Red.’ Yellow to slow down. Green if you want more. I will push you. I will hurt you. I will make you cry and leak and beg. But I will never truly damage you. And I will always take care of what’s mine afterward.”

George loomed over me, one massive hand settling on top of my head, his fingers threading possessively through my dark hair. “Lower your eyes.”

I dropped my gaze to the floor, my cheeks burning.

“Color?”

“Green,” I breathed.

“Good boy.” His voice was like dark honey. “Eyes down unless I tell you otherwise. When I give a command, you respond with ‘Yes, Sir’ or your safeword. If something feels wrong, you use it immediately. No toughing it out. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” My breathing had gone entirely shallow.

“Any hard limits right now?” he asked. The question surprised me; I hadn’t expected that level of decency from George Brooks. “Use your words,” he commanded firmly.

I looked up, meeting his gaze one last time. “No blood. No permanent marks. No sharing,” I whispered. His eyes darkened with raw, territorial possession.

“I said lower your eyes.”

I dropped my gaze back to his boots immediately.

“Good. Now stand up and strip. Slowly. Let me see every inch of what belongs to me.”

My legs shook violently as I stood up. My hands felt entirely weak as I pulled the hoodie over my head, followed by my t-shirt. The cool air of the cabin kissed my heated skin. I shoved my jeans and briefs down in one fluid motion, kicking them aside. My cock sprang free, flushed and fully erect, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Bruises from the club still marked my hips and thighs like dark fingerprints, exposed entirely under his watchful eye.