Chapter 6: The Kitchen Counter Confrontation
The words *good boy* send a jolt through him, a filthy, forbidden thrill that makes his cock jerk inside his pajama pants. His bare feet shuffle on the clean tile, the socks doing little to soften the humiliation of standing before her like this, his humiliation a second skin.
“You read them,” she says, nodding at the paper in his hand. “You know what it means if you break them.”
He nods, the movement jerky. “Yes. Yes, Mistress.”
The title shouldn’t sound so natural on his lips. It shouldn’t feel like a balm to the raw, shameful ache in his chest.