CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Aidan
My days off had switched around this week because another surgeon was on vacation. It was a busy day for Finley. He’d taken care of his morning chores, then pouted and tried to stay home with me instead of going to school, which he’d started when the semester began in January, at one of the local community colleges. We were shocked everything wasn’t full, but we’d gotten lucky. He was taking two classes, which was a surprise since I’d said he only had to take one. The boy had made sure his classes were late enough in the day that he could do his household duties on Tuesdays and Thursdays before going in. I’d tried to give him those mornings off, but he’d begged me to keep his schedule, and I’d allowed it. He had a way of getting what he wanted with me that I wasn’t proud of. David teased me about it mercilessly.
But the truth was, I knew he needed it. While I wanted Finley to have an education, a backup plan, as of yet, nothing fulfilled him the way serving did. It was in his bones, swam around deep in the marrow. It was as much a part of him as his DNA. The more time he spent with me, the more I saw it. He desired to serve and to be taken care of. There was no changing it, not that I wanted to. Changing him wasn’t what going to school was about. He deserved options; I wanted him to have the opportunities my mother was never allowed to have.
And frankly, as the months passed, I saw that he liked attending his classes more than he wanted to admit. He’d tell me things he’d learned, and boast about scores on exams, and speak about his fellow students. So yes, I believed I was doing right by him, and I planned to continue on the same path, even if I wanted to possess him in every way.
Shaking those thoughts from my head, I glanced over to see it was almost time for Finley to get out of class. A smile pulled at my lips when I thought of the way he had been rushing around the house that morning, trying to clean, exercise, eat breakfast, and do all the things he was supposed to do before leaving. I couldn’t say what made me do it exactly—whether I wanted to reward him, or just spent time with him, or show him off publicly, as we didn’t often do—but I picked up my phone and sent him a text: Come straight home today.
There was a ten-minute delay, and I knew it was because his class was still in session. I forbade him to be on his cell phone when he was supposed to be learning.
Yes, Sir…but it’s grocery shopping day.
Again, I smiled. The boy made me do that a lot. He was so beautifully submissive to me. He would come home because it pleased me, even though it warred with his set schedule in taking care of the home.
I know what day it is.
Yes, Aidan.
It took him a good forty-five minutes to get home, likely due to LA traffic. He came straight into my office and lingered in the door. “Can I come in?”
It was a rule—even when the door was open, he had to ask permission to come inside my office or bedroom. They were my spaces, and I liked having control over whether or when he could enter them. “You may,” I replied, and Finley came inside.
“It feels weird, not doing the shopping today. You didn’t order delivery, did you? I can do it. I promise. It’s not too much.” His voice was slightly panicked, his words rushing out too quickly. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would think I was taking one of his responsibilities away because I didn’t believe he could handle them.
“Come here,” I told him, and he came. “Kneel.”
A breath whooshed from his lungs, and his body relaxed in such a familiar way. I was reminding him he still had his place, and the boy very obviously needed that.
Finley went down to his knees and looked up at me. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” I cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled into my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t realize you would think I was unhappy with you. I just wanted to reward you and give you a break because I’m so very proud of you. I thought we could go have a late lunch and then do the shopping together.”
Finley’s expressive eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, is that such a surprise?”
“Kind of. You know you, right?”
I tapped my finger against his cheek in warning. “Mind yourself or you’ll be staying home.”
“Please no! Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”
“Don’t do it again. Is there anything you need to do before we go?”
“No, Aidan.”
“Then come on.” He stood and moved back before I did.
Anytime we went places together, I drove the Audi. When we got outside, he said, “I have to get the list. It’s in my car.” He stumbled a bit, and I reached out to catch him. “Your car, I mean.”
I frowned. “You’ve been driving that car for the past year. I think it’s safe to say it’s yours.” It was already the end of February, and he had moved in the March before.
“Oh my God. You can’t give me a BMW!” he shrieked, and I tensed. Oh no. This wouldn’t do at all.
“I can do what I want, yes? I’m the one in charge here. I was going to let you come tonight, but now I don’t think I will. You’ve earned yourself a spanking instead.”
“Noooo! That’s not fair! I didn’t mean it that way,” Finley whined.
“And now you won’t come tomorrow night either. Would you like to continue?”
I could see his annoyance. He wanted to argue back, but I knew he wouldn’t. “No, Sir. I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Such a spoiled brat you are. Get the list.” I peeked into the car as I walked by. “And I expect this cleaned this week.”
“Yes, Aidan.”
He was quiet as I drove to Santa Monica, to a Mexican restaurant I loved there. Traffic was brutal as always. Finley tapped his finger restlessly against his leg, which meant he had things going on inside that head of his. I waited it out, knowing he would tell me.
We were pulling into the parking lot when he said, “I’m sorry I ruined our day.”
“You’ve already apologized,” I said as I parked. “There’s no need to do it again. And you didn’t ruin anything, boy. I quite enjoy punishing you.”
Finley gasped.
“Why do you sound surprised? Do you think I don’t enjoy turning that little ass red? Knowing I have control to do so? It’s one of my favorite things.”
The only times I touched him when he was naked was when I was giving him a discipline spanking or when I held him as he came down from his punishment or the high of an orgasm, as I talked him through it. It was always his hands when he jacked off or fingered himself, but they moved only on my command.
“I didn’t know… I mean, I can tell you’re hard when you do it, but I wasn’t sure. Can I ask you something?” I nodded, and he continued. “Do you like hurting people? When you have scenes with someone, do you hurt them?”
“When I was active, yes, I did, but I haven’t done that since I told you I wouldn’t. And when I hurt someone, it’s because it’s not a hard limit for them. It’s something they want or a limit they have allowed me to push.”