Chapter 33. Knox
I found him curled into himself in the window seat of the library, knees drawn to his chest, staring out at the gardens with red-rimmed eyes.
After a week in Italy, just having fun and resting, we were back home and, of course, I had loads of work to catch up on, even though I knew leaving him alone with his thoughts wasn't the best idea.
Florian didn't turn when I entered, but the slight stiffening of his shoulders told me he knew I was there. This wasn't our first dance with that particular look of hollow misery. The boy was drowning in guilt again, suffocating under the weight of privilege he didn't believe he deserved.
"Want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle as I approached.
"D-Daddy…” he hesitated, and it made my heart hurt. I didn't want him to go through this.
“What's wrong, little boy?” I asked, touching his forehead with two fingers. “Is this anxious mind of yours acting out again?”
“Y-yes,” he said and stayed quiet for at least thirty seconds after.
I settled beside him on the cushioned window seat, leaving enough space that he wouldn't feel crowded.
“I don't want to sound ungrateful. We just had the most amazing vacation, and I loved every bit of it. I love everything here and that you do for me. But today I saw a homeless kid when I was coming home from college, just like I was that week, and…”
"And you feel guilty about that," I said. Not a question.
"How can I not?" He finally looked at me, blue eyes swimming. "What makes me so special? Why do I get to live here, wear these clothes, eat whatever I want, while he's out there?"
I sighed, feeling the familiar ache in my chest. Florian's capacity for empathy was one of the things I loved most about him, but it was also the source of his deepest pain. I reached out and brushed a strand of blond hair from his forehead.
"Do you know what I did yesterday?" I asked.
He shook his head, eyes watery.
"I signed off on a donation of two million dollars to the youth shelter downtown. Last month, it was a similar amount to the scholarship fund at your university." I held his gaze steadily. "The month before that, it was funding for the addiction treatment center."
Florian's lips trembled in surprise. I rarely discussed my philanthropic activities with him, not because I wanted to hide them, but because charity performed for accolades wasn't charity at all.
"I don't tell you these things because I don't need praise for doing what should be expected of someone with my resources," I continued. "But I'm telling you now because I need you to understand something fundamental: We are not responsible for carrying the entire world on our backs, Florian."
"But…"
"No buts. Listen to me." My voice took on a firmer edge. "You think I don't see the weight you carry? The way you look at everything I give you like it's stolen? The guilt isn't helping that boy you saw today. It's not feeding him or housing him."
Florian's eyes dropped to his hands. I took his hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over his knuckles.
"There's a difference between acknowledging privilege and punishing yourself for it. One is productive. The other is self-sabotage."
The harsh words landed exactly as intended. His head snapped up, a flash of indignation crossing his features before understanding slowly dawned.
"I want to help people too," he whispered.
"And you will," I assured him. "When you've finished your education, when you've built your own stability. Then you'll be in a position to truly make a difference, rather than just making yourself miserable."
“I'm sorry, Daddy,” he whispered, looking down. I held his chin tenderly. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”
“It's okay, my boy. It really is because I know exactly how you feel. You wanting to solve all of the world’s problems, the desire to help everyone… even when we can’t,” I told him and smiled. I passed an arm around his shoulder and he lay his head on my shoulder. I kissed his temple.
We sat in silence for a few moments. When Florian's breathing had fully returned to normal, I stood up, my posture shifting subtly. He noticed immediately. His eyes widened. Oh, how I loved how responsive that boy was.
"Kneel," I said simply.
With no argument, something quite rare for him, he slid off the window seat and onto his knees in one motion, hands resting on his thighs, looking up at me like this eager puppy. The transition was always shocking to me, this willful, defiant creature yielding himself to my command.
"As your Daddy, I've decided we need a new rule for our dynamic."
His breath caught, attention completely focused on me now.
"You are no longer allowed to doubt that you deserve this life," I stated firmly. "This isn't a suggestion or a request. This is a rule, as binding as any other we've established between us."
Florian's lips parted, but I held up a finger.
"If these thoughts arise in a persistent way, and I know they will, you will not suffer in silence. You will come to me immediately and express them. Each time, you'll receive a punishment."
"A punishment?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.
"Yes. I don't want these thoughts in your head.
But what I want even less is for you to hide them from me.
So, we'll discuss them, I'll reassure you how many times we need to, but you'll be punished for indulging in them again. Because they’re lies, and I don’t want you to lose yourself in them.
When the thought comes, I want you to repeat what I've told you. If you do so, then you won’t be punished. "
He nodded slowly. "Yes, Daddy."
"Additionally, you'll begin a practice today.
Three daily affirmations, to be repeated every time you look in a mirror.
" I held up one finger. "I deserve money, love, safety, and happiness.
" A second finger joined the first. "I will trust Daddy to provide and guide me.
" A third. "I don't need to carry the world on my shoulders. "
His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"If you fail to practice these affirmations, you'll report for punishment: written lines until the message sinks in." I extended my hand. "Come. We're going to practice now."
I led him to the full-length mirror that hung on the library wall, positioning him in front of it with my hands on his shoulders. Our reflections stared back at us, me standing tall behind his smaller frame.
"Tell me the affirmations,” I instructed, my voice low near his ear. "Do you remember them?”
He nodded, looking at me. I could feel goosebumps on his skin.
“Go on, then.”
"I deserve money, love, safety, and happiness," he said, voice trembling slightly.
"Again. Like you believe it."
"I deserve money, love, safety, and happiness," he repeated, stronger this time, although he was still utterly embarrassed, which was delightful.
“Good boy. Next one. I will trust Daddy to provide and guide me."
"I will trust Daddy to provide and guide me." His voice steadied, his eyes locked with mine in the mirror.
"Good job, baby boy. Look at yourself when you're saying them. Next one, I don't need to carry the world on my shoulders."
"I don't need to carry the world on my shoulders," he said, lower this time, but still like he believed it.
I watched the tension drain from him, replaced by that beautiful, peaceful submission. His shoulders relaxed under my hands, head tilting back slightly to rest against my chest. In the mirror, I saw what we were together, the structure he craved, the purpose I needed.
"Good boy," I murmured against his hair, feeling him melt further into my embrace. "My good, sweet boy. How are you feeling? How did it make you feel?"
“Embarrassed. But good. Happy that you care for me,” he said, his cheeks a little flushed. I smiled.
"Good. That's exactly how I want you to feel. Now," I said, still holding his gaze in the mirror, "we need to address what happened earlier."
***
I let my hand slide from his shoulder to his back, a gentle pressure guiding him away from the mirror and toward the leather armchair in the corner of the library. He went on easily.
"You've been doubting your place here, doubting that you deserve what I choose to give you." I sat down, adjusting my posture to make my intentions clear. "And for that, boy, you've earned yourself a spanking."
A flush spread across Florian's cheeks, his breathing quickening. I watched the subtle shift in his eyes, apprehension mingling with anticipation, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
"Yes, Daddy," he whispered, his voice carrying that delicious note of surrender.
"Jeans down. Underwear too." I kept my voice level despite the heat building in my core. This wasn't about my pleasure. Not primarily, at least. This was about boundaries, structure, consequence.
Florian's fingers trembled slightly as he unfastened his jeans, pushing them down along with his black boxer briefs. He stood before me, half-naked, his cock already half-hard, vulnerable. Beautiful.
"Over my knee," I instructed, patting my thigh.
He draped himself across my lap with ease, settling into position.
I took a moment to appreciate the view, the curve of his spine, the soft swell of his buttocks, the way his blond hair fell forward over his face as he braced himself.
He was hard against my thigh. I rested my palm against his back, feeling the warmth of his skin, the slight tremor that ran through him in anticipation.
"This is a reminder, Florian. A reminder that your doubts and fears belong to me as much as your pleasure does. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Daddy." His voice was muffled against his arm.
I raised my hand and brought it down firmly on his right cheek, and he moaned, that naughty little thing. I chuckled, shaking my head slightly.