Page 37 of Body and Soul

Eli’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “That sounds a lot like what I’ve been doing here.”

I nodded. “Partially. But true service submission involves trust and communication beyond chores. It’s about me understanding your needs while respecting your limits.”

Eli swallowed hard, fingers twisting in his lap. “And what would that look like?”

“It can vary,” I replied gently. “Custom rules and protocols, regular check-ins to ensure we both feel fulfilled, and a clear system of rewards for good behavior.”

At the mention of rewards, Eli’s gaze shot up, interest sparking in his eyes. “Rewards?”

I smiled. “Absolutely. I believe in positive reinforcement. When you follow the rules and meet my expectations, you’ll be rewarded—whether with praise or something more tangible.”

Eli licked his lips, a nervous gesture. “And if I break a rule? Will there be… punishment?”

I met his gaze, my expression serious. “I prefer to call them consequences. They’ll be clearly defined beforehand, and we’ll agree on them together. They won’t necessarily be physicalor painful; some submissives prefer writing lines or losing privileges.”

Eli nodded slowly, the tension easing from his frame. “And what if I sometimes want the pain? The punishment?” His voice was barely a whisper, cheeks flushing.

Heat stirred low in my belly at his confession, but I suppressed it. I studied his face, noting the flush of his cheeks and the way he bit his lip.

“Is that what you need, Eli?” I asked softly, my voice rougher than intended. “Do you need me to punish you?”

His breath hitched, fists clenching on his thighs. He nodded, gaze averted. “I think so. Sometimes I punish myself when I fail. It’s like a compulsion, a need to atone. And I thought maybe if you did it instead…”

A pang shot through me. The thought of Eli hurting himself made my heart ache. I wanted to soothe away his pain, but I knew that wasn’t what he needed right now.

“How do you punish yourself?” I asked gently.

Eli fidgeted, unable to meet my eyes. “I… sometimes I let people hurt me. I hook up with people online and let them do whatever. Spit on me. Slap me. I feel like I deserve it.”

Nausea washed over me. The idea of faceless men degrading Eli filled me with rage and sorrow for the boy who believed he deserved such cruelty.

I took a steadying breath, forcing calm. Eli needed guidance, not my anger. I reached out and gently grasped his chin, tilting his face up to mine.

“Eli, look at me. You are not broken or unworthy. You’re a beautiful, resilient person who has survived trauma. Your coping mechanisms don’t define you. You don’t deserve to be abused—no one does.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as he met my gaze. The tension in his body spoke of his desperate need for absolution, conflicting with his belief in his unworthiness.

“I want you to do something for me,” I said firmly. “Take out your phone and delete Grindr. Right now.”

His eyes widened, panic flickering across his features. “But I need it. Sometimes I—”

“No, Eli. You think you do, but it feeds into your cycle of self-destruction.” I released his chin, resting my hand on his knee. “If you feel that urge to hurt yourself, come to me instead. We’ll find a healthier way to cope together.”

Eli's breath hitched, trembling fingers fumbling for his phone. I watched as he navigated to the app, thumb hovering over the delete button. He hesitated only briefly before pressing it.

As the app uninstalled, he let out a shuddering breath, shoulders sagging as if a weight had lifted.

I squeezed his knee. “Good boy, Eli. I’m proud of you. Letting go of something that felt like a lifeline was brave.”

Eli flushed at my praise, a tentative smile curving his lips. “Thank you, sir.”

The honorific sent heat through me, but I focused on providing Eli with the structure he needed to heal. I released his knee and leaned back, the apartment quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the slanting light of the setting sun.

Eli shifted, worrying his lip ring. I sensed a new anxiety taking root.

“What is it, Eli?” I prompted gently. “We need to be open with each other.”

He took a shaky breath, twisting his shirt hem. “If I can’t hook up anymore, how will I... I have needs.” A deep flush crept up his neck.

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