Rachel Haimowitz & Cat Grant - [Power Play 1] by Power Play Resistance

Jonathan practically purred.
    Correction: he wanted to punch Jonathan in the fucking throat .
    “Come along,” Jonathan chirped, threading a finger through a
    ring on Bran’s wrist cuff before tugging him to one of the doors at the
    back of the room. Did he even wantto know what lay behind those
    doors? What could possibly be so awful that Jonathan had felt the
    need to hide it, even from this place?
    No, he decided, right around the second Jonathan took the
    choice out of his hands.
    But then the light went on beyond the door, and Bran’s thrashing
    heart settled, more or less. Just a bathroom. A really, reallynice
    bathroom, actually: marble sink and vanity, marble tiles, massive heat
    lamp, ful -length mirror. Bright white, all of it, even the curtain on
    the curved shower rod.
    Nothing freaky here at al , it seemed.
    “Sit,” Jonathan said, indicating the bare toilet lid. Bran eyed it for
    a second, testicles creeping up into his belly at the mere thought of all
    that chilly porcelain. He half-expected Jonathan to force him when
    he didn’t move, but instead Jonathan merely said, “That’s three.”
    Huh? “Three what?”
    “You’ve forgotten about the demerits you’ve earned already? And
    that makes four, by the way. Third for hesitating, fourth for speaking
    out of turn.”
    Well, fuck.Apparently all he had to do was breathe and he’d rack
    up another demerit. He stifled a sigh and sank down on the toilet lid,
    and holy shit it was every bit as cold as it’d looked.
    Jonathan opened the medicine cabinet and drew out an electric
    razor. As he flicked it on, Bran realized it had a hair clipper at the
    end. His gut immediately tightened. “Wait, you didn’t say anything
    about—” Shit. He clapped a hand over his mouth, cursing his flapping
    tongue.
    “Good effort, but that’s five. And I gave you every opportunity to
    set limits when we negotiated our contract.”
    “But you never said—”
    “Six—”
    “Oh, come on! ”
    “Seven. I can keep doing this all night. I like hurting you,
    remember?”
    Bran scowled. Fucking pervert.
    “Going to behave now?”
    Bran gritted his teeth, but nodded. Then he remembered he
    needed to answer out loudand said, “Yes, Jonathan,” before the sick
    fuck could make it eight.
    Jonathan smiled and patted him on the head. “Good boy.”
    Oh, fuck the throat. Bran wanted to punch him in the fucking
    nuts .But of course he didn’t—three million dol ars, after al—and
    Jonathan grabbed a good handful of his hair and started shaving. Bran
    watched the first clump of ginger curls float to the floor, wondering
    what he’d gotten himself into, why he was letting anyone treat him
    like this, if all the money in the world was worth it. If he’d wanted
    to be bossed around, he would’ve joined the army. At least they’d let
    him keep his clothes on while they sheared him like a fucking sheep.
    The back of his head grew cold as more tufts of hair fell around his
    shoulders.
    “You should consider yourself lucky,” Jonathan half-shouted over
    the buzz of the clippers. “I normally shave my boys right down to the
    scalp on their first day, but I must admit a certain fondness for your
    hair.” Yeah, if you shave it all off, what will you grab, you fucker?
    Jonathan finished the back and then shaved down both sides.
    He paused to change the cutting guard before shaving the rest, and
    much less hair seemed to drift into Bran’s lap when he ran the new
    guard through the top. When Jonathan turned off the clippers, Bran
    reached up to feel what he’d done, but Jonathan knocked his hands
    away. “Stand up and take a look.”
    At first Bran hardly recognized himself. He hadn’t worn his hair
    this short since middle school, when the girls had started trying to
    touch it, never mind that it hadn’t been the girls he’d been interested
    in. He ran his hand up the close-cropped hair at the back, then ruffled
    the couple inches Jonathan had left up top, gentle curls