He's being talked to and treated like a child, like a pet, and it made something in him rebel as he jerked his hand back to his chest, scowling. "Don't talk about me like that," he snapped, teeth starting to chatter as his skin starts to go numb and tighten from the chilly water. Just like Brice wanted, his cock and balls tightened up, but Dick kept his thighs pressed together, curling into himself as much as he can to preserve body heat. "I-I'm not--"

What can he say? He does actually belong to Brice, now; he'd been informed of that on the trip over. But he's a person, he's Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons, even if he hasn't been part of a carnival since his parents died years ago. "I'm not yours," he finally said, sullen.