Page 22 of His Pet

Oh wait, the pizza. Cameron ordered it with his phone, a phone that’s still somewhere around here. He put it down when he undressed, and the sweats he’s wearing now don’t have any pockets. If I could find it…

You should be able to call emergency numbers even from a locked phone. I might not know where I am, but Cameron told me his full name.

“My name is Cameron Matthews and I’m your Master.”

It shouldn’t be hard for the police to track him down. They’d kick down the door, arrest Cameron, and everything would go back to normal.

I’d forever know that I’m weak. That I like men, enjoy having fingers in my ass, and don’t mind swallowing someone else’s cum, but no one needs to know that. I’ve ignored this part of myself until now and I can keep doing it. I just need to get out of here before I find out something worse about myself.

I mean, before I get hurt or killed.

From my position resting against Cameron’s side, I have a great view of his sculpted muscles and poor view of the room, but I force myself to stay still. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep any minute now, and my shuffling around would alert him.

Fighting off my own drowsiness, I listen to his steady breathing and wait for the moment his fingers stop massaging my scalp, which is surprisingly nice. However, that moment never comes. Instead of dropping off, Cameron yawns and stretches his arms out. “Damn, I’m tired,” he mumbles around another yawn. “Probably shouldn’t have eaten all that pizza. Anyway, it’s time to go back to your cage, pet.”

My stomach drops as an echo of the previous panic attack sweeps through me, but I push those thoughts away. Another crying fit would do me no good. I need to look obedient, even if it means spending god knows how long locked up in a cage. At least it likely means there won’t be any more molesting tonight. I should be grateful for that.

“Yes, Sir,” I manage to say, my voice shaking. My whole body shakes as I get up, and it’s not just the chill from leaving Cameron’s warmth behind. I’m scared, but dammit, what choice do I have?

When Cameron spreads his arms for a hug, I quickly step into them. Maybe if he thinks that I can’t get enough of his company, he’ll let me sleep in the bed that’s in another corner of the room, although why would he believe that? I haven’t done a good job at pretending to be a good captive so far. I need to do better tomorrow.

As we hug and kiss, I notice the phone on the coffee table. It was so close the entire time. I could have just reached for it and…

No, Cameron would have stopped me. I need to be smart about this. Comply with all his demands, agree with everything he says. Then, when he lowers his guard, I'll make my move. I just have to survive until then.

Chapter 16

Justin

The basement is quiet. The tiny fridge in the kitchenette emits a low hum and the air conditioning whooshes out fresh air at regular intervals, but other than that, there’s nothing but silence. It’s starting to get to me.

I don’t know what time it is, but I’m assuming it’s well after noon. After Cameron left last night, I slept, then waited for him to come back when I woke up. He never did, so I ate one of the energy bars and drank some water. After that, I waited and waited. When I got hungry again, I assumed it was time for lunch, so I ate some more and waited some more. I never thought being kidnapped would be boring, but it is. Mind-numbingly so.

I’m used to keeping busy. With the semester underway, there’s always some coursework to do or tests to study for. When I have a spare moment, I read, play video games or go for walks, usually with some interesting podcast in my ear. My roommate once talked me into jogging, but it proved an unwise choice that nearly landed me in the student health center. My lungs are too messed up for more strenuous activities. But I’m used to doing something, anything, and this forced inactivity is threatening to drive me nuts.

I try to occupy myself by reciting the topics we went over in my last Economics class, right before I went to that cursed party, but without my notes to check if I remember everything correctly, it’s pointless. My imagination, fueled by the view of the sex dungeon part of the room, takes over then and brings me to some really weird places.

Observing the padded furniture bristling with hooks and anchor points, I can guess what most of them are used for and what position I’ll have to take on them. I mean, I would have to take, if I were still here when we got to that point, but that’s not going to happen because I’m going to escape soon. Still, with nothing else to entertain myself with, my mind gets busy imagining Cameron fucking me on every single piece of that furniture. I don’t know why I do this to myself, because those images are terrifying, but I can’t seem to stop.

How much would it hurt? Two fingers burned a little, which is better than I expected, but Cameron’s cock is much thicker than that. I need to get out of here before he comes anywhere near me with that thing.

To my embarrassment and frustration, my own cock quite enjoys this kind of daydreaming. It plumps up, not erect yet, but slowly getting there. What in the everloving fuck is wrong with me?

I close my eyes and let my head thunk back against the bars of the cage. They’re sturdy, inch-thick solid steel. I tried yanking on them with all my might, but they’re firmly embedded in the floor. They won’t bend, either, so squeezing through is out of the question. At least the cage is bigger than a dog crate. Tall enough for me to sit up without having to crane my neck, and long enough so that I can almost straighten my legs when lying on my back.

Not that I do much straightening. I prefer to sleep curled in a ball in the center of the cage, wrapped in my precious blanket which wards off the chilly air of the heavily air-conditioned room. I’d probably freeze to death if it wasn’t for that fluffy piece of fabric, and I’m doubly grateful to Cameron for giving it to me. Even if I hate him for keeping me here. Or I should hate him, anyway. My mind is all messed up on that front.

Whenever I try to convince myself that he’s evil, I remember how he comforted and praised me. How he told me he was proud of me. I’ve never considered myself starved for affection, but damn if words like that don’t make me feel amazing. It’s another thing to unravel with my therapist once I get out of here. By now, that list is half a mile long.

It’s several hours later, early evening if my internal body clock is right, when the light on the keypad by the door flashes green and Cameron strides through.

As much as I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me, part of me is happy to see him. Too big a part for my liking, but I can’t control that emotion any more than I can control the heartbeat that’s thundering in my ears as he crouches by the cage and grins at me.

“Hello, pet. I’m back.”

I smile at him, much more earnestly than the forced smiles from yesterday. I’m happy not to be alone anymore, and him being here gives me another chance at stealing his phone for a moment. At least I tell myself those are the reasons, and not because his sunny disposition is contagious.

We haven’t spent much time together, but I can already tell that Cameron is one of those people who are friendly with everyone without having to put in any real effort. It’s unfair, because he’s a terrible, rotten person who keeps people prisoner, rapes them, and tells them he’s proud of them, and… Damn, I can’t get into this again.