Page 24 of His Pet

But damn, am I tired. I almost rub my eyes, but catch myself in time and go wash my hands instead. The water helps wake me up a little, enough to start planning how to have fun with my pet tonight.

Justin needs stretching. It’s for his own good, even if he’ll probably get all scared and teary about it. No matter. I can deal with tears, and I’ll make sure he enjoys it so much that next time, he’ll beg me to play with his ass.

I also really want that massage. Not because I think it can do much for the tightly drawn muscles of my back and shoulders, but because I want Justin’s hands on me. A massage is innocent enough that it shouldn’t freak him out too much. Maybe if I can get him used to doing easy, not-quite-sexual things for me, he’ll be more comfortable with sexual acts. Not that I care about his comfort that much. I just don’t want him to break like the others did.

When I return from the bathroom, Justin is still in his spot by the kitchen island, but he looks like a kid who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Trying to figure out if you could kill me with the fork?” I tease, laughing when his cheeks grow red. How cute. I doubt a shortie like him could hurt me even with a real knife, but I put the cutlery away just to be on the safe side. “It’s okay. You’re not the first one to have that thought. I suggest that you don’t try, though. You wouldn’t like the consequences.”

“I wasn’t—” Justin starts, but I raise my hand to stop him.

“Don’t lie. One, you’re terrible at it, and two, it’s a worse offense than a natural interest in escape options. You’d like the consequences of lying even less than the consequences of attacking me.”

“Oh.” Justin’s throat works. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

I’m unsure which part of what we just talked about he’s apologizing for, and I don’t think he knows either. He probably just figured that “I’m sorry” is something safe to say, and I mentally prepare myself to hear it a lot from now on. “It’s okay. Just remember what I said.” I hold out my hand to him. “Come on. Let’s have some fun.”

Justin comes easily, until he realizes we’re not headed for the couch this time. Then his feet start dragging. “S-Sir?” he stutters when we stop in front of a spanking bench. It’s a simple piece of furniture designed to restrain a person on their hands and knees, the central part raised to support their chest and hips. It’s padded, and very comfortable. At least that’s what the product description claims. I’ve never actually asked my pets if they found it comfortable, but for the price I paid for it, it had better be.

“Climb on,” I tell Justin, tightening my grip on his hand when he takes a wobbly step back.

“I-I… Please, don’t. I’m not… I don’t… I…” Justin stammers, his eyes quickly growing bright with tears. He blinks a few times, like he’s trying not to let them fall, but it’s a wasted effort.

Gently but firmly, I pull him closer. “Climb on,” I repeat, this time injecting a little more command into my tone.

I’m curious about what Justin will do. Logic is probably telling him to obey his captor, but is that enough to overcome his fear?

Right now, it doesn’t seem likely. He’s frantically shaking his head, his body trembling, and he’s trying to squirm out of my hold.

“No! Please don’t. Don’t do this. I can’t, please,” he repeats over and over, just like yesterday when I was jerking him off.

Just like yesterday, I pay his blubbering no mind.

I grab his neck, my fingers enveloping a good portion of it, and I squeeze. Lightly, so that he can still breathe, but hard enough to remind him who’s in charge. “Look at me.” I wait until his wide eyes meet mine, then continue, “What you want or don’t want doesn’t matter here. You belong to me, and you will do what I say. Always. Now, what did I promise you?”

“That…” Justin’s voice shakes. “That you weren’t going to hurt me,” he whispers. His pulse still races under my fingers, but his breathing steadies a little.

“That’s right. I’m never going to hurt you. Unless you disobey me. Then I’ll hurt you a lot. Not permanently, but in a way that will help you make the right decision the next time you think about saying no to me. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes,” Justin whispers, then corrects himself. “Yes, Sir.”

I’m not gonna lie, I love hearing that line from him. “Good. Now climb on the bench.”

He’s crying, sweet little hiccups that make his shoulders twitch, huge tears staining his face, but he gets into position without me having to direct him.

“Please don’t do this,” he whimpers, offering a token protest when I attach the cuffs on his wrists and ankles to the bench.

“The restraints are for your own good,” I reply, intentionally misunderstanding him. “They’ll make this easier for you. This way, there’s nowhere to run and nothing you can do. Just let yourself feel.”

Justin sniffs and shakes his head. “I don’t want this. Please. You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He’s starting to sound a little too panicky and yanks on his restraints, so I put a wide strap across his back to further keep him in place and crouch in front of him. I cup his cheek, pleased when Justin immediately leans into the touch.

“Ssh, just relax,” I say. “I won’t fuck you tonight. You’ll enjoy this, I promise.”

That makes him shake his head even more vehemently. “I won’t. I won’t enjoy it. I don’t want this.”

I chuckle. “Was that supposed to convince me or yourself? Because I don’t think you succeeded in doing either.”