Page 31 of His Pet

Damn, I can’t say I’m not gay now, can I?

Whatever. Extreme circumstances. I have to remember that. Survival is the goal here, not upholding some arbitrary moral values. To stay alive, I need to keep Cameron happy.

I push my finger deeper and manage to find my target easily enough. Cameron’s moan confirms that it’s the right spot.

“Fuck, yeah,” he says, his ass clenching around my finger in a way that makes my cock dribble more pre-cum. “That feels so good.”

He’s not ashamed to show his enjoyment by moaning and moving against me as I enter him with another finger and massage his prostate. As usual, his praise makes me feel oddly elated. I’ve never fingered anyone’s ass before, so I doubt I’m as good at it as he makes it sound, but it’s still nice to feel appreciated. Even if the praise is coming from someone like Cameron.

Damn, why do I keep forgetting he’s evil?

After a few more minutes, Cameron lifts himself up on his elbows and grins at me. “You keep exceeding my expectations, pet. I think you definitely deserve your reward.” He gets up, still hard, and motions for me to take his place. I suppress a sigh. So much for getting him off so he’d fall asleep.

Lying on my stomach is pure torture, so I’m grateful when Cameron tells me to roll over. The movement shifts the plug inside me again. It’s still vibrating softly against my prostate, but the pain from the stretch is greater than the pleasure. I just want it out.

Thankfully, Cameron grants me my unspoken wish, easing the plug out and replacing it with his fingers. I’m so sensitive I try to move away, but he holds me in place. “Don’t make me restrain you,” he warns.

I almost want him to. Then I wouldn’t have to think so hard about not moving when all I want is to grab my cock and jerk myself off until I pass out.

“Please, Sir, I can’t hold on anymore.”

“Oh, you’ll be surprised.”

When he touches me again, I push him away with my foot. It’s more of a kick, really, and I freeze when I realize what I’ve done.

Oh no.

My mind speeds up along with my breathing, and I start panicking. I was doing such a good job keeping him happy, but I screwed up now. He must be pissed. He said he wouldn’t hurt me except when punishing me, and kicking him definitely warrants a punishment, doesn’t it?

I start to scramble off the table, even though there’s nowhere for me to go, but Cameron is quick to grab my ankle. This time, my kick is intentional, a desperate attempt to get away. I stand no chance of hurting Cameron, but he does grunt when my heel connects with his chest. What he doesn’t do is let go of me, no matter how hard I struggle. Before I realize what’s happening, he’s on the table, pinning me down with his weight.

“Stop.”

He doesn’t even yell at me. Just that one word, said in a commanding tone, is enough to get through the haze of my panic. I’m no longer in fight or flight mode but in a complete freeze instead, like a computer when it does whatever it is that computers do when they freeze. Or like a freaking opossum playing dead so that the predator would leave it alone. Except my predator is too smart to fall for it.

“Breathe, Justin,” he tells me, and I realize I forgot to do that. Breathing just didn’t seem important when I was about to get hurt.

Am I about to get hurt? Cameron doesn’t look or sound angry. His eyebrows are pinched, but that might be because his cock is rubbing against mine. When he dips his head to kiss my neck, I don’t push him away. I tilt my head so that he has more space.

“There you go. Keep breathing.”

He’s being nice again, and I hate that it pushes tears into my eyes. No one has ever been so damn nice to me before when I fucked up, not even my own family. Especially not my own family, and the realization hurts more than my abused ass.

Cameron kisses my cheek, his tongue darting out to lick my tears. I don’t even find that weird anymore. It’s just what he does, and really, where’s the harm in it?

“I love it when you cry,” he whispers, “but I’d also like it if you smiled more.”

Right. I’m supposed to be happy to be his sex slave. I attempt a smile, but I doubt it’s very convincing. All I want is to cry some more. I also want Cameron to hold me, but I don’t let myself think about that.

“I’m sorry I kicked you.”

Cameron shrugs. “Instinct. It’s okay. But I will tie you down. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Right, because the restraints are for my benefit, not so that my captor can have his way with me without me fighting back. Come to think of it, though, they might help. At least I won’t have a choice then.

I don’t fight when he clips the cuffs on my wrists and ankles to the sides of the table. I have some wriggle room, but not enough to get away from whatever Cameron has planned for me, not unless I can break the cuffs.

I’ve already tried that. The inside of the cuffs is lined with something soft so they don’t cut into my skin, but the outside is solid metal, locked in place. Without a key, I don’t stand a chance at removing them.