Page 32 of His Pet

I’ve got my panic mostly under control when Cameron finishes restraining me. It really does help. Whatever happens now is not in my hands anymore. I can’t stop my captor from doing what he wants with me, and if I happen to enjoy it? That’s just survival.

“Good boy,” Cameron says as he strokes my cock. My erection is back in full force, and I thrust into his fist without thinking. He smacks my thigh and tuts. “Patience.”

Patience? Easy for him to say. He’s not the one who’s been edged by that damned vibrating plug for eternity.

Cameron chuckles. “Your scowl is adorable, pet, but right now I’d prefer a different expression.” He slips two fingers back inside me and my mind blanks. He strokes my prostate, and I let out an embarrassing sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. It’s too much and not enough at once. I would have kicked Cameron again if I could, but tied as I am, I just squirm in my restraints and beg incoherently as he fingerfucks me.

He adds another finger at some point, or maybe two. I can’t tell, too overwhelmed by the tension that’s gathering in my body. My entire body, not just in my balls and the base of my spine like when I stroke my cock. My poor, neglected cock which Cameron hasn’t touched even once. How can I feel so close to an orgasm?

“Please, please, I can’t. Please let me come,” I beg, trying to move away from Cameron’s fingers and thrust against them at once. “Please, touch my cock. I need you to touch my cock.” I yank on the restraints, desperate to touch myself, but they don’t give.

Unsurprisingly, my evil captor ignores my pleading. “You don’t need your cock touched to come. Just relax and let it happen.”

Relax? Did the bastard just tell me to relax? Is he insane? How am I supposed to relax when I’m wired to explode and there’s no relief in sight? Next time he puts his stupid cock into my mouth, I’ll bite it off. We’ll see how he relaxes after that.

“I hate you,” I find myself saying.

Cameron just laughs. “No, you don’t. You want to please me. You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Liar. Maybe I should just leave you like this overnight.”

“No, please!” I’d go insane, and I’m not even exaggerating. Well, maybe a little. “I do like it when you call me a good boy.” I push away the wave of self-loathing that follows the admission. I’m telling my captor what he wants to hear. That’s all. “I like making you happy, but please…”

“That’s good to hear. You’re allowed to come. And no, I’m not going to touch your cock,” he adds before I can even beg him for it. “You can come like this. Just let go.”

“I… I can’t. I don’t…” Oh, but I can, can’t I? I can feel the orgasm gathering, just outside of my reach, but that’s because I’ve been pushing it away, afraid of its intensity, of what Cameron making me come like this would mean.

What part of myself am I going to lose this time? How many do I have left?

I try to hold on to whatever is left of the person who woke up yesterday morning. He already feels so far away. If I let this happen, will I lose him forever?

Do I even have a choice?

“No,” I answer myself with a whimper, even as the orgasm takes hold of me.

Stars explode behind my tightly shut eyelids and I clamp down on Cameron’s fingers, my inner walls pulsating wildly. Instead of sharp spurts, a steady stream of cum spills out of my cock, hot against my stomach. Tremors run through my entire body, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Intense to the point of tears, and so encompassing I have trouble thinking straight. So much so that the next thing I know, I’m on Cameron’s lap and we’re cuddling on the couch.

“Such a good pet,” he whispers into my hair. “Thank you for giving yourself over to me.”

Tears silently stream down my face because that's what I did, didn't I? I gave up, and now he owns another piece of me.

How long can I keep going like this?

Chapter 22

Cameron

Life is great.

I’m normally not a very cheerful person, but since Justin came into my life, I often catch myself smiling for no reason. I even hum to myself as I work, which is cheesy as fuck. Yet, here I am, grinning as I outline Saint Michael on Giovanni Ventresca’s back.

I’m at his villa because there’s no way a self-centered prick like him would come to my studio, and there’s a bodyguard lazing in the corner. He should probably be watching me like a hawk to make sure I don’t stab the tattoo gun into his boss’s eye, but his absent look tells me he’s either half asleep or busy daydreaming.

Normally, I would feel offended by the bodyguard’s presence. I’m known to be trustworthy, and why on Earth would I want to murder a paying client? But Giovanni is young and stupid, and the bodyguard is only here because he needs to show off, so I let it slide. Besides, I’m too happy to let something silly like this bother me. My pet is waiting for me at home and tonight, I’m finally going to fuck him.

Like I said, life is great.