Page 4 of His Pet

Chapter 3

Cameron

I sigh and toss the tablet on the coffee table. I have designs to work on, but nothing pressing, and I’m not feeling inspired tonight. Truth be told, I haven’t felt inspired in a while.

Lying back on the couch, I consider jerking off to kill some time and maybe release some of the pent-up pressure I’ve been feeling lately, but stroking my own cock just isn’t fun. I could order an escort. Alex or maybe Connor. I call on Alex more often because he doesn’t have many hard limits and doesn’t mind me taking a belt to him, provided I pay the extra fee for kink. But I’m not in a mood for paid company and pretend pleasantries.

How long has it been since I’ve had something real, someone just to myself? The cage in the basement has been empty for too long, that’s for sure, but while I love keeping pets, it always hurts too much when I have to put them down. After the last one, I promised myself I’d never go through that again.

Cal had been a lovely pet, receptive to training with just a bit of persuasion, and the sounds he made when I fucked him were out of this world. But, like all the others, he too turned into a zombie after a few weeks. He no longer watched me with trepidation when I entered the dungeon. Didn’t involuntarily laugh at my stupid jokes only to berate himself for it later. As his tiny spark of defiance slowly died, it took everything else with it until he was empty.

It’s always the same. They become more and more distant, then they switch off. They go through the motions and follow orders, but the spirit isn’t there anymore. They’re zombies, through and through, and no one wants to fuck a zombie. At least before, I had my friend Mikhail to put them down for me. Now that he’s leaving the state, I’d have to do it myself, and I really don’t have the stomach for it.

No, no more pets for me. My hand will just have to do tonight. Or a fleshlight, if I weren’t too lazy to get one from the bedroom.

My phone rings just as I unbutton my pants and grab my cock. I’m not even fully hard, like my cock isn’t that interested in a masturbation session either, but what else am I supposed to do to kill the evening? Watch TV? Read? What do normal people do on their evenings when they’re home alone? I suppose I could visit Indulgence and find some entertainment there, but getting dressed and driving across the town feels like too much of a chore.

The phone keeps ringing. I heave a sigh and reach for it while still lazily stroking myself. The caller’s number is hidden, which isn’t surprising. Most of my clients come from powerful crime families and they rarely use anything but burner phones. I put my customer-friendly voice on as I accept the call. “Cameron Matthews. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you could open the gate,” my friend’s voice comes through the receiver.

“Mikhail? What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving.” I jump up to let him through the gate and tuck away my miserable erection.

By the time Mikhail’s car rolls to my front door, I’m waiting there to greet him. He grabs my forearm and pats my back in a half hug. “I am,” he says. “I just stopped by with a parting gift.”

My mood sours at the confirmation that he truly is leaving, but I force a smile. If this is the last time I see him for a while, I want to enjoy it. Besides, who doesn’t like gifts?

“A gift? Tell me.” I’m wary, as Mikhail isn’t the type to give out random gifts, and the way he smirks is a little alarming, but I trust this man with my life. Whatever he brought won’t be terrible.

“I think I’d better show you.” With a flourish, Mikhail opens the trunk of his car and reveals… A body. Oh boy.

At a closer look, I see the stranger’s chest move, so at least he’s alive. I take in his pretty, boyish face and try to remember if I know him. It would be Mikhail’s style to bring me an enemy to torture and kill, but I’m fairly certain I’ve never met this man before. I would have remembered those smooth, adorable features and that cute, button nose. What color are his eyes, I wonder? Then I clear my throat. “So, you brought me this… guy?”

“A new pet.”

My heart does something weird and painful in my chest and I stagger back. “No.”

“Hear me out—”

I don’t let him finish. “No, Mikhail. Take him back wherever you grabbed him from, or kill him, or whatever. I don’t care. Just take him away from here, please. You know I can’t, not again.”

Mikhail sighs and grabs my shoulders. Whether to provide comfort or to keep me from running is anyone’s guess. “The ones before weren’t a good fit for you. Physically, maybe, but their personalities were wrong. That’s why they always broke. This one is perfect.”

There’s no doubt the stranger’s attractive, and the glimpse of collarbone peeking from his loose T-shirt makes me want to run my tongue all over him, but I can’t take another pet. I turn away from the tempting sight and fold my arms across my chest. “No. I can’t go through losing a pet again, Mikhail. You know that. You were there after Cal.” He got me terribly drunk in a stupid attempt to comfort me.

Anger spikes as I remember the pain I felt. Not from the epic hangover, even if it was for the history books, but the pain from losing yet another pet. Mikhail saw what losing Cal did to me, and yet he brought me another?

“I can’t.” My voice sounds pleading even to my own ears. “You’re leaving. If it goes wrong…” And it will. It always does.

“If it does, I’ll come back to take care of it. But it won’t. I pulled a knife on him and he got hard, Cam. He’s meant for a collar.”

I begrudgingly look at the small form in the trunk again. Is there such a thing as being meant for a collar? Some people seek out Dom-sub relationships, but the consensual stuff just isn’t for me. There are no limits in the relationship between a Master and a pet aside from those I set myself. Is Mikhail right? Could someone really be meant for that? It sounds a little too good to be true.

“Who is he?” I ask in an attempt to give myself more time to think.

Mikhail shrugs. “Some college kid. Justin Palmer. Studies accounting, of all things. A boring little innocent pet that gets off on being controlled. Perfect, huh?”

“Perfect,” I agree absently as I crouch next to the trunk and brush a lock of hair away from Justin’s face. He definitely looks innocent with his face all relaxed in his sleep, although that peaceful expression won’t last long. The moment he wakes up, it will shift into that delightful dread and despair and, if Mikhail is right, desire. Since he has trained prime sex slaves for a trafficking ring for years, I suppose he would know.