Page 42 of His Pet

Justin ends up giving me a great blowjob even without me having to put strawberries on my cock. His instinctive refusal still stings a little, but I force myself to let it go. He’s already better than any pet I’ve ever had. He just needs more time.

I spend two wonderful days with Justin. We relax, have sex, eat good food, watch movies, and have sex again. We sleep together, with chains binding Justin’s limbs to the bed posts. Those chains turn out to be fun for both of us when I leave him restrained and edge the life out of him. I don’t fuck him again to give his ass a chance to recover, but we do plenty of other fun things.

As my second day off draws to an end, Justin grows distant and quiet, retreating to a shell I don’t like. I do have to work, though, so I steel my heart, ignore Justin’s teary eyes, and put him back in his cage for the night.

“I might be late tomorrow,” I tell him.

His face crumbles and he curls in on himself, hugging his knees tightly. It’s heartbreaking, but what am I supposed to do?

“I have two important clients scheduled.” Very important. I could possibly reschedule the shading session with a cartel enforcer that takes up my morning, but if I cancel the meeting with Alfredo Rossi, the leader of the Triton Syndicate, I might as well flush my career down the drain. Possibly along with my life.

These important assholes don’t like to be told no by anyone, let alone mere peons or poor artists just scraping by. Okay, I’m not scraping by, but as a neutral party who stays away from the constant power struggle in the city, these people will always see me as less than.

It used to bother me, but knowing what I’d have to do to get on their level helped me make peace with it. The only kind of violence I enjoy is reddening a naughty pet’s ass. I can’t imagine living in their kill or be killed world. Having to dance the fine line between not making any enemies while also not aligning myself with one of the parties is not easy, but it’s still better than the alternative.

“I could come with you,” Justin suggests so quietly I barely hear him. Before I can confirm that I understood him correctly, he adds, “I’d be quiet and stay out of your way, I promise. Just don’t leave me here alone, please.”

“Still trying to figure out a way to escape?” I can’t say I’m surprised, but it’s also a little disappointing. I stupidly let myself hope Justin likes it here. That he likes me. “That’s never going to happen.”

“That’s not what I meant! I wasn’t thinking about escaping. I just want to spend time with you.”

It’s a lie. I know it is, because it’s too good to be true.

Still, I can’t find a trace of deception in Justin’s expression. His eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and he looks at me with desperation that twists my insides, but it doesn’t look like he’s lying. He’s really making me believe that he’d be a good little pet and quietly kneel by my side as I work. That he wouldn’t try to run or alert someone to his situation.

It’s so convincing that I actually give it a real thought, which is not something I’ve done before.

My clients wouldn’t mind me bringing a pet along. Hell, having a well-trained sex slave, as they’d see it, would probably raise my standing in their eyes. However, there’s still the fact that Justin is lying, that he’s using my good mood against me. He’ll try to run the second he gets a chance, and I can’t afford that risk. Especially not with Detective Small lurking around.

Thinking about that asshole sours my mood instantly. “That’s not an option.”

The words come out harsher than I intended and Justin instinctively moves away from me, huddling in the opposite corner of the cage. I could easily walk around to get close to him again, but it’s supposed to be his safe space, so I stay where I am and quietly hate the distance between us.

“Listen, I’ll make time for you again tomorrow or the day after that,” I say, taking care to keep my voice friendly. “I do have to work, though. You’ll be absolutely safe down here. Just get some rest, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, Sir,” Justin mumbles but refuses to meet my eyes. He sounds disappointed, and I feel for him, even if his disappointment stems from the fact that he won’t get a chance to escape.

“Tomorrow,” I promise. After checking that he has enough water and food to last him a few days, just in case something comes up and I have to stay out longer, I walk away, pretending I don’t hear the quiet sobbing from the cage.

My bed feels cold and lonely and I spend half the night tossing and turning. I didn’t sleep with Justin downstairs because I wanted to get some rest instead of constantly being tempted by his body right next to mine, but I wake up groggy anyway. Maybe I’ll just spend all my nights with Justin from now on. The result will be the same, but at least the path to it will be more enjoyable. I could even bring him upstairs to my real bed, and we could…

No. What am I doing? He’s my pet, and I already spoil him too much. I need to stop thinking with my cock.

***

Something’s up.

I spend hours inking Alfredo Rossi’s arm, and the whole time, the back of my neck prickles. His goons are watching me closely, not taking their eyes off me for a second. There are two of them in the room and another couple right outside the doors, a stark contrast to my last visit when it was just me and Rossi. There’s no casual chat, either, just a strained silence that grates on my nerves.

My internal alarms all scream danger, and I’m tempted to stop halfway through the session. I have a feeling that the moment I proclaim my work complete, someone’s going to put a bullet in my head.

What’s happening?

Rossi didn’t say a word, and we parted on friendly terms after our last session. What could have changed? Of course, I could chalk the goons and their vigilance up to Rossi’s paranoia. There might be a power struggle within the Triton Syndicate that makes him feel threatened, but it doesn’t feel that way.

This animosity I sense in the air is personal, and it’s aimed toward me. For the love of the devil, I can’t figure out why. I’m not a nice guy in the conventional sense, but I tend to get along with people, and I didn’t do shit to Rossi or his group.

I’m nearly vibrating with tension as I put the finishing touches on Rossi’s new ink, an intricate blend of traditional symbolism and an entirely new symbol I designed for the Syndicate. I dare to say it’s one of my best works, and during our previous meetings, Rossi seemed enamored with it.