Page 52 of His Pet

I should be happy. Even when given a chance, Justin didn’t try anything stupid. He went to his cage like a good pet. That’s a good thing. This is exactly what I wanted. So why are alarm bells ringing in the back of my mind?

“Justin?”

He stirs, his eyes opening and finding mine. I nearly recoil at the emptiness in them. I broke him.

Fuck, how did it happen? I was so nice to him.

Justin pulls himself into a kneeling position, slowly, like every movement costs him too much energy. “Yes, Sir?” His voice is as flat as it has been every time after I punished him, and I realize he hasn’t been acting. His sudden submission wasn’t a silent rebellion. He’s been slipping away, and I was too angry to see it, and now he’s gone. He’s gone, like all the others before him, and it’s my fucking fault.

“Fuck!”

My knuckles, already sore from my bout with the boxing bag, split when I hit the metal bars of the cage. I barely notice the pain and the blood trickling down my fingers. Justin blinks, but otherwise doesn’t react to my outburst. A zombie, like all the others. Now I’ll have to figure out how to get rid of him without Mikhail and…

No. What am I thinking? I’m not getting rid of Justin. He’s mine. Forever. There’s no way I’ll just toss him out like yesterday’s trash.

I’ll fix him.

The thought fills me with dangerous hope. I’ve never tried to fix a broken pet before, and I don’t have the first clue how to do that, but what else is there? I’m not letting Justin go.

“You hear that? I’m not letting you go.”

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Justin’s mouth. It’s gone quickly, but it was there. I refuse to believe Justin is truly gone. People don’t stay broken forever, do they? There’s, like, therapy and medication and other shit like that. I don’t know how any of that works, but I know just who to ask. Mikhail has years of experience training slaves. Surely, he’ll know what to do.

First, though, I have to make sure my pet is safe. Crouching in front of the cage, I hand him a bottle of water. “Drink this. All of it.”

Justin doesn’t protest. While he drinks, I grab his blanket and some of the tastier snacks. I push it all into the cage before locking it. “Stay here,” I order, even though Justin doesn’t really have a choice anymore. “Eat. Drink. Rest. I’ll be back soon.” With a plan on how to fix you.

“Yes, Sir,” Justin whispers. He looks tired, like he’s been up for days and not asleep for hours. I know that part, too. The zombies always look tired, like staying awake is too exhausting for them. It hurts me to see Justin like this. I need to fix him.

Part of me wants to stay, to pull Justin out of the cage and cuddle him until he comes to his senses, but I force myself to leave. I need to talk to Mikhail first.

Just in case the police are monitoring my calls, I use a burner phone. It rings for an eternity before the call connects. Silence greets me from the other end, but I’m used to that. Mikhail is just being careful. “Mikhail?”

“Cameron. Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, no one’s after you. Other than that…” Everything is fucking wrong. “I think I broke him.”

Mikhail sighs. “The twink? Do you want me to come over to take care of him for you?”

“No! I don’t want him dead. I… I want to fix him.”

There’s a pause. I hear some muffled slurping in the background, and Mikhail’s voice is a little strained. “That’s new.”

“Well, he’s different. So what do I do?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and… Is he moaning?

“Fucking hell, Mikhail, are you getting a blowjob right now?” I can’t believe it. I’m baring my fucking soul here asking him for help, and he’s getting his rocks off.

“Well, not anymore I’m not,” he grumbles, and this time, I hear a quiet feminine giggle. “Why are you calling me, Cameron? I’m an expert on breaking people, not fixing them.”

My hope dies a painful death. “Right. Sorry. I just thought that since you kept that girl…”

“I never really broke Grace. I just transformed her into what she was always meant to be. I thought you'd do the same with the twink.”

“Well, I fucked up!” I yell, anger getting the better of me. “Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole.”

Mikhail is used to my outbursts, so it doesn’t fase him. “All right, calm down. Tell me what happened. Maybe I can figure something out.”