Page 53 of His Pet

“Thanks.” I quickly tell him everything that went on between Justin and me, up to the phone incident.

“So he tried to call for help?” Mikhail asks.

His question makes me hesitate. I was filled with anger in the moment, but now when I go through the memory again, something doesn’t sit right. Justin wasn’t nervous when I showed up. He wasn’t trying to hide the phone or run off with it. In fact, he offered it to me with a smile.

Oh god. He smiled. It wasn’t a now-you’re-going-to-jail smirk. It was a genuine, earnest smile that vanished the second he noticed my anger.

And the things he tried to say before I silenced him. That things weren’t what they looked like. He asked me to trust him. Jesus fucking Christ. Even after I punished him, he said he’d wanted to stay.

“Cameron?”

“I… I don’t think he was going to call anyone,” I say, something inside of me shattering. I fucked up. God, I fucked up so hard I’m not sure I can ever fix this. That smile…

“So, you succeeded in making him accept you only to screw things right up,” Mikhail says. “You know, human minds are surprisingly fragile. Sometimes even one step in the wrong direction at the wrong moment is all it takes.”

“You’re not helping!”

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. “Sorry, but that’s the truth. On the other hand, people are quite resilient. They can come back.”

“But how?”

“Listen, Cameron. What do you want? Do you want an obedient toy, a hole to stick your dick in whenever you fancy?”

“Obviously,” I reply without thinking, then pause. “Well, I want that, but also… I just want Justin the way he was before. When he talked to me and sometimes even joked and smiled and came to me for comfort.”

“You want him to be a person,” Mikhail surmises. “A pet, sure, but still a person. But for him to be a person, you’ll have to start treating him like one.”

“What? You better not be suggesting I let him go or ask for his consent or some shit like that. I fucking own him.” He’s mine. I just want him the way he was before.

Mikhail snorts. “Do I look like I ask my Doll for consent? Don’t be ridiculous. But you have to give him something. He was loyal, and instead of rewarding him, you punished him. Now he thinks you don’t care about him. That he’s a disposable object. You need to give him something, and I don’t mean a blowjob. Something he wants. Marginal enough not to put you at risk, but big enough to reinforce the fact that you see him as a person. That you care.”

I rub the bridge of my nose. The whiskey I drank earlier is making it difficult to think straight. I’m used to rewarding pets with orgasms, but Mikhail says that’s not enough. “I already gave him his blanket back. What else should I do?”

An exasperated sigh comes through the phone’s receiver. “I don’t know him, Cameron. How about you fucking ask him? I told you, I’m not an expert on fixing broken toys. Let me know if you want him dead. Otherwise, you’ll have to figure this out on your own. Just talk to him.”

“Right. Thanks.”

My mind is reeling as I end the call, and I realize I haven’t even told Mikhail about Small and all the other shit that has happened. I was so worried about Justin that I completely forgot about it.

I pace the room for so long that the split skin on my knuckles scabs over. Talk to Justin. It sounds so easy, but what am I supposed to say? Should I apologize? Will that make me look weak? What if he asks for something I can’t give him?

Worse, what if he’s too far gone to talk to me at all?

Chapter 35

Justin

The half of the chocolate bar I managed to eat sits heavily in my stomach. I feel like my body wants to throw it up, but it’s too tired to do so. I’m too tired to do anything but sleep. Another nap sounds like a great idea, especially now that I have a blanket again. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I certainly won’t complain. It’s so soft and warm, and I wrap it tightly around my shoulders. That way I can pretend someone’s holding me.

Time passes as I drift in and out of sleep. My head feels like it’s filled with fluffy cotton, as soft as my blanket, and nothing matters. It’s nice.

I dream about Cameron. He comes back and talks to me. I can’t quite understand his words, but I like the sound of his voice, even if he sounds worried. I probably messed up again and he’s getting fed up with me, but he’s here now, and it’s nicer than having the blanket back. I wish I never had to wake up again.

Cameron reaches for me and his fingers are caked with dried blood. I wonder if that’s a way for my subconscious to tell me he’s about to kill me. I wouldn’t really mind, although I’d prefer it to be blood-free. The sight of blood has always made me a little queasy. Yet another reason my father saw me as a failure.

“Come here, Justin,” dream-Cameron says, curling his bloody fingers in a come hither motion.

I don’t know why I feel so tired even when I’m dreaming, but I want to make him smile, so I gather what energy I have left and crawl out of the cage. Cold bites into my skin as I leave the protection of the blanket. To my surprise, Cameron grabs it and wraps me in it, then pulls me into a tight hug. There’s also a click and a brief pressure, then my cock is no longer being squeezed by the tight metal. Yeah, this is definitely a dream. A great one, though. I never want it to end.