Page 58 of His Pet

He said he wanted me to be happy here. Who says that to their captive? Crazy people, that’s who, but I find myself liking this brand of craziness. It matches mine perfectly, because there’s no doubt about me being crazy anymore.

The things I told Cameron about not wanting to leave, about wanting him above all, they weren’t just smart lies to appease a captor. They were the truth, raw and somewhat painful, but also freeing. No more agonizing over what I should and shouldn’t be doing.

Should I fight Cameron? Should I kick and fight and claw my way out? Should I smile and lie and manipulate him to give myself a chance to escape? I no longer have to worry about any of this, because I finally admitted to myself that the answer to all of the above is a resounding no.

It might be wrong. Hell, it definitely is wrong, but it feels right. I’ve spent most of my life doing things that felt wrong just because I thought they were right. I tried to mold myself into someone my family would love, someone my father would accept, but it was never enough. Ironically, the man who had me kidnapped and locked me in a cage likes me the way I am. So yes, I’m embracing the craziness.

It’s not without sacrifice. I’ll miss plenty of things from my old life. Walks in the park. Listening to podcasts. Classes. Damn, I’ll miss school. People might find accounting terribly boring, but I’ve always enjoyed it. Tax laws might be convoluted, but it’s a world where everything makes sense.

One thing I won’t miss, though, is never feeling good enough. Cameron thinks I’m perfect, and that’s all that matters anymore. Besides, he looked willing to compromise on certain aspects of my captivity. Maybe in time, when he trusts me more, we can renegotiate again. I could take some online classes. Hell, I could work for Cameron. I bet he’s paying someone to keep his books. His clients might be criminals, but I bet his taxes are always done on time and paid to the last cent. After Al Capone, even criminals are careful when the IRS is involved.

“There you are.”

I turn to see Cameron standing over me with a glass of bright yellow liquid in his hand. He looks a little frazzled, like he’s still reeling from whatever his phone call was about.

“You said you wouldn’t go anywhere.”

Oh, I did, didn’t I? I meant it figuratively, that I wouldn’t be leaving him. I didn’t realize he understood it as “staying put in the exact spot he left me.” I’ll need to be more careful. The rules might have changed, but they didn’t disappear, and I don’t want to earn another punishment, not when I’m still feeling the aftermath of the cane.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Maybe puppy dog eyes would help? How does one even make them?

Chuckling, Cameron crouches. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Here, drink this.”

I grimace as I take a sip from the glass and artificial sweeteners explode on my tongue. If that’s supposed to be a punishment, I’m never breaking rules again.

“It’s a protein shake,” Cameron explains. “You haven’t been eating or drinking enough.”

Definitely a punishment. My mouth twists into a grimace like I just bit into a lemon, but I bravely gulp down the vile drink and present Cameron with the empty glass.

His “good boy” ricochets through me, filling me with solid warmth. Why did I ever fight this? It feels absolutely amazing to be someone’s good boy.

Cameron tenderly caresses my cheek as he sets the glass aside. “It’s good to have you back, pet. Now,” he stands and pulls me along, “turn around. Hands on the glass.”

The shiver that runs down my spine has nothing to do with the room’s temperature. Instead of a reasonable reaction, like being terrified, my body tightens in anticipation. Is Cameron going to fuck me? Spank me? I hated the sharp sting of the cane, but when he smacks my ass with his hand…

I already admitted to being weird and crazy, so me liking a mild spanking shouldn’t come as a surprise. Honestly, I wonder how I survived all those years pretending to be a normal person when I’m clearly anything but. That’s what it was, though. Surviving. Maybe now it’s time to start living.

A sharp smack yanks me out of my profound thoughts. I gasp and arch my back, sticking my ass out in a silent demand for more. Cameron delivers. The hits sting as he moves from casual smacks to actually spanking me, but it’s the good kind of pain. It chases the remnants of that horrible numbness away and helps me focus on the present. Cameron is here, with me. He’ll always be here.

“I was so worried,” he says between the strikes. “I thought I lost you.”

I cry out when his palm lands on the cane mark. Fuck, that hurts, but I deserve it. What was I thinking trying to dissociate myself into an early grave? “I’m sorry.” I let my head fall forward, forehead resting against cool glass. Outside, the sun keeps rising, oblivious to us, bringing warmth to the world.

Another painful strike, straight on the spot that’s already burning from the previous spanks. “Just don’t do it again. You’re mine, Justin. You’re not allowed to leave, not even into your own head. Do you understand?” He punctuates his answer with several fast strikes with enough force behind them that they push me harder against the glass. My yelped “yes!” is broken in half by a sob. Tears stream down my face, washing away the darkness.

Then both his hands land on my cheeks at once, pulling them apart. Before I can gather my thoughts, Cameron’s tongue assaults my hole. Viciously, like he’s a man starving and I'm a three-course meal. My sobs turn into whimpers and moans as his tongue pushes through the tight ring of muscle. I still can’t get over how something like this feels so good. It shouldn’t, but fuck, if Cameron weren’t holding my hips, I would have slipped on the floor.

Before I can get too deep into this almost meditative state of getting my ass eaten, Cameron bites my cheek. I scream and instinctively try to move away from the pain, but his grip holds me in place. He sucks on the spot, then soothes the pain with his tongue. That’s definitely going to bruise, but I find that I don’t mind being marked by him. Quite the contrary. I know I won’t meet anyone, but if I did, I’d want them to see that I belong to Cameron.

He straightens up, but instead of pushing his cock inside me, he pulls me against his chest. His arms are like steel bands wrapped around me. Not preventing me from escaping, but keeping me safe. He kisses my neck and breathes in deeply. His warmth seeps through my chilled body.

“Fuck,” he groans. I perk up at the sound of a zipper being pulled open. “I wanted to use some toys. To torment you for hours.”

The glass fogs as a moan tears from me. A sensible person would be afraid of being tormented, but all I can think about is Cameron’s hands on me, his attention on me, for hours. Yes, please! It might hurt, but he won’t ever give me more than I can handle. I realize with a start that I trust him. I trust my captor.

Well, I did say I was embracing the insanity, didn’t I?

I gasp as the thick, blunt head of his cock nudges against my hole. The rim job loosened me a little, but it’s still a tough fit as he pushes on, not giving me a moment to adjust. The burn is excruciating, like I’m being split in half, but it feels so good to be full, to be held again. By now, I have enough experience to know that the pain will fade the moment pleasure sets in.