Page 63 of His Pet

Justin

When I finally sleep off the drugs, I’m sore all over. Not just my ass, which is to be expected after Cameron fucked me god knows how many times, but the rest of me too. My muscles ache like I’ve been working out. My throat hurts, even though I’m fairly certain Cameron hasn’t fucked my mouth while I was drugged. He told me it was too risky. Apparently, he doesn’t want me to choke on his cum and die. Sweet, right?

Worst of all is my cock, which is so sensitive even the silky sheet pressing down on it hurts. I vaguely remember Cameron making me come over and over while I begged him to stop. He didn’t. I should probably feel angry about it, so why am I smiling like an idiot?

I’m all sticky and I really need to use the bathroom, but Cameron stops me when I try to get out of bed. “Stay,” he commands. I obey, trying to convince my bladder that the situation isn’t as dire yet. It gets worse when Cameron rolls me onto my stomach and spreads my legs. He can’t want to fuck me again already, can he? His cock must be chafed and aching as badly as my ass, because of course he didn’t bother with lube.

“Sir,” I whimper when his fingers spread to my cheeks.

“Shh. We’re not going to fuck. I just want to see the results of my labor.”

“Huh?”

He pulls the plug out of my ass. I wince at the stretch, then clench the sore muscles as I feel wetness seep out of me. Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.

Cameron smacks my ass. “Let it happen.”

“But—” My protest is interrupted by another smack, this one meant to really sting.

“I don’t remember asking you a question, pet,” Cameron says. I shudder at the subtle threat in his voice, then force my muscles to relax. It’s better to be embarrassed than punished. “There you go. Good boy.” He spreads my cheeks wide to watch his cum trickle out of my ass. “Such a good boy.”

His praise hits me on a visceral level, as necessary as air or water. I settle more comfortably on the bed and let go of my insecurities. If Cameron finds this hot, who am I to be embarrassed about it?

“Beautiful.”

That brings color to my cheeks. I’m not beautiful. I’m a man. Men aren’t beautiful. Or are they? Cameron definitely is, but he’s all huge and buff and confident. Nothing like me.

Another stinging smack. “It’s customary to thank your Master for a compliment.”

“Oh. Thank you, Sir,” I reply dutifully, my face growing hotter. “Um… Could I go to the bathroom now? If you’re done, uh, watching?” God, please don’t let him come into the bathroom with me. I’ll probably die of mortification if he’s into that.

Cameron sighs, then kisses my ass cheek. “If you must. I guess I’ll just have to fill you up again later.”

I clear my throat. “Right.” I rush for the bathroom before he changes his mind or realizes how much I actually loved being stuffed full like that. Getting fucked over and over, only half conscious and completely defenseless. I didn’t know he spiked my drink, but the moment I started feeling dizzy and stumbling over words, I realized what was happening. Instead of panicking, I let myself relax into the floaty sensation. After all, there was nothing I could do about it, so why worry?

I use the bathroom and brush my teeth, and after getting permission from Cameron, I hop into the shower. I’ll never understand how am I so sweaty when I was literally just lying there like a fuck doll, but it feels good to wash all the grime off.

As I dry off, I study myself in the mirror, cataloguing the new marks and bruises. There are plenty, and I feel absurdly proud of each one.

“Are you okay?” Cameron asks from the doorway. “Not getting dizzy and smashing your head on the tile?”

“I feel fine, not dizzy at all.” He must have figured out the correct dose of whatever date rape drug he’s been feeding me. I smirk at the term. Is it still rape when I somewhat consented and I’m low key into it? “I’m a little hungry, though.”

Cameron’s face lights up. “I was hoping you would say that. I made eggs and bacon. They’re probably terrible because I suck at cooking, but you’ll eat everything without comments, is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” That stupid smile is back. He made me breakfast. He cares.

The eggs are a little dried up, and my eyes water from the amount of pepper, but I’m hungry, so I shovel them into my mouth. It’s not like I could have done better. I suck at cooking too. Maybe I could learn, though.

We spend the rest of the day lazing about. More specifically, I laze about while Cameron works out. He makes me take a nap, and I drift off curled on the couch, watching sunlight fall across the garden and listening to the clinking weights and Cameron’s grunts.

When I wake up, the sun is gone and the house is quiet. It’s evening, and I shiver, equal parts excitement and apprehension, because I know exactly what it means. Tonight, we’re going to Sin’s club. For the first time since I was kidnapped, I’m getting out of the house.

Cameron is nervous. He’s trying to hide it, but isn’t doing a very good job. Ironically, I think he’s more nervous about taking me out than meeting the mafia leader. I should probably offer to stay home to take that load off his shoulders, but I’m just too curious.

Cameron never outright told me exactly what kind of club it is, but I pieced together enough of the hints he’s dropped to know that Indulgence is a sex club. A highly illegal one, where consent doesn’t matter and kidnapped people are an everyday occurrence. Where people get tortured, raped, and maybe even killed. I should be terrified, but my miswired brain is excited and my cock… Let’s just say I’m glad to be wearing clothes for the drive over. The tight pants should at least disguise my erection.

After checking the outside security cameras on his phone several times, Cameron takes a deep breath. He crowds me against the wall and his eyes slide down my body to take in my clothes.