Page 73 of His Pet

The box Sin and Cameron talked about is an actual box. I don’t know why I expected something different.

It’s a simple wooden box, about waist high. If there’s truly a person inside, they must be pretty cramped. Is there really someone inside? Sin’s “toy” as she called him? Some desperate man, torn from his life like I was, tortured and abused?

Sin said I was too skinny to survive a punishment from her. What the hell does she do to people? Whips them until they pass out? Until they die?

This place is terrible. People suffer and die here and no one does anything to help them. Cameron does nothing to help them, and I still like him. What does that say about me? What does my stiff cock say about my conscience? My morality?

I prefer not to think about it.

There’s a hole in the side of the box, at just the right height for a moderately tall man to stick his cock through. I suppress a slightly hysterical chuckle when I notice a small plastic step tucked out of the way next to the box. For the shorter patrons, I presume.

No sounds come from inside the box. No crying or begging for help, and the room is too noisy to hear a person breathing. Is the person inside even alive?

Cameron pulls me into his chest and I tilt my head back for a kiss. It’s an automatic movement, as natural as breathing. I need him. He’s a bad person, but he’s my bad person, and I need him.

His mouth brushes against mine, his stubble scratching me. I’m cleanly shaved because the ability to grow a beard apparently isn’t a part of my DNA and those few hairs that do grow on my chin look utterly ridiculous, but of course Cameron’s stubble is as perfect as Cameron himself. It’s really unfair. Fortunately, he likes me even with my shortcomings.

“You’re thinking awfully hard, pet,” he murmurs against my lips.

I sigh and let my head fall into the crook of his neck. We fit perfectly, like we’ve been made for each other. It scares me as much as it exhilarates me.

“It’s overwhelming.” I haven’t even begun processing the fact that he made me lick my cum off the floor in a crowded bar, let alone how he casually talked to his friend while cock*deep inside me. And now there’s this box, and god knows who or what is inside, and it’s just too much.

Like he senses me spiraling, Cameron tightly wraps his arms around me and just holds me. “Ssh. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

To my embarrassment, my eyes burn with tears. I’m sure plenty of people cry here, but they do it while being hurt or raped, not when they’re being comforted. This is peak embarrassment, much worse than people complimenting me on screaming nicely during an orgasm.

I’m not going to cry, for fuck’s sake!

I blink the stupid tears away, and if some escape, it’s because of the dust in the air. Yeah, definitely dust.

“Silly little pet. You’re safe with me.” Cameron licks along the wet paths on my cheeks, then nips at my nose. “Come on. Let’s do our part in giving Sin’s toy a lesson he won’t forget. Then we can go home.”

Home. When did it start meaning Cameron’s house? What did it even mean before?

“It sounds great, Sir.”

“I’m glad you agree, even if your consent isn’t required,” Cameron teases, then grabs my hips.

I yelp when he suddenly lifts me and sets me down on the crate. As I scramble for balance, my hand slips on something on the side of the box. A button? I accidentally press it, and a low groan comes from the box.

“Oh, fuck.” I quickly pull my hand away.

The button is red. Sin mentioned something about a red button, didn’t she? Oh my god, did I hit the punishment button?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He probably doesn’t hear my apology because I’m too scared to raise my voice. The last thing I want is to attract attention. Cameron would protect me from anything too terrible, but what if he made me suck someone’s cock like he threatened before? I don’t want that.

I don’t, and my stupid cock can shut up. Being used by strangers against my will is not hot, dammit.

Cameron chuckles and presses my hand back on the button. I struggle against him, but it’s no use. He makes me hold it until the groans from inside the box turn into whimpers and small cries. There’s also the clinking of chains, some shuffling, and a dull thud that sounds like a forehead hitting wood.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, hating that Cameron is making me do this. I hate other people getting hurt, let alone being the one causing the pain.

“It’s for his own good, pet. Slaves need to learn quickly, and Sin is an especially unforgiving Mistress. He needs to understand that there’s no word for no in his vocabulary, not when it comes to Sin’s commands,” he says loudly, the words meant as much for me as for the man in the box. The explanation makes a twisted sense, and I hate that it does.

Cameron settles me on the edge of the box and steps between my spread legs. In this position, he’s the one who has to tilt his head up to kiss me, and I don’t hate it. As his tongue slips between my lips in a claiming kiss, he pulls his cock out and lines it up with the hole in the box. My own cock rubs against his stomach as he pushes forward.