Page 8 of His Pet

What?

That’s what the knife-wielding madman was teasing me with earlier, wasn’t he? He asked me if I wanted to be a good boy, and I got embarrassingly hard. I didn’t even masturbate because I did want to be a good boy, and how sick is that?

The stranger grins, his teeth shining white against his dark skin. He’s truly beautiful. Maybe I’d seen an image of him in some commercial? He’s definitely hot enough to be a model.

“You didn’t masturbate?” he asks.

Oh my god, did I say that out loud or is he reading my mind? Wait, he is my mind. This is all in my head. It feels so real I keep forgetting. Still, why do I make myself embarrassed even in my dreams? That’s stupid.

“He told me not to,” I find myself mumbling, my words slurring like I’ve had too much to drink.

My eyes are drawn to the stranger’s piercing that moves as his brows draw together. “He? Oh, you mean Mikhail. And you listened, huh? That calls for a reward.”

A reward? “Yes, please.” Now we’re finally getting somewhere. Maybe now this figment of my imagination will finally stop edging me and let me come. At this point, it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything other than my aching cock.

The man laughs. “And polite, too. Mikhail was right, you’ll make an excellent pet. Very well. You’re allowed to come.” With that, he takes me in his mouth again, this time mercifully not pulling away when I get close.

My arms feel rubbery and don’t quite do what I want them to, but I manage to get one hand into the stranger’s hair. His curls are cropped too short for me to really twine my fingers in them, so I just rest my hand on the back of his head as I watch him swallow my cock. My eyes never stray from his, and not just because he ordered me to watch. It’s too fascinating to look away.

A man is giving me a blowjob. It’s not something I ever expected to see and yet, it feels right.

Oh my god, I’m gay. My father’s going to have kittens.

Not even thinking about my father can stave off my orgasm. It hits me like a freight train, lighting my body up with pleasure so intense my vision whites out. My muscles lock and I arch up like my body is instinctively straining to go deeper into the stranger’s throat, which is tightening around me as he swallows, squeezing the head of my cock impossibly tight.

My dream man swallows all my cum and licks me clean, like he can’t stand the thought of leaving a single drop behind. I lie there feeling boneless, unwilling to move even if I were able to.

Is this the point where I wake up? I’m feeling more awake every minute, with that dreamy haze receding from my mind. Yet, I’m not back in my bed. I’m still naked in this windowless room, lying on a hard surface, and there’s still a stranger here with me.

A wave of dizziness hits me as I turn my head, but as my vision clears, cold prickles at the back of my neck. I’ve seen the X-shaped cross before. In porn. It’s even more intimidating in person.

Something large and metallic glints at the edge of my vision, but I can’t quite see what it is. I do notice a padded bench, which I’ve also seen in porn—I watch a lot of porn, okay?—and some canes and paddles hanging on the wall.

This is a kink dungeon. Why am I dreaming about being in a dungeon?

“What…? Where…?” My tongue feels heavy and too big for my mouth, but I manage a few intelligible words. “What’s happening?” I want to wake up. This can’t be real. “Who are you? Where am I?” Maybe the dream man will just tell me to go back to sleep and I’ll wake up in my bed. I close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep, but a stinging smack on my thigh has me wide awake.

The stranger’s eyes are narrowed now, and I shiver under his disapproving frown. “I told you to keep your eyes on me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, because my mama raised me to be polite. I’m definitely not apologizing because I truly regret disobeying the order. That would be ridiculous.

“Well, don’t do it again. I don’t get off on pain, but I will punish you if you keep giving me reasons to.”

Punish me?

“Now, to answer your questions.” The stranger leans over me. I could probably sit up now, but I’m not ready to stop believing this is all a very vivid dream. “My name is Cameron Matthews, and I’m your Master. You are my pet, and this,” he gestures at the entirety of the creepy dungeon, “is your new home.”

What the fuck?

Chapter 6

Justin

My mind blanks. Did this guy just say I’m his new pet? What does that even mean?

And that this is my new home? I already have a home. It might not be perfect and I might not visit all that often, but I definitely don’t need a new one. Not to mention I don’t need a Master, whatever that means.

Oh, but I know what it means, don’t I?