Page 91 of His Pet

Even without words, his message was clear. Leave me alone. So I did.

Once the rooms were deemed clean enough, one of the bouncers brought me to a bathroom and gruffly instructed me to clean myself. Thoroughly. The reason for a “thorough” cleaning was obvious, and it left my stomach in knots. Enough so that when he later brought me food, I wasn’t able to eat anything.

Did Sin send someone to help Cameron like she promised, or did she leave him in Small’s clutches? What is she going to do with me?

Maybe I should have fought harder when the bouncer herded me into this cage, but how do you fight someone three times your weight? I didn’t want to earn myself a spanking on top of being locked up, so I complied.

I yawn and wince as I try to find a more comfortable position. Sin let me sleep in a tiny room in the back area of the club before putting me to work, but I spent most of that time tossing and turning, too worried about Cameron to fall asleep. By the looks of things, I won’t be sleeping tonight either, if for different reasons.

I hate the waiting. It reminds me too much of those endless stretches of time I spent waiting for Cameron, slowly losing my mind as I held conversations with the fridge and the AC. Mentally strong, I am not.

Voices sound from the hallway. I tense, half hoping something will finally start happening, half dreading who’s going to walk through that door. No one does. The voices peter out and I’m left in silence again.

Sighing, I shift onto my knees. They used to ache when I knelt for a longer stretch of time, but now I barely notice it. I stare down at my cock. Sin demanded I put on a cock cage almost as soon as I arrived. She said she might be just fostering me, but her rules still apply. Once again, I obliged without protest, too scared of what she’d do to me if I disobeyed her.

It was hard not to start laughing when she said she was fostering me, though. Like I’m a puppy whose owner went on vacation, so now she has to feed and walk me together with her own dog. Honestly, the analogy wasn’t that far off. I just hope she won’t put me up for adoption.

Footsteps.

The door handle clicks.

I take a deep breath and straighten up on my knees as best I can. Whoever is coming, I need to make a good impression. Especially if it’s someone waiting for the slightest reason to punish me.

Oh, who am I kidding. Like they need a reason to hurt me.

God, I hope it’s not one of those sick fuckers I saw the other night. I don’t want to get tortured.

I want Cameron.

I clench my jaw to stop myself from sniffling out loud. A few rapid blinks help with the tears gathering in my eyes. There. From the outside, I look like the perfect slave. What does it matter that on the inside, I’m wailing in fear and begging for mercy?

When the person enters, my heart skips a beat, then starts racing.

My first thought is that old sweatpants, baggy hoodie, and cheap slippers seem like a weird choice of attire for Sin’s club. Then my eyes drift up his big body. Cautiously, in case he takes offense with me looking at him.

Wide shoulders. Thick neck. Dark skin. Two or three days’ worth of stubble. Frantic eyes.

Those eyes.

So familiar, yet so different now that they’re filled with overwhelming relief.

“Cameron.”

The moment his name slips out of my mouth, I break out of my stupor. It’s him. He’s here. I grab the bars of the cage and yank at them, irrationally angry that they stand between us. I need to go to him. I need to touch him, to make sure he’s real.

Oh my god, what if he’s a hallucination? It’s quite possible the stress from the past day made me finally lose my mind. If that’s the case, I never want this hallucination to end.

“Justin.” Cameron’s shoulders slump in relief. He takes a tentative step toward me.

I yank on the bars again. I want to run to him. “Are you real?”

“Are you?”

“Huh?” I force myself to think about it. Am I real? I feel real, but would I know it if I wasn’t real? Damn. These are too deep thoughts for my current mental state. “I think I’m real. Can you let me out? Please?” I reach for him, but my elbow is too big to pass between the bars.

Cameron sinks to his knees next to the cage. He does something, there’s a beep, and the door inches open. A second passes as we stare at each other, each of us worried that the other one isn’t really there.

I don’t know who moves first. It’s possible we both spring into motion at the same time, at some unconscious signal our bodies share. I throw myself at Cameron just as he reaches for me, and we collide in a messy tangle of limbs on the floor. Neither of us cares. Cameron’s arms wrap around me like steel bands, crushing me against his chest. My fingers dig into his skin through his clothes as I desperately cling to him. He grunts like he’s in pain, but doesn’t push me away.