Page 66 of Silver

I snuggle in closer, inhaling his scent. His worn jeans have been washed so many times that they cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin. I keep rubbing my cheek against his inner thigh like a kitten, which is comical since I’m collared and leashed, yet all I’ve done is deny my desire to be a pet.

I’m aware of his cock. It’s hard under the zipper. My face is an inch away. I could stroke him with my fingers, but I won’t. He hasn’t given me permission to touch him.

The feel of his fingers absently threading through my hair relaxes me further with every passing moment.

My mind wanders to the kennel again. I can’t see it from here, but it’s a giant presence in the room. An eyesore. A reminder that I’m not a free woman. There are many reminders of that. The collar, the leash, the eyehooks in both rooms, the heavy chains attached to them, the cameras recording me, the pegboard, the food bowls, the white cotton panties and tanks, the pillow I’m kneeling on, the bags of implements I’m certain I haven’t seen half of. But most of all, there’s me. My nudity.

I’m a slave.

My Master owns me.

My Master might let me leave the room tomorrow to attend classes, but I will never be free, even when I’m outside these walls. He will ensure I can’t escape him. I suspect he will put something on me that tracks my location. I wouldn’t put it past him to insert a GPS locator inside my cunt or my ass.

I’ve spent a lot of time imagining my escape, hoping to convince him to let me attend classes tomorrow so I can do just that, run for help. But I’m waffling. I wouldn’t trust him not to surreptitiously attach a microphone to me so he can even hear what I say to other people.

I won’t run. Not tomorrow. I can’t. I want to see how this plays out. I want to spend more time learning about my dark side, which is desperate for the kind of sick attention I get from my Master.

That doesn’t mean I can’t run on Tuesday or any other day. It will get easier to escape him as time goes by because he can’t guard me closely forever. I’ll slowly earn more of his trust until he lets me walk to and from campus on my own. I’ll have plenty of opportunities.

For now, I’m going to stay. I will use the time to come up with a new plan. While I’m here, I’ll have food, clothing, and shelter. Without an alternative solution to those three looming issues, I shouldn’t act hastily.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

I don’t know how long I’m under this desk. I don’t care. I’m calm here. But eventually, Silver rolls his chair back, separating us.

A whimper escapes my lips at the loss of his warmth and the stroke of his hand on my head.

His smile is huge and genuine as he gives my leash a tug. He’s pleased, and that makes me happy. My heart beats wildly from his nonverbal praise.

Silently, I crawl out, letting him guide me by the neck. When I’m out from under the desk, he pulls upward on the leash. “Kneel up, precious.”

I do as I’m told, not surprised when he stands, rounds behind me, and confidently braids my hair down my back, resecuring it with the band.

“I’m going downstairs to make us dinner. Where would you like to wait for me, precious?”

It’s not a trick question, at least I don’t think so. He won’t be angry with me as long as I give a reasonable proposition. I suspect he would let me wander the room, read on in my English assignment, or sit at my desk. But none of those things appeals to me.

With a deep breath, I glance toward the corner of the room that’s most hateful. The corner with the eyehook and dog bowls. The corner with the kennel. My decision made, I don’t stutter as I say, “Kennel, Master.”

“Good girl.” He grabs my leash and leads me toward the object of most of my horror.

I stare at it, trying to control my breathing. Could it really be a place of safety and security? A place where I can calm my mind and center myself?

Closing my eyes, I force my mind to relax as Silver steps behind me to slide my panties down my hips and off my body.

“Open,” he instructs as he holds the bit to my mouth.

I eagerly part my lips and let the offensive rubber settle between my teeth. Next, I let him guide me into the cage without whining or physically resisting. I spin around in the cramped space and lift my arms so he can secure my wrists. Staring at my pussy, I part my legs. I’m wet and swollen. I easily recognize the signs of my arousal—the same signs my Master can see.

After securing my knees, he brings a blindfold over my eyes.

This time, I whimper. I’m not a fan of being in the dark. It’s scary.

He strokes my cheek. “Shh. Deep breaths through your nose. Covering your eyes will help you relax.”

My nostrils flare as I try to accept what I have no control over. Not just the blindfold or the fact that he’s stronger than me and can force me to do anything he wants. What I also can’t control is that I want this. It’s a deep need in my soul. I want to submit to him, please him, turn myself over to his care.

“Such a good girl.” His fingers come to my pussy, and he strokes my folds, reminding me of my arousal. “I’m going to put a toy inside your cunt, precious. It’s called a bullet. It will vibrate while I’m gone. It might be too much stimulation for you to avoid orgasm. You have permission to come as many times as you need. What I won’t allow is for you to let the bullet slip out of you. Focus on clenching your cunt around it. Keep it inside you.”