Page 5

I knelt with my nose nearly pressed against where the two surfaces met. My cheeks burned with heat. The cushion under my knees was soft, one small comfort in my punishment. It was thick enough to keep my knees from aching on the hard floor. My toes curled beneath me, seeking something to grip as I fought the urge to turn around and watch him work.

Behind me, I heard the soft cloth sliding across the counter, the quiet splash of water as he wrung it out. Each sound made my stomach tighten with guilt. He was cleaning up after me. The ceramic container clinked softly as he set it upright, and I squeezed my eyes shut, seeing again how close it had come to shattering.

"Eyes open, little one," O'li said without turning around. How did he know?! He always knew somehow when I was trying to escape into my own head. "This is thinking time, not hiding time."

I opened my eyes, staring at the place where the two walls came together in a perfect line. The grain of the wood was visible this close, tiny imperfections that O'li probably found bothersome but that I'd memorized from my previous times here. There was a small knot that looked like an eye, watching me disapprovingly.

In the pet store, rules had been arbitrary, changing with whoever was on shift. With O'li, consequences were predictable, reliable. If I was bad, I went to the corner, got a spanking, had to write lines, or something similar. If I was good, I got praise and rewards. The simplicity was its own kind of freedom. And I loved it. And I loved him. The knowledge that he was watching made my skin prickle with awareness. Not unpleasantly. There was something comforting about being the focus of his attention, even in discipline. Especially in discipline, maybe.

The minutes stretched. I had no way to measure time except by the sound of O'li's movements and the gradual easing of heat in my cheeks. He was humming now, a low thrumming sound that his species made when content. The fact that he wasn't angry, wasn't even particularly upset, somehow made the punishment both easier and harder to bear.

My legs started to feel stiff from kneeling. I shifted my weight carefully from one knee to the other, not enough to be defiant but enough to ease the sensation. O'li noticed. He noticed everything but didn't comment. Small movements were allowed as long as I maintained my position.

The kitchen filled with the scent of breakfast: something savory with herbs, the sweet tang of cut fruit, and the warm smell of grain bread toasting. My stomach responded, reminding me that stolen berries and cheese weren't actually a meal. But more than hunger, I felt the pull of wanting to be part of it, to sit with O'li and share the morning properly instead of kneeling here alone.

"Almost done, pup," O'li said, and my heart jumped at the gentleness in his tone. It was as if he could read my mind sometimes. And maybe he could? I wasn't sure of all the things the people from Aconche could do. We had classes in the pet store, as educated pets were more valuable, but they didn't tell us everything.

I focused on breathing steadily, on keeping my posture straight the way he expected. My fingers twitched with the desire to fidget, but I kept them still. I could hear him plating food, the soft clink of dishes being arranged.

Then, finally—blessedly, finally—I felt his hand on my back. Not my neck this time, but between my shoulder blades, signaling that my punishment was over.

"All done now, puppy," he said. "Let's have breakfast."

I spun around so fast I nearly lost my balance on the cushion. I scrambled to my feet, my face splitting into a grin, and bounced on my toes, the corner already forgotten now that his approval had returned.

"I'm sorry about the sauce, Daddy," I said. "I'll be more careful, promise. Can I help carry things? I'll be really careful!"

His mouth curved in that subtle way that passed for a smile, and his hand moved to ruffle my hair. "Food's already at your station. Go sit properly, and we'll eat."

I vibrated as I followed him to the feeding area. I found the fabric of his shirt without conscious thought, needing that connection as we walked the short distance to where breakfast waited.

"Thank you, Daddy," I said, and meant it for more than just breakfast. Thank you for the structure, for the consistency, for knowing what I needed even when I acted out.

He made that clicking sound that meant approval, and he brushed the collar at my throat, a brief touch that sent warmth spreading through my chest. "Good pup," he said simply, and those two words made everything right with my world again.

The dishes were clean, the spilled sauce was nothing more than a memory, and breakfast had put me back in O'li's good graces.

Apparently, that should have been enough for one morning.

My body disagreed.

The milking earlier should have taken the edge off. Instead, corner time had somehow put it right back. Every time I remembered O'li's hand on my neck, guiding me into position, heat curled low in my stomach again.

O'li stood near the kitchen window reading something on his tablet, completely unaware—or pretending to be unaware—of the crisis happening three steps behind him.

I slid off my chair and padded over. He sensed me before I touched him.

"Pup?"

I wrapped both arms around his waist and pressed my face against his back.

His free hand immediately found my hair. "What's this about, little one?"

"Just love you."

His hand paused. I rubbed myself against his thigh. "That," he said, his voice dropping, "is not just love."

"Love and something else." He turned slowly and looked down at me. I pressed closer, shameless now that I'd been caught.