Secret Pet

by Jamie Knight

“No, I’m still in accounting,” I explain. “Just for the next week, I have to help the new partner set up his…area.”

  Bubby heads into the kitchen with Pumpkin rubbing at her ankles and trying to trip the ancient woman. “His what?” she calls. I hear her opening the cabinets and banging them closed. Pumpkin is chatting up a storm. “I know I have tuna in here somewhere,” my grandmother mumbles. “Just a second, you good kitty kitty.”

  “This new partner, he is setting up in the basement,” I explain. “He wants me to help him run computer cables…because I am small.” I mumble this last part.

  “Damn, no tuna. Sorry, Punk.” Bubby shuffles back through the kitchen door. “I’ll get anchovies tomorrow at the dollar store.” Sitting back down, she looks at me. “So, what is the problem with that? Running cables might be fun. You could end up changing your whole job and finding new meaning in your life.”

  I snort around my next bite of sandwich. “I don’t think running cables is lucrative.” My phone pings from inside my jacket pocket. I slide it out and look at the text message. “It’s Eileen. She and Ray are back from vacation early, but she is still taking tomorrow off.”

  Bubby nods. She knows everything about my closest friends. Putting her hands under her chin and striking a pose, she tells me, “Tell Le Le to tell that hot husband of hers that I am ready to be one of his cam girls.” She flutters her mascara clumped eyelashes.

  Ray, Eileen’s husband, owns and runs quite a few sex-related websites. Including a few that host cam girls. It’s not something I ever thought I would be associated with, but given my desire to try out every vibrator on the market, I certainly could be helpful to Ray in other ways.

  I roll my eyes at my grandmother. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. And please never talk that way to me ever again.”

  “Prude.”

  While sticking my tongue out at my grandmother, I text Eileen back and tell her that I can’t wait to see her at work later in the week. Finally, someone who will understand how not cool it is for me to be working down in the basement with the new hot boss.

  Bubby slaps her hands on the table. The movement and sound get my attention. “Finish those sandwiches up. My group will be here any minute. Did you bring the earplugs like I requested?”

  I have to stare at her a moment, figuring out what she is talking about. “Oh right, you are having a séance at eight. I suppose that is what all this is about?” I gesture to the new chairs and the table.

  Bubby nods. “Keep Pumpkin in the guest room with you.” She leans down as far as she can to grab the cat, but Punk just slips out of her bony fingers and dashes into the kitchen like orange lightening.

  I watch her go. “I will try, but she will likely yowl. Won’t that scare your new ghost away?”

  “New ghost?” She turns and blinks at me.

  “Yeah.” I shrug and swallow the last dry bite of my second sandwich. “I thought séances were your new obsession. And why eight? Shouldn’t they be held after dark or at midnight?”

  My grandmother shakes her head. A tiny wisp of bleached-blonde hair escapes her turban. She eyes it then tucks it back in. “Nonsense. Your grandfather likes to go to bed early.”

  I feel my eyebrows shoot up and look at her wide-eyed. “Bubby, Grandpa has been dead for over forty years. I never even met the man.”

  She shrugs just as there is a knock at the door. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know what is happening with your life. Kin is kin. I’ve been giving him updates every Tuesday since the day you were born.” She points to the kitchen as a second knock hits the door. “My séance group is here. Get that cat and go to the guest room. Grandfather and I have a lot to discuss.”

  Getting up, I head to the kitchen to put my plate into the sink and grab the cat. As I do, I hear the sounds of Bubby’s friends coming in and taking seats. Some of the voices are familiar and as much as I enjoy seeing my grandmother’s friends — I don’t — I take that as my cue to hurry to the back bedroom and hide.

  Chapter Six

  Christian

  Tony, the elderly security guard, knocks softly at the door to the basement annex causing me to look up from my laptop. I haven’t really set up my desk yet or any of the desks — I just pulled one of the chairs up to the old wooden conference table and have been working there. Originally, I planned on getting rid of the big piece of furniture, but after meeting Mandy this morning, I know that I can’t let it go. I nod to Tony then rub my strained eyes.

  “It’s after eight, Mr. Keeley,” Tony barely raises his voice above a whisper. He acts like I was sleeping, not working.

  Since I started working at McKenzie Tech two days ago, he has always stopped in to say hello to me and chat. It’s something that I actually appreciate. He’s a decent guy, but a bit long in the tooth to still be working. Plus, with all the cameras and alarms at McKenzie Tech, his job is technically pointless. I think Kane just keeps him on for sentimental reasons.

  I smile at the security guard. Tony is one of the few people around here I don’t feel uncomfortable talking to. I’ve been that way most of my life. When I was a kid, it was easier to be friends with the servants than the other rich kids. Kids never got me. I was too mature for my age or whatever. I liked the adults who treated me like an adult. Something my father never understood.

  “It’s going to be quite a few hours till I leave, Tony.” I wave a hand at the numbers on my computer screen. “This code is needed for tomorrow.”

  Running a hand through his gray hair, the old guard looks at my laptop like it’s covered in slime, not code. He’s more of an active guy; he abhors technology. I don’t think he even owns a cell phone. “I see,” he mumbles. “I’ll leave you to it then. Did Mr. McKenzie give you keys to lock up? I’m pretty hard to find during the night, I like to keep moving.”

  I stand up and stretch. The old chair I’ve been using is not great on the back. “I have keys, yes. So, don’t worry about me.”

  Tony nods. Giving me one final look, he heads back toward the door. But before he is out of sight, a thought occurs to me. “Tony?” He turns back. “I have to work on one of the computers in the accounting department.” He nods. “Just wanted you to know that you might see me up there.”

  He nods again. “Not a problem. Let me know if you need any help.”

  I watch his back until he reaches the staircase and disappears through the door, leaving me alone again. I blink at the code on my laptop. It’s pretty much done, so I decided to take a break and look over it again when I get home. It's as good of a time as any to start on the next part of my plan for my pet. I pack up my laptop, grab the bag of supplies I bought this afternoon, and head toward the elevator.

  Up on the fifth floor, as I step into Mandy’s cubical, I take a minute to look around. I just caught a glimpse of it this morning, but now, I want to really study my new pet’s desk area. What people surround themselves with can be a spotlight on their personalities.

  The desk is pretty neat, to the point of sparse. She has the cup of lollypops that I indulged in earlier. It’s obviously an attempt to seem friendly. Beyond that, there is only one other personal item sitting around her workspace. It’s a small ceramic cat, orange with darker orange stripes. The figurine is molded at an angle that looks like the cat is ready to pounce. The juxtaposition of the figurine’s paint job and its pose interests me. Gently I pick it up and turn it over to look at the bottom. There is an inscription — Love Bubby. Odd.

  As I set the porcelain cat down, my phone rings. Normally I wouldn’t answer at a time like this, but it’s Rodney, who is basically my second-in-command on my team and the closest friend I have.

  As soon as I answer the call, he is talking — before I can even say hello.

  “What’s the deal, Christian? I thought we were moving this week.” Rodney doesn’t enjoy when plans change. He finds it very difficult to deal with. I can just imagine him, as he is complaining to me, doing his usual ticks — folding
and unfolding his arms repeatedly and constantly adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses. “I have my desk all packed up,” he continues. “If you are putting off the move then I will have to unpack and then repack in a few weeks. Why has the move time changed?”

  I take a seat in Mandy’s overly small office chair and scratch my chin. My beard is feeling a little disheveled. Perhaps I should shave it off. Usually, I don’t care much about appearances, but with the new pet, I suddenly want to clean up. It’s an odd thought, so I put it out of my head.

  “Has anyone else complained?” Sometimes the best way to deal with Rodney is to get him distracted, mainly by having him think of other people. That’s why I have him as my second-in-command. While I am not very approachable, Rodney is. His openness is a good match with my desire for solitude.

  He hums slightly as he thinks. “No, not really. Most of the boys haven’t even packed up yet. You know how Leon and the rest like to put things off to the last minute.” I do know this; it’s something I was planning on.

  “Okay then, all the more reason to put the move off for a bit. Don’t you think?”

  Rodney grunts a little. “I suppose. But it bothers me, boss. All that packing and unpacking.”

  “We have the money, hire an intern to do it for you.”

  “Seriously?” He laughs. “You would never say that before. You hate interns. Hell, you hate people.”

  Keeping only half of my mind on the conversation, I start rummaging through the desk drawers. Mostly, they contain the usual supplies — paperclips, etc. One has a few loose photos in it. I pick them up and stare at what must be Mandy’s family. “Not all people,” I mutter.

  “Please. I don’t believe that for a second, Christian. Hell, I’ve never even seen you with a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t date. I’ve told you this. Feelings are a waste of time. Too much compromise. I’m more into give and take situations. The girl gives, and I take, and that’s the end.” Setting the photo’s back, I push the drawer closed.

  “Sure.” From the sarcastic tone of his voice, I can imagine that Rodney is rolling his eyes. “I’ve heard this speech before. I can assure you that I am less convinced by it each time you say it.”

  There is a slight pause as he waits for my rebuttal, but I’ve already started to ignore him and look at the underside of Mandy’s desk. I need to place my cameras just perfectly, so I can see everything that I want.

  “So, when will we be moving to the new office?” Rodney continues.

  “Two, maybe three weeks, should be enough. I should be done with my special project by then.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Probably another eye roll. “Fine. I’m hiring an intern then and keeping them. Don’t complain when there is someone new at the meetings.”

  “Yep. Got it. Bye.” I hang up before he can say anything else, returning all my attention to the task at hand.

  The area under Mandy’s desk is pretty open. The desk itself is attached to the cubical wall, and there are very few drawers to get in my way. I duck my head down and squeeze myself under. Three cameras should be enough for down here. Their positioning has to be at the right height, so with one hand I reach over and grab the seat of the office chair pulling it closer.

  Positioning the chair right in front of the desk, I imagine Mandy sitting in it. My little pet, with her short but shapely legs. I want a good view when she opens her thighs and reveals that perfect pussy of hers. My fantasy is making my dick ache. I want her so badly but waiting will make my release even sweeter.

  As I set up the cameras and check their feed on my laptop, I let my imagination run wild. In my fantasy, Mandy walks in and discovers what I am doing. At first, she is shocked, putting her little palm over her mouth to stifle a scream. Then, she would try to protest that I am violating her privacy, but I would shut down her nagging quickly by taking charge.

  “Sit in the chair, pet,” I would order.

  Hearing the command in my voice, she would do so quickly, looking up at me with trepidation in her big brown eyes. Her whole body would tremble slightly at the start of our play session.

  “Hands out on the desk. Palms flat.”

  Her tiny hands would smack down onto the desk quickly, but she would keep her eyes on me, anxious for her next order. In my fantasy, I would have ties attached to the desk —something I can’t really install now. Cameras I can hide, but leather ties, not so much. But in my imagination, I bind her hands to the desk, making sure that she can’t move them at all.

  Her full breasts are smushed into the tabletop. I step behind her and run my hands down from her shoulders to the tops of her breasts. Her skin is warm under my hands. I can feel her breath as it speeds up because of my touch. My fingers slip lower, under the fabric of her blouse, to find her nipples which are standing up like pencil erasers. I pinch them both hard, not even warming her up. The roughness of my touch makes my pet hiss. Her little body jerks in surprise, pulling at her bound arms, but she can’t get free. She knows it. And she likes it.

  I cup her breasts, feeling their weight in my hands and massaging them until Mandy moans. Pulling them up and out of the fabric of her shirt, I set them in my view and then pinch her nipples again, making them taller and redder. As I tease her, I watch her pink lips form into a little O, her tongue darting out to lick them.

  “Open your legs,” I command.

  She does so, leaning back, and letting her eyes beg me for more. Keeping one hand on her breasts, I run the other down her stomach and legs, then pull up the skirt of her dress until her bare pussy shows. She’s wet already. Her juices making her folds glisten slightly. I run a finger into her wetness, sliding up one lower lip and then down the other. My eager pet’s hips buck at my touch, begging me to put a finger or two inside of her hot pussy. I indulge her, putting my index and middle finger together and pushing into her velvety wetness. Her folds part, letting me into her pussy.

  “Yes,” she moans. “I love it when you touch me that way, sir.”

  “Do you want more?” I ask as I pump her pussy with my fingers, making sure to brush her sensitive g-spot with my fingertips.

  “Yes,” she breathes. Her pussy tightens around my fingers, soft, damp walls rubbing against me.

  “Then beg me. Beg me for what you want.”

  She opens her eyes, and I can see the fire of her passion there. “Fuck me, sir. Please. Let me have your cock.” She emphasizes the last word of her appeal, leaving her mouth in an O position as if she was tempting me to stick my cock down her throat.

  The fantasy in my mind has my cock stiff and swollen in reality. I lay back on the carpet, unzip, and pull out my long, hard shaft. Palming it roughly, I pump and stroke it as hard as I can. Running my fingers up and down my full ten inches. Release suddenly feels urgent and necessary.

  “You want my cock?” I ask Mandy in my fantasy.

  “Please,” is all she says back, licking her lips again with her little pink tongue.

  Leaning forward, I slam my hands down onto the sides of the seat of her chair. Our noses touch, as I lean in to kiss her lips hard, sucking her lower lip into my mouth and nipping it lightly. The next time I push my lips into hers, she opens her mouth like a good pet should, letting my tongue slip in, tease hers and suck it.

  As we kiss, I turn her chair, guiding her bound arms, so they move behind her to either side of the back of her chair. Her breasts are pushed forward into my chest, driving me wild. I can feel her torso move with her panting breaths. She is totally under my control, and it is perfect.

  I press her back into the chair, feeling something primal come over me. My hips push into her stomach, the erection of my cock — pushed hard against the confines of my pants — is long against her ribs, threatening to slip between her breasts once it is released. Mandy’s mouth opens, lips slack, waiting with anticipation for my next move. Her eyes are entranced.

  I reach down, pull my zipper, freeing my cock. My pants fall to the ground. I step out of them, letting my steely
shaft swing in my pet’s face. Her lips tremble at the sight. She bites the lower one slightly, looking up at me from lowered eyelashes. She acts demur, but her legs are still open, pussy exposed. It’s so wet it is practically dripping.

  Stepping between her legs, I push her thighs apart as far as they can, stretching her body to its limits. Her hips scoot forward in the chair till her butt is right at the edge. I have to crouch down, bending my knees till our bodies line up. The tip of my swollen cock nudges her lower lips. It’s a gentle brush at first. Enough to make her whimper.

  “Take me,” she begs. It’s almost a whine.

  I reach forward, slipping my hands under her butt cheeks, and gripping them until I know I am hurting her slightly. I pull her forward at the same time that I thrust my dick inside her. In one quick movement, I am buried to the hilt.

  Once I am inside her depths, I cannot go slow. I thrust in and out as hard and rough as I can, slamming Mandy’s little body and the office chair into the desk of her cubical. Her pussy is so tight. It wraps around me, squeezing my length, and massaging every inch. The friction between our bodies is jarring. Each move making my dick harder and causing my desire to tighten in my abs.

  Our grunts sink up. Both of us exhaling on each of the thrusts of my hips. As my cock swells further, I hardly fit inside of her, pushing her pussy walls to their limits. Her lower lips pull and resist every one of my movements. They tease and milk my shaft for the seed she knows I am going to spill into her.

  I increase the speed of our fucking. Mandy’s juices drip off my dick and down onto the chair. She is breathing like she is running a sprint. The top row of her teeth still bites into her lower lip. Her eyes are closed; her face strained, tense from her oncoming orgasm.

  “I can’t hold back,” she moans. “You’re too good. I’m going to cum, sir.”

  I need my release just as much as she does, so I command her to let go. Her pussy tenses and quivers until it tightens and releases into a twitching mess. Her juices cover me in a wave, making her super wet, slick, and warm. It’s too much.