Becoming His Pet

by Stone, Measha

  And now, she had to pee.

  Deciding to concentrate on anything else other than the urgency of her bladder, she tried to figure a way out of this mess. She couldn’t stay with him. That much was obvious. He would just keep spanking her for every little lie she told, and she’d have to tell a few more if she was going to get them both out of this situation alive.

  And that thing he did after he spanked her the last time. What the hell was that? And why had she reacted like that? She’d never come so hard in her life, at least she could be honest to herself about that. But why? He’d been so arrogant, so possessive, so demanding. These were not traits she was supposed to find alluring. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have fucked his fingers like she had. The man had just spanked her and was putting her in a fucking cage! He didn’t even use her name anymore. He continued to refer to her as his pet!

  She gently banged her head back against the wall of the cage; maybe it would knock some sense into her. And where was the terror? She’d heard enough horror stories to know being alone in the woods with a madman never ended well for the damsel.

  “You’re up, good.” Greg walked in the room. He’d showered. Droplets of water still clung to his hair.

  She remembered about what he said about not talking from inside the cage and wasn’t sure if answering him would get her another round of the cane. Keeping silent until she knew what he wanted seemed a safer course.

  “I’m going to let you out now. You can use the washroom and wash up if you’d like. I have food in the kitchen when you’re ready.” He unlocked the cage and held out his hand. Like she needed his assistance or wanted it.

  Once out of the cage, she held onto it to get to her feet. He sighed but didn’t say anything about her ignoring his offer.

  “Turn around for me,” he said, touching her arm.

  “Why?” she asked, despising the shiver running through her tone.

  He raised a dark eyebrow at her. “Because I said to, Nora.”

  She huffed. “Look—”

  “Let me stop you there, trouble.” He took half a step toward her with his finger pointed at her. “You lost all considerations when you lied to me yesterday about what the hell was actually going on. You’ve done very little else but lie to me since I laid my eyes on you. So, until I trust you, until I know you aren’t keeping more secrets and telling me more bullshit, you’ll do exactly what I say, when I say. Or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

  She swallowed back the string of curses she wanted to hurl at him. Her poor ass couldn’t take another round with his hand or that damn cane.

  “I told you the truth.” She managed to keep her tone even.

  “I believe you did, but I also believe there’s more to all of this. And until I know everything you know, this is the way it’s going to be.” He ran his finger across her forehead, pushing her hair from her face. “Now turn around.”

  She stared at him, searching him. There wasn’t much choice at the moment, and she did really need to pee.

  With a roll of her eyes, more a show of bravado she was quickly losing while in his presence, she spun around.

  “Put your hands down. I want to see your ass.” He pushed away her arms when she tried to cover her bare bottom. Wasn’t it enough humiliation to have been in the fucking cage? Now he wanted to survey his handiwork?

  She jumped when his fingers trailed over what she assumed were the markings of the cane.

  “No broken skin. Good.” He patted the bottom of her ass, making her cheek jiggle. The heat overtook her face. Exactly how much did he want her to hate him?

  “Can I please go now?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “To the washroom and then the kitchen, yes,” he said in the soft, casual voice she remembered from the flower shop. But she wouldn’t be fooled. That guy—that hot guy she’d instantly fantasized over—wasn’t in the cabin with her.

  She made her way to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. It was a flimsy handle lock that he’d break in a second if he really wanted to get in, but at least she had the strength to try.

  After she relieved herself, she jumped in the shower, aiming the cool spray of water over her face. She could get out of this. She could. She just needed to think.

  When she turned around to grab the soap, the water hit her ass, making her hiss and jump out of the spray. Fuck, that hurt. She fisted the soap and lathered up, rinsing off quickly and getting out of the shower.

  Once dried off, she took a minute to survey the damage of her ass in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Red, raised welts ran across her ass. He’d left her thighs alone, and she supposed that was about as much mercy as he would show her. Only one small bruise amongst the stripes, but she knew sitting wouldn’t be pleasant. Not for a day at least.

  Remembering he’d gone to the store for supplies, she quietly made her way into the bedroom to search for some clothes. The bed was made from last night’s sleep. He’d made the bed.

  “Nora, come to the kitchen,” he called in that damn stern tone of his. She wanted to tell him to fuck off. But her stomach growled, overruling her temper for the moment.

  “I need clothes,” she called back, shielding herself with the towel still wrapped around her body.

  “No,” he said.

  Just no.

  She fisted her hand and hid behind the door to shake it at him. How the fuck was she going to get through this without telling him to fuck off and earning herself another dose of punishment?

  Readjusting the towel, she left the bedroom and met him in the kitchen. Food would get her mind thinking straight again. Once her stomach was full, she’d have a better idea of how to proceed.

  “No towel, Nora. Pets don’t cover themselves.” He plucked the plush cotton towel from where she’d tucked it and yanked it free of her body.

  Her hands covered herself instinctively, but his tsking sound suggested she stop it.

  “I’m not sitting here naked with you,” she countered, eyeing the towel, now puddled on the floor at his feet.

  “You’re right. You’re not.” He picked up a silver bowl from the counter and brought it back to her. “Well, maybe. It’s really your choice. I don’t give many chances as you may have noticed already. So, if I were you, I’d play this round better than the last few.”

  The snark in his tone deserved to be smacked. His entire face deserved to be punched. But she was too mortified to even breathe.

  The silver bowl he held wasn’t a normal serving dish. It was a bowl meant for a small animal, a dog, or a cat—or a human pet, apparently.

  “You already punished me,” she said softly, unable to tear her gaze from the dish.

  “This isn’t punishment. This is just how it is between us. Until I can trust you again, remember?”

  He had said something along those lines before her shower. But he had just been fucking with her to get her to cooperate. Right?

  “I don’t want to be—I mean—”

  He placed the dish back on the counter and framed her face with his hands. “I know.” His voice gentled, but he wasn’t giving in. “But it doesn’t change anything. One chance to eat, do you obey me and get your tummy filled or do you disobey, be stubborn, and go hungry?”

  If his gaze wasn’t so focused, if there weren’t so much concern and firmness in his expression, maybe she could have found the strength to fight him again. But she was a realist. She was nude, stranded, had no cell phone, and was starving.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “I don’t like that word. Don’t say it anymore. Or whatever. I hate that one, too.” He schooled her while still cradling her face in his hands. His warm, soft hands that could easily bring her pain, but at the moment brought comfort to her. She wasn’t flailing about wildly; she was contained in his grasp.

  It felt... good.

  Damn.

  “What do I say then?” she asked, not wanting him to leave her just yet.

  “Yes, sir works we
ll enough, I think.” He smiled. A warm, genuine smile like she’d seen at the flower shop. Maybe giving him an inch would make things easier for her, maybe she’d get her phone back and she could call Bernie.

  “Okay.” She tried to nod, but he still held her.

  He laughed. “Didn’t even last two seconds. Try again, pet.” He ran his thumbs over her cheekbones.

  “My name is Nora,” she responded firmly.

  “Yes, but I’ll call you what you are—my pet or trouble. Both fit you well.” He brought her face to his lips, pressing them gently to her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then to her mouth.

  His lips didn’t linger against hers, but pressed firmly, possessively then retracted, leaving her in a light fog of desire and confusion. What the hell?

  “I brought in a rug for you. The flooring gets cold in here when the air’s on. You can thank me by not arguing and getting yourself fed.” He picked up the bowl and placed it on the floor beside one of the kitchen chairs.

  She looked down at it, her heart raced, and a deep, dark sensation flowed through her. He left her to think about what she would do and went to the stove. When he returned he had a pan of eggs with him. Squatting down, he spooned a hearty helping of scrambled eggs into the dish.

  “Go on, pet. It will get cold if you wait too long.” He stayed in his lowered position, looking up at her.

  It was decision time.

  Her stomach grumbled, making him chuckle.

  Deciding to put her pride on the back burner, she slid down to her knees onto the small patch of carpeting he’d brought in. It looked like a leftover piece from the playroom, but she wasn’t going to comment on it and chance him taking it away. It was soft and cushioned, making the pressure on her knees more tolerable as she positioned herself to eat.

  “Uh-uh, now that’s not how you eat. Now be a good pet and eat up.” He shooed her hands away when she tried to pick up the bowl.

  Her stomach twisted into a new knot. He expected her to eat without her hands. The mortification couldn’t be ramped up any higher.

  “Make sure you’re careful with your hair, don’t want it to get dirty.” He smiled.

  She’d been wrong. This could get as humiliating as he wanted it to get.

  Shoving away her angry retort, she placed her hands on the carpeting on either side of the bowl and lowered her face to it. Darting her tongue out, she licked at the eggs, finding a piece that was easily grabbed by her teeth, and she took a bite.

  They were warm, fluffy, perfectly seasoned. Of course, he’d be a great cook. Asshole.

  “That’s a good girl.” He ran his hand over her head, down her back and patted her upturned ass.

  He was gone before she could smack his hand away. She listened to his booted feet move around the kitchen while she ate her breakfast. He returned to the table just as she shoved a piece of egg into her mouth. With her fingers.

  He sighed. “I can put you in mittens if you’d like.”

  She shook her head.

  “No. I’m fine.” She cursed to herself. “I mean, no, thanks.”

  Greg sat at the table, his feet now only a few inches from the bowl. She chanced a peek up at him. He was eating his own breakfast, with a fork and plate and if she wasn’t imagining things, he had a cup of coffee.

  Coffee.

  The nectar of every god worshiped in the world.

  “You’re not eating,” he said while shoveling eggs into his mouth. He hadn’t even looked down at her.

  Silently she went back to her meal, enjoying the food, and doing her damnedest to block out the foot only inches away from her. It was bad enough to be eating from a damn dog dish, but to be doing it at his feet—it was too much.

  Clearly the stress from the past few days was getting to her. She needed to keep a level head and be smart. No more giving him reasons to do awful things to her. No more getting all riled up. She just needed to think and to do that she needed information.

  When she finished the eggs, she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t bother trying to pretend she looked pretty, knowing she had eggs smashed on her cheeks here and there.

  His fork dropped onto his plate, and he pushed back from the table. She remained quiet, as he rinsed out his coffee cup and stashed it in the drainer next to the sink.

  “Can I have a cup of coffee?” she asked, noticing the pot of brewed goodness on the counter.

  “No. Maybe later, when you’re behaving and sitting at the table.” He didn’t even look back at her as he grabbed the full pot and poured the dark gold down the drain. Her temper started to rise. He was being a dick just to be a dick.

  “Greg. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the full truth yesterday.” Her jaw ached from the amount of apologizing she’d done since meeting him.

  “I talked with my brother this morning,” he said, turning around and leaning his ass against the sink. He casually hooked his right ankle over his left and crossed his arms over his chest. His jeans bulged at his groin, where his cock was nestled in his boxers. She looked away. What sort of horny slut thinks about her captor’s cock while being treated like a god damn animal?

  She obviously needed to step up her game when she got home. She couldn’t go so long without sex—it warped her mind.

  “Think I can get up now?” She pointed at the chair beside her.

  “Not yet.” He shook his head and looked at her. Really looked at her. His inspection began with her face, and her cheeks heated, knowing there had to be at least a little shine from the butter left on her from the eggs. When his gaze traveled to her breasts, she bit down on the inside of her cheek.

  Her boobs weren’t her best attribute. Too small and her nipples were tiny. But she wouldn’t cover them. He didn’t get to see her insecurity about them, he could come up with whatever repulsive reaction he wanted.

  He licked his lips while staring at her chest, and her stomach fluttered. Damn him. Damn him to hell making her feel so vulnerable.

  Her hands itched to move, to cover herself, but her pride had returned in full force. He wanted to see her naked before him, fine, he could see, but she’d never let him touch. Never.

  She noticed the dampness between her legs just as his stare landed on her groin. Her legs were parted with the way she sat back on her heels, but she wouldn’t snap them shut. Let him look. Let him see what he’d be missing.

  If her fucking heart would slow down, if the warmth would stop spreading through her fucking body like a forest fire, she might be able to hear what he was saying.

  “You’re very pretty, Nora,” he said softly. “You haven’t asked about calling a boyfriend or husband, so I’ll assume you’re single?”

  “And completely out of your league,” she snapped but recognized the crack in her voice when she spoke. The grin covering his face showed her exactly how much he believed her.

  “You reacted to the caning, your body did at least. Your pussy got all hot and wet for me.”

  “You were telling me about your brother.” Divert! Divert!

  He ignored her. “What did you think about it later? When you played it over in your head, did you get the same reaction?”

  “Did he have any information about Antonio’s death?” Ignoring a bully would sometimes work—it never did when she was a little girl, but maybe times had changed.

  “Same reaction.” His grin widened, showcasing that sexy little crease on the side of his mouth.

  She moved her knees closed. Fuck, she could smell her own arousal at the memory, at his stare on her now, what if he could?

  “You’re messing with my head.” She shook her head and rubbed her temples.

  “No. I think I’m showing you things about yourself you didn’t know, or maybe didn’t understand before.” He uncrossed his ankles and sat back in his chair, running his fingers over her hair. “That makes me happy.”

  And damned if she didn’t lean into his fucking palm.

  Chapter Th
irteen

  If his cock got any harder, he’d rip through the zipper. It wasn’t enough that he’d caned her, that he’d had his fingers inside her tight, hot pussy, now he had to keep moving forward fulfilling his darker needs. And she was fucking perfect for all of it.

  He doubted she understood any of this, she seemed completely naïve to it. But her dilated pupils didn’t lie. The soft sweet aroma of her arousal didn’t hide her true feelings. She loved this as much as he did.

  Oh, she didn’t like the humiliation. Being made to eat from the pet bowl had torn her pride down the middle, but she’d done it. And when he’d told her she was a good girl for it, her lips had curved up in a proud smile. One that he would swear she had no idea she’d given him. She’d lost herself in her own thoughts for a while and he’d let her dive in there. At least for the time.

  “Yes, I talked with Blake.” He continued to stroke her hair; it calmed her. The tension in her shoulders eased.

  “And?”

  “And Antonio’s body was found.” He nodded. She let out a harsh sigh. “I know, not good. What’s worse is the cops are looking for you. Right now, you’re the person of interest.”

  She sucked in air and pulled away from him. “What? Me?”

  “You worked for him.”

  “So?”

  “So, you worked that morning.” He reached out and cupped her chin. “Look, it’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t get it, Greg. If the brothers set me up, they aren’t letting me just get away. They want me in jail, it will be easier for them to get to me. Guys like them don’t let the body be found unless they have a reason.”

  She was right.

  “Okay, so let’s just think here. If you go to the cops—”

  “Are you crazy?” she yelled.

  He curled his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back and looking down into her face. The little trace of fear in her eyes settled him.

  “Don’t raise your voice to me again, pet. Just because I’m discussing this with you, doesn’t mean much has changed.”

  “You should just let me go and handle this on my own. They aren’t looking for you, are they?” She winced when he tugged harder on her hair but didn’t lower her gaze. Good girl.