Page 15

15

Ryder

It was like the tail broke everything we’d established before.

If he hadn’t violated me directly before, he touched me now, running his hands along my body and leaving my skin crawling. At the same time…

At the same time, there was a part of me that was hungry for the touch. The days were long in the basement, and he was my only company. Was it any wonder that I would start craving it as something to break the monotony?

At least, that was what I tried to tell myself. I didn’t want to admit that I wanted this scarred man anywhere near me, even if he was the only one around. There was no way in hell I’d ever be so desperate that I’d want my captor to touch me, let alone unasked.

Yet, there we were.

I was frozen in the grooming tub as his hand brushed my cock, as it stirred with interest — not for the first time since getting there, but for the first time when he was there too.

He didn’t move either, even as I twitched and tried to decide between jerking back and rubbing a little against his hand. I wasn’t gay, but it had been a while since I’d even gotten myself off. It felt better than I would’ve expected, especially in the wake of one of the gentlest enemas he’d allowed me to give myself and with the warm water still cascading over me.

“No,” I whispered.

For a moment, it didn’t seem like he’d heard me, but then he drew his hand back and went back to washing me. We both pretended that moment had never happened, but his hand with the cloth lingered along my spine.

I shivered, ashamed of the semi I was sporting, and I squirmed when he got back down to my cock and balls. He bathed me without commenting, the only difference that he took his time instead of his usual precursory grooming.

I didn’t understand why a “no” now would make a difference. It wasn’t like arguing had made a difference before.

But this went further, deeper, more .

I just wasn’t sure how.

He finished bathing me in silence, making sure to rinse my hair and keep the water out of my eyes. It was going to get long and unmanageable soon, but I doubted he’d be calling for someone to cut it. He’d probably just think of it as fur or whatever.

Briskly towel-drying me off instead of using the dryer like usual, he avoided looking at me. He grabbed me and lowered me down onto the mat in front of the tub.

“Tail,” he told me, handing me the plug after slicking on some lube.

I whimpered, but he didn’t relent.

Slowly, I pushed the thing inside of me, hating that he was just standing there watching — but at the same time, afraid that he was going to try to “help. ”

He didn’t. Instead, he offered a hand out, and I knew what it was for. Instead of arguing, I put my hand in his, letting him wrap the mitt back in place before doing the same on the other.

His smile was soft, and he looked more pleased than I had seen him before — which did not bode well for me. If he was happy, I was slipping. But there just wasn’t a part of me that wanted to fight today. I’d fight tomorrow, but for today, I just wanted to be spoiled a little. I knew if I did what I was supposed to do, he’d continue to be a lot kinder to me.

“Good boy,” he told me.

For once, I just let it go. I didn’t ignore it, not quite, but I let it wash over me instead of arguing.

And I wondered just what it might be like to actually be his good boy. What would it mean for me? How much further would he push me? Or would things get better? They could get worse, sure, but every time I’d behaved, he’d introduced something easier or better for me too — temporary as some of those favors might have been.

“What next?” I asked, noting that I sounded wearier than I did argumentative.

“Next, I’m going to take you back to your kennel,” which didn’t sound appealing, “and go get you a good dinner.” Which did sound appealing. Some of the crap he gave me was barely edible at the best of times. “Bark once if you want me to feed you. Bark twice if you want to eat out of the bowl.”

Oh, that bastard. There he was, back with the same goddamn games. Feeding myself was preferable for the most part, except for where I got gravy or juice up my nose, but I’d already had my bath for the day. There were some things a baby wipe just couldn’t clean away enough.

I knew what the other option was, too. If I didn’t want any courtesy at all, if I wanted to eat the usual crap, I’d stay quiet.

Tentatively, I let out a bark.

He quirked a brow. “And you’re not going to try to bite my fingers?” he asked, more than a little skeptical — not that I could particularly blame him.

I shook my head.

What was the point? It would only get me into deeper shit, and, well… The day had been good . I didn’t know why I was obsessed with keeping it that way, but it felt like something significant. I wished I knew what it meant, but it wouldn’t come to me.

I had a feeling that was probably for the best.

“All right then,” he acknowledged. “Crawl a few steps for me, and I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

It sounded so pleasant, so natural, that I didn’t realize what I was doing until I was already doing it. It wasn’t until my knees were off the mat and onto the concrete that I caught on. Damn it. Panic started to rise up within me as I realized what I’d done without even thinking.

He scooped me up into his arms, holding me close and shushing me. He peppered my face with kisses — my forehead, the top of my head, my cheeks, my chin, everywhere but my lips — and encouraged me in nonsensical words to calm down.

I was crying and I couldn’t make myself stop, but I didn’t fight him as he brought me back to the kennel and set me gently back in the dog bed. He even went so far as to draw the blanket over me, taking off some of the chill from the basement in the process.

“I’ll fix dinner,” he said, “and if you still want me to feed you, I will. Nice and neat. Do you like steak, Toby? ”

I didn’t have the energy to argue about the fucking name, either. I nodded wearily.

“Good. Steak and vegetables. It was going to be my dinner for tonight, but I think you’ve earned it.”

Now that gave me a “what the fuck” moment. He’d give up his own dinner? Well, not that he’d give it up entirely. He’d probably just order in like the entitled, rich asshole he was. But still. He’d gotten something for himself and was willing to give it to me?

Or is this another form of psychological warfare ? I couldn’t help but think.

It probably was, but how much could I actually care at this point? If it meant getting real food that I didn’t have to scramble after in a bowl, I was down with it. It was as close to a fork as I was going to get these days, and I wasn’t going to just snub it.

Which only reminded me of how far I’d come along the way. Once, I absolutely would have. Now, here we were, only days — weeks? — into my captivity, and I was already surrendering just like he wanted me to.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised me. He tenderly brushed a few locks of damp hair from my forehead, brushing them back, then kissed the skin before straightening up back into the mountain of a man he was.

It had been a brief moment of vulnerability, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. All I could do was just stay curled up there, shivering a little for reasons that had nothing to do with warmth and everything to do with my own submission.

I’d fallen asleep before he came back, and I woke to him gently touching my shoulder. My eyes flew open, and I scrambled back a little before I could even process what was going on.

His lips pressed into a line, but he didn’t say anything about my automatic reaction. He wasn’t happy about it, that was for sure, but what could he really say? It wasn’t like this was my dream vacation!

“Dinner,” he said a little gruffly.

Which meant it was nighttime… probably. Unless he was still throwing me off, and he probably was. His habit of keeping me unable to tell what time of day it was and how much was passing was getting to me, and he had to know it. It had to be why he was doing it.

“Do you still want me to feed you?” he asked, crouching down next to me.

I hesitated, then nodded.

Surprisingly, he didn’t make me bark for it. Instead, he fished out a perfectly cut cube of steak and pressed it to my lips.

I took it, relaxing instantly despite myself. This was the first real , non-bland food I’d had in a while, and it was so tender and substantial and… I moaned.

He shifted a little at that, though he said nothing of it, and he waited for me to chew and swallow before offering me a piece of herbed and buttered carrot. I wanted to tell him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine and give me the meat, but mealtime would probably be the worst time to piss him off.

I ate the carrot, which was surprisingly good, followed by a piece of potato then — finally — another piece of the steak. It didn’t take me long to realize he’d taken his time in cutting it, ensuring there was no gristle or fat. The latter made sense, considering I spent a whole lot of time lying there and not any time exercising, but the former was just a courtesy.

He hand-fed me one bite after another, relaxing more until he was finally seated next to me on the floor. I was up a little higher than he was, leaning down to take each bite from his hand like a willing subject, and I didn’t care. How could I, when flavor burst from every single bite I took?

This was what the canned crap pretended it could imitate, but it couldn’t come close to the real thing.

Finally, the bowl was empty, and even though my stomach ached a little from eating too much, I wouldn’t have turned down more in case this was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of thing.

Just as I thought the words, he told me, “You’ll get to eat like that more when you behave more. That’s part of your reward. Just think about it, Toby.”

My name is not Toby .

“No responsibilities. No classes, no bills, no relationships, no worrying about what to put on the table, no family nonsense. Just pleasing someone and being pleased, just being taken care of.” It almost sounded like he was pleading with me, like he expected me to understand his point of view in all of this.

“I like my family and relationships,” I said, and for the most part, that was true… even though they felt like they’d been in another era of my life altogether now.

He sighed. “Well, think about it. It can be this way all the time, or it can be worse. You know that.”

“Made it pretty clear,” I agreed, and a part of me felt guilt at the disappointment that flickered across his expression. He’d really thought this would convince me in some way, and it hurt him that it hadn’t.

Why I cared, I wasn’t really sure .

I scowled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to give a fuck what this man felt or thought, yet there I was… caring and even worrying.

“I’ll replace the dildo with your regular water bowl,” he said, resignation heavy in his voice. He pulled out a few baby wipes and cleaned my face, then he rose and went to the waterer.

There was a part of me that was a little apprehensive. I’d gotten used to the thing. It was like a water bottle. The water bowl was a lot harder to drink out of. But I couldn’t tell him I wanted to suck cock to sate my thirst. I said nothing, watching as he cut through the cable ties and efficiently pulled it down. He gathered all the trash, shoving it into his pockets like he thought I’d try to figure out a way out with it.

Or kill myself .

He got the water bowl and refilled it, and I was thirsty enough to go over to it and drink. The first few sips were easy, but then I wanted more and more, and I ended up sputtering all over the place.

“Hold, Toby,” he told me, urging my head up. “Take your time. It’s not going anywhere.”

Yeah.

Neither was I.