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Griffin

Moving him into my bedroom changed everything.

I’d known some things would change, but I hadn’t thought it would be that pronounced. I’d thought that maybe he’d talk to me a little, but I hadn’t accounted for him being a little bit of a chatterbox. The longer he was upstairs, the worse it got.

Well. Worse wasn’t the best word. It was different and new, and I liked having someone there with me. It kept the loneliness at bay, or at least, it staved it off. I was still desperate for contact, and I was trying to slowly get him used to my touch. He didn’t flinch when I touched him anymore, and he sighed more than he complained.

“If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to gag you,” I told him mildly one night as I lay back in my bed. I was trying to watch the new documentary about haunted places, but he wouldn’t stop running his mouth.

“I don’t like these kinds of shows,” he complained, sitting up in his kennel.

I glanced aside at him, enjoying the sight of the tail and the harness hugging his body like a glove. The mitts looked good there too, and I knew it’d be another night of silently jacking off as I imagined sinking deep inside of him.

“Are you scared?” I asked.

There was a long pause. “…sort of,” he finally said.

I exhaled slowly, considering taking a risk. It would be the first time I would really surrender any sort of control to him, and I wasn’t sure he was ready for it.

But I wanted him to be ready, and I had to see how he was going to react to it eventually.

“Do you want to come up on the bed?” I asked slowly.

He blinked at me, his eyes widening. He glanced at the bed, then the TV, then back at me, biting his lip. “You know that’s probably a dumb idea, right?” he asked.

I shrugged, playing it as cool as I could and ignoring the way my heart raced in my chest. I wanted so badly for him to agree, to keep him close because it was safer — not, of course, because I wanted the contact.

Fuck, who was I kidding? I was desperate for it, desperate enough to take a stupid risk.

“Are you going to do anything dumb?” I retorted.

He shook his head quickly. “But you don’t know that I’m being honest,” he pointed out.

“Shouldn’t you be trying to tell me how well you’ll behave so you can get out of there for a little bit?” I asked him, a tiny smile twitching onto my lips. “You really suck at this, you know that?”

He huffed out a breath. “Yeah, I’ll be good. It’d be nice to stretch out. Are you going to make me lay down at the foot of the bed?”

“You’re going to be in arm’s reach,” I told him sternly.

He rolled his eyes at me.

I got out of bed and found the right key for his kennel, unlocking it. He crawled out, stretching much like a dog would. Small as he was, he had plenty of room in there, really, but he enjoyed his moments of freedom from the kennel.

The moments when we were together with him outside of it, if it could be called together when I knew he still wanted to be worlds away from me.

But this was progress, even though I had the feeling I was being manipulated.

It could’ve been worse, though. I knew he wouldn’t take off for the door — at least not right away. Even if he did, he wasn’t getting out without me, so there wasn’t far he could go. He’d learn pretty fast that there really wasn’t anywhere to go where I wouldn’t find him.

I gestured to the bed. “Up.”

He gave me a disgruntled look then climbed up onto my bed, letting out a breath of relief as he settled onto his stomach on the bed. I clipped the leash to his collar then, wrapping the handle around my own wrist just in case I drifted off to sleep.

It was a good thing I did, because I woke up a little while later to him trying to carefully unwind the leash from around my hand using his wrists. It looked ridiculous, considering the mitts, and he had to be out of his mind if he’d thought that would work.. I grabbed his wrist, and he froze, staring at me and looking guilty.

“That’s the thanks I get for letting you sleep in my bed?”

“I had to try,” he whispered, refusing to meet my eyes.

“After everything,” I said, adrenaline waking me up immediately, “you really thought…”

“I’m sorry,” he said .

“You’re sorry, what?” I growled at him, yanking him close to me. The hurt and betrayal of him trying to get loose from me during the night combined with the abrupt waking had my temper out in full force.

“Master,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.

“Don’t try that with me,” I told him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close, so close I could nearly kiss him.

So I did.

I leaned in and pressed my lips harshly against his, tasting him. He was still, not kissing back but not pulling away either. He probably didn’t dare, not after getting caught trying to slip free of me.

He still didn’t want me, and the surge of pain that came from that realization was worse than I would’ve thought it would be. I’d thought…

Fuck, I’d been so stupid.

“What? Do I repulse you that much?” I snarled at him.

I’d been so kind to him, as gentle as I could, but maybe that hadn’t been the right way to handle him. Maybe I’d been too gentle. Maybe I hadn’t gone far enough.

Maybe I’d only bent him so far instead of breaking him.

“N-no,” he stammered.

Liar .

I pulled back and licked my lips then swallowed hard. “Do you even understand how lucky you’ve been?” I asked, my voice a harsh whisper.

He didn’t answer.

I shook him a little by the collar. “Damn it, do you?”

“Yes!” he burst out, tears starting to leak down his cheeks.

“Yes, fucking what?” I demanded.

“Yes, Master!” He choked back a sob, looking at me with those gorgeous, pleading eyes. “I know I’ve… I’ve been lucky.”

“Do you want to know what it could’ve been like instead?” I asked him, reaching around and cupping one ass cheek.

He tensed, but he started to harden against my leg.

Well, wasn’t that interesting… My breathing quickened, some of the anger ebbing — only some, not nearly enough to get him out of this.

I brought that hand around, slowly running it along his cock. “Is this what you want instead?” I stroked him, slowly at first then a little faster. “You want me to get you off?”

“N-no,” he said, shaking his head even as his cock reacted to my touch.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No!” he wailed. “I don’t want to come.”

I leaned in close, my voice ragged against his mouth as I whispered, “Too fucking bad.”

He sobbed as I jacked him off. The skin moved beneath my hand, smooth but hard all at once, and I was relentless. He wasn’t going to get out of this.

He was still fucking lucky, because all I was doing was giving him a hand job. This could’ve been so much worse for him, but I knew his straight-guy mentality was making it difficult for him to process.

Moments, mere moments, passed before he was spilling all over my hand with a harsh cry. “No,” he sobbed. “No, no, no.”

“Yes,” I told him, kissing him again just because I could.

I was burning from the madness of rage and desire alike, and I slid my hand into my boxers, hissing as my cum-covered hand found my own cock. I kissed him again and again, greedily devouring what should’ve been mine already. If I was going to take from him — if I was going to ignore his pleas — then I was going to get something else out of it too.

I knew my own body well enough to wring an orgasm out of my cock in seconds, mingling our cum on my hand. I drew it up and shoved two of my fingers into his mouth.

“So fucking help me, if you bite me…” I warned.

He knew he was in deep enough shit.

“Now suck on those. You need the practice.”

His eyes went a little wide, but he sucked on my fingers as he wept.

Suddenly disgusted with myself, I pulled back, wiping the sticky mess off on the outside of my boxers. “Come the fuck on,” I growled at him.

I dragged him out of bed mostly by the collar, eschewing the leash and the handles on the harness in favor of making sure he understood just how much trouble he was in.

“Bad dog,” I told him. “Bad, bad fucking dog.”

I slammed the door to the kennel and padlocked it in place, breathing hard as I stood and stared down at him. He hadn’t fought me the entire time, but there was something about that that bothered me. Fuck, the whole thing bothered me. I’d already gone far enough by having him kidnapped, and now…

Now, I felt sick.

Sick, and sated, and so, so good.

How was it possible to hate myself so much even as I rode the waves of my climax?

I staggered to the bathroom and washed my hands, yanking down the black cloth so I could see myself in all my hideousness. I deserved it. I deserved to have to see myself like this, like I really was — bestial and monstrous.

I’d defiled such beauty, and my self-loathing and grief were written across my face every bit as much as those scars were. I didn’t deserve to get to cry, not after what I’d done, no matter how many memories haunted me and left me this way.

I couldn’t blame the fire for everything. Obviously there was something wrong with me, deep inside where there was no way to fix it, and I could only fight that so much.

I’d lost that fight tonight, and I didn’t know how long I could keep fighting it before I gave in like the monster I was.

I got back into bed, ignoring him when he whispered that he was sorry into the darkness. I didn’t care how sorry he was. He shouldn’t have tried to get free, not when all I’d done was give him kindness and gentleness and…

And held him captive, and humiliated him, and tortured him in my own way.

Raped him, because wringing that orgasm out of him had been just that.

When had I become this?

Was there any coming back from it?

I didn’t know.

On the wake of those thoughts, I fell into blessedly dreamless sleep.