Page 4

4

Griffin

I hadn’t meant to laugh, but I found myself doing just that as I watched him struggle to figure out the water bowl. Had it not been for the fact that he’d just relieved himself, he surely would have just cupped his hands in the water and drank that way. It was too unwieldy for him to try to use it as a cup, which meant…

This.

I could practically imagine the tail plug in his ass soon, wagging as he drank out of his water bowl and fueling my fantasies for days.

My look turned from something amused into something heated, and I knew he’d be even more disconcerted to see that. He still thought I was going to barge into his cell and rape him.

He had no idea what he was dealing with.

So far, I’d gotten his clothing off of him without touching him, I’d gotten him to drink from a dog’s water bowl, and he’d pissed down the drain — because otherwise, he’d have soaked himself, I was sure. Everything I’d asked of him, he’d eventually done. He was a good student once he was backed into a corner… literally and figuratively.

Next he’d either need food or he’d need to go to the bathroom, and I was willing to take bets on how long it would take for him to admit that much to me. He wouldn’t enjoy it once he had, but he’d learn that there were certain things you had to do.

It wasn’t a cat, who could take care of its own needs when it felt like. No, puppies had to be properly taken care of, and mine would be.

“I recognize you,” he said abruptly, his eyes going a little wide as he brushed the back of his hand against his mouth.

I started. I hadn’t expected that, not then, but I shrugged. “And?”

“And?” he asked, incredulous, as he rose and grabbed the blanket again to hide himself from me. “You have to have paparazzi at your doorstep. How the fuck do you think you can get away with this?”

“Because the paparazzi don’t come to my doorstep anymore,” I told him. My voice turned dark, warning him to get off of that path.

I was nothing. I was a has-been. I had left the industry after the accident, and there’d be no one trying to scale the gates for a glamor shot.

“Oh, right,” he said, making a rude noise. “They don’t want you anymore. Not with…” He wiggled his fingers in my direction. “Must’ve sucked, huh? To have all of that go downhill.”

I lifted my chin, refusing to let the familiar self-loathing make me duck my head in shame. I wouldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let him see a single iota of weakness, and my usual response… well, it was one wrought of weakness, not strength .

“It’s done with.” I flashed him a grim smile. “And now I have all the time in the world to spend at home to train my new puppy. It’ll give me something to do since, you know, all the rest went downhill.”

It hurt. It stung so much to know how quickly I’d become a thing of the past once my looks no longer held up, once my voice had been damaged and I just couldn’t produce the same music any longer. The royalties still poured in on my older hits, and the settlement had ensured I could live comfortably for years even without those… but I was no longer a part of that world.

No, they’d driven me out with pretty words and sidelong looks, friendly greetings but eyes that never stopped gazing at my ruined face.

Even if my voice hadn’t been affected, I still wouldn’t have been welcome.

But that was fine. Now that I had a project, something to work on, I wouldn’t be nearly as lonely. That had been the whole point of this, hadn’t it? To be less lonely? To find companionship? I didn’t want to pay someone to pretend to like me and have that hit the media.

Instead, I’d chosen this route. I’d taken someone who didn’t want me, someone who was far too pretty and far too much of a reminder of the past, and I was going to warp him until his loyalty was to me alone.

He’d never love me, but I couldn’t blame him for that. He could still obey me and be loyal to me, and he could have a life free of the mundane issues that haunted so many. Bills, jobs, dates, family — they were all burdens that could be easily cast aside.

In a way, I was almost jealous of him. But I’d get to escape too, in my own way, once our training had begun in earnest. Even if I had to return to reality each time a session was over, I could still free myself of my thoughts and burdens whenever I pleased.

“What?” I asked sharply. “Nothing to say about that? No smartass comment?”

He glowered at me, curling back up in the corner of the cell with his blanket. It would get too warm for it before long, and I’d have the most intoxicating video feed to watch as it caught every angle of his body. I’d know what he looked like inside and out before I ever took him.

I didn’t think he’d shut up for long, but I’d take what I could get.

For a moment, we stared at one another, caught in a moment where neither of us dared break the silence. I wasn’t sure if he was actually thinking about what he was going to say or if he was finally out of comments.

It sure as fuck wasn’t because of empathy.

The boy could never know what it was like to be an icon of beauty only to be relegated to nothing more than a beast in appearance… and perhaps it had only been a matter of time until I’d started to act like one, too.

Maybe I should’ve just paid for a hooker, but it was too late now. I had committed, and this was the path I was going to have to take.

“I know you have other needs,” I finally told him. I had to take care of him, at least. “You aren’t going to want to admit you’re hungry or that you have to take a shit.”

He cringed at my bluntness, and it was a near thing on my end to keep from flinching, too. I wasn’t usually this crass, but then, I’d never kidnapped anyone and held them hostage, either.

“But you’re not going to like the alternatives,” I informed him. I paused, canted my head to the side, then admitted, “You aren’t going to like any of the options, though. ”

Was this too much, too fast? Was I going to break him before he even had the chance to turn into what I wanted him to be?

“You are such a sick fuck,” he snarled. “I’m not into scat. You’re gonna take me to a fucking bathroom, because I’m not going to do that down here.”

“No,” I said.

He must’ve seen something in my eyes he didn’t like, cold and immovable, because he edged back more. His back pressed against the concrete wall.

“But we still have to clean you out.”

“Oh, Jesus Fucking Christ, this isn’t happening,” he muttered, closing his eyes and burying his face in the blanket. “I’m going to close my eyes, and I’m going to wake up in my own bed. Alone. Without you here. It’s going to be a really crappy nightmare, but I’m gonna go fuck my girlfriend and forget all about it.”

I waited.

He opened his eyes.

“You’re still there,” he bemoaned.

I snorted. Had he really thought that would work?

“We’ll tackle two things at once,” I told him. “Your behavior will determine what you get to eat. If you’re good, you’ll get a nice meal. If you give me trouble and I have to chain you down… not so much.”

He didn’t like where this was going. I could tell that much.

He was right to worry. I went to one of the cabinets I’d installed along the wall and opened it, searching for the sterile enema kit I’d bought.

He didn’t seem to understand what it was at first. But when I started putting it together, he gave me this dumbfounded, deer-in-headlights look .

I used the hose to fill the bag, and I attached the screw onto the end, making sure the clip keeping the water in place was firmly attached. The hook on the filled bag would be easy enough to hang on one of the cell bars, ominous and a warning he couldn’t ignore.

“What the fuck is that?”

I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or pleased that he didn’t seem to know what it was. I’d definitely be his first experience here — the first of so many things.

“This,” I told him, working the nozzle onto the end of the hose, “is called an enema kit.”

His face drained of color. “No. Oh, no. Fuck no.”

I smiled grimly at him. “Would you rather have an accident? I’d have to squirt you and your blanket and bedding down with water to make sure you’re nice and clean.”

“I don’t have to go that bad, dude,” he told me, shaking his head furiously. “Nope.”

“So you’re refusing?” I asked him, the words formal enough to be ominous, like I was asking him to sign his own death warrant.

He hesitated, staring at me.

“Enemas aren’t pretty,” I told him. “Especially not the first. You’ll be humiliated,” and my cock loved that idea with a passion. “But it would be controlled. It would all go down the drain instead of…” I gestured over the cell. “Somewhere in there. Probably the corner. If you were a dog, you’d get your nose rubbed in it, even, but…” I gave him a brittle smile. “I’m not into scat either.”

He’d still have to be the one sitting down there, smelling it, knowing he’d shamefully had to defecate in the corner. He would hate me for it, but he’d remember that I’d offered him a way out. It wasn’t much better, but it would still allow him some dignity .

Some.

I could see it in his expression, the way he paled and he realized how limited his options were.

“This,” I told him, weighing the full enema bag in one hand. “Or…”

I nodded to the corner of the cell.

“And if you get any thoughts about how it might punish me to have to clean it up, it won’t,” I said flatly. “I knew what I was getting myself into.”

Sometimes, it even startled me, how much I’d figured out in just a short period of time.

“Choose.”