3. Chapter 3
Cameron
I sigh and toss the tablet on the coffee table. I have designs to work on, but nothing pressing, and I’m not feeling inspired tonight. Truth be told, I haven’t felt inspired in a while.
Lying back on the couch, I consider jerking off to kill some time and maybe release some of the pent-up pressure I’ve been feeling lately, but stroking my own cock just isn’t fun.
I could order an escort. Alex or maybe Connor.
I call on Alex more often because he doesn’t have many hard limits and doesn’t mind me taking a belt to him, provided I pay the extra fee for kink.
But I’m not in a mood for paid company and pretend pleasantries.
How long has it been since I’ve had something real, someone just to myself?
The cage in the basement has been empty for too long, that’s for sure, but while I love keeping pets, it always hurts too much when I have to put them down.
After the last one, I promised myself I’d never go through that again.
Cal had been a lovely pet, receptive to training with just a bit of persuasion, and the sounds he made when I fucked him were out of this world.
But, like all the others, he too turned into a zombie after a few weeks.
He no longer watched me with trepidation when I entered the dungeon.
Didn’t involuntarily laugh at my stupid jokes only to berate himself for it later.
As his tiny spark of defiance slowly died, it took everything else with it until he was empty.
It’s always the same. They become more and more distant, then they switch off.
They go through the motions and follow orders, but the spirit isn’t there anymore.
They’re zombies, through and through, and no one wants to fuck a zombie.
At least before, I had my friend Mikhail to put them down for me.
Now that he’s leaving the state, I’d have to do it myself, and I really don’t have the stomach for it.
No, no more pets for me. My hand will just have to do tonight. Or a fleshlight, if I weren’t too lazy to get one from the bedroom.
My phone rings just as I unbutton my pants and grab my cock.
I’m not even fully hard, like my cock isn’t that interested in a masturbation session either, but what else am I supposed to do to kill the evening?
Watch TV? Read? What do normal people do on their evenings when they’re home alone?
I suppose I could visit Indulgence and find some entertainment there, but getting dressed and driving across the town feels like too much of a chore.
The phone keeps ringing. I heave a sigh and reach for it while still lazily stroking myself.
The caller’s number is hidden, which isn’t surprising.
Most of my clients come from powerful crime families and they rarely use anything but burner phones.
I put my customer-friendly voice on as I accept the call.
“Cameron Matthews. What can I do for you?”
“Well, you could open the gate,” my friend’s voice comes through the receiver.
“Mikhail? What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving.” I jump up to let him through the gate and tuck away my miserable erection.
By the time Mikhail’s car rolls to my front door, I’m waiting there to greet him. He grabs my forearm and pats my back in a half hug. “I am,” he says. “I just stopped by with a parting gift.”
My mood sours at the confirmation that he truly is leaving, but I force a smile. If this is the last time I see him for a while, I want to enjoy it. Besides, who doesn’t like gifts?
“A gift? Tell me.” I’m wary, as Mikhail isn’t the type to give out random gifts, and the way he smirks is a little alarming, but I trust this man with my life. Whatever he brought won’t be terrible.
“I think I’d better show you.” With a flourish, Mikhail opens the trunk of his car and reveals… A body. Oh boy.
At a closer look, I see the stranger’s chest move, so at least he’s alive.
I take in his pretty, boyish face and try to remember if I know him.
It would be Mikhail’s style to bring me an enemy to torture and kill, but I’m fairly certain I’ve never met this man before.
I would have remembered those smooth, adorable features and that cute, button nose.
What color are his eyes, I wonder? Then I clear my throat. “So, you brought me this… guy?”
“A new pet.”
My heart does something weird and painful in my chest and I stagger back. “No.”
“Hear me out—”
I don’t let him finish. “No, Mikhail. Take him back wherever you grabbed him from, or kill him, or whatever. I don’t care. Just take him away from here, please. You know I can’t, not again.”
Mikhail sighs and grabs my shoulders. Whether to provide comfort or to keep me from running is anyone’s guess. “The ones before weren’t a good fit for you. Physically, maybe, but their personalities were wrong. That’s why they always broke. This one is perfect.”
There’s no doubt the stranger’s attractive, and the glimpse of collarbone peeking from his loose T-shirt makes me want to run my tongue all over him, but I can’t take another pet.
I turn away from the tempting sight and fold my arms across my chest. “No. I can’t go through losing a pet again, Mikhail.
You know that. You were there after Cal.
” He got me terribly drunk in a stupid attempt to comfort me.
Anger spikes as I remember the pain I felt. Not from the epic hangover, even if it was for the history books, but the pain from losing yet another pet. Mikhail saw what losing Cal did to me, and yet he brought me another?
“I can’t.” My voice sounds pleading even to my own ears. “You’re leaving. If it goes wrong…” And it will. It always does.
“If it does, I’ll come back to take care of it. But it won’t. I pulled a knife on him and he got hard, Cam. He’s meant for a collar.”
I begrudgingly look at the small form in the trunk again.
Is there such a thing as being meant for a collar?
Some people seek out Dom-sub relationships, but the consensual stuff just isn’t for me.
There are no limits in the relationship between a Master and a pet aside from those I set myself.
Is Mikhail right? Could someone really be meant for that? It sounds a little too good to be true.
“Who is he?” I ask in an attempt to give myself more time to think.
Mikhail shrugs. “Some college kid. Justin Palmer. Studies accounting, of all things. A boring little innocent pet that gets off on being controlled. Perfect, huh?”
“Perfect,” I agree absently as I crouch next to the trunk and brush a lock of hair away from Justin’s face.
He definitely looks innocent with his face all relaxed in his sleep, although that peaceful expression won’t last long.
The moment he wakes up, it will shift into that delightful dread and despair and, if Mikhail is right, desire.
Since he has trained prime sex slaves for a trafficking ring for years, I suppose he would know.
“I’ll kill him if you truly don’t want him,” Mikhail says, “but wouldn’t it be a shame? Such a pretty thing going to waste?”
“You’re a dick.” I glare at him. He’s known me since we were kids, and he knows all the right things to say to make me change my mind. It really would be a shame to kill such a pretty thing. “Fine. I’ll take him.”
The decision weighs heavily, but I also feel a spark of hope. Maybe this time, it will be different.
“I knew I’d make you see the reason,” Mikhail replies with a wide grin. “Do you want me to carry him downstairs?”
“Nah. I’ve got him.”
Justin is lightweight, short and scrawny, just the way I like my pets.
It makes it easier to handle them, and there’s just something soothing about having a smaller body curl up into me as I sleep or writhe under me as I fuck.
Unlike Mikhail, I’ve never been into girls, but sweet little twinks are just my thing, and I can already tell Justin will be the sweetest once he’s properly broken in.
Training him will be fun. I’ll just have to be extra careful not to push him too far. I can do that, can’t I?
Mikhail holds the basement door open for me and flips on the light.
Shortly after I bought the house, I had the basement rebuilt into a spacious dungeon with its own facilities, quite similar to Mikhail’s setup in the Morozov compound.
Well, his former setup, seeing as he burned the mansion down with everyone inside.
There’s a spacious bathroom, king-sized bed, and some basic kink equipment.
A sturdy cage occupies one corner of the room, set up so that I have free access to it from all sides.
It’s only about waist-high, so pets can sit up but not stand, and not quite long enough for them to stretch out unless they put their feet through the bars, which they rarely do.
It’s funny how they come to consider the cage as their safe space, even if it’s not.
“It’s kinda dusty,” Mikhail notes, wrinkling his nose.
“Haven’t been in the mood to come down here lately.
” I go for a casual tone, but there’s no fooling my best friend.
He knows something’s not right with me, and I feel like a dick for spoiling his happiness with his new girl.
He even brought me a gift. I should smile and be grateful, not mope because I’ve been feeling empty lately.
Mikhail sighs. “Cam…”
I cut him off abruptly. “I’m fine. Thank you for the gift. How long will he stay asleep?”
“Two or three hours. He’ll probably be dizzy when he wakes up, maybe a little nauseous. You know the drill.”
I do indeed. Justin isn’t the first pet Mikhail has brought me.
He’s easily the prettiest, though. In the soft light from the overhead lamps, he looks small and vulnerable laid out on my bondage table.
What I took for a T-shirt is in fact a pajama top with a mouse running around a Pi symbol.
I snort as I read the writing. “π-jama Runner. A math nerd. How cute.” I’ve never had a math nerd before.
“I didn’t have time for the usual background check,” Mikhail says. “He looks healthy and there weren’t any meds aside from the usual stuff in his room, but you might want to ask him about allergies and potential issues.”
Because I can’t really take my pet human to a hospital if something goes wrong. “I will. Thanks again. Do you want to hang out for a bit?” I offer because it’s polite, but I’m hoping he refuses. Now that he’s given me a new toy, I can’t wait to play with it.
Mikhail, bless him, knows what’s going through my head. “Nah, I have my own toy to get back to. You have fun with yours. And Cam? Just…” He trails off and runs a hand through his hair. “Call me, okay?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I hear rumors that you aren’t as dead as you claim to be.” I meet a lot of people and most of them want to chat during long tattoo sessions. I know all the underworld gossip.
“I’m counting on it, but that’s not what I meant. I just… If you feel like, I don’t know, like you want to chat or something, call, okay? Don’t…” He shifts in place uncomfortably. “Don’t do something stupid.”
That manages to get my attention. “Like what?” Does he think I’d hurt Justin? Mikhail averts his eyes and that’s when I realize what he means. My jaw drops. “You think I’d hurt myself? I’m not depressed, Mikhail, nor am I suicidal, for fuck’s sake. I’ve just been in a funk lately.”
“Okay, okay. Whatever. Just…”
“Yeah, I’ll call.”
It’s sweet that he cares. Mikhail has always been more on the sociopathic side, so for him to start talking about feelings, he must be truly worried.
I haven’t been acting that strange, have I?
I mean, sure, I haven’t talked to people much and barely left my house aside from work, but that’s just because sometimes getting out of bed feels too much like a chore.
That’s not depression, that’s just laziness.
And yes, maybe my designs lately haven’t been as great as they used to be, but I just haven’t been feeling inspired. Artist’s block is a thing.
“I’m fine. Really.” I can already feel my energy returning as I look at my new pet. “Thank you for caring, Mike.” I inject a ridiculous amount of affection into my voice, hoping that levity will make Mikhail stop analyzing my mental state. I really am fine.
“Ugh, I told you not to call me that,” Mikhail grumbles, as expected. “Fucking Americans. I’m outta here. Have fun.”
“You too!” I call after him. Then the door clicks shut, locking me in with my new pet. For the first time in a long while, my smile is genuine. This will be fun.