If he wants a pet, then that’s exactly how he’ll treat me. As an animal that belongs to him.
On the other hand, if he says it’s over at the end of a month . . . I believe that, too.
Whatever else he may be, Dean is not a liar. He’ll keep his word.
“Yes,” I say, the word barely more than a breath of air.
Dean hears it all the same, and his eyes gleam with triumph. It’s the look in the devil’s eyes when some poor soul accepts his bargain.
I almost snatch back my agreement, but it’s too late. Dean is already drawing the collar taught between his hands.
“Take off your clothes,” he says.
“W-what?”
“Strip,” he orders. “I want to see what I’m getting.”
I gape at him in horror.
The music throbs from the speaker, ordering me to obey just as much as Dean’s imperious stare.
He’s not joking. He’s never joking.
Slowly I obey.
I pull the sweater over my head, dropping it down on the dusty floor. Then I begin to unbutton my blouse. My heart is jittering in my chest, and yet somehow my fingers are steady. I unfasten each button in turn, then take off the blouse and drop it down on top of the sweater.
I unzip my skirt and let it fall. I step clear of the puddle of fabric, standing in my underwear before a man for the very first time.
My bra and panties are plain cotton, unmatched—the bra gray and the underwear blue. I’m still wearing my knee socks and shoes, because there’s nowhere to sit and I don’t want to hop on one foot trying to take them off.
Dean doesn’t seem to care about the socks. His eyes are fixed on my body alone.
“Underwear, too,” he orders.
I have never been naked around another human in my adult life. I don’t use the communal showers and I don’t even strip down fully in front of Rakel—we face the opposite wall while changing.
Yet what I feel isn’t embarrassment—it’s curiosity.
What will Dean think of my body?
Am I beautiful?
I don’t even know.
We can never really see ourselves except reflected in other people’s eyes.
I unclasp my bra and let the shoulder straps fall. Then I drop it on the ground.
My breasts are small but ripe, like peaches. The nipples stand out from the flesh, delicate and stiff.
I watch Dean’s face closely to see his reaction.
His eyes widen and his jaw twitches. His nostrils flare like a stallion scenting a mare in heat.
It’s lust, pure lust. He likes the way I look.
Emboldened, I drop my panties too, stepping clear.
Now I’m standing naked in only my socks, my pussy bare to his view. Slowly, I turn on the spot, showing him that round, full ass that he spanked so recently.
I’m displaying myself to him.
I want his stare.
I want his approval.
And Dean wants to inspect me.
He walks around me like a buyer at auction, looking me up and down, evaluating my body.
His eyes are a hundred pairs of hands passing over my flesh.
I stand still, shoulders back, chest thrust out to his gaze.
Dean cups my ass in his hand, squeezing my buttock as if examining the firmness. Then he circles around to the front and touches my breast. He tests how it fills his hand, tilting his head approvingly as the curve of my breast lines up perfectly with the curve of his palm.
I shiver as his thumb slides across my stiff nipple.
“Very good,” he says softly.
A rush of heat, and my mouth salivates at his approval.
I’m discovering something about myself in this moment.
I’ll do anything for a compliment.
I want praise. I want it badly. And I especially want it from this man, who doesn’t like anyone or anything.
“Lift your hair,” he orders.
I lift up the curls that have fallen loose, baring the base of my neck.
Dean takes the leather collar and wraps it around my throat with the ring in the front. He fastens the clasp behind me.
Then he steps back to admire the effect—my figure naked but for a pair of socks and the leather circlet around my neck.
“Perfect,” he breathes.
My heart is thundering. I can feel the aching wetness between my thighs. I had hoped Dean would touch me there, too.
“Down on all fours,” he orders.
I drop to my knees and then place my palms on the dusty boards.
“Crawl,” he says.
I crawl in a slow circle before him, my face burning with embarrassment. It’s degrading and humiliating. My ass and pussy feel horribly exposed as I turn around. I can feel Dean looking down on me, and I wonder if he’s laughing at me in his head.
But he doesn’t laugh. When I chance a glance upward, I see his cock straining against the fly of his trousers, so thick that it looks like a soda can shoved down the front of his pants. A tiny wet spot soaks through the material where the head is pressed.
My mouth waters even more.
“Do you know how to suck cock?” Dean asks.
I sit back on my heels, looking up at him. I shake my head.
“You’re going to learn,” he says.
He pulls off his own sweater and lays it on the dusty ground. He sits down and whistles for me, pointing to the space next to him.
I start to stand up and he barks, “No!”
Understanding, I crawl over to him on hands and knees.
He grabs the ring of my collar and pulls my head down so I’m curled up next to him with my head in his lap. Then he unzips his trousers.
His cock springs out, as pale as the rest of him. The shaft is thick and white, veined like marble, while the head is smooth and faintly pink. Clear fluid beads at the tip. I want to taste it.
“Suck it like a popsicle,” he tells me. “Gently. Don’t scratch me with your teeth.”
His cock is bigger than any popsicle I ever put in my mouth. But I want to try.
I close my lips around the head. I lick it with my tongue, tasting the sharp spark of salt from that leaking fluid. More saliva floods my mouth, and I’m able to run my lips and tongue smoothly over his cock while I suck gently.
My head lays in his lap, my ear pressed against his thigh. Only part of his cock fits in my mouth, but Dean doesn’t force it any further. He lets me suck on the head while he strokes his fingers in my hair.
His touch is incredibly soothing. The sucking and his strong fingertips against my scalp put me in a trance state.
Dean takes the pins out of my hair so the curls are loose. He runs his fingers through the hair in slow, lazy swirls, sometimes with pressure, sometimes with light swoops.
Warmth floods through my body. Every muscle relaxes.
He’s petting me.
And I like it.
I keep sucking his cock.
After ten or twenty minutes, Dean reaches down between my thighs and rubs my pussy. He rubs me in time with my sucking. The harder and faster I suck his cock, the more pressure he applies against my clit.
I moan around his cock, grinding my pussy against his hand.
The dual sensation of his warm flesh in my mouth and his warm hand against my clit is phenomenally satisfying. I want to keep sucking and I want to keep grinding against him.
I feel half asleep, floating in this erotic dream-state where I’m a good little pet earning my reward.
After all, is it so bad to be a pet?
All it means is that someone loves you. Someone’s taking care of you.