Page 7 of His Pet

“Please.” Justin raises his hand, his movement too uncoordinated for me to tell whether he’s trying to push me away or grab his cock and finish the job. “Who…?”

“I’m your new Master, little pet.”

“Huh?” His eyes focus on me for a moment and he shakes his head again. “Wait…”

I don’t wait. I stroke him faster, needing him so close to the edge that he’s unable to think straight. He needs to know that I’m in charge here, and that good behavior will be rewarded. “Do you want me to stop?” Just when he’s almost there, his cock hardening further and his body tensing up, I slow the movement of my hand. I keep stroking him, letting him hover in that maddening spot where the climax is so close it hurts, but is just outside of reach. “Yes or no, Justin,” I say louder to get through the haze in his mind.

“Please,” he whimpers. His arms flail and this time he’s definitely reaching for his cock.

I grab his wrist and squeeze. “Stop.” That’s a command he needs to learn as soon as possible. “Keep your hands down.” I demonstrate by pushing his wrist against the table. “If I have to restrain you, I’ll make it hurt.” I don’t enjoy causing pain the way Mikhail does, but some disciplining is always necessary, especially with new pets. They learn faster with the threat of punishment hanging over them.

Justin’s breath catches, then starts coming in sharp gasps. “Please,” he repeats, still too out of it to string a full sentence together. He does, however, stop moving, his eyes fluttering closed.

A light smack on his cheek has them flying open again. “Keep your eyes on me,” I say. “I’m your new Master, and I’m the one giving you this orgasm. You will keep looking at me as you come, or you’ll get punished. Is that clear?”

Tears well up in those beautiful eyes, but he manages to keep them open and mostly focused on me, although I can tell how difficult it is for him. His whimper mostly sounds like an assent, not that I need it, so I let go of his wrist and hold his gaze as I lean over his cock again. He's straining his neck too much trying to keep me in his field of vision, so I quickly stuff a pillow under his head. No one can say I don't take good care of my pets.

“Eyes on me,” I repeat, then get to business.

Chapter 5

Justin

This is the weirdest dream ever. I’ve had sex dreams before, but never this vivid.

Whereas the previous dreams were blurry and confusing, often rapidly changing the way dreams tend to do, this one feels almost too realistic. My mind is hazy and my body oddly heavy, but I’m awake and aware.

What do they call it? Lucid dreams? Shouldn’t you be able to influence them somehow? If this is all in my head, I should have a say in what happens.

Not that I’m complaining about my current situation. A large man holding me down and sucking my cock is a damn good dream. If only I could somehow get him to make me come already, but no matter how hard I try to focus, the dream doesn’t change. It’s almost as if…

No. That’s ridiculous. This is clearly a reaction to that knife-wielding weirdo incident. I’ve discovered some pretty disturbing things about myself and this is how my brain processes them. That’s the only possible option because this isn’t real. People don’t get kidnapped from their beds. That only happens in books and movies. Except…

There was a rumor going around campus a few weeks ago about a girl being taken, but that’s all that it was. A rumor. I’m dreaming, and my mind felt it necessary to conjure a muscular Black man with an eyebrow piercing who claims he’s my Master, calls me his pet, and gives me head. It’s a lot to unpack, possibly with a therapist, because what the fuck? But that’s for later. Now, I’ll just lie back and enjoy the dream.

I have to give it to my mind, though, because my dream Master certainly knows how to suck dick. It never felt this good the few times I’ve experienced it before. The way he takes me so deep that I’m hitting the back of his throat is out of this world. Then he swallows around me, and I moan like a wounded animal, too close to coming to bother feeling embarrassed. Besides, I’m alone in my dorm room. My roommate won’t be back for hours, so there’s no shame in letting loose and enjoying this oddly vivid dream.

The man’s touch feels so real, and so does the hard surface I’m lying on. My mattress isn’t the best, but this truly feels like I’m lying on a wooden table. I run my fingers along the surface, trying to break through the illusion.

My head feels a little clearer, although I can’t really think about anything other than my dream Master’s mouth on my cock and the desperate need to come. Is this really my secret fantasy? God, it’s so fucked up. I definitely need therapy.

“Eyes on me.” The man’s rich baritone sounds unfamiliar, as does his face. My imagination is definitely working overtime.

As I ponder the man’s voice, I forget to follow his command. Sharp pain shoots from my inner thigh, making me cry out. The pain is too real for a dream, but the alternative is too terrifying to consider.

I’m definitely not helpless in an unfamiliar room, being groped by a stranger. It’s not real.

It’s not.

Wet kisses soothe the aching spot on my thigh where the man bit me. Dream me will have a bruise there for certain, and a sick part of my mind finds being claimed in such a primal way oddly hot. I’ve never been claimed by anyone before, not like this.

“I said, eyes on me.” There’s a dangerous edge to my dream Master’s voice now, one that makes shivers run down my spine. Or perhaps that’s just the impending orgasm that’s still avoiding me. Every time I’m close, the stranger backs off, keeping me in a constant state of arousal that’s somehow both pleasurable and painful at once.

I shouldn’t be able to open my eyes in a dream, but I do, and my subconscious provides me with another image of that strange room and a man I’ve definitely never seen before. Unease niggles at the back of my mind, but the arousal drowns it out.

The man’s eyes, black like the darkest night, capture mine with such intensity that I can’t look away even if I wanted to. Damn, he’s so hot. Even a straight man would appreciate that, right?

“Good boy,” the man says.