Page 34 of Becoming His Pet

With a roll of her eyes, more a show of bravado she was quickly losing while in his presence, she spun around.

“Put your hands down. I want to see your ass.” He pushed away her arms when she tried to cover her bare bottom. Wasn’t it enough humiliation to have been in the fucking cage? Now he wanted to survey his handiwork?

She jumped when his fingers trailed over what she assumed were the markings of the cane.

“No broken skin. Good.” He patted the bottom of her ass, making her cheek jiggle. The heat overtook her face. Exactly how much did he want her to hate him?

“Can I please go now?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“To the washroom and then the kitchen, yes,” he said in the soft, casual voice she remembered from the flower shop. But she wouldn’t be fooled. That guy—that hot guy she’d instantly fantasized over—wasn’t in the cabin with her.

She made her way to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. It was a flimsy handle lock that he’d break in a second if he really wanted to get in, but at least she had the strength to try.

After she relieved herself, she jumped in the shower, aiming the cool spray of water over her face. She could get out of this. She could. She just needed to think.

When she turned around to grab the soap, the water hit her ass, making her hiss and jump out of the spray. Fuck, that hurt. She fisted the soap and lathered up, rinsing off quickly and getting out of the shower.

Once dried off, she took a minute to survey the damage of her ass in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Red, raised welts ran across her ass. He’d left her thighs alone, and she supposed that was about as much mercy as he would show her. Only one small bruise amongst the stripes, but she knew sitting wouldn’t be pleasant. Not for a day at least.

Remembering he’d gone to the store for supplies, she quietly made her way into the bedroom to search for some clothes. The bed was made from last night’s sleep. He’d made the bed.

“Nora, come to the kitchen,” he called in that damn stern tone of his. She wanted to tell him to fuck off. But her stomach growled, overruling her temper for the moment.

“I need clothes,” she called back, shielding herself with the towel still wrapped around her body.

“No,” he said.

Just no.

She fisted her hand and hid behind the door to shake it at him. How the fuck was she going to get through this without telling him to fuck off and earning herself another dose of punishment?

Readjusting the towel, she left the bedroom and met him in the kitchen. Food would get her mind thinking straight again. Once her stomach was full, she’d have a better idea of how to proceed.

“No towel, Nora. Pets don’t cover themselves.” He plucked the plush cotton towel from where she’d tucked it and yanked it free of her body.

Her hands covered herself instinctively, but his tsking sound suggested she stop it.

“I’m not sitting here naked with you,” she countered, eyeing the towel, now puddled on the floor at his feet.

“You’re right. You’re not.” He picked up a silver bowl from the counter and brought it back to her. “Well, maybe. It’s really your choice. I don’t give many chances as you may have noticed already. So, if I were you, I’d play this round better than the last few.”

The snark in his tone deserved to be smacked. His entire face deserved to be punched. But she was too mortified to even breathe.

The silver bowl he held wasn’t a normal serving dish. It was a bowl meant for a small animal, a dog, or a cat—or a human pet, apparently.

“You already punished me,” she said softly, unable to tear her gaze from the dish.

“This isn’t punishment. This is just how it is between us. Until I can trust you again, remember?”

He had said something along those lines before her shower. But he had just been fucking with her to get her to cooperate. Right?

“I don’t want to be—I mean—”

He placed the dish back on the counter and framed her face with his hands. “I know.” His voice gentled, but he wasn’t giving in. “But it doesn’t change anything. One chance to eat, do you obey me and get your tummy filled or do you disobey, be stubborn, and go hungry?”

If his gaze wasn’t so focused, if there weren’t so much concern and firmness in his expression, maybe she could have found the strength to fight him again. But she was a realist. She was nude, stranded, had no cell phone, and was starving.

“Fine,” she said.

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