Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“I can’t sleep in that.”
“Of course you can. I like to know my pet is nice and safe in her crate at night.”
“But what if I need to go to the bathroom?”
“You’ll go before you get in, of course. Don’t worry. You’ll be let out in the morning.”
“But… what? Let out?” I stare at him, horrified. “You can’t lock me away in a crate and leave me here all night by myself.”
“Of course I would never do that. That would be unsafe. There are cameras in this room, and there is a handler ready to come and get you out if you need to be taken out. Don’t worry, Charlie. I’m not going to let any harm come to my pet.”
“A handler? What handler?”
“You will likely never need to meet them, but I can promise you, they will be there for you if you do. I am not always available in a given moment to attend to my pet myself. If you need to be walked or toileted, I will have a professional handle that.”
“I don’t want anybody coming near me,” I frown.
“A good pet has to be well-socialized,” he replies. “I don’t want you becoming entirely un-handleable by anybody else. I want a well-behaved pet.”
Oh. Right. He’s insane.
It’s easy to forget that because so much of what he does is hot, but Marcus is completely unhinged. He is not kidding right now. Not even a little bit. He wants me to climb into this bed cage and sleep while completely locked away and vulnerable. He’s not even going to be here with me. He’s putting me away in some kind of kennel, and he’s leaving me in the care of strangers I don’t know and haven’t met.
“Please, just let me sleep in the cage, but have the doors open? That’s how you train puppies,” I say. “You don’t just put them in a cage and shut the door and leave. You let them get comfortable and confident first.”
Marcus smiles at me, and I know that I made the right choice by buying into his little pet fantasy. I’m speaking his language right now, and he loves it.
“You make a good point, pet,” he says. “I’ll allow you to sleep with the doors open tonight. But, be aware that the chip you’ve got in you will transmit your location every few minutes. There is no running from me now.”
“I understand,” I say, even as I try not to freak the fuck out right to his face. I have made myself a captive to this billionaire. I am a toy for him now, nothing more than something to play with. There’s no escape. There’s nothing besides doing what he wants.
“I will need to go out and see friends and things, though,” I say. “I can’t be your kinky prisoner all the time. People need me for things.”
“Hm,” he says, as if that had not occurred to him. “Yes. I suppose people will need you for things. Don’t worry, pet. I am not an unreasonable man.”
He is absolutely a wildly unreasonable man, and that is unfortunately a large part of my attraction to him. Nobody has ever treated me this way before. Nobody had the capacity to. This experience is entirely unique.
“Shower and bed,” he says. “Unless you want to sleep with my come drying on your tender skin.”
“Can I shower myself, or is the shower one of those elevated tubs with a leash attachment?”
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I regret them. A light sparks in his eye.
“That is an idea,” he says. “That’s a very good idea. A leash in the shower. You’re quite creative aren’t you, my pet. Be sure to keep sharing your little notions with me.”
“I don’t have anything here…”
“Check the drawers. You have everything here. All your clothes and personal effects were moved.”
And gone through, I imagine. Did they find my notes? I hope not.
He’s insane. Crazy in the way people who don’t have to worry about anything in the world inevitably go crazy. But he’s not so crazy he won’t mind me having a whole secret agenda to undermine and expose him.
I open the drawers, finding my clothes folded neatly inside them. Laundered, too, judging by the smell of them. And then there’s more, newer versions of my favorite underwear. Someone has not just moved my things. Someone has analyzed them and replaced some of them. Someone has chosen new attire in similar sizes.
My feelings swing between amazement, annoyance, and a very small amount of appreciation. This was a lot of effort, all made to keep me comfortable.
I look back at him as I pick some clothes to sleep in. He is watching me with an inscrutable expression. I wonder if he knows.
Does he know? God. I am absolutely swimming in guilt right now and cursing the fact that I put it down on paper. I thought I was being so smart by avoiding digital footprints. But I’ve left my notebook for either Marcus to have found, or the next tenant to find.