Page 16

A sharp sting across my right asscheek left me gasping and twisted my stomach into knots. I glanced back at Ridge. The pain didn’t stop, only grew worse for a few seconds before it subsided into a dull throbbing ache. I wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it from, but he had a long riding crop clutched loosely in his hand and his eyebrows waggled. Knotted red leather twined in a playful spiral around the glinting, black metal core. My ass continued to ache as I crawled away from him.

The only bonus of the doghouse was that I doubted he would follow me inside. I pushed through the door that swung closed behind me. My first instinct was to try to stand up, since no one could see me, but I quickly realized that unless I wanted to stoop at a very awkward angle the ceiling wasn’t quite high enough for me to get to my feet, and I collapsed back to my knees and slapped the carpeted floor. I dug my fingers into the soft material that felt wonderful against my bare skin.

“You’re my pup, and I can see everything you do in here,” a tinny voice said.

I flinched, glancing around wildly, then spotted the smooth black circle in the corner of the utilitarian square area that made up the first “room” in my new home. It had to be a camera lens. Great, I wouldn’t have any privacy at all. “You will occasionally be given orders to carry out while you’re alone, and I will know if you follow them or not. There is no hiding from me, pup.” Uncle Bowie’s voice had a warming effect on me after the way he’d fucked me, and I both loved and loathed it.

My heart pounded, and for a second, my vision went spotty before I dragged deep breaths into my lungs and crawled through a small doorway into the next room. I let out a sigh of relief.

By no means was this an average living space, but through another door on my left I could see a toilet set in the floor—which was odd, but at least I had one—and beside it was a low sink. Across the room was a soft-looking purple doggy bed that seemed big enough for me to comfortably sprawl in. There was a shelf of sex toys—dildos and plugs—along one wall, but I ignored them and didn’t get close enough to investigate. Near the bed was a microfridge with a glass door. Inside were bottles of water and nothing else that I could see, but that was fine, too, because I couldn’t imagine eating right now.

My ass still stung as I crawled over to the doggy bed, and tears escaped my eyes, not because of the pain but the indignity of it all. I hadn’t done anything wrong out there except take too long to move, and Ridge had hit me. It wouldn’t shock me if this was how everything went. No matter how much I complied I was still going to be hurt. Would they even give those women the money they’d promised to hand over? Or was this all for nothing? My gut sank and all the good feelings from getting fucked wilted in my stomach and turned into bile. I crawled to the bathroom and it took me a second to decide the best way to piss into the toilet. It flushed automatically, and I sighed, hating the noise.

After washing my hands, I crawled toward the bed, and my knees began to burn because I was dragging them too much on the carpet, but all at once, I felt exhausted and couldn’t care less about a few rug burns.

“Drink some water before you go to sleep.” I flinched as Uncle Bowie’s commanding voice echoed in the small space again. Shrugging, I went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. I sipped and figured that was enough, then put the bottle back before climbing into the doggy bed. There were no blankets, and while it was a pleasant temperature to be nude in the doghouse, not having them was odd. I reached up to unbuckle the collar around my throat.

“Leave it.”

I flopped back against the bed and glared at the ceiling. “I can’t sleep with it on. It’s weird.”

“Don’t talk back. You’ll get used to it.”

Growling, I rolled over and faced the wall. Of fucking course he has a microphone in here. I couldn’t even mutter over all this bullshit. I couldn’t say a word, even when I was alone. Tears gathered in my eyes. For some reason the final straw was my complete and total lack of personal space. Fuck me, sure. Hit me. Yeah, okay. But I needed time with my own brain and thoughts. I sniffed as the tears started and covered my face with my hands, unable to stand the idea of Uncle Bowie and Ridge watching me and laughing.

“Oh, look, he’s having a breakdown. Good one, Dad!” Then Ridge would high-five Uncle Bowie.

They’d both been inside me and it felt so good, and they both fucking hated me. I sobbed harder but didn’t want them to know. I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction. I turned and buried my face against the soft lining of the doggy bed.

My parents didn’t give a shit about me.

Uncle Bowie and Ridge didn’t give a shit about me, and they were fucking me.

The sex didn’t bother me, not as much as it probably should, but the fact that they despised me and stuck their dicks in me anyway fucked with my head, since I would’ve never been able to do the same thing. I at least had to like someone I took to bed.

I had nothing anymore.

I’d always thought someday I would at least have a partner who cared about me. Maybe this wouldn’t last forever, but I couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. Even when this ended, I would always have this secret hanging over me like a cloud. I was the man whose parents conned everyone before running, then got fucked by his cousin and uncle. Sure I wouldn’t say those words out loud, but I would know in my heart, and that was enough.

My head began to ache as I continued to cry and tried to stifle the sounds against the bedding, but I couldn’t stop. My face got hot. My muscles ached from curling into a tense ball. Everything had been awful, then fantastic—though still terrible—and now I was just alone in this fantasy hellhole.

It wasn’t fair.

I hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe I could’ve been nicer to Ridge over the years, but nothing I’d done to him warranted this.

My grandparents’ and parents’ actions weren’t anything I’d asked them to do.

“Fuck.” At first, I thought the whisper came over the sound system wired into the doghouse, but then a warm hand landed on my shoulder. “Fuck, okay. You’re okay. I didn’t think this through the whole way,” Uncle Bowie muttered. I was shocked when he climbed into the doggy bed behind me and was able to fit. He was wearing a soft T-shirt and a pair of fleecy pajama pants that felt nice against my skin. I struggled against him, but he shushed me. “You’re okay, pup. You’re all right. It’s rough right now, but you’ll get used to being my pet.”

The shit he whispered wasn’t comforting, but his body heat soothed me. When he slid his strong arms around me, I settled in against the hard strength of his chest, which he pressed to my back.

“Breathe. You’re not going to be injured. You’ll be fed and cared for because you’re a pretty pup who feels so good on my cock, aren’t you?” He breathed the poison praise in my ear. I couldn’t help it; I yearned for the twisted shit he was saying, especially since it seemed like he really did appreciate me being here.

I nodded.

“You loved it when I slid deep into your body and pumped my cum into your ass, didn’t you? Wasn’t that nice?” He stroked his fingers over my chest in a calm circle.

I froze, then nodded again because why lie about how I’d enjoyed the few good things about this fucked-up mess? He moved his hand to rub low on my belly, and I was mortified when his fist closed around my dick. I’d still been hard, somehow, even though I’d never felt this awful and humiliated in my life. What was it about this situation that had my dick in high gear?