“Then I’ll eventually force-feed you and put a tube down your throat to make sure you get water,” I said evenly.
“So why shouldn’t I just wait for that?”
If he thought that was the better option, he’d never been force-fed before. “Make yourself miserable, then.” I shrugged and deliberately set the collar next to the padlock on the nearby shelf. “I’ll just leave this here.” I met his eyes, but he flinched and looked away first. “You know the drill,” I said. “When you’re ready to give in, just let out a little bark.”
If looks could kill, I’d have dropped dead then and there. As it was, I watched him without a word before turning.
I waited until I was at the top of the stairs before telling him, “Oh, and I’m not coming back until either you give me that bark or I have to chain you down and force-feed you. You decide which is preferable.”
“Fuck off, you ugly-ass scarred bastard,” he muttered.
My face went blank, but I said nothing of it. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t been called worse, and I was sure he had more where that came from.
9
Ryder
As usual, all of the options sucked.
The fact that I already knew I’d be putting that stupid fucking collar on by the end of the day — or night, whatever it was — was even worse. I wouldn’t be able to hold out for long, but I was going to hold out as long as I could.
Then I’d have to bark.
Then I’d have to put the collar around my neck.
Then I’d have to padlock it closed.
It made my gorge rise. I glanced over at the shelf where the inevitable waited, shuddering. Why was I even putting this off?
That was a dangerous thought, one I didn’t enjoy having. But part of me wanted to get it over with. It would mean seeing this part done and moving on to the next insane demand, which I wasn’t ready to do. I was having a hard enough time comprehending the collar.
It wasn’t even the worst thing he’d made me do — to myself — but it felt like it was.
Time passed, my dry mouth getting drier and drier. I braced myself, knowing I was going to be giving up yet another piece of myself and handing it over to him.
And I barked.
Shame shot through me like fire down my spine, and I fought not to cry. It wouldn’t help, and he’d probably just get off on it.
I barked again, hoping he was looking at the creepy-ass cameras so I didn’t have to keep sporadically letting out doggie sounds to try to get his attention.
Either he hadn’t heard me, or he’d chosen to take his time because it seemed to take an eternity before I heard him at the top of the stairs.
When I did, I resigned myself to the fact that I’d given in and that snarking off to him wasn’t going to help.
“Ready for your collar?” he asked, tone as mild as if I hadn’t insulted him and pissed him off the last time we’d spoken.
I couldn’t say the words. No, I wasn’treadyfor it, and I’d neverbeready for it. But I’d decided to do it, and that was… something.
For once, he took pity on me — or something — and he crossed over to get the strip of leather. He coiled it in one hand before heading over to the cage with it in one hand and the padlock in the other. It was simple enough, just like the other had been. There was an O-ring on either side, and they’d be joined by the lock.
Then it wasn’t going anywhere.
I got up, angling my body so my limp cock wasn’t directly facing him, and I went to the side of it. I took the collar from him, fumbling with it a little before taking the lock too. I hesitated then slowly hooked it between the two rings.
“Close it,” he told me after a long moment of us standing there, looking at each other.
I didn’t know if I could.
