He nodded again.
I helped him to the ground, not releasing his wrists. He squirmed harder, but a warning squeeze had him going still again.
“Eat.”
He hesitated, and I nudged him closer to the bowl.
Agonizingly slowly, he leaned down, trying to eat theslop and making a mess in the process. Maybe I was cruel for making something I knew would streak his face with gravy and sauce, but I still hadn’t forgotten him biting my arm the last time I’d tried to clean him up. This time, I’d watch more closely for hints that he was going to strike.
I didn’t want any more dog bites to explain to delivery people, after all.
He ate in silence, until he finally stopped, his breath coming quickly. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’m done.”
I looked dubiously at the bowl. He’d only eaten about half, but I could see where trying to eat was exhausting him. To put my foot down or… “A few more bites,” I compromised again.
He’d never have any idea just how many times I restrained myself from doing what I really wanted to do.
He groaned, but he begrudgingly dipped his head back down, forcing down a few more bites with more difficulty than he had the first part of his meal. I didn’t even have to put more pressure on his wrists.
Once he started obeying — like always — he seemed to fall into this natural progression where his response was to yield. All I had to do was get him there.
“Good boy,” I said.
When he finally finished eating those few bites, craning his head to look up at me with what could only be described as puppy eyes, I pulled him to his feet and let go of his wrists.
“Good boy,” I repeated.
He only cast me this weary look, though there was still enough poison in it to make it clear just how unhappy he was about the entire arrangement — not that I really needed to be told.
“Stay,” I told him. “I’ll get something to clean up yourface,” I added unnecessarily — or at least, one day it would be, because he’d listen when I told him to stay without asking any questions about it.
I kept a wary eye on him as I walked out of the kennel, locking it in place before going to fetch a few baby wipes. I grabbed them and returned, beckoning him over to the side of the cell.
Reluctantly, he walked over to me, and this time when I wiped his face clean, he didn’t try anything.
He was already learning. There would always be consequences.
I could see him looking at the waterer, and I knew he wanted it. I knew he didn’t want to drink out of it while I was there.
I knew just as much that I didn’t care.
I wanted to see his lips wrapped around a cock, sucking and tonguing it as he tried to coax out what was inside. I wanted him to get used to the heft and the feel of it, so when I finally let him suck me…
He was going to be glorious at it.
The thought had me adjusting my pants to accommodate the growing erection.
How long could I go with just watching him and only touching him at times like tonight when he misbehaved so much that I had to show him the way? I didn’t know. I wanted to turn him over, to push him against the wall and fuck him, but I was trying so hard to be patient.
I wanted him to come to me, which meant I might well be waiting for a long time.
“Your hands, too,” I told him, cleaning those off as well.
I hadn’t wanted the mitts this early, but since he was going to cause trouble, I was going to have to make sure he obeyed me even when I wasn’t there. I didn’t want to have tosupervise all of his meals — hot as it was to watch him bury his face in the bowl to try to get the food out. And I didn’t want to have to worry about him trying to get the waterer out of place.
There was the harness, too… But that could wait a little longer.
I went to the boxes, sorting through them until I found the one with the puppy gear. These mitts would be comfortable for his hands, but they would keep his fingers from stretching out. Even where there was a slight give, there was too much padding for him to be able to grasp anything.
