Being owned – Part 8
I awoke early. He was still asleep, snoring faintly. Last evening, when the effect of the drug had finally worn off, he had brought me some food. Hungry as I had been, I had wolfed it down, while he was watching me. Smiling he had sat on the big bed, watched me licking my fingers afterwards. “Tonight, you will stay here. I’ll go out.” And he had left me there and then. He had left me a book, nothing special or really interesting, but it helped pass the time. Late, he had come back, undressed and gotten into bed. My place was the big dog bed on the floor, my toilet a litter tray in the bathroom. Silently I got up and went to the bathroom. I didn’t want to use the litter tray. As …