Becoming His Pet

Becoming His Pet

Measha Stone

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Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, L.L.C.

StormyNightPublications dot com

Stone, Measha

Becoming His Pet

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Shutterstock/Pete Gallop and Dreamstime/Brett Critchley

Chapter One

The heavy scent of cigarette smoke dragged Greg Turner from his uncomfortable sleep. Sniffing, he bolted out of bed, ready to battle the fire.

His bravery was rewarded with a high-pitched feminine giggle.

Greg wiped his hand across his eyes and let the woman come into focus. Tall, bottle blonde, had the freshly fucked look. The previous evening came back to him, and he groaned. He must have fallen asleep before escorting her back to her apartment.

“Cherry, put that damn thing out,” he groused and reached for his boxers hanging from the bedframe.

"Sorry, but I couldn't get the window opened," she said, walking past him to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He unlatched the window and slid it open, giving her an exasperated look when she returned after flushing her cigarette.

“I told you no smoking in my place,” he reminded her and sat back on the bed, rubbing his temples. The smoke made his head hurt, or maybe it was her presence. He needed to cut the ties, and quick.

“I know,” she said, snuggling up to him and pressing his head to her chest. If she thought her tits were magical enough to make his mood change, she really had a shock coming to her. “What are you going to do? You want to spank me again?” she asked in a forced heavy voice. “I don't think that would work for you, Cherry.” He gently shoved her away and got back to his feet. Cherry wasn't a real submissive. She only played spanking games with him because she wanted him. But he didn't want fake, and that's all she had to offer. From her chemically induced hair colouring down to her acrylic toenails. Nothing about her was genuine, but she'd been fun to party with. Now, the party was over. “Sure, it would. It was fun,” she said with her soft giggle. He'd been attracted to it at first, the innocence, but after spending more time with her, he knew it was as manufactured as the rest of her. “Cherry,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Breaking up with someone had never been his strong suit—luckily most women who didn't fit what he wanted figured it out easily enough for themselves and dropped him hard before running for the hills. But he hadn't shown Cherry all of him yet, so she couldn't know what he was really wanting. What sort of depraved games he actually wanted to play.

“Greg, really. I liked it.” She forced a smile across her red lips. How long had she been awake? She already had on her face paint for the day. “That wasn't a real spanking, sweetheart. You wouldn't like a real one. Not like I give them.” He shook his head and went in search of his jeans. “Why? Do you think I'm too weak?” The little pout in her tone made his skin crawl. Innocence turned him on to a point, but what she displayed bordered on whining. And he didn't have a thing for that.

Give him a woman who could stand on her own two feet, had a good head on her shoulders, and eagerly sank to her knees when commanded. That was the woman for him. Cherry. Well, Cherry would probably cry if he gave her an order to drop to her knees, and she'd probably have a mini stroke if he snapped a leash onto her and took her for a walk.

“No.” He found his jeans and shoved his legs inside, zipping up his fly and running his fingers through his hair. “Cherry. We've had a great time, but we just don't have anything in common.” Other than their passion for fucking. That they saw eye to eye on.

Cherry swept her hair behind her ears and put her hands on her hips. He didn't say anything else, just waited for her response. After a long, awkward moment stretched between them, she dropped her hands to her sides and shrugged. with friends at the mall. If she'd had a lot of friends growing up, she was sure she'd still find that fact to be true. “Don't spend too much time on that one,” Antonio called over to her when the phone started ringing. “Just wrap a big ribbon around it and be done.”

She looked over the roses at him while he picked up the phone. Just throw it together? Fuck, no. If she was going to do a job, she was going to do it right. It would be the perfect arrangement.

Her father didn't raise a slacker.

The bell over the front door dinged, drawing her attention to the entry. Two men walked in carrying a floral box each. She'd seen them before. Antonio had introduced them as his cousins, but he looked too nervous to have been telling the truth. But she'd only been working with Antonio for a few months and didn't ask too many questions. She'd been lucky to score the job. Getting too close to him, badgering him with her questions would have made things more dangerous than she could handle yet.

She needed to bide her time. Work smart, not fast. She'd get the confirmation she needed, and then she'd act. But not before she was completely certain. Once she had no doubts, she'd do what she needed to do. She'd take care of it, and then maybe she'd get some peace. Just maybe. “Nora! I'm going to the back for a few minutes. Watch the door, okay?” Antonio called out to her. “Sure thing.” She smiled, wiped her hands on her apron, and headed toward the counter. The two men, Teo and Anthony turned away from her when she got close enough to say hello. Taking their rudeness as a sign to stay away, she didn't comment. They'd never been chatty when they came into the shop. She had a good idea what they were doing there, and she found herself feeling more and more comfortable with staying outside their line of vision.

Antonio gestured for his cousins to follow him, and they rounded the counter to head into the back.

Teo stopped and turned back to her, his fat finger pointed right at her. “Don't leave the counter. For any reason.” The threat in his tone was real, but it confused her more than scared her. Where else would she be?

“Okay. Got it. Stay at the counter.” She smiled wider, hoping the whole 'kill them with kindness' thing her father talked about actually worked—in the literal sense.

He disappeared into the back room, and she plopped down on Antonio's stool. The paper was opened to the movie listing, so she checked out what was playing. Not that she would go. Not that she had time or money to spend at the movies just messing around. But knowing what she was missing out on, sometimes worked well enough to keep her nose to the grindstone so one day she could have time and money to waste. Responsibility first, then playtime.

Knocking on the door interrupted her reading. She looked up and saw a guy standing outside the door waving at her. Looking at the door to the back room then back at the customer, she tapped her fingers on the counter. Teo didn't look like he had been fucking around when he told her to stay at the counter. If the door was locked, it was because they'd locked it when they came in.

She wasn't entirely naive. She knew the brothers weren't exactly Antonio's biological cousins, and she had a pretty good idea why they brought those boxes in every time they stopped by. But she had enough sense to keep her mouth shut. She didn't stick her nose in where it could get chopped off.

The knocking continued. Not wanting the brothers to hear the racket, she hopped off the stool and went to the door. “Can I help you?” she asked, only opening the door enough to peer through.

The guy wasn't a guy at all. She couldn't call him a guy, not when he looked so damn masculine. No, he was all man. From his neatly cut hair, to the square jaw covered in a five o'clock shadow, he looked like something stepping out of one of her fantasies.

“I need to put in an order.” His voice. Fuck, his voice, deep and rough. She could really lose herself in that voice.

“Uh—" Nora looked behind her. The door remained closed, and he was a customer. Her job was to make the shop money. “Sure.” She opened the door and gestured for him to come inside. After taking a quick look down the street to make sure no one else was headed their way, she shut and locked the door.

When she turned around she found herself eyes to chest with him. Craning her neck, she found his face. His eyebrows were wrinkled.

“Are you really not open?” he asked, pointing at the door.

“Oh. Yeah, we're open. Just not open open right now. It's fine. I can take your order.” She stepped around him, finding his curious stare unsettling.

Once safely tucked back behind the counter, she pulled out the order pad and grabbed a pen from the Mason jar. Silk flowers were wrapped around each pen, a D.I.Y craft she'd found on Pinterest.

“You're not open open?” he asked with light amusement. “What does that mean exactly?” His forearms leaned against the counter, and she got a good look at all the tattoos running up his arms. It was already hard for her to keep her heartbeat at a normal pace with his rugged features, his navy-blue T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest, but now he had to go and show her all the ink on his arms.

“Right. So, what can I order for you?” She poised the pen over the pad but was still scanning the pictures embedded in his skin. She stopped when she noticed the name peeking out from under the sleeve of his left arm.

Bella

She blew out a hard breath. Of course he had someone. Look at him, for shit's sake! And Bella was probably some six-foot blonde bombshell. Unlike Nora's five foot four, her dark shoulder-length hair that frizzled with the humidity of the city.

His hand appeared in front of her face. “You okay?” His fingers wiggled before her eyes.

Well, fuck.

She cleared her throat and gave herself a mental shake.

“So, flowers. What can I get you? A bouquet?” She fixated her eyes on his chin.

“No. Actually I need like a bundle of flowers or something.” He pulled out a scrap of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. Flattening it on the counter, he turned it to her, so she could read the script.

His girlfriend even had beautiful handwriting. Of course.

“You need carnations. Okay, easy enough.” She scribbled on her pad, noting her chicken scratch didn't compare to the script on the note. “It doesn't say a colour here. We currently have them in white, peach, pink, and yellow but we can spray the ends of the white petals if you'd like something different.”

When he didn't answer, she raised her eyes to meet his. But he wasn't looking at her; his focus was trained on the back office door.

Voices were raised back there, but she'd been so caught up in her own mind she hadn't noticed.

Putting her pen down, she took a step in the direction of the office. Antonio was yelling. Rambling in Italian, At least the air was cool in the cabin. She snuggled a little She glanced up at him, choosing to ignore the fact that he was standing there in his damn boxers. Just his underwear. He couldn't take a second and throw on a shirt to hide all those muscles, and the damn tattoos covering his chest? “You were sound asleep,” she countered, pulling her feet from the floor and tucking them under her butt when he stepped closer. “Okay.” He shrugged. “I'm not arguing about it; give me the phone, Nora.” He didn't reach for it, though she was pretty damn sure he could just snag it whenever he wanted. “Why don't you want me to use it? What am I going to do? Call the Santinelli brothers and let them know where to find me?” Seriously, given the fact he knew very little of the actual events, how could he jump to such silly conclusions.

He sighed, a heavy, deep sound expressing his exasperation with the subject. She got the idea he wasn't used to being questioned, at least not as much as she'd been doing since they'd met.

“I mean, c'mon, see this from my side.” Maybe a new approach would work better with him. “I don't really know you, and you're keeping me from calling someone that I do know, that I do trust, to let them know what's going on, what happened. How can I not be at least a little skeptical of you?” All true points, but none of them really caused her any sense of alarm. She was safe with Greg. At least for the moment.

He dropped his hand and sat on the coffee table, leaning toward her.

“And see this from my side. I don't know this person you want to call so badly. I don't know exactly what you were doing in the flower shop. What journalist, who isn't really a journalist, would take an undercover job working for someone who you admitted yourself didn't have any big stake in the Santinelli family business.” He put his hands on her knees, keeping her in place as he moved further into her space. “Until I know more, you aren't tipping anyone off to where you are. Once I get some answers tomorrow, I'll decide what happens next.”

His fingers gripped the phone, snagging it out of her hand while she was still processing his words.

“You'll decide? I didn't ask you to take me from the flower shop. In fact, I told you to leave me there. I've done nothing but ask you to let me go, but you'll decide what happens next, you'll decide if you can trust me?” She bounded up from the couch, smacking him in the chin with her flailing hands. “I don't give a shit if you trust me. I don't need you. I didn't ask for your help. I don't want it."

Running out of things to say, and keenly aware of the glare he set on her, she gritted her teeth and stalked toward the bedroom.

“Sleep on the fucking couch!” she yelled and slammed the door. With her heart racing, she jumped onto the bed and yanked the covers over her legs.

He was an arrogant asshole. Just like most of the other men in her life.

Chapter Nine

Greg had never been so thankful for twenty-four-hour stores before in his life. Nora had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning, after several more hours of tossing and turning and grumbling to herself.

He hadn't gone into the bedroom after she stormed out of the living room, casting him to the couch. An argument wouldn't get her to sleep, and it would only fuel his desire to strap her down and make her answer his questions honestly.

Once he was sure she was sound asleep, he scribbled a note about where he was going, locked up the cabin, and headed into town.

By the time he pulled back up to the cabin, the sun had “It's simple. If you tell the truth, we'll figure all this mess out. If you lie to me again—because you've been doing nothing but that since we met—you'll get your ass lit on fire and you'll spend some time thinking about what you did wrong.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at her.

Most women when faced with his disappointment quickly came to terms they had nothing but to do except submit. Either they quickly apologized, and everything moved forward, or they at least accepted a punishment was coming. But those women knew him. They were aware of his stern side. It's what drew them to him in the first place.

Nora wasn't those women. She'd probably never seen a spanking bench before yesterday, and now she was being threatened with having her ass tanned and being locked up in a crate. He probably looked like a madman to her, but she didn't have good coloring over her character at the moment either.

And if he was going to get in this and go balls deep into protecting someone again, he had to be damn sure he knew who they were. He had to fucking know he could trust every word uttered from those pretty, pink, pouting lips of hers. “I already told_ _” “That's one. Not a good sign, Nora. Now, tell me the real reason you were working at the flower shop. What do you know about Antonio?”

Her stare worked over him, searching maybe with too much hope that she'd find the little crack to burrow her way in. It wasn't going to happen.

After a long stretch of silence, Greg dropped his hands and walked over to the wall with the floggers. He plucked up the lightest of the bunch; holding the weight of the handle in his hand calmed him. This was something he could do. He knew well how to do this.

“One more chance, Nora,” he said, turning to her. He wouldn't have blamed her if she'd run from the room, but she hadn't. She'd stayed right where she was, though the redness was back in her cheeks. But he doubted it was because of any timidity that might be lurking in her soul. No, the girl was getting herself all wound up.

Because she was going to have to tell him the truth? Or because she was going to have to face the consequences of lying?

He didn't really care in that moment, he only wanted her obedience, her fucking honesty. “You can't hit me with that thing,” she stammered, pointing at the black flogger he held. The falls were pretty light compared to the rest of his collection, perfect for a first timer like Nora. “Of course I can. I can spank you with it, whip you with it, punish you with it, pleasure you with it. It's quite the multi-tasking tool.” He held up the handle, so the leather falls cascaded down over his arm. “I don't understand.” She shook her head again, wiping the heels of her hands across her eyes. Like maybe if she could clear the fog from her eyes the situation would be different. It wouldn't work, but he couldn't blame her for trying. “Here's the thing, Nora. I had hoped to get you safely away from those assholes, set you up with a detective that was completely clean and trustworthy, and get you paired up with a personal security detail until the whole thing was over.” He stepped toward her. “But, I got some information this morning that tells me it's probably better not to get the cops involved yet. And the personal security—well, turns out it's going to have to be me.”

Her top lip disappeared into her mouth, pinched between her teeth.

“So, last chance and then you'll be spending some time” “Sleep, Nora.” He patted her bare foot, the only part of her body he could reach and “I believe you did, but I also believe there's more to all of “Nora, come to the kitchen,” he called in that damn stern tone of his. She wanted to tell him to fuck off. But her Looking at her wrists, she sighed. He'd taken the cuffs His confession was dizzying. Antonio died because he wouldn't help Bernie sell her. And she'd been there plotting her revenge against him. “Your goons could have come to my apartment. Why would you need Antonio involved?”

Bernie's eyes darkened. "Because you wouldn't let your father's death go. You had to get a job at his shop. Did you really think Antonio wouldn't recognize you? He knew who you were, and he told me. Wanted to let me know he was watching out for you. But the idiot didn't understand I needed him to hand you over."

“Still you could have just come to my apartment, asked me to visit you,” she pointed out. He couldn't have been so stupid.

“I wanted my hands clean of it, don't you see that? If Victor found out, there needed to be no trace of me involved. Antonio only had to let Teo and Anthony take you from the back of the shop, that's all. No one else but me knew where you lived, Elenora. It had to be somewhere public but controlled.”

She hadn't had a chance to get away from Bernie. She'd clung to him as an uncle. She'd relied on him to watch out for her, and he'd been pursuing her in the worst way.

“I'm not going with whoever this monster is. I won't do it.”

She sounded braver than she was. Her insides shook, a cold shiver made her tremble.

“Not really your choice.” Bernie shrugged again. “Eat your sandwich when it comes. Your buyer will be here tomorrow afternoon for you. I have a doctor coming in the morning to check you over and sign the certificate of good health.”

Certificate of good health?

The click of the lock sliding back into place snapped her out of her frozen state.

Bernie had never been on her side, had never been protecting her. Bernie had been holding her in place to replace her mother as a slave.

And she had no way out.

She was going to be sold.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nora had fallen asleep sometime before the sunrise. She'd tried to stay awake, to remain alert and figure a way out of the condo. Except all she could think about was her mother. How much she'd missed her growing up, how much she had needed her and wanted her, and the entire time her mother was living in a hell of her own.

A hell she would come to know well if she didn't figure a way out.

Shortly, after the sun brightened up the room, the lock slid open again. She scrambled to her feet, moving to the far corner of the room. She would not go willingly, she would fight and claw and scratch.

A woman entered the room. Her hair was wound into a bun at the base of her neck and she smelled slightly like lilac. Although she had an older woman's air about her, she appeared to be in her early thirties.

“You must be Elenora.” She smiled brilliantly at her. Didn't this woman understand what was going on? And what was in the brown leather bag she carried with her?

“Y-yes.” Nora nodded. “Who are you?”

“I'm Dr. Smith.” Such a generic name; Nora doubted it was any more real than the stark red coloring of her hair.

“Doctor?” Bernie had told her she'd needed to have an exam, for a medical certificate of health. The creep buying her wanted to be sure she was in good health before he chained her up in his house and kept her locked away for the rest of her life.

“Yes. A very brief exam. I know you're scared. I was too when Bernie brought me here.

But he's been very good to me.” She put the bag on the bed and sat on the edge.

“Brought you here? You're being kept captive?” Nora took a step closer to the bed, drawn in to the woman's kind voice.

“I suppose you can call it that. I might be free to leave, I haven't asked in so long I don't know. Bernie doesn't keep me locked up. I have my own apartment. I come and go as I please. I simply work for him now, I think. But when he first brought me here I was terrified. I had no idea what would happen to me. I was lucky. Bernie is a good man.”

“A good man?” Nora wanted to scream, but she kept her tone level. “He's not a good man. He's not even a man, he's a monster.”

The doctor's expression shifted, a sadness touched her eyes. “He can be that, yes.”

Was this woman completely brainwashed or just crazy? How could she say Bernie was good?

“I'm not going to let him do this. I won't go.” Nora clenched her fists. She may seem like a sweet woman, but she was in the room to help Bernie, and that was a punchable offense, at the very least.

“Well, I'm not going to try to stop you. Like I said, I remember being here for the first time. I'm only here to do the exam. I should warn you though, if you don't cooperate with me, Bernie will come in and he'll do it himself.” “He's not a doctor.” Nora wrinkled her brow. “For most of the exam being a physician isn't necessary.” Dr. Smith's smile faded. “It will be so much easier for you to allow me to do it. I won't hurt you, and if there's anything that makes you too uncomfortable we'll find a new way to do it.” Her sugar-laced tone reminded Nora of a nurse coaxing a toddler into an exam.

"And Bernie won't come in?"

“No.” She shook her head. “I promise. He won't interfere unless you're uncooperative.”

Uncooperative. Nora had been just that with Greg. But she never had the shivering chill of fear at the thought of him touching her like she did with the idea of Bernie even being in the same room. If she was going to have any hope of getting out of the room—hell, the condo—she needed to play along. Make him drop his guard enough to allow her a chance to escape.

Besides, a little medical exam wasn't the end of the world.

“What do you need me to do?” Nora asked.

"Good." Dr. Smith smiled again and rubbed her hands on her knees. "I need you to remove your clothing." “Do you have a robe or something?” Nora looked at the bag on the bed beside the good doctor. “No. I'll need you nude for this.” “Nude?” “Yes, please. And we can't take too long. Bernie will expect me any moment.”

Nora sighed, but went about pulling off her clothes. The air conditioning in the room made goose pimples cover her arms and legs. Her nipples beaded up.

“Nice reaction to the chill in the room.” Dr. Smith smiled and pointed to Nora's breasts. “Stay standing, please,” she said as she opened her bag.

Dr. Smith pulled out a stethoscope and tucked it into her ears. She puckered up her full lips and blew on the stethoscope before placing it against Nora's chest.

“Yes, very good,” she muttered. She removed the earpieces and hung it around her neck.

Nora jumped when Dr. Smith cupped both of her breasts.

“Shhh. Just relax, this doesn't hurt.” Dr. Smith's soothing words had a bite to them. Nora knew if she didn't cooperate she'd call for Bernie, and Greg looked at his foot, bandaged and stuffed in a “It's okay,” Greg whispered in her ear from behind her.