Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I’d never be caught dead doing this in the light of day, but in the dark and in the middle of the night, things make sense that don’t otherwise make sense, and suddenly seem like a very good idea. It’s warm under his blanket, which suggests to me he’s in this bed somewhere. Not that I want to find him, of course. I just want to know I am not alone.
Kahn
I wake up to feel something moving beside me. Fortunately for the human, I tame the immediate impulse to kick at a nocturnal intruder for long enough for my mind to work out what is happening.
She is definitely not sleeping in the bed with me. She is a stranger, a human, and an animal. She is badly behaved. She is… creeping up under the blankets, and I am not stopping her. I should. I should get up and put her back into her own bed. This is another pet keeping tip I have given hundreds of times over.
“Don’t ever let your pet sleep in the bed with you,” I said in a past life. “Pets need their own beds. Pets need to know their place.”
She’s a warm little bundle next to my hip and thigh, curled up backward against me. I do not know why she seeks my company in the night. It is possible she is afraid of the dark. She was cursing me as she drifted off to sleep.
If I get up and put her back in bed, we will both lose sleep.
I decide to leave her be.
I have the best night’s sleep I have had in a long time. Something about her presence, trusting and comforting and soft makes me relax and stops my mind from doing its usual swift revolutions thinking about what is to come.
My sleep would be counted as perfect if not for the fact that I wake up because I cannot breathe. Somewhere in the remnants of sleep, I am aware that my breath is coming ever shorter and with more difficulty. I open my eyes, thinking that there is a very real chance that some terrible illness has befallen me. But before my sleep-addled brain can catch up with my concerns, Stella shares hers.
“I’m hungry.”
I wake up to a pair of dark eyes looking down at me. The human is sitting on my chest, cross-legged, looking down at me with what I can only describe as annoyed judgement. I reach up, take her by the hips, and lift her off my chest. I can immediately breathe better, which is a considerable relief.
Humans eat little and often. That’s yet another fact I often have to remind new owners. On Euphoria, the day/night cycle is a great deal longer than it is on Earth. That messes with human circadian rhythms and sometimes leads to owners failing to feed their pets regularly enough. That will not be an issue with Stella, who demands food whenever she feels a slight pang.
“If you need to wake me, try to do it without sitting on me,” I say as I get up.
“Why? Am I too big for you?”
“You’re a not inconsiderable weight.”
“You calling me fat?”
I turn her over on the bed, pin her to the mattress, and spank her ass hard. It is the firmest discipline I have given so far, and I make full use of the drop seat of her attire to bare her ass for the punishment. I have trained enough female pets to know what that question means, both where it leads, and where it comes from. If I could spank that damn thought out of every human in existence, I would.
“You will never, ever, indulge in that particular human pastime time of denigrating your body, or assuming anybody else is.”
“You said I was a considerable weight!”
“Yes. Because you are an adult human being. That means you have mass. It does not mean you are fat, and I will absolutely not countenance that toxic line of thought, do you understand me?”
“Ow! Yes! Okay! I’m sorry!”
I take her apology, because it seems to be sincere and because my vigor has already turned her ass a very hot red hue. It does not take much to damage these creatures. I need to search through my implements or make use of the collar. I just couldn’t resist a proper physical interlude for that particular punishment.
“Sheesh,” she says, sitting up on her knees, her hands going back to rub her butt. “Where did you learn to get so mad about that question?”
“When almost every female pet I ever worked with asked it at one point or another and I learned how toxic it was,” I say.
“You really know people, huh. Women, I guess.”
“I know enough to train a brat like you.”
She smirks at me. If I am not mistaken, she is quite happy to have been corrected away from worrying about her weight and body composition. This is the best she has taken any punishment so far. I think she is starting to understand how things work and accept them. The training is working.