Unsuitable Placement [Yaoi] Pet 'n' Master |2|

Hey Part two Enjoy x

Created by bloodsplatteredpearls on Saturday, November 24, 2007

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I hated it. Hated it, but there was nothing I could do. This is what we were brought up and bred to be. To serve and succumb to the powers of our masters, to stretch, bend and follow the orders of them, to pleasure and please them whenever they desired.
Unlike my friends, as we became of age to be trained, moulded into shape and taken away from our village, I did not accept my fate. The sick bastards at the centre liked it, strong will they said, rebellious behaviour, some masters liked that, liked to be able to punish mercilessly and break pets. They tied us up, whipped us, beat us into submission, to train us. My friends accepted it, they were brainwashed, their personalities washed away, souls bent to serve, now useless objects ready to be sold and ordered around. The whip and house master took me up to the head master a week earlier. Laughing at me; Jeering, calling me names, pulling my tail.
“Oh Tammy, What have you done this time? Hmm?”
“Ready for a good beating kitty?” They jeered as they pulled my restraints toward the room. The door opened and we went in. A slim man with long features sat behind the desk, his greying hair immaculately placed and his suit was creaseless. His stern gaze met us and almost of it’s own accord my head snapped down and my tail hit the floor. ,
“Ahh, Darrel come in.” he spoke softly. We ventured further into the room, an errand boy sat in the corner, his uniform showed great wealth and in one hand he held a measuring tape.
“May I?” he asked, eyeing me up and down.
“Yes, go ahead, hold him still.” He came closer, unwinding the tape, measuring me, everywhere, making judgements.
“Hmm yes, yes he seems fit. One week from now at the house?” He asked.
“Yes, yes any necessities? For his keep this week I mean?” The errand boy delved into his bag. He pulled out a sealed note and handed it to the head master.
“Any reason for the harshness, may I ask?” I gulped that did not sound good.
“The master’s son acted out sir, master has decided the consequences of his outburst sir.” The headmaster nodded.
“Thank you for your time, till next week?” Showing the errand boy the door:
“Till next week.” He left.
“You’re in for a hard time with the Penlodge’s, Tammy. I’m warning you to behave there, they won’t take nonsense.” He sighed looking almost sad. “Take him to the dungeons Darrel” At those words I bolted.
I spent a week down there, no food and cruel treatment, a life, I was told, to get used too. Being a slave has never bothered me, I grew up in a slave boy’s world, yet to be told, ordered and trained to be a pet was not something I had ever dreamed nor wanted and it killed me.
Serving was alright, cooking and cleaning I could do, but I couldn’t and never would do such things unless they were for my owner’s goodwill. Stripped of the little powers I could have gathered now and expected to pleasure and become a whore, a plaything, to be shown off by and for my master. I never settled about the issue, where most did, most pets loved it, cherished it believed it to be their Destiny. I could think, breathe and look after myself just as they could, why should I be the one kept as a caged animal?
The night before, they whipped me ruthlessly. I could no longer stand, so they dragged me and threw me in the cage in the back of the van. Hands chained behind me, I was too weak to move, so I lay crumpled at the back of the van. This was what they wanted; for me to look pathetic and feeble when I arrived at my ‘new home’.
The whip master stopped the van and pulled me out the back of the cage. Pulling me to my feet; attaching a chain to the rough collar that scraped at my neck.
We walk up the drive; I take my first glance at the house. House, well it’s more of a palace as far as I can tell. Ivy crawls up the granite grey walls; it goes deep red near the top, as the summer season green changes to rosy autumn reds. Grand staircases with two flights cross over twice at the front of the house, leading to two heavy oak doors. Thousands of window panes sparkle and glisten at me in the evening sunlight. In the sunset the walls look as if flames are dancing on them, a beautiful yet slightly terrifying scene to walk towards.
Two men stand a couple of stairs up from the foot of the stairs. At the bottom stand two guards.
The older of the two men is in his fifties; his thick brown hair is beginning to turn silver. Steely grey eyes blink out from behind silver spectacles. His set face meant business, not a man I wanted to cross. His smart black suit looked tailored, as did his shiny court shoes and in one hand he carried a maple wood cane. The whip master, Darrel, a hoax of a man with no whit and a violent temper, dragged me closer to my impending doom.
As we got closer to the men I got an enhanced look at the other man. Much younger; maybe a son to the other, he was slouching and bored he leaned against the balustrade. He had broad shoulders and was wearing a black wife beater under an opened up band hoodie, he wore dark skinny jeans and bare feet, and his long fringe fell into his stormy cobalt eyes.
Then I saw it. Its burnished black leather entwining, curled neatly together, shimmering forebodingly in the sunlight. The handle and end tip brushed each other at the clasp that attached it to his battered leather belt, near his belt buckle at the front of his jeans. My eyes widened and my fresh scars blazed as his eyes lay upon me. He moved his hand from his side to the whip as if trying to block it from my view.
All of a sudden Darrel was pushing me toward them; I stumbled and tripped onto the hard gravel floor. I felt so weak, I tried to stand, but couldn’t. I tried a few times but failed. Fear and dread washed over me as a singular cold voice washed over me and sank into my skin. It cracked the air with its shrill voice:
“Stay.” I fell back down and listened as the conversation, short as it was drove daggers into my scarred flesh. They all left and I thought I was alone; I looked up a bit and realized the guy about my age was now coming toward me. I closed my eyes.
He gently turned me onto my back, some of the gravel scratched along my unattended wounds making them bleed again. I hiss in pain as he picks me up as he does so he whispers, in a calm voice;
“Hush now” I do, I’m so tired. He begins to carry me inside and against my own will I lay my head against his chest and begin to fall into a slumber. I don’t hear the orders, or his sighs, or the opening of doors as people look out on us. I hear a door open and I feel a bed under me.


**__^^__**

After cleaning me up and tending to my wounds, he took me back to the bedroom, I could small food.
“Come on Tammy,” He whispered pulling me into his lap and offering me a bottle. A bottle? What am I five? I wanted to shout and scream at him. He forced it past my tired lips, squeezing some onto my tongue, “Please Tammy, try and drink some.” It was warm and succulent so I did, I felt like such a baby but at that point I didn’t care. He stroked my hair and back, “Good boy Tammy, Good Boy”
Afterwards he held me as he watched his television; I slept in his arms, surprisingly happy. I heard the door open and close, raised voices and then he moved me and left the room. After a while I feel asleep, later he came in, gathered me up and took me to a bed, laying me under the covers, he moved the hair from my face and buried his face in my neck. His hot breath hit my neck as he talked to me or to himself, I’m not sure;
“It’s okay Tammy. He won’t kill you; I won’t let him, I promise.” That shocked and scared me but he’d be mad if he knew I was awake so I stayed perfectly still. I fell back asleep listening to his mutterings.

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