What was he talking about? She was turned on by the cage. Looking at him quizzically she said, “Okay. Sir."
He nodded, his voice stern. “You're under speech restriction—no speaking unless asked a direct question, or you need to safeword. Remember what I said about providing important information?"
"I do, Sir."
"Okay then, into the cage."
Dropping to her knees as gracefully as possible, she crawled in and finally noticed he'd put the oatmeal and cup of milk on the floor. The cage wasn't tall enough for an adult to sit comfortably, and she moved to lie down, but he stopped her. “No, hands and knees. Move closer to the bowl."
He clipped her wrist cuffs to the bars, and the added thrill of bondage inside the cage made her tremble with need, her hips reflexively wanting to hump the air, but she managed to keep still.
"I expect you to clean your bowl. The oatmeal should be cool, but be careful until you're certain. Drink all of your milk, too."
Dana was so horny she wasn't sure she was hungry anymore, but she leaned down to take a tentative bite, testing the temperature. A voice in her head insisted she should hate this and ought to feel humiliated, but she relished the activity. His pet, caged and fed.
The oatmeal was thick enough she could grab it into her mouth with her teeth, and drinking from the straw was easy. She fell into a rhythm of eating, her arousal levels rising as her blood boiled.
She ran into problems as she reached the bottom half, and found it impossible to eat without getting the sticky mixture on her face. With her speech restrictions she couldn't ask permission to leave the rest, so she dipped her head in the bowl, like a good pet. Before long, she had so much food on her face that more wouldn't make a difference, so she stopped trying to avoid it and just ate.
His shadow fell over her as she worked on the last of the oatmeal, using her tongue to get the few remaining bites. She could see his bare feet poking out from his pajamas, but didn't stop eating to turn her head until he squatted down, ass on his heels.
Their eyes met and he smiled, but—self-conscious about her dirty face—she couldn't bear his gaze.
"Done?"
"It's not clean, Sir,” she said, looking at what remained, “but I've eaten all I want. I just have a little more milk."
He peered into the bowl as he detached a cuff. “You've had enough, finish your milk while I release your wrists, and I'll clean you up. Speech restrictions are lifted, can you tell me how you're feeling now, pet?"
"I didn't mind eating in here; I liked it. I'm your pet, and it's only fitting I eat like one, but when it started sticking...” she hesitated, finally raising her eyes to his, and saw loving concern. She took a breath and finished. “I didn't like getting it on my face. I'm sorry, Sir."
He disconnected her other cuff and opened the cage door. “No need to apologize. Come with me to the bathroom so I can wash you. We'll work on finding a different bowl, a way for you to eat without wearing it. Thanks for being honest with me, pet."
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Chapter Twelve
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Dana was stretched out on a massage table, receiving one of the best massages of her life when the clock chimed twelve o'clock. He'd been working on her for hours, saying he wanted to learn her body, talking to her about each body part in detail as his fingers probed the muscles and nerves.
He'd heard the story of how she broke her pinkie in kindergarten, her arm at eight, the stitches in the bottom of her foot at eleven. They'd discussed every faded scar, every sore muscle; it was amazing how much of her life was recorded in her body if someone took the time to investigate.
Garnet had learned the same stories, but over the course of months and years together, not hours. She'd never had anyone focus on her like this, and it made her feel treasured and cared for in ways that surprised her.
He was sitting below her feet, deftly manipulating them into total relaxation when the clock began to chime, and as the last note sounded he pulled the sheet down to cover her feet.
"I'll fix us some snacks,” he said, standing and walking so he looked down at her face, “and run some fruit through the blender. I'll be on the patio, take whatever time you need before coming out. I brought your bag in from your car; you'll find it in the closet, along with a bathing suit and cover-up that should fit, if you'd like to join me for a swim. Do you need anything before I go?"
"No, but thank you. I'll be out in a minute."
Dana stayed put for several long minutes, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was brave enough to fall in love again.
Zach was swimming laps when she made her way outside. She stopped in the shade and admired his form as he neared the wall and surfaced.