The stove timer beeped as I lay there on his lap, and he patted my butt. "Okay, time's up. Sit up." I obediently sat up, and he looked me in the eyes, eyebrows furrowing. "...Yeah, do you need water or a blanket or anything? You can hang around for a little bit, I don't have any other immediate business."

I hesitated for a moment, but realized I was still feeling submissive towards him. What if he tried to befriend me, or offered me drugs or something? "...no, I'm good." I got up and started to stretch my arms over my head before realizing it might be perceived as an erotic move or something, and lowered my arms back down before completing the stretch.

"Okay. Well, watch yourself on your way back. You still look a little out of it." His attention returned to the TV...

I felt a little stung, that he wasn't paying attention to me as his cum oozed out of my pussy and soaked my panties... fuck, the front of my skirt had cum on it too, from when I had laid in his lap for him to spank.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, cool if I borrow a few paper towels?"

"Oh, sure." He looked up at me and a little smile played around his lips as he glanced down at his cum on my skirt. "No need to return them," he added magnanimously.

I smiled a bit and rolled my eyes, and walked over to the sink, got a couple of paper towels from the roll, wet them, and cleaned my skirt as best I could. After a minute or two... well, it wasn't great, if you looked there was clear evidence, and the smell wasn't gone -- or maybe that was just my panties and the cum leaking out of me -- but at least it wasn't obvious at the slightest glance that I had his cum all over the front of my skirt.

I headed towards the door, and started to turn the handle, then paused. It felt like I should say something, but I absolutely did not know proper etiquette for when someone buys your sexual services. "Um, thanks."

I didn't look back, but I felt his gaze on me at that. "My pleasure, Phoebe. Feel free to call if you want to do any more... business." His pause and the amusement in his voice made it sound like innuendo, although I wasn't sure if he was offering to buy my body again or sell me drugs. "I'm not always available, of course, but we can set something up. You're just as charming at this sort of work as I thought you'd be."

...yeah, that was an offer to buy my body again. Well, I'm sure he'd sell me drugs too, if I asked... I wonder if he'd warn me if I was about to do something stupid and dangerous with them, too. Probably?

"Um, yeah, for sure. I'll let you know... you know, if I want to, you know...." This had not gotten less awkward for me, even though he sounded perfectly comfortable "...well."

I wonder how many other girls whose favors he had paid for in this room of his as I opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind me, and letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my shoulders relaxing.

I was free!

I had survived, it hadn't been that bad, and I had three hundred and sixty dollars to show for it.

He had pushed me a little, I guess, but it wasn't like he had raped me or anything... he had waited for my consent before he did anything at all. And I basically said I wanted my boundaries tested... why were my eyes tearing up now?

I blinked them away, and tried to focus on the world around me, the passing cars, the pigeons... more pigeons than usual, congregated, which seemed weird until I realized someone had apparently dropped a sandwich on the ground and hadn't bothered to clean it up. I gave them a wide berth, not wanting to disturb their meal, but they hardly seemed to notice me.

Even if they did, it's not like they'd judge me... they wouldn't think I was less of a person just because I whored myself out once. Or think I was less than human because I was going to become someone's property... they probably didn't even understand either of those things. I was just some big probably-not-dangerous creature, and the sandwich on the ground was just food. The money, folded up neatly and placed in my pocket, was just money.

Okay, no-- let's be honest, pigeons probably had no concept of money.

I was trembling slightly as I got back home, and then looked over to next door, unsure if I wanted to interact or not... I decided to clean up first, and went into my apartment, stripped, cleaned up, biting my lip as I washed away his cum, then put on fresh clothing and looked at myself in the mirror.

...I did look a bit out of it, really. My eyes were still a little teary and took a moment to fully focus, and my face was a bit pale.

I pondered just taking a nap on my mattress... but Mika would probably worry if I was gone long, and I didn't want her starting drama with Damien. He was a drug dealer, so that would already be bad, and... he wasn't that bad, really. He could've been worse. He could've been a lot, lot worse.

I wondered if there had been a gun in his room the entire time, and shivered, trying not to think about it, like admitting that he probably had a gun increased the chances I'd see it fired. Fuck, now I was imagining him shooting Mika after she got aggressive and-- Okay, calm down, me. I was just anxious.

I took a deep breath in and out and splashed cold water on my face. I could do this. I dabbed my face dry, and went back over to their place... I guess it'd be my place, too, for a couple of months, and tried to open the door, only to realize it was locked. Right. I didn't have a key.

I knocked on the door, and Mika peered out suspiciously, then seeing me, her eyes widened, and she quickly opened the door. "Phoebe! Are you okay?"

She got out of the way as I came in and closed the door behind me, and smiled a little, shaking my head dismissively. "I'm fine." My eyes were tearing up more and my body was trembling now that I was back with her, feeling paradoxically safer and more afraid, looking in her eyes for some sort of scorn or judgement-- but mostly she just looked worried. She twirled a rather sharp-looking kitchen knife with her left hand, and my eyes widened as I looked over to it.

"...um. Mika?"

She glanced down at the knife, almost dropped it, and smiled, looking away. "Oh, sorry. Nervous habit."

"...of... twirling a kitchen knife?"

Mika walked back over to the kitchenette, and put the knife away. "Yeah. Just makes me more comfortable when I remind myself that I can still kill people."

"...I thought they trained--" pets, I didn't say, "--they trained people out of that? Being able to hurt people?"

"Oh." Mika smiled proudly. "Yeah. They certainly try." She looked back to me and tilted her head a bit to one side. "You might need to fake it, if you can't be hypnotized."

I started crying harder.

"...sorry." Mika walked closer and wrapped me in a hug. "Are you okay? Is it looking impossible for you to be a pet now?" She tried to keep the hope out of her voice.

"...No. No, that's the scary part, like, I feel disgusted with myself and unclean and inhuman just for selling my body once, which is stupid, sex workers are people, you know? But... that's not what all my societal training says, so it all feels wrong, but despite everything..."

Mika stroked my back softly. "Yeah?

"I... I think I could do it... I think I could get used to living as some guy's pet."

"...oh." She tried not to sound disappointed, even though a bit of disappointment slipped in. "Then what's wrong, Phoebe?"

I inhaled, and exhaled, shakily, and tried to smile at Mika.

She stroked my cheek and looked into my eyes with concern.

"That's what's terrifying. I think I'd learn to live with it, no matter how horrible it was."