Chapter 9: The Basket

I curled up in the basket with the collar still on and a wool blanket over my hip.

The sheepskin was soft against my cheek.

Léon turned out the lamp.

His bed creaked as he lay down above me, and I heard him breathe in the dark, slow and even.

"Goodnight, little one," he said.

I wanted to answer, and I remembered that a pet doesn't talk.

So I stayed silent, with my knees drawn up and my hands under my chin.

His fingers dropped over the edge of the mattress and touched my hair once.

Then he was still.

I lay in the basket and listened to the house.

A clock ticked downstairs. A car passed on the street.

I was naked under the blanket, and the collar pressed warmly on my pulse, and my ass throbbed where he had spanked me.

I thought of nothing for a long while.

It was the quietest I had ever been.

Then I woke, and the clock said three.

The room was dark and warm, and my body was awake in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

My nipples were hard against the blanket. My pussy ached.

I had dreamed about his hands.

I lay still for ten minutes and told myself to wait for morning.

I couldn't.

I crawled out of the basket, quietly, onto the rug, and the lead trailed behind me from my collar.

I put my hand on the edge of the mattress.

"Sir," I whispered.

Nothing.

"Sir. Please."

The sheets moved.

"You're talking," Léon said in the dark, his voice thick with sleep.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"A pet doesn't."

"She does if she's desperate."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then the bedside lamp clicked on, and I squinted in the sudden light.

He lay propped on one elbow, with his hair rumpled and his chest bare.

He looked at me kneeling on the rug, naked, in his collar.

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