by Amanda Milo
Life is simpler when you’re a child.
Keeper walks my mates to the side of the hedge opposite the Ornamental, where there’s a twisting metal sculpture that erupts from the ground—a cleverly designed stake for chaining a full-sized male. It looks like art, and I suppose it is, but it has a function. Keeper affixes Avox’s chain, pets him, and gives him many treats. Avox looks surprised, but Keeper whistles praise for him behaving so well with Tranq.
Then it’s Tranq’s turn, and despite him never having an inclination to fight, Keeper praises and treats him for being so congenial about the situation too.
Tranq gets chained to another decorative stake that was planted in the ground near the middle of the hedge. There’s just enough space between each point that the males can’t kill each other, should they go mad and lunge for one another like animals.
Thankfully, my mates are civilized, and at least in this, the Ornamental seems to be too.
Keeper calls to me and our girls, and they trot on his heels. I follow too, but I also look back, watching the trio of males with apprehension.
“Fee-bee,” Keeper calls, and I turn to face him, walking quicker.
He smiles at me and beckons me to his side, where he drops his hand on top of my head and pets my hair.
He takes us to the garden shed, where he selects three human-sized shovels. The girls want to carry them, and laughing, Keeper lets them drag them haphazardly after us as he leads us back to the hedge. Our return trip would be quicker if Keeper just carried the shovels himself, but the girls are having fun helping, and Keeper is enjoying the simple pleasure of listening to three little girls express pure happiness and limitless exuberance as they play with the shovels all the way back.
We stop at Avox, and Keeper hands him a shovel. Next, he moves to Tranq—then he turns to the girls and tells them to stay, and he walks alone to the Ornamental and hands him a shovel too.
The Ornamental stares down at the shovel handle in his hands before slowly hefting it. That’s when, even slower, he raises his head—and stares Keeper right in the eyes.
For a blinding moment, I’m afraid he’s going to swing it at him. A cry of warning builds up in my throat… and dies, because Keeper’s gaze is keenly on the Ornamental’s face, and he purposefully backs out of range when he moves away, rather than turning and offering the Ornamental an easy opportunity to attack.
Keeper instructs the three males to begin digging up the hedge.
Tranq and Avox look surprised, and I’m surprised too. Keeper chooses his garden greenery with a great amount of care—right down to the safety of the flowers he plants, just in case the girls ingest any leaves before we can correct them. And he also places his decorative topiaries—like this hedge—precisely where he wants them to be. He’s absolutely mindful of design.
But he gave the order, so Tranq and Avox drop their shovels into the ground with grunts.
Tranq seems hesitant, but soon, he’s moving with surer movements, once he’s certain that this is really what Keeper wants them to do. He even starts to show enthusiasm. He likes being given a task.
Avox is glad for the workout. His muscles swell, like he’s ready for a fight right here in the garden, and it isn’t more than a few minutes before sweat begins to sheen on his body. He and Tranq are wearing loincloths just as the Ornamental male is, and I have to say, I’m starting to grow warm just from watching my mates work.
The Ornamental male, though, he does not raise his shovel. He stands, his hands fisted at his sides, glaring at everyone, and this earns him punishment.
It earns him a lot of punishment.
I edge the girls further away, so they don’t grow upset watching it. The Ornamental makes no sound when his collar receives a stimulation—but he grits his teeth, and Keeper’s face is uncharacteristically expressionless. A Whistler can make their face as emotionless as a mask.
I’m glad Keeper has never looked at any of us like this.
I can tell that despite his resolve to correct him, Keeper doesn’t like having to punish the Ornamental; it upsets him, and I know this because he brings his knuckles to his lower lip. I’ve only seen him do this when one of us has been in pain. I doubt the Ornamental knows Keeper’s tell, though, because it is slight.
Finally, the male takes up his shovel, glaring mutinously at all of us before beginning to dig too.
Dig… or stab. He hacks at the ground with a berserker fierceness—which is probably good. Clearly, he could use an outlet for his rage, and this way, he’s also doing something productive with his anger.
The sound of soil being cut and dumped goes on until the light wanes. Avox and Tranq mutter softly to each other, even laughing once or twice. When the hedge roots are nearly all severed, Tranq drifts a little, digging a more purposeful trench around the length of the hedge to loosen the soil. It will make it easier to lift it up for replanting, but in doing this, he’s nearing the Ornamental.
Without warning, the Ornamental stops digging and swings his shovel at Tranq’s skull.
CHAPTER 3
I think he would have missed because of the way Keeper spaced out their chains, but we’ll never know, because before his swing can finish its trajectory, the Ornamental drops from the ferocity of his collar’s correction.
Tranq blinks and shifts his weight, glancing towards Keeper for a cue, his shovel handle held solidly in his hands in the ‘dig’ position. At Keeper’s still uncharacteristically chilly expression of resolve, Tranq shrugs and goes back to digging, calmly raising his shovel handle before forcing it down to sink his blade into the dirt again.
Keeper appears beside him, finally smiling, quietly pleased. He turns his hand and in it, there’s a treat, which he offers to Tranq. It’s of Tranq’s favorites, and Tranq takes it with a low-level enthusiasm appropriate to the moment—because it would feel rude to jump up and down and cheer when a fellow human was just punished until he collapsed. And Tranq hates to be rude.
Our daughters break away from the circle we had been playing in—because they spied the food, and they want treats too. I scold them for rushing Keeper. They know better; they know to sit and wait for commands.
But Keeper indulges them. He gives me a sheepish smile as I roll my eyes, because he knows what he’s doing is only fostering bad habits that he’ll have to break later—and he will have to be firm one day, otherwise he’s going to have three grown women on his hands who leap up on him and guests, acting like they’re starved.
Keeper also doles out treats to Avox and me. And then he walks back to the Ornamental and offers one to him too.
Keeper’s smile is gone, but he holds out the offering.
The Ornamental glares at him, refusing to take it.
Careful not to take his eyes off of him, Keeper lowers himself to a crouch and sets it on the ground.
When Keeper steps back, the Ornamental male lunges for the treat with his shovel and hacks at it, clearly furious.
The girls gasp—and honestly, I’m not sure if it’s because of the unexpected ferocity… or the fact that he’s destroying a precious treat.
Once the food is good and savaged, the Ornamental stands, panting, and the girls turn their attention to Keeper, circling him like hungry little monsters.
I scold them, and Keeper lets my rule stand firm this time. He’s got his knuckles halfway raised to his lip, but he doesn’t intervene, and he doesn’t undermine me by feeding them more treats.
Instead, he avoids the temptation to soothe their bruised feelings with food and taps the hedge. “Lift this,” we understand him to whistle at the males.
Avox takes one end of the greenery, Tranq finds handholds in the branches along the middle, and the Ornamental scowls at them and at us and at Keeper, but without a correction this time, he takes hold of his end of the hedge too.
Working together, they pick it up, but of course they can only move it so far because of their chains. This is a nonissue because, once it’s free from the ground, Avox i
s strong enough to pivot his end, able to drag the whole thing by himself, and he follows Keeper’s commands as to where it should be set.
The sod is replaced (with the Ornamental stomping his sod down with murderous crashes of his feet), the girls dance on the dirt between Tranq and Avox, I groan as they get filthy, and Keeper’s mouth-feelers pop out—it happens sometimes when he tries to hide a smile.
I give him a knowing look, barely registering the shiver that travels down my back at the sight.
Keeper smiles full-out at my glance and comes over to ruffle my hair—and give the girls each a hug. “Bathtime later,” he announces, and the girls gasp in dismay.
Keeper chuckles outright, a raspy trilling series of sounds.
He returns each of the males to their pens, hoses them down to get the sweat and grit off, and when the girls and I are done taking baths in the house, we too are placed back in our pen.
And it’s beyond strange to look out and have no decorative privacy barrier any longer.
Thankfully, the Ornamental keeps himself turned away from us for the whole evening, not sparing any of us so much as a sneer.
This peace does not last long.
CHAPTER 4
In my pen, our sleeping box is large enough to fit me and a passel of little ones. Probably three times as many little ones as I have. It’s lavish and comfortable—and it also comes with a locking arm on the outside of the door so that when dark falls, I can leave my brood and lock them in to ensure no one wanders out and surprises her parents during any nocturnal activities.
It’s been days spent without any intimate relations with either of my mates. With the hedge removed, I haven’t felt comfortable enough. But tonight, I need them. I want them. It’s time to lock the babies in and bond with their fathers.
I can ignore the Ornamental.
The light reflecting off of the pair of moons can be bright at night, but thankfully both moons are currently in the waning phase. It bothers me that I feel a need for modesty just because the Ornamental can see us if he chooses to look. I shouldn’t care if he ridicules us and says more hateful things than he already has. I mentally tell myself this every time my nape prickles with the sensation of being watched as I give a blow job to Avox. When he finishes, and I swallow, I swear I hear a whistle. It isn’t one of Keeper’s whistles, but one made by a human.
I ignore it.
I go to Tranq, who’s been working his shaft, watching us and waiting patiently for his turn (something Avox does not do so well—patience—and more, being given his mate’s attention second), and Tranq is nearly ready to spill by the time my lips wrap around his impressive length.
I don’t know why I glance over. As soon as my head starts to turn, as soon as Tranq’s penis bumps the inside of my other cheek, I tell myself not to look.
But the moment I do, my eyes collide with the Ornamental’s.
He doesn’t look malicious right now. He’s meeting my gaze with something almost like hunger chasing over his expression as I try to time my breaths with Tranq’s polite but insistent thrusts.
I turn all of my attention back to my mate.
When I swallow Tranq down too, both he and Avox want me to come for them, something I didn’t start with tonight. Normally we begin with them licking me through the bars.
On any other night, I love this. I get attention from both of my men, and they tease and we flirt and I get to come at least twice, sometimes more.
But tonight, I don’t feel comfortable enough. I feel like we’re on display, and I don’t like it. So instead, avoiding Tranq’s plaintive call and Avox’s disapproving growl, I unlock my den and crawl back inside.
CHAPTER 5
It’s mid-afternoon, and naptime for Ava, Quinn, and Molly. I normally nap with them for a little while but I’m too keyed up to sleep. I’m taking turns pacing the length of Avox and Tranq’s cage sides, walking with them, exercising together.
Avox is in the middle of murmuring all the dirty things he’s going to do to me when he’s allowed to have me again when Keeper appears at my cage’s door.
He groomed me and the girls this morning, and we’re not due for any health check-ups. Those are the only other reasons he might appear at midday. He likes to keep a regular schedule, and to arrive at an earlier time to see us means he’ll have to work until later in the evening: not ideal.
Still, even on those late evenings when he returns to us exhausted, he faithfully takes at least me and the girls out to play. He’ll wearily sit on a garden bench and beckon me to sit beside him while he tosses toys for the girls to retrieve and giggle over.
When he doesn’t tell me to wake them, I grimace. That he’s home early and taking me out alone probably means he’s here to reintroduce me to the Ornamental male.
Catching my expression, Keeper gives me an amused look and chucks me under the chin. He leads me out, but doesn’t open up the cage walls for Tranq and Avox to mind the babies together—and this tells me that Keeper doesn’t plan to keep me away long enough for my children to wake up from their nap.
I relax.
Keeper does indeed walk me to the Ornamental’s pen, where he stands me beside the door and tells me to wait.
Keeper enters the cage and calls to the Ornamental.
Casting a confused glance at me, the Ornamental grudgingly slinks to him, teeth bared, eyes slitted—but he obeys.
Keeper attaches a leash to the Ornamental’s collar and leads him out.
“What the fuck are we doing?” the Ornamental grouses.
“I think we’re walking,” I answer grimly, but I do it with a reluctant smile. “It’s not so bad, you know. The garden is really pretty this time of year. New flowers blossom just about every day, making everything look a little different from yesterday. And wait til you see the fruit trees. You can’t catch a glimpse of them from your pen, but if Keeper takes us on the left fork of the path, it’ll go right by them, so I think he’s hoping to show you. The color of their bark grows in like a rainbow. It’s amazing.” I’m warming to the idea of a walk, growing a tiny bit optimistic about the short journey on account of the male beside me not being mean to me in days.
The Ornamental does not share my little ray of enthusiasm. “You think he’s hoping the sight of some trees will make me want to stick my dick in your loose cunt?”
I can’t help the shock that takes over my face. I stumble to a stop. To hide my reaction from him, I turn my head away.
Keeper, behind Ornamental, hand firmly gripping his leash, stops because Ornamental has stopped walking too.
From the corner of my eye, I see the Ornamental’s hand fly up to his neck, and I guess that Keeper gave him a correction. It doesn’t stop him from continuing his cruel invective. “By now, how much dick have you taken? And I’m not just talking number. That Avox guy’s cock is bigger than your arm. After lying under him, what can’t you take up there, you know?”
This is such a crude thing to say that I turn wide, disbelieving eyes to the Ornamental and slap him.
Right across the face.
Keeper makes a noise, and I flatten.
Prostrated on the cool and slightly damp rocks of the garden path, I’m intensely aware that Keeper might feel I deserve punishment, because physical fighting is not permitted. If I have to wear a correction collar after this, I’ll be so mad that I’ll want to strangle Ornamental, not slap him. I will feel utterly humiliated. And punished.
But when I brave an apologetic look up at Keeper, he orders me to get to my feet and come to him.
“Now hit her,” Ornamental taunts.
Against my will, I brace for exactly this, even though Keeper has never hit me. I’ve never had a keeper so much as swat me. Inwardly, I cringe even as I think it, but I’ve been spared because I’m a good girl. I don’t do things that would make keepers feel forced to take negative action towards me, and I hate the Ornamental for deliberately baiting me to this point.
But Keeper’s tone as he whistles
to me is infinitely gentle, crooning even, and instead of correcting me, he draws me in for a soothing hug. I bury my nose in his chest.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the Ornamental mutters.
I tense.
Keeper’s wrist flicks—and I turn and watch as the Ornamental jerks forward a step, hands flying to his throat where his collar received the stern tug rather than a shocking correction. He shoots a murderous glare at Keeper and then turns an uglier look—if possible—on me.
“Don’t turn that accusatory stare here!” I try to say levelly—but my voice is tight and shakes a little. “You don’t have to be horrible to me. I’m not an enemy. Here, you don’t have any enemies.”
The Ornamental’s mouth slashes up, but it isn’t a smile. “You’re this alien’s bootlicker and you don’t even feel embarrassed to be. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
For this comment, he receives another negative correction by collar. Keeper may not catch the nuances of what was said, but he can see that it upsets me.
The Ornamental, though, takes his punishment looking justified.
***
We pass the trees.
I sort of wish we hadn’t taken this path, because seeing them doesn’t instantly fill me with joy or wonder. Instead, the very fact that they’re standing so beautifully in the sunlight feels spoiled because the Ornamental could not look more contemptuous when he sees them.
Still, at least he’s behaving.
I no more than have the thought when the Ornamental suddenly explodes forward, arching his neck and jerking his leash hard—pulling it right out of Keeper’s hand.
Keeper hasn’t let himself become complacent during this walk though. What the Ornamental doesn’t seem to have realized yet is that Keeper watches everything—evidenced now by the fact that he’s neither startled nor surprised that the Ornamental has done this.
