You Pick...Puppy

The silence that followed was deafening. My pulse hammered so loud I was certain she could hear it. There was no correct answer—both options were humiliating, both played directly into her hands, both meant surrendering completely to Sanah's whims. But the worst part? The way she was looking at me—like she already knew which one I'd pick, like she'd mapped out every pathetic reaction I'd have before I'd even had it.

Her knee pressed higher between my thighs, and my breath caught. "Tick tock," she sang, her fingers tightening around my wrists. "Boyfriend or puppy? Choose fast or I'll—"

"Puppy," I spat, the word bitter on my tongue.

Sanah's grin was instantaneous—blinding, triumphant, absolutely feral. "Good boy," she cooed, leaning down until her lips brushed the shell of my ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with promise. "Now bark for me."

My entire body locked up, heat flooding my face so fast I thought my skin might peel off. "No," I choked out, but she just squeezed her thighs tighter, her knee pressing up in a way that made my stomach flip.

"Bark," she repeated, this time punctuating it with a sharp nip to my earlobe. The sting sent a jolt down my spine, and before I could stop myself, a pathetic, strangled noise escaped my throat—something embarrassingly close to what she'd demanded.

Sanah's delighted squeal was immediate, her hands clapping together like she'd just won the lottery. "Oh my god, you actually did it!" she shrieked, bouncing on top of me hard enough to make my ribs ache. "This is the best weekend ever. I'm framing this memory." She took a photo of me pinned beneath her dejected and tagged it "Look At My New Puppy!" Her Instagram notification buzzed insistently like bees, I may have preferred actual stings to the ones I'd receive in the comments.

"You're the worst," I groaned, but she just grinned wider, pulling something metallic from her hoodie pocket—a thin silver chain that glinted under the living room lights. "Oh no," I muttered as she dangled it above me, the cool metal brushing my nose.

"Relax, it's just a temporary collar," she teased, looping it around my neck with practiced ease. The clasp clicked shut with finality, her fingers lingering against my throat as she adjusted the fit. "See? Fits perfect. Like you were made to wear it." Her thumb traced the chain, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

The worst part was how her eyes darkened as she admired her handiwork—like she'd been waiting years to see me like this. "Now," she purred, leaning down until our noses almost touched, "let's see how long it takes before you stop pretending you hate this." Her teeth flashed in a smile as she tugged lightly on the chain, and I hated how my pulse leapt in response.