Guro Challenge #19: Pet-Play
#24 of 33 Day Guro Challenge
Mokug sat beneath the table, as always, hugging his knees, waiting for his master to remember his presence so he would be fed. His stomach rumbled at the smell of hot fish soup, and the ferret rumbled a chuckle in turn. The hamster shivered as Sarengo's big footpaw ran up his back and the toeclaws scratched gently behind his ears. He hated it when the king did that; it was as if he wasn't even worth the trouble of the king bending down to pat him with his handpaws, and it wasn't unusual for it to be followed with a kick.
"Hungry, pet?"
Mokug crawled out from beneath the table and remained on all fours, looking up at Sarengo with the most pleading expression he could manage. No speaking allowed. No standing upright without permission. Even when obliged to crawl, he would be punished for dirtying the nice clothes the king put him in. If he was cute, he would not be hit as hard. He was too old and too thin to be as effortlessly cute now as he used to be, and right now the black eye made it even harder.
Sarengo picked up a chunk of warm bread and dipped it in the soup, and held it out just out of Mokug's reach. Mokug knew the routine; he sat up on his haunches, clasped his paws over his heart, and tilted his head. The king tossed the bread at him, laughing when it bounced off his nose and clapping when he caught it before it hit the floor. Mokug wiped the soup off his nose and stuffed the bread in his cheeks, making sure not to swallow it. If he did, there'd be no more to come. The bread went mushy and cool in his saliva, and swallowing it now would be disgusting, but better than nothing.
The king's meal was soon finished, a few more scraps being tossed Mokug's way and stuffed in his pouches. Sarengo poked Mokug's face with amusement. "Ah, so much in your mouth and I see not a trace. Vhere does it all go, mine little one? Oh, I forget dey vere empty to shtart dis evenink. Feeding day, is it not?" Mokug shivered. He dreaded feeding day.
In the middle of the table was a large metal cauldron, the lid still on. Sarengo raised the lid, exposing the inside piled high with food. Most of it was still-fresh scraps; bread crusts, carrot tops, apple cores. Whole vegetables and chunks of bread and fish were mixed in here and there. Nothing among the scraps was outright disgusting, and it was a far better variety than most slaves ever saw. It wasn't the food that Mokug hated. It was how he was expected to eat it. He felt bloated and queasy just looking.
Sarengo watched him expectantly; when he didn't immediately begin, the ferret took a pawful of food and offered it, smiling in the way which Mokug knew could rapidly turn to a snarl. He sighed inwardly, lowered his snout to his master's paw, and began stuffing the first of his next three days' food into his pouches.