Dunio

His knees pressed into the shiny material beneath him. Every movement was deliberate, every detail of his outfit a sign of his dedication. The LED display on his mask flickered briefly as he tilted his head slightly—attentive, waiting. The silence was broken only by the gentle clinking of the buckles on his straps. Then a sound—footsteps. A familiar scent. A soft laugh. His heart pounded. He knew what was coming. A finger under his chin lifted his head. "Good boy."