Arriving at the Pet Academy

The Pet Academy is located in Tokyo, a small building buried in a residential neighborhood of Bunkyo-ku, the ward of the scholars.

It has a small, secluded garden, which comes in handy when the pet needs to be trained outdoor.

Also, the flat roof can be used to expose the naked body of a reluctant creature to the merciless action of the elements - rain or scorching sun, as the weather allows.

The Academy is a small-scale affair - I will not bother to explain how it started and how it has become known in the North-East part of Asia, and beyond.

It is a very tailored service, dedicated to perfecting the attitude and behaviors of cute, female pets; by which I mean women who have surrendered their freedom to become owned by another human being, a man more often than a woman.

I am aware of the existence of male pets, but please don't inquiry if I provide my training to them, as I am not in that line of business.

I do know though, a refined, big-bosomed Japanese lady who runs a center similar to mine, around the Azabu area.

Her house is dedicated to male pets, and having seen them perform any sort of tricks and accept any sort of humiliation not only in front of their mistresses and masters but also in front of strangers, such as me, I would gladly recommend her to anybody who needs such services.

In my case, everything starts with a handwritten letter from the needy pet.

There are no exceptions; the Pet Academy has no webpage or email, I use a social network account only to transfer my instructions, and "Yes" or "No" are the only acceptable replies.

If the owner writes, I ask him/her to order the pet to write herself, describing herself and her needs.; this is because owners sometimes see their pets differently from what they actually are, and expectations are unrealistic.

Besides, I am training the pet, not the owner; the skills I teach will stay with her even after the owner and she had parted ways.

As I said, this is a tailored service, so I don't have a standard program or a standard duration.

Let's say a weekend is a minimum duration, and the maximum usually is no more than a week or two.

It has happened that pets have returned, to work on different abilities.

I am particularly happy when this happens because I don't deny that I feel a special connection to all the women that passed through the Academy and seeing them coming back, observing how effective the training has been, makes me proud.

If the letter has convinced me, I set my conditions, and if there is an agreement, the pet is delivered to my door.

Often she is delivered by the owner.

She undresses in the path walk between the gate and the house's door and is led naked on her fours within the house.

Usually, I have a drink with the owner, while she curls at his/her feet, looking around, unsure of what will happen.

I enjoy listening to proud owners describing the skills and achievements of their pets, describing their lovely boobs, their sensitive nipples, inviting me to test their mouth, praising the intensity of their orgasm.

Smiling, I oblige to touch their asses, to tease their pussies, but I never go too far. After all, this is not a social affair, and I don't want my all-important, initial evaluation to be clouded by my senses.

Reluctantly the owner leaves, the pet rushes to lick his/her hand, buries her head in the crotch, it might happen that, for the last time, she takes his sex in her mouth, or slips below the skirt, to aim to her owner's lower lips.

At the very beginning, I was not comfortable in seeing their displays of private affection, but then I realized that there was much to learn in watching.

When the owner truly leaves, with a last pat on the naked pet's ass, finally my work starts.

Sometimes the pet arrives alone.

She walks in. I look at her from the window above the door.

Very few, as it should, undress quickly and wait patiently outside the door. In this case, after ten minutes or so, I go down to open the door, and I read the relief in their faces and their hardened nipples.

Some undress, but then they ring the door.

Clearly, they have not read the instructions properly.

I don't lose my patience. Training is my job.

I look at them as they ring more than once, or walk around the house, looking for another entrance, or dress again and leave, maybe thinking they mistook the date.

Those who leave will have to write again; the others, sooner or later, understand that they have to wait patiently in front of the door, on their fours, until I open.

One of my favorite pets, after waiting for a while, started to bark cutely, unconcerned by the neighbors.

Of course, I punished her, even harder than the others, because I respect the quietness of the community, but that readiness endeared her to me.