Himari and Ichia Mae Me Their Pet

Author's note: Contains scenes of non-consensual slavery.

The Pet-sitter

The day after the pet-show my willowy mistress Ichika had me leashed in the sitting room; I sat in 'lay down' position, my legs wide, caged cock on show and paws on the floor to keep me in place. It was obvious that my owners were going somewhere, as I had watched them pack a suitcase with a few day's worth of clothes - all that remained for me to discover was whether they were going to take me.

I sucked on Ichika's toes at her command, and she squealed in delight every time I popped a new one into my mouth. In the background, Himari brought the suitcase over to the front door, and dialled up something with her phone - her stream of rapid Japanese was far beyond my understanding.

I wondered if they were taking me with them somewhere - a hotel that allowed slaves? Was that maybe a thing in Japan, I thought? I had been displayed to various people, and had no illusions that they all saw me as more pet than human - were my owners about to take me on a little trip to meet more women like them?

My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp rap at the front door. Ichika bounced up from the sofa and joined Himari to open the door. They ushered in a young Japanese woman of 18 or 19, who had with her a small suitcase of her own which she wheeled in behind her. She was short and willowy, and wore a white blouse with a short plaid skirt, with her black hair in two bunches, one on either side of her head.

When she saw me she clapped her hands in glee and rushed over to me, then she ruffled my hair and leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. She snatched up my leash and pulled me over to Ichika and Himari, who smiled and laughed at the sight of her taking charge. I went along for the ride, not knowing what else to do, and that was when Ichika got out her phone and showed me a written note on it.

'Puppy:

This is your pet-sitter!

Obey her as you would obey us.

Do not attempt to speak in human language or otherwise communicate as a human might. If you do, she will tell us and we will add two weeks to your sentence.

She knows the circumstances of your capture and will treat you like a dog and a slave.

Be a good boy for her while we are gone - or else!

Bark four times now to show you understand.'

There was no real choice for me, so I gave four of my best clear barks, and all three women laughed together as they gazed down at me. I saw the passion in their eyes, the fire, the way they knew they held absolute power and I held none. Ichika handed some keys to the girl, and then with kisses and waves, my owners left and I was alone with the pet-sitter.

She led me over to the couch, then she flopped down on it and had me kneel on the ground in display position. So here was another woman whose eyes would take in the sight of my bare, caged cock and my harnessed body and think 'property' or 'puppy' or both. Her eyes swept over me and she licked her lips. My cock twitched in its cage and she squealed with laughter, then she lunged and grabbed my chastity cage with one hand and my balls with another. Holding eye contact with me, she squeezed until I yelped, then she let me go. She snickered and I blushed.

I held display position for a long time while she looked over every inch of me with a sly smile on her face. If my obedience impressed her, it was hard to tell, but it was clear she was enjoying the situation an awful lot. After a long period of scrutinising me, she got me to sit on all-fours in front of the sofa, facing off to one side, then she put her feet up on my back and turned on the TV.

If I had to guess, I'd say I passed an hour as her footstool, not even able to look at the TV lest she use the leash to jerk my head back to the side. She wore no shoes in the house, of course, and her feet had white socks with a lace trim, which rested on my back without digging in. The girl was light, slim, pretty, and utterly at home with me there naked and leashed, chained on all-fours like an animal. She had to have done this before, so my owners were right: I was still a slave regardless of whether they were present or not.

A slave. I rolled the word around in my mind, then I rolled 'pet' around instead and liked it a little better. Both were property, but one felt more like a being who was liked and loved than the other did. I could not use my hands inside the high-quality mitts that encased them, and could not stand thanks to the harness that chained my wrists and ankles. I had no power, no documents, no access to my money. I was, in fact, a slave. My cock tried to swell and I started to drool a little as the pretty pet-sitter ignored me.

At some point the TV clicked off. My pet-sitter snapped up my leash and almost dragged me into the bedroom, then I watched as she shimmied out of her white thong knickers. She flopped down onto the bed, on her belly, and hitched up her skirt then pulled on the leash to draw me closer. I thought I knew where this was going, and when she spread her legs I knew I was right. Just to make things clear, she pointed at her arse and said "Lick!".

A game flared into life on her phone, and I heard loud sirens and pops and guessed she was playing some sort of candy matching thing, all bright images and addiction to the right kind of person. I nestled in to the crack of her butt and started to lap gently at her, and she sighed with pleasure, wriggled to get me in the right spot, then said "Good boy" to me and left it at that.

That was all the talk I got from her. She played that damn game for a long, long time, and my jaw ached as I licked her arse and helped her relax. It was probably a good thing for me that she could not see my scowl; even though she was hot as hell, I didn't much like the idea that she had reduced me to the status of some arse-licking piece of furniture that she could treat like an automaton.

While I lay there worshipping her arse, I started to wonder about what I was becoming. It had become normal to me to crawl, beg, bark, to live on all-fours, to be the pet that my owners intended me to be. I still felt weird about always having my cock out, but I knew I liked the way my owners looked at it, like it was theirs. So there I was, pleasuring some girl while my dick nestled in a cage I could not open with my mitted hands, and I wasn't even trying to resist. I feared the punishment that might follow, sure, but mostly it just didn't occur to me: they had the power, I did not. I was just along for the ride.

My jaw really, really hurt when the girl finally clicked her fingers and pointed down towards the big cage that I slept in. I crawled in there with a feeling of great relief, and when she locked the padlock and shut me inside, I had to keep myself from grinning. She sat down on the edge of the bed, then gazed down at me with fiery intensity; I watched her unbuckle her skirt, then slip it off.

Her fingers fell to her clit and she spread her legs. Her beautiful pussy was mostly shaven except a landing strip of jet-black hair, and I salivated at the thought of tasting her. As she watched me watching her, she began to masturbate, and I whined as I wondered why she had not let me get her off, why I had had to make do with being her arse licker instead. Her hand began to move faster, and she grinned at me like a wolf, as I knelt in the cage and let her look at my caged cock, my collared neck, the dog tag that dangled from my collar, and the chains that kept me harnessed on all-fours.

I whined and she giggled, then she motioned with her hand. I whined again and she smiled salaciously, and I saw how her fingers on her clit sped up a little. More whines pleased her greatly, and then I went all-in and started to make my begging motions to her through the cage bars. Her mouth fell open and she moaned sweetly, and I got a rush, prickly energy that cascaded across my skin, just from having turned her on.

So I begged. It felt like there were no real consequences from just being a good dog for these mildly insane dommes who had done this to me. Sure, I was debasing myself. But would I ever see them again? Sure, I was far from being some kind of 'real man' who would never have submitted, but those guys could never know the pleasure of a good pegging or the eroticism of a hard spanking, so that was more or less fine.

It rankled that I couldn't cum, but I got that submissive thrill whenever I looked at my cock and saw the cage there, or when I noticed my mitts again. It was as if I thought I should be resisting more, but the facts of the matter could not be denied. I was cock-locked, I was humbled, I was a pet, and I was owned. I begged and whined at the pet-sitter, and she looked me in the eyes, and knew all those things too.

She yelled out in triumph as he fingers won the battle and an orgasm flowed through her. It was short and sweet, and she held my gaze through the whole thing as her fingers flicked and massaged and she let out little meeps of pleasure. I'd rarely seen anything so cute, but boy did I want to be out of that cage and licking her to get her there.

No such luck. She rose off the bed, grabbed her phone, typed something in and then showed it to me. A translation came up on the app: Rest, 3 hours. Bark if needed. Only if needed. I yipped my assent and she smiled down at me, then she went over to Icihika's bedside table and slotted a CD of Japanese garden music into the player. With that, she left the room, and I heard her put on a film on the big TV in the lounge.

And then I was just a prisoner again. That cage was stout, obviously built to withstand kicks and pressure, and the lock looked unbreakable to me. Even if I got out, I could not stand, and all the little house's doors were designed to lock at the top, far higher than I could reach. Even the windows had reinforced and frosted glass low down: I was in a home designed to keep prisoners imprisoned, and clearly none before me had ever escaped.

It was a relief to know all that, in a way. I curled up on the big dog bed and let my eyes gently close. The soft music washed over me, and I focused on my breathing: slow in through the nose, slow out through my mouth, slow in, slow out, slow in, slow out. I felt those breaths waft across my body and remembered I was naked and harnessed, but then I returned to the breath: slow in, slow out. Bit by bit, I relaxed, and let the time pass.

I awoke with a start as the cage rattled. The young, slim pet-sitter towered over me, her nimble fingers working the padlock to set me free. She snapped her fingers and I crawled out, then she had me kneel up for a leash, which sent a shiver of lust through me. There was nothing quite like being leashed by a pretty woman.

The pet-sitter - I never learned her name - led me out into the living area, then over to the little kitchenette. She spent a little time preparing my food - fruit, nuts, energy bars, that kind of thing - and placing it all in a large stainless steel dogbowl. She lifted it as if to put it on the floor, then she laughed and let it clatter back onto the worktop.

"Beg!" she said. "Beg!"

I had been denied food before for not obeying and knew that these kinds of women would think nothing of making me go without. I blushed and cringed, but I knew I had to beg for my dinner, and my stomach rumbled to remind me that I needed food. Swallowing the tattered remnants of my pride, I raised my mitts up, sat on my haunches and opened my eyes wide.

I whimpered to her and she burst out laughing. My blush intensified and I could feel the crimson burning my cheeks, but I whined and whimpered and moved my mitts around as the pet-sitter scorned and mocked me, and I hoped that this did not herald a sudden shift in her treatment of me.

There on the floor I begged and begged and begged. The pet-sitter giggled and laughed, and I yearned to reach up and over just a little and put my head beneath her skirt to worship her dominant pussy. But instead I tried to convince her to feed me. I let her see how beaten I was and I humbled myself before her like a well-broken animal, until finally she patted me on the head and nodded.

The food bowl clattered onto the hardwood floor and I dove in. My pet-sitter played a game with me where she pushed the bowl around with her foot and I had to follow to keep eating. Round and round the kitchenette we went like that, while I whimpered and chewed, and she played the game with me until I had finished every scrap in the bowl.

We returned to the bedroom; once again I salivated as she slipped her white thong off, and once again she flopped down on her belly and pointed to her cute little bottom. I crawled up onto the mattress and over to her, then I lay down with my face nestled between her cheeks. She said "Lick" and I just did it, automatically, not even thinking, a long slow lick across her arsehole, then one around it.

She sighed and relaxed down into the mattress, then she fired up that game again. So this was her 'thing' then - mindless games and a good rimming from a slave. I licked her eagerly to start with, then a warning spasm from my jaw reminded me to pace myself, and I slowed down, which curiously slowed her breathing down to. She responded to me, and I to her.

Her game went on and on. More than once I had to stop and whine to be allowed to rest my jaw. She gave me five minutes at a time, occasionally a drink or some vaseline for my lips, then she made me worship her again. And again. The afternoon became the evening, and still she played that damn game while I worshipped at her arse and she sighed and wriggled every time she wanted me to nestle in further.

She fed me late in the day, after a lot more begging, then she led me back into the bedroom. She had me get up on the bed and stick my bottom up in the air, then she said "stay" and made me wait in that lewd pose while she went into her little suitcase and came out brandishing a long, thick black strapon.

Off went her clothes, and out came her beautiful little tits. She disappeared behind me and the bed bounced as she climbed into position. Would she be gentle with it, I wondered, or would she take me good and hard? Would she last a long time or would this be over quickly? The girl had patience and was clearly able to enjoy one thing for a long time - would that be now?

She slipped inside me and I yipped my lusty pleasure at that, though my cock stayed locked in its cage. Then she squeezed my hips tight for grip and started to slowly withdraw. Bam! She rammed her cock inside me and I yelped, then she started to ever-so-slowly withdraw again. Bam! She rammed inside me again. Slowly, slowly out, then bam! I yelped as she made each deep thrust connect, and that cute little evil giggle of hers was her approving answer.

My pet-sitter took me hard and slow and I yearned to climax, but she was never going to unlock my dick to allow that. She had a vibrator in her strapon harness, and I heard her climax after a long, long time of arse-pounding thrusts and slow buildups, but she kept right on going after the orgasm and I just had to kneel there and take it while she showed me who was boss.

I thought I might go mad with lust. She worked me into a sweaty, shivering mess of energy, and still those long hard thrusts of her strapon kept coming and coming. I began to whine and whimper to 'ask' her to stop, but it drove her deeper into the scene and she giggled as I stopped. I just let her fuck me after that, and when it was all done, I felt like I had really become her slave as well as Ichika's and Himari's.

The slim girl washed me and let me use the bathroom, then she locked me in the cage. She flopped into the big bed and turned off the light; moments later, she began to snore, and so I curled up, managed to get my blanket over me, and closed my eyes. My arse and my jaw both ached, but I knew that as a pet-slave that was mine to endure, so I put the pain to one side and breathed through it. Slow in, slow out: like that I finally went to sleep.

She pet-sat me for two more days and we did the exact same thing on both of them. I got to know every little way she liked to have her arse licked, and she got to know every little way that I could beg for my dinner, beg to be allowed to rest my jaw, and beg to take her thick black strapon deep inside me for another long session.

When curvy Himari and lean Ichika walked back in the front door, I breathed out a sigh of relief. I scampered up to them and yipped and yapped my greeting, and they chatted with the excitable pet-sitter while she pointed at them and told them all about me. I hoped she was praising me: my owners looked happy enough. They handed the pet-sitter an envelope - cash, I think - and she blew me a kiss and left, and that was the last I ever saw of her, though I remember her sometimes when my jaw hurts.

A shocking addition

I knelt on the living room floor sometime in the later afternoon. My willowy Mistress Ichika sat on the sofa; Himari was out doing something else. Ichika had me in a display posture but I struggled to hold it; I kept glancing over at the door and wondering about it. What would happen if I went over to it and started shouting like a human, for help, even if it was in English? Would anyone passing by the house hear me? Was it possible for me to be rescued?

Ichika clicked her fingers at me in frustration and I realised I'd been fantasising about escape when she must have given me an order to do something. I caught her eye and saw that she was pissed off with me, and without thinking I spoke.

"Sorry," I said.

"Bad puppy! Bad dog!" yelled Ichika in English.

She leaped up off the sofa and then slapped me hard across the face, and I fell down onto all-fours and crawled towards the front door. I started to yell "Help! Help! She's kidnapped me!" and Ichika stood over me and thrashed at my bottom with a long riding crop. I think the pain only drove me to shout louder. She tried to shove me away from the door, then she kicked me in the side and I rolled with the blow.

"Bad puppy!" she yelled.

I got back up and tried to ram the door with my body, on all-fours, and Ichika ran out of the sitting room and into the main bedroom. I kept up my assault. My heart beat in a rapid staccato rhythm and anger swelled inside me. I could feel a hot ball of rage in my stomach, and it felt in that moment like I just wasn't going to take it anymore. I had a puppy-play fetish, sure, but I was no one's property because of it.

I wasn't thinking at all: it never entered my mind that they had all that blackmail material on me. It never occurred to me that they could probably get away with it and pass off what had happened as consensual. I didn't even think about how well soundproofed their custom-designed home must be, or notice that the strong door never moved a millimetre as I rammed it.

Ichika ran back to me. As I turned I saw something metal catch the light in her slender hand, then I tried to dodge. Too slow. All the fight fled from me in one instant. Ichika had thrust a cattle prod into my flank and turned it on. I slumped down, unable to control any of my muscles, and I could barely even focus on her as she stood above me.

She gave me a tentative kick and I couldn't even respond with a whimper. My body's off switch had been thrown, and Ichika had total control. She let the tips of the cattle prod rest on my torso as she knelt down beside me, then with her free hand she stroked my skin. I heard her whispering soothing words to me, and it hit me then how stupid I had been.

They had clearly enslaved many men before me. They had never been caught, never gone to prison, never had a bad outcome for themselves. They knew what they were doing, always, and I was going to pay a price for my loss of control. My harness and mitts were inescapable without a long time unsupervised with a convenient sharp edge, and even if I got away they'd still have all the photos of my crime, and my passport. I would have to find a consulate somehow and try to invent some story to get home - it was all so unlikely to happen, and that meant...