This story is coming out of the genre of legal slavery, made popular by Katie Smith, Joe Doe, GentlemanMariner, Carl Bradford, and many others. To cut to my spin on it: I am trans woman and this series will wrestle with the logistics of trans people in this niche genre. This isn't any kind of informational (lol) this is above anything a sexy story meant to get you going and tapping your metaphorical toe whomever you may be. I will not be using slurs for transgender people throughout, so sigh with relief or make peace with this before going on.
It's set in Canada, which doesn't matter much but it might matter a little, later. This first chapter is a somewhat short, call it a happy introduction. Later entries will be longer. I'm always happy for feedback, and thanks for reading!
Part 1 - The Buying of a Leash / Snapping the Collar
Penina was her name, she had a red leather dog collar with a little silver tag that read "pebble". That little tag and a thin black leash were bought for her by Jack on their fourth date. It had only taken two dinners and a lunch for Jack to know how far he could push her, and how far she would willingly bend for him.
He walked her into the pet store like he was showing off the pride of his pack of bloodhounds. His strong tanned hand lay firmly across the back of her neck, holding her head and its blushing cheeks up high. "You find me a collar that you like, baby," he said.
Penina said, louder than she needed, "Y-You mean that-- that
she
would like, ha, ha!"
He looked down into her eyes and his smile never faded. "Your favorite color is red, right?"
"Uhm," she said. "Y-Yeah it's good... uh, it will help us see her if, uh... Like, in the dark!"
A pet store attendant, a fully dressed woman with short dark hair, thick black-framed glasses, and a professionally put-together courtesy, came to give them the company sales pitch. "Good Doggie-Meow Morning to you, is there anything I can help you find today?"
The clear nametag pinned awkwardly to her thin green apron read "MANAGER - Mary." Behind her was a life-sized cardboard cut-out advertising a new brand of dog treat, something like a meat yogurt in a disposable Go-gurt tube, that Mary had probably set up herself whenever the company sent its ad package for the month. The woman on the cut-out was totally nude, and her clear nametag attached neatly to a piercing in her left nipple. On her pubic mound was a Doggie-Meow paw print tattoo in the usual friendly yellow and blue. Although slavery hadn't been decided in their province yet, corporate seemed to know which way the wind was blowing. And soon it would be blowing Mary's apron off and using brand new shop equipment to pierce her left nipple just like the model on the cardboard. Penina thought that if they were allowed to stay as managers after slavery passed then short-haired Mary would have to assign herself a piercing time between the tagging of dogs and cats. Right between "Emperor Fluffs" and "Rosco" she would write "Mary (slave-manager)" in ballpoint pen.
Jack smiled wider. "Really we're here for my Penina. What would you like her to do for you, babe?"
She couldn't stop swallowing, she couldn't stop the stream of nervous laughter popping from her throat anymore than she stop holding her thighs so tightly together, or anymore than she could stop the sweet and stick leak very quickly soaking the flowery blue panties she had on beneath her canary yellow romper.
"No-- no thank you! We're just here, ha, ha, we're just looking for our dog. Uhm, a collar for her. That's all!"
Mary nodded. "Aisle 7 for dog collars. We do the tags once you get to the register. If you don't have a tag yet. What breed is she?"
Jack offered nothing but a patronizingly deferential look at Penina. "Oh," she said. "Oh we don't, uh, we don't know, uh--"
She struggled desperately to think of dogs.
Marmaduke? Was that a breed or a name? What was the Frasier dog? Eddie, yes, but...
"A j-jack russel terrier, is what she is!!"
"Oh cute! My brother has a jack russel."
Jack cut in. "No, Pen, that collar is going to be way too small for us. A jack russel? They hunt mice, come on."
"Right, n-no, she's not a jack russel," Penina said. "Uh, we don't know, she's, uhm, kind of a mutt! But bigger, than uh, than that."
"Aw, well, every dog needs a home, purebred or street." Mary said. "What's her name?"
Fuck this bitch go stock some fucking tuna cans,
Penina thought. "Marie. Marie the mutt!"
Jack laughed in his smooth smoky way. Even when she surprised him he never lost the butter in his manner. "Thank you Mary, I think we can find it from here," he said.
He nodded, and Mary nodded to him, and left. But Penina knew she had taken that insult and mentally noted that this guy's girlfriend was a huge bitch. She could already tell how the rest of their relationship would go: girls would always love Jack and hate her. But she hated them too! It wasn't easy getting Jack and it wouldn't be easy keeping him. She had been working overtime all week to keep their dates exciting and keep herself done up and beautiful and perfect for him. His dating profile had said he liked "casual girls" and this was an extra challenge, to be perfect in a casual way. Penina fancied herself a very extra girl: a full face of makeup to get convenience store ramen at 3am, painstaking hours practicing wings, perfecting the blend, matching her nails to her hair to her outfit and cool as a cucumber Jack wanted all that but casual? She could deliver. She learned to be extra, she could learn to be a fuckable hang-around girl. And either way, no bitch was going to out-do her at the game of adapting to her man's preferences. She would show them.
Jack's hand found it's way down to her ass. "Bad dog," he hissed into her ear and pinched as hard as he ever had.
An older couple were looking over dog brushes at one end of aisle 7, and at the other were rows of collars. Penina grabbed the first red one she found, it was a thick corrugated cloth with a black plastic snap and as soon as she yanked it off the shelf she turned into Jack's chest and said, quietly, "Got it!"
"Oh you've got it?" Jack said, not quietly. "I can tell you've put so much thought into it."
