On my eighteenth birthday I entered writer Donovan Price’s world, agreeing to be his muse, his pet, as he writes his next great novel about a man who keeps a collared woman as a pet for one hundred days. No one ever gets this close to this reclusive writer but I did. And today, we finalize our agreement.
Day 1. Donovan returned to the kitchen table with a file folder full of paper.
“I wrote The Rules out for you,” he said, pushing a set of papers towards me. “I’ll post a set on the fridge. Just to make sure we have a clear understanding of what’s expected of you, you’re going to read them out loud.”
“Okay,” I said, before clearing my throat. “Pet is to remain indoors at all times and will be dressed in clothing chosen by Owner.”
“You are an indoor pet,” he said, “You can only go out if I open the door.”
“Pet must remain on all fours (crawl) while inside house.”
He reached into a bag for pair of padded volleyball kneepads and fingerless padded gloves and pushed towards me.
“You can wear these.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting them. “Pet may stand when outside. Permissions. Pet must place her paw on Owner’s leg for permission to speak. Pet must always ask for permission to join Owner in bed or on the couch. Otherwise, Pet must remain on the floor or on given pet bed.”
I glanced at the large pet futon bed with a plaid blanket in the corner.
He said, “There’s a twin futon you’ll sleep on in my bedroom.”
“Okay. Pet may not remove her collar. Pet must sit properly when collared. How?”
He got up and led me to my pet bed. He made me kneel, with my butt resting on my heels, before he placed my hands on my thighs just above my knees.
“Stiff back. Now arch it. Perfect.”
“Do I get to pick out my collar?”
“No.”
He helped me to my feet and walked me back to the table where, what was to be the last time, I took a seat at the kitchen table.
“Pet must use the toilet in Pet’s designated room. Pet and Pet’s room must always be clean.”
“Your room is the first floor nanny suite where I put your bags. So you don’t have to crawl upstairs too often.”
I continued. “Pet will pleasure Owner when told. Pet may only orgasm only at Owner’s consent.”
I cleared my throat. He looked at me, daring me to run but I continued. “Pet must stay out of Owner’s personal space (bedroom, desk drawers.) Pet must stay off all of Owner’s home electronic communications devices (computer, tablet, and phone.) Any infractions of the Pet’s rules will result in punishment. So if I scratch up your couch, you’re gonna spray me with the water bottle?”
“I may smack you on the head with a rolled up newspaper or flog your bare bottom with a leather flogger. Whatever you deserve.”
I wasn’t naive to bondage or whips. I’d just never done that. He could see apprehension in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You won’t end up dead in a ditch. I promise. You’re free to leave whenever you want but if you go, you can’t come back. So are you going to obey The Rules or am I going to have to train you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try.”
He smiled at my ignorance.
I signed the consent and confidentiality papers and with that I was his for a hundred days.
“Okay,” I said, setting down the pen. “What’s first?”
“Like I do with any stray. You need a bath. Come on.” I stood to follow and he glared, snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. I immediately dropped to my hands and knees and proceeded to crawl behind him. I was well behind him as he entered my bedroom suite. Water was gushing into the tub as I crawled into the bathroom and saw him sitting on the tub’s rim swishing the warming water with his hand.
He stood and said, “Stand up. Get undressed.”
My legs trembled as I stood, now very unsure of what I’d signed onto. He looked at me with bored eyes.
“Oh come on,” he said. “Take off your clothes and let me bathe you. Or I can hose you off in the backyard. Or you can go home. It’s your choice but don’t waste my time.”
My hands were not under my control, moving more by his will as I pulled off my t-shirt and dropped it on the floor. I stepped out of my shorts, standing in my underwear. He stared at me, waiting. My hands wandered behind my back to unhook my bra and it fell to the ground. I tugged down my panties, stepped out of them and into warm sudsy water.
He waited until I was seated to sit on the tub’s edge then squirted some liquid soap onto a plush hand towel, wet it in the water, and began to wash my back. The warm water, his hands, it was all very soothing and I relaxed under his care. His eyes were mesmerized at the sight of hardening nipples awash in bubbles, staring at them as though these were the first tits he’s ever seen.
“I’m thinking about getting a boob job.”
“No. Don’t. And sweetheart, ask permission to speak.”
He pulled my feet from beneath the water and washed my toes before running the cloth along my legs until it moved under water to my thighs. His hand nudged my thighs to open and they did. I looked into his eyes, so blue and in command. They held me like prey as his soapy cloth pushed between my flesh to rub my clit. I sharply inhaled before closing my eyes and a moan escaped my lips. The water began to move with me as my hips moved against his cloth covered hand. And when I thought I could actually cum, he withdrew his hand. I opened my eyes to see him gazing at me in wonder.
He said, “Remember, you have to ask my permission to cum.”
“Can I cum?”
“No.”
“Okay,” I said, slowing my breath.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
“I think so.”
“You’d know if you did. Dress and come down for dinner.”
He left me in the tub where I finished up and after dressing in a t-shirt and panties he laid out for me and blow drying my hair, I crawled down the hall into the kitchen where Donovan slid a hot quesadilla out of the pan and onto a plate. He looked down at me and pet my head, which I rubbed against his leg, then cut the quesadilla into neat triangles before taking the plate to a large carpeted rubber mat. He returned to his laptop and started to write. When I finished eating, I crawled over to him but he told me to go to my bed.
“You can watch TV but keep it down.”
I obeyed, crawling to the pet bed in the corner where I laid curled up watching TV. After a few hours, he quit for the night. I crawled behind him up the stairs to his bedroom where he stripped down to his shorts before getting into bed. I crawled over to the bed and placed my hand on it, asking permission to join him.
“No. Go sleep on your pet bed.”
I crawled over to the futon and laid down staring at the moon light coming through the balcony door. I looked over at him settling into his comfortable bed. He’d given me a nice soft blanket but I had no pillow. I crawled back over to the bed. He looked over his shoulder to watch me drag one of his pillows off his bed with my teeth and drag it back to my bed to settle down. He chuckled.
“Good night, Pixie.”
Abridged Chapter 3 fromPixie: Secrets of a Collared Pet. Available on Kindle and iBooks!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/425lom/day_1_the_rules_bath_time_for_pixie_mf_sub