The Property of Dana and Tracy

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2022 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; F+/f; fpov; bond; sex; chain; naked; cage; exhib; rom; cons; X

Continues from

In case of emergency, break glass

"… One ring, that just means they're leaving the market, we still have some time to get put back together here."

"Why not just call?"

"I think Dana was being frugal, the phone company charges for actual completed calls by the minute, AFTER you pick up, so if we don't answer she gets her dime back from the payphone. And this way as well, if we were 'busy,' one of us wouldn't have to stop to answer."

"How thoughtful of her," I quip. "I need a shower bad though; and maybe you do too?" I ask, but then my mind switches gears, it's as if nothing can be hidden from me once my mind starts to puzzle over something. At home it was almost like I was a rootbound potted plant, and even though I'm under heavy supervision here, chained to the house itself, it's like I'm free, free to be the real me at least. It's a very liberating mindset, an odd point of view to be sure for a chained new slave.

I also find it rather telling that Dana has allowed me this specific time to perform the duties she's permitted, this is not only activity control on her part, but time control as well. The activity has been selected, the time allotted selected as well; what was really left then, other than to perform, or perhaps fail to perform? This is nothing but the exercise of raw power and control on her part, and therefore not the least bit spontaneous, and I feel maybe just a bit like a performing seal at some large aquarium. But, Dana herself apparently didn't want to watch this show that she specifically arranged, and I catch myself puzzling over the significance of that…

"I can wait," Dennis tells me, his abrupt tone change making this man almost sound like a different one than the one that just savaged my thighs with frottage. The raw aggression is no longer there, and I maybe even detect a hint of regret in his tone.

"Or you could come in with me, do my back, maybe even my front too?" It's an extended offer to maybe even do some more, run the clock out until my friends arrive, if Dennis somehow has anything left after all that frantic thrusting. He seems half reluctant to join me in the shower, but I also know that guys change the instant they orgasm; to be fair though so do I, so I'm sympathetic. But, I've enjoyed our one on one time together, and selfishly I want to prolong it, and a part of me also wants to be seen still enjoying myself with Dennis when the girls get back, maybe showing Dana the last part of the show that she intentionally wanted to miss. I'm not the least bit embarrassed by what we've just done together - it was actually rather different and fun - but that begs the question…

Is Dennis embarrassed by how he just used my body to bring himself off, and has my stated desire to spend even more time with him just clearly told him that I'm not? It was different to be sure, but not by any means terrible different…

Apparently accepting my invitation Dennis scoops me up and carries me into the bathroom like a child, so that I don't drip his considerable mess all over the floor. We did shower together too, it was truly special, but his idea of the perfect temperature and mine were two different things. He first soaped my back, slowly warming to this different form of intimacy, he even massaging my shoulders that were sore from hanging from the pipe, and in the process repaying the earlier favor. He really started getting into it then and soaped up my front next, paying special attention to my rather unimpressive boobs, toying with my once again painfully erect nipples; rough hands and all it felt just wonderful. Working men, tradesmen, have rough hands from the work they do, where teen boys and even college professors don't. I would have liked to soap him up too, feeling up that magnificent body with a realistic excuse for doing so, but our shower and his position behind me in the close confines of the tub started out rather one-sided that first time, again serving me first…

It was also a close and intimate little moment, somehow maybe even better than our quasi-sex, as odd as that sounds. Dennis was continuing a pattern with me as well; he did something wonderful for me first. He also became erect again while "washing" me, no surprise there and actually quite good for my own growing ego, but sending him away in that condition just wouldn't do. I then bent over at the waist and ground my bare ass up against him playfully with my hands on the tile wall, before inviting him to have sex with my thighs again, although this time they were slick with soap. It was a second offer of trust, because other parts of me would be easily accessible like that, and some men apparently like that kind of thing, although conceptually my teenage brain finds one of those particular acts nasty, not to mention that soapy things generally don't belong inside of you…


His muscular left arm wrapped around my soapy hips and held me one handed like I was clamped in a human vice, his fingers even forming little bruises later on, all as his free open-palm hand briefly traced the outline of my tattoo. My feet were hardly touching the floor of the tub at that point, and his grip left me feeling deliciously manhandled and overpowered. I half expected him to playfully spank me in that shower, the bare skin on skin wet slap sure to make me yelp, but perhaps lacking the proper excuse of any apparent misbehavior on my part he chose not to.

He did drill into me from behind while holding me firm and immobile though, the act not doing all that much for me physically this time, but it was wild to watch from that perspective; a large man's appendage appearing over and over again between my legs as if it were my own. Or, perhaps it was as if he were inexplicably missing the proverbial target while drilling into me with reckless naked passion from behind. I felt like a two pound ragdoll in his powerful arms, but the simple word "powerful" doesn't really do Dennis proper justice; masterful, magnificent, maybe even maximum surely better ones. Anyway, this time he came a little less forcefully into the draining tub and not actually on me, but it took forever for him to actually pop off that second time. I was then left to wonder how many times in a row Dennis could do it without a lengthy recharge in between.

The girls had tag teamed him once already, telling me that he could perform the "work" of two men doing such things, but to be clear I didn't know specifically how he had done such for them. I could imagine a hundred different scenarios, but how to ask such a question, and if I did, would I really want the answer, as in do I really need that mental picture of those specific acts? In my mind it would likely be half envy and half jealousy, neither really healthy emotions for the owned, or really anybody.

They had used him handily that day. Did he think they were doing so again, using my body as their reluctant coin this time? Did I just disprove that theory by inviting him into the shower with me, did I just tell him that while this might be the girl's desire for me, it was also my desire too, that I was a willing slave for him as well? 

The good news was that I could get into the bathroom with my chain in place, but the bad news was that if I was in the shower or tub, I didn't have enough slack to close the door for privacy. Was this intentional, or mere happenstance? There was a gap under that door specifically that would accommodate my small chain and allow me to sit in privacy with the door closed, but I can't say if it was always there, or if this was something that was modified during the sprinkler system installation.

Anyway, Dennis and I are still in the shower and just finishing up when the girls get back home with the groceries - only because we had exhausted the supply of hot water - and he has to walk right by them in his skin to get to his hastily discarded clothes, saying hello nonchalantly as if walking around naked is business as usual for him too. It is for my owned self in this special place obviously, but I'm a different person, a collared and branded servant, a naked house slave, really almost a near object for sale or rent. Dennis is standing straight back tall and on display too, but he has nothing to be ashamed of, body wise, although having popped off twice back to back has left him perhaps exhausted and not presenting well, as far as his impossibly scrubbed clean man bits. He's sated and relaxed though - but also smelling like girl soap - no tension at all, and I love that I was able to do that for him, erase his worries, even if just for a few hours. I'm sated and content too though, and the world and my outlook on it has improved with that one little act.


There are obviously things churning about in the back of my active mind, but I chose to leave them there for the time being.

I also catch myself feeling ever so slightly shallow and self-centered here; I've had MY orgasms, given Dennis something wonderful as well, and even though naked, chained, and on display, all is now right in the world from my limited perspective. I've been conditioned to this for years though, to serve the girls, and really others, to get into the back of the car, or even the back of the line. Hell, I've even ridden in the trunk, more than once, like a true object, like luggage maybe, or perhaps more accurately, an appliance.

Both objects are useful and necessary when you actually need them, but stowed away someplace out of sight and mind when you don't.

Why on earth had I just thought that? I wondered.

Anyway, it's clear that Dennis freely accepts my humble skinny naked ass at face value - tattoo of ownership and all - he even desires me; this is again very good for my ego, but a little curious, as I assume a man like Dennis could do a little better than a skinny teen girl from out of town with an obvious kink or two. He easily could have let me kneel before him and service him like a lot of men would have done - like Gregory had - but he wasn't interested in that, perhaps because he thought it degrading for me. It's something to think about when I have just a bit more time, because transporting me nearly naked in a covered pet cage in the back of his truck apparently wasn't degrading at all, nor was chaining me by my neck to the plumbing he installed; but perhaps that was then, and this is now.

There's obviously a lot more to Dennis than meets the eye though, even though he's the primary architect of the device that keeps me chained up here for the girls, but one that also keeps me from running off and getting squashed on the road like a real-life escaped naughty pet; so a little bad, and a little good, all at the same time. Life is apparently like that - as I'm quickly learning while away from my childhood home - not everything is quite so black and white in the real world. This entire adventure maybe isn't even one hundred percent safe, but it is fun; if one can maintain the proper mental attitude.

Doing unsafe things safely; it could explain our entire generation's mindset, certainly it explained some of what the girls and I have going on together. Being stripped, bound, and abandoned under a porn palace highway billboard certainly wasn't the least bit safe, but then again I hadn't really been alone then either. Stripped naked and bound to a table in a tattoo shop on the wrong side of the tracks, dumped off there even, that wasn't the least bit safe either; a million things could have gone wrong, but still none really did…

As an added bonus, my bitter pre-orgasm attitude towards the girls and my self selected lot in life is all but forgotten, and I actually feel myself smiling. I feel happy, but not quite so used, like when Gregory and I had hooked up, although to be fair I was the instigator there, offering myself up for exactly that. I wanted to be used then because it felt comfortable and practiced; again so many things to sort out when I had the time to really think.

Gregory used me with very little coaxing on my part, Dana and Tracy use me all the time and pretty much always have, but Dennis stands out as unique in this group as he's reluctant to do so himself, even though I've been gifted to him specifically for this purpose; it's also a lot to think about.

I thought maybe that I "wanted" to be used, that I found comfort with that which was familiar, but who could blame me with all the conditioning I had to even this point in life; although this was obviously nice too. This was maybe better than that time with Gregory, although neither episode could accurately be called sexual intercourse; I truthfully had already done more with the highschool boys I went to school with. It was really just mutual sexual gratification and play, but it still pains me to think this, as if I'm betraying Gregory with the very thought. They are two completely different men though, about the only thing they have in common is their friendship, and a shared interest in human pets, two specific ones to be sure, as I had only recently learned.


The girls are smiling too when Tracy tells me to put the groceries away that they've graciously carried in for us, but they've had some alone time away from their own childhood home for the first time in weeks, and this is after sleeping in the same bed and likely being intimate with each other almost every night while up here at the summerhouse the last time. It's as if that last time up here had been their honeymoon, as if they were a newly married couple, and looking back at things in that light my presence had to be a serious cramp, as did my running away on them, good friend or not. I had felt just a bit jealous that last time to be honest, but that was really more of my problem than theirs.

It's not like they've had enough time to do anything physical together yet, but I'd be shocked if they hadn't shared an inviting look, discussed it; perhaps even a few passionate kisses and touches hurriedly exchanged in the privacy of Dana's car. I again realized that if I was missing my intimacy and feeling cranky, shouldn't they be as well? I saw their tenderness towards each other on the ride up in the car, and while I maybe still wanted something like that for myself, with the girls even, I was coming to realize that it just wasn't likely to ever happen; a three way love interest almost certain to leave one of the three behind at some point, and I already knew who that would be. Just like in the other things that we three actually did together, one of the three of us would be the lesser partner in anything physical. So there would still be love between us, just not that exact kind.


The girls' collective moods also affect my treatment, but is this really unheard of in the course of even normal human interactions, let alone while adding a third "lesser" human to the teenage mix, one so very far from the other authority figures that we'd all grown up with? Moody Dana specifically was therefore to be appeased going forward; she in a way like the head of our odd looking family unit, the head disciplinarian too. Maybe being captain of the ship was a better way to look at her role here?

This is therefore nothing really new, and especially easy for one like myself with a submissive mindset anyway. Tracy not so much, and I then wonder if the two would even get along in this sequestered new environment; if they weren't lovers first. Sex might not solve all the problems of the world - "Make love, not war" posters are getting popular these days - but shared intimacy does bring two people closer to each other. Without me, their slave, there to do the menial chores associated with managing a home, their family dynamic would have to change - the two couldn't ever be simple roomates here either - one would have to be dominant over the other, and while Dana does have home field advantage, Tracy isn't really all that submissive, at least as compared to me. I could see that leading to some strife between my two owners, something to be avoided as well, even at a cost to myself if necessary…

Would my good friends even know the true purpose that I serve for them, my presence perhaps the glue that allows them to stick together? What would happen to the two when my term of service had ended, and I got on with my own life?

I might even like to bask in the rich afterglow of such wonderful orgasms for a few more moments, ponder life's mysteries, but I've been directed to the more mundane chore of putting away the groceries. So, with my chores set Dennis and I are separated for just a bit, almost like Gregory and I were once separated. Divide and conquer, or assign the lesser thoughtless task to the lesser human of the group? I wonder.


The girls don't even allow Dennis the privacy to dress in private, but I almost get the feeling that they like watching this "lesser" man display himself and perform for them. For me personally, watching a man undress, or better yet helping him, is far more wonderful than watching him dress, but that could just be me. It's anticlimactic watching somebody dress, just as it is to untie somebody after the fun has happened.


Anyway, he'd performed for them once before, both of them at the same time, although then I assume that there was both an equal level of undress and passion, so this wasn't really new for them, his magnificent muscular body likely a known thing to them too. A thought then occurred to me, but I didn't have the time to chase it down to a conclusion in my mind right at the moment. The short version was that I've been given mostly the girls' leftovers in the recent past, in the form of actual table scraps scraped from their plates and eaten off the floor, or a hand-me-down dress, or even in the form of Dennis, as they physically had him first. Gregory breaks this tradition though, and while we didn't do everything we might have liked to because of the girls' prohibition on such activities, we certainly had been intimate together, I certainly had him first, in an odd kind of way.

Then the question gets asked while Dennis is buttoning his shirt, the same one I had removed from him not two hours earlier; "what happens if this place burns to the ground while she's home alone?" I heard this asked from over my shoulder as I was putting the food away, but I have this chore to do first, even though this obviously pertains to me, and the consequences are obviously severe. It's almost like everybody was thinking this exact thing, but nobody wanted to say it out loud. To Dennis' credit though, he didn't likely think being chained to the house itself would be a twenty-four seven kind of thing for me, at least when not actually in class. He likely assumed a once in a while thing, or even an unused hollow threat, which would make the extraordinary investment in such seem even more unwise. To justify the labor and expense of this "sprinkler system" it has to get used, and used often, it's the only logical course of action. Dana might have a hidden nasty streak, sadistic even, but she's also logical, and certainly frugal with her own money where clothes and fashion aren't concerned.

"In our high school they had these red, glass faced boxes in the halls, ones that you were supposed to pull the lever on if there was ever a fire or something. The glass would break, and I assumed the sprinklers would go, or even some alarm of some kind would sound. Tracy and I were talking, wondering really if you could put something like this in for us, and if you could, would it be possible to put one of the two keys to her collar behind the glass?"

"'In case of emergency, break glass.' I like it," Dennis confirms, and his tone has a certain level of respect in it for the clever nature of Dana's solution to a potential peril for the new house slave, meaning of course me. A single thing with a dual purpose; a trademark indication that this concept came from Dana herself. This will of course entail even more hours of servitude that I will "owe" Dennis for, but strangely enough I don't mind that so much now…

…Orientation, class schedule, public bus schedules that ran close enough to the summer house so as to make this almost practical - which was a surprise - all went so quickly. We saw a very busy and harried looking Gregory - now Professor B to us in this setting - he telling us quickly that he's under the microscope due to something that hasn't been revealed to him yet. He tells us that nobody has made a formal accusation of anything, but my mind drifts towards his former pet girlfriend Lisa, and their abrupt breakup, especially since I now have some inside information on that. So as a result, and even knowing that he had been instrumental in recruiting three new students, he has to maintain some distance and maintain a purely professional demeanor around us, for the short term at least.

This maybe explains why he didn't contact me during the rest of my summer back home, but it also leaves me with more questions than answers. I feel a little used because of that, and the feeling is unsettling for me. I had also opted for being used, so to be clear there is some fog over this issue that some private conversations could easily clear up, but a young woman's mind also drifts towards the worst case scenario at times like this too. Was Gregory really interested, or only really interested in getting off with a compliant naked teenager that shared some of his kinks? Or, was he afraid to reengage with the opposite sex after the last relationship had ended so badly, with little apparent explanation?


Anyway, for the first semester's classes, ones that we each will need for our major, it was most practical to schedule my classes around Dana and Tracy's, I obviously see a secondary purpose in this, my ability to cover for them academically, as in doing their homework for them, taking notes for them too if necessary; easing them into college life. This as well works for Dana's two birds with one stone approach, so while we will have similar classes in the beginning, I will potentially have triple the homework, possibly altering my handwriting for each assignment so it doesn't look like I was doing it all.

The girls swim and sun at the pond while it's still nice enough out, and basically have their hands all over each other every chance they get, all as I do homework, clean the house, and cook too; sleep is therefore never a problem for me at all. Getting to sleep, that is, as far as sleeping enough, that's another matter. I'm so busy that I don't have any time to ponder not being in my childhood home any longer, or the fact that I had willingly sold myself into slavery for all this. I still have my childhood best friends at least, there with their hands all over each other at every opportunity, but they do love me in their own way, so there is that.

I see a problem or two after the first week though, the girls attract the attention of several fellow students, but it's clear to everybody that they only seem to have eyes for each other. It's almost sickening to watch, it's like they have to physically touch each other every ten minutes or so, and I'm not the only one to notice either, sitting behind them as is my custom. Some of this is likely due to my building bitterness, I again need the attention of a man, and soon. I could possibly do it for myself, although the girls have me sleeping in my pet crate again, and even though I sleep a floor below their own I just don't feel like I have that kind of privacy with their bedroom door sometimes open; like they'd notice the moment I did it. I'm exhausted all the time too, so while I physically need some kind of sexual relief, I don't necessarily have the time and desire for it. It's a maddening set of circumstances, and it makes me just a bit bitchy too.

They also had me move my cage next to a couch, as if it was an oversized end table, and they even have a plain tablecloth to cover it with, in case we get surprise visitors and they need to make me temporarily disappear. One can argue that it's likely far easier to explain a large covered box pet crate than it is to explain a naked human slave girl chained by her neck to the house's plumbing. My crate is even directly under one of the sprinkler pipes that doubles as my pet run hard anchor point, so I can get myself into this thing easily, even while rushed, although there have been no reasons to as of yet.


I'm pretty much chained up to the house whenever we're home, and so far that's been with us together, or at least with the girls no farther away than the pond. The school workload is pretty tough as well, at least for me, but these are beginning courses designed to set certain principles - or perhaps refresh them - and our individual later courses will build on these. I try to show the girls what they're supposed to be getting from all this, but this puts me in the position of explaining something to them, and that just doesn't fly with Dana specifically. They do actually pay attention in class, between getting all touchy feely with each other, so there's that. Tracy maybe gets what I'm trying to tell her, but I have to leave it to her to get Dana on board. That she doesn't want to do the actual work is one thing, but she still needs to learn the actual concepts, the building blocks for later courses.


It's an odd dichotomy between school and home. In class I dress in whatever the girls let me wear that particular day, hand-me-downs mixed in with some of my own highschool clothes, nothing even close to trendy, or dare I say sexy, where the girls themselves dress quite nicely. I don't quite look homeless, but it's painfully clear that fashion isn't my passion, and of course that I don't come from the same kind of material wealth that the girls do.

Our primarily male professors, and a whole bunch of the boys in class with us, take notice of the girls, but both of them are quite pretty and well turned out, well tanned too. Boys and men are naturally drawn to that kind of thing, especially with the ratio of boys to girls at this particular college. Nice clothes and perfect hair and nails also suggest wealth, as does an almost new car, maybe not earned wealth at this stage of their lives, but related wealth. I see the difference in the way the girls are treated; softer, kinder, more forgiving. I've obviously seen this before, but with my fully turned on brain I maybe have a little better understanding of the psyche that goes into this kind of preferential treatment. If you dress, act, and look important, you probably are, or so most people likely assume around here, at least until you prove differently. The girls are unapproachable in class, they project this, which also adds to their "important" persona.

I however excel in class academically though, I have almost all the answers, but I don't give them until everybody else has had an opportunity first. People notice that too, but I'm trying very hard NOT to get noticed, to fly under the proverbial radar. If college is supposed to be making me into an independently educated woman, a woman with open doors ahead of her, the girl's overwhelming character and my servitude to them has me acting more like an accessory, like their woman-servant, which I obviously am outside the halls of learning. I must live enslaved to eventually have those distant doors opened for me? What was I thinking? I sometimes wonder.

It quickly becomes like a running joke that we three actually live together; two curvy voluptuous peas in one proverbial pod, and one skinny stringbean. How long before we have friends visit from academia, despite the girl's efforts to remain aloof? I wonder in my active mind. Would I be presented as is, perhaps with the excuse that I had lost a wager with the girls, or would we have to fabricate an entire story that might not stand up to scrutiny, to include our sleeping arrangements, both the girls, and my own. Ironically enough, of everything, the dual purpose sprinkler system might actually be the most plausible element of our living arrangements…

Anyway, once back at the summerhouse, and to confirm my status at "home" I have to immediately strip down and switch gears the moment I break the plane of the doorway, becoming the chained naked serf; cleaning, laundry, cooking, and of course homework too. Sometimes they even have me strip down while just leaving the parking lot at college, ducking down to stay out of sight less somebody we know sees me. They've even done this in the rain, making me run naked from the car to the summerhouse if I've drawn too much attention to myself, to "cool" myself down. Once only - so far - they even had me get out in the pouring rain in just my skin to get the mail, making me hand it into the just-open window to Dana, she then telling me to run for the summerhouse down the impossibly long driveway as she and Tracy followed in her dry car. If I ran too slow would she have run me over that day? I wondered, it almost felt like that. I had too many answers that day in class, and she was trying to teach me some humility, or so she later claimed.

In class I'm the first to have the answer, but at home I'm the last to both eat and get into the shower, usually having cool servings of each. It starts to get to be too much to handle in short order, as every professor thinks his or her class is the most important, workload wise, and Tracy volunteers to have her and Dana rewrite the homework assignments in their own hand, she in her own stealthy way getting the concepts for her and Dana in this way without Dana likely being the wiser. Copying the work isn't exactly like doing it yourself, but it's a better review than not, and these early classes are a kind of review of some of our high school high honors classes anyway. Maybe friends do that for each other, see a weakness and help with that, and maybe my weakness is a lack of direction and purpose, and the girls in their own way have given this to me, although at an obvious steep price.

Maybe if back at home still and cramping my folks style and freedom - while going to community college with that hand-me-down used car - I might have instead met a young man that might be courting me at this very moment, but that would mean that the friends that I had served pretty much my whole life would have to do for themselves, and I felt a certain duty to help there, a higher purpose in that service. That would mean no Gregory, no Dennis, and no away-from-home freedom, although I know that being a house slave isn't exactly free either; the two things are inconsistent. Such concepts to wrestle with when one really starts to think about things, like when trying to go to sleep after an exhausting day.

I also need a little stress relief, the girls are getting all they can handle sleeping together as they are - I've heard those extended yelpy passionate sounds many times - but me, not so much. Their growing closeness is almost painful to watch, but endearing too, and watching that up close and personal I might like to get a little social with some of my classmates even; my need and desire is becoming that great. But I'm almost attached at the hip with both girls as they have my ride, or so goes my excuse for the short term. I'm also a serious student, so that's a good secondary excuse too. Two birds with one stone? I wonder, as in is Dana rubbing off on me.

College boys are likely just like highschool boys anyway though, I easily dismiss in my mind, only slightly older and away from home traveling on Daddy's dime, so even dating one of them, even if the girls would somehow permit it, maybe isn't the best plan. I'm traveling on Daddy's dime myself, and of course by the generosity of the girls, and Dana's family too, so this snarky observation of mine is not without its own faults. Gregory even seems off limits now, but out of the blue on a Friday he asks if we could stop by his house after class; catching the three of us in the halls between classes…

"…Thanks for coming," Gregory greets us at the door. "I'll cut right to the chase; I'm under investigation at the school, somebody found a second copy of your contract, apparently the copier spitting it out with some other papers and it found its way to the dean, mixed in with his papers. They may suspect I wrote it since the machine is near my office, but I don't think they can prove it. They maybe even think I'm running some kind of slavery ring with new students or something, or so they likely suspect by the words of the contract itself. Even that doesn't make sense though, because I haven't talked to any cops yet, and if they suspected a crime, why wouldn't they just call the cops, fire me, and wash their hands of the whole thing?"

We three just stared for several seconds, waiting for the punchline to this horrible joke.

"What can we do?" Tracy eventually asks.

"I can't morally ask you to lie, but if you're asked at some point in the future about our relationship, you might want to work out your answers ahead of time." Gregory makes eye contact with me for a moment while saying this, so I understand that this is maybe specifically intended for me. He did bind me up and have his way with me - with my consent though - but depending on how exactly this was presented it could look very bad for a college professor to have done so with a stripped naked teen girl, willing or otherwise.


"Do you think they'll contact anybody else?" I ask, the "anybody" I have in mind obvious.

"Liiiiike?" Gregory asks, his tone leading me to conclude that I'm treading on soft ground, even though we share so much together, even though I hold so much in my proverbial hands. He wrote the contract that binds me to the girls, he knows of my deeply held kinks and desire to serve, in other words this man knows me.

"Like the former occupant of my cage?" I clarify. I specifically didn't say "Lisa," because that would require an explanation, and implicate Dennis in something I promised not to reveal. I'm fairly certain that I'm not supposed to know her name, I have to remember that little fact, I remind myself.

"They asked for her address, so I can only assume so."

"You gave us a pet cage that you no longer needed; one we thought we might need in the future ourselves; big deal," Tracy opines. This sounds like as good an excuse for us knowing each other as any, and there is even an element of truth in it too.

…Lisa is the variable that I just don't know here, she sounds nice and all, but she could tell the authorities anything, especially if she has an ax to grind with Gregory…

Gregory seems just a bit more at ease knowing at least that "we" have no intentions of throwing him under the proverbial bus with the college, but this is his career, and while not something any of us can directly relate to at this point in life, it's obvious that he likes doing what he does and wishes to continue doing so.

"And the other items I gave you?"

"An elaborate Halloween costume, one that we could easily have our pet model for them if they have the balls to ask," Tracy adds in rather unfitting vulgar terms.

"Funny that would be. Anyway, that just leaves the actual contract, I suppose, their actual physical evidence."

"It's my contract with the girls, not yours."

"I'm the author," Gregory counters.

"Prove it!" Dana jumps in and challenges while playing devil's advocate, and her sharp tone comes through clearly. Tracy catches this, and so do I, but we've known her far longer than Gregory has. The two may have even been at odds over my indoor pet run concept, but her tone implies that Gregory is still firmly in her orbit of friends, and therefore maternally protected, in as much as Dana can do so. She can be playfully severe with us when we've displeased or disappointed her, but there is also an element of enraged momma bear with her in regards to outside threats to us.

And just like that, the soon to be nineteen year old elemental force of nature Dana just clearly told the twenty-five-ish year old college professor that both she, and by extension we, have his back. I was watching this power play carefully with my fully turned on brain; this is how one builds followership, the necessary compliment to leadership. Dana IS a natural leader, and any condition that challenges that is to be met with resistance, whether that be her folks, Gregory, her brothers, or even the college as an institution. "A leader can be wrong, but never uncertain" I remember reading in some book once, and again Dana epitomizes this.

Their earlier apparent friction is all but forgotten; just two competing concepts for how to keep me safe at the summerhouse while unsupervised, and Dana making sure her version, the more secure and elaborate one, was the one we would use. I was contractually her property, her responsibility, and when viewed from that perspective it all made more sense. This power exchange was something to watch too, I briefly wondered if I might lose the Gregory I thought I knew, or if this was only his own temporary "safe harbor" in his obvious time of need.


"I have a fair amount of free time these days, outside of the school, and I've been working on a little side project near and dear to my heart with it. I may need some help with the R and D if we can find a way to get together unnoticed," Gregory tells us, but strangely while looking at Dana specifically, as if asking for her help, and not "our" help.

"Whatever you need, from any of us, you have," Dana answers cryptically, for the three of us. "We just have to make it work out with schoolwork, scheduling wise."


"Speaking of that, we owe the club a show, and as much as I'd just love to be there, I don't think that would be wise at this juncture."

"Has Dennis done a show, or did he just provide transport?" Dana asks.

"That was going to be my suggestion…"

"Not to change the subject, but I will; do all the professors have the same typewriters?" Tracy asks.

"Most of us have Royal's bought by the school, so yes."

"I read in this crime novel once that the way they found the kidnapper was the ribbon on his typewriter that he wrote the ransom note with; the ribbon had enough letters strung together to determine that that machine typed the letter that the cops were looking for."

"I'm pretty sure I've already changed the ribbon since summer, but maybe I should again. Thanks for that…"

The ride back home was a quiet one for me, the concept of doing a pet show, as a human pet, was much more easily pondered without an actual deadline. But this was an outside event, and the time for outside things was fast coming to an end this season. I would be wearing very little, my provocative exposure surely part of the draw of the event. I wouldn't even have Gregory "showing" me, but instead the girls, with Dennis's tutelage. At least my face would be masked, so I'd be anonymous, to an extent.

…The girls conversely enough were almost giddy, planning on what to buy and wear so as to look their stunning best as they showed their pet; had her, meaning of course me, compete against the other human pets in nearly naked public humility. There would be men there, and that meant that the girls would have to be turned out in their finest, even though "men" weren't ordinarily on their menu. It was odd to be sure, but it's just something that they both did; fishing with the very most tempting bait for fish that they ultimately didn't want to catch, only teasing; except maybe in Dennis' case…

Would they wish to seduce Dennis into round two with them as a pair, dressing their very best while I was chained, caged, and helpless? In a worst case fear scenario I could see the three of them in my mind's eye bent over the cage that I was locked in while they went at it together, graphically having those details filled in as I was forced to watch. In a further horror I could see being hit with some of their bodily fluids as they smiled down at me, shaking my cage violently with every thrust…


Then another slightly more sane thought occurred to me, if Dennis didn't want me to one-on-one privately fellate him because he found it degrading, how did he square that with this very public display? 

Well anyway, at some point before I completely lost my flippin’ mind to lust Dennis was scheduled to install the ordered red fire box with the glass front, and with him there Dana reluctantly hands over her key personally and watches Dennis lock it behind the glass face of the installed device, the unit closed and locked with still another key, which Dana takes. It's wired-in to both ring an alarm and turn the sprinklers on - or so I've been told - so this is nothing to even bump against while cleaning. So my key to freedom is within both sight and reach as if taunting me, but it might as well be on the moon in practical terms, less some kind of real world emergency forces me to set a whole bunch of terrible things in motion. Flooding the summerhouse and setting a false alarm that might even bring the fire company was a pretty high price to pay for escape, and truth be told I didn't know that I wanted to escape. Escape to where? was the other obvious question; I had given my word, struck a bargain, even signed a portion of my life away in a contract; how could one maintain her integrity and do all that?

Dennis stays for dinner at the girl's invitation - with me of course cooking and serving - the conversation including the upcoming show. Dennis isn't concerned at all, just business as usual for him, or so he projects. I'll have much more skin in the game than the others obviously, but his confidence has an effect on me. It'll all turn out fine because Dennis will be there, and the girls too obviously. They then go to bed almost right after, leaving Dennis and I together to clean up, and maybe collect his second installment payment on his sprinkler job with some limited privacy, if we keep quiet enough.

He helps me in my task, which I appreciate, as even at this early point, doing anything even close to cleaning up, or anything close to housework, is exclusively my job. I do homework, laundry, all the cooking and cleaning - even picking up their "missed-toss" discarded underthings up off the bathroom floor right next to the hamper if they're in a hurry - and I'm chained to the house pretty much whenever I'm home. I feel like this place owns me just as much as the girls do, and it's almost unbelievable to me that I have any time to ponder my own physical needs at all.

Making their bed and changing the sheets like a hotel maid is possibly the worst part, as it smells like them, and girl sex, and that reminds me that they sleep together every night, and I sleep alone. They have each other every night, and I have the dishes. It of course might be nice to get out once in a while, take a break from all this, even if just for a few hours at a movie so the two lovebirds could have some alone time. I don't know if such is even open to me, or if I have the time away from my chores, as they will surely stack up if I don't do them for even a few hours. I don't know how Dana's family maid ever kept up if their entire household acted like this, but then again there had been a parade of them over the years, and presumably no homework for them to do either. I didn't have a frame of reference as to if this was normal or not - for live-in help - but living with the girls like this 24/7 really opens my eyes. Tracy might not be quite as bad as Dana, but she's getting there…

I won't be going very far tonight though, because the sole accessible key to my collar and chain is with the girls, someplace upstairs with them I'd wager. I also owe the pet club at least one show, and Sean from the tattoo shop some pictures as well, so I'll at least have to be allowed to "escape" at some point in the future here…

"Thank you for helping, Sir," I formally state to Dennis, maybe reminding him of my place here; of the direction of my needy thoughts. My words are sultry and charged, and we've been making eyes at each other all night, so the sir thing is really just me fishing a bit with him. Still this is quite far from dating, it feels more like "fish in a barrel" fishing, as in not that challenging for him. This means that I'm there for the proverbial taking, this a million miles away from playing hard to get, or courting. To dwell on the darker aspects of this odd relationship would make it feel just a bit like prostitution, as if this were a brothel, and Dana were the madam, selling my services to whoever could pay the fee…

"Sir, is it?" Dennis asks with a smile. There is this vibe between us as we work at cleaning up together - it's fortunately also a million miles away from the brothel thing - he's just telling me sooooo much with his body language alone; just as I'm likely doing myself. We bump and brush past each other as we work, but the work is only an excuse to do the bumping part. Foreplay in the kitchen maybe? It's my bare skin on his rough work clothing though, so the sensations are likely greater for me than him. We also have to work around my hanging chain, but that's like second nature for me now.

"Yes, Sir, it is, I'd hate to have you give a bad report, you know that they would punish me severely," I tell him as I wiggle my naked tattooed behind ever so slightly. My words are sexually charged, and my intent comes out naturally because of my need. I'm reminded of almost wanting him to playfully paddle me in the shower the last time, there is something about that for me, the power transfer aspect of it turns me on like madd.

"So, what would they do, if you sent me away needy?" he asks, softly and playfully, somehow maybe picking up on my need to be paddled like a naughty child, but I can also tell he's genuinely intrigued by the concept. This is maybe something that the man in him finds arousing, not straight up real pain or anything dark like that, but playful things; less severe forms of discipline; going through the motions as a form of foreplay. I see all this in his eyes, but the better I get to know him, the better I can read him. He's got a great smile too, freely given for me with his whole face involved, whereas for the girls he only smiles with his lips. I'm not wearing a thing, and still he's looking at my face, talking to my face, interacting with the young woman that I am, and not how I'm presented. He did briefly look at my butt when I wiggled it for him, but who could blame him?

"I'm a little more concerned about the show to be honest," I confided while changing subjects. I feel like I could tell Dennis anything and he wouldn't judge me. Spanking, no problem at all; pet show, problem.

"Don't be, it's like a big party, and trust me when I say that you'll easily be in the top ten. It's for the most part a very friendly bunch of people too, as you can imagine it's a rather exclusive bunch, think something like the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, but for hardly dressed human pets."


"Maybe a few at the larger events, but overall just a fun bunch, and this one is a local show besides; but as I said the finals are obviously a bit different."

"I'm afraid I won't measure up," I tell Dennis candidly, it's one of my greatest fears, like in a great many things that I do, except perhaps academics. The girls have something to do with this attitude of mine though, but I also realize maybe not intentionally.

"Nonsense, you're maximum, just look at yourself in the mirror! I'm far more afraid that you'll top three, and then you'll be off to the big show next. This event has a somewhat small local purse, the national show is big money for the winner; big bragging rights too. There is something else about you too, but I hesitate to mention it."

"Mention it" I tell him, preparing myself for the worst.

"Okay. You're super comfortable in your skin… as you should be. Most girls take their clothes off to fool around or take a shower, or go to bed, where you have to get dressed to go out in public, literally. You're almost uncomfortable in clothes, it shows. The pets you will be competing with will be fighting that "I'm nearly naked in public" mindset, it also shows, trust me I've seen this apprehension firsthand. Some chose to get a bit wasted beforehand to lose their inhibitions, but the judges can see that. You don't need any of that stuff, trust me you're going to rock their world."


"Can we change the subject now?" I ask. He's put me at ease about my uncertain future - to the extent that he can - and now I need to address it right now. I'm also uncomfortable with being the center of attention, as I'd rather just blend into the background, although dressed and chained as I am, that's impossible, so I'm forced to adjust. I've been conditioned to this though, so it's complicated, but the center of attention at a pet show will also potentially rock the girl's world too, and not in a good way for me.

"Of course… I brought my raincoats this time."

"Your raincoats?"

"Rubbers, condoms, whatever you want to call them, I brought them this time."

"Did you now?" I ask, and I then think to myself, this is far more like an arrangement than a date, and that brings me all the way back to the brothel thing in my mind.

"Yes, I did, but no pressure. We could literally do anything you might like instead" Dennis reading my face and likely seeing the trouble brewing there.

And there within lies the problem I think to myself. I might at times resent the girls' lazy ways, their self-serving use of me, but I still need this in some way, this relief from making decisions for myself, as much as I might like to deny it. I reserve the right to bitch about it in my mind, but if I had wanted true freedom, as in on-my-own freedom, I could have maybe had a version of that back home; to the extent that one can live under their parents roof and be free. I instead opted for this rather unique situation though; familiar friends in an unfamiliar far from home place, and I did so in such a way that it wouldn't be easy to back out either. It's a little like sailing to a deserted island, and then scuttling your boat; you'll be there until somebody rescues you, at whatever price they deem suitable. 

Dennis of course has his own issues to deal with, as in, his rather casual use of his guy parts has caused some problems for him in the past, so perhaps he's reluctant to get into more potential trouble with them, even though his desires and my own lean in the same general direction. Does the girl's unique arrangement to make installment payments with my body add legitimacy to this sex for services arrangement, freeing even a man like Dennis, conscience wise, from what happened with Lisa once? He has permission, it's been arranged, hell it's even already been paid for! Maybe it's something else though, but how to determine that without presuming too much here?

"So, am I just some convenient tail for you tonight, something to ease the manly stress that you have, the coin to work off my debt maybe?" I ask playfully, once again wiggling my ass for him. It's such a fine line for anybody to walk here, yes I wanted the no choices choice, the rough manhandled version of lovemaking that I fantasize about all the time, but I didn't want to be "just tail," I wanted to be a human being of net worth after it's all over. This of course runs smack dab into being presented as I am, as a naked human tool to do the bidding of two others, three if you count Dennis. "Will you still respect me in the morning" had probably been written a million times already, but in this context it was important to me… because Dennis was important to me.


Looking like Dennis does, combined with his other fine attributes, he probably has all the "tail" he can handle anyway, so this maybe is a bit of the supply and demand cycle here. The supply of tail for Dennis is likely endless, like sand on the beach, so the value is low, the desire for such likely low as well; been there and done that perhaps? But somebody like Lisa, or even both girls at the same time, something taboo and new like this, off limits maybe, that likely had interest and value. A conquest maybe, even unintentionally, just to see if he could? Neither apparently held enough interest for a second go though, understandable in Lisa's particular case, and maybe even in the girl's case as they had each other, their apparent primary preference, despite my irrational fears. Dennis apparently wanted a second go with me though, or would this technically still be the first? I'm still game if he is, but I also think that he might hurt me a bit if he isn't careful. He's a large full sized man, and I'm a skinny teen that hasn't had anything significant inside of me in quite some time.


"You are so much more than ‘just tail’," Dennis tells me reverently while staring into my eyes.


"I bet you say that to all the girls" I tell him, but again my tone is lighthearted and playful. I don't want those dark thoughts that make me wonder about everything, about everybody's motivations.

"Just the naked and chained ones," he jokes, but then he gets a bit more serious."There are no other girls by the way."

Interesting that is, I think to myself, maybe he's struggling as to where to place me in the order of things too?

"Is this how you imagined this would all work out when you first made that agreement with the girls?" I then asked.


"Not at all…"

Not Dennis' ideas on how this would go, not exactly mine either, but apparently pretty much exactly how Dana saw it going. I had to reluctantly admit to myself that this was therefore Dana's vision come to fruition. She was the driving force here, the queen of the hive, and one doesn't go against the queen. But, one may still be able to influence her decisions though, surely Tracy already had, in some minor things like homework.

"And you'd rather have the cash to finance the rest of your classes?"

"No, I think that ship has sailed, I need the cash so as to have a down payment, so that I can get a loan for a proper building. I could bore you to death with the numbers, but there is a ratio that you have to hit in order to be taken seriously by the bank, even at eight and a half percent interest."

"So you need either more income on paper, or a different banker?" I asked. "Or perhaps as a third option somebody with a building that you could use?"

"Or an infusion of cash from someplace that I haven't thought of yet, so the loan on the building is something I can actually handle…"

Easy to underestimate Dennis has a lot on his plate, and I now see the source of his stress. Maybe he can't even talk about this with anybody else? Certainly the easy way the girls are with other people's money must be infuriating for him, but they were raised differently, money has a different value to them; it isn't the thing in least supply for them. Those are perhaps down the road problems though, and I'm brought back to the fact that Dennis has more immediate physical needs, whether he realizes this or not…

"There is that as well, but I have to tell you that what we did together last time left me feeling like you got the short end of the stick, and maybe we should fix that."

"You didn't like it?"

"I loved it, I just didn't think it was fair for you. So, now I have to ask; what would be just the best thing ever, for you?"

"No judgments?"


"I, I like to do for people, we're actually more alike than you may realize. Soooooo… I want you to use me for your fun, and if I get something out of that, wonderful, but if not that's okay too."

"You didn't like it when my friends used you."

"You're not them, and I am asking."

…This is a million miles away from spanking my butt, binding me up, and taking his liberties, and also a million miles away from where I am personally; but he did ask. My intention was a gift for Dennis, but one I'd just love to give myself, so while I might have started with selfless intentions, there was an obvious element of self-servingness wrapped up in that too. I also needed him to take this gift from me so that I didn't feel quite so guilty for giving it; it was really all so confusing for me…

Dennis maybe assumes that my hesitation is my answer, that I don't want to "go there" even though he's asked very nicely, even though I might actually like to, if of course I only knew how. This is very far from being owned and sitting in the back of the car and selflessly serving my friends, and character wise I don't know that I can go all the way there, at least from where I am now metaphorically; at least in one single hop.

There is a further consideration at the verge of my reasoning; once Dennis has what he's looking for from me, will he still be interested and wanting of me? Dennis' history kind of shows that once he gets what he wants he moves on, as in "that job is done, on to the next." It might be a tradesman's frame of mind though, certainly one with three very different jobs, a simple way to compartmentalize one's thoughts and actions to keep from going insane. If this is so, there may be a lesson here for me, as I have several different jobs myself…

"Do you appreciate honesty?"

"Doesn't everybody?" Dennis replies.

"Not always. In any event, I'm ill equipped to do what I think you're looking for… today, but I can easily do what I'm looking for, and that's kind of the idea anyway; isn't it?"

"And what's that?" Dennis asks with both a serious sexy undertone and smile.

"Maybe I'd like to tease and torment you, lead you on with endless innuendo, but when the moment of truth comes; back out? How would that be for a little tease like me to do something like that to big strong you?"

"It's not quite what I had in mind, but I have to admit that it would make my blood boil. I'll tell you something else, since we're having such a nice conversation here; that belt on your wrists, and being gagged with your own panties was super hot and sexy for me, once I came to understand you were good with it." Dennis was almost breathless when he told me this, the heat and passion turned to ten in that little kitchen.

"Remember when we took our shower together?" I asked.



"Well I thought you were going to spank my butt back then" I confessed just as breathlessly.

"I so wanted to."

"I so wanted you to" I admitted, our faces only inches apart by this point.

A kiss, then a half a dozen or so more, and I had all I could do not to fall in love with this man. There was certainly a component of lust there as well, but this was more than just physical need, this man had told me a secret, and I had reciprocated, no judgements at all; how many people can you do that with in your entire life? It's a short list, for myself, just the girls and Dennis, and the girls had each other, and I had Dennis, at least for a time…


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