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Even that sounded cute coming from her. How is that even possible? I wanted to pat her on the head and say, “Ohhh good girl.”

“And don’t forget,” Marco added. “A pet can never ever come INSIDE the pussy of another pet. It’s forbidden. That special treat is one of the perks of being an owner.”

“Alright,” Lilly said, “Back to lesson eight. Using teeth during a blowjob. When to use them, how much to use, when to keep them the hell away…some men love them, some hate them, but all will come like never before if done right.”

The class lasted about four hours and in that class I did learn a few tricks of the trade. For example, when it comes to teeth, introducing them all at once as in straight up biting is strictly forbidden. One must slowly bring teeth play into it

, touching them slightly to the shaft of the cock while doing a slight sucking motion with the mouth, that way the man doesn’t realize right away what you’re doing. Pressure should be added until it’s clear the man is content but never uncomfortable. If the teeth are overpowering, you’ve failed.

Surprisingly, I was allowed to watch for most of the class. The most I had to do was give a hand job to Marco to let them know what they were working with. Needless to say, they were impressed and decided to skip the hand job class. I didn’t expect it to go over so well considering my hand wouldn’t fit all the way around Marco’s junk. Yes, in his case I could totally call it “junk.” It was too damn big to be called anything else. It was rather clunky junk.

It took all I had to not laugh out loud when during my stroking of this beast, I began to wonder whether it would be helpful or hindering during a swim meet. Would the enormous member act like a surfboard fin and help him glide along the water? Or would it be like a broken oar dangling along and slowing him down?

Later that day, after class, Bastian took me for a walk around the neighborhood. By that I mean we held hands and went for a lazy stroll. No leash involved. I wasn’t that kind of pet. I’d taken to donning sundresses, picked from the large selection in which Bastian had provided, while he looked fresh as ever, always in some sort of button down shirt and slacks. This day, he had a crisp, clean look going on. A light blue linen shirt and khaki colored shorts. Loafers with no socks. He always looked as if magazine model makeup and attire artists showed up each morning to make sure he looked his best.

He was the man I’d always dreamed of and yet, as I walked next to him, I kind of missed the clumsy, mismatched way most of my exes dressed. Sometimes a man doesn’t look fully a man unless he’s in a pair of jeans and some sort of graphic T-shirt. I feared I’d never see Bastian in a lazy state.

This must be what they mean when they say all girls secretly want a bad boy. Sometimes we want a man who doesn’t give a shit…that much. I mean he has to give a shit a little bit, right? Skipping the whole teeth brushing thing would be nasty and deodorant is a must. Trust me, I’ve been with co-stars who seemed to skip both.

“How does no one know about this place?” I asked.

“Well,” he started. “Pets aren’t allowed to leave and owners like the situation they’re in. They know better than to ruin it by giving our secrets away.”

Made sense.

“So we can’t leave? Like ever?” I asked.

“Would you want to?” he asked.

A flashback of our conversation in the shower reminded me that I should tread carefully when it came to the subject of leaving.

“Not permanently,” I said, “But what about family? Mine aren’t close, but what if I was close to my parents or my sister and they wanted to visit? What if I had a kid?”

“Where were you when I met you?” he asked.

“The hospital,” I said.

“And who did you have come visit you?” he asked.

“Nobody really. Just a friend.”

“One friend.”

“Yes.”

“How often did she visit you?”

“Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?” I asked, my frustration showing through more than I wanted it to.

“Sorry,” he said with a gentle squeeze of my hand. “Look…”

He stopped walking and turned me so we could face each other, with our hands together he pulled my body close to him. I had to look up to see his face and he moved our hands so they were at the small of my back, almost cuffed there, as he pushed his body against mine.

“I love you,” he said. “I’ve told you that already. But I had to be convinced you were right not only for me but for this community. I’ve liked a lot of women but I’ve never fallen for one as deeply as I did for you and definitely not as quickly. You hit me like a fucking freight train, barrelled right through my heart. But I couldn’t bring you here if you had connections. It’s not the way it works. All the pets here are lonely souls. They have nobody, or at least no one who would come asking questions. You have to understand how that could destroy everything we’ve built. Imagine the religious nuts standing outside with picket signs and newscasters shedding light on our ways and agents of some sort trying to infiltrate our community posing as neighbors to try and prove we were up to no good…”

“Are you up to no good?” I asked.

“We,” he said. “You’re one of us now. And no, we’re not up to no good. Everything we do serves a purpose and that purpose is keeping a calm, stress-free, safe lifestyle. If I wanted a pet who had kids, that wouldn’t work. If I wanted a pet who was so connected to her parents that they needed weekly visits, that wouldn’t work. I mean sure we could go visit our parents once or twice a year like anyone else, but they could never be invited through the gates. Can you imagine what they might think if they saw that?”

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