#owned pet

[rattedmutt]

"kiddo" "kid" "little boy" "baby boy" yesyesyesyyes infantilise me pljkeaseee

[mikesafag]

oh nooo i hope my owner doesn’t moan good boy into my mouth while making out that would just be horrrrribleeeee

[geenadomai]

[b1oodyb4th]

i secretly love when my bf forces me to clean his dick after he takes a piss ꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ

[fhear-mor-tpe]

Who wants to be a good pet and learn their place?

[cieloxceleste]

Favorite group sex experience is when people turn to my dom, instead of me, to ask for permission to do things to me. Even if that person is gonna dominate both of us, he’s still my owner so he gets to make the decisions for me. He gets to choose how people play with his puppy :)

[rattedmutt]

sub topping but my leash is being pulled because I can't keep up with the pace they want ><

going stupid and and sloppy bc owner sounds so good, getting a slap and a yank

'focus, pup'

[corruptedbyhim]

The leash goes on and you go away.

Not all of you. Your body stays. Kneeling on the floor, naked except for the collar, looking up at him with those big puppy dog eyes he loves so much. But the part of you that worries, that plans, that carries the weight of being a person with responsibilities and expectations and a never-ending list of things you’re failing at… that part just switches off.

Click goes the leash.

Gone goes the mind.

It took a while to train you. Months of him putting you under, whispering what the leash means, what happens when it attaches, what you become. But now it’s automatic. The second you feel that little tug at your collar, your thoughts start to melt and something simpler takes their place.

You don’t think in words anymore. Not when you’re like this. Words are for people, and we both know you’re not a person right now. You’re a pet. His pet. And pets don’t worry about deadlines or bills or whether they said the wrong thing at work. Pets just exist. Warm and eager and desperate to please their Master.

He runs his hand over your head and you push into it, hungry for touch. He scratches behind your ear and you make a sound that isn’t quite human, something between a whine and a sigh. Good. This is so good. Why would anyone want to be a person when you could be this instead?

"Good pup," he says, and your whole body lights up.

That’s all you need. Those two words. You’d do anything to hear them again. Fetch, roll over, beg, present yourself however he wants. The tasks don’t matter. The praise matters. The feeling of being useful, being owned, being exactly what he needs you to be.

He tugs the leash and you follow on all fours. Walking upright doesn’t suit you when the leash is snug around your neck. You pad along beside him, focused entirely on his hand, his voice, the subtle signals that tell you what he wants.

Later he’ll unclip the leash and count you back up and you’ll blink your way back into being someone with a name and a job and a life that feels heavier every time you return to it.

You’re starting to dread the counting.

You’re even starting to wonder what would happen if you just… didn’t wake back up.

He hasn’t noticed that change in you yet. Or maybe he has and he’s just waiting to see how far you’ll drift before he has to pull you back.

Either way, you hope he doesn’t pull too hard.

You’re so happy down here.

And It’d be nice to stay a little longer.