Starting today, I will be living with my owner. I don’t know if I’m excited, anxious, scared, or happy. From what I had seen, Mara was kind, affectionate, perhaps a bit assertive, but it was to be expected from an owner.
Her house was much bigger than my apartment: it looked like it had two floors, probably around ten rooms. When I arrived, she welcomed me in a cute summer dress, wearing huge round sunglasses. We hugged like we were two old friends, she invited me in and proposed me a tour.
“This is the first floor, this is where all my stuff is.”
She showed me her living room, decorated with bookshelves, minimalist wall art, and lit by soft yellow lights. She showed me into her office, which was by far the biggest room on the first floor: she had her computer, installed on a desk and surrounded by multiple screens. There was also a camera, mounted and pointed at a red couch. There seemed to be some storage in the back, probably for some filming equipment.
As I left her office, I pointed to the other two doors she had skipped, “What about these rooms?” I asked.
She lowered my hand, shaking her head. “On the left is my bedroom, I’d prefer if you did not… snoop around in there. And the right is my bathroom. I’m very not into sharing my shower, so you’ll have your own bathroom too on your floor. Don’t worry, it might not be amazing but it’s alright!”
I wasn’t sure I heard right. “Wait, my own floor?” She excitedly nodded and brought me up the stairs.
“Yes, your own floor!” As soon as we stepped onto the second floor, she presented it to me with her arm. “Look, that’s all yours!”
And here we are; I’m standing in what is going to be my home for the next six months. I can’t feel it through my slippers, but the lilac carpet seems very soft. There is also a desk and, most visibly, the only entertainment I see around is workout equipment. I think I get the message.
She notices I’m looking over there and she feels the need to explain. “Ah, yes! You can use those if you want to stretch those legs,” she taps on the running mat, but after turning to me with a smile she sees I don’t look too enthusiastic. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to use it! It’s just that, as your owner, I want you to stay healthy, you know?”
I nod. I’m not a big fan of working out, I have terrible cardio and even worse muscles. The only reason I look slim is because of what might just be a black hole at the bottom of my stomach. Speaking of snacks, I spot a small fridge, which excites me a lot more than the cardio machines. I walk to it and crack it open, only to discover two sad metal bottles of water.
“This is your fridge! There’s a water dispenser inside so you can refill your bottles at any time. You get only two, try not to lose them.”
“What if I get hungry?” I remark, not thinking how ungrateful it sounds.
“You won’t be hungry; I’ll make sure of that.” She looks around, making sure she didn’t miss anything. She remembers the two doors at the back. “Oh, and the door on the right I use as storage, there’s nothing interesting in there, mostly some old boxes and extra equipment, it’s better if you don’t mess with it, I wouldn’t want you to accidentally damage some of the equipment, it’s very valuable.”
She looks at me as if I was a child, but all I can do is nod quietly.
“And that other door is the bathroom I told you about, it’s all yours. You don’t need to clean anything, I’ll take care of that, but please avoid being messy up here. You’re not allowed to eat anything here, and if you’re dirty or sweaty you should take a shower, you can take as many as you want, just dry yourself properly. We wouldn’t want the carpet and the couch all wet, would we? Oh, speaking of cleaning...” She grabs a garbage bag from one of the drawers. “Please take a shower and put your clothes in there, I’ll go get you some new ones.”
“Oh, now?”
“Yes please!”
I take the garbage bag and head towards the bathroom. Despite her downplaying it earlier, a step into it and it’s a lot bigger than I thought. It has a separate bath and shower, a sink with a large mirror, and, of course, a toilet. I take off my clothes and, begrudgingly put them in the garbage bag. While I didn’t peculiarly find them pretty, they’re the only things I carried from my house. It’s with bitterness that I threw them in the garbage bag, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.
I jump into the shower, select a shampoo out of three different options and I start scrubbing away. The shower head was soft and felt a lot more “deluxe” than any shower I had experienced in the past. I come out of the shower, dry off my body with a towel that is I feel is too soft, and as I’m rubbing it into my short brown hairs, I realize that I don’t have any clothes to come out with.
“Mara! Can you give me my clothes, please?” I shout through the bathroom door.
“Just come out, I’ll give them to you!” Realizing, she adds, “Don’t worry, I won’t mind!”
I mind, but I suppose that doesn’t matter. Since my situation is supposed to be sexual, maybe I should just listen to her, I’ll have to get used to it anyway. I come out the door, timidly, my two hands covering my genitals. She doesn’t seem bothered, holding in her hands one of the many outfits presented by Moxie Fashion I’ll have to wear as the pet of their brand ambassador. As I grab the clothes one by one from her hands, she talks me through them, requesting my comments.
“How’re the boxers, are they comfortable?”
“They’re—” I’m trying to put them on, attempting to minimize the gap between me taking my hands off my genitals and me hiding them back under the underwear. “They’re comfortable,” I say, even though they’re not special by any means, what else am I supposed to say?
“Great! Here—” she gives me a long-sleeved striped shirt and a pair of tight jeans. The outfit is finished with two solid white socks. On me, I can feel instantly how much better quality the fabric is, I feel like I’m wearing a blanket.
“It really feels great, thank you. It’s very nice clothes!”
“I know!” She inspects me, smiles, “And it fits you perfectly!”
She gets a step closer to me and opens her palm into my chest, feeling the fabric against my body. Her hand then slides up to my shoulders, bringing me into her arms. She rubs her face against the side of mine, slowly passing her fingers through the back of my head. For a moment she’s looking at my hair, thinking, but she doesn’t say anything.
I’m not sure what she is doing or what I’m supposed to do, but eventually, she lets go, turns around, and takes out a thick collar from her bag to quickly attach it around my neck. It feels heavy and the texture is almost like leather. She takes a step back and smiles, she seems to enjoy the look. I grab the little tag attached to the collar; on it, there’s Mara’s name, what seems to be a small hole, probably a camera, and behind it, there’s a code, that I suspect can be scanned if I get lost. There’s one problem, though.
“Why does it say "Max"?”
“That’s you!” she cheers, “That’s your name, Max!” She’s excited as if she was revealing to me some amazing news.
“No, it’s not, my name is Charlie,” for an instant I’m willing to assume it’s a mistake.
She laughs, “Don’t be silly, Max! You’re my pet now, and Mara and Max just have a nicer ring to it.”
I’m suddenly reminded of my situation, and it’s all it takes for me to accept it. It could be worse, even though I’m still bummed about it. It feels…wrong to be renamed, it makes me feel like an object. I suppose that’s what I am now, that’s probably why I’m being paid.
She seems to notice I’m slightly uncomfortable because she takes my hand and takes me to the couch. She lays in it, inviting me to rest on top of her. She doesn’t say a thing, but her smile is enough of a command. I listen and slowly embark on the couch; she takes me into her arms, and I put my head on her shoulder. She tightens her hold, and suddenly it feels right again. She might not be much bigger than me but, pressed into her body, I almost feel safe. She smells sickeningly sweet, like caramel, and her fingers caressing my head are gentle, it makes my body tingle, it’s bringing me to sleep.
She whispers in my ear, “I love you, Max. Do you love me?”
“Yes…” I mutter.
“Who do you love the most?”
“You…”
“Do you love anyone else?” I don’t answer, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the question itself or because I’m about to fall asleep. She seems to assume it’s the latter, “No you don’t, Max. You love only me,” she kisses me on the head, and for a couple of seconds, that’s all there is to it, until “Aww! Don’t move Max, you’re so cute!”
I open my eyes and look up, and I see she’s holding up her phone. “No, Max, I said don’t move!” she scorns. I quickly move back into position as she takes the picture. A moment later I discreetly open an eye and see that she’s typing on her phone. She’s posting the picture, captioned with a comment about her getting a new pet. I didn’t think I’d be into it, but the thought of her being excited to have me around does make me feel great.
For half an hour we don’t move, she keeps caressing my head in between texts. She scrolls through her feeds, responds to messages, sends some. I like to have my head on her chest, feeling my head heave with her breathing.
Eventually, she leaves me on the couch, and I decide to take a nap. It’s peaceful, suddenly all my fears about being a pet vanish: I know what I’m sacrificing, my freedom, my identity, my integrity, but all of these things are stuff I didn’t have much of anyway. The nap is amazing, and the best part is when I’m woken up, with Mara shaking me, gently calling me, the late glows of the sunset announcing the end of the day.
She brings me to the kitchen where I eat with her. I don’t really catch what she’s eating, but she made my salad in a bowl. I’m thinking my evening is going to be similar to what we were doing pre-nap, cuddling on the couch, but after dinner, she brings me to her office. The lights are off.
“What are we doing?”
“Sit on the couch.”
I follow her command, and she sits on a chair in front of me. She opens a spot, casting a bring red light over me. She turns on the camera while typing some things on her computer on the side.
“Are we… are we making a video?”
“Uh-uh,” she doesn’t look at me, she’s setting something up. “Are you hard?”
I’m taking by surprise by her question but, after checking, “N-no.”
“Hm,” she looks at me pensively and nonchalantly removes her turtleneck. It reveals her small, pale body, with her breasts contained by a red brassiere. I can’t look away.
She slowly walks towards me, but no part of her is smiling, she’s serious, cold. She sits next to me and starts kissing the side of my head, licking, biting. Her hand is stroking my lap. I try to turn my head towards her but she keeps turning my head back, telling me not to move. It’s hard not to reply so I try to take my arm to her body, hold her, but she puts it back down, more aggressively each time. She takes off my shirt and continues her process, I can feel her bra rubbing against my arm. I try to stay immobile, until she takes a finger to my crotch, pressing it in to confirm its current state. I’m hard, very much hard.
“Good,” she tells herself before leaving the couch. She returns to the camera and presses a button. She looks at me sternly. “We’re live. Take your dick out.”
I’m hesitating but I follow her command. I unzip my pants and slightly pull my underwear down, from which my hard cock springs out. I keep looking at the camera and back at her, and then at her screen. I can see the stream, my stiff body basking in a red light, with a clear look of fear on my face.
“Stroke it,” she orders
“I don’t—”
“Do it.”
She doesn’t seem to want to hear anything from me. I look back at the screen: it’s too small but I can see people connecting to the stream, sending reactions, increasing in number every second. How many followers did Mara have? How many people were—
“Max. You’re not being good right now, do what I say.”
I feel like if I wait long enough if I look distressed enough maybe I can make her change her mind, but the way she looks at me, disappointed, it’s terrible. I look down at my crotch, I’m still hard. Maybe this isn’t so bad, maybe I’ll get used to it. I finally find the courage to put a hand to my erection and start stroking; I start slowly, awkwardly, making it seem as if I never jerked off before. I’ve never done anything like this before and exhibitionism was never something I ever pictured myself doing, but what am I supposed to do, ask her to stop the stream? Say my safe word and, on day one, call the whole thing off?
Mara isn’t even looking in my direction; part of me wishes she’d get off on this, but she doesn’t seem interested in me, she’s staring down her phone, as if waiting for me to finish so she can wrap it up. I look back at the camera and stare into its cold, mechanical eye. I try to imagine a thousand pairs of eyes looking at me at the same time. Maybe it’ll help…
It doesn’t.
I turn my face back to the computer screen, and I see a delayed stream of myself. I look so uncomfortable, confused—scared. What is the audience thinking? It’s too far away for me to read the comments, but what if they hate it? What if they don’t find me good enough? Will Mara cancel the adoption? Will she hate me?
I really wish I could just turn off whatever part of my brain was panicking and pretend I’m into it, but I can’t. In a last attempt to find something to save me I look back at Mara, still uninterested in me or the stream. Is this why she adopted me? Was it just for content? How could she be so loving earlier and so cold now, that’s not what she told me would happen.
It doesn’t matter now, does it? All I have to do is ejaculate as soon as I can so we can finish the stream, end this terrible thing. I decide to lay back on the couch, put my head against the wall and close my eyes. If I can just think of something to speed this up; I try to think of another reason why I’m doing this, try to forget about the audience, pretend there’s something else, another reason.
Mara. I’m doing this for Mara, and as much as I hate her now… I want to do this for her, because if I do it well maybe she’ll notice me, maybe she’ll care about me. I try to picture her in my head, her red hairs, her two grey eyes, her hips, her thighs. I try to remember how she touched me before, maybe she’ll touch me again, maybe she’ll kiss me as she did. I imagine her kissing my neck, my shoulders, my chest. Her soft fingers making their way to my crotch.
I’m stroking faster, the camera is out of my mind, and I finally seem like I’m enjoying it. I look back to Mara. I’m staring at her body, ripping her clothes off in my head. I stare at her lips, small, pink, lush. I imagine kissing them, them kissing me. Her breasts, I try to imagine how they look like, what they taste like, what they feel like. A third point, her hands, I try to think of them caressing me, I try to pretend hers are stroking my dick instead of mine. I put these three factors in a multitude of combinations, I vary the sequence and I try to imagine her moaning, calling my name.
While my right hand is rapidly stroking my cock, my left is clenching at the couch beneath me. I’m panting heavily, my eyes fixed on Mara. This isn’t the first time I masturbate but at this moment, my heart is racing and I have difficulty to breathe makes it feel like it is, like I’ve never truly masturbated before. I feel the climax approaching, I pull my head back, close my eyes, and brace for impact. In my last moments, I try to create the perfect impression of Mara in my mind right before I feel the pressure leave my body, and as I explode, I can’t help myself from muttering;
“Mara!”
It’s almost a whisper, leaving my clenched mouth, but I see her perk her head towards me as I ejaculate. I can’t dare to look at her, but I know she is smiling. I did exactly what she wanted.
Mara quickly ends the stream, giggling, and she excitedly hurries on the couch, a tissue in hand. She puts a hand on my shoulder and puts the other through my hair.
“Max, you were amazing! Were you thinking about me?” As she asks me, she holds my genitals with a hand to wipe the cum off with the tissue in her other.
“I was,” I say. Even though I really did, I would have told her I had even if I didn’t, and part of me doesn’t want to accept that it is true, I don’t want her to win, so I try to convince myself that I am lying to her.
“It’s so cute, Max, how much you love me, they loved it too, look!” She shows me her phone, she scrolls through the chat, which seems to still be reacting to my little show. I don’t have time to read much, but I’m able to catch a few.
“DID HE SAY HER NAME?? That’s like, so cute!”
“He loves Mara so much HE’S SO CUTE”
“Um, Mara?? How did you get him? I want one??”
“My pet would never… yours is so well behaved.”
“You better put that boy on auction when you’re done with him… I want him.”
The comments seem to never end, but they’re all gushing over me, telling me how much they love me to Mara. I feel ashamed that I’m getting a sense of pride, I hate the fact I don’t hate it. “You even came on the paper, you did so well!” She says, looking on the floor to make sure I didn’t shoot too far. “You’ve been so good, Max… I knew you’d be perfect for me, I’m so glad my fans love you too.”
She gets up and goes to close her computer, I don’t know what she wants me to do so I stay here. When she reaches the door, she looks back to me, “I’m going to sleep, you should too, I don’t want you downstairs at night.”
“Wait, what? I thought— can’t I just sleep with you?”
“Aw, Max, I can’t have you in my bed, I told you my bedroom was off-limits to my pets, you understand, right?
She speaks to me as she would to a child, it’s embarrassing. I humiliated myself in front of thousands of viewers and I can’t even spend the night with her.
“Can’t we go on the couch like earlier then? Just for a couple of minutes, before we—“
“Max, no. I’m tired, if you don’t want to sleep I don’t care, but you have to go upstairs.”
There was no point in arguing further, especially since it’s incredibly infuriating to hear her call me Max and address me like an animal. I watch her pick up the paper I stained and put them in a trash can before she holds the door, gesturing for me to leave. I see myself out the door and up the stairs, leaving Mara behind.
One entire floor just for me, I should be happy. Why should I care about Mara? I live here for free and all I have to do is masturbate in front of a camera, right? That’s easy, I don’t even care about her, I’m just doing this for the cash anyway.
I remove my shirt, pants, and socks and I jump on my couch. I’m not even tired but it’s not like there’s anything else I can do here anyway. It might look nicer than the residence I was living in, but aside from the decorations and size, it’s practically the same, no screens or games, just an empty room with a couch, it’s just that now there’s a nice carpet down, and workout equipment I’m never using.
I’m a bit bitter about how my first day went, and now I know a lot better what kind of treatment to expect from being a pet, although it’s probably going to get even worse. All I have to do is approach it with the right mindset, remember that this is more of a job than an actual relationship after all. Mara is just my employer, when you think about it, and I don’t even have to like her, I don’t care.
I go to sleep trying to clear my head, telling myself that I have all that I need here and that I am perfectly content with what I am doing right now, but as much as I try to convince myself that all of this is true, the thought of Mara lingers in my head until I fall asleep.
