Janie's thong had been damp the whole time. It wasn't lost on me, kneeling beside her as we ate from pet bowls on the floor. I remembered that Marti forbade her from wearing clothes at home, much like Gwendolyn's rule for me. Except panties. They were a practical necessity. “I leak,” she had explained. “My pussy is always wet when I’m with my mistress. She doesn’t want me to ruin her furniture.” We two pets could only lis...