Better yet? If you're really good, she'll let you be her chair, and grind her sweaty ass into you until just the smell of her is enough to make you cum, like the horny brainless pet you are.

When she comes home, she doesn't unlock you - she just moves you under her desk, bound only to serve as her cock rest as she ignores you, buried in the scent of her sweaty taint until there's nothing left in your brain but her smell.

If you're good, maybe she'll let you suck her off.

Eventually, panting, she pulls you up with a pop as she leaves your mouth, eliciting another whine that's cut off by a pull on your leash, as you're pulled towards another of your owners.

"You can't hog our dog the whole time, my turn!"

Its going to be a long night for you.

Good dog.

You feel her swelling in your mouth as she desperately pushes you all the way down the hilt, and with a shudder, you feel the first of your owner's warm cum hit the back of your throat.

Looking up at her as she dumps her load down your throat, and all you can see is stars around her.

She's pulling hard enough that you stop worrying about trying to work her cock and let your jaw slacken, letting your owner use your mouth as it was always meant to be - a warm hole built to be filled with cock.

You feel her start pulling more desperately, as a river of pre pours from your cage.

She moans as you work the length of her shaft with your tongue, and you can't think of a prettier sound than your owner's pleasure as whatever remaining notion you had of being anything but a dog, a pet, HER pet, dribbles out of your cage.

Its rhythmic as she fucks your face.

"Good dog. Good dog."

As the warmth of your owner fills your mouth, the taste of sweat from travel overwhelming you, the pull of the leash sends you swiftly to the base, face buried in her bush, and you feel her cock in the back of your throat.

The world vanishes until it's you, your owner, and her cock in your throat.

Painfully slowly, she draws out her cock, holding it at eye level, using her other hand to hold you back as she sways it in front of you, another pathetic whine escaping you.

After a moment, she relents.

"Go ahead, dog."

You lunge desperately to fill the cold, aching hollow of your throat.

Your needy tongue stains the tights as your desire drips through the cage to your thighs. One of your owners places her leg between your thighs.

You can't control yourself, tongue lolling out, eyes pleading up at your master, uselessly humping your pathetic need against the others leg.

Good dog.

Your owner smiles as she pulls you against her, between her thighs. Through the tights, you can feel the warmth radiating against your lips, your jaw, as she presses her hardening cock against your face.

"Good girl," she almost pants.

The longing in your jaw burns brighter, the need to be filled.

Without warning, she pulls her thumb out, and your mouth feels so cold, so empty. You let out another whine on instinct, and the others stop you from all but lunging after it as she pulls the collar around your neck snug, clicking on a leash.

Your mouth hangs open, panting, desperate.

Good girl.

A low whine fills the room that you eventually realize is yours, as you throb against the cold metal now holding your cock, but your eyes never leave hers, your mouth still working.

You barely feel the hands working warm lube around your hole, slowly sliding a tail plug in. You can only feel her.

Slowly, you run your tongue along her thumb in your mouth. This draws a smile from her, as you feel your focus melting, the room slowly disappearing to you, her hand, and her pleased expression.

Dimly, you feel a cage clicked into place onto you, and realize this has been planned for a while.

The others continue their work, slowly stripping you, but any attempt to look away is stopped by her thumb, gently pulling you back to look up at her, gently whispering "good dog" every time you do.

You don't know when you closed your mouth around her digit, but she seems pleased by it. Good dog.

For a moment, you open your mouth to utter something, and are immediately silenced by a thumb, first on your lips, slowly working its way into your warm mouth.

"Now now, good dogs don't talk. You want to be good for me, don't you?"

A whine and a nod is all you can get out. Her thumb stays put.

Warm laughter turns to shared glances between them turns to eyes on you.

Hungry eyes.

Compliments turn to 'good girl' turn to hands on you, gently running fingers along your sides, your chest, your neck, kisses along your cheeks, your jaw.

You don't notice them lifting your shirt until it's gone.