Becoming a Pet: An Innocent Start

Becoming a Pet: An Innocent Start

Note: This story is dedicated to Jamie who requested this perverse tale. Jamie you are one naughty deviant.
Note 2: And thanks to Estragon for his dedicated copy editing.



Becoming a Pet: An Innocent Start

Ever look back on your life and try to pinpoint exactly when your life changed? It is almost never anything dramatic, but usually a decision that is out of character with what you thought your values and personality were. Almost always you make a choice that forever alters who you are…for me that day happened only a week ago.

I was working as a receptionist at a dentist’s office when my life changed dramatically. I would like to say it happened overnight, but I had always had lingering doubts about my sexuality. I mean I liked men…actually I loved men, but I often had vivid dreams of being with girls. The older I got the more intense the dreams, and my subconscious began to wonder what it would be like to be with a girl. Yet society’s expectations held me back, as did my conservative upbringing. Also, my circle of friends and my live-in boyfriend limited the possibility exponentially. But life has a funny way of just throwing you in a whirlwind gaining speed and spinning your life into one full force tornado…which brings me to how I became a lesbian submissive.

*****

At twenty-three, my life was as typical as most. I lived with a man I loved and assumed I would one day marry, I had a great group of friends who had similar interests as me ,and I had a decent job I liked with a great boss. All that said, I nevertheless had an empty spot inside me I just could never quite put my finger on. My boyfriend was a good lover, yet sexually I craved more. Like men do, I used the Internet to try and fulfill my repressed sexual desires. Watching porn didn’t do much for me, although I did begin to realize I liked the harder porn, where a man or woman dominated some submissive girl. I began fantasizing Dave treating me like a slut, but I knew it wasn’t his nature. I became the submissive girl in my fantasies that began with Dave, but slowly shifted to being predominantly lesbian fantasies. Searching the net one night I came across Literotica, a massive erotica story site. I read many stories, became a member, and began searching using key words: submissive, lesbian, domination. Each story got me off as I role-played in my head being the submissive girl who is slowly seduced into a wonderful web of sin and submission. I tried to hint to Dave of my sexual needs and kinks, but he was clueless, as men usually are. All these desires, fantasies and obsessions came to a blunt head a week ago.

It was a normal busy day like so many others, when she walked in. She was a chubby black woman with one of the prettiest faces I had ever seen. I immediately wondered how attractive she would be if she wasn’t overweight.

She sauntered to my desk, her walk oozing a confidence I rarely saw in a woman. “Hi beautiful, I have a 4:30 appointment. My name is Rosie, Big Rosie.”

I blushed at her compliment. Her smile screamed mischief. Her outfit screamed confidence, considering her size. Her blouse, with two buttons undone, barely held in her massive breasts; it also showcased her immense cleavage which left little to the imagination, although my imagination was already playing tricks on my straightness. Her black skirt was as short as today’s provocative teenagers wear,and her four-inch pumps were three inches higher than I ever wore.

Pulling myself out of my distracted state, I responded, “Welcome Rosie, Dr. Statesmen is a bit behind. Please take a seat.”

“I can wait,” she shrugged. Her eyes never left mine, “So what is your name?”

“Jamie,” I responded, oddly nervous and anxious around this pretty black woman.

“Nice to meet you, Jamie,” she politely greeted, taking my hand in hers. Unlike men who had kissed my hand in these moments, she put her other hand on top of mine and gently caressed my hand. The contrast between my white-as-snow skin and her black as night skin was oddly intoxicating.

I stammered, distracted by the touch and attention I was receiving, “N-n-nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“Call me Rosie,” she smiled, still holding my hand.

“Nice to meet you Rosie,” I replied.

“Oh,” she purred, her voice so soft and sweet, “the pleasure is all mine.”

I was completely embarrassed at the attention she was giving me, and her tone dripped with implication. An undeniable tingle began to stir down below as all those naughty stories of being a submissive suddenly popped in my head; I briefly day-dreamed of this full-figured black woman seducing me and making me her sub. I just as quickly came back to reality as she asked, gesturing to a picture of Dave on my desk, “Is that your boyfriend?”

Suddenly wishing that picture wasn’t there, I admitted, “Yes.”

Not letting go off my hand, but instead allowing her fingers to gently trace imaginary figures on my hand, “Pity, the way you were checking me out, I thought you might play on my team.”

Suddenly self-conscious at how I was acting, I defended myself, “I was not checking you out.”

“You sure?” she teased, leaning forward a bit so her generous cleavage was directly in my face.

I stammered, desperately attempting to keep my dignity in this awkward conversation and yet not offend her, “W-w-well you are hard not to notice.”

Her smile broadened, “If you got it, flaunt it, I say. You think my tits are amazing, you should see my cunt; it is to die for.”

Her shocking word choice sent a chill down my spine. Trying to resist my growing desire, I asked, “Can I get you a coffee, juice or water?”

Her response confused me, even though her seductive tone was clear as day, “Oh, don’t you have anything else?”

“Like what?” I asked, my naive innocence on full display.

She grabbed a candy cane, usually there for our children patient, from my desk and unwrapped it slowly, her dark eyes boring into me. I felt she could see through me, could see my naughty fantasies no one else knew about. She smiled, pulling me in like a magnet, her dominant deviancy pulling me in like a fish unable to struggle.

She went and sat down, her eyes never leaving mine. Once seated, she opened her legs wide enough that I learned she was going commando, as I could see her pink puffy lips. I stared like a horny school boy would the first time he was at a strip club. Never breaking eye contact with me, she shoved the purple candy cane inside her vagina.

I gasped, but was unable to look away no matter how much I knew I should.

She pumped it in and out of her vagina a few times before standing up, walking to my desk and then behind it.

She ordered, her tone clearly implying this wasn’t a request, “Stand up,”

Nervous, yet curious, and completely unaware of her devious intentions, I obeyed.

“Good girl,” she commented, like my mother used to do when I was young. I blushed; slightly embarrassed by the tingle I was feeling down below, at being called a good girl. I briefly contemplated how this was like so many stories on Literotica I had pleasured myself to. The smiling black woman asked, “Are you wearing pantyhose?”

‘What an odd question’ I thought to myself. Actually this whole conversation was odd. My cheeks went even redder as I answered, suddenly embarrassed by my odd fetish, “I hate pantyhose. I am wearing thigh-highs.”

“Mmmmmmmmm,” she purred, her hand on my arm, ever so delicately, sending an uncontrollable chill up my spine, “you are going to make a good pet.”

“Pardon?” I muttered, completely rattled by her last comment and her hand still on my arm.

Ignoring my confusion, she placed the pussy-scented candy cane to my lips. I automatically opened my mouth and tasted her sticky sweetness. Again she complimented me, “Good girl, Jamie.”

She grabbed for a second candy cane and after discarding of the wrapper slid the candy cane under my skirt, startling me. I was frozen in a perfect blend of shock, denial and excitement. I watched, feeling almost out of body, oblivious to the reality that I was being seduced at my work. In my head I attempted to stop her, but the thoughts never translated into words. Instead, I felt her pull my panties to the side and I let out a gasp when she inserted the candy cane inside my wet pussy.

Her gaze kept mine, and when I attempted to look away, she ordered, “Look at me, my pet.”

I obeyed, looking into her dark chocolate eyes.