The club didn’t have an official directory, at least not one that they were willing to admit to, everyone’s privacy being of utmost concern, of course. Still, I knew most of the regulars and was owed a favor by quite a few.
I knew that asking them to help me find a pet to quarantine with me was going to be a bit of a tall order, though. I had very specific requirements for one, particularly because she was going to be staying in my house. Not least of which was the fact that I preferred my pets to be virgins.
The fact that I would be the first to pleasure them that way only added to their surrender. They let me do what no one else ever had and it was part of the thrill.
I made this clear in the messages I left, without going into too much detail. I just said that obviously I was looking for a virgin. It was okay if she’d had some exposure to BDSM. In fact, it was preferable, just so she wouldn’t be shocked and so that she would know how the power exchange was supposed to work.
It was best to be sure she would be into it first. Although I wanted her to have never been penetrated before. Oral was fine, but I wanted her cunt and asshole pristine.
Such a condition wasn’t as rare as it might sound. There was a whole set of masters, particularly at Club Lush, who never had sex with their pets, preferring their power exchange to be mostly chaste and about control and pain. As such, there should be a few virgins who had been exposed to the BDSM lifestyle to choose from for my purposes.
I tried to imagine it. Sharing my home and my life with a pet. Because that was how it would be.
I really wasn’t the type to treat her like a toy. Something to take out of the box when I got bored. If it was going to happen, I was going to do it right and have her live with me properly.
I’d even moved a smaller bed next to mine in the aptly named master bedroom. There was a kind of funny myth that being a master was being a bully. Giving orders and expecting obedience. It was really being a leader. Giving the pet or submissive reason to trust you and guiding her to a place where she is able to let go of control like she wants to.
There may not have been romance in my play, but there was a lot of trust. Whether it be implicit or earned. And perhaps the confines of an intimate home setting were the perfect place to learn to trust— even if it had taken a pandemic to make me think of it.
***
It was a couple days later when I hear from Mark. He was another regular at the club, who had joined around the same time I did. We weren’t quite friends, but we were certainly acquainted.
“Hey, man, sorry for the delay but I’ve been on the hunt. On the upside, I think I have someone for you. At least give her some consideration.”
“Go on,” I prompt.
“Her name is Celeste. She’s had experience in the scene but is still a virgin. I checked her myself— with gloves, of course.”
“Of course,” I agreed, knowing his preferences.
I hid it well but was actually rather taken aback. Mark used to go on at some mind-numbing length about how much he loved having Celeste as a pet. What he used to do to her. How he would manhandle her.
I would just smile and nod while furiously resisting the urge to punch him. I wasn’t really one to judge and if that was what they liked to do, then fine. Even though it wasn’t my thing at all. As long as they were both into it.
That was really what irked me deep down, though.
I wasn’t sure she was into it.
I had never suspected Mark of abusing his pets. If I had, I would have reported him immediately to the owners and had him blacklisted. I didn’t think what he described rose to that level.
Although even if I sometimes wondered if I should have suspicions, I knew that I couldn’t prove anything even if I did. So, I kept quiet.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Oh, it just didn’t work out. She’s great but I need someone more experienced if it’s going to last,” Mark said, sounding nothing but lame.
I knew there had to be another reason but decide not to press the issue.
“How old is she?” I asked, knowing his proclivity for younger women.
“Twenty-one. Looks younger, though.”
“Of course,” I teased, while letting out a sigh of relief.
I had nothing against eighteen- or nineteen-year olds on principle. As long as they were legal, I was game. But there was just something about being with them that made me feel like a dirty old man.