Himari and Ichika Make Me Their Pet

Author's note: includes scenes of non-consensual slavery.

Himari and Ichika Make Me Their Pet

"And so there it is, boy, you have an hour to make your choice - if you can call it a choice," said Himari.

"He will always know he had a choice, my love," said her partner Ichika, "regardless of whether he makes the right one or the wrong one..."

"That he will. Well, boy, we'll leave you in this room - locked in, of course, and if you choose correctly, well, you know what to do."

Himari's shapely bottom wobbled under her white dress as she exited the room, and I watched her curvy hips go with some longing to plant my face between her buttocks and go to town. I had offered to do just that and more, in exchange for the surveillance photos that curvy Himari and her willowy girlfriend Ichika had taken of me. They had declined: there was one deal on the table, they said.

I'd known about the country's drug laws and been stupid enough to snort something in the fetish club anyway - unknown to me, Himari's full mistress garb included a hidden camera that had captured my exploits, and she had me bang to rights with evidence that could see me in jail for years in her country.

We had played around in the club and she'd taken a shine to what she called my 'wide innocent eyes' and 'cute little butt', and when she'd suggested we swap numbers I'd jumped at the chance. She was more than 20 years older than me - 44 to my 22 - but she was as natural and beautiful a mistress as I had ever met, and her partner Ichika was a bombshell too.

They had summoned me to their home and sprung their trap. The photos could go to the police - and they were on a dead man's switch on a server somewhere in case I got any violent ideas - or I could live with them for four weeks, a break from my round the world trip to stay firmly in one place for that time. Firmly in whatever place they put me, in fact.

Ichika had sat in her lover's lap and made it very clear: they just loved owning white European boys like me as pets. I could spend years in jail, most likely, or I could spend 28 days being their full-time puppy, a slave on all-fours with his hands locked in mitts, banned from making any sounds except a bark and a whine, on pain of another week on my sentence for each mistake.

They had taken my phone, and the little bedroom I was in had a barred window. No escape except past them. Could I break through the locked door, rush out and grab one of them, threaten the other to make them take off the dead man's switch and withdraw the photos? Would they have thought of that? What if they were armed? How would I be sure when they said they'd done it that I wouldn't be picked up on my way to the airport - I could try tying them up afterwards, I thought, but then if they reported that I'd surely be extradited back, and it'd be my word against theirs.

No. I was trapped and I knew it. Their way was not without its attractions - when I'd met them at the club, they'd played with me all evening and we'd done an hour with me on all-fours, crawling leashed behind them, me thinking I was safe in an environment that strictly banned all cameras and phones. I had gotten rock hard being their pet, and thought at the time I would cherish the memory - now it seemed I was to make a lot more.

With trembling hands I did what they had told me to do. First I wrote down the passwords to my phone and my bank account - not all that much in it - and the login details for my email addresses. They were going to take control of my feeds and post some rubbish in my name, showing me travelling about the country with lots of pictures they said they had for just such a purpose. Truth told, no one back home was paying much attention to my trip anyway, so I doubted anyone would notice. I wrote them down the address of my hotel and the room number, so one of them could go get my stuff before my stay was up, and then I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

Next I had to sign a 'contract' that said I agreed wholeheartedly to be their 24/7 puppy slave for a period of at least 28 days, more if they wished, and I felt my cock stirring at the thought of it as I signed my name and breathed slowly out. I could not be said to be legally theirs, but they would hold the contract as some proof that I had consented, to present to anyone in the scene who asked, and they would hold the photos forever as an insurance policy. I thought there might be some statute of expiry on the drugs charge after which I could report them, but by then, how would I prove anything? I would be dismissed as some fantasist or worse.

The final thing I had to do was strip and place my clothes in a metal box they had provided - absolutely all of my clothes. I fumbled with my belt for a while then slipped it off, and it landed in the box with a clang. Next came my shirt, which I unbuttoned carefully and folded up neatly, then my socks which I tossed into the box. That just left my trousers and my underwear.

Was I really going to do this, I asked myself. Was it worth it? Was the alternative something I could survive, with the right lawyer, the right consular help? Maybe I'd just get a fine and be deported... Or maybe I'd end up in the kind of jail where I really, really did not want to be. As opposed to the kind of jail that instinctively felt like it might turn out to be at the very least quite stimulating. I doubted I'd ever have done a month-long scene with these women, but a day or two would not have been out of the question.

So I put my fingers inside the band of my trousers and then hooked my underwear, and I stood and shimmied out of them, then folded them all up and placed them inside the box. My heart was beating fast and I felt a trickle of sweat on my brow, but I took a deep breath and then I closed the lid of the box, looped in the open padlock and clicked it shut. I had no way to break it open, and resolved at that moment to commit.

I dropped to my knees and barked as loud as I could, then I settled onto my knees, put my fists on the floor, and waited.

Ichika came in first, carefully opening the door and peering down at me, then approaching me bearing two red leather mitts in her hand. I saw through the door that Himari was standing some distance off, with what looked like a cattle prod in her hand, and was watching me intently. Ichika approached and motioned at me to raise my hands, and I did so. Her gaze flicked to my exposed cock and she licked her lips, but then her attention returned to petting me up.

The willowy domme pushed a mitt onto my right hand - I was right-handed - then she had me wiggle my fingers inside it while Himari watched me with murder in her eyes, in case I turned on them. Ichika wiggled the mitt around and I felt it settle into place around my hand, then she closed a buckle on the strap that made it encircle my wrist tightly. From a pocket, she produced a padlock and locked that to the strap, then she pulled on the mitt to check I could not get it off - I could tell straightaway that it was sturdy as hell, probably reinforced with metal in the straps.

She did my second hand straight after, and I shuddered as I lost control of that too. I sensed something change in me as the mitt went on, and when the lock clicked shut I suddenly felt like shouting and screaming, letting out my frustration and my horniness all at once. Ichika giggled at the sight of me, and I noticed that my cock had got semi-hard - she flicked it and it responded to her.

Still Himari stayed at some distance, ready to react if I somehow tried to fight back now I was locked into mitts. I don't know what she thought I could do, but to me it seemed impossible now to attack anyone. Unless I bit, I thought. Ichika took care of that next: she had me accept a muzzle, which she buckled speedily around my face then locked on with more little padlocks.

Now I thought the both of them relaxed a little. Ichika went into one of the little bedroom's drawers and produced a red harness, which she first buckled around my chest as she moved me around on all-fours. I felt a frisson of energy rush through me as she buckled straps over my shoulders, then I got seriously turned on and shaky as she sent two straps between my legs, which when attached to the other side of the harness felt like they held my butt cheeks apart a little.

Ichika nuzzled my head and stroked my face, then she went to the drawer and got out a red collar to match the mitts and harness. She bent down and kissed my face, next to the muzzle, then she buckled the collar onto my neck and padlocked that shut too. By that time I was wearing perhaps eight padlocks in different places, and my cock responded to the click of each as it shut, which made Ichika smile lustily.

Himari said something to Ichika in Japanese and the two of them laughed. I realised I had about as much understanding of their language as a dog might, perhaps less given how few words I knew - what even was the Japanese for 'sit' or 'stay', I thought - and so the women could talk about me, discuss me, plot and scheme, and I would be none the wiser.

To finish off my costume, Ichika buckled red leather cuffs to me - first two on my wrists, then two on my ankles, and padlocked those shut as well. She produced from the drawer four thick metal cords coated in transparent red plastic, then she padlocked one cord each to my wrists, and made them meet on a stout D-ring that was part of my collar. While I figured that out, she did the same with my ankles, locking those cords to the base of my harness.

She leashed me then said 'ta da!' to her partner, who dropped the cattle prod and approached. I stayed kneeling on the floor, and I looked up to watch as my two new owners kissed and fondled each other while Ichika held my long leash on one of her slender wrists. My cock danced and I blushed to realise I truly enjoyed seeing my leash on Ichika's wrist, just as I enjoyed the knowledge that with all the cords binding my limbs, I could not even stand.

By and by, my owners stopped kissing, and Ichika handed the leash to Himari. Ichika picked up the piece of paper where I had written down all my details, then she went back into the main room of their home and got my phone and my wallet, and checked to see that my hotel keycard was in there. She waved goodbye to her partner and blew me a kiss with a laugh, then walked out of the house and left me with Himari.

My buxom owner took me straight to the bathroom and had me kneel up on the cold tile floor. She shook out a towel and placed it down on the cold surface, then she had me shuffle onto it, and then busied herself. I watched as she got clippers out of a bathroom cabinet, then a razor and shaving foam, and I readied myself for the humbling I thought was about to occur. She was in control, I was not, and if she decided to shave any part of me, that was her call - to avoid another week on my sentence, I knew I'd have to kneel there and take it.

Himari grinned as she set the bare clippers going. She took hold of my collar and held my head steady, then she pushed the clippers across my scalp in long lines, and I watched my brown hair fall to the floor in clumps. My owner kept going, and my scalp soon felt every waft of air when she moved, until finally it was bare of every strand of hair it had once held: I was completely bald save a layer of stubble, which Himari then removed with long strokes of a wet razor.

I had had no real attachment to my hair, but it was a big change in look and would take a long time to grow back. Still, I was not the boss, and I enjoyed the feeling of Himari's firm hands on my skin, her strong grip on my collar, the way she moved me decisively but with a little slow start that let me go along with what she wanted me to do: she was a great tactile communicator, and I seemed to respond to everything she did.

After my head, Himari shaved my legs. I had never seen them smooth before, and they almost glowed with health when she was done. I felt the air running across them, little currents that my hairs would have blocked before, and then Himari did the same to my chest and even my armpits. I was clean shaven on my face, so she did not have to move the muzzle, but after half an hour I had become quite hairless.

Not hairless enough for Himari, however. She had me kneel on all-fours, then she coated my bottom with shaving foam. I yelped as the razor scraped away at an unfamiliar area, and Himari surprised me by stopping and stroking my flank until I was calm again. She removed the rest of my hair back there with a few more deft strokes of the razor - it was obvious she had done this before, then she had me sit up for the inevitable final shave.

They wanted a hairless puppy - I thought - so Himari bent down and buzzed my pubes down to stubble. She tenderly shaved the underside of my shaft and my balls, then she started to very carefully take away little bits of the hair that had been above my dick, the last remaining hair on my whole body.

A shape began to hove into view from Himari's deft hand movements with the razor. As she shaved, re-aimed, shaved some more, and inched her way forward, a little loveheart of pubic hair stubble was left behind above my dick, one little symbol made from my last little bit of hair. As Himari had bared my body, I had grown harder still, but the little loveheart made my erection go away, and left me flaccid and feeling a little strange.

If Himari noticed, she did not let on. She pushed me into a corner of the bathroom, closed a shower curtain, then turned the spray of water on. Mercifully, she let it warm up before she hit me with it - Himari was very careful not to let any get inside the mitts, but otherwise she sprayed my whole body until I was completely clean, then she gave me my erection back by drying me with a towel.

Some minutes later. Himari was sat on a couch in the little house's sitting room, and I lay on the floor on some cushions, a long leash connecting me to her. She had placed a laptop on the floor and then queued up a video for me to watch, then as soon as she hit play she had pointed to it and said "watch", in English, having not spoken any words I knew for at least an hour. I did as I was told.

"Greetings, brother," said the video in a warm male voice, "please watch the following training video carefully. You are likely to watch this video many times, but you will be tested after the first, and your owners are unlikely to grant mercy for inattentiveness. You sit, kneel or lay now as a naked, collared puppy slave to two dominant women, one of many in a long line enslaved by the divine Ichika and Himari.

"Your puppy name and tag will join a long line, visible to you on your owners' bedroom wall when they grant you access. Your owners believe in the absolute superiority of the female, but they love both male and female beings. You will be loved by them as you live in their home, and you will return that love by following orders faithfully and well.

"Puppies like us are simple beings and cannot be expected to learn complex words or to follow complex orders. You will be spoken to in English for the following command words: sit, stay, go, beg, roll over, play dead, fetch, lie down, cage, bark, whine, whimper, display, eat, lick, fuck, hump, yes, and no. This comprises your vocabulary for the period of your slavery. Do not attempt to act on any Japanese words you may recognise, as these words are not for you. You are a puppy and do not understand them.

"By now you are quite helpless, possibly muzzled, in a harness and mitts, and can pose almost no physical danger to your owners. Do not bite, ever, and do not express anger, ever, or like me you may find multiple extra weeks being added to your sentence. In short, be a good boy. Pay attention to the following demonstrations of each command word, and attempt to commit them to memory."

For the next hour and a half, the video slowly wound its way through lots of puppy positions. Each one was demonstrated with a video of a middle-aged puppy slave in a bright blue harness, and still images of a range of puppy slaves, all ages and sizes, who were all pictured in what was clearly Ichika and Himari's home. There were dozens, and I realised with a mix of horror and being impressed that I really was just the latest in a dazzlingly long line of conquests.

The video really emphasised that I was expected to be a slow learner. I saw sit demonstrated from half a dozen different angles, and all it appeared to require was to sit on the balls of my feet, put my bottom on my heels, open my legs slightly, and put my mitts on my knees. I watched for anything else the videos and images were trying to convey, but nothing jumped out.

Roll over was more involved and seemed to centre on making sure my legs parted as my back rolled over the ground, and I came back up into sit position, only to do the roll again and again. A circular hand motion indicated roll in a circle, side to side hands meant roll that way, then the other, then back again.

Cage meant go to your cage and get in, except I didn't know where that was and hadn't realised I would have a cage. God, these women were serious. Ichika came in partway through and she had my backpack and other luggage with her: she locked it all away in the house's attic, where I could never reach it bound on all-fours, then she joined Himari on the sofa and started to read a book as well.

Lie down meant specifically lie on my side, not my front or my back, and it appeared I was allowed to curl up so that my cock was not on display. That gave me a little relief, that just maybe I was not to be exposed the whole time of my enslavement, and that perhaps there could be one or two moments of privacy for me.

No such luck with display. That command was the polar opposite: I was to rise to my knees, open my legs wide, thrust my hips forward and put my mitts up next to my chest, then loll out my tongue and open my eyes wide. Finally, in display posture I was to waggle my dick around to draw the eye to it, and I was to keep doing this until commanded to take another position. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek as I thought about that, but at least once I'd done it the first time, I thought, it might not be as bad.

Eat was for food, fuck was for humans, hump was for anything from a leg to a cushion to a sexdoll. The eat command included a lot of instructions about how to eat from a bowl, and some emphasis that no matter where food was, what food was, or what state food was in, if the eat command was given, eating had to be done.

By the end of the video I realised I really was in for it. The male voice came back on. "You exist now in a space between the human and the animal. No real dog could be treated in the way you will be treated, but no real dog could provide the kind of services you can provide for your owners. You will eat when told to, go to the bathroom and use the specially adapted facilities - a high-tech bidet - when told to, you will lick when told to and stay when told to, you will bark and beg and whine when told to.

"You are now a pet-slave, a human puppy, a collared and leashed plaything who exists for your owners' amusement. Himari and Ichika are merciful to those who obey without question, without thought, without hesitation. They will not show mercy to any bad puppies in their ownership, and so you are advised not to be one. You are now given an order on behalf of your owners: face them and display. Good boy."

The video ended and I realised I needed to act. I got hold of control of my limbs as best I could, then I rose up from the lie down position and promptly fell over as one of the cords stopped me from going further as it was tangled around my foot. Ichika giggled at me, and I shuffled my foot around until the cord was loose, then I rose again.