A Dog

Your party of 16 features 10 women and 6 men. The women outnumber the men almost two-to-one, so it's not surprising that they dominate the conversation. You can barely get a word in edgewise. Most of the women seem open-minded about this strange vacation, whereas the other guys seemed apprehensive at best. After a lot of shouting, arguing and complaining, the roles are eventually worked out. Perhaps unsurprisingly, almost everyone wants to be a master and many of the women wanted to be horses. What was more surprising was that two of the guys volunteered to be cats. In the end there was: one male and one female bunny, one male and one female cat, one male horse with a female master and one female horse with a female master, and one female dog with a female master. You were the only male dog with a female master.
Your master is Erica, the receptionist to one of the senior partners, Charlie Greenfield. Erica is fairly young, in her mid-twenties, with shoulder-length auburn hair and brown eyes. Her nose is slightly too long for her face and her eyes are a little close together, giving her what most people agree is a slightly peculiar-looking appearance. Still, you found her to be quite pretty, by no means a stunner, but overall you consider yourself quite lucky. She approaches you now, tugging absently on one end of her silk scarf.
"Hey Trent." She says awkwardly. "I'm not sure about this whole thing, but I guess we'll be getting to know each other really well over the next week. Let's both really throw ourselves into this, who knows, we might end up liking it." She turns then and walks over to the reception desk to register the pair of you. The lady at the front counter hands her something, they have a short exchange, then Erica makes her way back over to you, this time holding a dog collar. The collar looks fairly plain, which eases your apprehension, you were worried you'd have to wear a big clunky metal thing with lots of spikes, but it's just a plain brown band with a decorative bone pattern.

"Get on your knees so I can put this collar on you." Erica says. "Down, boy." She adds, smirking cheekily, looking pleased at remembering to phrase the command properly." You comply, and she slips the collar around your neck and does up the strap just tight enough for you to be aware you're wearing a collar, but no so tight as to restrict your breathing.
"Now, one final thing before we make our way up to our room, you need a nice 'doggy' name. No offence, but 'Trent' isn't a great dog name. What should I call you?" She affects a thinking pose, but you're sure she's already chosen a name. "Hmmm, I think I'll go nice and classic. I'll just call you Buddy. Now, come on Buddy, let's get up to our room. She deftly attaches a leash to your collar and sets off, with you on all fours, keeping pace.

As the elevator doors close, shielding the lobby from view, you have just one thought going through your brain. How in the world did it come to this?