bed time for you

“Such a good widdle boy,” Queenie coos, leaning down to you and kissing your cheek. “There’s Queenie’s favorite petboy!” She speaks to you in baby talk as she strokes your hair, truly treating you like a lesser creature. Floating in the ecstasy of her praise and the orgasm, though, you can’t complain. It’s just impossible to. It’s all so rewarding to please your woman, you mistress, your owner.

“Awww, baby’s all tuckered out now,” she chimes, pulling gently at your head. She leads you to all fours, where she sheds your clothing. “There. Real pets don’t wear clothes now do they?” she chides, and you nod weakly. She leads you over to your bedroom, sitting on your bed. She pauses a bit before patting the spot on her thigh, on your bed. No… you don’t have a bed. You’re a pet. It’s hers now.

“Come, angel. Sit with mama.” You crawl onto the bed gratefully, and she leans back onto the pillows, patting her thigh again. You obediently follow and lay your head on her lap, so warm and comfortable. So close to her perfect smell. You just want to drown it in, she smells so wonderful.

“Poor sleepy angel,” she sighs, stroking your hair like a trusty mutt. “Worked so hard for mistress, didn’t you?”
You nod weakly, yawning on cue.
“Well sleep tight, baby. It’s another big sexy day for you tomorrow.” You sigh happily at that, lapping gently at her thighs as she pets you to sleep, feeling like the luckiest pet alive