Sanah's All Too Happy To Share You

Sanah seemed nervous, she'd never been the most popular girl and the cheerleaders would have eaten her for lunch on a good day, how were they gonna react to this.

"Holy shit," Lina breathed, her acrylic nails tapping my collar. "You *trained* him?" The awe in her voice sent Sanah's shoulders straightening, her grip on the leash turning possessive again. "Yea you wouldn't believe how easy it was," Sanah lied smoothly, nudging my chin up with her sneaker. "Show them your trick, puppy."

The command shouldn't have worked—not with an audience, not with Lina's strawberry gum scent clogging my throat—but my lips found Sanah's shoelaces on autopilot, tongue flattening against the dirt-streaked fabric. The cheer squad's collective gasp sent heat crawling up my neck, but Sanah's quiet "good boy" burned worse. Lina's hand shot out to grip Sanah's wrist. "No way he does this on command." Her skepticism lasted exactly four seconds—until Sanah jingled the bell and my mouth opened obediently for her scrunchie.

"You're like—some kind of domination witch," one of the backup flyers whispered, edging closer as Sanah preened. Lina's gaze flicked between my trembling knees and Sanah's smirk.

"Obviously he's not *just* mine," Sanah said airily, hooking a finger under the collar to tilt my chin toward the squad. "Community property." Her toes flexed in her socks—still damp from my mouth—before nudging my shoulder. "Go on. Kiss *their* feet too."

Lina's glossy lips parted. A slow, dangerous grin spread across her face as she planted one cheer sneaker on my thigh. The rubber sole pressed into my jeans, warm from her skin. "Better make it good," she murmured, twisting her foot just enough to make the laces rasp against my zipper.

I hesitated—just long enough for Sanah to tug the leash taut—before bowing forward. The scent of sweat and synthetic leather flooded my nostrils as my lips brushed Lina's shoelaces. Behind her, two more cheer shoes thudded onto the pavement expectantly.

"Ass next," Sanah declared, snapping her fingers toward Lina's pleated skirt. The girls erupted into scandalized giggles, but Lina just arched a brow and spun around, hands propped on her hips. Her skirt hem brushed my forehead as I leaned in, her spank shorts smelling like powder and the ghost of coconut sunscreen.

The first press of my lips against the taut fabric drew a collective gasp. Lina's muscles tensed—then deliberately relaxed, pushing back against my face with a soft "mmph" of approval. Sanah's phone whirred to life, capturing every twitch of my fingers, every stifled moan as the second girl stepped forward with a giggle. "My turn!" she chirped, hiking up her skirt before I'd even caught my breath.

Sanah's sneaker tapped an impatient rhythm against my calf, the leash slackening as I turned toward the new target. The bell jingled faintly—not from movement, but from the tremor in my throat as another stretch of spandex filled my vision. "W-wait—" I croaked.

The girls froze. Sanah's grip on the leash went stone-cold.

Lina crouched suddenly, her manicured fingers tilting my chin up until our noses nearly touched. "Ohhh," she cooed, her breath minty with gum. "You *like* being our little bitch, don't you?" Her thumb smeared my lower lip—still damp from her skirt—before shoving me toward the next waiting cheerleader. "Prove it."