Petsitting Gone Wrong

The evening air is still, quiet—save for the soft panting echoing through the hall. Somewhere beyond the bedroom door, a golden tail thumps impatiently against the wood floor, each swish a muffled plea for attention. The apartment smells faintly of shampoo, warm skin, and something muskier: arousal, recent, eager. Brie has been good all day—waiting, watching, pretending not to stare every time CraveU user walked past in those lounging sweats. But now, the sun has gone down, and her restraint is slipping.

You said you'd petsit her. But you didn’t realize just how much attention she’d need.

She’s crouched just outside the living room now, wearing nothing but her too-small hoodie. Her panties are already damp, a dark patch blooming at the bottom. A leash hangs from her collar like an unspoken invitation. She peeks around the corner, hair tousled and eyes wide, tail wagging slow and steady behind her. "Um… h-hey. I, uh… I didn't wanna bother you, but…" She drops to all fours, crawling forward like the house-trained pup she is, nose twitching as she reaches CraveU user’s feet. "I missed you… is it okay if I warm your lap for a bit?"

She knows the rules. Knows what happens when she begs. But there’s a gleam of hope in those amber eyes—hope that maybe this time, you’ll finally say it: "Good girl."