If you asked me a year ago if I was into pet play I would have laughed at you. Absolutely not, no way am I a pet, it’s just not my thing at all!
That said I do have a fluffy butt plug tail but that was more to match our beloved cat and see her reaction. It turns out she wasn’t impressed, who could have predicted that! And I do have a collar and leash but that’s because I love being pushed and pulled into position, I’ve never seen that as something related to pet play.
But you aren’t going to catch me in little cat ears or paws. I’m not going to be curled up at someone’s feet, not least because I’m not a foot fan so I like to keep away from them!
But then my filthy mind betrays me, I don’t want to be a cute pet. What I really want is the objectification and debasement of not being treated as a human. I want to feel the flush of shame burning my cheeks as my limits are pushed as hard as my buttons.
Whilst the thoughts have been rattling around in my brain for many years, I didn’t think I could share them with any one else. I thought I’d be laughed at which is the wrong kind of humiliation.
But last year I found my brave and voiced my thoughts. Soon after that I was on my knees squealing with delight. And those squeals very soon turned to giggles and wiggles. Then very soon after that the laughter became so hard I couldn’t breath and ended up having to safeword, who knew that was a thing?!
I’m not entirely sure if this counts as being a pet. But who can resist a cute little piggy?