Chapter 6: The Invitation
The following days passed in a hazy, fragrant delirium for Clover. The memory of the circle—the heat, the pressure, the total sensory bombardment—played on a constant, quiet loop in her mind. She walked to class in a daze, the ghost of Kiki’s leopard-print ass imprinted on her retinas, the echo of Lulu’s giggles mixing with lecture hall acoustics. She was theirs now, and the knowledge was a warm, heavy stone in her belly.
It was a Thursday when the summoning came. A three-way group text from Bambi, all sparkle emojis and manic capitalization.
Bambi: GIRLS. MY PLACE. NOW. WE HAVE TO DISCUSS THE PUPPY SITUATION!!! 🐶💕🍑
Kiki: omw. got a whole new batch of greek yogurt churning back here.
Lulu: me tooooo. bean burrito for lunch was a BAD (good) idea lol.
Clover’s phone vibrated in her hand, her palms instantly slick. The ‘puppy situation’. She nearly tripped over her own feet racing home, her cardigan flapping behind her.
They were already in Bambi’s bedroom when she arrived, the door slightly ajar. The cloying scent of vanilla and ripe fruit was now layered with Kiki’s clove cigarette aura and Lulu’s cheap, candy-like body spray. Clover peeked in.
The three women were huddled on the edge of the massive, disheveled bed, a conspiratorial triangle of immense curves. Bambi was talking, her hands fluttering excitedly.
“…and it’s just not fair for me to keep her all to myself, you know? She’s, like, a natural resource. A community service.”
“A public utility,” Kiki drawled, taking a drag from a vape pen.
Lulu nodded vigorously, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “It was sooo fun the other night. My stomach felt amazing after.”
“Exactly!” Bambi clasped her hands together. “So I was thinking… we make it official.”
Clover’s breath hitched. Official.
Bambi turned, her doll-like face lighting up. “There she is! Come in, bestie. We’re talking about you!”
Clover shuffled into the room, the air thickening with every step. Three pairs of eyes fixed on her, sparkling with a mixture of affection and predatory glee. She felt microscopic.
“So, here’s the deal,” Bambi began, leaning forward. Her cleavage strained against her baby-blue tank top. “Kiki and Lulu loved book club. Like, loved it. And you were such a good girl.” She reached behind a satin pillow and produced a small, blush-pink box. “We got you a little something. To make it official.”
With a ceremonial flourish, Bambi opened the box. Inside, on a bed of white cotton, lay a collar. It was a slender band of pink leather, delicate-looking, with a small, sterling silver ring attached at the front. Next to it was a matching leash, coiled neatly.
“It’s so you’re always ours,” Lulu explained, as if clarifying a minor point.
“On call,” Kiki added, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Day or night. Whoever needs a little… relief… gets first dibs. No more scheduling. Just a text and a leash tug.”
Bambi picked up the collar, the leather looking impossibly small in her hand. “What do you say, Clover-puppy? Wanna be our full-time, shared ass pet?”
The question hung in the sweet, rotten air. Clover’s mind, usually a frantic whirlwind of anxiety and lust, went perfectly, utterly still. Then it flooded with a single, clear, radiant certainty. This was everything. This was purpose. She didn’t speak. Words were beyond her. She simply dropped to her knees on the plush carpet, her head bowing forward, offering her throat.
The women erupted in delighted coos. “Oh my god, she’s perfect,” Lulu squealed.
Bambi scooted to the edge of the bed, her mammoth ass spilling over the mattress. With gentle, almost reverent hands, she buckled the collar around Clover’s neck. It was snug, not tight. A constant, comforting pressure. The click of the buckle was the loudest sound Clover had ever heard.
“There,” Bambi whispered, patting her cheek. “Now you’re really ours.”
Kiki was next. She unhooked the leash from the box and clipped it to the silver ring. “Let’s try it out.” She gave an experimental tug.
Clover, on all fours now, shuffled forward instinctively, the movement feeling more natural than walking upright ever had.
“Look at her go!” Bambi clapped.
Kiki led her in a slow circle around the bedroom, her own hips swaying magnificently in tight black pants. “Good pet. Very obedient.” She stopped in front of Lulu. “Your turn.”
Lulu took the leash, her grin wide and vacant. “C’mere, puppy.” She pulled Clover closer, until her face was inches from the denim-clad expanse of Lulu’s lap. “Now, sit up and beg.”
Clover obeyed, raising her torso, her hands clasped under her chin, her eyes wide behind fogging glasses. The pose made the collar press against her Adam’s apple.
Lulu giggled, a sound like bubbling syrup. “So cute.” Then her expression shifted to one of soft focus. A deep, familiar gurgle emanated from her core. She didn’t move, didn’t bend over. She simply relaxed where she sat on the edge of the bed, and let out a wet, protracted brap that washed directly over Clover’s pleading face. It was warm and vegetal, thick with the promised burrito. Clover inhaled sharply, her tongue darting out to catch the taste.
“Okay, my turn to lead!” Bambi chirped, taking the leash from Lulu. “And I’ve been saving up.”
What followed was a leisurely, methodical breaking-in. They didn’t rush. This wasn’t the frantic orgy of book club. This was ownership. Bambi led Clover to the center of the room and sat on a wide, padded ottoman. “Here, puppy. Your first official duty.”
She guided Clover’s head into her lap, smothering her face in the soft, scented cotton of her skirt. Then she leaned back, her weight settling, and began to release a series of slow, deliberate braps. Each one was a humid, perfumed cloud that Clover drank in desperately, her nose pressed deep into the burning epicenter.
After a while, Bambi sighed contentedly. “Kiki, you’re up. I’m empty.”
Kiki took the leash, pulling Clover across the carpet to where she stood by the vanity. “Up,” she commanded. Clover got to her knees. Kiki turned, presenting her leopard-print backside. “Worship it. Properly.”
Clover nuzzled in, her tongue tracing seams and patterns through the thin fabric, feeling the incredible heat beneath. Kiki rewarded her with a sharp, staccato fart that was more vibration than sound, a fizzy, acidic emission that made Clover’s eyes water even as she smiled.
Lulu, feeling left out, came over and simply bent over next to Kiki, creating a dual-ass horizon. “Teamwork,” she giggled, and they both let loose simultaneously—a discordant, pungent duet that left Clover staggering back, gasp-laughing, her senses scrambled.
The afternoon melted into a warm, sticky blur. The leash changed hands. Clover was positioned, directed, and used. She was a living relief valve, a silent, eager receptacle for their shared, giggly discomfort. They fed her gas like treats, praising her with pats on the head and terms of hollow endearment. Her glasses were permanently fogged. Her world shrank to the pink leather around her neck, the tug of the leash, and the vast, rotating geography of the three asses she served.
As the sun began to set, painting the pastel room in oranges and pinks, they finally wore themselves out. They lay sprawled across the giant bed, a tangle of limbs and exhausted curves, their stomachs finally quiet. Clover, leash looped around Bambi’s wrist, curled on the floor at the bedside. She was spent, every muscle loose, her mind a blank, blissful slate.
Bambi drowsily stroked her hair. “See?” she murmured to her friends, her voice thick with sleep. “I told you. The best little pet.”
And Clover, nuzzling into the touch, the collar a perfect, permanent weight, knew she was home. The transaction was complete. She had given herself away, and in return, she had been given her entire, fragrant, breathtaking world.