I lay on the bed, relishing the touch of my mistress's hands as they stroked along my body. I looked into her smiling eyes, accepting her affection without reservation.
My name is Judy and I've been with her for two years, during which time the bond between has grown to what it is today. For a short time, I lived on the street, abandoned, before being taken in by the organisation that trained me to serve my mistress.
My devotion to her now knows no bounds and my life revolves around her happiness. She took me in, fed me, and afforded me a place of safety. I can expect no more.
I watched as she climbed out of bed and made her way into the shower. I waited patiently for her to finish before following her downstairs where she prepared breakfast for us both.
"How are you today, Judy?" she asked.
I gazed up lovingly, whereupon she ran her fingers through my hair.
"David is coming over tonight," she told me. "I hope you're going to be on your best behaviour."
I licked her hand, providing all the reassurance I could muster.
She fussed with her clothes, preparing to depart for work and leave me alone in the house. It was a routine that I'd adjusted to, and accepted without complaint.
I looked forward to the weekend, when we would spend time together. She'd allow me the freedom of her rear garden, the tall fences preventing my escape. Not that I'd ever consider attempting to leave her.
On dark nights, she would often walk with me down the quiet country lane outside her home, leading me by a thin leash attached to the sturdy collar that I wore permanently around my neck.
The day passed slowly and I ambled around the house, filling the time in whatever way I could until my mistress returned. I heard the distinct sound of her car engine, my heart beating in excitement at the prospect of her company.
During the past few months, I'd detected a shift in her affections. She abandoned me more and more to my own devices; I wondered what I'd done to warrant this change.
An unknown voice accompanied her as she fumbled her key in the lock of the front door. She entered, followed by a stranger, giggling as she responded to his charm.
The man looked down at me, naked but for my collar.
"This is Judy," my mistress informed him.
"She's lovely," he admitted.
"Would you like to stroke her?"
"No, not right now."
"I'll just start dinner," she replied acceptingly.
The visitor sat on the sofa and sneezed. Picking up the remote control, he flicked on the television, watching a summary of the day's events as my mistress worked efficiently in the kitchen.
She set the dining table, laying out her best tablecloth and arranging places for the two of them to eat. A delicately perfumed candle provided subtle illumination, sitting beside an open bottle of Burgundy that breathed prior to being consumed with dinner.
The smell and sound of sizzling steak wafted through the interconnecting doorway; my stomach rumbled having eaten nothing since earlier in the day.
"Can I do anything to help, Julia?" he asked.
"Sit down at the table and pour the wine. I'll bring everything through in a moment."
The newcomer sat at the table, the news program now replaced by romantic music that issued softly from wall mounted speakers.
"This is simply delicious," he praised as he washed down a forkful of the fillet in Bearnaise sauce with the expensive claret.
"I try my best," she simpered.
He reached across the table and placed his hand over that of my mistress. She seemed more than happy to accept the contact, eliciting feelings of jealousy within me.
.... There is more of this story ...