I thought I was alone... sprawled out on the sofa, Doxy buzzing between my legs, moaning like a needy little slut. But then he walked in—my flatmate. And I froze. Embarrassed. Exposed. Dripping. He didn't even flinch. Just smirked and told me pets don't play without permission. That's when he pulled out the gear: a ball gag, nipple clamps, a fat plug, and those cruel bondage mitts. Before I knew it, I was stripped and transformed—no longer the housemate, just his pathetic little toy. Gagged, clamped, plugged... and useless. I couldn't even touch myself. So I humped the cushions, grinding against the sofa like a filthy, broken thing—desperate to cum, and barely able to get there. And when I finally did... he clipped a leash to my collar, tugged me to my knees, and led me to the bedroom. Because pets who misbehave get used—again, and again. Now its time for my owners pleasure.