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He smiles at me indulgently. “Yes, Little pet.” He bends over and kisses my forehead. “I really need to do something with your hair,” he teases. “I’ll admit, though, it’s so pretty, I hate to pull it back. I love the way the long curls hang all around you like a red cape.”

“It’s gotten tangled in the marn’s tiny claws a few times.”

Daddy chuckles. “Ouch.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Not yet. When a rescue comes in that’s so young, we usually let the owners name their pets when they adopt them.”

My heart sinks. Someone is going to adopt this sweet animal. I didn’t think of that. This is a shelter. Someone will adopt all these pets I see in the kennels. Not Trobu or Chinz. They are Daddy’s personal pets.

But the tiny marn… I never want to let her go.

The day goes by fast. There’s so much going on. The men work with all these animals, and I get to watch from my soft bed. Daddy doesn’t make me give up the marn, and the two shorgs never leave my side. I feed the little furball two more times. She has to eat often.

Eventually, Daddy comes to me and says, “I have a meeting with some investors this afternoon, Little pet. You need a nap. I want you to go into your kennel and rest while I’m occupied.”

I almost whine, but I manage to stop myself. I hate that kennel. I thought maybe he wouldn’t make me go into it again. I’ve been so good in my bed. I haven’t complained once.

I’ve stayed here all day, eating and taking my bottles. Daddy has changed me twice without making me let go of the marn. But now he’s asking me to do something I loathe.

I purse my lips and lower my head. “Okay, Daddy.”

He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts. “I won’t always explain myself to you, Little pet. I expect you to know every decision I make has a reason. In this case, I don’t want my guests ogling you like you’re some sort of spectacle. You’ll be more concealed from their prying eyes in the kennel. Plus, you really do need a nap. I even put a soft pad in the kennel so it will be more comfortable.”

I swallow and decide to ask one question. It might anger him, but I don’t think so. “Can the marn go with me?”

Daddy smiles. “Sure, Little pet. I’ll let you curl up with the marn. She can nap with you.”

This makes me happy. My time in the cage will be less lonely if I can take the furball with me.

Daddy detaches me from the ceiling and the floor. He lifts the marn and Juju gently out of my arms and picks up the leash still attached to my chest. “Come.”

I crawl across the floor alongside Daddy, nervous. It’s no secret I don’t like this arrangement. I could almost ignore my predicament while I was sitting on the soft pet bed with three animals to entertain me, but crawling across the room with my harness, diaper, and heavy, exposed breasts is demeaning.

I don’t look to see if the other men are watching. I don’t want to know.

My heart is racing as I reluctantly crawl into the small prison cell. That’s what it is. A jail. It’s not a place for humans. At least Daddy put thick padding in the bottom. He also added a soft blanket.

As he bends down to hand me the two marns—one living and one stuffed—Chinz dashes into the small space to join me.

Trobu sticks his nose inside, too.

Daddy chuckles. I love the sound of his laughter. He tugs Trobu back a few inches. “Okay, big guy. You can’t go inside. It will be too cramped.”

Chinz curls up next to me as if declaring there’s no way he’s leaving.

“Are you okay having both of them in there with you, Little pet?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I’m glad they’re in here and grateful he’s allowing it. This takes some of the sting out of the fact that I abhor this cage. The animals will distract me.

Daddy attaches my leash to an eye hook in the floor outside the kennel.

My heart races. I feel trapped, and I am. I’m owned. The man who bought me is caring in many ways, but I’m still a possession who needs to be locked up while Daddy entertains his guests.

Daddy reaches through the open gate and cups one of my breasts, thumbing it gently until I squirm and arch into his palm. Darn him.

He hesitates, glancing around my cage. “Go pee-pee in your diaper, Rava,” he orders.