I don’t think it’s any secret that I’m a horny fuck. I complain a lot, but let’s be honest, I genuinely enjoy serving women. The dirtier, weirder, and more unexpected life gets, the more I seem to find myself smiling afterward. Apparently that’s just how my brain is wired.

One of the things my owner really enjoys is sharing me. She loves being on the receiving end of my attention, but she also gets a kick out of deciding that another woman deserves a little extra service too. Most of the time this is somebody she already knows, so I’ve gotten used to getting volunteered without much warning.

This time, though?

It was a complete stranger.

We were grocery shopping, and I wandered off for maybe ten minutes looking for whatever impossible ingredient she’d sent me to find. When I came back, she was standing in the aisle chatting with another woman like they’d been friends for years.

“Levi,” she said with a smile, “this is Shelly.”

Shelly smiled.

My owner smiled.

That should have been my warning.

Apparently, during the ten minutes I was comparing pasta sauces like a complete idiot, the two of them had managed to introduce themselves, discover they had a mutual interest in kink, exchange enough information to trust each other, and come up with a plan for the rest of my afternoon.

Meanwhile, I’d accomplished finding spaghetti.

My owner calmly informed me that after we checked out, I was going home with Shelly. First, I was going to help carry in and put away her groceries because, in her words, “a gentleman should always help.” After that, I was to continue serving however the two of them had already discussed.

Shelly just looked at me and asked, “That work for you?”

I looked at my owner.

She nodded.

So I shrugged and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Honestly, that’s become a recurring theme in my life. One minute I’m trying to remember whether we’re out of coffee, and the next I’m being reassigned like some kind of community service project.

The funniest part was how completely normal they both acted. They chatted about produce prices, compared recipes, and discussed the best brand of paper towels while casually deciding the rest of my afternoon. I wasn’t even the most interesting topic of conversation.

Sometimes I wonder if my owner sees me as a boyfriend.

Other times I suspect she sees me as an unusually useful kitchen appliance she occasionally loans to friends.

Either way, I still got all the groceries put away.