The kibble is dry and gritty on her tongue, a smear of dust and salt. She laps it up with wet, noisy strokes—shlurp, shlurp—her nose pressed to the cool tile. Behind her, she hears him tuck his cock away and zip up. The bell at her throat rings softly with each lick.
“Good,” he says. “Now crawl to the living room.”










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