The Neighbors' Pet Slut Ch. 01

When people see us, I know what's on their minds. I know because a few brave souls have come right out and asked me. What is a fit, slender, beautiful girl doing with someone who is at least twenty years her senior? Sometimes I tell them the truth. Other times, I just say, "the heart wants what the heart wants."

What am I talked about? I am talking about how being my neighbors' pet slut. Yes. I belong to Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. I am their pet. I am their slut. I am theirs. Yes. Both of them. How you ask? Well, let me tell you.

The first week of summer break of my freshman year at college, when I was home from school, my parents went on a second honeymoon to Europe for a few months. They wanted to hit several countries. Since I wasn't a big partier, they trusted me with their house.

Mrs. Reynolds is a plump woman, short with bleached blond hair and dark roots. I would say, at this time, She's in her mid-forties. I think my mom asked her to check in on me. So, I guess, you could say, she is to blame for my descent into depravity. Anyway, I digress.

I'm an athletic type. My legs are kind of thick and muscular. My stomach is flat and my breasts, well they aren't all that big. Sometimes, I can go without a bra because they are so firm, you know? So, one day, I'm in the backyard doing some yoga, when Mrs. Reynolds comes by.

"Oh Jenny honey, good you're home." She said as she came into the yard.

I was in the downward facing dog position. I groaned not wanting to interrupt my routine, but my mother always told me never to be rude. So I righted myself and plastered on a smile. "Hi, Mrs. Reynolds. Everything okay?" I reached up and tightened my brown pony-tail.

"Yes. Everything's fine hon. I was just wondering." She stepped closer to me. She sort of invaded my personal space. It felt awkward. "You do all that stretching stuff. Is that yoga?" She waved her hand at the mat I used.

I nodded. "Yeah." I tilted my head. "Have you ever done it before?" I asked with empathy in my voice.

Mrs. Reynolds smiled. "With an ass like this, you think I do yoga?" She snickered. "But I'm interested in it. Would you mind if I watched you a little bit? If it doesn't look that hard, maybe I could try it."

My mother had instilled a politeness into me that left me with a crippling inability to say no. So, I agreed and went through several poses for Mrs. Reynolds to watch. Each time I changed a pose and explained it, she would nod. She even complimented me on how flexible I was.

Each compliment spurred me to try a different, harder, pose. I got a really good work out with Mrs. Reynolds watching. It became a routine. Mrs. Reynolds started to come by each day and watched me do yoga. Each time she provided me with positive feedback for each pose. I grew to enjoy it really.

About two weeks into this, Mrs. Reynolds wasn't so positive. "You know Jenny," She said one day standing over me while I was doing a bridge move. "You got a lot higher yesterday." She frowned at me.

My insides twisted. I really wanted to impress Mrs. Reynolds. Something inside me urged me to lift my tired body up higher. She placed her hand on my spine and pushed up. "There you go." She praised. It washed over me, and I smiled.

She did this a few more times. Not every pose at first. It started as maybe every five poses. But as the days wore on, Mrs. Reynolds had more to say. She soon touched me during every pose and criticized my form. She pushed me harder. Mind you; the woman never did a pose in her life. Yet, I took to heart everything she said. I wanted to be perfect. I wanted her approval.

"I think its working." She said one day after a particularly hard work out where she had me hold poses longer than ever before.

I dripped with sweat. "What's working?" I asked perplexed as I drank some water.

She stepped closer and ran her hand down my arms. "You're getting more toned."

I shivered at her touch. At this point, it had become common and not all that weird. I thought nothing of it.

The next day she touched me again after the work out. She chose my thigh and pointed out how tight it was. The day after that it was my butt. She lingered. She squeezed, and I have to admit, it felt good. I was young. I didn't see a lot of action.

"I think its time for a swim. Don't you?" She suggested with a bright smile.

"Yeah," I said. It was a particularly hot day. "You got a suit?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I just like to watch you."

I probably should have thought twice about it when she followed me into the house. I didn't. I should have really thought something was up when she followed me upstairs. I didn't. In my defense, Mrs. Reynolds had been around so much, I had gotten used to her just being there when I did things. It wasn't until she was in my room with me that alarm bells went off.

"Uh, Mrs. Reynolds." I looked at her curiously.

She just smiled brightly at me and went to my dresser. "Yes?" She opened the top drawer and sifted through my panties as if this was something she did every day.

"What are you doing?" I stepped closer to her my cheeks flamed in embarrassment.

"I'm getting you a swimsuit of course." She said nonchalantly.

I reddened when she pulled out a pair of my panties. They were black and lacy. She giggled. I reached for them mortified.

She pulled them away. "Oh don't be shy. It's just us girls." She tossed them back inside.

She closed my panty drawer and went to my nightstand. "No!" I yelled.

Too late; Mrs. Reynolds had it open and found my stash. Everyone knows the nightstand is a sacred domain. It's private. Not to Mrs. Reynolds. From that day forth, I would have nothing private from Mrs. Reynolds.

My cheeks blazed bright red as she pulled out my toys. I should admit here that I had limited sexual experience but, for as long as I could remember, leaned toward some darker fantasies. Or well, dark for a 19-year-old with one previous sexual partner. I would learn later my fantasies were downright vanilla compared to now.

Mrs. Reynolds pulled out a set of handcuffs and my bullet vibrator. She looked at me blank faced.

I froze. I didn't know what to do. It only got worse when she pulled out my bondage magazine. I stood mute. I shied my eyes away as if it pained me to look at the items.

"You keep this kind of stuff in your mother's house?" She accused.

The way she said it made it sound so, so, dirty.

I swallowed. I couldn't respond. What was I going to say? No? No, I don't keep porn, a vibrator, and handcuffs at my mother's house? She had them right there.

Because I was looking away and pretty lost in my own head, I didn't notice that she stepped toward me. I did hear the clicks though. And when my head snapped back, she had handcuffed one of my hands and reached for the other.

Mrs. Reynolds spun me around, and before I could react, she had my hands cuffed behind my back. "What-what-what are you doing?" I tried to pull away, but she had a hold of the cuffs.

"Oh come on now Jenny." Her voice dropped an octave and went to an authoritative tone. It caused me to freeze.

"Mrs. Reynolds?" My voice shook.

"What kind of girl keeps handcuffs and a vibrator at her mother's house?" Mrs. Reynolds chastised. "And that magazine!" she clucked her tongue. I could see her shaking her head at me.

She had the disapproving tone she used so many times before when she corrected my form. It was that tone that pushed me to stretch further, push harder, and to please her. It now only pushed me deeper into shame.

"I just-"

"Shut up." She spat out, and I did. "I'll tell you what kind. A slutty kind. Tell me, Jenny. Are you a slut?"

"No." I whimpered. My face was beat red with shame. My body, however, my body thrummed with arousal which confused me because, until that point in time, I thought I was straight.

Mrs. Reynolds tugged at the cuffs causing my back to arch. She knew I was flexible, so she held me there. I tried my best to remain balanced. She looked down at me. "Do you want me to tell your mom about this?" She asked. "Your mom is such a good Christian woman. She is at church almost every day praying for you. Is this why? Does she know you're a deviant?"

"What?" My eyes went wide with that comment. "No! I'm not."

Mrs. Reynolds covered my mouth. "Shhhh." She pulled me down a bit more by the cuffs, and my body arched painfully. "I won't tell her all about her deviant and depraved daughter if you show me how you play with this stuff."

Her voice was wicked. It dripped with sensuality. I was in shock. I was aroused. She clearly saw that as my nipples pushed into my sports bra.

She peeled her hand from my mouth. "What do you say, Jenny? Will you show me how slutty and nasty you are like you showed me yoga?"

I really didn't want my mom to find out about my stuff. My mom was devout. She would disown me if she knew I wasn't a virgin anymore. I couldn't imagine what she would do if she knew I was drawn to kink. "Yes, Mrs. Reynolds." I conceded.

Mrs. Reynolds released me and uncuffed me. I rubbed my wrists and eyed the red marks. It was nothing that would last too long.

I stood awkwardly for a moment unsure what to do next. Mrs. Reynolds took a seat in my desk chair. She held the cuffs and the vibrator, but I felt her green eyes on me. It sent my stomach into knots.

"Well?" She said.

I couldn't look at her. It was too much. "I don't know what you want me to do," I admitted.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Come here." She waved a hand at me.

I stepped closer to her. I stood inches from her. Her head was just below my small breasts.

"First of all," she began. "You're a slut. You have too many clothes on for a slut. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds." I blushed. I didn't agree I was a slut but it seemed like the only appropriate response.

"I like that." She said as she reached for my sports bra. She stood up and tugged it over my head. I didn't fight her. "From now on, everything I tell you, you will respond with 'Mrs. Reynolds' at the end. Is that understood?"

My breasts, though small, still had a little bounce to them once freed from the tight sports bra. Mrs. Reynolds eyed them with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds," I responded. My stomach flipped as I covered my exposed breasts.

She batted my hands away. "Well that's silly isn't it? You're a slut." She admonished me. "You're going to masturbate in front of me, and you think hiding your itty bitty titties is going to award you some sort of dignity? Sluts don't have dignity. You will learn."

I blushed so hard it felt like my cheeks were on fire. I lowered my arms to my sides.

Mrs. Reynolds sat back down. "That is so much better. So much sluttier. I am pleased." She announced.

For some reason, that thrilled me. It thrilled me in a sense I never would have imagined. Her praise called to my submissive side that was beyond eager to get out.

However, I stood before her topless, unmoving.

"Well." She said again.

"I don't know what to do," I admitted. "Mrs. Reynolds," I added after that. It felt so silly. I had no idea what she wanted from me. She had spent the last few days or even weeks telling me positions to get into. I had to admit, I got accustomed to following her orders.

She sighed again. "Okay, slut. How about I tell you what to do okay?"

"Yes. Mrs. Reynolds." The embarrassment had my body anxious for some sort of stimulation. My arousal around my embarrassment confused me to no end.

"Don't worry." She smiled as she sat back a little bit. "I will train you to be a good proper slut Jenny. Start by touching yourself."

At first, I wanted to object. I wanted to tell her I wasn't a slut. However, when my mouth opened an objection didn't come out. "Yes, Mrs. Reynolds." I had just gotten so used to obeying her.

Slowly, my right hand came up to my right breast. I cupped it and squeezed it slightly. I looked at the floor and tried to imagine my ex-boyfriend, Tyler, doing it, so I closed my eyes. I palmed my breast for a few seconds and tried to forget she was in the room.

"No no no." She interrupted my thoughts, and I stopped.

She stood up and grabbed my hand pushing it away from my breast. I gaped at her.

"You're doing it all wrong slut." She said, and I wanted to just die standing there.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Reynolds." I had no idea why that fell out of my mouth. How could I be doing it wrong? I was supposed to be -

Oh! Mrs. Reynolds cupped both my breasts, one in each hand. She pressed her fingers together squeezing them slightly. Then she brought her thumb to rub against my nipples. I let out a soft moan to my surprise.

"That's it slut. See." She pressed a bit harder on my nipples. "That's better right?"

"Yes. Mrs. Reynolds." I admitted. It did. It really did.

At this point, she had called me slut so many times in such a short period of time, I guess I dismissed it. I didn't have the gut reaction to it. I mean, I had a reaction; it made me wet, and her playing with my breasts only made me shiver with need.

Mrs. Reynolds pulled her hand away and took each nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinched. I let out a squeak and lifted up onto my toes as she pressed harder. She smiled evilly. "So responsive, slut." She commented which only pushed me deeper into a submissive headspace.

"Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds." Again, it fell out.

She pulled my nipples, and I whined. She released them for just a second before she went back to rubbing them with the tips of her fingers. Mrs. Reynolds was intent on my face. She gripped my nipples again tighter this time, and I winced. "Look at me in the eye slut."

I did as she ordered. I grit my teeth. I whimpered as the pain shot straight to my clit.

"You like this slut?" She asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Tell me slut."

"I like this Mrs. Reynolds." Oh, the shame of this. I admitted I liked my neighbor fondling me. And I did like it! I was warm all over. I liked when my older neighbor called me slut and touched my breasts. What kind of sicko was I?

She smiled and lightened the pinching on my nipples. However, she kept her fingers there. She playfully rolled them, and I let out another moan of pleasure. I held her gaze though it was really hard.

"I like it too Jenny." It felt wrong when she used my name then. Had I gotten accustomed to her little nickname for me already? "I like small breasted sluts. They tend to be more sensitive."

"Mmmmm." I closed my eyes and rocked into her touch. It felt so good to be touched by expert hands. Tyler's hands never made me feel that good.

Mrs. Reynolds liked girls? That shocked me. It made no sense. She was married. I licked my bottom lip when she tightened the pinch on my nipples again. I lifted up on my toes once more.

"Your little nipples would look so pretty with clover clamps on them slut." She commented. "Do you have clover clamps?"

Clover clamps? What were clover clamps? "No Mrs. Reynolds."

"Pity." She frowned. "Are you wet slut?" She asked me suddenly.

My eyes opened wide. "What?" I asked straining from the pain and pleasure combination.

If possible, she clamped her fingers harder around my nipples. "Try again." She said through clenched teeth.

"Ahhhh." It hurt, but it also felt so good. I danced from one foot to the other. "What, Mrs. Reynolds?" I said in a higher octave than I had ever spoken in before.

"Slut. Are. You. Wet?" She asked slower this time. Her voice dripped with commands.

"Yes. Mrs. Reynolds. Yes." I admitted wanting the pain to stop; desperate for it to stop.

She snickered and released my nipples. It hurt almost as much when the blood returned to them. I slumped forward a bit and found I breathed heavily.

"Show me slut." She demanded.

I hesitated. Mrs. Reynolds' hands came back to my nipples quickly, and she pulled this time. Mrs. Reynold's vice-like fingers had my peach nipples, and she yanked me down to my knees. I cried out.

"I do not like repeating myself, slut. Do not make me do it again."

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds." I whimpered, and she let me go.

Timidly, as I was extremely embarrassed by being so horny because of my old-lady neighbor, I slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my yoga pants. I slipped them down and stepped out of them. I stood in front of her naked. My hands immediately went to my pussy, covering it.

She frowned. "It's all hairy." Mrs. Reynolds complained.

Her disapproval sent a flush through me. "I-I-I'm sorry Mrs. Reynolds." The need to correct it, to correct whatever she found unpleasing surged through me. This only made my head spin in confusion further.

"I can see why you want to hide it." She grumbled before swiping my hands away.

I stood there again with my arms hanging awkwardly at my sides while my neighbor inspected my body. She squeezed my hips. She ran a hand over my stomach. Each time her fingers grazed my skin it tingled from my toes to my clit and up into my head.

I felt her eyes on me. I hung my head in shame. How could I like this? How could I let her do this? What was wrong with me?

"Well, spread them apart slut. I can't tell if you are wet with you all clamped up like that." She slapped at my thighs like she had done many times before. "Be a good slut spread your legs." This time it felt so much more erotic. This time it sent a shiver through me.

"Yes, Mrs. Reynolds." I slowly moved my feet apart.

"More slut." Mrs. Reynolds continued to slap at me. The skin of my thighs turned pink.

I did as she asked. Before I knew it, my legs were more than shoulder width apart. This caused my puffy outer labia to part. Cool air tickled my moist flesh, and her hand was on my sex.

I gasped. Mrs. Reynolds pressed her palm against the mound and slipped two of her fingers down my slit. "That's a good slut. I knew you were a good slut." She praised me and it only made sink deeper into the need for approval.

I shivered. I was beyond wet. My lower lips were swollen and slick. Mrs. Reynolds' fingers glided between the puffy lips to find the warm inner ones. She swirled her fingers around, and my knees buckled. She laughed. I reddened.

My mind swirled with how I got here. How did I wind up naked in front of my neighbor? How did I wind up naked with my neighbor's hand on my pussy? Oh god! I squeaked. How did I wind up with my neighbor's fingers inside me?

"Yes. That's a good slut, Jenny." She praised me. It felt good. Why did it feel good? Probably because her fingers were sliding in and out of me while her thumb pressed against my clit.

My heart picked up the pace. My breathing sped up. I closed my eyes. It felt so good.

Click.

My eyes opened, and I saw Mrs. Reynold's phone in her hand. "What?"

Click.

She pushed three fingers deep into me, and I groaned. I bent my knees slightly when she pushed them deep into me.

"Please." I moaned.

"More, slut?" She asked and then she pressed her thumb harder against my clit. I felt my walls tighten around her fingers. Mrs. Reynolds opened her fingers within me. It felt so weird and so good.

"No." I gasped. "Mrs. Reynolds," I remembered. "Please," I said in between thrusts of her fingers.

"No?" She pouted. Click. "Is that what you really mean slut?" She asked.

She wiggled all three fingers inside me and my hips bucked against her hand. "Mrs. Reynolds," I whined.

"Is it really what you mean Jenny-slut?" She asked as she worked my cunt with three fingers and her thumb circled my clit. "I will stop. All you have to do is say it slut. Say stop and I will." She accented it by wiggling her fingers more. This time she hit that spot.

I had heard about a g-spot, I had never experienced it's effects when stimulated. I had never found it. Mrs. Reynolds was an expert. She curled her fingers just right and stroked a ball of nerves that sent me trembling on my feet unsure my legs would hold me.