Sydney's Dogs Ch. 01

"Oh great blistering cabbages, you're not going to patronize me like that to me forever, are you?" Sydney groaned. "Look, whatever they told you in there, I'm not going to hurt you or force you do to anything you don't want to. Just give me a strait answer."

The two men glanced at each other. They'd been warned about this sort of thing in their training. No matter a buyer's apparent lenience, their submissive behavior was not to change. They were trained to satisfy in almost every situation.

"Oh, fine, if you both are going to be all stoic and servile, you-" she pointed at Number 219, "Come with me and you-" she pointed at Number 178, "stay here with...him. Just keep him from spontaneously combusting."

She got out of the car, leaving the windows open, and Number 219 fell into step behind her. She grabbed his hand.

"If we're going to do this right, I don't want you looking like a whipped lackey. I'd rather you look like my whipped boyfriend," she snapped. He nodded with a sexy smile and Sydney's heart fluttered. She couldn't possibly be mad at such a gorgeous face. She wasn't mad at him; she was mad at herself, and it wasn't fair to take it out on him.

They walked into Target. Sydney let go of his hand so Number 219 could grab a cart and expertly guided it down the aisle. She lead the way to the Men's Clothing department. She grabbed nine packs of boxers and nine packs of undershirts. Socks, she remembered, and threw another nine packages Then she rifled through the shirt racks and pulled out a selection of graphic t-shirts in large and extra large. She grabbed six sets of pajama pants with matching robes and tossed them in the cart. Passing by the shoe section, she grabed a large pair of flip-flops for the man in the back of the SUV.

Then they went to the personal hygiene section, and Sydney picked out 3 coordinated sets of masculine shampoo, body wash, deodorant, and cologne. She also grabbed shaving cream, several packs of razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and three travel hygiene kits with combs, nail clippers, etc. After that, it was off to the snack section. She grabbed 4 large bottles of water, and then turned to 219.

"What do you like to eat?" she asked.

Number 219 smirked, his eyes sweeping up and down her figure, and opened his mouth to reply.

"I MEAN ON THE SHELF HERE!" Sydney almost yelled.

"Peaches," 219 said innocently.

"There arn't any peaches here," she retorted.

"There is you," he replied, his voice low and seductive.

"Stop it," she snapped, even as a blush crept up her face. He didn't act like a slave. He acted like a normal guy who was interested in her. Lots of men were. She had a perfect figure, lush chestnut hair, large hazel eyes, and a sassy mouth. Men were always trying to get in her pants or into her wallet. It was a 50/50 crap shoot as to which attracted them more. "Seriously though, if you're hungry, just tell me. What do you think the others would like?"

"Perhaps some jerky and crackers," 219 said with a shrug.

Sydney grabbed the appropriate packages and tossed them into the cart. Then with a quick stop in the bedding department to grab some blankets, they checked out. Her accountant was going to have a fit when he saw her credit card bill. She'd just tell him that it all went to charity. It didn't matter anyway.

Back a the car, 219 helped her by blocking outsiders' view interior of her cargo space. Sydney was worried about her third passenger. He had been absolutely silent so far, and she was a little afraid that what Ann said about him was true; that he was little more than an animal.

"Are you doing alright?" she asked. He just looked at her, afraid and tired and naked. Sydney unlatched the door of the cage slowly, watching him for any motion. "I got some things for you. Underwear and pants and a shirt." Dutifully, 219 passed her the articles of clothing. "You could get dressed and sit up in front with the rest of us," she added hopefully as she set the clothing in front of the man. He didn't touch it. "We also got you some blankets to sit on. We could drape one over you to give you some privacy." He still didn't move. Sydney sighed and spread the second blanket over the cage. "Here's some water and some crackers. It should tide you over until we get home—it'll be a few hours yet."

He moved for the first time, tentatively taking the water and crackers, hunger etched deeply in his face.

Encouraged, Sydney reached out to brush his curly red hair behind one ear. He shivered under her touch, but was too afraid to jerk back. "If you get dressed before our next stop, we can all go out to dinner? How does that sound?"

Number 219 put the rest of the bags in the back and got back in his seat. Sydney started the car and they pulled out to the highway again.

"So, pass around the water and food," Sydney instructed. "And tell me about yourselves. Names, favorite things, all that jazz."

"Our names are whatever you want them to be," 178 replied softly.

Of course, Sydney thought. Why emancipate them with as something as simple as a name? "Well,that changes right now. Names—what would you like?"

"It matters not to us, mistress, what you call us," 219 explained. "Only that you call us."

"I have to call you something," she argued. "I can't just say 'hey you' to all three of you. And please don't call me 'mistress.' It makes me think of a catholic boarding school."

"Our names are yours to choose," 178 repeated.

"Mistress is only a title of respect," 219 muttered, a little down at being reprimanded.

"And I bet all that has been integrated into your DNA," she sighed. "Fine. I'll pick your names—and I'll pick my own, thank you very much." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "Number 178, your name from this moment on is Talon. 219, your name is Zaide, and you in the back? I don't know what number they gave you but your new name is Brant. I expect you all to answer to your names and you may respectfully call me Miss Sydney. I'm sure they trained you on how to keep a low profile? Well using 'mistress' is definitely not low profile."

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Talon and Zaide chorused. There was no sound from Brant.

"Now, tell me some of your favorite things," Sydney prompted.

Zaide went first. "My favorite things all have to do with my mouth," he said. She rolled her eyes at the smile she could hear in his voice. "I like anything I can taste, which is why I love cooking so much and why I love to lick your body from head to toe."

"You've never licked my body, Zaide," Sydney retorted, even though she was blushing. "So how do you know if it's one of your favorite things?"

"Because I will make it my favorite thing," he assured her.

"And you, Talon?" Sydney asked, trying to change the subject as she changed lanes.

"I love sound. Music. Poetry," he said, his voice even more seductive than Zaide's. "My joy lies in the sounds I create when I caress an instrument. Or you."

"Again, never happened before," she admonished, even as her heart quickened at the idea of his hands on her body, arousing every pressure point.

"I am certain we will make beautiful music together," he replied.

Sydney shivered. "Guys, take it easy on me," she ordered hoarsely. "I'm not exactly used to this sort of thing. Most of the men I know are complete assholes or gay or completely gay assholes."

"That's why we are here," Talon concluded.

Sydney shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, I suppose so. But just because I had a serious lapse in judgment doesn't mean you have to do anything you don't want to."

"But we want to do you," Zaide protested. He was directly behind her and he leaned forward to breathe in her ear. "You have no idea how much I want to do you."

Sydney swerved to avoid drifting into another car. This was getting too hot too fast. "Alright, brush with death—check. Let's stop with seducing the driver please."

"I'll drive," Talon offered. "You should relax. You've driven too much today."

Sydney believed him. "But do you have a driver's license?"

"I have been trained in precision driving. We will not be pulled over," he assured her. "Let me drive, and you can relax. You deserve to relax after such a long day."

His voice was so convincing that Sydney found herself pulling over to the right shoulder almost before she made the decision. She needed a nap, she decided. She stopped the car and got out. She climbed into the shotgun seat and leaned it back. Talon took the driver's seat and they were on the freeway again.

"I meant it when I said I wanted you," Zaide murmured close to her ear. "I want to taste you. I have since I saw you looking for an attendant."

"You've probably wanted to taste every prospective buyer," Sydney shot back, trying to keep a tight rein on her rising hormones. Despite her efforts, the image of Zaide licking the glass flashed through her head and liquid heat pooled between her legs.

"No," he replied honestly. "There have been many prospective buyers that I would have rather died than licked. But you smell so delicious. Will you grant me a taste, Miss Sydney? Just one small taste to show my appreciation?" His long tongue snaked out and grazed her earlobe ever so delicately.

Sydney gasped. She couldn't help it. The touch was just too erotic.

"What-" her throat dried up unexpectedly and she had to swallow and start again. "What is up with you? You don't even know me. Yes—I bought you. I'm sorry. I'm totally embarrassed about that. It never should have happened, but you don't owe me anything."

"Don't be sorry—I'm not. I owe you everything," Zaide protested.

"No, you don't get it," Sydney shook her head in denial. "If I wasn't afraid for all our lives, I would insist on you going to the FBI or CIA so we could bring down the slave ring. I only was curious about the whole thing because I hate dating—I hate men trying to take advantage of me—and that's exactly what I've done to you. So, I appreciate the compliments, but I refuse to act like I own you because I don't." She tried to be firm, despite the heat pooling between her legs.

"Let me ask you this question," Talon calmly responded. "If heart surgery was considered barbaric and therefore made illegal, and you had a heart condition, and you managed to find two of the greatest underground heart surgeons money could entice, would it be wrong to accept their medical ministrations?"

"That is completely different. Heart surgeons save lives," she protested.

"A great heart surgeon does not become a great heart surgeon unless they truly want it. No matter how many parents try, you cannot force greatness," he explained. "We did not become what we are unless we choose to embrace the training."

"But they kill you if you don't—that's the deal, right? What kind of choice is that?" she demanded indignantly, all the while thinking of Brant in his cage.

"Everyone dies," Talon said with a shrug. "And there are far worse fates than dedicating your life to one person."

Sydney shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

"What makes sense to me," Zaide said, gently tailing his hands down her left arm. "Is that my entire life has been built around pleasing you. If you say I cannot do this, then I shall die of a broken heart."

"Do you listen to yourself?" Sydney cried. She scrubbed her arm to get rid of the silly tingling sparks his fingers had left behind.

"You smell so pure, so innocent. So delicious. I only want a small taste. One tiny lick and then you can tell me to stop."

"I-" She didn't know what to say.

"Miss Sydney, if I may speak freely," Talon interjected softly.

"Always," she replied.

"He will not stop begging you until you either punish him for impudence or allow him to service you," Talon said. "His persistence is legendary."

"Um..." Sydney was still embarrassed at the idea of allowing a man to eat her out in front of two other men.

"Please," Zaide begged, gently tugging her arms as he drew her to the back seat. Sydney hadn't even fastened her seat belt yet and found herself being pulled to the bench seat. "Just a little lick."

"Maybe just one," she consented as she sat down. Her own heartbeat roared in her ears.

Delighted, Zaide deftly unbuttoned her slacks and drew them down her legs. He slid the pants over her designer high-heels without removing the shoes. Then he pulled her panties down, the tips of his fingers gently scratching down her legs. Sydney shivered as the tension built in her body. Already she was dripping wet. Zaide's tongue danced along in inner left thigh and she moaned with the sparks it created.

Then his long tongue reached her swollen lips and parted them with one firm stroke. She gasped at how good it felt. Men had gone down on her before, but they'd always attacked her sensitive parts with the same finesse as if they were in a watermelon eating contest. With one lick, Zaide put them all to shame.

"Another? Please?" he pleaded. Sydney didn't realize she had nodded until he bowed his head for another taste. "You are so delicious," he purred. "Please, more. Let me taste more."

Sydney's heart was racing, her breathing shallow as Zaide explored every fold of her lips with long, slow strokes. His strong arms wrapped around her thighs to keep her sweet honeypot stationary as he lapped at her. Her ankles locked behind his head. She gasped when his tongue speared her. She never knew a tongue could reach that deeply. His lips were still working, stimulating her clitoris as his tongue thrummed inside her body. Her manicured nails clawed at the upholstery as she tried to anchor herself. It didn't work. A perfect storm of pleasure built, boiling her blood until she was whimpering for release. The orgasm was fast and hard. She cried out through gritted teeth and her back arched. She felt like she was dissolving with the sheer pleasure. Slowly, she came down from the dizzying high as Zaide gently licked up the orgasmic juices.

"Sweet winking jellyfish," she panted.

"More?" he asked, almost pleaded.

"No!" she cried. "No, thank you. That was plenty." She fumbled for her underwear and pants. Zaide helped her get the pants over her high-heels and he even buttoned them for her. Then his arms circled her waist and he laid his head in her lap.

"You are so good, more delicious than anything I could ever cook," he told her.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that," she said huskily. "I know I did." She couldn't believe he was cuddling her after her orgasm. She blushed as she asked her next question, "Um, I'm not sure how to say this, but do you...?"

"Pleasing you is all I ever need," Zaide replied as he nuzzled her. She stroked his bald head affectionately. This was certainly shaping up to be an unusual—but extremely pleasurable—investment.

Sydney eventually fell asleep in the car, after telling Talon to wake her when they got close to Salinas or if they got hungry on the way. She slept soundly after such a complete orgasm. Soon, Zaide was stroking her face to wake her up.

"Miss Sydney," he said softly. "It's almost supper time and we're getting close."

"Hmm?" Sydney rubbed her eyes as she came too. Zaide was looking at her, a crooked smile on his face. He was the sexiest bald man she had ever seen. Where Talon was more angular, Zaide bulged with strength. The mischievous, puppy-dog look on his face didn't hurt, either. "Oh, ok. Let's stop for dinner. I don't feel like cooking—and I don't think I have anything in my kitchen to feed all four of us."

"There's a Black Angus Steakhouse up ahead," Talon called out.

"Sounds good to me," Sydney declared as she stretched. Talon expertly maneuvered the car into the parking-lot and found a spot. She leaned over the back of the seat to check on Brant. "You got dressed—that's wonderful," she cried delightedly. She jumped out of the car, ran around to the back and opened the cage door. She coaxed, "Come on, stretch your legs. It's ok."

Brant very hesitantly unfolded himself from the cage. Standing upright on uncertain legs, Brant was an impressive sight to behold. Out of the three, he had the broadest shoulders. Even though he was under-fed, Grey would envy this perfect anatomy for his medical book. His curly carrot-red hair fell in uneven ringlets almost to his shoulders. In the black shirt, black pajama pants, and flip-flops, he looked almost like a ninja.

Sydney clapped her hands delightedly and gave him a genuine smile. "I'm so glad you're feeling better. Come on, let's go get dinner," she said and she wrapped one arm around his waist to steady him as they walked together into the restaurant, Talon and Zaide flanking them.

Sydney was glad that Brant could walk. She had been afraid that he wasn't just boxed up, but was handicapped. Fortunately that fear had been laid to rest. He was a little unsteady, but that was expected after so many hours in the car.

They were seated almost immediately. Brant sat on one side of Sydney and Talon on the other. Zaide took the other side of Brant. Both attendants were wary of the unfinished man. Every instinct told them that Brant could not be trusted, and their training demanded that they protect Sydney at all costs.

Brant stared mutely at the menu and didn't respond to Sydney's prompting. When the waiter came to take their orders, Sydney chose a small meal for him. No sooner had the waiter left than Zaide casually draped his arm around Brant's shoulders. Brant shuddered, but didn't pull away. He just stared at the table in front of him.

"Zaide, what are you doing?" Sydney asked suspiciously. If Zaide wanted to "taste" Brant too, she wasn't about to let it happen in a restaurant or without Brant's consent. Brant didn't seem to be giving any reaction.

"Just checking out the broken guy," Zaide replied amiably.

"Don't call him that," she snapped.

"Yes, Miss Sydney," Zaide replied dutifully. He shook his head but didn't say anything. Talon's eyes narrowed slightly. Sydney ignored their disapproval. Zaide hugged Brant's shoulders and let him go. Brant didn't move.

Sydney stroked Brant's other shoulder encouragingly. Obviously, having three extremely sexy guys living with her was going to be touchy—and not in a good way. "Now, when we get to my place, you each can pick out your own room and divide the Target spoils fairly among yourselves. It's not much, but at least you won't be naked for the next couple of days," she said.

"Aww," Zaide pouted.

"Gah—you're such a—a—I don't know what!" Sydney exclaimed, throwing her hands up hopelessly. "Look, all I want is to forget the millions that used to be in my bank account and find a way for the four of us to live out our days in relative peace and obscurity. So cut it out."

"It is part of who we are to flirt shamelessly," Zaide said with a shrug. "Besides, we can live in peace and flirt shamelessly. And more."

Sydney rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she continued, "I have a lot of work to catch up on when we get home—and the place is a mess anyway—so don't expect much."

"If I may ask, Miss Sydney, what do you do?" Talon wanted to know.

Sydney blushed. "I inherited the family business. Most of it is pretty self-sufficient. I just make decisions now and then."

"What is the family business?" Zaide asked.

"Um...owning things..." Sydney mumbled. "Mostly stocks and properties."

Zaide and Talon exchanged the briefest of glances, but she knew what they were thinking. She was a complete hypocrite. She owned parts of businesses and properties all over the world, controlled hundreds of lives directly, and influenced hundreds more. But she didn't want to own two men who would do anything for her. Or so she said.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the waiter returning with the food. Even though everyone was eating, no one felt much like talking, and everyone left without dessert.

Sydney reclaimed the driver's seat and Brant was coaxed into shotgun. She turned on the radio to fill the silence as they drove home. Zaide was a little suspicious that their new mistress was playing mind games with them. It wasn't uncommon for new buyers to "test" their attendants with promises of leniency or freedom, only to snatch it away at the last moment. Zaide felt ridiculous for being so enthusiastic about being purchased by her at first. Now, he decided, that he would watch and wait for a little while before laying his heart at her feet.