A genuine, certified, registered Pet Girl collar laid on your desk, with various wires going to its circuits, and the computer hummed in background of your frantic typing, grunting and whining.

"I don't like this at all, Anna. This is the craziest, most stupid idea from you a while. And you bloody know what sort of risk taker you are in normal day too. Isn't stealing this collar enough for you?"

"Not the only thing I nabbed." I shrugged my shoulders, referring the ample loot of pet girl training equipment, but my joking tone was crossing the line clearly.

"This is not a damn joke. You want to get inside that club in...those things with me and expect it to be walk in park? Hello, didn't you just say you suspected damn government being involved with this trafficking of women to Victoire? You want to get fucked up for life? No, in fact, don't answer to that."

Well, it was time for me took offense to that comment.

"Yeah, maybe if you'd got society built around male slavery and male pet, uh, boys, next to our nation, then you'd be more concerned beyond just your own neck. But you don't. I actually happen to care about those poor women in that hell hole of a society, and especially any shady dealings happening to here." I said, crossing my arms. Only silence followed.

"Besides, this is fucking massive. Head of the central bank engaging some underground parties and being bribed with women pets. Women pets, for heaven's sake! This is a scoop of the century, and final nail to coffin to any attempts to bring that patriarchal system to our country. So, any progress opening that thing so you can register me to that collar?"

"...It's doable." You concede. "Though I don't like it. There's more to playing this role than wearing genuine stuff, Anna. You know it."

I waved my hand. "Yes, yes. I know. We'll practice a bit, you do your amazing investigation as you normally do, my dear informant in shining armor, and after hating myself for two or three days we can bask in glory for the rest of our lives. Doing something right this time."

I looked the equipment on the bed, then tossed my hair. "I'll hit the shower. Then, dress up." I said cheerfully, leaving your protests aside for now.

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TL;DR Government colludes with patriarchal dystopia next door, and evidence is right there waiting at secret club just begging for journalist/informant team to sneak in as Pet and Owner. In other words, this is the biggest biting more than you can chew play with pet play twist. Open to Puppy girls or pony girls - real women in role and training, not furry or anything alike. I might be open for regular slave girl play too, if you're too good of writer to miss but don't like pet/pony girl play.

I'd hope for intensive training, conditioning, tough routines, equipment, rules and whatnot to break my confidence, while building up yours. We are a team, but let's face it, I'm fucked without your support. Both us need to do our best.

Please, reddit messages only, no chat. Thanks for reading everyone!~