Puppy & Poochie - 02
Puppy & Poochie | Noncon | Mind Break | Hetro
Puppy
Abruptly, the door opens.
Instantly, I look up. By the time his eyes focus on me, I'm already beaming up at him.
A good puppy never fails to greet her Master with a smile.
A lesson I learned well.
At first, when I was alone, I spent my time playing with the tennis ball, a "gift" he left buried between my legs. Extracting it had been... A shiver runs down my spine at the memory. Now, the tennis ball I worked so hard for sits in the corner. Untouched. How can I greet him properly if I'm still scrambling into position when he sees me? Even standing next to the door, I'd still be dropping to my knees.
Completely unacceptable.
Only when I'm already where I belong can I greet him properly. So, I spend my time kneeling before the door. Waiting for him to arrive.
Some days.
The worst days.
He never comes.
"Did you have a good night, puppy?" he asks, the door closing behind him.
My smile trembles as memories rush through my mind. At his command, my kennel had been left open all night.
I could have eaten the drugged food. Could have slept through everything. But, when he first trained me, I tried just laying there. Eyes unfocused, seeing nothing, pretending I was back in med school.
He taught me better.
Amused, he had said, "Bad fuckees get a big bad mother fucker."
Bright pink. Studded. Thirteen inches long. It’s base as big around as my arm. Janet's strapon. 'Big Bad Mother Fucker' spelled out along its length in bright yellow letters.
I'll never be a bad fuckee again.
My pussy? My mouth? No other man may possess. My asshole, on the other hand, belongs to anyone who wants to use it. So, I arched my back and spread my cheeks for everyone who entered my kennel.
"Y-yes, master," I lie, nodding eagerly, praying that this was what he desires. "Fifteen men and two women fucked my asshole last night. They made sure your happy little puppy had a good time."
Keeping track of every single rape had been another lesson.
"Good girl," he says
Heat rushes through me, as I flush at his praise. He reaches down and pats me on the head.
Why does that make me happy?
I hate him.
Don't I?
He's sadistic and cruel. Always hurting me. Always doing things to me. Such terrible things. Worse of all, sometimes, like last night, he has other people do things to me.
Because I'm not worth his time.
He gently scritches about my head, fingers digging into my hair. A kind touch. It's been so long I can’t help but lean into him, encouraging him to continue. His puppy.
When he straightens back up, the sudden absence of his touch leaves me empty. Alone. Fighting back tears. He crosses my little kennel in three short strides, and I follow at his heels.
Supple leather flexes as he settles into the comfortable chair. At least it seems comfortable. I'll never know.
Animals aren't allowed on furniture.
His fingers snap. Pointing. I quickly craw to the minibar. Rusty Nail. his favorite drink. Served on the rocks. Glass, scotch, and a lemon peel go on a little table.
Next to 'Big Bad Mother Fucker.'
Janet's strap on.
Bright pink.
Brighter than when she pulled it from my cunt. Red with my blood. Licking it clean. Her laughter, filled with joy, echoing off stone walls. If only memories could be cleansed as easily as blood.
Why did they leave it here?
Just a reminder?
God, I hope it’s just a reminder. Once was enough.
While he reads the newspaper, an actual old-fashioned newspaper, I kneel. Facing him. Hands raised above my head. Palms up, fingers parallel with the floor. Balancing his whiskey glass.
Just a table.
Occasionally, he drinks.
High heels echo, tapping closer. Behind my back, the door opens. Ginger, clove, and jasmine. Her perfume. Janet. She's here. My attention stays on him. Another painful lesson I learned. Observing him, I waited. Handsome as any movie star. James Bond, without the martini. He could have any woman he wanted.
He chose me.
And I disappointed him.
Ashamed, I look down. How could I bear seeing his disapproval again? Such a simple order.
Just two little words. Don't swallow.
And I fucked it up.
He finishes his whiskey and rolls the newspaper up, placing both on the floor.
Not on me.
Useless.
Even as a table.
He doesn't ask me to service him. He doesn’t order me to hump his leg. Doesn’t twist my nipples. Doesn't dig gouging fingers into my breast. Or my cunt. Or my ass. Doesn’t drag me to him. Doesn’t hit me. Doesn’t choke me. Doesn’t whip me. Doesn’t cane me.
Doesn’t shove me down and rape me.
Doesn't touch me in any way.
He greets Janet, and they talk. Discussing cash flow and human resources. I’m nothing to them. Useless. At a break in their conversation, I speak up.
"Master? May I suck your cock? Please? I'll do better this time."
God, I meant it.
I actually meant it.
"Puppy, that's what you said last time, and you disappointed me," he says, then returns to their conversation with her.
He doesn't want me to service him.
My pounding heart drowns out everything else.
But... that's all I'm good for.
Will he leave?
Forever?
What would I do without him!
"I'm so sorry, Master," I wail, clutching at his pants. "Please, punish me, Master. Teach your foolish puppy another lesson."
He crosses his legs, ankle-on-knee, ripping free of my clutching grasp.
I don't dare reach for him again.
"P-p-please," I bow all the way down, pressing my face into the floor. "Use me. Punish me. Hurt me. Teach me. Anything. Please. Anything at all."
A mantra, I chant over and over. Begging him to do whatever he wants to me. Every moment he sits there, silent, gives me hope. Because he’s still here.
Because he hasn't left.
"Okay, Puppy, I'll let you suck my cock."
"Thank you, Master!" I blurt out, scurrying up to him, kissing his boots.
"I'm not finished," he says.
"Puppy's sorry, Master."
Holding my breath, I wait.
Did I blow it?
"As I was saying... I'll let you suck my cock, if you convince Janet to fuck your ass with 'Big Bad Mother Fucker' while you do it."
I whimper. Flashes of agony. Remembered pain. Blazing through my mind. Only Janet—who prefers the intimacy of first names—has hurt me more than Master. And that was from fucking my pussy.
"T-thank you, Master," I say.
At least I'm not useless to him.
Crawling to her, face against the floor, I abase myself.
Dark Fantasies