Beg For It by Sogo

Do not use without the author’s permission.

“Fuck off, scumbag.”

Sonny was hurt. All he had asked for was some spare change for a cup of coffee, and this rich-bitch cunt had all but kicked him in the balls. Dressed in her expensive suit and talking on her smart phone like she was the fuckin’ Queen of Sheba or something. She thought she was so superior, walking down the street with that toned gym body, perfect hair, and designer fucking shoes. Screw her. She was worse than many of the others. He had hoped that the recent gentrification of the neighborhood would mean more handouts, but that was not the case at all.

Later, all that Jaquie remembered was that she was walking down the street when suddenly someone grabbed her purse and there was a sharp blow to her head. She saw stars, and then nothing. The next thing she knew, her life had changed completely.

Sonny heard the scuffle and the sharp cry of pain. He peered cautiously around the corner and saw the rich bitch lying sprawled out on the ground and two men disappearing down the street. There was no one else around.

He saw his opportunity, and moved quicker than he had in years. He grabbed his shopping cart and raced down the street, stopping next to the fallen woman. She was unconscious. Sonny scanned the street. Still no one. Acting quickly, he scooped up the limp woman and dumped her into his shopping cart. She lay there peacefully. It was almost as if she was sleeping among the trash. He pushed her arms and legs in so they weren’t hanging out, then covered her up with old clothes and a plastic garbage bag. One of her pumps had fallen off, so he grabbed it and shoved it in next to the woman. It was only a few short blocks to the abandoned warehouse he called home. He got behind the cart, leaned forward, and pushed. He desperately wanted to hurry, but he did his best to stroll down the street just as nonchalant as he could be so as not to arouse suspicion.

She could barely breathe. And then there was the smell, the horrible smell. And the fact that she was stuffed into a tiny uncomfortable space and that something was preventing her from moving around very much. But she was inside something that was moving. She blacked out again.

The homeless man reached the warehouse without incident. His excitement grew as he realized the insane good luck that had come his way. A woman. A real woman to call his own. And good-looking, too. It was like winning the lottery, only better.

He smoothed out the old blanket that covered the stained mattress that he used for a bed, then uncovered his prize. She lay motionless. He reached in and gathered her up in his arms. As he lifted her up, the shopping cart fell over and clattered noisily on the bare, cracked concrete of the floor, spilling some of its contents. Fortunately, the noise didn’t bring her around. He turned awkwardly and shuffled over to his mattress, depositing her as gently as he could onto the dirty blanket.

He stood up. She lay there as if asleep. Sleeping Beauty. But she would soon be awake, and he would have to do something about that.

He went back to his shopping cart and dug around until he found an almost-finished roll of duct tape. Ripping off chunks, he taped her mouth and eyes. He got out a half-empty pack of gum and stuck two pieces in his mouth before starting on her clothes.

He tried removing as many as possible at one time—jacket, silky blouse, lacy camisole, plain padded push-up bra. He bunched them all up together and worked them off her body, rolling her over onto her face to finish the job. He was disappointed to find that her tits were much smaller than expected because of her bra, but that was just a minor setback. He wound duct tape around her wrists and lower arms before moving on to the rest of her clothes.

He pulled off her other pump before unzipping her skirt and hooking his fingers in the waistband. Skirt, slip, pantyhose, and panties came off easily, bunching up as they were pulled down her slim legs. He tugged them free of her feet and tossed them into a pile with her other clothes. He didn’t have enough duct tape for her ankles, so he used her pantyhose. She wouldn’t be needing those any more, anyway.

His gum was soft and well-chewed. He spat it out, separated it into two pieces, and pressed each piece into an ear. She was now naked, bound, and helpless. And his. So, what should he do with her now?

He pawed through her clothes, looking for anything he could use. In an inside pocket of her suit jacket, he found her cell phone; in another, he found a wallet. Much to his delight, there was several hundred dollars and an assortment of credit cards. Jackpot! He would have to move quickly, though, if he was going to use the plastic.

Jaquie came to with a throbbing headache. The first thing she noticed was that she was cold. And naked. The second thing she noticed was that she was bound and gagged. The third, that she was lying on a filthy, smelly mattress. And finally, that she had not been violated. With alarm, she struggled to get free, but with almost all her senses cut off, she had no idea if her struggles would do any good, as she couldn’t adequate assess her situation. There was no response to her struggles from her captor or captors, but that didn’t mean much of anything. She continued to try and escape, but knew from the outset that she was too well bound for her efforts to make any difference, and soon stopped.

She could only lie there. And wait.

Sonny went into an office in the warehouse and studied her smart phone. It was still on from when she had made her call earlier and had probably hadn’t had time to turn it off before she was knocked unconscious. Time to go shopping.

He had found smart phones before, and had played around with them, so he knew how to navigate his way around its features. He found a website that sold fetish toys and started buying: A latex doggie hood and paws, a butt plug doggie tail where the butt plug was a soft cylinder that conformed and adhered to the anal opening so that a “doggie” could do its business without removing the tail, several small padlocks, and a canine shock collar. He chose next-day delivery. Hell, she could afford it.

Next, he went to a pet supply website, where he bought a dog tag with the name “Princess” engraved on it, a large dog cage, a dog harness, some squeaky toys, some rawhide chewies, some dog treats, food and water dishes, and a month’s supply of quality dog food. He gave the warehouse address as the destination for both purchases.

He turned the phone off and went back out to where the woman lay. She was still in the same place, but the duct tape around her wrists was twisted and bunched up here and there. So she was awake. He would have to take care of things until his packages arrived. He took a twenty from her wad of cash, and headed out.

There was an all-night convenience store two blocks down, and the bored clerk was talking on her cell phone as he went in. He should probably get her something healthy. He grabbed two bottles of Gatorade (SALE: 2 for $3), a chef salad, and some fruit. For himself, he got a 40-ouncer. To celebrate.

The girl looked at him strangely as he piled his purchases onto the counter. “On a health kick, are we?”

“I’m training for the marathon next month.”

“Oooo-kay.” She rang it all up and gave him the total. He handed her the twenty. She looked at the brand-new bill and eyed him suspiciously.

“Winning lottery ticket,” he said. “In fact, gimme two more of them Bling King tickets. I seem to get lucky with those.”

“Sure thing.” She bagged it all up and handed him his change. “Thank you for shopping Night Owl.”

“You have a good night, too, sweetie.” He winked, and she gave him a frozen smile in response.

Jaquie had smelled something bad, and her naked body had tingled with fear as she felt the presence of somebody near her. But nothing had happened. She wished to hell she knew what was going on. She didn’t like waiting for something to happen. Should she try to escape now, or wait for a better opportunity? Fuck!

Her body jerked involuntarily as he prised the gum out of one ear, and then she lay still, breathing heavily.

“I got some food for you. I’m going to pull you up into a kneeling position and remove the tape from your mouth so you can eat. If you say one word, you don’t eat. If you scream, you will get punished. Got that?”

She nodded slowly. The nasty smell had returned. Despite her headache, the voice seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She would have to comply until she got a better grasp of the situation.

Jaquie felt filthy hands push into her armpits and slowly raise her up. She felt extremely vulnerable, and was expecting something bad to happen any moment, but all that happened was what he said he was going to do. She suppressed a cry of pain as the duct tape was ripped from her face.

And then a straw was pushed into her mouth. She gave a tentative sip, and tasted something fruity. “Strawberry Gatorade,” he said. She took more sips.

“I got a chef salad, a banana, an orange, and an apple. I will feed you the salad first.”

She nodded obediently, and a plastic forkful of lettuce and other ingredients entered her mouth. Hard plastic brushed the underside of her chin, and she knew he was holding it there to catch anything that fell out of her mouth.

Sonny sat in front of her, patiently feeding her. He gazed longingly at her pert little breasts all the while, watching them rising and falling, the nipples quivering with each shuddering breath. When she finished, he dabbed her lips with a napkin.

“I’ll give you the banana next. Save the apple and orange for later.”

For later. That was not a good sign, Jaquie thought. It meant he had plans for her. Evil plans. Hopefully, he just wanted money.

She finished the banana before she decided to speak. “Can’t we—“

Slap! Duct tape sealed her mouth, the center of it crinkling and twisting as she tried to complete her sentence.

“I told ya not to do that.” A grimy hand slid up her thigh, and Jaquie fell back onto the mattress to escape it. The hand pulled away, but it had the intended effect. The naked woman shook with fear.

She heard him get up and walk away, and then there was a rustling, and a musty blanket was draped over her body.

“Sleep well. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

The soft gum was pushed back into her ear, and the captive woman was sent back into a dark, silent world filled with fear.

Sonny found an old plastic workplace safety sign and flipped it over. On the back, he wrote, “DELIVERY MAN—leave packages by the side door in the alley.” With the little duct tape that he had left, he taped it to the front door of the warehouse. Now all he had to do was wait.

He went back inside and celebrated by drinking his forty. He scratched his lottery tickets, but neither one were winners. For the first time ever it didn’t bother him.

On the warehouse floor, Jaquie lay there trying to piece together the mystery of her captivity. She could remember her name, her address, and where she worked. She vaguely remembered heading home, and then nothing. Some street person had evidently knocked her unconscious and kidnapped her. Sometime during the night, she managed to fall asleep.

Sonny passed out after finishing his forty, snoring as he lay in the worn leather office chair.

Sonny woke with a start when the rising sun filtered through the dirty windows and hit his eyes. He stumbled out into the main room and saw that she was still lying there, fast asleep. He checked the entrance, but it was still too early for the packages to have arrived.

Returning to his captive, he popped the gum from one ear, startling her awake. “I’m going to let you pee, then I’m going to feed you the fruit and Gatorade. Okay?”

Jaquie nodded. Sonny untied her legs, pulled her to her feet, then took her to a corner of the room where he had her kneel, positioning an empty rusted-out paint can between her legs. “Okay, go.”

Not all of it got in the can, but Sonny didn’t care. The humiliated woman complied, perhaps realizing she had no other options. He took her back to her mattress and fed her.

“I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here. Last night, I had asked you for some spare change for a cuppa coffee, but you just said, ‘Fuck off, scumbag.’ That really hurt. You didn’t have to do that. Anyway, you got mugged, and the guys who did it knocked you unconscious. That is when I decided to teach you a lesson.”

Fragments of last night began to appear in her mind. She barely remembered the guy sitting there on the street, but the fact that some homeless person was holding her hostage frightened her. And “teach her a lesson?” What did that mean? What horrors did he have in store for her?

She ate the fruit from his grimy fingers while trying not to gag, wanting to talk, to bargain with him or at least get her clothes back, but deciding to keep quiet. He wouldn’t listen to her yesterday, and probably wouldn’t today, either. As long as he didn’t abuse her, she would pretend to go along with him, then wait for an opportunity to escape. That was her only hope.

When she finished eating, her mouth was taped back up and she was made to lie back down on the mattress. Her legs were tied back together, and she gave a silent prayer for that. But lying there waiting only made her mind envision all kinds of horrors that awaited her, especially when he plugged her ears back up, cutting off her main source of information.

But at least her headaches were getting less severe, and her memory was returning. She knew she was 34, had recently moved to the city from across the country, was an administrative assistant at a large corporation, made a healthy five-figure salary, and had no living relatives or current relationships. Shit! The lack of social contacts meant that her disappearance might go unnoticed for days. If only I had had time for a boyfriend or at least some friends I met with on a regular basis.

Sonny had no idea when the delivery guy was coming. He spent the time going through her smart phone and finding all about her. Not that it mattered. Her life was going to be totally different after today.

At around noon, he decided to risk leaving her and go out for lunch. The sub shop looked promising, and he went in there.

“No free handouts, buddy. Get lost.”

Sonny waved a twenty in the air, and the surly owner grudgingly took his order.

“Lunchtime.” The homeless man had removed a wad of gum and the duct tape from her mouth and propped her up in a sitting position. He cut off little pieces of turkey sub and patiently fed them to her, alternating with sips of a bottle of water.

The captive woman felt a bit of relief. At least he was feeding and treating her reasonably well, though she couldn’t help wondering what his ultimate purpose was in keeping her. And that scared her. Was he going to give or sell her to someone else? Why else would he keep her here?

After lunch, it was another pee break and then back down on the mattress. More waiting. Janine was getting frustrated. It was Saturday. She should be home at her computer, sitting in a bathrobe, sipping a latte and writing up a report for work. How long would it be before anyone missed her? And how much longer before they started looking for her? At least they could track her using the GPS on her phone. If that was even still nearby.

The delivery truck arrived shortly after three. Sonny watched from a second-story window as the driver double-checked the address, read the note on the door, and spent several minutes unloading box after box.

Sonny waited until after the truck disappeared around the corner before bringing the boxes in. With car traffic and the occasional bicyclist and pedestrian, he tried to appear as nonchalant as possible to avoid arousing suspicion. One curious individual could ruin everything.

Fortunately, no one took any undue interest in his activity, and he began cutting open boxes with a broken shard of glass, the excitement building with each new item that he brought out. The first thing he did was set up the dog cage.

The woman could sense that something was going on. She could feel movement around her, and his comment the day before about “a busy day tomorrow” echoed in her mind. He was planning something, and she needed to do something about it, but what, she didn’t know.

And then he was behind her, pulling her hair back, and she tensed up at the thought of what he was going to do a split-second before the leather collar looped around her neck and tightened. Oh, fuck, no! NO!

The duct tape over her mouth was pretty worn by now, and she forced her jaws open, ripping it painfully from her lips. He was buckling the collar tight as a scream erupted from her throat, and then a stabbing pain at her neck sent an explosion into her brain as her body spasmed uncontrollably.

Sonny waited until her body stopped jerking, then picked the gum from her ears. “What you’re wearing is a shock collar. It has a remote control and ten settings. That was Three. It goes all the way up to Ten. Think about that before trying anything like that again.”

Tears spilled from Janine’s eyes. She had never been a crybaby about much of anything, but she somehow knew that he had something evil planned for her, and she had just passed the point of no return. When she thought of all she had worked for, only to have it taken away by some nobody on the street . . .

He cut away the duct tape from her wrists and hands, then held her right arm. “Make a fist.”

The defeated woman did so, and felt it enveloped in a rubbery glove that he buckled at the wrist. Bondage mitts! Shit, no . . .

“. . . nnooooo . . . “

“Quiet! Remember what I just said, okay?”

The naked woman fell silent, hyperventilating as the other hand, and then her feet, were covered and bound in latex. He clipped something to her collar. A leash. It tightened, and she knew he was tying the other end to something. Tied up like a dog. She had no idea how right she was.

He forced her onto her stomach and straddled her back, pinning her. The butt plug needed to be lubed, but he had forgotten to order some, so he spat on it and spread it around with a finger. It would have to do. Holding it in one hand, he used the fingers of the other hand to pull her butt cheeks apart.

The captive woman went into full panic, twisting around and nearly throwing Sonny, but another jolt of the shock collar abruptly ended her resistance. Sonny waited until her body went limp before opening up her butthole and working the plug in carefully. He pushed her legs together and tied them at the top to prevent her from shitting it out.

Janine had stopped resisting, but she was seething. How dare this fucking piece of shit dress her up in bondage equipment. She was a successful professional with a high IQ, not a piece of fuckmeat for some lowlife street person.

The pain of the butt plug insertion prevented her from moving much, and the homeless man used the opportunity to fit the dog harness around her body. The woman felt something die inside her as she felt the nylon straps loop around her arms, frame her breasts, and tighten around her waist.

He tore the duct tape from her eyes, and she got a quick glimpse of a grizzled, bearded fifty-something man before he fitted the latex doggie hood over her head. When that was secured tightly, he got up and left.

The former executive looked down at her mitted hands and saw—doggie paws. The collar around her neck and the tail she could see out of the corner of her eye as she twisted her head only intensified the sick feeling that had been building in the pit of her stomach. He had turned her into a dog. Great. A homeless man with a sick fetish. And then she saw the dog cage, the dog dishes, the squeaky toys, and the box of dog biscuits, and she almost peed herself when she realized how far he was taking this thing. She got on her hands and knees, painfully aware of the paws, the collar, the hood, the butt plug tail. She was leashed to a cinder block a few feet away. And then she spotted her clothes, her expensive clothes lying in a heap on the filthy floor. Thank God he hasn’t thrown them away. If I can only get to them . . .

Sonny returned with a large jagged chunk of broken mirror and held it up to your face. “You are now my loyal little companion, and I am going to show you how hard it is to survive on the streets. You are going to perform tricks for money. I will train you, and you better be an obedient little puppy or you will go hungry. Got that?”

The transformed woman saw her doggie head and screamed, “You, motherfucker! You let me go right now or I’ll tear you a new one,” but what came out was “Arf, arf arf! Arf arf arf arf arf!” Janine was stunned. What the fuck--?!?!?!

“What you’re wearing is the Deluxe Latex Dog Hood. The soundproofed snout silences your voice and a hidden microphone translates your words into dog. You could be reciting Shakespeare, but all anybody will hear is barking.”

This time Janine did pee herself, squirting the mattress below her.

Sonny set the mirror down. “Looks like we’re not housebroken yet.” He got up and bent over her and smacked her ass hard. “BAD DOG! BAD!” He yanked back on the leash, and the trapped woman had to scurry backwards to keep from choking. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and shoved her face into the soiled mattress until she could smell the acrid stench of her pee. “NO! NO!”

Tears of humiliation spilled from her eyes. So this is how it was going to be.

“I should have named you Puddles instead of Princess. See? I had it made special just for you.”

Through the tears, the former executive could see the dog tag. Sonny clipped it to the front of her collar. It gave a tiny jingling sound from the trembling of the woman’s body.

“Whoops. You scraped your one knee there. We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Sonny leaned over and dug her padded bra out of the pile of clothes. “This should do the trick.” He propped the broken piece of mirror between his knees and ran the bra up and down the sharp edge. In less than a minute, he had separated the cups from the straps.

That was a brand-new $132 bra, shithead.

He retrieved a brand-new roll of duct tape, which he had gotten from the hardware store near the sub shop. He untied Janine’s legs and lifted one, positioned the padded, molded cup over her kneecap, and wrapped it securely in place with duct tape. He did the same with the other knee.

“There we go. Now I can take you for walks and you won’t get hurt.”

Walks--?!?!?

“Now that you’re all set, let’s start with the training.”

He picked up the box of dog biscuits and opened it. “Sit.”

Janine remained on all fours, adamant.

Sonny bent down and shoved her butt down with a hand. “Sit!”

Janine rose back up on her knees, defiant.

He held out the remote to the shock collar. “You want me to start using this again?”

Damn him! She lowered her ass back down.

“Back up.” He made an upward motion with his hand.

Janine raised her backside.

“Sit.”

She sat.

“Up. Sit. Up. Sit.”

They practiced for a good ten minutes, until the new puppygirl responded automatically, her mind numbed from the repetition.

“Good girl!” Sonny dug out a biscuit and pushed it into her mouth. Janine let it drop to the floor, the bile rising in her throat. A hand slammed into the back of her neck, forcing her head to the ground.

“EAT IT!”

Holding back her fury, the dominated woman used her tongue to work the biscuit up off the floor and into her mouth, tasting dirt along with the bitter taste of the dog treat. Slowly, she bit down on it until it broke into large pieces, and then slowly she chewed, breaking it up even more until her saliva turned it into a thick bland paste and she steeled herself as she prepared to swallow and, when she did, she almost gagged from the thought of eating food meant for a pet and not intended for human consumption. She choked the rest of it down tearfully.

Sonny patted her head. “Good girl!”

And then they practiced begging. Princess rose up on her haunches, arms bent in a dog’s begging position. They repeated this over and over until this, too, became second nature. The obedient puppygirl was rewarded with another biscuit.

She was able to chew it and swallow it without gagging this time. She knew she had to accept the fact that this was going to be her diet from now on. Canned dog food. Biscuits. Treats. Rawhide chewies. No more fancy restaurants, Chinese takeout, decadent chocolate desserts, or healthy foods from the all-natural food store.

Add to that No more designer suits, expensive lingerie, or the latest fashions in shoes. She thought back to the closet in her apartment and all the things she might never wear again. Just a naked woman on a leash obeying Master’s orders and eating chunks of meat and other food by-products. Instead of a challenging work environment, she now had squeaky toys.

“Okay, playtime.” Sonny unclipped her leash, then took a rubber ball and tossed it across the warehouse. “Fetch.”

Princess loped across the concrete floor on all fours, extremely self-conscious of her exposed tits and cunt, and hating the bondage gear that made her into an unwilling housepet. She retrieved the ball with her teeth, tasting dirt and dust along with the bitter taste of rubber. She dropped the ball at his feet, hating every minute of it and knowing this game would go on for some time.

The puppygirl did not want to count how many times she had to retrieve the ball, or what nasty things she was getting in her mouth every time she picked it up. Every time she “ran” for the ball, her eyes would gravitate toward the door twenty or thirty feet away. What was the effective range of the shock collar, and how fast could he get it out of his pocket? Could she make it in time? Would the door be locked? How would she open it with her mitted hands? And if she did get out, what then? Would she get anyone to take her seriously? She could imagine what they would see—a naked woman dressed up like a fetish dog. And she couldn’t cry out for help, either, as the fucking hood translated all her speech into barks. Would she ever live down the humiliation afterwards? Damn him. Damn him. Why did people like him live in this world, anyway?

When Sonny got tired of tossing the ball, he clipped her leash back on. “Do we have to go poopies?”

Princess realized with frustration that she actually did have to defecate. She said, “Yes, I do,” which was turned into “Arf, arf arf.”

She allowed him to lead her to the back of the warehouse. They exited a door, and Princess found herself looking out over a large abandoned field, completely cut off from the outside world by large brick walls.

“Okay, go,” said the homeless man, snapping her leash.

How was she going to go with that thing in her ass? The puppygirl squatted anyway, hoping she could push it out. She looked up at her captor, and saw he was looking down at her. Is this one of your things, too, sicko? Watching women poop?

It took several minutes for her to do her business, and she was shocked and frustrated to find that the thing in her ass was still there. What the fuck--?

He patted her on the head. “Good girl. Good girl!” The captive woman felt her anger spike. She hated being treated like this.

He led her back inside and over to the cage. “In.” Princess hesitated, and a gentle kick in the ass got her to crawl into her small metal prison. She watched as he passed the leash through the metal bars, then took out a small padlock and hooked it around the handle of the leash and one of the bars before locking it. He tossed a few of her toys in before he closed the door and secured that with a padlock, too. There was no way to escape now, and the homeless man knew that she knew it.

“I’m going to get dinner. Be a good girl now.”

Sonny turned and left. Princess knelt in her cage in the corner of the giant warehouse, completely unable to do anything about her condition. Nobody would even think to look for her here. Hell, except for the homeless guy, nobody had probably set foot in here for years. What if something happened to her captor? She could die of starvation in a tiny cage in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of a city of millions.

She heard the faint sound of a familiar tune, and realized it was her cell phone in the office not far away. Was it work? What day was it, anyway? The puppygirl was unnerved to learn that she was beginning to lose track of time.

It seemed to take forever for him to get back, and she began to wonder if time passed more slowly for dogs than it did for people. Maybe it did because they had nothing to do. She looked down and saw her squeaky toys. A rolled-up newspaper, a ball, a mailman. She lay down as best she could and picked up the toy newspaper in her mouth. Well, it was better than nothing. She chewed.

Squeak. Squeak squeak. Squeak . . .

Sonny came back with a large bag that smelled of Chinese food. Princess got to her feet and spit out the chew toy. Food! Her stomach began to grumble.

The homeless man set the bag down on the ground and went over to release her from her cage. She could barely contain her excitement. “Arf! Arf arf arf arf arf!”

“Calm down, girl. I’ll get you fed in a minute, okay?” He let her out, and Princess waited patiently for her food.

Sonny brought a wooden crate over, and set her food and water dishes on it. “Dinner time.” The disheartened puppygirl watched as he opened up a can of dog food, dumped it into one of the dishes, and filled her water dish from a bottle of water. He then sat down on another wooden crate and dug into the bag.

The disheartened puppygirl could smell the mouth-watering odors of the Chinese food as she looked down at the disgusting lumps of brown whatever in her bowl. She looked up at her master pleadingly and whined.

He stopped, a forkful of sweet-and-sour chicken halfway to his mouth. “Eat up, and maybe you’ll get some leftovers.”

Unable to negotiate, Princess decided she had no choice but to accept his offer. She opened her mouth, lowered her head, and bit down. It was all she could do to keep from puking.

As expected, there were no leftovers. Princess was left with the foul taste of dog food in her mouth, which drinking two bowls of water couldn’t completely eliminate (she had to pull the water dish to the edge of the crate and tilt it, letting the water run into her mouth). Plus all that water gave her a full bladder. She faced the back door and barked.

“Do we have to piddle?”

He took her leash and led her outside, where she squatted in the grass, feeling totally humiliated. No privacy, no modern facilities, no ability to clean herself. When she finished, he patted her on the head. “Good girl. Good girl!”

She wished he wouldn’t do that. She trotted back into the warehouse, her crotch still wet.

He had cleared a space in the corner of the warehouse and laid out a large blanket. It was here that he continued her training—sit up, beg, roll over, play dead, wag her tail. Though it probably went on for no more than an hour, to the former businesswoman it was an eternity. It was a relief when he put her back in her cage.

The cage he had relocated to the office, at the foot of the mattress where he slept. She watched him, fuming, as he lay there and scrolled through the information on her phone. He turned to look at her.

“I got you some nice toys to play with. Let’s hear you play with your new toys.”

Her anger fizzled away. He was in control now, and there was nothing she could do about it. Princess picked up a soft rubber ball in her mouth and began working her jaws disinterestedly. Squeak squeak squeak squeak . . .

“Good girl!”

The taste of rubber was almost pleasant as it displaced the nasty after-taste of the dog food. She chewed until her jaws ached and she got a headache from the annoying squeak of the toy. She now understood why dogs ripped their toys apart. Maybe she should do the same. With a fierce determination, she gripped the ball between her paws, bit down, and whipped her head from side to side. She gave up after a few minutes her jaws sore. She needed something to occupy her mind. Something that wasn’t pointless and destructive.

A few hours later, he opened her cage and coaxed her out. He clipped the leash onto her collar, then pulled out a box of band aids. The puppygirl was puzzled until he peeled open a circular one, gripped a breast in one hand, and pressed it over the nipple. She cringed and instinctively jerked away as his rough hand encircled her soft globe of flesh, but he held on. He did the same with the other breast, so that she now wore a pair of makeshift pasties. What the hell is he doing now? She thought. He began throwing some of her toys, rawhide chewies, and doggie treats into a plastic shopping bag, then tossed in an empty plastic coffee container that had a large slit cut into the plastic lid. He went over to the blanket, which he rolled up and tucked under one arm. Princess watched all of this with a growing uneasiness.

He took her out back, where he had her pee again. She didn’t really have to go, but she forced herself to anyway, as she felt he had something planned and didn’t want to be inconvenienced later on. The fact that he had gave her an uneasy feeling.

And then he set everything down and dropped down behind her, his legs keeping her legs apart. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he wiped her dry with a dirty rag. She was grateful for his concern for her hygiene until she heard a ripping sound. As she struggled to free herself, he stuck a large, hand-sized bandage between her legs and pressed it into place, sealing off her cunt. It hit her like a brick: He was taking her out in public!

This fear was confirmed when he took her over to a child’s old wooden wagon and had her climb in. Posts with horizontal slats penned her in from the front and sides. Sonny stuffed the bag of toys in with her, covered her in the blanket, looped her leash around the handle, and they were off.

Princess remained on all fours, a nearly-naked pet pulled along like a caged circus animal, constantly shifting to keep her balance, her hanging tits jiggling with each bump. She did not want to even speculate on where he was taking her.

Princess never felt fear like she felt when he navigated his way through dark alleys and vacant lots. She was completely vulnerable if anybody appeared and decided to do something.

But that was before she saw where they were going. As they turned the corner around a building, she saw the bright lights of Commerce Street. Her limbs turned to jelly. It was the theater district, full of theaters, bars, trendy cafes and eateries, and small specialty shops. A whimper of fear escaped from her throat.

Sonny bent down. “If we don’t make fifty bucks tonight, you go hungry.” He held up the remote for the shock collar as a reminder.

They emerged onto the street and Princess ducked her head to make herself less visible. The few people walking by barely noticed her. Sonny stopped at a vacant lot.

He pulled the wagon into the darkness under a tree, then took her blanket and laid it out on the ground near the sidewalk. The puppygirl got goosebumps despite the warm night air.

“C’mon, girl.” Sonny jerked the leash, and Princess climbed reluctantly out of the wagon. She was trembling as she walked over to the blanket on all fours. She saw several pairs of feet, and heard a gasp, then a few giggles.

“Sit up and beg, girl.”

Tears clouded her eyes as she sat back on her haunches and held her arms up against her upper body like a dog begging.

Most people hurried by, too embarrassed or shocked to acknowledge her presence, but some stopped, laughing and joking at her humiliation.

Sonny thrust the coffee can out. “Help feed my puppy. Please give so that she doesn’t go hungry.” He turned to Princess. “Speak, girl. Tell ‘em you need your Kibbles ‘n’ Bits.”

Princess let out some half-hearted barks, which brought a few more bucks.

“Have her do some tricks,” sneered a sharp-dressed man.

“Sure thing. Princess, roll over.”

The leashed and naked woman dropped down and rolled on the blanket.

“Good girl! Now sit up. Speak.”

She sat back up. “Arf! Arf!”

This got a round of applause from the eight or nine people who had now gathered around. More people stopped, curious to see what all the commotion was about.

Sonny took out a doggie treat and held it shoulder-high. “Jump!”

The puppygirl jumped, painfully aware of her almost-naked body being displayed in public, and especially of her nearly-bare tits bouncing freely as she leaped for the treat. She missed, of course, and he made her jump twice more before he pushed the treat into her mouth. Princess chewed and swallowed the bitter-tasting snack as her audience cheered.

“Can we play with her?” asked a tattooed girl in her twenties with violet hair.

“Sure thing. Five bucks.”

The girl turned to her boyfriend, who shelled out. Sonny pulled out a ball and tossed it to the girl. The girl, barely containing her laughter, tossed it to Princess.

Princess tried to catch it in her mouth, but missed, knocking it back to the girl. The girl picked it up, brushed it off, and held it up.

“Try harder now. Catch.”

This time, with the use of her paws, Princess caught the ball.

“Yay! Now bring it here.”

Princess trotted over and dropped the ball at her feet.

The girl chuckled and patted her on the head. “You’re such a good little puppy, aren’t you?” she cooed.

The captive woman just wanted to die. If only she could turn back time and redo the events of that night. The girl played catch with her a few more times before her boyfriend persuaded her that they should go.

“Anyone else? Five bucks.”

Princess played catch and tug-of-war a few times with her toys, had to sit up, roll over, beg, play dead, and wag her tail, and even had people toss her scraps of food from doggie bags and take-out containers which, if she didn’t catch in her mouth, she had to eat off the ground.

And then the crowd scattered. Princess’ heart filled with hope as she saw a police cruiser sitting in the street right in front of them.

A big, beefy officer climbed out of the vehicle and strolled over. “What do we have here? Panhandling is against the law, you know.” He looked down at Princess, a scowl darkening his face.

“Oh, we’re not panhandling, officer. We’re performance artists. C’mon, Princess, show the policeman what you do.”

“Help me. Please help me!” yelled the puppygirl. Unfortunately, it came out as “Arf arf! Arf arf arf!”

Sonny snapped her leash, and she had no choice but to perform for the cop as he looked on disapprovingly.

“She’s properly covered, too, so we’re not breaking any indecent exposure laws.”

The officer sighed, hands on hips. “Well, all right. Just as long as you don’t cause a big scene, okay? But if we get any more complaints you’re gonna have to move on.”

“No problem, officer. We don’t want to cause any trouble.”

The puppygirl watched with a sinking feeling as the officer turned and went back to his cruiser. Her best shot at freedom was now gone. She could only hope that he—or anyone--would connect her with the missing administrative assistant and rescue her. With all the ones who had seen her, somebody was bound to help.

Sonny had found a take-out bag with a half-eaten burger and fries in it lying on the ground. Princess watched with horror as he brushed the ants off the burger and tore off a piece for her to eat. She had to fight the revulsion as he shoved chunk after chunk of cold bland beef patty and stale bread into her mouth. The cold fries were even worse, and almost made her gag.

A few people stopped and watched him feed her, so Sonny held up the coffee can. “Please donate so my puppy doesn’t have to eat discarded food.” He got a few more dollars this way.

Princess was forced to perform for another thirty or forty minutes before her homeless owner loaded her back into the wagon and covered her. The half-dozen or so people groaned and voiced their disappointment.

“Sorry, folks, but she’s getting tired. We’ll be back tomorrow night, though.”

We’ll be back tomorrow night. The words hovered over her like the blade of a guillotine. She was going to have to humiliate herself night after night for less money than she used to make for working just a few minutes at her job. Please please let someone recognize me and free me.

The ride home was a relief, if only temporary, as she knew he was never going to let her act as a fully-functioning human being for as long as he held her. Back at the warehouse, he peeled the band-aid off her pussy (thank God she was mostly shaved) and had her pee again before taking her inside and locking her back in her cage.

Sonny sat in the office chair and opened up the coffee can. He dumped the money on the desk and looked at the small pile of bills and scattered change. He nodded in approval. “We did pretty good tonight, girl. Let’s keep it up, okay?”

The puppygirl wanted to kill him. It probably wasn’t even enough to get a meal at a good restaurant. She picked up a rubber toy in her teeth and tore at it in frustration. Sonny left and came back a little while later with a box of donuts and a bottle of beer. He ate dinner and fell asleep in the chair.

Princess lay curled up on the floor of her cramped cage, feeling miserable, her bare flesh pressing against the cold steel wire of the enclosure. Somehow, she managed to sleep.

Morning, it was outside for another pee, breakfast of water and dry nuggets (which were starting to taste good after the crap she was fed last night), and then bath time.

He took her to the washroom, where he tied her leash to the pipe under the sink and then used an old rag and bottled water to wash her down as she stood on all fours on the broken, filthy tiles of the floor. The water was ice cold, and he scrubbed her roughly, but she took it, as she knew it was going to be the only chance she got of getting clean.

Back in the office, Sonny looped one of the padlocks through a cage bar and the end of her leash, limiting her movement to the length of the leash. He emptied her bag of toys and chewies on the floor and patted her on the head.

“Daddy has to go out for a while. You stay here and play with your toys, okay?”

Princess heard the door lock after him, and knew she was trapped. With her doggie hood and paws, freeing herself was out of the question. So this is how dogs feel when they’re left home alone all day. She picked up a rawhide chewie in her mouth, lay down on the hard floor, and began to chew, her mind shutting down to avoid depression.

With virtually nothing to do all day, small events became big events: his return, being taken outside to piddle or poop, meals, even playtime. Even belly rubs were welcome, and Princess would roll over on her back to signal him that she wanted one. She became dependent on him, and saw with alarm that she was becoming devoted to him. It was like she was being brainwashed, and there was nothing she could do about it.

And then came the dreaded time when he loaded up her stuff and coaxed her into the wagon. They made the long, circuitous journey to the vacant lot. Once more, the puppygirl had to perform for and play with a small audience of strangers. She looked up at faces, hoping to recognize a co-worker or acquaintance, but would anyone recognize her? She was naked and her face was covered. She had no tattoos or other identifying marks. She couldn’t speak or alert anyone in any way. The police did not return. It was as if she were trapped in plain sight.

Night after night, the crowds grew, until the sidewalk was nearly impassable. It was the fifth night that they were approached by a young man with a ponytail, piercings, and tattoos all over his arms.

“Excuse me, but we own the avant-garde theater down the street, and we were wondering if you could do your act in our performance hall? We love it—it’s edgy and kinky and just the kind of thing we’re looking for.”

And so the next night saw them in a small room, surrounded by an audience in folding chairs. Princess had to work harder at being a playful puppy, running around the crowd with a toy in her mouth and barking happily. Unfortunately, inside the theater, he could take off her band-aids, so that she was now completely naked. The puppygirl decided to push the envelope by peeing on the floor.

Much to her dismay, this had the effect of making her act more popular, and she was required to do it at least once a night, whereupon Sonny would shove her face in it, yell at her, and swat her on the behind. And when an audience member grabbed a quick feel of one of her tits, she bit him in the leg. This also increased her popularity, and Sonny added to the act by getting a wire-cage muzzle to put over her mouth when she did that.

There were suggestions to make the act even more outrageous, twisted things that made Princess scared and nauseous, but thankfully they weren’t incorporated into the performance. As it was, there were protests by feminists outside the theater, but they were ineffective and soon went away.

He taught her to jump in the air and catch a Frisbee, to dance around in circles while in a half-squat, and to bark out answers to questions (“How much is two plus two?” “Arf arf arf arf.”)

Princess was getting used to the routine humiliation, but at night, locked in her cage, her mind would drift back to her former life, and she would get sad. Her memory was still a bit fragmentary from the head injury sustained in her mugging, and it was now getting fuzzy with the passage of time. How long would it take before she was 100% puppy?

Princess knew that Sonny was making money off her. Not a lot, but enough to make his life more comfortable. He bought clothes, ate better, and even opened a bank account. The puppygirl, however, saw no improvement in her life. She still ate crappy dog food, had a dozen toys to play with, and still slept in her cage. The only thing that changed was that he paid more attention to her—petting her, talking to her, grooming her, taking her for more walks. At least he didn’t beat or abuse her. But then, he didn’t have to, as he had total control over her.

Her initial hopes of being recognized and freed had faded away after a few weeks. Did no one even care who she was outside of her puppy persona? She was apparently nothing more than just another amusement for jaded city-dwellers.

Even that didn’t last. After a few months, their act was getting stale, and attendance dropped off. They were once more out on the streets, performing for spare change. But even this barely earned them much anymore.

Just when Princess thought things couldn’t get any worse, the unthinkable happened. Late one night, she was suddenly awakened by a crash. Sonny had already jumped out of bed. “What the hell--?”

He ran out of the room, and the puppygirl lay in her bed in the darkness, the fear escalating with every second. There was a moment of silence, and then the sounds of a scuffle, followed by the sounds of a beating, and then silence again.

Footsteps approached, several of them. No! No! Don’t let them come in here!

But the door opened, and large menacing figures gathered around her cage. Princess could smell sweat and cologne and marijuana. She cowered, praying they would not do anything too horrible to her.

“That’s her.”

Two of the invaders bent down and picked up her cage. The puppygirl kept perfectly still, afraid that any activity on her part would have terrible consequences.

Outside, she was loaded into the back of an SUV. Her abductors got in the passenger seats and, to the accompaniment of rap music and marijuana, they headed out into the urban depths.

Princess is now a guard dog at a drug house. She is kept chained up on the front porch, wearing only a thick leather jeweled collar. She sleeps in a large cardboard box with a blanket, with only her toys and chewies for entertainment. She is fed premium dog food, and she is taken for daily walks around the neighborhood so that her new owners can show her off proudly to the other residents. Everyone watches and laughs as she relieves herself on trees and front lawns. The women who drop by treat her the worst, making her beg for scraps of food or chase after her thrown toys all day. Sometimes she is made to perform for the drug dealer’s friends or the neighbors, but mostly her days are spent sitting naked on the porch, completely bored. She hopes that some day a police raid will free her, but knows that this is little more than a dim possibility.

THE END

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29.09.17