Life as a Bitch

There were certain things in life that seemed to have a strange effect on those who were aware of their existence and importance, but at the same time not actually required to come into contact with them on a daily basis and the New York subway system was without doubt one of them. It had only been a few days since Ellie had read an article on the subject written by a journalist from back home, stopping over in the city before hopping onto a plane back across the Atlantic. The woman had somehow managed to stumble upon a fairy tale version of the subway that she described as a place where the highest and lowest of New York society rubbed shoulders because of a shared need to travel from one side of the city to the other. For her it had been a fascinating place which put on show the strata of different folk who lived on the same island and would never otherwise have come into contact with one another.

Ellie liked to think that the woman would have had a more cynical view of the place if she had to ride the subway twice daily and endure the unique torture that it was capable of throwing up on a regular basis.

She had often wondered if there was a particular breed of mental degenerate that actually lived on the subway full time, slowly evolving into a unique subspecies of humanity that never left the tunnels and gave up on the light of day. But perhaps it was more believable that such people were in fact in the pay of the authorities responsible for the subway, hired as a secret army of repulsive specimens with the sole purpose of making sure that no one wanted to hang around longer than they had to and so see the decay that was evident beneath the streets and lodge an irritating complaint.

Ellie could almost handle the ranters and the ravers.

The fumblers and flashers were worse, but there was always the chance of escape at the next station.

But it was the silent and the sinister that really made her flesh crawl.

Those individuals with whom she was hard pressed to define the quality that marked them as unnerving rather than simply odd in an innocent manner. They seldom said or did anything that could have been singled out as definitive proof of their status as a weirdo, but they were always there, giving her that uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched for some reason she was sure she did not want to discover.

That night in particular was no exception, the eyes of the man in question darting away in an attempt to disguise his interest for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had sat a little way down the carriage from her seat. The man made no attempt to hide behind a crumpled newspaper or glance at a mobile, instead he divided his attention between staring at her when she was not looking and the blank window of the carriage when she was.

He was nothing exceptional to look at, but then they seldom stood out from the crowd on account of having two heads. There was also the fact that although he was wearing a sorry looking overcoat, so many people did that it was by no means the uniform of the entrenched pervert that it had once been.

Had she been just a little less tired and weary from the exertions of the day and on her way home to something more welcoming than an apartment that her unemployed housemate kept as clean as a forgotten dumpster, she would not have been in the slightest bit bothered by the furtive stares that she was receiving. In fact there was a small part of Ellie’s more rebellious mind that was flattered by the fact that she was considered worth the effort to which the weirdo was going. No matter how bad things might have seemed at any given time, at least she could rest assured that she had not fallen so far as to be beneath the consideration of the common subway lunatic.

As it was, she felt irritable and rather less than charitable towards his kind right there and then, bolstered in her resolve by the fact that she was only minutes from her stop and the thought of the fresh canister of mace sitting nestled between her purse and compact, just waiting to grace the features of the lowlife who pushed her that little bit too far.

Ellie was up and out of her seat as soon as the train came to a halt, pressing through the crowd as she made it to the platform amongst the usual sea of humanity. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that her weirdo had decided to disembark as well, following as best he could in her wake. Not that the sight worried her in the slightest, there being far too many people on the platform to make the prospect of reaching her hard enough let alone the reaction that a sudden scream from a sturdy young woman with a head of flaming red hair would elicit from those surrounding them.

As she was swept along with the rush, Ellie indulged her curiosity with another look back, just to see where her erstwhile shadow had made it to. At first she could not pick him out, but then the turning and bobbing of heads brought him into view. Despite the press of the crowd he was now closer than he had been before, no more than a few feet away although the distance might as well have been miles for all the good it would do him.

This was not the first time she had been followed by a strange man in New York and judged against the normal standards, this was a below average character when it came to the signs that made her afraid on the streets. Ellie tried to ignore the thought of him behind her and instead plunged onwards towards the stairs that would lead her up and onto the street and so one step closer to home.

It was on the first landing that she felt the sudden sensation of something piercing her skin.

There was no time to turn her head and so little pain from the jab that she hardly reacted at all before her thoughts began to taper away and she lost track of which direction she was supposed to be going.

Ellie’s legs gave out beneath her as she tried to speak, numb lips able to do nothing more than produce a string of sounds that might have been mistaken as easily for nonsense as for words. The faces of her fellow commuters swam and ran into one another as the sound of their voices became nothing more than a confusing wall of noise. She was only aware of the fact that she was falling in the most distant of ways, the descent from her own feet seeming to stretch into a period of time that could have been infinite for all she knew.

But the ground never came up to meet her, hands gripping her beneath the arms and arresting her fall as they fought to pull her back to a vertical position though her legs were as limp as boiled spaghetti, refusing to take her weight for even a second.

“Damn,” there were voices speaking over her, “is she okay, man?”

“It look worse than it is,” some were almost close enough to feel the breath that carried them, “she gets these all the time.”

“You need me to call someone,” she could hear the words, though the meaning escaped her, “a doctor or something?”

“No,” did this voice belong to the person holding her? “She has injections for the condition…Look, she was trying to jab herself with this one just before she swooned.”

“Well,” something inside Ellie felt panicked as the more distant voice seemed to move away even further, “if you say she’s fine, then I guess that’s that.”

“Don’t worry,” Ellie felt herself being braced against someone’s body, “she’d be mortified to know she passed out in front of all these people. She’ll be fine as soon as I get her home and put her to bed.”

The next thing she could be sure of was the harsh light of a side tunnel shining down on her as a face looked over her. She recognised the face of the stranger from the train, his grey eyes studying her intently while his thin face remained neutral.

A moment later the face was gone, replaced by a confused procession of light and dark, punctuated by glimpses of familiar sights that should have made sense, but were rendered into a chaotic kaleidoscope of images moving too quickly for her mind to make sense of. It was all too much for her to take and for that moment at least, her senses succumbed to the confusion and she lost all conception of the world around her.

It would not have been accurate to say that Ellie awoke, but more honest to describe the nauseating process by which she became aware of her surroundings as a gradual regaining of equilibrium and balance. Little by little the bombarding of her senses became less intense and she was able to claw back some small part of the ability to make sense of the information that they were taking in.

Not that there was anything dramatic to behold once she was able to do so, as she found herself staring up at a grey ceiling of bare concrete. She could make out strip lighting that accounted for the light in the room, but no matter how she tried, she was unable to move her eyes to take in more of the uninspiring view.

Her sense of panic began to grow as she tried and failed next to move her head, followed by neck, arms and legs. No matter the effort she expended, no muscle in her body would as much as twitch at her command. Ellie fought to control herself, to stop her mind from being filled with the darkest thoughts possible. There had to be something more than a featureless view of concrete and the inability to move, those two things could not be the entirety of her world.

As she tried to think rationally, she became aware of the chill that was seeping into her from below, numbing her and almost distracting her from the all too immediate horror of her situation. It was bad enough that her limbs remained motionless, but now the feeling was slowly being drained from them as the cold sank into her flesh.

That was it, she thought in a moment of relief, there would have been no sensing the cold had she been truly paralysed. Whatever was keeping her from moving had not dulled her ability to be aware of and feel her limbs. And if there was an outside force keeping her from moving, then there was also the hope that it could be overcome.

But as soon as her hopes were raised of regaining the ability to move, the reality of what had happened to her dawned upon Ellie. She recalled the stranger pursuing her through the crowd, the sudden sensation of being pierced with a sharp object and the distant conversation that followed in a new light. The man who had caught her as she fell claiming to be a friend, explaining it all as a medical condition and even having a syringe at hand to prove his claims. It was all becoming clear to her as she lay there, unable to move. The man must have injected her with something that was responsible for her state of helplessness, passing the needle he had used off as medication that she had been supposedly trying to administer herself only moments before.

Ellie reasoned that from there the man must have carried her away from the crowded subway station and brought her here, wherever here was.

But the question that really scared her was why.

There was only one door to the room and it opened to admit the figure of a man who was heard before seen thanks to the form-fitting suit of latex that covered him from head to toe. The rubber was black and concealed the features of his face beneath a hood pierced only by holes for his eyes and the barest of slits to accommodate his breathing. These were barely adequate as he entered the room with his blood pumping and his excitement piqued, so that his breath sounded in ragged gasps, only serving to add to his disturbing appearance.

He was glad to be clad in the suit once more, feeling that it was more like a real skin to him than the one it covered. When forced to be outside of the space he called his home and deprived of his true skin he was vulnerable and ordinary, but now that he was back in his own environment there was nothing for him to fear.

Indeed, now he was the one to be feared.

Within these walls he was exceptional, a man to be obeyed and regarded as the master of all he surveyed. It was a title that he had grown fond of and one that he aspired to, something he wanted very much to be in the eyes of others.

And now he had the perfect opportunity to do just that.

He smiled beneath his mask as he laid eyes upon the form of the woman sprawled on the bare metal table in the centre of the room. There was no sense of urgency in his movements as he knew very well the effect the cocktail of drugs he had injected into her right buttock would have upon her and how long she would remain as limp as a ragdoll. The knowledge that she could see and hear him perfectly as he stood over her was almost as thrilling to him as the thought of what he intended to do with her while she was helpless.

“I suppose you think you’re pretty clever,” Ellie recognised the voice from the subway station despite the anonymous features of the mask, the harsh edge of a Brooklyn accent shaping the words. “You must think you’re smarter than the average guy on the street to have been able to pull the wool over their eyes for so long.”

For a second, Ellie was forced to wonder if the effect of the drugs that had fogged her mind had receded as far as she thought. She heard every word the masked man said to her, but there was no way she could turn them that made any sense.

What was he talking about?

The very real possibility that she was in the clutches of an even bigger lunatic than she had at first suspected loomed in her mind, but she pushed it aside to listen once more as the man was speaking again.

“I know you can’t answer me,” he shook his head. “But that’s just the point, you shouldn’t be able to speak up for yourself at all, now should you? You might be clever and full of tricks like that, but you don’t fool me. I’m not like a regular Joe, I got bitten when I was really young, bitten so badly that I just can’t be fooled by your kind anymore.”

The man was getting more animated as he spoke, prodding and poking Ellie in the chest at the same time.

“You wear the clothes well and you learned to walk on your hind legs,” he started to yank her coat off, pulling it from her arms and then out from beneath her. “But I know that under it all you’re just a regular dog that got smart and I’m going to have to teach you to be obedient like any other canine with ideas above its station.”

He thinks I’m a dog, Ellie was almost unable to mentally digest his words, he actually thinks that I’m a dog passing myself off as a human being. That was enough to convince her that the man was truly insane, filling her with trepidation as to just what he was planning to do with her now that she was within his power and helpless.

“We can start by learning the right way to refer to one another,” by this time he had cast her coat away and was busy unzipping her boots. “All those fake cards and IDs in your purse had ‘Ellie’ all over them. I suppose that’s not your real name, but I suppose it’s not all that presumptuous for a dog in the grand scheme of things. So that’s what I’ll call you.”

He tossed her boots over his shoulder and returned to the end of the table upon which her head lay, eyes fixed on the tight top she wore, revealed now her coat had been removed. Black in colour and made of a material that was opaque, the garment resembled the tights that covered her legs. Her breasts could be seen clearly beneath it, their notable size contained by a suitably sturdy bra. Unlike the rest of her rather conservative clothes, the sheer top was a small act of rebellion by which Ellie attempted to make a point of the pride she took in her larger figure, but now it seemed lost in the helpless nature of her situation.

“You’d be calling me master,” the man spoke as he pulled the top up and over her head, “if you were allowed to speak, of course. You won’t be, but that’s the title that you should use when thinking about me. It’ll be better for you the sooner you get used to the idea of just obeying your master and doing as you’re told. But I expect you’ll need to be disciplined along the way, like most dogs do.”

The Master, Ellie could not help but attach the title to him now that he had mentioned it, was intent upon his task now and working faster. He unclipped her bra, allowing her breasts to fall on either side of her chest as she began to feel the cold of the metal more fully on her newly naked back. Her denim skirt was the next to go, leaving her wearing only tights and panties and they lasted no more than a few short seconds.

Now that she was naked, the chill in the air was as painfully apparent to her as that of the table beneath her. Ellie’s breath shuddered slightly and she was sure that but for the effects of the drugs she would have been shivering with the cold. How the Master seemed to ignore the temperature in the room she could not begin to guess.

Suddenly she felt an even more acute sensation of cold between her legs, as though something wet and freezing had gripped her most intimate parts. She caught the briefest glimpse of a safety razor and then the caress of its edge as the Master shaved the hair from her groin, leaving it smooth and bald. He made to attempt to speak as he went, attending instead to his task in the same manner one might have groomed an animal with no thought for the object of his attentions whatsoever.

Once she was shaved and clean, the Master produced a pair of rubber shorts that he pulled over her feet and up her legs. They were a tight fit by the time they reached her groin, squeezing her flesh mercilessly, but he did not stop until they were in place. From there he probed her with the index and middle fingers of his right hand, guiding into her vagina and then anus the sheaths and tubing that would allow her to function in every important manner without removing the shorts.

Ellie felt the urge to twitch and protest as his fingers ventured inside her, but there was no way that she could resist or even show her displeasure. Once they had been removed she was left with a feeling that was unlike anything she had experienced before, a sense of having been simply taken and used with no thought for her own status as a human being. She would not have equated that feeling to rape, but in light of the manner in which the Master had been referring to her as a dog and lambasting her pretensions of humanity, she was almost sure that the experience would not be unique while she was in his power and the thought only added to her sense of dread.

In the time that she had been trying to digest his casual probing of her body, the Master had left the side of the table and returned with a far larger garment that while made of the same rubber, was visibly of a size to cover most of her body. She could see that the majority of the surface was white in colour, with smaller patches of brown in a random pattern that put her in mind more than anything else of the fur of an animal despite the smooth texture of the latex from which it was made.

He wasted no time in dressing her with the new garment, legs first so that her feet emerged from the bottom of the suit and their length was soon covered by a layer of rubber so tight that she began to lose the feeling that the drugs had left to her. The Master did not stop to ponder what he was doing, instead he pressed on until the suit reached her waist and then stretched it over her stomach as well. Ellie was not a thin woman, so the curving shape of her body was soon reflected in the way the thing stretched and clung to her thighs and belly.

Her heavy breasts required individual attention, as each was lifted with a hand and fitted into the sheaths on the front of the suit designed to accommodate them. Once they were slipped inside, they filled the space so completely that might have been shaped of rubber rather than simply coated by it. Even her nipples were recreated in the latex, now hard and erect in the cold of the room so that they stood out clearly.

Ellie's arms went into the sleeves as quickly as had her legs and the next moment she found herself turned onto her belly. She could see nothing, but from the pressure creeping up her back she was able to surmise that the suit was being closed up from the base of her spine to the back of her skull. Almost the very same second the high collar was pulled together, the cold that had been chilling her to the bone was replaced with a rapidly growing heat. It built from almost nothing to an intense burning in no more than a few minutes and she could not begin to guess what the cause was as she suffered in silence throughout.

“This may not be your real skin,” the Master was away from the table again, his back turned as he prepared what she thought would doubtless be some new form of torture. “But it's more honest than the one you've been wearing for a while now. I think that if you look like a dog, live like a dog and are treated like one then maybe you'll be cured of this delusion that you're anything more than a dog. Not that you really have a choice in the matter, the adhesive inside that suit is just about cured by now and it's not coming off without the skin underneath unless you have a degree in chemistry to cook up the solvent to melt it.”

Ellie was no expert on the subject, but she knew without any further explanation what he was talking about. More and more she wanted to scream out as yet another element was added to the list of indignities that she was being forced to endure. She was being effectively mutilated by a seeming madman and now he had sealed her inside a rubber suit, intent upon making her believe his own delusion that she was not a human being but a dog in need of being reminded of the fact.

She heard the Master return to the table and then felt his hands seize her once more to turn her onto her back. She was able to see the items he had brought with him as her head flopped to one side and the sight of them made her heart sink even further. There were six in total, each one looking like a bodily feature that was present in a canine and yet absent in a human being, a fact that it seemed was about to be remedied in her own case.

He went first to the bottom of the table, where he slipped a pair of what could have been mistaken for boots over her bare feet. But once they were in place and Ellie again felt the building heat of the adhesive that had fused the suit to her body, it was clear that they were intended to resemble the hind paws of a dog. Long and rigid, they would force her to walk almost on tiptoe and so mimic the gait of a canine when she moved.

Next were her hands, lost beneath a pair of gloves that bore no fingers. Ellie was left with her digits curled in the centre of them, unable to spread them in any way. Worse she realised the implication as the same heat spread inside of them, understanding that she would also be denied the use of her hands as anything other than blunt implements upon which she might walk or make a pathetic pawing through the thick, rigid rubber.

There was a thankful moment of respite as she was turned onto her side and what seemed to be a long tail was clipped to the base of her spine. She had only caught a glimpse of the thing, but it had been of a shade so close to that of her own hair that she was almost convinced that it had been made from the locks on her scalp while she was deprived of her senses.

But if the boots and gloves that had transformed her extremities into paws scared her, the headpiece that the Master now lifted from the table was simply terrifying. It seemed to be a reproduction in rubber, almost down to the last detail of a dog’s head. She could not have named the breed although the long brown muzzle put her in mind of a hound she had seen in more than one film when she was a child. The name escaped her, but the thought that she was about to become a rubberised rendering of the animal was almost too much to bear.

She would have little time to contemplate the issues though, as he brought the thing down over her head and temporarily blotted out the light. Ellie could do nothing as he worked the headpiece down to her shoulders, the light returning only when her own eyes were perfectly level with the holes within the mask itself.

Ellie stared down the length of the muzzle, for the first time seeing it from within. There was something pressing on the inside of her mouth and she almost gagged when the Master grabbed the two halves of the muzzle and worked the jaws of the mask. She felt something inside the rubber work her own jaw in response and could only conclude that the whole thing was designed to move in concert with her lower face.

There was no more than a few seconds in which to contemplate the implications of the mask however as she was suddenly aware of a painful sensation on the top of her head. Soon it was followed by another and then yet more as they began to settle into a discernible pattern across her scalp. The truth of what was happening only became apparent to her when a lock of her bright red hair fell over her eyes and she realised that it was being drawn through holes in the top of the mask. Soon her vision was framed by the familiar sight of red hair and she was left wondering why, when he had wanted to convince her that she was a dog, the Master was going to such pains to ensure that elements of her humanity showed through the costume in which he was trapping her. In that moment she had no way to guess what the reason might have been, but she was sure there must be more it than the crazed whim of random insanity.

When it appeared that he was finally done with her hair, Ellie felt the Master's hands reach around her neck and fasten something in place. It had the feel of a choker or necklace of some kind, but based on what had been done to her already, she almost certain that she knew what it in fact was.

Drugged and abducted in front of dozens of her fellow commuters, sealed from head to toe in rubber, transformed from a woman into a bizarre blending of woman and animal, Ellie felt herself being lifted from the table and into the Master's arms.

She had no way to know what lay in store for her or where she was being taken, but as he carried her from the room there was a fleeting chance for her to catch sight of her reflection in a mirror that leant against the wall.

Familiar eyes stared out at her from the face of a rubber dog, made all the more confusing and unsettling by the all too human locks that spilled from its head and down to its shoulders.

Around the dog's neck was a leather collar from which hung a name tag.

And engraved on the tag was the name: 'Ellie'.

If being mute witness to the process of becoming a rubber dog had been torture, the actual reality of being forced to live as such was a more akin to being condemned to hell. Ellie felt the effects of the drugs ebbing away to nothing only after the Master had deposited her inside a large metal cage that she soon realised was a crate intended to keep a dog from roaming around and allow them out only when a human willed it.

Though the ability to move had returned to her body, she was not returning to the body that she had known. Ellie found that the rubber suit in which she was trapped brought with it a unique set of issues and problems, though she was sure that each one was deliberate and intended to amuse her captor.

While she could see relatively well out of the eye holes in her mask, her other senses were dulled by the layers of latex between them and the outside world. The ears that now sat on top of her head were no more than rigid rubber shapes, her own hearing reduced to a vague impression of the sounds around her in a way that seemed to distance her yet further from reality. There was also little scope for her sense of smell, which struck her as odd after being forced to masquerade as a creature normally so prized for the acute nature of its olfactory prowess.

As for the sense of touch, that was a strange mixture of numbness and hyper sensitivity that was quickly driving her to distraction. Where the rubber was heavy and thick, such as her hands and feet, there was very little in the form of sensation save for the knowledge that she was either in contact with something solid or not. But in contrast, there were regions that felt as though they were almost on fire for a large part of the time. Her breasts and genitals were the worst and she was sure beyond any shadow of a doubt that this was a deliberate thing, inflicted upon her for the amusement of the Master.

Ellie had been forced to spend long periods of the time in which she was awake trying to find a way to relieve the constant itching and throbbing she felt in the most sensitive parts of her body. She rubbed her chest against the cold metal of the crate, hoping that the burning in her nipples could be eased by the chill. Her abdomen she tried to press to the concrete floor on which the crate stood so that if the sensation was not relieved by the freezing surface, it might simply numb the flesh altogether.

She wondered if this was what it felt like to be a dog in the grip of heat, caged with no hope of relief and constantly burning with unfulfilled physical desire to be released from the suffering.

While she had lamented at first the loss of her ability to speak behind the muzzle of the mask, Ellie now found that in a bizarre way she was somewhat thankful for it. Forced to endure the endless need for relief and tortured from one moment to the next, she found it impossible to remain quiet and instead voiced her feelings in moans and cries that were mangled by the effects of her rubber visage. Somehow it was easier for her to deal with the animalistic sounds that she made than even to think of what she might have been compelled to say otherwise, the desperate words the extreme situation in which she found herself might have wrung from her.

But that was not the only small mercy that she found in the anonymity of the mask.

The Master was present for perhaps an hour at a time, although she had no way to keep track of the time. He took a keen interest in her discomfort, snapping one photograph after another of her as she tried to relieve her suffering. There was no way that she could even try to remain still or deny him the material he wanted for his camera, the effects of the suit being too intense. Instead she tried to close her eyes and as much as possible forget his presence. As the Polaroid he used spat out ever more images of her degradation, Ellie was thankful that her human features were hidden beneath the layers of rubber.

Perhaps if she retreated far enough into herself, curled the vulnerable elements of her psyche into a tight enough ball, she could escape the irreparable damage that was already being done to her mind.

With every snap of the flash, every moment that she rubbed her crotch against the floor like an animal, she retreated a little more into the darker corners of herself.

And once the human being had withdrawn, what was left behind became ever more simple in nature and focussed on the satisfaction of the physical needs that plagued her.

Ellie was awoken from her troubled sleep by the sound of the lock on her crate opening. She gazed around and saw the Master beckoning to her from where he stood beside the open door, gesturing that she was to do as she was told and come to his side.

There was nowhere to hide and no evident way to escape the bare concrete room in which she was being kept. In addition she was tired and emotionally fraught after enduring hours of discomfort from her breasts and groin that sleeping had only postponed her having to face.

In an ideal world she realised that she would have been fighting back against what was being done to her, trying to escape or call for help. At the very least she would have refused to cooperate with the Master, remained in the crate and defied him.

But something was not right inside of her, she was becoming ever more aware of the fact as time passed. She could not have said if it was a reaction to her treatment, the constant need to relieve her physical symptoms, the experience of being trapped inside a canine mask or a combination of all three.

Regardless of the source, she knew it was creeping over her slowly and stealing her resolve. It made her almost cower at the sight of the Master, fearing what he was capable of doing to her should she make him angry so much that she was unable to muster any will to disobey. Instead she meekly crawled out of the crate on all fours, stopping when she was crouched in front of him and looking up at his black-clad face with a mixture of trepidation and resigned defeat in her eyes.

“Up,” his voice was firm and yet not cruel in tone, just the way one would expect a person to address a dog that they wanted to obey through authority rather than force. “Sit up, girl.”

Ellie placed her front paws on the floor and pushed herself up until she was kneeling before him, keeping her eyes fixed on his as she did so. He was directing her with his left hand while he kept his right behind his back, but she had no time or inclination to think why. For now he was being, if not kind, at least less than cruel and she was glad of the chance to be anything but afraid for once.

“Good girl,” he bent forwards and stroked her under the chin.

The simple contact sent a spark of elation through Ellie’s body without a warning, but by the time the feeling had reached the pit of her stomach it had turned into a sense of horrified shame.

What was wrong with her?

Was she so fragile and easily manipulated that one casual word of praise from this monster intent upon degrading her was enough to set her singing in elation?

In that moment, Ellie hated herself more than she could have put into words. The parts of her human self that had been hidden away for their own sake came quickly back from the edges of consciousness to add to the disgust she felt for her own reactions. Was this what it truly felt like to be a dog? Living from one moment to the next in constant fear of what a man would do to punish disobedience contrasted with the slavish devotion and manic adoration when he instead showed favour? She was sure that no sane human being could have remained so if forced into that existence of maddening extremes of emotion. Only the simple mind of an animal could have been battered in such a way and continued to function.

Is that what I have to become, she thought as the implications of that revelation sank in, if I can’t escape this man and his delusions?

Ellie was torn away from her thoughts by the sound of an electric hum filling the air. She watched as the Master produced from behind his back a phallus that was the source of the noise as it buzzed crazily in his hand.

“Now,” he said as her eyes followed the vibrator, “we’re going to teach you how to beg.”

Her attention focussed on the toy as it came closer and all thought of anything else banished from her mind, Ellie found herself seized by an urge that was similar to the uncontrolled sensation of gratitude she had felt when he tickled her under the chin. The difference was that this feeling was many times more intense, maddening and centred on the parts of her body that had been driving her to distraction since she was sealed into the suit. Thus far she had tried to relieve her suffering by numbing the afflicted areas in the hope of extinguishing all feeling, but now she saw that there was another possibility which lay in quite the opposite approach.

The Master knelt so that he could bring the vibrator within inches of her heavy breasts and she was able to do nothing but bear her chest and lessen that distance. Her nipples were hard and erect, straining against the rubber before the tip made contact and when they did she felt herself almost shake in response. He went from one breast to the other with the vibrator while his free hand massaged the side not being pressed against the thing at that moment and for the first time there was a blessed relief of the burning she had felt for so long.

“Up,” he made her heed his words by withdrawing the vibrator, “now show me how you beg.”

Being deprived of the toy was not something that Ellie could deal with at that moment, and before she could think what she was doing, she hung her arms in front of her in imitation of the dogs she had seen made to beg for a morsel by their owners. She raised herself on her knees, trying to look as though she was doing her best to obey, eyes wide and almost desperate with the effort.

“That’s the way,” he reached down between her legs and she felt his fingers stroke the lips of her vagina for a moment, then there was a surge of penetration as he slid the vibrator into her and held it there. She stiffened at the entry of the foreign object into her body, the muscles shocked and stimulated by the action. But there were only moments before the effects of the toy began to spread through the sensitive layers of her most intimate parts.

She remained in the begging position as he began to move the vibrator, the terrible burning in her replaced by an equally terrible and shaming pleasure. Ellie gasped and shook as he built her sexual energies up steadily, making sure that each minute the thing stayed inside her was more intense for her than the last. Small thoughts ran through her head, reminding her of the way in which she was being used and the awful source of the gratification she was feeling, but there was no hope of her stopping what was being done to her. She was too far gone and too deeply enthralled to be capable of doing anything other than submitting and riding the waves of pleasure that spread through her.

When she came, the sound that emerged from her muzzle was mangled by the rubber, sounding more like the cry of an animal than a woman.

As the warmth of her orgasm faded, Ellie felt the Master’s hand grip her collar and begin to guide her back into the crate.

“In you go,” he wasted no time in locking the door once it was closed. “That’s enough fun for one day.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Ellie alone with the memory of being used like an animal and the growing sensation that would return as the effects of her sexual exploits grew ever more distant.

Though she knew that time was passing by the needs of her body that she could not control, Ellie had no way of keeping a sense of the days that she had been kept like a dog. Her routine was mind numbing in its simplicity when it was not a humiliating round of experiences that were the norm for a canine. The combination of boredom and despair when she was idle and crushing shame when she ate clumsily from a bowl or was forced to make use of the newspaper in the corner of the room was such that she feared for the state of her sanity.

While she was able to have such worries, she at least knew that she was not yet in the true grip of madness. She was sure that had she been pushed over the edge, there would have been no doubt in her mind that she was sane. Was that not the cliché in every film? A prison full of men who claimed to be innocent, or an asylum where the truly crazy inmates where indignant at being labelled as insane?

The Master spent time with her almost every day by her shaky reckoning, normally waking her with the sound of the door opening or tapping on the bars while she slept. She was loathe to admit it, but his presence was a distraction from the terrible feeling of loneliness she experienced when left alone. There was a growing part of her that had begun to see his visits as a reprieve from the long periods of enforced solitude where she was trapped with only her own thoughts for company. It seemed that with every new visit, she forgot a little more that this was the man responsible for her captivity and came to see him instead as the only company for which she could hope.

He played with her often, making use of the vibrator and other toys so that she made a spectacle of herself for his amusement. But the visit always seemed to come to an end too soon and bit by bit, Ellie began to learn methods of eking a little more time from him simply for the sake of keeping the inevitable return to her crate postponed.

She would begin by pawing at the bars when he entered the room, making pathetic noises that gave voice to her feelings of isolation and the more physical company she required. When he made her perform tricks, she put more effort into her performance with submissive glances and open displays of her body. When he seemed unlikely to reward her with the vibrator, she would roll onto her back, spreading her legs and offering herself to him and seldom fail to secure what she wanted.

This new tendency to play the role he had in mind for her seemed to ease his demeanour towards her, as if he were satisfied that she was bending to his will. She found that his tongue loosened in turn and he began to speak to her in a way that one might casually converse with a dog that was unable to understand or respond.

To begin with there was nothing apart from bland comments to either praise or scold her for her behaviour, but as time went on he became more used to the habit and so less careful of what he actually said. Ellie began to catch intriguing hints at the Master’s frame of mind as he let slip the times he had been terrified of vicious dogs that were nowhere near as well behaved as she was proving to be, or told her that she was becoming honest and trustworthy than the other women who were simply dogs in disguise. She realised as he opened his thoughts in this way that there was a chance she could use his confidence against him, manipulate his expectations in order to make her own position stronger.

In a moment it came to her, the one thing that he had not done that all owners took for granted with their dog: he had not yet tried to walk her. If he was convinced that she was a dog and not a human being, then did it not stand to reason that the ultimate proof of her being broken to his will was to be able to take her out in public and have others see how she obeyed his every command? The fact that she was sealed in a rubber costume and he clad himself in a suit of black latex was not the point so much as the chance to get out of that accursed concrete room and into the light of day. From that point on the possibilities were so much more promising.

But how to convince the Master that she was broken in and totally subservient to his will?

As she lay awake in the darkness, the idea came to Ellie.

She only hoped that when the time came she could find the strength to make it work.

The Master took her by the collar and made to push Ellie back towards the open door of her crate, he was used to the ritual and so paid little attention to what she was doing at the same time. Finding that he was met with resistance, he glanced down to see what was making his normally obedient dog defy him on that occasion.

Ellie sat up on her haunches as he turned to face her, pawing at his thighs and pressing her muzzle into his groin. Her eyes looked up at him with all the submissive pleading that she could manage, hoping that he would interpret her attentions in the way that she wanted.

He seemed confused by her stance, as though he was not sure of what to do next. She may have been defying his wish to see her back inside the crate, but at the same time her actions seemed more a plea for attention than an attempt to rebel.

Seeing that she would have to take the initiative, Ellie went down onto all fours, turning her back to him as she went. Her arms spread out across the floor as her breasts pressed into the floor, filling her with the familiar chill of the concrete. At the same time she raised her buttocks and looked back over her shoulder, an emotion in her eye that she hoped he would interpret as her pleading with him, urging him on to take full advantage.

The Master knelt down behind her, his hands on her backside. He kneaded them through the latex in a motion that only served to heighten the strain that she was under, willing him onwards. One hand strayed to his crotch as he tried to make sense of the urges he felt towards her. At once he was unsure as to whether he could follow his instincts and use his dog in this manner and at the same time he was dangerously excited and in danger of losing control of his own appetites.

In the end his passions won out as Ellie felt his penis brush against her rubber sheathed vagina. He was fully erect and did not stop to question his actions as he pushed into her. The sensation was nothing at all like that of the vibrator entering her through the latex and she could not help but cry out as she accepted what was given. The Master was not a small man and he was filled with the urge to take her without pause or delicacy, riding her as if there was a chance he could be thrown off at any moment. His weight pressed her into the cold floor, only adding to the way in which she was overwhelmed by the act of being taken.

She had been made love to and she had simply had sex in her time, but this was neither of those things. Ellie was not an equal partner in the act by any means, rather she was being dominated physically in a manner that would have horrified her had she been in any other situation. But here she was not a woman, not even a human being. Instead she was a thing, a possession that had no say in the way that it was put to use. Her master dictated when she slept, ate and answered the call of nature, so why was it a step too far for him to control her in this manner also?

If he commanded she would beg, roll over or play dead at his command.

Just the same she would spread herself for him and be mounted at his pleasure, allowing him to say when and where she would be fucked as well as how hard and for how long.

This was not love and he was not expressing his affection for her, instead she was demonstrating her submission to him. The sensations of pleasure that mixed with pain and acceptance to form her experience of his taking her was the confirmation that she was his and that he would own her in all the ways possible.

Ellie closed her eyes and found that she could not turn her thoughts to the future or find refuge in memories of the past. Instead she could only remain in the here and now, shaking with the motions of her Master as he exhausted his passions upon her.

The morning was still a collection of greys and the hints of the dawn that was to come over the horizon when they reached the gates. Ellie had come this way before, back in the days when she had been a woman and walked on two legs. But those days were behind her now and she barely recalled them as she loped into the grass on the end of the lead.

Now that she had convinced him, now that she had worked so hard to win his trust and be allowed out of the freezing concrete room, she was ready.

Ellie had been waiting for this chance for so long, just hoping for the feel of fresh air and the sight of the open sky where she could run free and unfettered.

Sure that there was nobody around to see the strange nature of his pet and his own bizarre appearance, her Master let her slip the lead and placed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat.

Ellie ran across the grass as fast as she was able, filled with energy at being let off the lead.

She stopped for a moment, confused and unsure.

A vague thought crossed her mind, hinting at freedom and open spaces, the idea of running away.

But she shook her head and it was gone.

This was her chance, after all.

Her chance to show her Master that she could be trusted, that she was loyal to him.

His shrill whistle filled her ears, and Ellie turned to run back to him, her mind filled with only the thought of guessing his next command.

She was alive and she had her Master; what else did a dog require?

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09.10.12