Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

The Lapdog

by John Bannergram

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© Copyright 2021 - John Bannergram - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; Solo-F; petgirl; bond; slave; training; hum; costume; oral; electro; collar; leash; toys; cage; reluct; XX

Continues from

Chapter 4: Obedience Training

After a lengthy court fight, Lisa had finally won out. She was still working on a way to get her poodle costume off, but she was hopeful that she’d eventually find a solution. As a long, stressful day turned to evening, Lisa cut through the park on her way home. Her poodle wig bobbed as she walked down the deserted path. Lisa shivered, both from nerves and the cold. It was dark now, and her fur covered bra and panties didn't provide much warmth. Or much dignity. As she hurried through the empty park, her breasts bouncing with every step, Lisa was painfully aware of how her costume put her body on display…and how vulnerable it made her.

My mistress always kept me safe and warm.

Lisa pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't start thinking like a pet again. Where was she? All of these paths looked the same in the dim light.

I need a leash so I don’t get lost.

As she shook her head to clear her thoughts Lisa spotted something in the bushes. She bent down to see that someone had dropped a roll of cash. Lisa smiled, her fears forgotten. Finally her luck was beginning to change.

The only way for her to reach the money was to crawl between two thick bushes. Lisa inched forward on her hands and knees and carefully picked up the wad of bills with her paws.

SNAP!

Lisa jumped at the sound, only to find that she was in some kind of metal container that was too small for her to stand up in. She looked around wildly and saw that she was surrounded by crisscrossed steel bars that had been concealed by the bushes. She was in a humane animal trap! Picking up the money had pulled the trigger, causing the cage door to slam shut. Lisa turned around in the narrow metal cage and tried to free herself, but she couldn’t work the latch with her paws. She was trapped - in a device so simple that only a dog would be dumb enough to be caught by it.

Lisa huddled in her cage, frightened and utterly ashamed of herself. How could she have been so stupid as to get herself locked in a dog cage on her first day of freedom?

Maybe you're not supposed to be free.

Lisa heard footsteps and looked up to see two figures walking down the path. She strained to see who it was, fully aware that she was at the mercy of whoever found her. As the figures came closer, Lisa sighed with a mixture of relief and resignation. It was Tom and Joan, the couple from the apartment building next to hers. They must have decided to cut through the park on their way home too. Lisa was glad that help was on the way, but she wished that it had been somebody else. Tom and Joan were snobs through and through, and Lisa didn’t like the idea of them finding out that she had been dumb enough to get herself caught in a dog trap. The couple stopped in front of Lisa’s cage and stared down at her disdainfully.

Lisa smiled nervously at them through the bars. From her position on her hands and knees her neighbors seemed to tower over her, making her feel small and unimportant. “Hi, Tom, Joan…I um, I seem to have gotten stuck, could you please let me out?”

Joan frowned. “Isn’t that the stray from our neighborhood?”

Tom laughed. “Yes, it’s about time they caught the little mutt. She’s been such a nuisance running around loose. She never stops yapping either.”

Why didn’t Tom and Joan didn’t recognize her? She had to get out of here. Lisa looked up at them with pleading eyes. “Guys, it’s me, Lisa, can you please…”

“She looks so cute. It seems a shame to have her stuck in that tiny cage.”

“It’s for her own good. You know it isn’t safe for a little thing like her to be wandering around on her own.”

Lisa groaned in frustration. Her neighbors might be her only chance to get free, but it was as if they couldn’t hear anything she said. “Tom, Joan, you know me, I’m not a dog, and I don’t belong in a cage. Please let me out.”

Joan cooed. “Oh, look at her, she’s adorable. She acts just like a real person! Are you sure we can’t keep her?”

Tom smiled down at Lisa. “She is cute. But we have a dog already, and you know the apartment building only lets us have one. They’ll fix her up with an owner down at the shelter. Lisa might be a little slow, but I’m sure they can find someone who will be patient with her.”

As Tom and Joan turned and walked away, Lisa shook the bars of her cage. “No! Wait! Please! You can’t just leave me in here!”

But they didn’t hear her.

No sooner had Tom and Joan left when Lisa was blinded by a flashlight stabbing out in the darkness. The door to her cage opened, and she felt something drop over her head. The hulking figure of a uniformed workman loomed over her, making Lisa recoil in fear. She tried to pull back farther into her cage, but the loop of the man’s dog-catching pole was secured around her neck and she was no match for his strength. The workman laughed as she struggled against him while pawing at her neck in a vain attempt to free herself.

"Now, now, girl. There's plenty of space for you at the city pound. You’ll get your own cage, and there’ll be plenty of dog food. Maybe you’ll even get a nice juicy bone to chew on!"

Lisa tried to say that it was all a mistake, that she was a free woman with rights and a home of her own to go to. But all that came out of her mouth were dog noises.

The dogcatcher pulled her out of the trap with his pole and pushed her neck downwards, forcing her to stay on all fours. Then he shoved her into a small dog carrier and closed the door. Lisa struggled to get out, pawing frantically at the latch. She shook in her carrier, barking in protest, trying desperately to get the man's attention. But he didn’t even bother to look at her. She was just another stray dog.

I'm too helpless to be on my own.

Lisa couldn't push the thought away this time.

The man picked up Lisa's carrier and stuffed her into the back of his van. She shivered from the cold night air as he closed the door behind her. As the van drove away Lisa saw something on the floor of her pet carrier. A cellphone. This could be her way out. She couldn’t talk, but maybe if she could work the buttons with her nose, she could text someone for help. Lisa leaned over and carefully picked up the phone with her mouth.

SQUEAK!

She was so startled that she instantly dropped the phone. It made another squeak as it hit the floor of her carrier, then bounced into the corner. Lisa looked more closely at the cell and began to whimper. It wasn’t a real phone after all, just a squeaky dog toy for the dumb poodle to gnaw on while she waited in her cage for the real people to decide what to do with her.

As the van drove through the night towards whatever awaited her at the kennel, Lisa cowered wide-eyed at the back of her carrier, a thin, tattered dog blanket her only source of warmth. Still unable to speak, Lisa’s thoughts said what her voice could not.

I’m not meant to be free. I don’t want to be free. I need an owner to take care of me and feed me and keep me warm and safe and make me cum. I’ll be a good girl this time, I promise, I just want my mistress!

Lisa’s silent plea went unanswered. As she shook in fear, the real dogs that were in the other cages began to bark. But to Lisa it sounded like laughter.


Lisa woke up with a gasp. Am I ever going to have a normal dream?

It's only natural, she thought to herself. After all, she had been through a lot, and dreams reflect the feelings of one’s subconscious. But as she stared up at her mistress, Lisa couldn’t help noticing that all of her dreams involved her wanting Miss Davenport to own her, and that those thoughts had begun to creep into her waking mind.

Ever since she had come back from the groomers’, Lisa had found it much more difficult to ignore the subtext of her dreams, or to reconcile them with her own ideas about who she was supposed to be. Carla had literally rubbed her nose in the simple fact that being owned and humiliated was turning her on, and that was a lesson that was impossible to forget. Lisa’s body wouldn’t let her forget. Every time that Miss Davenport tugged on her leash or had Lisa beg for her supper, the sensations between her legs reminded her that, at least at some level, she was enjoying herself. Lisa found herself uncertain of what she really wanted.

Of course, the other shock that Lisa had received was that her demotion from a respected businesswoman to Miss Davenport’s lapdog was permanent. With great expense and ingenuity, Carla had ensured that Lisa would spend the rest of her life imprisoned in her costume, and that the pink dye that had been applied to her skin would never come off. Lisa had already come to realize that she would always be Miss Davenport’s slave. But now she knew that she would never be capable of being anything else.

Finding out that she was trapped in her poodle outfit forced her to confront the realities of her new life. Lisa had once aspired to be rich and successful. Now she couldn’t even aspire to pour herself a glass of water. She would always be helpless, and with her pink skin and ridiculous dog costume, no one would ever take her seriously. Any attempt at asserting herself would be met with a patient smile followed by a pat on the head. No one would ever see her as anything more than what she had become - a sexy, impractical toy for her owner’s amusement.

Lisa would never be anything more than a rich woman’s accessory, and she was even failing at wanting to be more than that. That was what had upset Lisa most of all - the discovery that she was actually enjoying her own enslavement and humiliation. It cut into her self-worth, her vision of who and what she was meant to be. She was supposed to be someone who was assertive and independent, who got things done and never gave up. She wasn’t supposed to be the kind of person who liked to be dominated, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to be the kind of person who liked being a helpless pleasure slave. But Miss Davenport had forced her to see that what she was supposed to want and what she did want were often two very different things.

Oddly enough, Lisa couldn’t make herself feel angry at the woman who had trapped her in a degrading costume and turned her into a pet. In a way it might have been easier if she had been angry at Miss Davenport; it would at least have been a distraction from her crumbling self-esteem. But the only thing that Lisa could feel was shame at the weak, submissive, natural-born slave girl that she had found herself to be. The anger just wouldn’t come. Perhaps it was because Carla had never given any indication that she had acted out of malice.

It was a strange thing to say, considering that Miss Davenport had turned Lisa into her helpless toy. It was obvious that Carla loved to dominate Lisa and delighted in taking every bit of freedom and dignity away from her. But Miss Davenport had never said anything to suggest that she had a grudge against Lisa, or that this was some sort of fiendish revenge for an unremembered slight. She had never harmed Lisa in any way, or given any indication that she wanted to. In fact, she lavished her with affection. Carla always behaved as if she liked Lisa, and that she had given her a rare gift by turning her into her pet. But Lisa’s lack of anger might also have been due to how Miss Davenport had behaved after bringing her home.

Lisa had been a wreck when they had left Deborah and Michelle’s salon. During the trip back from town her mind was filled with uncertainty. Uncertainty about who she really was, and uncertainty about what her owner was going to do to her. The truth was out in the open now. Miss Davenport would have complete control over her for the rest of her life, and Lisa had no idea what her mistress might do with that power. After all, Carla had already turned Lisa into her dog, who could say what she would do next? For all Lisa knew, her owner might have some horrible torment ready and waiting for her when they got home. But Lisa’s arrival back at Miss Davenport’s house wasn’t defined by what happened, but by what didn’t happen.

Carla hadn’t rubbed Lisa’s nose in her enslavement any further. There hadn’t been any more grand speeches about how Lisa would never be able to free herself or how helpless she was. Above all, there were no surprises. The only thing waiting for Lisa was a hot meal. Dinner followed the usual routine. Lisa got on her knees and put her hands in begging position, after which Miss Davenport patted her on the head and gave her supper, just like always. The cook had left after preparing the food, so there was no one but Carla to see her eat out of her dog bowl. With nothing to embarrass or disturb, Lisa was able to calm down and enjoy a nice, uneventful dinner with her owner.

Supper was followed by a quiet night on her mistress’s lap in front of the television. There was nothing erotic or playful in the way that Carla handled her, Miss Davenport merely stroked Lisa’s head and back as she relaxed with her lapdog after a busy day. Lisa woke up in the morning after her usual nightmare to find that she was still in front of the television; she had spent all night on the couch asleep on her mistress’s lap. Carla was still sleeping, her hand resting protectively on Lisa’s back. That wasn’t supposed to make her feel better, but it did.

The next few days were hard for Lisa. She didn’t know or like the person that she saw in the mirror, and it wasn’t because of her costume. But Miss Davenport showed a surprising dedication to helping her pet to recover. She refrained from any of the bizarre surprises that Lisa had come to expect. There were no frightening trips outside the house, and there was no exposure to strangers. Lisa spent her days at home with her mistress. After her experiences in the outside world, Carla’s house was a safe place, where no one stared at her and nothing bad could happen to her. The meals were always good, the temperature was always kept warm enough for her to be comfortable in her scanty costume, and her owner was there to take care of her.

In addition to providing for her physical needs, Miss Davenport spent a great deal of time reassuring Lisa. Of course, as was typical for Carla, her reassurances were thoroughly demeaning. She would tell Lisa what a good dog she was and how happy she was going to be as her pampered poodle. There was talk of getting a heated dog blanket and some human-sized doggie sweaters for when it got cold, a discussion on whether a differently shaped dog bowl might be easier to eat out of, and there was a debate on what color ribbons looked the prettiest in Lisa’s fur. But as embarrassing as Carla’s comments might have been, there was a clear message behind them: Lisa mattered to Miss Davenport, and although she was going to be treated like a pet, she would be kept in comfort and safety.

In the days that followed, Lisa found herself spending more and more time on her mistress’s lap. For Lisa, laptime became something more than just a means of being driven to orgasm. Being handled and petted by her owner and receiving her reassurances was comforting. It made Lisa feel that even if she wasn’t able to do things for herself anymore, at least she was someplace safe and with someone who would take care of her. More importantly, she was with someone who wanted to take care of her. Perhaps if Carla wanted her, it meant that she was worth being wanted.

Very slowly, Lisa began to recover, and to develop a kind of reluctant acceptance. Strangely enough, the fact that she was permanently trapped in her costume was more of a help than a hindrance. Under other circumstances she might have clung to her old life, hoping in vain that someday she might regain her freedom, or at the very least her dignity. But as it was, there was no point in resisting the inevitable. The dog collar that had been wrapped around her neck was never coming off. Lisa may have once had independence and a career, but that was in the past. She was no longer capable of doing anything for herself, and the only place she had in the workplace was under a desk with her face buried in her mistress’s crotch.

As Miss Davenport had pointed out, like it or not, this was her life now. She was Carla’s pet, and she always would be. Since she was going to stay as Miss Davenport’s lapdog for good, was there any reason to try to be miserable about it? Wouldn’t it be better if she made the best of things and focused on the positives? From that point of view, her submissive tendencies were an advantage. After all, wasn’t it actually a good thing that she was able to get some enjoyment out of her situation and to adapt to what she had become? And so, as time went on, although Lisa still wasn’t entirely comfortable with her new life or her own feelings, she reluctantly began to accept the fact that she was a pet, and that there were at least some things about being a pet that she liked.

Lisa was very much aware of the time and attention that Carla had spent in making her feel better. Miss Davenport had exhibited the same care towards Lisa’s emotional well-being that she had shown in her enslavement. The irony of being grateful to the woman who had sentenced her to life as a dog was not lost on Lisa, but she was grateful nonetheless. However, by now Lisa knew her owner well enough to suspect that as soon as she had recovered, Miss Davenport would spring one of her surprises on her. Lisa knew that her mistress would never hurt her, but by the same token she was sure that whatever happened would be something kinky and unexpected, and probably very strange.

All three of Lisa’s expectations were met one morning after breakfast. Miss Davenport sat at the table with her espresso while Lisa drank hers from her dish on the floor. Carla looked down at Lisa thoughtfully and used a pink cloth to wipe some coffee off of her chin. "I think it's time to get you started on your obedience training. You want to be a good pet for Mistress, don’t you, precious?"

Privately, Lisa thought that she was already a pretty good pet for Mistress, given that she was eating out Mistress on a daily basis! There had been a time when she would have said as much. But finding out that she was going to be a pet for life had given Lisa a more submissive attitude. She was nothing more than a toy now, and her owner was able to do whatever she wanted with her. There was no point in getting worked up about it or starting an argument that she couldn’t win. Besides, whatever Miss Davenport had in mind, it wouldn’t be anything harmful. Her mistress always made sure that she was safe. But Lisa was still uneasy. There was a world of difference between safe and pleasant.

"Um…ok," she said nervously. "If you really think I need it…"

"Good girl!" Carla said, with considerably more enthusiasm than Lisa felt.

After they had finished their coffee, Carla led Lisa to the dressing room where she had first seen herself as a poodle. As Miss Davenport unclipped her leash, Lisa saw that some changes had been made. There was now a white saddle-shaped lump on the floor embedded in the carpet. Ominously, there were two white fur manacles on either side. There was also a large dildo sticking out of the top of the saddle. Some speakers had been mounted above the mirrors.

Lisa frowned at the lump on the floor. She didn't like the looks of this. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it, whatever it was. Miss Davenport pushed her firmly but gently down onto the saddle, as if showing a confused pet where it was supposed to sleep. Lisa gave an undignified squeak as the lubricated dildo slid into her pussy, leaving her with an almost overwhelming feeling of fullness. Carla locked her pet’s wrists and ankles into place, forcing Lisa to remain seated with her ass pressed against the saddle.

Carla leaned over Lisa and scratched her playfully under her chin. By now Lisa was used to being helpless, but this time she couldn't even move a muscle. The huge dildo that filled her was inescapable. Lisa looked up anxiously at her mistress, a silent question in her eyes. Miss Davenport gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Don’t I always look after my girl?”

“Yes, Miss,” Lisa said, but she couldn’t hide a slight quiver in her voice.

Carla stroked her head. “Now, I've made this easy so that my little pet won't have any trouble understanding what she needs to do. You'll hear some short, simple sentences. All you have to do is to repeat what the voice says. When you’re finished with your lessons, the training machine will let you go, and you can go up and join me in my study or do whatever you like."

Lisa had to admit that it didn’t sound difficult. But she was still uneasy when Carla went up to her office, leaving her alone and shackled to the training saddle. The three mirrors surrounded Lisa, leaving her with nothing to see but a pink-skinned girl in a revealing poodle costume. Looking at her own reflection only made her feel small and helpless. Lisa couldn’t help but feel that whatever was about to happen, the timid little slave that she saw in the mirror wasn’t ready for it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice from the speakers above her.

"Repeat after me. I am a silly little poodle."

No way, thought Lisa. Her fear turned to annoyance. This was a step too far.

"I am NOT a silly little poodle! I'm-ahhhh!" Lisa squealed as the saddle shocked her in the ass.

"Bad girl. Repeat after me. I am a silly little poodle."

Lisa deflated. The shocks had been mild, but they sent a clear message: Her participation was not optional. She thought to herself that she really should have known better. Even the most pampered dog doesn’t get to decide if it wants to be trained. But knowing that she didn’t have a choice didn’t make what she had to do any easier. Lisa looked down at the floor in embarrassment.

"I… I am a silly little poodle," she muttered.

Lisa winced as her hesitation earned her another shock.

"Speak clearly. Try again."

"I am a silly little poodle!"

"Good doggie," said the voice in a syrupy tone. The dildo vibrated gently, making Lisa gasp as the machine rewarded the dog who had managed to learn a new trick.

This isn't so bad. I just have to repeat a lot of nonsense. It's not like I have to believe what I'm saying, Lisa thought to herself. Oooh, that feels…

Lisa’s reward may have felt good, but at the same time, the sensations made it hard for her to think. As the machine moved on to other phrases, she found that she had to use all of her remaining brainpower just to parrot everything she heard.

Dogs like me should be collared and leashed.

Pleasing my owner makes me want to wag my tail.

I'm a horny pet who needs a mistress.

I’m a good dog who does what she’s told.

I need an owner. I'd only get into trouble thinking for myself.

My mistress decides when I cum.

My owner keeps me safe.

I’m just a poodle, I can’t do anything for myself.

I’m my mistress’s pretty little pet.

As Lisa repeated a seemingly endless list of humiliating statements about herself, she began to lose track of how long her training had been going on, or how many phrases she had been made to say. While she repeated her lessons, Lisa stared at the only thing that there was to see - her own reflection. Every time she said one of her training phrases, she said it while looking at the pet that she had become. Every time she was rewarded, she saw the look of dumb ecstasy on her face as her dildo rewarded her for being a good dog.

After it was all over the machine released Lisa’s limbs from their shackles just as Miss Davenport had promised. She decided to watch television for a while; Mistress had just gotten a voice activated remote that Lisa could use without her hands. As she lay on the living room couch she thought about this latest surprise that Carla had come up with.

All in all, Lisa was relieved. Being made to say degrading things about herself may not have been her idea of a perfect morning, but it wasn’t that terrible. As long as she obeyed, there were no shocks, and the rewards from the dildo felt nice. Lisa slipped her paw between her legs and rubbed herself thoughtfully as she remembered the feel of the manacles on her limbs. Being chained to her saddle so that she could barely move had been…interesting.

Of course, Lisa had understood the point of the whole thing right away. As was so often the case, Carla had been inspired by Lisa’s role as her pet poodle. Lisa’s machine had run her through a humiliating parody of dog training, complete with punishments and rewards based on her behavior. But all things considered, having to say ridiculous things about herself wasn’t so bad. After all, being made to say something didn’t mean that she had to agree with it. It was embarrassing to be forced to humiliate herself, but it wasn’t as if she was being made to do it in public. Having put to rest her feelings about her training, Lisa turned her attention to the television and frowned at the rerun that she was watching.

Normally she was sprawled out across Carla’s lap when she watched television. It felt strange watching something alone, without the feel of her mistress’s caresses. Lisa gave up on finding something decent to watch and went upstairs to Miss Davenport’s office. Her mistress’s face lit up when she saw her. “There you are! Aren’t you the clever thing? You did such a good job on your doggie training. I’m so proud of you. You’re just the best pet ever.”

Lisa was tongue-tied in the face of Carla’s sugary compliments, but patronizing or not, her mistress’s praise felt good. Lisa gave her a shy smile and knelt on her blanket next to her owner’s chair. Carla needed to get back to work, and Lisa wanted to be in position in case Mistress wanted to pet her while she read the stock reports.

No, Lisa thought as Miss Davenport reached down and stroked her fur, there isn’t much to this whole training thing at all.

Perhaps when she had first been bought by Miss Davenport Lisa’s daily lessons wouldn’t have made any difference. But her time as a pet had left her more receptive, and more submissive. Every time that she finished her daily training session, Lisa would tell herself that she didn't really believe what she was saying, but the truth was that as she recited her humiliating lessons while staring at the poodle that she had become in the mirror, they slowly began to sink in.

As the weeks went by, those little phrases kept running through her mind. Many of them reminded Lisa of the things that she had dreamed about, which was something that she didn’t know what to make of. Was the training machine really teaching her something new, or was it just forcing her to acknowledge something that had always been inside her? Lisa wasn’t sure. But there was no question that she was starting to change.

Lisa was already physically and mentally reliant on Miss Davenport. When she ate, it was because Carla fed her. When she received pleasure, it was because Carla gave it to her. When she was praised, it was by Carla. When they went into town, it was Carla who protected her and made her feel safe. And when she found comfort, it was in Carla’s arms. Everything good that happened in her life came from her mistress. Without openly admitting it, she had already become accustomed to looking to Miss Davenport for all of her needs, but Lisa’s training honed that tendency into an obsession.

As the weeks went by, Lisa grew emotionally dependent on her owner, to the point where she was practically glued to her side. If she became anxious or unhappy, the touch of her mistress’s hand or the sound of her voice had a calming effect. By the same token, the pull of her leash was reassuring; it meant that not only was she with her owner, she was unable to stop being with her owner. But it wasn’t just a question of nerves. Being at her mistress’s side felt right, as if it was the place where she belonged. Every day after her training, Lisa was usually allowed to roam about the house for a bit or watch television, but she found that most of the time she didn’t want to do either of those things. Instead she went straight to Miss Davenport’s office and knelt on her blanket next to her mistress.

The only time that Lisa wasn’t with her owner was when Carla left the house without her. Lisa was always uneasy when Miss went away, and she tended to stay near the front door so that she would be there when her mistress returned. There wasn’t any furniture in the entrance hall, so she had to sit on the floor. Although Lisa herself never realized it, she looked like a faithful dog waiting for its master.

It always made her feel good when Miss came back, partly because she wanted to be with her mistress, and partly because Carla always seemed so happy to see her. In fact, Miss Davenport invariably gave the impression that she enjoyed having her pet by her side, and that only increased Lisa’s desire to be with her. Being treated like a dog may have been humiliating. But at the same time, there was a certain pleasure in being with someone who was so consistently delighted to have her around.

Needless to say, Miss Davenport indulged Lisa’s need to be close to her whenever possible. On one occasion Carla finished her shower and saw that Lisa had been sitting and waiting for her on the bathroom floor. From then on bathtime became a shared activity. Carla took her pet into the shower with her. Then she would lather and wash them both. Lisa grew to love bathtime, regardless of whether it turned into something erotic or if it was just an occasion to be handled by her mistress.

Back when Lisa had been a free woman, she had always taken quick, efficient showers so that she could get on with her day. Now that she belonged to Carla, things were quite different. Miss Davenport would wash and caress every part of Lisa’s body with great care, as if she was cleaning something precious and irreplaceable. Beneath her mistress’s hands all thoughts of independence seemed to melt away. It felt natural and right to submit and to let her owner bathe her and claim her as a treasured possession.

One fine morning Miss Davenport decided to take her dog for a walk around the grounds of her estate. It was a beautiful day, and Lisa was enjoying it. The birds were singing, and the warmth of the sun felt good on her pink-dyed skin. She felt comfortable walking around Carla’s garden; there was no one to see her but the gardener, and by now she was used to him. Besides, Lisa was on the end of Mistress’s leash, so she knew nothing bad could happen. After all, her owner always kept her safe. At one point Carla went off to talk to the gardener about something. Before she left, she tied the end of Lisa’s leash to a small tree.

“Now, be a good doggie, and stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Miss Davenport spoke to her firmly, but with the hint of a smile on her face, as if Lisa was a long-indulged pet who had a tendency to get herself into mischief. Lisa didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded and gave her owner a timid smile. Dressed in her silly poodle costume with her elegant mistress towering above her, Lisa had become increasingly shy when it was her turn to talk.

While she waited for her owner, Lisa killed time by bird watching and looking at the flowers. Every once in a while she glanced at Miss Davenport and the gardener. She liked it when she was able to see that Miss was there. Then Lisa noticed something odd. Her leash was dangling between her breasts. The knot that had tied her to the tree must have come undone. Without knowing why, Lisa felt vaguely uneasy. She was always leashed to something when she was left alone outside. Being able to go wherever she wanted felt…wrong. Then Lisa noticed that the gate leading to the street had been left open.

Somehow it looked colder on the far side of the gate. Lisa didn’t think about the possibility of escaping. She didn’t even think about the impossibility of escaping. She didn’t think about her inescapable costume or the slave tracking chip under her skin that would make it easy for her to be caught and sent right back to her owner. She didn’t think about how she might be punished if she tried to escape. Instead, she gave the outside world a look of discomfort.

Affection, safety, and pleasure were here. Her life was here. Her mistress was here. There was nothing out there that she wanted. Lisa turned away from the unpleasant sight of freedom and watched her owner while she waited for her to finish talking with the gardener. After he had left, Carla returned and picked up the end of Lisa’s leash. She put her hand between her pet’s thighs and gave a caress that made Lisa’s whole body tingle.

“You’re just perfect, aren’t you?” she whispered in Lisa’s ear.

Lisa was so proud. She’d been a good girl.

After a picnic lunch Carla spent the afternoon sunbathing on the patio. As usual, Lisa was at her side. The chain attaching her collar to Miss Davenport’s chair was too short to allow her to stand, or even get on her hands and knees. She couldn’t even talk; Mistress had turned her voice off again. The only decision that Lisa was allowed to make was whether to lay on her stomach or on her back. Every so often Carla would reach down from her chaise lounge and play with her pet’s breasts or stroke her head. From Lisa’s position on the ground her mistress loomed over her like a giantess, every bit as dominating with her clothes off as she was with them on.

The little tail on the back of Lisa’s panties shifted as she leaned over and lapped at the cold drink that her mistress had poured into the dog bowl beside her. She felt a pleasant warmth between her legs as she thought about how Miss had rubbed her hands all over Lisa’s body to apply her sunscreen. As she drank, deprived of movement and deprived of choice, Lisa never once thought about the gate that had been open and was now closed. Freedom and the outside world hadn’t been worth remembering.

Although Lisa was initially uncomfortable admitting it, there was something that made her training particularly effective - it turned her on. Being chained to her saddle and having to degrade herself for her mistress’s pleasure triggered every submissive impulse in her body. There was a lesson in that, even if it wasn’t a lesson that she wanted to learn. Of course, even before her training Lisa had come to understand that part of her loved being dominated by her mistress. But Lisa still wasn’t entirely comfortable with that side of herself, and she frequently tried to ignore her own feelings.

Lisa’s training forced her into self-honesty. Every day she was chained up and made to humiliate herself, and every day she watched herself in the mirror as her dildo rewarded her. At the same time that Lisa was learning dependency from her training machine, the mirror was teaching her a lesson of its own: The real Lisa wasn’t a businesswoman who wore conservative pantsuits and reviewed earnings reports with her clients. The real Lisa was the one she saw every day in the mirror, a submissive slave in a skimpy costume who moaned in ecstasy each time that she was rewarded for trading her dignity for a moment of pleasure.

Although Lisa’s life as a pet was filled with humiliation, there was very little punishment, aside from a minor shock from the training machine on the rare occasion that she got a lesson wrong. Carla hadn’t used the shocker in Lisa’s collar in some time, and she only edged and denied her pet when she was feeling playful. Punishment wasn’t really necessary anymore, since it was unheard of for Lisa to do anything that she might be punished for. In fact, Lisa spent very little time thinking about whether she might get shocked. Lisa’s focus wasn’t on avoiding punishment, but on the pleasures that her mistress had to offer, and in basking in her attentions.

In her emotionally dependent state, Lisa hung on her mistress’s every word and action. Whether it was a smile, a caress, or simply a “good girl” muttered in her ear, Lisa lived for signs of her owner’s approval, and more importantly, her affection. Perhaps that was why she now preferred it when Miss drove her to an orgasm with her hands rather than with the remote. Receiving pleasure from her mistress’s touch felt more…intimate.

The truth was that it wasn’t just Lisa’s behavior that was changing. As the incident with the slipped leash had illustrated, Lisa herself was changing. It would be easy to say that it was the training. But that wasn’t all, or even most of it. As Lisa herself had noticed, the training merely brought to the surface something that had always been inside of her. That part of her liked what she was experiencing. That part of her liked the submission, and the attention that she received from her mistress, and as time went on, that side of her grew stronger. Lisa herself didn't fully realize just how much she had changed until one day when something happened that, for once, was not part of one of Carla's well-laid schemes.

It was a nice day, and somehow the front door had been left ajar. A delivery man came in to drop off a package. As he walked inside, he came face to face with Lisa. He stopped in his tracks and stared.

By now Lisa was used to Miss Davenport and the cook seeing her. Going out in public was frightening, but it was still somehow…impersonal. Having only one person stare at her in an empty room was far worse. It made her feel small and vulnerable. It didn’t help that Carla was upstairs in her office. Miss was supposed to be here to reassure her and keep her safe. Lisa saw herself all over again through the man’s leering eyes.

Everything about her was suggestive; the fur panties and bra left little to the imagination. The makeup that had been permanently tattooed on her the last time she was at the groomers' made her eyes look huge, giving her a pleading, puppy dog expression. A sparkly pink dog collar had been locked around her neck. Her whole appearance screamed of sexual submission. Lisa realized that she was wearing her leash. It dangled between her breasts like a silent invitation.

The delivery man finally broke the silence.

"Could you sign for this package?" he asked, holding out a pen.

Lisa stared down helplessly at her paws and realized that she couldn't.

I’m just a poodle, I can’t do anything for myself.

The man smirked at her. "So…what are you supposed to be?"

Lisa froze. Suddenly she wasn't at all sure. To her horror, she heard herself repeat one of her training lessons.

"I'm just a horny little pet!"

There was a moment of dead silence. Then the man laughed and took hold of her leash. "You know, I think I used to deliver you your packages at work. I’m glad somebody finally put you in your place. After all, a dumb little slut like you shouldn't have a job. You'd only fuck things up. You belong on a short leash…don’t you, bitch?"

Everything the man said to Lisa made her feel smaller and smaller. She stared down at the floor, too meek to even look him in the eye. The old Lisa would have argued, or slapped him in the face. But the fight had gone out of her. In its place was submission, and a kind of tacit agreement.

She wasn’t supposed to be in an office, like a real person. She was just a dog on a leash. In fact, she wasn’t even that; she was a caricature, a ridiculous parody of a dog who was kept as a toy for her owner’s amusement. The idea that she should be given any respect or have any say over what happened to her seemed laughable.

“Let’s have a look at those tits.” The man yanked on her leash, pulling her to him.

Suddenly, Miss Davenport walked into the room, and the incident came to an abrupt end. Carla signed for the package and gave a perfunctory thank you to the man before he left, accompanied by a glare that could melt through steel. Judging by the look on Miss Davenport’s face, the delivery man was going to be looking for a new job, possibly in a different state under an assumed name. But Lisa had other things to think about.

She trotted behind Carla as they walked down the hall with a feeling of shame. She had just stood there and waited to get felt up by that horrible man. Certainly she should have said or done something. She was the kind of person who stood up for herself, wasn’t she? But then it occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t that kind of person anymore. She didn’t have any assertiveness left in her.

Lisa was disappointed in the meek, indecisive person that she had become. Even worse, she felt that Miss might be disappointed in her too. She didn’t like the idea that she might have let Mistress down, or worse, that she might not be the pet that Mistress wanted her to be.

"Um…Miss?"

"Yes?"

"I…uh…I mean…I didn't mean to…"

Carla gave her an indulgent smile, and took out some pieces of Lisa’s favorite chocolate from her pocket. Lisa perked up and quietly licked them out of her mistress’s palm. Being fed by hand always made her feel better. Miss Davenport stroked her head as she ate.

"There we go. That’s my girl. Now stop worrying. We both know that you can't fend for yourself. You’re just my pet doggie, after all. That's why I give you everything you need and make all of your decisions for you."

Lisa still found that kind of remark to be embarrassing, but it was also somehow…reassuring. The delivery man had frightened her, and was comforting to know that Miss would always be there to look after her and keep her safe. But at the same time Lisa came to a realization. Just as the delivery man had made her remember what she was wearing, Lisa was now forced to see herself for what she was.

Like a stray dog that had been turned into a household pet, she had become too tame to take care of herself. Lisa wasn’t a self-reliant career woman anymore. She was a timid little pet who couldn’t be trusted to stay out of trouble, and who needed to be watched over for her own good. Even without her costume, she would never be able to survive on her own. She’d be as frightened and helpless as a lost pet. As Lisa finished the candy in Carla’s hand, she felt an abrupt rush of gratitude towards her owner. Miss took such good care of her.

While Lisa nuzzled and licked her mistress’s fingers in silent thanks, another training lesson, one that she had scoffed at in the past, popped into her head.

I need an owner. I'd only get into trouble thinking for myself.

This time, she believed it.

As her training continued, Lisa internalized more and more of her lessons. But it went without saying that one of the main effects of Lisa’s obedience training was obedience. When she was rewarded for repeating the little phrases that she heard, Lisa wasn’t just being taught to say humiliating things about herself. She was being taught blind obedience.

Over time, Lisa had been taught to obey without question. It had been a long time since Lisa had engaged in any kind of rebellion against her mistress. But her training magnified the effect to the point where the idea of defying her owner didn’t even occur to her. Obeying Mistress felt as natural as eating and sleeping. For her part, Carla made obedience easy; she rarely asked Lisa to do anything particularly difficult, and she praised and doted on her pet when she did as she was told. For Lisa, obedience became part of her nature. But despite her best efforts, eventually she was faced with a situation where she couldn’t obey, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

Lisa had woken up after her usual nightmare; this time it had been an especially horrible one. Her old office had turned into a cage where everyone stared through the bars and laughed at her as she tried to type with her paws. Lisa began to calm down as she looked up at her sleeping mistress. Waiting in her pet bed helped a little too; Miss had laid some of her old clothes on top of it so that Lisa now slept surrounded by her owner’s scent.

When she had first become Miss Davenport’s pet, one of the things that had frustrated Lisa the most was that there was nothing for her to do until Carla woke up. But her training had helped her to see that she was doing something. Lisa was helping her busy owner to get her to sleep. Every morning that she waited silently for Miss to wake up, she was showing her devotion to her mistress. That thought made her feel warm all over. But devoted or not, this morning Lisa had a problem. She badly needed to pee. For some reason she had been particularly thirsty at dinner the night before and now she was faced with the consequences.

She got out of her pet bed and sat on the carpeted floor in the hope that the different position would help, but it didn’t. As she waited on all-fours, her legs clenched together, she argued with herself about what to do. She couldn’t wake Miss up. It would be bad, and besides, Mistress had mentioned the day before that she was going out to an important meeting today, she needed her rest. But Lisa couldn’t leave the room to pee without help, and she was desperate. On the other hand, if she were a good pet, she’d hold it in so that Mistress could sleep, wouldn’t she? The struggle between her need to obey and her need to relieve herself warred within her for what seemed like an eternity. She was still trying to decide what to do when her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, terrible feeling of release.

Lisa heard a trickling sound and felt warmth between her legs. She looked down and saw to her horror that she was peeing on Carla’s beautiful rug. Lisa stared at the dark stain that had started to form in disbelief and shame. She had done the most humiliating, degrading, doglike thing that it was possible to do, and the worst part was that she’d done it all by herself without any orders from Carla or her training machine.

Lisa couldn’t bring herself to look away from that spot. To her it was a symbol of all of her failings. Her failure to keep from becoming a pet. Her failure to keep from wanting to become a pet. Once she had been someone important. A businesswoman who people listened to. Someone who mattered. Now she had peed on the carpet, like…like a bad dog. She was utterly worthless. Useless. She couldn’t even control her own bladder. The very first phrase that she had learned from the training machine ran through her head.

I am a silly little poodle.

When she had first heard it, she had told herself that it was just something that Carla’s crazy machine forced her to say. But it wasn’t. It was true. She was just a stupid dog who’d pissed all over the rug.

I am a silly little poodle. A stupid, stupid animal.

And she’d been bad, too. Really bad. Miss was going to be so disappointed with her. As her feelings of humiliation and failure overtook her, Lisa broke down and began to sob. Her mind was filled with ugly, self-hating thoughts unlike anything that her training machine had made her say.

Stupid. Dirty. Useless. Trash. Worthless.

She started as she felt a hand touch her back.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you ok?”

Lisa hadn’t heard Carla get out of bed. She’d woken Mistress up. That made it even worse. Miss needed her sleep and Lisa had ruined everything. She tried to answer but she couldn’t stop crying long enough to speak. She wasn’t even sure what she would say if she could. Lisa just stayed on all-fours like a dog sobbing and staring at what she had done. The light from the newly-risen sun streamed through the window like a finger pointing at her shame.

Miss Davenport leaned over and looked at the wet spot. She stared at her pet for a moment with a worried expression on her face. It was the first time that Lisa had seen her mistress look unsure of what to do. Then Carla rose abruptly to her feet in the manner of someone who had made an important decision. She walked to the bedroom door and patted her thigh as if summoning an easily distracted dog.

“Here, girl.”

Lisa couldn’t bring herself to get up from her position on the floor. She didn’t belong on two legs. Too dumb. Too worthless. Lisa wondered how she was going to be punished. Carla always treated her like a pet. What did you do with a dog that peed all over? Whatever happened she deserved it. Maybe Miss would beat her with a rolled-up newspaper. Or she’d get a doghouse and leave her chained up outside. Maybe she’d even make her stay there at night in the cold. She didn’t deserve to sleep in Mistress’s bedroom anymore.

Carla walked back to where her pet still sat huddled on the floor. Lisa looked up at her for a moment, then stared down at the rug in shame. Miss Davenport knelt down so that her body blocked Lisa’s view of the carpet stain. Then she embraced her and stroked her head. “Come on, honey, it’s ok. No one’s mad at you.”

Carla clipped the leash to Lisa’s collar and led her down the hall. Lisa didn’t know or care where her mistress was taking her. She just stared at the floor and blindly followed the pull of her leash. When they stopped, she saw that they were in the bathroom. Without another word, Carla stripped off her clothes, led Lisa into the bathtub and took a shower with her.

Lisa’s costume wasn’t dirty; it had been designed with her bodily needs in mind, but being lathered and washed by her mistress still made all the difference. The touch of her owner’s hands felt like forgiveness. Miss Davenport spent a very long time washing her, so much so that it was obvious that it was for Lisa’s mental state and not her cleanliness. As Carla bathed her, she spoke to her pet in a low, reassuring voice. Scattered words and phrases separated by the noise from the shower poured into Lisa’s ears. My favorite…so lovely…always take care of…precious…good girl…all mine.

After being dried with a thick, soft towel that was as pink as her skin and after having been given a good hot breakfast, Lisa found herself on Miss Davenport’s lap being petted. Her strokes weren’t arousing, merely the caresses of a woman who wanted to calm her frightened dog. From time to time Carla held her coffee up to her pet’s lips so that Lisa could take a sip too.

“I…I’m sorry about waking you up and ruining your rug, Miss.”

Carla smiled and stroked her head. “Don’t worry about it. A little doggie can’t be expected to be totally in control of things. Or totally in control of herself.”

As much as she wanted to, Lisa couldn’t disagree. Not after she had just finished peeing on Mistress’s rug. Lisa’s eyes began to water as she thought about what she had done. “But…you have that meeting today, and…and…it looked like a really expensive carpet.”

“The meeting can wait. I’m spending the day right here at home with my absolutely perfect pet,” Lisa looked up at her mistress and gave her a tentative smile. Carla smiled back at her and scratched her behind the ear. “As for the carpet, yes, it was quite valuable. An antique, in fact…but I’d much rather have you than the rug.”

Lisa’s face glowed as she closed her eyes and leaned into her mistress’s touch. For the first time since she had woken up that morning, she didn’t feel worthless at all.

06.09.2021

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