Gromet's PlazaPonyGirl/PetGirl Stories

The Lapdog

by John Bannergram

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© Copyright 2021 - John Bannergram - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; FM/f; petgirl; collar; leash; hum; public; mast; toys; bond; cage; electro; cons; reluct; XX

Continues from

Chapter 5: The Person and the Petgirl

Lisa thought to herself that she would rather be anywhere but on display at the annual dog show. But there was nothing she could do about it. Lisa sat on all-fours on her table and submitted in silence to the primping of her handler. Her handler. Lisa winced. She wished that the people running the show had chosen someone else.

Her only hope was that it would all be over soon and that Miss would return to take her home. The crowds surrounded Lisa and the real dogs that were on the other tables, but it was her that everyone was staring at. She tried not to pay attention to the fragments of conversation that rose above the roar of the audience.

“…heard she gets off on this. Shameless little…”

“I bet if I got her some dog chow, she’d…”

“…her on the end of my leash. Look at the size of those…”

Lisa straightened up and put the mockery of the crowd behind her as she saw the judge and the announcer walking towards her. She didn’t want to let Miss down. Lisa froze as she saw that there was a cameraman with them. She glanced at a nearby screen and, to her despair, saw the reason why. The dog show was being televised this year.

On the screen was an old photo of her dressed in a conversative pantsuit that exuded confidence and professionalism. As Lisa watched, the picture was replaced with a live video of her as she was now, sitting on her table on her hands and knees with brightly-colored ribbons woven into her fur. The camera zoomed in on her pink-dyed face, framed by her poodle wig and dog collar. Everyone that Lisa had ever known or met, everyone who had ever respected her, everyone who had thought that she was someone worth listening to, would see on their television the meek, obedient pet that she had become. Lisa whimpered as she read the caption at the bottom of the screen.

Lisa Andrews: Woman trades high finance for doggie treats

“And now we’ve come to the toy division of this year’s show. Our first entry is Lisa, a poodle owned by Carla Davenport. Miss Davenport couldn’t be here today, so Lisa’s being presented by one of our handlers, George Wilson, who I understand used to know Lisa in quite a different way. Isn’t that right, George?”

George smiled and gave Lisa a little tap on the ass, causing her tail to swing back and forth. “Yes, back when she was a stray, Lisa used to work in the office down the hall from me. You should have seen her. She looked so cute, sitting behind her desk, just like a real person. Naturally, though, the poor thing was totally unable to cope. You could see that it was only a matter of time before she got herself into trouble. It was so kind of Miss Davenport to rescue her and bring her into her home. Now that Lisa’s got her paws and tail, she doesn’t need to worry her silly little head with anything other than entertaining her mistress with all of her antics.

Of course, Miss Davenport had to train her first. I gave you some snapshots of that, didn’t I?”

Lisa looked on in horror as the television began to show pictures of her time as a pet, while George narrated for the benefit of the audience. There was a photo of her eating out of a dog bowl. There was a picture of her peeing on the grass. And there was one with her face buried in her mistress’s crotch. The presentation ended with a photo of Lisa on her knees staring up at the camera, with her paws in begging position and an idiotic grin plastered on her pink face.

“There’s our Lisa, nice and tame, and right where she belongs!”

The announcer looked down at her with a patronizing smile then turned to the camera. “Well, thanks for telling us all about Lisa. I’m sure she’s happier now that she’s found her place and has a nice owner to look after her. Let’s talk with our judge. Can you tell us a bit about this breed?”

The judge patted Lisa on the head. “Well, in terms of personality, they’re generally quite docile. You don’t see them in the wild, as they have no survival skills. This breed is generally unintelligent, and Lisa here is definitely no exception.”

The announcer laughed. “Yes, she doesn’t look any too bright!”

Lisa squirmed in humiliation as she heard some giggles from the crowd.

“True. Lisa’s obviously incapable of surviving on her own or thinking for herself. However, observe her responsiveness.”

She gasped as the judge thrust his hand between her legs, while the crowd laughed and laughed…

Lisa's strange nightmares continued. However, there was one notable difference. Her dreams used to start with her believing that she was free, or at the very least that she was no longer a pet, only to learn otherwise in some frightening or humiliating fashion. But now her nightmares began with her already knowing that she was Miss Davenport’s lapdog. Even in her dreams, she remained a toy poodle, with her mistress’s collar sealed around her neck and her hands forever imprisoned in soft pink paws. Perhaps it was because increasingly that was how Lisa saw herself. More and more she looked at herself not as a stockbroker who was behaving like a pet, but as a pet who had once been a stockbroker.

Of course, she wasn’t all pet. At least, not yet. There were two Lisas - the person that she had been, and the pet that she was becoming. As the days passed, there was less of the old Lisa and more of the new. The old Lisa was still there, trying desperately to keep herself from becoming any more doglike than she already was. But that Lisa was fighting a losing battle. After all, she didn’t have much to offer.

The person that Lisa had once been felt shame at what she had become. She used to be successful and respected. Now she was a slave who had to wear a humiliating dog costume for her owner’s amusement. Even worse, Lisa’s poodle outfit left her without the slightest degree of independence. She couldn’t even bathe or feed herself. But the worst part was that there was no hope of going back to the way things were. Her costume, and her life, was a soft, comfortable prison from which there was no parole and no escape.

The old Lisa protested bitterly to herself that she wasn’t meant to be a dog. That she should be ashamed of how she humiliated herself to satisfy Miss Davenport’s slightest whim, and that she should be even more ashamed of how much she enjoyed that humiliation. But in the end, those silent protests were the extent of Lisa’s defiance. She was too far gone to do anything else. By now Lisa was too submissive and too well-trained to disobey her mistress, or even to argue with her. She had long since given up on trying to do things for herself, and she was beginning to forget how to think for herself. Which only increased the old Lisa’s despair.

By contrast, the new Lisa was enjoying herself. She felt no shame in submitting to her mistress. She didn’t concern herself with what she was supposed to want, only with what she did want. She was able to admit to herself that she loved being a pet. She loved the pleasures that she received. She loved the thousand humiliations that made those pleasures all the more exciting. And…she loved being with Miss. As time went on, the battle between the old Lisa and the new came down to a simple question. Did she want to be an unhappy person, or a happy pet?

As Lisa became used to her new life, and as her relationship with her mistress grew, the answer seemed increasingly obvious. Of course, Lisa the person questioned whether being kept as a slave and treated like a dog was really a proper relationship. Lisa the pet disagreed, and to some extent she was right. You could argue about whether Lisa’s relationship with her mistress was normal, healthy, or even sane, but there was no denying that it was there. Miss meant everything to Lisa, and it had become clear to Lisa that in a sense, her mistress felt much the same way.

It was true that Miss Davenport treated Lisa like a dog. But she wasn’t just any dog. Lisa was Mistress’s special pet. Miss gave her the finest food, the softest blankets, and spent most of her time with her. It occurred to Lisa on more than one occasion that her mistress cared more about her as a dog than anyone had ever cared about her as a person. She had become addicted to that idea, that feeling that she was something precious. Lisa clung to the slightest sign of her owner’s favor. She wanted to drink in her mistress’s affection until she was filled with it, until all of her fears and doubts and failings had been swept away.

The answer to all of Lisa’s problems seemed to be that she should become more doglike, not less. Every time that she embraced her role as her mistress’s obedient pet, her shame faded away, to be replaced with submissive bliss. Of course, acting like a pet also meant being rewarded with all of the pleasures that Miss Davenport could provide. But above all, acting like a pet led to the praise and adoration of her mistress. All of these things made Lisa as eager to please as the most faithful of dogs. The old Lisa still protested, but she usually lost in the end. Lisa’s need to satisfy her mistress was strong, and it grew stronger every day. Which was why one afternoon she found herself sitting on the floor by the window and debating with herself about whether she should stand up or not.

Miss Davenport had been out all day at a business meeting. Carla had left her pet some food in her dog bowl, but Lisa had only picked at it. She didn’t like it when Miss left her alone. Like a real lapdog, she grew lonely and anxious when she wasn’t with her owner. Whenever Miss Davenport left her at home, Lisa tended to sit and wait by the front door so that she would be there when her mistress returned. She always started out by trying to distract herself by watching TV or wandering about the house, but she inevitably ended up on the floor, peeking out the window in the hope that she would see Miss drive through the gate.

Both Lisa the person and Lisa the pet were unhappy when Miss Davenport went out. The new Lisa didn’t like it that Miss wasn’t there, and felt compelled to sit and wait for her owner. But the old Lisa was ashamed of herself. She had gone from someone who was strong and independent, to someone so emotionally fragile that she fell to pieces without the reassuring presence of her mistress. Lisa’s vigil by the front door was one of the few secrets that she had left, and she was desperate to keep it. Miss had already seen her cum, eat out of a dog bowl, and perform countless other indignities, but somehow Lisa couldn't bear the thought of Miss Davenport seeing her waiting on her hands and knees by the window like a lonely pet.

In order to keep from being found out, Lisa would stand up when Miss arrived and make a show of acting like she just happened to be walking past the door. It was an unconvincing performance, and it had become even more unconvincing over time. Lisa wasn’t fooling herself, and she probably wasn’t fooling Carla either. But pride compelled her to continue with the pretense. However, today it occurred to Lisa that Miss would really like it if her pet was waiting for her at the door on all-fours.

It’s degrading, the old Lisa protested. I shouldn’t be groveling on the floor. Miss will think that I can’t cope without her.

But it’s true, responded the new Lisa. I can’t cope without her. Nothing seems right when Mistress goes away. Besides, Miss takes care of me, and feeds me and pets me and lets me cum when I’m good. She’s my owner, and I’m her dog. I should do something to let her know how glad I am that she’s home.

Stop it. I have to remember that I’m not really a dog, I’m…damn it, I’m doing it again.

Lisa realized that she had been rubbing her paw between her legs. The pleasures and humiliations of Lisa’s new life had left her in a nearly continuous haze of arousal, and the urge to touch herself had become stronger and stronger. It was a habit that she couldn’t seem to break, no matter how hard she tried. To Lisa it was a symbol of her increasingly tenuous grasp on her humanity. While in her old life she had projected an air of quiet professionalism, now she was unable to keep herself from pawing at her crotch like an animal. But then Lisa saw something much more important than her fading dignity. Miss had returned!

She’s back! She’s really back! Ooh, she got food from that place with the small plates. She’s going to feed me by hand, I just know it! I love it when Miss does that. She looks tired though. It must have been an awful meeting.

Lisa could barely contain herself as she heard the key turning in the lock. She was so emotionally dependent on her owner that every time her mistress returned, she got as excited as a hyperactive dog. Without even thinking about it, Lisa made her choice. She sat on her hands and knees in front of the door and waited for her owner.

Miss Davenport’s tired face broke into a smile as she saw her pet looking up at her.

“There’s my girl! Did you miss me?”

Lisa was too excited and happy to speak, so she just nodded eagerly. Her dignity forgotten, she hugged her mistress’s legs.

Miss Davenport stroked her head. “What a sweet doggie you are! I missed you too. Come on, girl, let's eat. I got all your favorites.”

Lisa smiled as she followed her mistress into the kitchen. Waiting on her hands and knees had definitely been the right decision.

Lisa’s excitement at her mistress’s homecoming was typical of her new self. In her old life, she had always been the kind of person who planned ahead. Lisa looked at the big picture. But now Miss Davenport made all of Lisa’s plans for her, and she rarely told her in advance what those plans were. Lisa couldn’t look at the big picture, because she didn’t know what the big picture was. At first, not knowing what was going to happen to her was frightening. Then it became an annoyance. But then, as Lisa grew used to being kept in the dark, it began to affect how she looked at the world around her.

Lisa began to develop a kind of blind spot in her thinking. It’s hard to think about something about which you know absolutely nothing, and Lisa knew nothing about her future. She knew that her owner would continue to keep her as a safe, pampered, and utterly helpless pet, but beyond that, she was entirely ignorant of what the day might bring. As a result, Lisa became used to not thinking about things in advance. She simply accepted each moment, bad or good, as it came.

Lisa was becoming a short-term thinker, a creature of strong emotions and immediate pleasures. She never knew what would happen in the future, so all of her thoughts and emotions were focused on the present. Whatever was happening now, whatever she was feeling now, was of supreme importance. Today was all that mattered. Tomorrow was in the hands of her mistress.

As Lisa herself had begun to realize, one of the effects of her inability to think about the long-term consequences of her actions was that her self-control was fading away, and so were her inhibitions. Lisa’s sexually charged life meant that her pussy was rarely dry, and the only thing holding her back was her rapidly diminishing willpower. Eventually the inevitable happened. She got caught playing with herself.

Carla was hard at work at her desk, while Lisa, loyal pet that she was, sat on her blanket by her side. Lisa perked up as she realized that it was almost time for her to eat out her mistress. That always made her excited. Soon she’d be trapped between Miss’s thighs, unable to do anything but pleasure her with her mouth. Then Lisa saw that Miss Davenport was staring down at her with the hint of a smile on her face.

“I see my pet is feeling frisky today.”

“Frisky, Miss? I don’t…understand…” Lisa suddenly realized what she had been doing with her paw. “I…oh…”

Lisa closed her eyes as a mixture of shame and arousal coursed through her. Miss Davenport patted her on the head. Then she turned on the current in Lisa’s panties. Not enough to let her cum. Just enough to tease.

“There’s no need to be shy. That’s one of the nice things about being a pet. If you were a person, well, that would be shameful. Being caught touching yourself. Just imagine what people would say if they saw you. But you’re not a person, are you? Tell Miss what you are. And keep rubbing yourself while you do it.”

Lisa looked up at her owner with both of her paws stuffed in her crotch in a futile attempt to cum. The teasing in her panties, combined with the humiliation of being caught, had increased her lust until it was unbearable, making it difficult for her to speak, or even to think. “Unh…I’m…uh…a…I ah…I need…I…I’m your…dog. Please, I…um…I’m your dog and…I…I need to cum.”

Miss Davenport gave her a smile, as if Lisa had been especially clever.

That’s right. You’re just my doggie, and doggies touch themselves in public all the time. So, you see, it’s ok that you can't control yourself. You can use those cute little paws of yours as much as you like. Besides, you look adorable when you try to cum by yourself. As for being allowed an orgasm, I think you already know the answer to that. I love to spoil my pet. Enjoy your treat, dear.”

With that, Carla touched the remote, driving Lisa over the edge. As pleasure overtook her, she abandoned rational thought and came without dignity, curled up on the floor at her mistress’s feet with her paws thrust between her legs.

When it was all over, Lisa found that the insides of her thighs were slick and her paws were drenched with her own juices. Miss Davenport gazed down at her from her chair.

“Just look at those wet paws. You did get yourself messy, didn’t you girl?”

Lisa stared at the floor, too embarrassed to speak.

Miss Davenport scratched her under the chin. “You know what that means, don't you?”

Lisa looked up at her mistress with a puzzled frown and shook her head.


Her shame forgotten, Lisa broke into a smile as she followed her mistress to the shower. She loved bathtime.

Being caught playing with herself had been both a humiliating and an exciting experience. But it had also been a lesson in being open and honest about her sexuality. By now Lisa was used to having Miss Davenport decide what she should and shouldn’t do. Knowing that Mistress wanted her to masturbate made all the difference. It meant that it was all right for her to touch herself, and to be upfront about her needs. In fact, it was what she was supposed to do. Her old self whispered that she was behaving like a slut, and even worse, that she was turning into a dumb animal who thought only of pleasure, but her protests were easily pushed aside. If Miss wanted her to enjoy herself, and she wanted to enjoy herself, why hold back?

Of course, although Lisa could touch herself whenever she liked, her paws kept her from being able to make herself cum. But that seemed only right. An orgasm wasn’t something a silly little pet like her was supposed to be able to have at will. Her owner decided when she should cum, just like she decided everything else. In a way, that made her orgasms even more special. An orgasm wasn’t just entertainment, it was a present given to her by her mistress. Every time she was allowed to cum was another reminder that she was Miss’s cherished pet, to be showered with comfort and pleasure.

As she became more open about her desires, Lisa’s kinky side grew more prominent. She quivered with excitement whenever her mistress pushed her onto the training saddle and locked the manacles over her limbs. Like Pavlov’s dog, Lisa became aroused at the mere sound of the leash being attached to her collar. The idea that Miss Davenport might pull her by it or tie her to the furniture made her wet, while being chained to Miss’s chair so that she could serve her with her mouth excited her beyond words.

Miss Davenport noticed Lisa’s increasing desire for bondage and submission and, unsurprisingly, she was perfectly willing to indulge her pet. Carla had an endless supply of bondage equipment, the money to buy what she didn’t have, and the imagination to make what she couldn’t buy. Lisa never knew exactly what Miss was going to come up with, which only added to the excitement.

One day Lisa went to keep her owner company while she did her morning workout. Lisa admired her mistress as they walked to the exercise room. In her sports bra and leggings with her hair pulled back Miss reminded her of an Amazon, ready to catch Lisa and make her her prisoner. Lisa was so lucky to have such a beautiful owner. Maybe after Miss exercised she would…

Lisa’s fantasies about her mistress were interrupted as she saw that there was now a small, low cage in the center of the exercise room. Cages weren’t new to Lisa, there was a dog crate upstairs that Miss kept her in when they had visitors so that she wouldn't "get into trouble". Like so much of Lisa’s life, her crate was luxurious and inescapable. It was lined with pink cushions that were as soft as a cloud, but the latch on the door could not be worked with her paws, and the polished wooden bars were reinforced with steel. While her important owner met with her guests, Lisa would sit in her cage, peering out through the bars as she awaited her mistress’s return. But this cage was different, a thing of cold iron that belonged in the dark ages.

Before Lisa knew it, she was in the cage on all-fours, staring up at her mistress. She began to ask Carla what she had in mind, but before she could speak Miss Davenport stuffed a wad of cloth between her lips. Lisa used her tongue to explore the silken panties that filled her mouth, gasping softly as she tasted her mistress’s juices. Carla leaned over and whispered into her ear.

“Keep those in your mouth like a good girl and I’ll let you cum.”

Miss Davenport locked the door to Lisa’s cage with a huge iron padlock. Then she hung the key around her neck and began her workout. As Carla exercised, the key dangling back and forth between her breasts, Lisa watched on from her tiny cage. She couldn’t stand up. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything…except suck on her owner’s wet panties.

Every so often Lisa’s mistress passed by her cage, reaching through the bars as she went from one exercise machine to another. Stroking her back. Caressing her. Teasing her. Lisa moaned with every touch, her voice muffled by her mistress’s panties. After Miss Davenport had finished her workout, she reached again into Lisa’s cage. This time her hands made their way towards her pet’s crotch…

Lisa’s escapades with Carla only served to lower her inhibitions even further. After all, Miss Davenport had already driven Lisa to orgasm, played bondage games with her, watched and encouraged her as she tried to masturbate, and touched and caressed every inch of her body on a daily basis. The idea that Lisa should be shy around her mistress seemed increasingly ridiculous. There was no reason to conceal her sexuality, or herself. Miss already knew every part of Lisa’s body, and every part of her body belonged to Miss.

But Lisa’s sexual mores weren't the only thing that was changing. She also became, for lack of a better word, comfortable with Miss Davenport. She was already emotionally dependent on her owner in every way. But the passage of time helped her to feel uniquely at ease when she was with her mistress. When Lisa had first awoken to find herself a pet, her relationship with Carla had been tinged with fear. Her owner had total control over every aspect of her life, and knew everything that she did. Miss Davenport was unpredictable, and there was no telling what she might decide to do with her new toy.

Time had taught Lisa to trust her mistress. Although Miss Davenport had a talent for the unexpected and the peculiar, she never actually did anything unsafe with her pet. In fact, she was very protective of her lapdog. Lisa no longer feared the possibility of punishment, either. She had come to understand that Miss didn’t enjoy shocking her, and that even in the early days she had only done so when Lisa had openly defied her. As a result, Lisa wasn’t worried about being punished. Miss would never punish a good girl like her.

For Lisa, fear had been replaced by faith. Faith that her mistress would take care of her, and that Miss wanted her to be happy. That faith was backed up by experience; Miss Davenport delighted in giving her lapdog the best of everything, and that included looking after her emotional well-being. If Lisa was upset, Miss would cheer her up, and if she was scared, Miss would make her feel safe. Because of that, Lisa grew to be as open with her emotions as she was with her body. Much like a real dog, deception was becoming foreign to her. Whether she was happy or sad or horny or frightened, she rarely concealed how she felt. The solution to any problem could be found in her mistress’s arms.

Miss Davenport never directly addressed the changes taking place in Lisa. But it was obvious how attached she had become to her pet. She found a place for Lisa in nearly every part of her day, to the point where they were practically inseparable. Aside from the rare occasions when Miss Davenport had guests over, the only time when they were apart for any length of time was when Carla had to go out on business, and even that happened less and less. Miss Davenport went to fewer meetings outside of her home than she used to, preferring conference calls and virtual meetings at her desk. Lisa lay on her dog blanket by her mistress’s side, invisible to the camera but always present. But Carla’s enthusiasm for her pet eventually showed itself in another way.

It started out as a typical morning. They had finished breakfast and were having coffee in the sitting room; Miss Davenport from a cup, and Lisa from her dish on the floor.

Carla called out to her chef as she sipped on her drink. “Rosibel, would you be good enough to brew us another pot of coffee? I’m expecting company.”

Lisa looked up from her coffee dish. “Should I go upstairs to my cage, Miss?”

Lisa’s dog crate had a pressure sensor in the corner beneath its cushioned floor. Whenever her busy mistress was entertaining guests, Lisa would crawl into her cage and push the switch with her paw, causing the door to slam shut. Once she had been locked in her cage, Lisa was there to stay until Miss decided to let her out. It was an eloquent statement on just how docile Lisa had become that she could be trusted to imprison herself on command. But today, her owner had something different in mind.

Miss Davenport smiled. “Go upstairs? Certainly not. I want to show off my lovely pet!”

Lisa froze. There was nothing more important than pleasing her mistress, but the idea of being put on display for one of Miss’s guests wasn’t just embarrassing, it was frightening. She still remembered the mocking words of the delivery man, and how small and worthless he had made her feel.

“Miss…I…” Lisa tried to tell her owner how she felt, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Carla leaned down and gave her a reassuring scratch behind the ear. “It’s ok, honey. I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll lay your favorite blanket next to my chair and you can sit right next to Mistress. Does that make you feel better?”

Lisa looked up at her mistress and gave a timid nod. She still didn’t like the idea of being shown to a stranger, but nothing really bad could happen if Miss was there.

A man in a conservative suit soon arrived and was greeted at the door by Miss Davenport, with Lisa by her side. Unsurprisingly, he became somewhat tongue-tied when he saw that there was a scantily clad poodle girl with pink skin standing next to his client. Lisa stared down at the floor so that she didn’t have to look at the startled expression on the man’s face.

The stares that Lisa attracted always embarrassed her, reminding her of how foolish she looked. The man made his greetings to Miss Davenport, but he didn’t say a word to Lisa. Lisa tried to tell herself that it was because Miss was the one that he had an appointment with. Or that he had been surprised by her appearance. But it might also have been because it was obvious that someone like Lisa, with her body on display and a dog collar locked around her neck, had no place in a serious meeting.

I wish Miss had let me stay in my crate where I belong.

As if in response to her thoughts, Miss Davenport took hold of the end of her pet’s leash and wrapped it around her hand. To Lisa, it felt like an unspoken reassurance, a silent reminder that she wasn’t alone this time. As Carla led her visitor into the sitting room, Lisa kept close beside her and knelt by her mistress’s armchair.

Before Miss Davenport sat down, she used a simple knot to tie her pet’s leash to the leg of her chair. Lisa gave her a grateful smile. Nothing could be safer than being anchored to where Miss was. Miss Davenport settled into her chair and stroked Lisa’s fur with one hand while she talked with her visitor. Lisa felt herself calm down as she leaned into her mistress’s touch. Miss was there. Miss took care of her. Miss kept her warm and safe. She didn’t have to worry. She didn’t even have to think. All she had to do was sit on her favorite dog blanket like a good girl.

Lisa gathered that the man was there to sell Mistress some kind of insurance. However, the conversation took longer than expected; for obvious reasons their visitor found it difficult to maintain his train of thought. Lisa said very little, only speaking when spoken to. Although Miss had made her feel better, she still felt timid and small beneath the man’s gaze. She hoped that she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass herself, or even worse, to embarrass her mistress.

After the meeting had concluded, the conversation turned to Lisa, much to her discomfort.

“I see you noticed my new pet. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“Err…yes,” the man said awkwardly, “some of my other clients have taken advantage of the slavery acts, but I’ve never seen anything quite like…”

Carla gave her pet’s breast a little squeeze. “I know. She’s one of a kind. Aren’t you, precious?”

Lisa didn’t know what to say, so she just looked up at her owner. These days, that always made her feel better.

Carla gave her an indulgent smile and stroked her nose. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s still a little shy around strangers.”

“Oh, of course,” the man said hastily, “I understand.”

After the man had gone, Lisa looked up at her mistress from her position on the floor in a silent plea for her owner’s approval.

Carla beamed down at her pet. “You were such a good doggie! You made Miss so proud.”

Lisa smiled as her mistress praised her and stroked her fur. Miss Davenport took her by the leash and they went up to her home office. As she sat by her mistress, Lisa thought about how it had felt to be shown off to someone else. It hadn’t really been that bad after she had overcome her fears. She couldn’t exactly say that she’d enjoyed the experience of being put on display. But at the same time, when Mistress had started talking about her, it had made Lisa feel things that were difficult to put into words.

Miss was so proud of Lisa that she wanted people to see her. When she had chatted with her visitor, she hadn’t bragged about her house or her antique furniture. All she wanted to talk about was her lapdog. It made Lisa feel that she was her mistress's most prized possession, something so special and so treasured that Miss wanted everyone to know about her. It was a feeling that she could get used to. Perhaps it was even worth the price of being put on display.

In spite of Lisa’s devotion to her mistress, her regular sessions with the training machine continued. Lisa had no objections; she had long since come to appreciate the submissive pleasure of being chained up and made to humiliate herself. However, one day she discovered that a change had been made to her routine. The day’s session started out normally enough. But about halfway through her training, instead giving Lisa a phrase to repeat, the machine barked at her. For a moment, Lisa sat in silence as she tried to figure out what the training machine wanted from her. Then, in a flash, she realized what she was supposed to do.

“Woof! Woof!”

Lisa blushed beneath her pink-dyed skin. Somehow it felt more demeaning to bark on her own instead of having her collar make her do it. But Lisa gasped in pleasure all the same when the machine gave her her reward. She had been a good dog. Then the machine moved on to another lesson. But mixed in with her lessons were other kinds of dog noises, each more humiliating than the last. Insistent little yaps. High pitched growls that sounded ridiculous instead of assertive. At one point she even had to pant like a dog.

After she had finished her lessons, Lisa decided to watch television for a bit before going up to her mistress’s office. It would give her a little time to think about the day’s training. Lisa leaned over the voice activated remote.


Nothing happened. Lisa frowned down at the TV remote, entirely at a loss as to what to do. She had become so used to being helpless that her first reaction to any problem was to ask her mistress to fix it for her. Maybe Miss needed to change the batteries? Or maybe Miss had to adjust something? But then she noticed that there were some new labels on the remote. The one beneath the power button read “Grrr!”

Lisa felt a rush of humiliation as she realized what she was supposed to do. She let out a little growl. The kind of adorable, non-threatening growl that one might hear from a small dog. The kind, Lisa thought as she looked down at herself, that suited a fluffy, ineffectual little lapdog like her. The television switched on as soon as she finished growling. As Lisa barked and yipped to change channels, she thought about the latest addition to her training.

The old Lisa was appalled at how she had been made to degrade herself. She had no illusions that her training sessions would be the end of it, either; no doubt her mistress had something planned for her, and Lisa was sure that it would be thoroughly humiliating. The new Lisa had enjoyed herself, but she was also somewhat confused. Miss could use the collar to turn her speech into barks and growls whenever she wanted. Lisa didn’t see the point of being trained to do something that she could be made to do at the push of a button. But as she used her dog noises to work the television, she began to understand.

Miss Davenport didn’t just want Lisa to be made to bark, she wanted her to be comfortable with barking, until it seemed as natural as begging for her supper or obeying the pull of her leash. Lisa supposed that considering all the other things that she had done as Miss Davenport’s poodle, being asked to make a few dog noises now and then wasn’t really that surprising. It made sense in an odd sort of way. Like the rest of her training, it was all about being a better pet for Mistress. And as far as the new Lisa was concerned, there couldn’t be anything more important than that.

The old Lisa and the new were in agreement on one thing. Miss Davenport definitely had some end goal in mind. Lisa wasn’t given to thinking ahead anymore, but she was still curious about what her mistress had planned. There was no use asking, though; Miss wasn’t one to spoil a surprise. Lisa shrugged as she gave a little growl to turn off the television. There was little point in dwelling on the unknown. It wasn’t as if she needed to understand what was going on. All that she had to do was to be a good dog and do what she was told. The rest would take care of itself.

The incident with the insurance salesman was the first time that Miss Davenport had shown Lisa off, but it wasn’t the last. Whenever people came to visit, Carla delighted in introducing them to her toy poodle. Although the presence of her mistress kept her from being overly frightened, Lisa still wasn’t a fan of being shown off. But time helped her to get used to it. Time, and the continued sense that she was her mistress’s most prized possession. Her submissive tendencies were useful too; there was a certain thrill to being shown off like a pedigreed dog.

However, being shown to other people only served to further reinforce in Lisa’s mind her position as a humble pet. Miss Davenport and her guests would sit and chat and drink their coffee, while Lisa knelt on her brightly-colored dog blanket on the floor and kept silent so as not to disturb them. It seemed unthinkable that a silly pink pet like her would join them in their conversations, or that she was in any way their equal. Lisa was just a lapdog, to be petted by her mistress and shown off to Miss’s guests after the day’s business was done.

After Lisa had become used to being put on display, Miss Davenport took her pet along with her on some visits to a select group of friends. Although in some cases, friend might have been too strong a word to use. As Lisa had noticed from the beginning, her mistress wasn’t a particularly friendly person. She clearly liked a few of the people they visited, but many of the others were more acquaintances than friends. It was obvious that the purpose of these outings wasn’t because Carla wanted to see their host, it was because Carla wanted their host to see Lisa.

Being taken to see Miss Davenport’s friends was hard on Lisa at first. She was far more comfortable in Miss’s home, which now felt like her home too. However, it did help that most of Carla’s friends took her appearance in stride; Lisa guessed that they’d known Miss long enough to expect the unusual. In fact, they all seemed to enjoy seeing Carla’s new pet. They would compliment Miss Davenport on her dog, and occasionally Lisa would receive a pat on the head and a “good doggie”.

There was a time when Lisa would have been horrified by that kind of treatment. But the truth was that after the shocked reactions that she had encountered from people in the past, the calm, friendly condescension of Miss Davenport’s friends actually came as a relief. Humiliating as it was, being treated like a dog was something that she was used to. As a result, Lisa gradually became accustomed to her outings. But in one of their visits, she encountered something that she hadn’t expected.

They were having dinner at the house of a man named Stephen. Lisa didn’t know anything about him, except that judging by the renaissance-era paintings on the walls he was an art collector with money to burn. His home was beautifully decorated, but with a cold, sterile formality that made Lisa feel vaguely uncomfortable. It wasn’t the kind of house that someone with a pet would have. The meal had concluded, for which she was thankful; although the food had been good, Lisa hadn’t enjoyed eating out of a dog bowl in front of a stranger. But while the meal had been a minor trial, much of Lisa’s attention was focused on the woman who had served dinner.

As Lisa knelt beside her mistress, she studied the beautiful redhead who was currently standing silently next to their host with the impassive expression of a dutiful servant. With her classic features and alabaster skin, she reminded Lisa of one of Stephen’s paintings. The woman was holding a silver tray with drinks on it, and was dressed in a French maid outfit with an indecently short skirt and a top so low that it came just short of revealing her nipples. From her position on the carpet Lisa could see the maid’s neatly trimmed landing strip. Apparently, she was a natural redhead. Around the maid’s neck was…a collar.

In thinking about it, Lisa realized that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Carla’s rich friends certainly had enough money to buy out an enslavement contract, and given how kinky Miss Davenport was, it was only natural that some of her acquaintances would share her tastes. But it had never occurred to Lisa that the people they visited might have slaves of their own. As Lisa sat obediently by her mistress’s side, she passed the time by examining the maid, and she noticed that the maid, who she gathered was named Genevieve, seemed to be just as curious about her.

Stephen’s slave was beautiful, and her maid costume was nice. But Lisa didn’t think the other woman’s collar was as pretty as hers. It was made of stainless steel with a large ring on the front, forming a seamless band around her neck that gleamed in the light. There was no lock, no hinge, and no hope of release. It was a collar for a slave, not a pet. Genevieve’s wrists were chained together with shackles that looked as solid and inescapable as her collar. She must have worn them for some time; Stephen’s maid seemed accustomed to her bondage.

Lisa frowned as she thought about how adroitly Genevieve had served them dinner in spite of her chains. She wasn’t able to do things like that for Miss; her paws prevented her from doing anything useful. But then again, Lisa thought to herself, Miss hadn’t bought her so that she could be a maid. As a house pet, her purpose was to bring pleasure to her mistress. That was much more important than cleaning and carrying things around.

Genevieve’s chain tinkled softly as she served Stephen and Carla their drinks with well-practiced skill. Miss Davenport poured a little of hers into Lisa’s bowl. As Lisa lapped up her wine, she wondered what sort of relationship her fellow slavegirl had with her master. Sex, chores, and sexy chores, probably. At least she didn’t look like she was being mistreated, that put her ahead of most slaves.

Lisa supposed that in a way Genevieve had more freedom than her. She could use her hands, and do things for herself and for her master. A part of Lisa envied that small bit of independence. On the other hand, who mattered more to the master of the house, a maid, or a cherished pet? Lisa looked down at her paws. In a sense, they were a message, or a promise. Her paws didn’t just take away Lisa’s ability to do things for herself, they were a sign that Lisa would never have to do things for herself. That Miss would always look after her. It was a nice thought, and it made her feel much better.

Lisa’s attention turned to the conversation between Stephen and Carla. In between the usual polite remarks and small talk, the two owners bragged about their slaves over drinks. Although Lisa was beginning to get used to being talked about, it still made her feel a bit bashful. Still, it was always nice to bask in Mistress’s praise.

“I will say,” Stephen admitted grudgingly, “that your pet is very well trained.”

Carla smiled and stroked Lisa’s head as she sipped her wine.

“Thank you. I can’t take all the credit though. She’s a natural. As meek and submissive as can be,” Miss Davenport turned and looked down at her pet. “You’re just Miss’s perfect little doggie, aren’t you?”

Ordinarily, Lisa would have given her mistress a silent nod. As Carla had pointed out, she was still shy around strangers, and easily embarrassed. But seeing Miss brag about her to another master did something to Lisa. Mistress was so proud of her, and Lisa wanted to live up to that pride. Besides, Stephen had been showing off Genevieve, and she didn’t want to let Miss down. Lisa couldn’t bear the thought of Mistress coming off as second best. She felt that she had to do something to show their host that she really was a good pet, and that Miss was the best owner in the whole world.

Lisa looked up at her mistress with a cheery smile, and shook her ass so that her tail wagged. She was able to talk, but speech wasn’t what was called for.

“Arf! Arf!”

Stephen chuckled as Lisa stuck out her tongue and panted like a dog while continuing to wag her tail. It wasn’t the laughter of someone who had seen a person acting like an animal, but the delight of someone who had been surprised with a trick that he had thought too complicated for a pet to learn. Lisa squirmed in humiliation as her old self resurfaced, reminding her of what she was doing, and how foolish she must look. But what she was doing wasn’t as shameful as why she was doing it.

Lisa’s life as Carla’s toy poodle had gotten her used to being denied even the smallest scrap of dignity. But this time was different. Miss Davenport hadn’t forced her or even asked her to degrade herself in this way. No one was doing anything to humiliate Lisa. Nor had she been carried away by lust or emotion. Of her own free will, she had made a conscious decision to degrade herself in front of a total stranger.

Lisa told herself that it was no different than how she behaved back home. That, after all, she was already touching herself and getting on all fours for her mistress’s amusement on a regular basis. But deep down, Lisa knew that putting on a display of her own making for someone that she didn’t even know was a point of no return.

Miss Davenport smiled and patted Lisa on the head. She gazed down at her pet with a fond expression on her face. Stephen’s enormous house suddenly felt much less cold and uninviting, and dignity seemed far less important.

“Good girl.”

Carla took out a bag of candies from her pocket and fed Lisa by hand.

Stephen raised his eyebrows. “Imported Brielle truffles? A bit extravagant for a slave, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so, but she’s worth every penny,” Miss Davenport said as stroked Lisa’s nose. “Aren’t you, girl?”

Lisa glowed. Some indignities were worth enduring.

The morning after found Lisa being groomed by her mistress. Miss didn’t do as skilled or as elaborate a job as Deborah and Michelle, but Lisa found that she liked it better when her mistress brushed her. It was a quiet, special time for her and Miss to bond.

Despite the lack of anything explicitly erotic, Lisa found that the experience of being groomed by her mistress made her feel intensely submissive. Being groomed made it feel right to submit, as if she was a puzzle piece that had been snapped into the proper place.

Lisa looked in the mirror. All was as it should be. She sat on all-fours on her grooming table, while Miss brushed her and told her what a good dog she was. Mistress always turned her voice off for her grooming sessions. Lisa didn’t mind; not being able to speak helped her to relax and enjoy herself. She didn’t have to think about what to say in response to Miss’s compliments, she could just sit quietly and let them sink in. Lisa held still as her owner wove another ribbon into her fur.

Her fur. It occurred to Lisa that, for the most part, she didn’t think of her poodle outfit as a costume anymore. In her mind, she didn’t think of it as “my fur wig”, she thought of it as “my fur”. Just as it was “my tail”, not “the tail on the back of my panties”. Lisa stared thoughtfully at what she saw in the mirror. A dog and her mistress.

Seeing Genevieve with her master had given Lisa something to think about. When Lisa had awakened to find that she was wearing a poodle costume, she had looked at herself as a slave who was being forced to participate in a humiliating sex game for her owner’s amusement. From that point of view, Miss Davenport’s remarks about her being a lapdog were nothing more than elaborate roleplay. But as time went on, Lisa had come to think of herself as an actual pet rather than someone playing at being one. Seeing another master with his slave had given Lisa a rare moment of clarity, causing her to revisit her own relationship with her mistress.

Whether it was in the kitchen or in the bedroom, most slaves had to work night and day for their owners - or else. Even pleasure slaves usually had…activities to perform when they weren’t with their masters. But the first thing that Miss Davenport had done was to place Lisa in an outfit that made it impossible for her to do any work at all. That said a lot about what Miss wanted her to be. Naturally Mistress expected Lisa to pleasure her on command, but it was equally obvious that she wanted more than that. Lisa looked again at her reflection.

The huge mirror with its gilded frame presented her with a kind of living portrait. There was Miss Davenport, and there on the table was her pampered and obedient pet, being petted and brushed and adorned with ribbons. Miss looked…happy. Many of Carla’s thoughts remained strange and unknowable to Lisa, but she felt that when she looked in the mirror she understood, at least for a moment, what Miss wanted. But what did she want? Slaves were supposed to want to regain their freedom and dignity, weren’t they? Would that make her happy? If Lisa did have a choice about what her life was, what would it look like?

Lisa…wasn’t sure. Freedom? Lisa wasn’t an amnesiac, she certainly remembered being free, and she remembered how much it had hurt to lose that freedom. But even putting aside her inability to fend for herself, the thought of being a free woman just wasn’t attractive to Lisa anymore. Her memories from before she became Miss Davenport’s property seemed to have a gray, lifeless quality to them.

Wearing drab clothes in featureless offices while talking to nameless clients. Having to think and worry and plan because she didn’t have anyone to tell her what to do. Nights spent alone in her apartment, with no one to pet her and tell her how pretty she was. Lisa didn’t know whether her feelings about her old life were her own, or if they were the result of Miss Davenport’s training. All she knew was that her mistress fussed over her and played with her and always knew how to make her feel better. Why would she want to be free from that?

What about dignity? Did she want the respect that came with being a person instead of a pet? That was an even harder question to answer, particularly in light of how she had been behaving recently. It was true that being treated like a dog was humiliating. But Lisa now knew that she got off on being humiliated, so where did that leave her? She had always believed that dignity was something that everyone wanted. But was it what she wanted?

The easy answer, and the one that grew larger in her mind every day, was that what she really wanted was to be Miss’s lapdog. But did she even know what that meant? Miss was still in the process of training her, and Lisa had no way of knowing who she would be when it was all over. How could she say that she agreed with Miss Davenport’s plans for her, when she didn’t even know what those plans were?

There were so many questions that Lisa didn’t know how to answer, questions about her mistress, and questions about herself. Lisa felt…unfinished, like a loaf of bread that needed a little more time in the oven. There was enough of her old self to make her uncomfortable at times about her life as a pet, but not enough for her to be the person that she had once been.

Lisa felt her concerns fade away as her mistress stroked her body and whispered nice things into her ear. She smiled and wagged her tail. The future could wait. Lisa wasn’t sure in the scheme of things who or what she was supposed to be, or what her life was supposed to look like. But this, with her mistress’s arms wrapped around her and her ears filled with her owner’s praise, this would do for now.


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