The Lapdog

Chapter 6: The Last Surprise

Lisa shivered in the cold mud as she pawed at the heavy iron chain that tethered her to her doghouse. A chastity belt had been locked onto her, denying her the solace of even a moment of pleasure. The people that passed by all stared at her in contempt. Several of them took photos to share with their friends. Every single one of them was someone from Lisa’s past. She knew them, and they knew her. A few of the passersby had dogs with them. Even the dogs were better off than her, for they had won the approval of their masters. Lisa wasn’t allowed to be with Mistress, she was being punished. But the worst part was, she deserved to be punished...

Lisa woke from her nightmare and shuddered. That had been a bad one. Then she realized that this time, the horror of her dream hadn’t come from being a dog. It had come from the idea of being a bad dog.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Although Lisa still hadn’t entirely rid herself of the woman that she had once been, she was more pet than person now, and that had affected the nature of her hopes and fears. The old Lisa was afraid of being a pet. The new Lisa embraced her life as Miss Davenport’s pampered poodle, and worried about what all dogs worry about - pleasing her owner.

Nightmares or no nightmares, Lisa had no reason to be concerned on that account. It was obvious that Carla was delighted with her lapdog. Miss Davenport never seemed to run out of ways to spoil her pet, and she continued to show Lisa off with all of the enthusiasm of the owner of a new dog. Lisa was still uneasy at times about being put on display, but she took comfort in knowing that it was just one more sign of her mistress’s affection for her.

Lisa even began to enjoy some of her visits, depending on the circumstances. She still wasn’t a fan of being seen by strangers, but Miss’s friends were a different matter. By now, Lisa had been introduced to most of the small group of people that Miss Davenport genuinely liked, if you could call wagging your tail an introduction, and she knew that she had nothing to worry about.

In fact, her mistress’s friends were all quite fond of her. Master Stephen always seemed to have some of Lisa’s favorite truffles close at hand, and another of Miss’s friends, a woman named Vanessa, even purchased a heated blanket and dog bowl for when they visited her. Lisa may have lost her dignity, but she couldn’t deny that she was a far more popular dinner guest as a dog than she had been as a stockbroker.

Miss Davenport loved to show people her lapdog so much that eventually, after Lisa had become more accustomed to visiting, she began to take her pet with her to some of her business meetings. These occasions were always hard on Lisa. The offices that they went to, which in her former job would have seemed commonplace, were now forbidding. They reminded Lisa too much of her old life, and they were full of successful businesswomen who reminded her too much of her old self. Everyone stared at her. It was undoubtedly the first time that any of them had seen a girl dressed like a slutty poodle. But it wasn’t the first time that they had seen a slavegirl, which did make things a little bit easier.

Personal slaves were very much a luxury commodity, but Miss Davenport’s wealthy contacts were the sort of people who could afford them. Occasionally, Lisa would even see another slave at the meetings that they went to. Usually they were personal assistants, pleasure slaves, or, more often than not, a mixture of the two. Of course, none of their owners had dyed them pink and turned them into a dog, but Lisa still felt more comfortable at the meetings where she wasn’t the only slavegirl present. 

Miss Davenport also did her part to make things easier on her lapdog. Prior to leaving for a meeting, Mistress would caress her and brush her, while whispering nice things in her ear about what a pretty poodle she was. During the meeting, Lisa would sit on the floor next to her owner so that she could be petted. As always, Lisa enjoyed the attention, but it also gave her a sense of reassurance. The touch of Miss Davenport’s hand was a tactile reminder that she was with her mistress, and Mistress meant safety and pleasure and all good things.

Even so, these meetings were still something of a trial. However, one day something happened that made Lisa feel much better about attending business functions with her mistress. Miss Davenport was attending a high-level shareholder’s meeting for a company that she had stock in. Lisa meekly followed the pull of her leash as she was led through the firm’s offices on their way to the boardroom. She stared down at the floor and tried not to dwell on what the people they passed must be thinking as they saw a pink girl with paws and a tail trotting behind her owner, her breasts bouncing up and down as she walked.

Lisa and her mistress took their places at the conference table; Miss Davenport in a comfortable leather chair, and Lisa by her side on the thick carpet. Lisa felt thoroughly out of place. She was painfully aware that she didn’t belong at this or any other meeting. The men and women, all of whom were dressed in expensive suits, sat around the boardroom table and spoke confidently as they discussed the business at hand. Meanwhile, Lisa, nothing more than her mistress’s accessory, sat on the floor with her voice switched off so that she wouldn’t disturb anyone important.

She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least this time she wasn’t the only slavegirl at the meeting. On the other side of the room was a tall, pretty Asian woman in an extremely revealing secretary outfit. The tight skirt that she was squeezed into was so short that the bottoms of her ass cheeks were visible. A fine chain leash went up between her long legs, and Lisa could guess what it was attached to. The other end of the leash was held by a sour-faced blonde who looked like she never smiled. Lisa tried to catch her fellow slave’s eye, but she was preoccupied with waiting on her mistress.

Lisa didn’t pay attention to what the meeting was about. She had gotten good at not listening to that kind of thing. Paying attention to business discussions only made her think about the person that she had once been and was no longer, and those weren’t nice thoughts to have. It was far better to focus on more pleasant subjects, like where her mistress was going to take her for lunch afterwards, or memories of her last visit with Deborah and Michelle, or how beautiful Miss looked today. It was like a kind of aversion therapy. Thinking like a businesswoman made Lisa feel bad about herself, so over time she had stopped doing it.

By now, the impulse had become automatic, to the point where she couldn’t concentrate on a conversation about finance even if she wanted to. On the rare occasion that she tried, her mind soon wandered towards thoughts of her mistress, and of her next orgasm. But although Lisa didn’t know what the meeting was about, it was obvious that it wasn’t going well. Voices were raised, and Miss had that neutral expression on her face that she got when she was annoyed but didn’t want to show it.

In spite of her skill at enforcing her own ignorance, as the proceedings continued, Lisa began to feel even worse about how out of place she was. Her fellow slave was spending the meeting frantically scribbling down notes for her mistress. The secretary didn’t look like she was enjoying herself at all, but at least she had a reason for being there. However, as the meeting grew more and more tense, something that Miss Davenport had once told Lisa popped into her head.

I do the thinking. You just sit there like a good girl and cheer me up.

Without making a sound, Lisa crawled a little closer to her mistress and nuzzled her leg. Just to remind Miss that her pet was there, for whenever she wanted her. As Miss Davenport listened to one of the other board members, she began to stroke Lisa on the head. Lisa submitted to her mistress’s touch with a smile. She felt the tenseness in Miss’s hand...and she felt it diminish the longer Miss Davenport ran her fingers through her pet’s fur. Carla leaned back in her chair and returned her attention to the meeting with the hint of a smile on her face.

It was a very small thing for Miss Davenport. But to Lisa, it was a triumph. She had proven to herself that she did belong at that meeting. Lisa was there to put a smile on her mistress’s face, and to help her to de-stress from the pressures of work. It made Lisa feel like she was part of the team, that even though she might just be a silly pink pet, she was able to help her owner in her own small way. Lisa still often felt uncomfortable in the offices that they visited. But from then on, she was sure of one thing: in the home or in the office, her place was at her mistress’s side.

Of course, these outings were the exception, not the rule. Their occasional visits aside, Miss wasn’t a particularly sociable person, and as a result Lisa could usually be found at home with her mistress. Lisa found that her life with Miss seemed to get better and better with each passing day. Time was one reason.

There were only so many hours in the day, and at first, Miss Davenport had had to spend much of her time turning Lisa into her lapdog. However, as Lisa became ever more doglike, her mistress was able to spend less time creating her pet, and more time enjoying her pet. As always, when Miss Davenport decided to enjoy herself, she ensured that Lisa had as much fun as she did.

Another factor was that, just as Lisa had come to know her mistress, her mistress had come to know her. Miss knew what she liked, and what she didn’t like. She knew her favorite foods and activities. She knew her fears and desires. She knew her kinks and turn-ons. And she knew every inch of her pet’s body; by now Miss Davenport was able to play Lisa like a musical instrument, her skilled hands dancing across her pet’s skin until she could barely think.

Lisa’s sex drive was stronger than ever, to the point where she was insatiable. She had long since lost the battle to reign in her desires; her habit of touching herself with her paws had become uncontrollable. Of course, the activities that Miss Davenport chose for her pet only increased her arousal. Carla had an inventive and devious mind, and she was always coming up with new ideas that pushed every submissive button in Lisa’s head.

Lisa no longer felt any shame about begging to be allowed to cum, and she had no fears that her pleas would go unanswered. Although her mistress liked to tease her on occasion, Miss Davenport was not one to deprive her pet of anything for long, least of all pleasure. But she did put into place a new rule. Lisa was no longer allowed to use words to ask for an orgasm. 

If Lisa wanted to cum, she had to beg like an animal. How much begging she had to do depended on Miss Davenport’s mood. Sometimes a quick whine was enough. On other occasions, when Miss was feeling playful, Lisa would have to resort to stronger measures. Miss Davenport would make an elaborate pretense that she didn’t know what her pet wanted, while Lisa barked and whimpered and pawed at her mistress with pleading eyes like a dog begging for a treat. When Lisa was finally allowed to have an orgasm, her pleasure was all the greater for knowing that she had earned it by humiliating herself for her mistress’s amusement.

Lisa loved this new game that Miss had come up with. But it was also yet another way in which barking like a dog had become routine. Naturally, Lisa still talked to Miss Davenport, but she had also begun to use little barks and whines to express her feelings. Miss liked that, and so did she. There was something uniquely intimate about using dog noises to communicate with her mistress. It allowed her to display her emotions in their purest, simplest form, without concealment or reservation.

Lisa learned that barking could be useful, too. As she became more submissive, and more in awe of her mistress, Lisa found that she often became bashful and tongue-tied when Miss asked her a question, leaving her unable to do anything but nod or shake her head. She felt comfortable expressing herself to her mistress, but somehow the words just wouldn’t come. Dog noises seemed to provide her with a solution. They were a way for Lisa to tell Mistress how she felt when she couldn’t think of what to say.

Lisa’s life, while strange, was one that she usually enjoyed. She had even learned to like many of her visits. But one day, in one of Carla’s business meetings at home, something finally happened that Lisa had been afraid of ever since her first day as Miss Davenport’s property.

Lisa was thankful afterwards that the meeting was at Miss’s house. The experience was terrible enough as it was; it would have been unbearable had it taken place in a busy office. The meeting started out ordinarily enough. It had already been a long, busy day, but Miss Davenport had one more appointment that she had had to squeeze into her schedule.

Carla went to show in her guest while Lisa finished up a rather nice snack that Miss had left in her dog bowl. After Miss Davenport had returned, she attached Lisa’s leash and led her into the room on all fours. Ever the obedient dog, Lisa followed her mistress and sat down next to her chair so that Miss could pet her during the meeting. She looked up from her position on the floor...and felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. 

Megan.

For the most part, prior to being turned into a pet, Lisa hadn’t worked with the same group of people as Carla. But Lisa had known that eventually she would be confronted with someone from her previous life. There had been the delivery man, and that was bad enough, but she hadn’t really known him. Megan was different. 

Before she started her own business, Lisa had worked at the same company as Megan. Lisa had been the rising star, Megan the intern who brought the coffee. Megan had respected her. Looked up to her. After she had graduated from college and gotten hired full time, she had even asked Lisa for career advice. Now, Megan stood before her, dressed in a conservative pantsuit and shaking hands with Miss Davenport, while Lisa sat on all-fours with a dog collar wrapped around her neck.

Megan gasped as she got a better look at Lisa.

Don’t recognize me, don’t recognize me, don’t recognize me...

“Lisa? Is that you?”

Lisa stared down at the floor in shame. Her usual submissive thrill from being a pet had been shattered. She wasn’t a cherished companion, she was just a worthless slave in a ridiculous costume. She didn’t want to see Megan. She didn’t want to see anyone.

Carla smiled. “Oh, you’ve met? Yes, things weren’t working out for her, so I decided to buy her and make her my lapdog. She’s so much happier now that I’m looking after her. Such a good girl too. Just perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better pet.”

Megan stared in silence, utterly dumbfounded by what she saw. The corner of her mouth twitched as if she was about to burst out laughing.

Miss Davenport ran her hand over Lisa’s back. “You can pet her if you like. She’s quite tame.”

Megan leaned down and gave Lisa an awkward pat on the head. “I...um...it’s nice to see you again, Lisa. I hope you’re happy in your new...life.” 

Then she sat down at the table and began her meeting with Carla. Megan didn’t say anything else about Lisa. She was there on business, and obviously she had no idea how to talk about Miss Davenport’s unusual pet in a way that wouldn’t risk offending her. But her eyes kept sliding in Lisa’s direction, and her voice quavered every once in a while as she struggled to keep from giggling at the sight of Lisa Andrews, stockbroker, painted pink and dressed like a poodle. Lisa couldn’t stop herself from imagining Megan standing around the watercooler with her co-workers, regaling them with the story of her meeting with Miss Davenport.

A dog costume?

Yeah, but like, a really skimpy dog costume. The kind that…well, let’s just say that you could tell that Carla didn’t buy her for her brains.

This is Lisa Andrews, you’re talking about, right? Used to work here, gave that talk at last year’s conference?

That’s the one. I couldn’t believe it either. She used to act like she was such a big deal, and there she was, half-naked, sitting on her hands and knees with a tail stuck to her ass! Anyway, so then, Davenport actually had me pet her.

Seriously?

I know! It took everything I had to keep a straight face. You should have seen her. It’s a shame I didn’t have some dog biscuits with me…

Lisa pulled herself away from her daydream, but reality wasn’t much better. As she spoke with her guest, Miss Davenport stroked Lisa’s cheek and ran her fingers through her fur. She seemed even more attentive than usual; she must have noticed how upset her pet was. Lisa tried to focus on the touch of her mistress’s hand, but even that couldn’t calm her nerves. She didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to see. Lisa thought back to her first day in Miss’s home office, of how terrible it had been to be reminded of the career that she had lost, and how much better she had felt when…

It was a foolish idea. It would make her look even worse in front of Megan. But did that really matter anymore? Lisa had already been reduced from a successful businesswoman to a glorified sex toy; she’d already hit rock bottom. She crawled under the table and pawed at her mistress’s skirt, as if to lift it, and looked up at her with a pleading expression.

It took Miss Davenport a moment to understand what Lisa wanted. She gave her lapdog a reassuring smile, and lifted up her skirt at an angle where Megan wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing. Lisa huddled between her mistress’s legs as Miss Davenport pulled her black leather skirt back down around her, trapping her in its tight embrace. 

It was a childish thing to do, Lisa thought to herself, behaving as if blinding herself to the outside world would make it go away. But it made her feel better, and right now that was all she cared about. Inside her mistress’s skirt, she couldn’t see Megan, and her voice was muffled to the point where it could be easily ignored. The outside world seemed far away. Less real, somehow. The only things that mattered were within the shelter of her owner’s skirt. The feel of her mistress’s legs wrapped around her. The faint sound of her voice. The warmth of her body. The scent of her juices.

Lisa began to lick her mistress’s crotch, using slow, delicate strokes. She took great care not to drive her owner to orgasm. She didn’t want to disturb Miss’s meeting, or to provoke a reaction that would let Megan know what she was doing. But by now Lisa was skilled enough with her tongue to provide her mistress with just enough pleasure to entertain her. It felt wonderful to taste Miss’s juices, and to bury her face in her crotch so that her mistress’s scent filled her nostrils. If it had been possible, Lisa would have bathed in her mistress’s juices until they permeated her skin, until every part of her had been unmistakably marked as Miss Davenport’s possession.

Lisa felt a kind of Zen-like calm descend over her as she licked her mistress’s pussy with such care and reverence that it was almost an act of worship. Crouched between her owner’s legs, it was easy to forget that anyone else existed other than Mistress. Miss was all there was, and all that mattered. 

After the meeting wound down, Miss Davenport got up and led Megan to the door, leaving her pet still huddled under the table. Megan said goodbye to Lisa, but Lisa didn’t even look at her. Her mind was still inside her mistress’s skirt. Megan wasn’t someone she wanted to see.

Now that she was alone, Lisa was confronted with what she had done. Both Lisa the person and Lisa the pet were ashamed. When confronted with her fears, her response hadn’t been to show some courage, or to think up a way out of her troubles. Instead, she had hidden under her mistress’s skirt like a frightened puppy. It was yet another reminder that the old Lisa, the confident, self-reliant woman that Megan had once known, was almost entirely gone. In her place was someone who was mentally incapable of displaying even the slightest degree of independence. 

But from her new perspective as a pet, Lisa was equally unhappy. She wasn’t sure that she’d done very well as Miss Davenport’s poodle. Lisa knew that Miss loved to show her off to visitors, and instead she had hidden where no one could see her. She was still staring sadly at the floor when her mistress returned. Lisa looked up helplessly at her owner. 

Miss Davenport stood over her and stroked her head. “I’m so proud of you. You’re just the best lapdog ever, aren’t you?”

Lisa broke into a smile. She felt warm all over. Mistress was proud of her, and that made everything all right again. Miss Davenport led her into the living room, and stroked and played with her while they watched television. Her touch reassured Lisa, and reminded her of all the things that she liked about being Mistress’s pet.

From time-to-time Miss whispered compliments in her ear, the kinds of sugary things that you would say to a clever dog that had learned a new trick. And, in that light, perhaps Lisa had done a good job today after all. She’d pleased her owner, and for a pet, that was what was important. It was certainly more important than someone left over from a life she no longer had and didn’t really want. By the time Lisa fell asleep on her mistress’s lap, Megan was forgotten.

A few days later, Miss Davenport decided to take her poodle for a walk in a nearby park. In spite of the stares that she received, Lisa was enjoying herself. It was a lovely day for a walk, and Miss was going to take her to high tea at a garden cafe afterwards. One reason why the reactions of the passersby didn’t bother Lisa as much as they once had was that she was growing used to being taken out in public as a dog. But as she and her mistress strolled through the park, it occurred to Lisa that perhaps there was another reason why she was having such a good time. 

In the past, whenever Miss Davenport took Lisa out somewhere, any enjoyment that Lisa might have gotten from the erotic humiliation of the experience was dampened by a very particular fear: the thought that someone that she knew might see her. In fact, running into someone from her old life was often a part of her nightmares. Now her fears had become a reality. Megan had seen with her own eyes that Lisa Andrews was nothing more than a submissive pleasure pet who groveled at her mistress’s feet. However, for Lisa, having her fears come true brought with it a sense of perspective.

It was true that the incident with Megan had been horrible. But in the end, everything turned out alright. Lisa’s mistress had protected her, granting her the shelter of her skirt. Megan had eventually gone away, and Lisa had ended up where she was supposed to be; on Miss’s lap, where she was caressed and comforted and made to feel like her mistress’s greatest treasure. Today, as she walked through the park with Miss Davenport, it was like the whole thing had never happened, as if it had been just another one of her nightmares.

Lisa was aware that it wouldn’t be the last time that she would have to face someone that she knew, and the idea of someone recognizing her was still unsettling. But it was no longer an unknown terror. It was something unpleasant that had happened before and would happen again, and that in time, she would get used to. Most importantly, it was something that she wouldn’t have to face alone.

Lisa smiled up at her mistress as they walked back to the car. No, she didn’t have to be brave anymore. She had Miss to protect her. But there was no need to think about any of that right now. It was a lovely day, Miss was going to take her tea, and there was nothing at all to worry about. Well, almost nothing. She had to remember to keep her paws well away from the marmalade this time. 

In the weeks that followed, Lisa’s ability to tolerate the gazes of others steadily improved. She was still easily embarrassed, but although Lisa wasn’t entirely cured of her fears, they had certainly lessened. In their place was arousal, mixed with a sense of satisfaction at how much her mistress loved showing her off.

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t difficulties. Running into people she knew was still a terrible trial, and large crowds tended to frighten her. But if she did become afraid, she could always huddle against her mistress for protection and reassurance. Of course, regardless of her comfort level, Lisa always tried to put her best foot forward when Miss Davenport took her out in public. Much like a real dog, she worshiped the ground that her owner walked on, and her loyalty and devotion was absolute. 

There was nothing that Lisa would not do for her mistress. There was no task, no matter how demeaning, that she would not eagerly carry out. In fact, the most humiliating tasks were often the most exciting. Miss Davenport noticed the changes that had taken place in her pet’s tastes, and she loved to think of new activities for their mutual enjoyment that Lisa might previously have been uncomfortable with.

It started out as a typical Sunday afternoon. Miss Davenport sat reading in her chair, while her lapdog lay comfortably on her blanket. Carla put her book down and stared thoughtfully at her pet for a moment. Then she took out a bag of Lisa’s favorite chocolates from her pocket.

“Speak, girl, speak!”

Lisa sat on her hands and knees and looked up at her mistress in confusion. Her collar was switched on. Why was Miss telling her to speak when she knew that she couldn’t talk? Even if she could speak, what was she supposed to say? Lisa was used to having her mistress tell her what to do, but this time Miss Davenport didn’t seem interested in providing any answers. She just sat patiently in her chair, as if she was waiting for her pet to solve a difficult problem.

Lisa frowned and rubbed her crotch with one of her paws as she thought. 

Mmm, that feels nice. But how am I supposed to figure out what Miss wants me to do? I’m just her lapdog, I can’t… Wait. What does a dog do when you tell it to “speak”?

Oh!

Lisa looked up at her mistress and wagged her tail. “Arf! Arf!”

“Good girl!” Miss Davenport smiled down at Lisa and slipped a piece of candy between her lips. “Roll over!”

Lisa thought for a moment, then rolled over onto her back.

“Good girl! So clever!” Miss Davenport stroked Lisa’s belly and fed her another piece of chocolate.

“Beg!”

That’s easy! I beg for my supper every day.

Lisa rose up onto her knees and put her paws in a begging position. She blushed as her mistress patted her on the head and popped another piece of candy into her mouth. In her mind’s eye she saw herself on her knees, grinning like an idiot as she was rewarded for doing dog tricks. But that brief moment of discomfort was quickly forgotten. Lisa couldn’t wait to see what Miss was going to have her do next. 

Miss Davenport moved her dog through all kinds of tricks. After each one, Lisa got another of her chocolates. As her performance continued, those treats seemed more and more important. Lisa was having fun, and as was so often the case, she began to get carried away by her emotions. Every time that she finished a trick, she waited eagerly for her reward, and whenever Miss slipped a treat into her mouth, Lisa felt like her heart would burst with joy. 

Finally, Lisa became so excited that could no longer contain herself. She climbed onto her mistress’s lap and began to lick Carla’s face, like a hyperactive dog overjoyed by the presence of its master. Miss Davenport beamed at her.

“Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest thing! Who’s a good doggie? You are! Yes, you are!”

As Miss Davenport began to play with her body, Lisa closed her eyes and smiled, drinking in the feeling of her mistress’s hands and the sound of her praise. All was well. She was a good dog.

That evening, Lisa considered the events of the day as she lay in her pet bed. She had a lot to think about. Her dog tricks were new, but although they produced that heady blend of humiliation and submission that Lisa had become addicted to, they weren’t all that unusual. After all, Miss was always having her behave like a dog. But what Lisa really wanted to think about was how she had been trained to do those tricks. 

Miss Davenport had used her chocolates like doggie treats, as if Lisa was a dumb animal willing do anything for tasty snack. And...it worked. Every time Mistress slipped a piece of candy between her lips it had been pure bliss. Lisa had found that she desperately wanted, no, needed to earn her treats. Lisa was used to being driven by pleasure, but Miss Davenport hadn’t done anything sexual at all in the course of teaching her her tricks until it was all over. So why had those little pieces of candy seemed so important? 

Lisa looked up thoughtfully at her mistress. She was already asleep, and she wore a faint smile on her face. Lisa liked to think that she had something to do with that smile. Maybe that was part of the answer. It wasn’t about the candy. It was about being given the candy by Miss. 

To Lisa, that candy was a symbol of everything that mattered to her. It meant that Mistress cared about her and wanted to give her nice things. It meant that she had brought pleasure to her owner. But above all, doing a trick and being given her favorite candy for it was the submissive joy of her new life concentrated into one perfect moment. Her mistress gave her everything, and she gave her mistress herself.

Doing tricks became routine for Lisa. She didn’t just perform for her mistress, either. A select few of Miss Davenport’s acquaintances were allowed to see how well-trained her poodle was. Lisa would be told to beg, or to roll over, or to “present”, which involved getting on her knees, panting like a dog, and bouncing up and down to jiggle her boobs. Finally, Miss Davenport would tell Lisa to “sit”, so that she could be fussed over and receive head pats from Miss and her guests.

Lisa’s feelings about doing tricks for an audience were complicated. The whole thing was intensely humiliating, which, as always, produced conflicting emotions since humiliation turned her on. Then, of course, there was the happiness that came from knowing that she had pleased her mistress. It also helped that Miss Davenport was quite selective about who Lisa gave her little performances for; she was only expected to do them for Miss’s friends, and Lisa felt comfortable around them. Even so, there was a little voice inside her head that told her that she shouldn’t be performing dog tricks. But that side of her was fast disappearing. It was being overwhelmed by her doglike nature, that part of her that wanted to obey and to enjoy the pleasures of her new life, and above all, to be everything that her mistress wanted. 

As time went on, Miss Davenport began to switch Lisa’s voice off more often. Lisa never got the impression that her mistress was doing it to punish her or to shut her up, Miss just seemed to enjoy it. For her part, Lisa wasn’t upset by not being able to speak. In fact, some of her happiest moments were spent in silence at her mistress’s side.

After all, she didn’t really need to speak. Lisa was already accustomed to using dog noises to tell Mistress how she felt. With a bit of practice, she soon learned how to use them in combination with some body language to compensate for not being able to talk. It wasn’t difficult; by now Miss Davenport could read her pet’s mood and facial expressions with ease. Of course, in Lisa’s previous life, being robbed of her speech would have been crippling. But as she became more and more doglike, her needs changed. 

Abstract concepts like finance, or freedom, were of no more interest to Lisa than they would have been to a real poodle. She wanted more simple things now, the kinds of things that a tame animal might want. Good food. Soft blankets. Pleasure. And, above all, a kind word and a gentle touch from her mistress. Much like a dog, most of Lisa’s needs were basic enough that they could be easily communicated with barks and body language. But although Lisa wasn’t upset by her enforced silence, it did have an impact. 

When Lisa’s voice was turned off, she developed a mindset that encouraged observation. Because she was unable to speak, she was forced to listen, and to watch. Miss Davenport was not always the easiest person to read; although she was effusive with her praise, she tended to keep her inner thoughts well hidden. But like a faithful dog, Lisa became sensitive to her owner’s emotions.

Lisa could tell who Miss liked, and who she didn’t. She could tell when Mistress was genuinely happy, and when she was just pretending. She could tell when Miss was annoyed, or when she was stressed. Lisa was always ready to cheer her mistress up, whether it was by performing a trick, by crawling between her owner’s legs and pleasuring her, or just by laying her head on Miss Davenport’s lap so that Miss could relax by stroking her pet’s fur. Lisa became proud of how quickly she could read her owner’s moods, and how good she was at making her mistress smile. 

Miss Davenport stared down at her phone as she sat in her armchair by the fireplace.

“Honey, can you bring me today’s paper? It’s in the hall.”

Lisa got up from her spot in front of the fire and gave a little bark to tell Miss that her lapdog knew what to do. Her voice hadn’t been switched off, but Lisa was becoming increasingly non-verbal in her habits. She trotted into the front hall and frowned as she stared down at the Sunday edition of a financial paper that she herself used to read before Mistress had made her her pet. Lisa didn’t feel the urge to read anymore. If she was supposed to know something, Miss would tell her.

The question was, how was she going to carry the newspaper? Her paws prevented her from picking it up. Lisa supposed that if she tried she might be able to use both of her mitts and hold the paper between them, but she’d probably end up dropping it. Besides, she felt sure that using her paws like that wasn’t what Miss really wanted.

Although Lisa always did as she was told, she was proud of the fact that she didn't just do as she was told. Lisa always tried to think about what Miss would like best, and to come up with new ways to bring pleasure to her mistress. She stared thoughtfully at the rolled-up newspaper. Picking up the paper with her paws wasn’t the answer. After all, if Mistress had wanted her to use her hands, she wouldn’t have given Lisa her nice fluffy paws. Then, in a flash, Lisa realized exactly what she should do. It was perfect. In fact, Lisa was getting turned on just thinking about it. Miss would love it.

A few moments later, Lisa entered the sitting room on all-fours. She carried the newspaper in her mouth. Lisa crawled to Miss Davenport’s armchair, got on her knees, and presented her owner with the morning paper, every inch the loyal dog. As Miss Davenport took the paper from her mouth, Lisa wagged her tail and smiled up at her mistress.

“Arf! Arf!”

Carla returned her smile and switched on Lisa’s panties. Lisa began to moan and touch herself with her paws. But then her mistress did something really exciting. She began to read the paper. That simple, innocuous act was the most dominant thing that Miss Davenport could have done. Lisa sat on the rug, pawing at herself like a mindless animal, while her owner, the picture of elegance in her silk bathrobe, examined the paper that she used to read. But it suddenly occurred to Lisa that there was something missing. Lisa wanted everything to be perfect for Mistress. She wanted to be perfect for Mistress.

Miss Davenport heard a muffled bark and glanced down at the floor. There sat Lisa, looking up at her...with her mistress’s slippers in her mouth. Carla gazed down at her pet with a fond expression as she put them on.

“Good girl!”

Lisa smiled, and once again took her place on the rug between her owner’s chair and the fire. She lay at her mistress’s feet in a state of submissive bliss, her eyes half closed as she stroked herself with her paws. 

Perfect.

One day, Lisa noticed something in her observations of her mistress. They had just left a large pet store at which Miss Davenport had bought some dog paraphernalia that Lisa was sure would be put to creative use. Carla, of course, had been cheerfully oblivious to the disbelieving stares of the other customers. Being paraded around in public had made Lisa blush, but the thrill of being led through the store by her leash made the whole thing worth it. At one point she had responded to the barks of another customer’s terrier by growling at it, which had confused the dog, astonished its owner, and produced a smile from Miss Davenport. Lisa and her mistress now shared a similar sense of humor.

As they cut through the parking lot, Lisa thought about the business meeting that Miss had taken her to prior to swinging by the store. She winced as she remembered the cold rage that her mistress had unleashed on an uncooperative banker that she had been dealing with.

I’m lucky Miss doesn’t talk to me that way, I would have been scared out of my wits!

But then, as she thought about the meeting that they had just attended, something occurred to Lisa. As a general rule, Carla tended to be cold and businesslike. But Carla was never cold and businesslike with her. The way that Miss Davenport acted around Lisa wasn’t just nice, it was totally out of character. It didn’t fit her personality at all.

Miss was friendly with a few people that she liked. But Lisa had never seen her mistress treat even her closest friends with the same affection that she showed to her. Even when she was in her all-business ice queen mode, if the subject turned to Lisa, Miss Davenport immediately thawed out and began bragging about her pretty pet. Miss never acted that way about anything or anybody else.

As they walked through the parking lot, Lisa saw a stout, cheerful woman loading a newly-purchased mouse into her van. Judging by the mountain of packages in the back seat, she had bought one of everything in the rodent supplies aisle. The mouse peered out through the bars as it sat nestled in the wood shavings that had been placed in its cage. The woman smiled and wiggled her finger at her new pet.

“Heel, girl!”

Lisa turned to see that she had fallen behind. Miss Davenport patted her thigh as she summoned her wayward dog.

“Heel!” she said with the hint of a smile on her face.

Lisa obediently trotted to her mistress and stood still as Miss Davenport reattached her leash. “Honestly, you get so fluffy-headed sometimes. Come on, girl. Time to go.”

Lisa stared up at Miss Davenport. She could see no trace at all of the anger that her mistress had displayed at the meeting, or the cold, remote attitude that most people associated with her. All she could see was Miss having a fine day out with her lapdog. Lisa stood on her tip-toes, and in a gesture more animal than human, gave her mistress a lick on the cheek.

A loving owner and a safe, comfortable cage, Lisa thought as she looked back at the woman and her mouse. Not a bad day for a pet.

Not a bad day at all.

Sometimes Lisa thought about how much she had changed since Miss had made her her lapdog. She was no longer the same woman, and she no longer thought the same thoughts. Life as a pet had changed her. Miss had changed her. And Lisa had no complaints. 

After all, was there really anything wrong with someone helping you to fit into a new life? If you were trained to find happiness in different things, did that make your happiness any less real? Lisa didn’t think so. She liked the person that she saw when she looked in the mirror, and that was enough for her.

Lisa took an increasing amount of satisfaction in being Miss Davenport’s favorite possession. She looked upon herself as...unique. After all, her mistress had many business associates, but Lisa was her only pet. It was true that Miss Davenport treated her friends and business contacts with far more respect, but it was her lapdog that she chose to spend her time with, and at the end of the day, it was her lapdog that she was closest to. Lisa had a place in her mistress’s life that no one else could fill. That gave her something that in her early days as a pet had been in short supply: pride.

When Lisa had lost her career, she had lost the thing that she was most proud of, and there was no way for her to get it back. The only job she was suited for now was as a company mascot. But in time, she had discovered something else to be proud of. She wasn’t just a dog. She was Miss’s dog. 

Miss was beautiful and clever and glamorous and just perfect, and out of all the people that she could have chosen, she’d picked Lisa to be her lapdog. That was much better than having a career. What was the success of getting a new client, compared with knowing that she had made Miss smile? What was being asked for advice compared with being told what a good girl she was? Lisa found that being her mistress’s pretty little pet mattered more and more to her, and holding on to the person that she had once been became far less important. The old Lisa was fading away, and the new Lisa didn’t really miss her.

One evening, about eleven months after she had lost her freedom and gained a mistress, Lisa received a series of surprises. She had guessed that something was up; that afternoon she had been taken to the groomer’s, where Michelle and Deborah had outdone themselves in decorating Lisa with ribbons and bows and making her look her finest, as if readying her for a special occasion.

Lisa had also noticed the preparations for some kind of event in the ballroom, but that was nothing new. Although Miss wasn’t a party person, she occasionally held dinners that served as networking events for her business contacts. Lisa was not expected to attend, for which she was grateful. Being shown off to one or two people or even a small group was something that she was used to by now, but the idea of attending a formal party made her shudder.

Beforehand, Lisa was always taken upstairs, given a pat on the head, and put in her dog crate. Being locked up in her cage was always comforting; it kept her safely away from the guests downstairs. Therefore, Lisa was surprised, and more than a little nervous, when instead of leading her to her crate, Miss Davenport clipped the leash to her collar and led her towards the ballroom.

"Miss?"

"Hmm?"

"When does the party start?" asked Lisa.

Carla yanked on Lisa’s leash and thrust her tongue between her lips. It wasn’t a kiss between equals. It forced its way through her teeth, making a prisoner of Lisa’s mouth. Lisa moaned as her mistress’s hand slipped between her legs, playing with her like the willing toy that she had become. Miss Davenport gave Lisa’s pussy a little squeeze and whispered in her pet’s ear.

“Who does this belong to?”

Lisa looked up at her owner. She was so excited that she found it hard to speak. “You, Mistress. It…it all belongs to you. You can do whatever you want with your little pet. Anything.”

Carla gave Lisa’s ass a pinch that made her squeal. “That’s my girl.”

“Miss?”

Lisa paused for a moment while she struggled with her emotions, and with her words. This was one time when barking and wagging her tail just wasn’t enough. She had something that she very much wanted to say, and she was trying to think of how best to say it.

“Miss…” Lisa’s voice wavered, “don’t ever let me go.”

Miss Davenport stood in silence. For once, she was the one who didn’t know what to say. Then she wrapped Lisa’s leash around her hand so that her grasp was inescapable. “No. Never. You’re mine and you’re going to stay mine.”

The two of them smiled at each other. Neither of them had said exactly what they meant. But both pet and mistress had said everything that needed to be said. 

Then Miss Davenport opened the ballroom door to reveal a room full of people.

Lisa’s happiness turned to dread. It was as if one of her nightmares had come to life. Everyone was dressed in elegant clothes suitable for a fancy party - except for Lisa. She began to panic. Lisa tried to pull away, but Miss Davenport still had the leash wrapped around her hand in a firm grip. She tried to tell her mistress that she didn’t want to go in, but Carla had turned on her collar, leaving Lisa with nothing to do but whimper like the dog she was.

Lisa pleaded with her eyes. Miss Davenport just gave her a patient smile and stroked her nose, as if reassuring a timid pet that had been frightened by something that was really quite harmless.

“Easy, girl,” she said in a low, soothing tone. “We can’t have you missing your own party! You’ll feel better in a moment.”

Lisa shook with fear as Miss Davenport led her to a little stage at the front of the room. Everyone was looking at her. As she stood before the crowd, Lisa tried to distract herself with her training lessons.

My mistress keeps me safe. I leave the thinking to my mistress. I’m my mistress’s pretty little pet. Her pretty little pet. That’s me. I’m her pretty pet and she’s my mistress. My mistress keeps me safe…

She said them to herself over and over, using them as a shield against her fears. Mixed with her lessons were memories. Memories of being bathed and brushed, of being held and petted, of being safe on Miss’s lap. Lisa started to calm down. She was being ridiculous, this was no way to act in front of her mistress’s guests. Frightening as the crowd might be, she should know by now that there was no need to lose her head, not when Miss was there to take care of her. 

"Welcome," said Miss Davenport in a loud, cheerful voice. "You all know about my pet, but only a handful of you have seen her. So, I thought that a party would be the perfect way to introduce her to everyone. And to celebrate, I've just put through the paperwork to make a little change."

Paperwork? thought Lisa, What's Miss talking about? What change?

"To go with her new life as my house pet, she's been legally given a new name."

This was something Lisa had never counted on. Her name? It was one of the few parts of her old self that she had left.

"I’ve decided to call her Muffin!"

Lisa's eyes went wide as she heard some light clapping. Muffin? Her name was Muffin? It was the silliest name that she could have imagined. It was a name that spoke of someone small and helpless, of a foolish, utterly adorable little pet that no one could possibly take seriously. But the most shocking thing was...it fit. It was a name that suited what she had become. A tame, friendly creature who obeyed with a smile and left the thinking to someone else. But perhaps, Lisa thought to herself, there was something nice about her new name. 

Muffin wasn’t just the name of a dog. It was the name of a very particular kind of dog. 

Muffin was someone who would be pampered and doted over. Someone lived in a world of extra treats and soft blankets, of gentle treatment and warm, patient smiles. Someone who was never lonely, because her owner never went anywhere without her. 

But hearing her new name only reminded Lisa of the gap between her mistress's guests and herself. She wasn’t like them; she was just a silly poodle with an equally silly name. She didn’t belong here. She belonged in her dog crate, with its comfy pink cushions and its strong wooden bars. But Lisa forgot all about her cage when she heard the rest of what Miss had to say.

“By the way, don't expect my Muffin to join in our conversations. I’ve permanently disabled her speech, so from now on she'll be making do with barks,” Miss Davenport gave her pet a little wink, “and the occasional moan when she’s feeling frisky."

Lisa froze. Permanently? She was never going to speak again? Not ever? Lisa had grown used to not talking, she was still stunned. She was facing a room full of people and she couldn't say a word. She'd never be able to say a word. Lisa stared out at Miss’s guests, all of them dressed to the hilt, and all of them there to see her. All she could do was yap at them like a spoiled lapdog.

But then again, she thought to herself, that’s all she was. Miss’s little lapdog. Who would want to hear her talk? She was just Miss’s fluffy, friendly poodle, to be petted and played with. She loved it when Miss played with her. She loved it when Miss tamed her, when she made Lisa hers. And now Miss had taken her voice and her name from her, completing her transformation into a soft, helpless animal, a creature made for pleasure...

Carla smiled as she spoke to the audience. "Of course, since she can’t talk, I'm not able to ask Muffin how she feels about her new name, but I think she's just told us."

Lisa’s face turned from pink to red as she looked down and realized that while her mistress had been talking, she had fallen into her habit of rubbing her crotch with one of her paws. She'd been pleasuring herself in front of everyone, getting off on her own humiliation. Lisa started to pull her paw away, but Miss Davenport stood behind her and held it gently but firmly in place. Then she wrapped her other arm around Lisa’s waist.

She pressed down on Lisa’s paw, rubbing it over her pussy, faster and faster. As the additional pressure from Miss Davenport’s fingers did what Lisa could not have done by herself, the crowd and the fear began to fade away, until nothing existed except for her mistress and herself - and the ever-growing heat between her legs. With a series of barks and yaps and moans, Lisa came in front of the whole room.

At that moment, Lisa left the last of her old self behind her. She'd been given a ridiculous name, touched herself in public, then orgasmed while everyone watched. Unable to speak, she couldn't even apologize for her behavior. Lisa couldn’t face that. But a pet could.

Pets didn't have to worry about pride or embarrassment. They only thought of obedience and pleasure. A pet’s only responsibility in life was to please its owner, and Lisa was very good at pleasing her mistress. In fact, pleasing Miss was what she was best at! After struggling with herself for so long, letting go of the last of her humanity wasn’t hard at all. It felt as natural as shedding a heavy coat in the presence of warmth.

Lisa had long been afraid of crowds, and now she had humiliated herself in front of one. But ironically, she didn’t know how the audience had reacted. They might have laughed, or cheered, or stood in shocked silence. Lisa had been so wrapped up in her own emotions that she didn’t see what the crowd was doing. When she did come to her senses, Lisa looked up and saw her mistress’s face, and that was all she cared to see. Miss Davenport reached into her pocket, and took out another surprise. A pet tag, shaped like a dog bone. She held it up so that Lisa could see it.

MUFFIN

Property of Carla Davenport

Lisa held still as her mistress clipped the tag to her collar. She felt a little tingle between her legs. It didn’t feel like she was getting a piece of jewelry. It felt like she was being marked, as if Miss Davenport was planting her flag, claiming Lisa as her territory. 

It suddenly occurred to her that with her voice gone, she couldn’t tell anyone that her name was Lisa. Everyone would call her Muffin, until even the people who knew her old name had forgotten that she had once been Lisa Andrews. They would only know her as Muffin the lapdog. To Lisa, the submissive excitement from that thought was mixed with an odd sense of freedom. No one would ever expect her to read or to write, or to say clever things, or to make a decision for herself, because no one would ever see Lisa as anything other than the happy little pet that she had become. 

Miss Davenport smiled down at her lapdog as she finished adjusting her collar. "There we go! That’s my pretty girl.” 

She gave her pet a hug and turned to the audience. “Everyone, meet Muffin!” 

The partygoers began to clap, as if someone had won a prize or received an award. They might have been clapping to congratulate Lisa on becoming Miss Davenport’s pet. They might have been clapping to congratulate Miss Davenport for taking an intelligent, professional woman and turning her into her obedient lapdog. But Lisa preferred to believe that they were clapping for both of them, for finding each other.

As Carla led her around the room by her leash, Lisa was thankful that Mistress had taken her voice from her. She didn't have to reply to anyone, or to come up with excuses for the way she had behaved during Miss’s speech. If anything needed to be said, her mistress would say it. When a conversation started, she just stood quietly while her owner did all the talking. She spent most of her time staring at Miss’s smiling face. That was the solution to her fear of crowds and her even greater fear of what other people thought of her. Miss was happy, and she was happy. Nothing else really mattered.

Lisa thought for a moment. She’d made her peace with the fact that she would never speak again. But what was the last thing that she’d said before her voice had been taken from her? It seemed like something that she should remember.

Don’t ever let me go.

Lisa smiled to herself. They were good words, even if she hadn’t known that they would be her last.

The food was excellent, as was the wine. Lisa wasn’t able to hold onto a plate, nor did she try. Miss Davenport simply lifted a wineglass to her lips or fed her by hand, both providing for her pet and illustrating Lisa’s submission to her mistress in all things. Lisa didn’t think about whether she was hungry or thirsty, or what she wanted. She just accepted whatever she was given, secure in the knowledge that her mistress always made her choices for her, and that they were always the right ones. 

Although she recognized some of the people from their visits, and from Michelle and Deborah’s, many of the guests were unfamiliar to Lisa. She had no idea who they were or how they might behave around her, given that they had just watched her masturbate. Of course, it didn’t really matter. Miss’s opinion was the only one that counted. But Lisa found that the people at the party were all quite taken with her.

As Lisa and her owner circulated around the room, Carla showed her off to her guests. They were delighted at her responsiveness, at the way that Lisa moaned softly when Miss Davenport cupped her breast or gasped with pleasure from a touch to the inside of her thigh, or how she closed her eyes and smiled when her mistress stroked her fur. Carla occasionally allowed a guest to pet her toy poodle, and all the while they would tell her how pretty she was and what a good dog she was.

As the evening went on, Lisa began to feel a sense of achievement. All of the guests enjoyed seeing and petting her, and it was obvious that Miss was proud of her. There was no doubt in her mind that the party had been a success. Of course, with a horny petgirl to amuse the guests, it was bound to be. Certainly none of the attendees seemed eager to leave early. But finally, everyone had gone, and Miss Davenport led Lisa up to her bedroom.

Lisa went to lie down, only to find that her pet bed wasn’t there anymore. She frowned down at the floor in confusion. Had she done something wrong?

"No,” Miss Davenport said in a quiet, almost shy voice. “No, not there, Muffin."

Lisa turned around and quivered with anticipation as she saw that her mistress was naked apart from the strap-on she now wore. Miss Davenport held Lisa by her collar and ass and tossed her onto the bed. Lisa’s face lit up as she saw that Miss had one final surprise up her sleeve, and she’d left the best for last. Her mistress’s bed now had two pillows, side by side. One of them was as pink as her skin.

All of Lisa’s doubts and fears were gone now. She understood herself. She understood what she really wanted. She even understood her mistress. And she understood what to do next. Lisa allowed herself a brief moment of amusement at the appropriateness of her position. Doggy-style.

Afterwards, Lisa lay in a little-spoon position with her mistress curled around her. Miss Davenport was already asleep. Her arm was crooked tight across Lisa's belly in a way that managed to be both possessive and affectionate. Pinned against her mistress like a stuffed toy and unable to move, Lisa was both worn out and at peace. Miss had taken her with strap-on and tongue, with her body, with her hands, fulfilling all of Lisa’s fantasies and putting a final seal of ownership on her, if any had been necessary. As Lisa lay quietly in the bed that she now shared with her mistress, she thought back to the goals that she had once had for her life.

1. Spend the rest of your life as a millionaire
2. Live in a mansion
3. With all of your needs met

Well, she thought with a touch of humor, two out of three isn't bad.

She closed her eyes and smiled as she drank in the sensation of her mistress’s arm wrapped around her. Miss’s embrace felt like home. It felt like safety. It felt like love.

Muffin fell into a peaceful sleep, with no dreams.

- The End