A Dog/slave Weeend

38

"She talk to her sister. I overhear their conversation."

"Valerie was talking to Ashley?"

Manuel casually hung on the chain link fence gate, as if tired and done for the day. "Yeah. Ashley. That's her name."

A chili bean dripped from John/Frisky's chin into the dog bowl below his face. "What did they say?"

"This weekend. The Hagan lady's sister is coming to get you."

John/Frisky didn't know how to take this information. Finally, it was over? Or no, not yet? "You're sure that's what you heard?"

"The Hagan lady acted like she didn't care either way. Oh! But the sister..."

"Yeah..?" John/Frisky encouraged his feeder to say more.

"The sister was determined about it. Said she couldn't believe you are still chained down like a dog."

"This weekend, huh?" John/Frisky verified. "You're sure?"

Manuel turned his attention back to the cart. "You'll be gone before Mr. Hagan find out about you. If you're lucky." The feeding cart spun on it's back wheels to be pushed back down the trail. "But I still think he should know."

With that, John/Frisky could only watch Manuel wheel the cart along until he could no longer be seen.

It was some time after he finished eating when the sun started to set and the realization that he wasn't going to see Valerie again today disturbed his mind. He heard cars come and go, the veterinarian Debra Russell leave, more car doors and indistinguishable human chatter, and happy, after school laughter emanating from the direction of the house. But for some reason Valerie never came back to the kennel.

This did not sit well with him setting off the internal finger pointing. Did he do something wrong? Was she washing her hands of him now that Ashley was going to be picking him up at the end of the week?

Surely she couldn't go a day without coming out to gloat about his situation. Or perpetuate some more 'training' on him as a dog/slave. What did he do that was so wrong he wasn't warranted even a slight defamation of his manhood today?

Like the other dogs, it was best to just lay still as the night marched in.

When the morning marched in, so did Manuel and his feeding cart. His hard-hearted yet jovial disposition toward life on full display.

John/Frisky received and ate his food without much fanfare this day. "Three more days," is all Manuel said. For the most part, all of the alone, quiet time he has spent in the kennel John/Frisky had learned to enjoy his five senses for entertainment. Without a TV set or phone to run to in order to fill a void he became aware of the various smells mixed in the breeze. The slightest sounds became his absolute delight to visually identify the source. The sight most would find of insignificant importance of insects working the land in search of food and mating material. And his own need to mate, to expel his own seed as part of the great cycle of life. Alone with metal globes for hands he could bat at his erections, but get no firm stimulation.

It was one such time that Valerie appeared that day. He was quite literally caught in the act of softly rubbing his shaft when she rounded the corner.

"Poor, little thing," she said answering his question as to whether she saw him doing it or not. She stepped right up to the gate of his cage. "So close... Yet so far away." She unlocked the gate padlock, the door opened with the sound of metal on metal. Valerie, adorned in a turquoise shirt and those tight fitting jeans sported a chain leash hanging from her right hand. "Time to go for a ride, puppy."

John/Frisky backed up a step and raised a round paw. "Wait, wait," he said. "Is it true that Ashley is coming to pick me up this weekend?"

Valerie paused in mid stance ready to hook the leash to his collar. "Whoever told you that?" she asked. "Let me guess. Manuel is a busy body gossiper, isn't he?" She leaned down and completed clipping the leash.

Still pulling back, John/Frisky said again, "Is she? I need to know!"

A quick tug on the leash brought John/Frisky forward enough that she could push his head down so forcefully that his head almost bounced off of the ground. On rebound, a white tennis shoe buried its sole on the back of his neck. John/Frisky didn't have time to shut his mouth and instantly began to spit out dirt.

"You don't need to know shit!" Valerie explained. Giving time for Frisky/John to taste the dirt he's been trampling down for over a week, Valerie held the pressure of her foot solidly in place. "Un-der-stand?" she said jerking the leash three times in step with each syllable. "Speak!"

"I...I..." John/Frisky struggled. The pressure from the weight of the spotlessly clean tennis shoe on his neck contorted his body in such a manner that he was being choked.

"I didn't say like a human, dog."

"Woof... Woof!" John/Frisky anxiously said between his pinched lips.

After several long seconds Valerie's tennis shoe became heavier and heavier. John/Frisky began to wonder if Valerie was so upset she was willing to kill him over it. Then she said, "Now use your human words, Frisky."

"I... don't need to know anything," he blurted out.

"Why?" she asked in a conversational tone.

"Because I'm a dog."

The oppressing force of the tennis shoes threatened to grind his eyeball into the dirt. "I didn't hear you, Frisky."

"Because I'm...I'm a dog!"

His face rose from the ground as soon as the pressure from above slowly eased and vanished as quickly as Valerie had pinned him down. Spittle ran from his lower lip while grains of dirt fell from his cheek.

"Yes, you are," Valerie spoke from above. "And you will always be a dog. No matter where or when you are, you are a canine." With the jerk of the chain leash she added, "Got it?"

John/Frisky shook his head up and down as he wiped his wet chin with his forearm.

Suddenly he was pulled back by his collar almost toppling him onto his back. The abuse of his throat made him cough.

"Got it?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hagan."

As if done with a simple chore such as washing the dishes, she spun about, her shapely behind showing through the skin tight jeans stepping out of the kennel. "Come."

A tug on the leash and John/Frisky was on his way down the pathway toward the house. He wasn't supposed to know, apparently, but he couldn't help but wonder what the great bitch Valerie had in mind for him now.

Yet, not done with her lessons she continued while proceeding down the trail in sight of the big house, "See how good life is when you behave, Frisky? You're a dog. That's all you will ever be. Here or with Ashley, you can't change what you are."

At the back passenger door of the black SUV Valerie halted, opened the door and plucked from the back seat the worn out shorts John/Frisky had so adamantly insisted on wearing for his dog/slave weekend almost two weeks ago. She worked the shorts up John/Frisky's legs and chains until they were properly fitted. Then she had the dog/slave climb into the back seat.

The seat belt clicked into place as if she were an expert strapping in child car seats. Next, however, was completely unexpected. "I spent some time playing on my laptop and used A.I. to make a new play list for you," she said as she opened a small container. Inside were two, black, wireless ear pieces. She pulled one out with her fingernails and inserted it into John/Frisky's ear closest to her. Using the tip of her finger she pulled his face around to face her so she could easily introduce the left little, bluetooth speaker to his left ear.

Her brown eyes darted to different points of his facial features with unintentional mirth. From the front seat she produced the dog mask he had wore before. "This will hold those ear buds in place," she said awkwardly slipping the mask over his head and down until she could finally lace it up tight and lock it in place with a click. "We don't want them falling out on our ride, do we?"

He knew better to than to ask where they were going. Watching Valerie's sunglasses covered eyes in the rear view mirror she knew their unknown destination was eating at him.