A Dog/slave Weeend

40

Valerie's A.I. cloned voice in his ears stopped to silence when Valerie adjusted the settings on the old phone. The dreadful silence imitated the dark foreboding mood of the interior of the vehicle.

"Shit," he heard her say.

The police had pulled her over, and here she sat with John/Frisky belted in the back seat, steel mitts and chains, sporting a gimp dog mask.

"Shit - Shit -- Shit!"

For himself he was frightened of the exposure to strangers once again. His lifelong, most closely guarded secret was about to become a public spectacle. Yet for Valerie, this somehow felt that karma was about to pay her a visit.

"Okay," Valerie said, keeping control of the situation. "Don't say a fucking word. Don't fucking move back there." She fumbled through her purse presumably in search of a drivers license and registration. "Maybe they won't see you."

With the tinted windows, maybe they wouldn't, he guessed. He could see that the wait for the officer to actually approach the car was annoying Valerie although she took full advantage of the time to primp in the mirror and adjust her blue-green shirt just so. If any woman could get out of anything with her looks, it would be Valerie.

The torso of the police officer came to stand right next to John/Frisky's left, dark tainted window, just behind the driver. Law enforcement paraphernalia hung and dangled with redundancy from the officer's uniform.

"License and registration, please."

Prepared, she presented them between her forefinger and middle finger to the man. "What's the problem, officer?" she asked.

"School zone. You were doing thirty seven in a twenty five."

Both Valerie and John/Frisky jumped when a knock came from the passenger side. The face of a second police officer peered into the still closed passenger window. The black woman, her hair tied back in a pony tail, had full expectation that the window should have been rolled down by now.

So Valerie did.

The officer to her left said, "I'll go run these."

"Okay," Valerie said nervously. "Okay..."

The female police officer's dark eyes hopped from one possible item of interest to the other in the cab of the SUV looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then, of course, she found it sitting in the back seat.

"Who's your friend?" she asked.

"He's--" Valerie spurted like a clogged hose. "It's--"

The lady looked John/Frisky over noticing the manacles on his ankles then tracing the chains rising up into his shorts, out the top connected to a pair of stainless steel, rounded mitts by padlocks. His dog collar and mask stood out the most. She noted he had no identifying marks such as tattoos or scars.

"This--" Valerie continued, "We-- We're going to a party."

"That's not what I asked."

He wasn't sure, but to John/Frisky it looked like Valerie was about to hyperventilate. As much as he enjoyed seeing Valerie not in the dominant role for a change, he didn't want her to lose it and leave him in the hands of these cops, not to mention the cesspool of drama it would cause for both Valerie and Ashley's family.

"Do you want to be here?" the police officer asked him.

This was the moment to end his 'dog/slave weekend.' No more mental indoctrination. No more cleaning toilets with his face. No more sweeping floors with his mouth. Free use of his tongue's oral skills and crawling around on the ground like a savage ape would end.

It seemed Valerie's breathing was shallow and labored muffled by the passing traffic outside. Behind her sunglasses she glared at him in the rear view mirror probably wishing now that she had been kinder to John, possibly even cutting the padlocks with a bolt cutter after having her initial laugh at him.

"Let me get something out of my purse," Valerie said, holding up her hands in surrender. The female officer nodded and watched carefully as Valerie dug into the side of her handbag. She produced folded papers stapled together and handed them to her.

The police officer stood up while unfolding the papers. After a quick scan of them she said, "I'll be right back."

For the first time in well over a week John felt on equal footing with Valerie. She didn't try to course him or threaten him in the silence that fell after the police officer stepped back. This, of course, put John mentally off balance.

Valerie raised her arms and slowly ran her long fingers and nails through her auburn hair showing off it's healthy glow and releasing alluring smells. John/Frisky felt himself being involuntarily submerged into his submissive nature, threatening to drown him in his dog-like instincts. His inability to control it is what made him a dog.

He turned his head to try to see behind him, but the fabric of the mask blocked his peripheral vision. He may be Valerie's equal now, but he was still physically helpless to her. And summing up all the pieces at play he realized he should have answered the officer 'yes' to her question. But if asked again he wasn't sure he could do it.

"I may as well tell you," Valerie said, "Francy gave me the keys to her grandmother's house. She's moved into a home and won't sell the house until she's sure she likes it there. It would be a nice, quiet place for me to fulfill my end of our deal."

Her end of the deal? Sex with Valerie was the last thing on John/Frisky's mind right now. Yet here it was front and center suddenly. His groin stirred. His human masculinity not only craved it, it demanded it. Yet the dog/slave in him reminded him he wasn't man enough to meet the standards necessary to qualify.

"Thought I forgot?"

Indeed he thought she had, or at the very least brushed it aside as she did his humanity.

"No. A deal is a deal."

Was she telling him the truth? Surely she wasn't taking him there to make him clean. Not like this. What little housework he can do is mostly symbolic at best. John/Frisky couldn't think of any other reason that she would be going out of her way to take him to Francy's grandmother's house. Perhaps she was telling him the truth and not trying to persuade him to go along with her amongst the authorities.

The last week had been a mental spin, dizzying, out of control and overwhelming emotions. At times tidal waves of unquestioning validation of his own, lifelong beliefs that he was a dog trapped in a human body. Other times of absolute self despising of the pain he brought those around him for being what he was.

At this point in time John/Frisky wasn't sure if he was a man or a dog/slave. His future rested in the hands of the individuals partaking in this drama scene as his own hands were nothing but useless paws. What was it the universe was asking of him now? Had he fulfilled his obligations to society as a man so that he may rest in his natural state as a dog/slave?

A truck screamed by shaking those inside the SUV breaking his thoughts into realizing that the two police officers had returned. They traded places as the man looked in the front passenger window with paperwork dangling from his hands. The lady police officer stood on the driver side and said as she tapped the back glass, "Please roll this back window down."

While Valerie pushed the door button to lower the back window behind her the woman said, "You do realize, Mrs. Hagan, that this dog/slave contract isn't worth the paper it's printed on?"