A Dog/slave Weeend

41

"There isn't a court in the land that would recognize this as valid," the dark skinned police officer said handing the dog/slave contract back to Valerie who quickly folded it up and reinserted it into her purse.

"Surely," Valerie said, "At least one of you have used your handcuffs for something other than enforcing the law."

The two police gave each other a look across the front cab of the SUV. The man at the passenger window turned his attention to John/Frisky who silently watched from the safety inside his mask. "Is that your signature on the slave contract?"

John/Frisky nodded slightly. "Yes."

"Such as it is..." replied the police officer in reference to the childlike scribbling. Then he asked, "Do you want to be here?"

Again he could feel the stare of Valerie's gaze upon him from the rear view mirror.

"Yes," he heard himself say as if he were a puppet manipulated by Valerie's hand.

The woman in blue shifted positions leaning over and met John/Frisky's eyes through the back passenger window. "Honey, do you want to be here?" she asked in a soft, caring voice.

Again he said, "Yes," as if an overriding program took over his operating system.

The man reached across the front passenger seat handing Valerie the paper work. "Sign here that you are informed you must either pay the speeding fine before this date or show up at the courthouse on this date."

Valerie eagerly did so just to end the anxiety the situation has brought to her. Her hand visibly shook when she handed it back to him.

Both officers stood up. "At least you have him buckled in. I advise you to keep your play at home," the man said. "Not in public."

"I'm not in public," Valerie argued. "I'm in my car. Tinted windows."

"It's still out in the public, hon." the woman said. "For safety sake, it's best to save the dressing up until after you get to your party."

Flustered, Valerie could only nod her head. "Yeah. Okay. You're probably right."

"You and your husband have a nice day, ma'am," the man said slapping the top of the SUV with an audible, dismissive thunk as they both walked back to their police car.

The windows rolled up cutting out the sounds of passing traffic, sealing inside the thick tension.

She wanted to throw her head back and recalibrate her thoughts for several minutes, but to remain would seem to be asking for more attention. So she put the transmission in drive, blinkered her way back onto the street.

"Maybe those cops don't know what year it is," Valerie said. "This isn't the twentieth century anymore." She reemphasized her grip on the steering wheel, the color returning to her knuckles. "I've been very discrete with you in public. It's not like I'm flaunting you through the city parks. You're safe! Nobody could have kept you safer than me."

Who she was trying to convince, John/Frisky wasn't sure. He was just glad the police were gone and they were on their way.

There was plenty to be said, but neither was saying it. They rode in silence for several minutes until Valerie took an off ramp into a densely packed, older part of town where the houses offered only feet between them.

Using the GPS on her phone she followed the vocal instructions until they pulled over into an average older home in the middle of a block. The driveway was cracked and the lawn looked like it missed a few opportunities to be mowed over the late summer.

So this was it? Their little love shack getaway?

The Cadillac idled in the driveway. "I thought you said you couldn't have sex because of the way I'm chained down on all fours," John/Frisky said, not really wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth or upset the apple cart that seemed to be going his way for a change.

"There's always doggie style." Valerie seemed reluctant to shut off the engine but did so with a sigh.

"Look," John/Frisky said, "if you're not in the mood after this, I understand."

Valerie flung the car door open and stepped one foot out. "You understand nothing. Believe me, I'm in the mood." She gathered her phone and purse along with a purple tote bag, shut the car door and stepped up to the house.

She was probably going to check the place out, John/Frisky thought, as he watched her unlock Francy's grandmother's home with the key she gave her. Valerie disappeared inside for several long minutes before coming out, unbuckling the seat belt around him, and leading him into the house by a leash all the while checking the neighboring front yard and front windows to make sure nobody saw.

The smell hit him first. It was the musty aroma of an accumulation of items stacked and stored over a lifetime. The old home had the appearance of a museum, a space preserved in a time capsule. If not for the modern TV sitting on the cabinet, he would have thought he stepped back into the nineteen seventies.

A tug on his leash snapped him back to the present to follow Valerie through the house to the bedroom. So close to the floor John/Frisky could smell the dander stirred up by Valerie's steps ahead of him.

She stopped in the bedroom, tossed her purse and tote bag on the bed covering and sat herself down on the edge of the bed still holding his leash.

"Why are we here to do this?" John/Frisky asked.

"I'm a married woman. A mother," she said looking around the room. "I don't want to tarnish my or my family's home with... with this." She produced a key from her purse. "One and done and I'll never see this house or this room ever again." She reached around his head, found the mask lock with her left hand and inserted the key with the right.

"If you're that disgusted by the thought of.--" He was muffled by the tight end of the mask slipping over his lips as she lifted it up. "Mmmph... --by the thought of--"

"Oh, no," she stopped him. "A deal is a deal. I made it and I'll fulfill my end of it."

"Shouldn't I at least get a bath before we..."

"No. You're fine. No time." Valerie said curtly unconsciously folding the black dog mask and placing it neatly on the bed.

John/Frisky now felt the weight of guilt as he watched the pretty girl contemplate the act she had brought him here to perform. She was far too attractive to be persecuting herself with regret for something she hasn't done yet. Randy and her children deserved better.

"Look, uhm...Mrs. Hagan," John/Frisky addressed her properly still, "This will all be over this weekend. Ashley will..."

"Ha!" she laughed. "You're putting all of your eggs in one basket. What makes you think she'll make it this weekend?"

"Well, isn't she?"

"Ash has made a lifestyle out of saying one thing and doing another. Never her fault, of course."

It was true, of course. John/Frisky could recall several instances of exactly what Valerie had described about her sister.

"No," she said standing up and flipping her hair back, "you signed the dog/slave contract and all of the other papers that really do put you at my mercy on the promise of having sex with me." Valerie picked up the tote bag as she headed into the bathroom down the hall. "I'll change and be right back."

John/Frisky was beside himself that it has really come true. All of those times he was thinking of Valerie while trying to trigger himself into an orgasm during sex or masturbating was soon a reality. He didn't want to think of it as cheating. It was a business deal. After what he had been through as Valerie's dog/slave, even though he couldn't deny his own arousal from it, he deserved to be rewarded. Nobody would now except Francy. Ashley would come pick him up and this would never be mentioned for the rest of time as if it never happened.

But it was going to happen. John/Frisky reminded himself that he was too helpless to stop Valerie from doing whatever Valerie wanted to do to him. He was innocent and couldn't be blamed for her infidelity. If it was going to happen he had to absolve himself of all guilt so that he could really enjoy this once in a lifetime, unexpected opportunity.

After all, this certainly is not the first time in history that a man slept with his girlfriend's sister. How many times has this happened and everything turned out fine. He had seen her naked. He had tasted her on several occasions. This was a perfectly logical progression of things. He would remind himself at future family gatherings or around Randy that he really had little choice in the matter. Valerie was in charge.

His cock was standing in anticipation of being buried deep into this beautiful woman's body when she came back in the old bedroom.

Confused, John/Frisky had to look twice. Valerie was still dressed. Even wearing her shoes. But at her waist were straps and in the center of her groin stood a prosthetic, erect dick aiming right at him as if putting him in the cross hairs.