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The next flip of Francy's wrist was accompanied by an arm tug. The taught leash clipped to his dog collar pulled John/Frisky off of his knee almost toppling him toward her like a bowling pin.
"You have to. I'm your doggie sitter!" Francy said while patting the couch seat next to her.
She was his doggie sitter. Here he was, unable to stand up with the short chains linking his ankle shackles to his ball sack, his hands made useless locked inside round, metal mitts, chained to the same ring about his scrotum. That John guy sure was thorough when he invented this getup to feel the full effects of his dog/slave weekend away with Ashley. And of course the leather dog collar padlocked around his neck which Francy now so easily controlled him with a leash.
The woman would not take 'no' for an answer. His head was pulled by the side of the couch. Francy's grasp on the leash with her short fingers intensifying.
"Jump up here, boy," she commanded.
Jumping was not in order here but perhaps he could accommodate her with an attempt at a climb which was easier than he thought considering his restricted movements.
"That's a good boy," she cooed.
He looked over at her. He had never been this close to Francy's face. Her hazel eyes glazed over as her internal stimulation shifted gears. She held fast to the leash to prevent John/Frisky from retreating from her. Francy's eyes darted from looking into his left eye to the right and back again. The corner of her lips warped up as she realized the true nature of her power in the moment.
The eye contact with her, which was sometimes hard for John/Frisky anyway, became an overwhelming stimulation somewhere in the back of his mind and he looked away, looking down at anything other than in Francy's eyes. That's when his vision became blocked by her nose and lips with a sudden lurch into him connecting their lips for a brief moment, stealing a kiss.
"There! That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked while pulling back giving him space. Her eyes drank in his face for a few short moments.
He pulled back just enough for Francy to assert her authority by pulling him back closer to her by the leash. He was far too easy to control. Far to easy to be used. Even in his past, normal life he had relinquished all financial control over to Ashley. Ashley decided what, where and when. With everything. Like a puppy he followed her.
Francy leaned into him again simultaneously pulling the leash closer to her until their lips met again. This time her lips parted and the tip of her tongue traced over his tightly sealed lips. "Open up," she said mid kiss, lips still touching, "Kiss me."
She increased the pressure, his lips pinching between hers and his teeth. Then he relinquished and Francy's tongue darted into his mouth. After all, it wasn't the first time today that he had been violated with a foreign object. Francy cooed as she put her right arm around his neck still holding the leash taught. Her head adjusted slightly to the left and to the right to intensify the kiss, their tongues swirling about each other.
This went on as long as Francy wanted it to. When she finally reeled in her tongue her lips slid onto his cheek, kissing it over and over dropping down to his jawline tracing it with more kisses. By his ear she whispered, "I want you."
John/Frisky was pretty certain he had ascertained that information already. While he had always struggled in dealings with the female gender, this one was an open book to him.
"I'm not... I'm..." he struggled to answer, "I'm a dog."
Francy stopped her smooching and leaned back to look at him. "Yes. You're a dog. Francy told me to treat you like a dog. But let's face it, you still have a man's needs."
It was true. He did have needs. Many male needs unmet over the last week and a half. Despite his lack of attraction to Francy, her administrations had flooded his penis with blood. What he needed now was room to grow which the chastity sheath was not allowing. Manuel had calculated very well the proper, tight fit every time he had made John/Frisky sit up and beg for his food.
"What if Valerie gave you to me?" She ran the tips of her fingers over the stubble of his beard "I would own you. I would make you be a man. Still my slave, but a man/slave."
It was then that John/Frisky realized going back to being a man would be harder than it had been recently adjusting to losing his human privileges. To think that he would go back to playing house with someone like Francy without the rewards of being a dog was a fate worse than death. Of course, if he blurted that out as he was so apt to do, Francy might take offense.
Not looking at her he said, "You don't understand."
"I do. Valerie is pretty. Ashley is pretty. She's cute. But I'm short. Fat. But if I owned you, it wouldn't matter."
"That's not what I mean," John/Frisky said. "I am a dog/slave."
