A Dog/slave Weeend

59

The shoe closet was just as Frisky remembered it. Rows and rows of shelved shoes, boots and sandals of every known and unknown brand from floor to ceiling. Here he was again minus the dog/slave hood and talking phone above him.

The bright lightning strikes and loud thunder were dimmed to a dull roar in the closet in a closet.

"Don't let him fool you, puppy. It was his idea to get you out of the weather," she said. "I wasn't worried about it. Whatever you would have gone through I'm sure you would have thought it was a sacrifice for me and what I want, when in truth," she said with a wrinkled up nose, "I just don't care." After cinching together his wrists and ankles through one padlock, she retrieved the ball gag. "I probably don't need to do this, puppy. Especially in your current mental state," she said as she forced the ball gag harness down over his head, plopping the ball into his mouth between his canine teeth, and closing the buckles to make sure it was secure until someone decides to take it off of him.

Standing back up she said, "I don't think you can go anywhere like that. Do you?" She laughed. Frisky would just sit in her closet, bound and helpless while she and her family would go out and enjoy each others company during the thrilling danger of the raging storm. From her lofty position above him she paused to admire her work. "I do think you are the cutest dog/slave I have ever seen." By that measure he won hands down as she had never seen a dog/slave. Not in real life anyway.

Frisky watched from eye level her inverted heart shaped butt exiting the shoe closet, closing it behind her and heard the sound of a flipping switch from outside coinciding with the sudden blinding darkness.

Frisky's only entertainment for the next several hours was the occasional flash of light seeping in under the door with the accompanying thunder muffled by the depth of the house in which he was. That, and reveling in the knowledge that his owner was taking care of him better than anyone ever has.

Frisky dozed off unaware of how long. He leaned up against the wall of the shoe closet taking immense comfort as in a warm blanket in the fact that he was right where his owner wanted him.

The voices picked up in volume outside the closet door.

"No honey," Valerie said, "you can't sleep with us tonight. You made it through school and you played after. If you have a little tummy ache go to sleep and in the morning you'll feel better," Valerie's mommy voice said.

There was some more muffled speech until Randy's voice picked up. "Now go to bed, Punkin, like mommy said."

"And be quiet. Daniel is almost asleep," Valerie added before the sound of the master bedroom door shut.

In the closet Frisky couldn't hear the thunder any more and wondered if the storm had passed. It would mean he would be walked back out to the kennel and put to bed.

But this didn't happen immediately as the two voices conversed back and forth in inaudible tones. A few laughs filled in the quiet moments.

If he wasn't mistaken, Frisky thought he heard a third and fourth voice. Muffled but clearly a voice. It was his own assessment that there were more people in the room until there was a laugh track that followed.

So the humans were watching TV in bed and forgot all about him? Frisky wanted to be a good dog but for the life of him he had to urinate before he goes to sleep tonight. How long he could hold it, he didn't know.

It became painful now that he started to think about it. The full bladder would not let him not think about it either. The worry of bursting actually entered his mind when a light under the door flipped on. This was followed by the sound of feet rustling the carpet.

The door opened inward and Valerie's naked knees stepped in. "Need to go potty, boy?"

Oh, yes. Very much so.

Valerie turned as she said, "Oh, I forgot." Leaving the door open she stepped back out of the closet. "I need your keys to the dog/slave, honey."

There was a grumble of sorts in the voice of Randy. Then Valerie returned with the three keys dangling from her fingers.

He was unlocked from the front hog-tie letting him get up to follow her out of both closets and into the bedroom. The TV was turned low.

There was another grumble that was Randy for sure. He looked from his position on the bed, pillow propping his head and said, "Where are you taking him?"

"Outside. The french doors."

"He can use the bathroom like everyone else."

Frisky paused along side Valerie's legs and the hem of the pink nighty that hung just above her knees.

"It wants to go outside," she insisted.

"But 'he' needs to use the toilet."

"It's chained up so it can't"

"'He's' not chained up so much his ass can't sit on the toilet." Randy reached over to his nightstand grabbing his drink, swirling it, then taking a bold sip. His face didn't hold back his contempt for the situation his wife had put them both in.

The thunder in the distance rolled and the rain shifted direction splattering against the glass of the french doors.

"Fine," Valerie said and took Frisky into the master bathroom.

"He can't go potty by himself?"

"It can't pull its own shorts down."

Randy tossed the covers off of his legs. "I'll do it."

"Already done!"

Frisky was encouraged to put his back to the toilet, raise his rump as far as the chains would allow, and back up until he was over the toilet bowl. He made it with the heavy chastity sheath dragging across the front of the toilet seat. He looked up at the big mirror which was reflecting Valerie's back to him as she hovered over him watching. His shorts lay in a puddle on the floor at her feet. Out in the bedroom he could see Randy's legs as he recovered them with the sheet and blanket.

The toilet wasn't new to him, he had used one many times before. But this seemed all wrong and he had a hard time mentally opening the lever to empty his bladder.

"Come on, boy. We don't have all night," Valerie encouraged.

Willing it to happen for her he let go and the urine splattered its way around the chastity sheath metal and trickled in many streams down to the toilet bowl. When done he clambered off of the bowl and returned to the floor where he belonged, but not before Valerie could give the chastity sheath a good wipe with toilet paper.

"Don't want dribbles on the carpet," she said.

When Frisky finally looked at her face she was wearing glasses. Just plain glasses of no particular fashion brand. The frames were thick, clear plastic taking on the color of her hair behind it, and a faint reflection of the pink nighty she wore. The not particularly attractive glasses looked beautiful displayed on her face.

She kicked his dirty shorts into the corner of the bathroom before stepping out and shutting off the light. Frisky followed her out back into the bedroom.

Valerie literally jumped in bed and giggled. Randy raised his drink so as to minimize the bouncing mattress from sloshing it over the rim. She reached to her nightstand and retrieved a used joint and re-lit it. She took a good, heavy toke slowly letting out the smoke through her nostrils and mouth. She then handed it to Randy.

In the recesses of Frisky's mind he realized his life was in the hands of two high and drunk people.

"Wanna see something funny?" she asked Randy taking the cigarette back. "Frisky, come!"

Frisky's heart filled with devotion when he heard his name in her voice. He went to her side of the bed and sat as she swung her legs over the side.

"Sit, boy."

He did.

Valerie took a big drag on the joint, then bent forward as if ready to kiss him, her nose almost touching his. Her hands cupped about each side of their faces and she slowly blew the smoke into his.