A Dog/slave Weeend

68

Valerie spun her head to see what was unexpectedly holding her wrist in place so tightly. She instinctively jerked and pulled on the unrelenting iron grip to free her arm.

The dark desire recede as quickly as the anger of being held against her will left her face. "Oh, Manuel," Valerie said relieved, relaxing her arm.

His left hand carefully took the switch from her now reluctant grasp. No longer clenching the instrument of correction Valerie's fingers danced in the air until Manuel released her wrist from his hold.

"I was just..." her voice trailed off with a sudden introspection of her own motivation.

Manuel grunted as he tossed the stick to the side. "Might want to get some aloe-vera cream on that."

Valerie looked back down to eye her handiwork. "Yes. Yes, or course."

Valerie stood up lifting her foot from the chain holding Frisky's face to the concert floor. She quickly went into the house.

Frisky remained in place, ass in the air, head to the ground awaiting what his superiors planned to do with his menial form next. He was a dog/slave, owned property by those who could do anything to him that they wished to do. All bridges back to humanity burnt to a cinder. The path back to any kind of manhood erased from the landscape of his mind.

Returning just as fast as she left, Valerie was unscrewing the lid of the jar as she walked back to Frisky. Manuel stood, obviously noticing the wet patch between her thighs, bur remained unquestioning, non-judgmental, and ready to get back to feeding the dogs before his day off.

Manuel didn't ask nor did Valerie offer any explanation as she sat back down where she had been to administer the soft, soothing cream on Frisky's backside.

She started with two fingers dabbing the cream on his flesh. Then she opened the palm of her hand and began to spread it evenly across the welting areas.

Manuel grunted once more turning to leave. He walked away with obvious pain of his own in his knee.

No longer holding the switch Valerie contrarily sought to heal the wounds she herself inflicted. Long silence fell between her and the dog/slave as she delicately smeared the remedy about his butt cheeks. She paused only once to push her thick rimmed, clear plastic glasses back up her nose with the tip of her clean pinky fingernail.

This was not how she intended this to go. Unlike Frisky who dealt with disabling submission and illusions of being a dog, Valerie had been able to live a satisfied life without allowing her control issues to interfere or feed the dark desires that lurked beneath. For the male it was different she supposed. Even Randy couldn't separate the little, unexpected things he liked about her from his sexual desires.

"This is a good lesson for a little thing like you to learn," she finally said in an attempt to change the dark mood. "This is what life for my dog/slave is like. Obey, be a good boy and you get rewarded. Be a bad dog, and you will be punished harshly."

The lump of flesh between her legs on the ground quivered at the cold application of the cream.

"You need to firmly understand that before I send you to be with my sister."

Good dog...bad dog... Easy concept. Frisky didn't want to think anymore about it running the risk of thinking the wrong thing, or worse yet, acting on his wrong thinking. So he didn't think at all. All doubt had been washed from his mind of Valerie's ultimate ownership of him. She had full control, full authority in whatever mood she was in to treat him in any manner she chose to. Nobody cared. Nobody was going to come save him. His life was hers to do with as she pleased. This thought punctuated by a soft humming coming from her of that same, long forgotten, eighty's tune.

Satisfied with her artistic skill of spreading the lotion evenly across the wounded plains of flesh, she wiped her knuckles on Frisky's back, and then rubbed the rest into her hands. Valerie sighed while spinning the top back on the jar. She was uncertain of what to do with the dog/slave.

Clean it up, ready for Ashley? Toss it back in the kennel and let her take it from there?

She looked to the backyard as Manuel pushed the feeding cart over the path into the trees where the kennel was set up. Reaching down she ran her palm over his head, down his neck and down his back. Poor, puppy Frisky probably doesn't feel like eating anyway, she decided.

"I'll be right back," Valerie said to no one in particular as she got up and went in the house. Only gone for a minute she came back with a towel and Frisky's freshly cleaned yet still ratty, old shorts.

Tossed on the chair like a rag the shorts were, Valerie let herself down onto the concrete deck next to Frisky. The drenched elastic yoga pants between her inner thighs gave her a chill when exposed to the outside air.

She unbuckled the gall gag harness on his head and carefully pulled the ball out of his mouth, followed by the now soaked panties she had knotted up and tossed in. Setting that aside she took the towel and wiped it across his face which was still staring down at the concrete where she had left him.

"That's a good boy," she said unsure if he could even understand her.

Not even grimacing, Frisky let his owner rub across his face, dabbing up blots of spit, tears and even sweat. But he didn't respond even when the rough textured towel caught his flesh and tugged on it unpleasantly.

Once she was satisfied that he was dried off, even though she couldn't see his down turned face, she set the towel aside and rest her elbow across Frisky's back while dangling her hand over the other side.

"I've done what I can for you, Frisky," she said.

The dog/slave offered no response. Not even a twitch.

Valerie took her glasses off with her left hand, looked them over and put them back on. She looked up into the sky, now clear of any clouds or threats of rain. A deep breath helped calm her own nerve endings during the silence. She couldn't help but ask herself if she had done the right thing. Admitting to herself that she may have unleashed some of her own bent enjoyment out of this last exchange of power, it was still necessary.

"You know," Valerie said breaking the silence, "you should be hating me right now." She slid her arm forward until her hand was on the side of his neck. She stroked the back of his far, right ear with her fingertips and nails. "Are you in there, Frisky?"

It took several heart beats until Frisky slightly nodded his head up and down. Valerie felt it through her fingers more than she saw it.

"That's a gooood booooy," her voice exaggerating the words, her fingers tickling over his ear. "It's okay to hate me. I'm your owner, not your friend."

The silence spread around them again as she allowed those thoughts to settle into his doggie mind. It was Manuel's aged, labored breath drawing near behind her that made Valerie aware he was approaching.

"Dogs are fed, Mrs. Hagan," Manuel said. "Even your dog/slave. Is there anything else before I go?"

"No, Manuel. Thank you." Valerie turned her head slightly to project her voice in his direction. The movement caused strings of auburn hair to fall across her glasses. "You have a good Saturday off."

"You sending your dog/slave off with your sister this weekend?"

A deep breath later she said with a pat on Frisky's head, "That's the plan."

"Si," Manuel said. "Sunday only two dogs to feed."

"Si," she answered resuming her relaxed posture, fingers slightly stroking Frisky's ear.

"Adios, dog/slave," Manuel said turning to leave pausing only to add, "You do as you are told. Always." Then he hobbled off, the rain apparently affecting his ailments. Not counting the giggle, Valerie remained silent until she heard the truck start and leave the property. "He's going to miss you."

Frisky considered any indication Manuel may have given him over the last two weeks to think that might be true. He came up with nothing. The throbbing pain in his welts had been dulled by the aloe-vera cream allowing a marginal clearing of his thoughts.

"It's okay to hate me. If I were you, I wouldn't like me either."

Although his knees hurt on the hard concrete, his toes bent on the hard concrete, and his elbows hurt on the hard concrete, he did not move.

"So, what more can I do to make you hate me and want to leave?"