Puppy

My owner. You have no idea how much you mean to me. I wonder what my life would have been like if you had not adopted me to be your pet. Relationships. Millions of people across the country looking the members of the opposite sex over, looking for one-night stands, or weak, short-term romances. Some even look for a long, happy marriage, but all it takes is one night of intense emotions. One night where a spouse's feelings of anger, selfishness, or even boredom are greater than their love for their partner, and the relationship they are trying to have. The only thing holding many of these... relationships, together is intercourse. Sex. It's powers of lust have destroyed entire empires, as it flaunts it's temptations in front of those with too much time on their hands, or those with too many hands and not enough time. When it is over though, one participant may decide that it wasn't good enough, and may just get up and leave the next morning, never to be seen or heard from again, at least not from the same boy or girl. There is nothing in the relationship that restrains them.

Restraints. Hmm, this word sends a tickling feeling through my stomach. I am an exception to the rule of sex. My owner adopted as her pet me so that she can derive pleasure from my captivity. I do not decide when I get sexual arousal, how it is administered, when to stop it, and I cannot leave afterwards. Hell, I may not even get it, that is not my decision, but my life is better that way. Like a puppy, my owner pets me, feeds me, loves me, and I return her affection by pleasing her. This is me. I am my owner's puppy. She watches with enjoyment as I pad around her house, and giggles when I show my desires for her affection. My pleasure is her pleasure, I am happy when she is happy.

I lie here, bound, on the floor. My eyes stare alternately between the ceiling and my food bowl, which sits a few inches from my head. I wonder what rewards or punishments will come upon me today. I ponder these thought with myself and as I do, I begin to roll over to stand up and eat from my dish. This is harder than it sounds. You have lovingly restrained me and turned me into your puppy. My hands and forearms are wrapped with electrical tape to my shoulders and biceps, effectively shortening my arm's length by half. I am forced to walk on my elbows. My legs are no better. They, too are shortened, my feet and calves wrapped to my thighs, forcing me to walk on my knees. Elbows and knees, this is how I stand, and how I walk, because it pleases my owner to see me this way.

As I am now standing on all fours, my thoughts go to my crotch. Most of the time you have me wear plastic wrap around my pelvis, encasing my private areas like a chastity belt. You have so lovingly applied it to me, pressing my dick tightly against my stomach, so that I cannot hump against a footstool corner or chair leg to climax without your permission. Some days you leave a pair of nipple clamps on my tender flesh while you are at work, to give me something to do. Usually I will frustrate myself more trying to rub the clamps off against a table leg or bench than I would have if I would have just left them alone, to settle into a dull ache. Will this be my fate today?

You are not awake yet, as the sun began shining through the windows only a few minutes ago. I lean down to eat some food and lap up some water from my doggy bowl. I have a ring gag on, making it slightly difficult to eat, but it is possible and it reminds me that I am a doggy, unable to make intelligable words, just soft whimpers and the occasional yelp of pain, or distress. As I lap up bits of food in my bowl, my doggy tag jingles against my collar. Yes, I have a collar, I am most certainly owned. Dangling from my collar is a heart-shaped metal dog tag. "Marie loves her little puppy... ", my pet name is cute and affectionate, you say it fits me well. I am eating noisily and the air conditioning just clicked on. I didn't hear you come out of your bedroom. I feel a pat on my underside, I turn my head quickly, startled by your presence. "Morning puppy," you say cheerily. Inside I feel wonderfully warm, your being near me makes me so happy.

You pour yourself a bowl of cereal and sit it on the table, then you turn around and grab a spoon from the drawer, and a carton of milk from the refrigerator. You set them on the table too and turn around to pick up my leash, then you reach into a cabinet and pull a medium-sized white garbage bag out. You lay the two interesting items down next to me and pour your milk into your cereal bowl. "Roll over puppy," you say so sweetly. I roll over onto my back and you pick up the bag. You slip it over my head and wrap the leash around and around my neck, sealing me in with just the air in my lungs and the air in the bag, about fifteen minutes' worth. I let out a soft inquisitive whimper, and you answer, "just a little breakfast entertainment." You pat my plastic crotch again before sitting down at the table to eat.

You watch me wriggle around as I try to get the bag off, just as if you were watching television. I love the way you are so contented to watch me struggle. I know that I'm okay, as you sit there, I know you are protective of my life, but as the bag sucks in and out slightly, I wonder how it would be to pass out here. You would simply watch as I slipped away. As I am just about to fall unconscious, you would lean down and kiss me lightly. I am shaken from my thoughts when the plastic is sucked into my nostrils. I shake my head around a bit, to make a way for the air that is still in the bag to get to my nose. "Don't suffocate yet, I'm only about half-way done," you say casually before taking a bite.

After about ten more minutes you finally finish and begin to get up and put your empty bowl in the sink, still maintaining your casual composure, even though I have been breathing rather heavily for the last five minutes. You are still walking around the room, getting ready to leave for work, glancing at my writhing form on the floor as if I was just a little puppy that had gotten into something that you knew I'd get out of. You slowly make your way over to me, swaying as you walk, feeling your own sensuality as you relish in the amount of control you have over me. You lean down and begin unwrapping the leash from around my neck, 'til you can pull the bag off. "Come this way puppy," you say as you walk towards the basement door. I suck in the cool, fresh air before struggling onto all fours as quickly as I can, and follow.

You open the basement door and lead me down the stairs. The stairs are not steep at all, making it rather easy for me to get down to the basement floor. Once I am down on the cool concrete, you walk over to a small cage. I've been in this cage many times before. You put me in it when you're going to work and you think that someone may drop by, other times just because you feel like putting me in it. It is just big enough for me to stand up on all fours, and turn around in with some difficulty. I've grown to enjoy it inside, I feel secure. Once I am inside you take the food and water dishes out, and begin to walk up the stairs to refill them. "Stay," you say firmly as you walk up the stairs. I whimper loudly enough for you to hear me. I know you like my mewings.

After a few minutes, you come back down, holding my dishes more steadily, indicating that they are filled with food for me. I make more contented sounds, as you come over and set them in my cage. I feel so special, the way you care for me. My metaphorical doggy tail is wagging, and I look up at you lovingly as I eat from my bowl. You take a pair of nipple clamps out of your pocket and clip them on each of my nipples and stand up to look at me. You lean down and kiss me on the head before closing the cage door and locking it with a padlock. "If you take those nipple clamps off before I get back and take them off myself, you'll get a spanking," you say rather sternly, "hear me puppy? you don't have permission to take them off. I'll see ya later, be good." You turn around and walk up the stairs and turn the light off.

I linger on the last signs of your presence. I listen as you lock the basement door, to keep me safe. I hear your footsteps walk around the house grabbing things before you leave. Once I hear the front door slam shut, I listen for the car to start. I can't hear it, it's too distant. I have had this disappointment before, but I always try to hear more, to indicate that you are still near me. Oh well, I wonder if you will think about me while you're at work. I wonder if you'll pick up some plastic wrap on the way home, or maybe some rope or something interesting, like some plastic bag big enough to fit me in. I wonder why you put me in the cage today. Six out of ten days you'll just leave me to wander around the house, to excercise my body or to try to find something to get off on. I know that if I get off without your permission while you're gone, you will punish me somehow when you get back, but I still try.

Here in this cage I don't really have anything to rub my nipple clamps off on, and I certainly don't have anything to rub my plastic pelvis against. All these frustrating situations combine and get more frustrating as the day wears on. After a while though, the combined frustration begins to become pleasurable. I roll over in my cage countless times during the day. When I roll over onto my back I feel my doggy tag fall against my chest. It reminds me why I am here, in this cage, in the basement of your house. I am forced to stand on my knees and elbows, my mouth is held open by a ring gag, the nipple clamps are aching terribly by now, and I have no way to release my sexual tension, but the collar that I wear makes it all perfect. It makes it all worth it. It makes it all pleasurable. I belong. I belong to my owner. My owner loves me. "Marie loves her little puppy...."

I've drifted in and out of sleep a few times. I dream of many things, among them, bondage, mummification, ownership. Suddenly I am wide awake. I don't know why, until I hear your keys in the front door upstairs. My heart leaps, could you be home so soon? I've lost all track of time while I was asleep. What if it is one of your relatives or some friend of yours who knows where you hide the key to your house? I don't worry though. You are the only one who knows where the keys to the basement are. I am safe from discovery. I hear casual steps around the house, I try to keep track of where they are going. After a few moments of listening, I'm almost sure that it is my owner's feet making those sounds. I hear the lock at the top of the basement steps being fiddled with. The door opens slowly and I see a widening sliver of light from where the door is. You flip on the switch and I see you walking down the stairs.

"Miss me puppy?" you call down towards my cage. I quickly get to my feet, (knees) and make happy sounds for you. You unlock my cage and let the door swing open before walking over to one side of the basement. You grab a roll of plastic wrap and walk over to the center of the basement. You set the roll of plastic on the floor and kneel down a few feet from the cage, "come here puppy." I come out of my cage and crawl over to you. You begin rubbing my back and neck with your wonderfully familiar hand. With your free hand you roll me over onto my back, and begin rubbing my stomach and chest with your one hand, then playing with my nipple clamps with the other. I lean my head back on the ground and close my eyes, enjoying your attention.

You then stand up and slip off your panties, before preparing to sit down directly on my open mouth. I delight in the thought of giving you pleasure. You pull a piece of plastic wrap off of the roll and stretch it tightly across my face. I suck in with my mouth and try to push out with my tongue to make a hole in the plastic. Before I can do so, you sit down on my ring-gagged mouth. My mind switches from searching for air to pleasuring you. I try as hard as I can to push my tongue far enough to touch you. After a few moments you stand up a bit to slip your hand under yourself. You poke a small hole in the plastic about the size of your pinky.

I gasp for air for a few seconds, until you sit down once again. I forfeit the pursuit of air for the sake of your pleasure, as I push my tongue through the plastic and begin swirling and stroking you the best I know how. We sit there together for a few minutes, until you lift up a bit, giving me another breath of air. Eventually you climax and your love juices drip down onto my plastic-covered face. I've fulfilled your needs for the moment, and for the moment I am happy and contented. You stand up, pull the plastic off of my face, and the clamps off my nipples. I give a doggy yelp from the pain. You grab my leash and attach it to my collar before leading me up the basement stairs. You tie my leash to the kitchen table and turn the air conditioning on since you know I'm very hot from being partially wrapped and in the basement all day.

You begin making your dinner for yourself, "get as cool as you can cause you're going to be totally mummified after dinner."

I think my metaphorical tail is wagging. I lay on my back and relax while you eat your dinner above me. Once you are done, you unhook my leash from my collar and tell me to get into the living room. As I wait, I wonder how you will mummify me. I wonder if you will let my hands and legs loose from their doggy positions. You probably will, since I have been this way since yesterday, I love being your doggy but I definitely need to stretch and being your mummy slave will be just as enjoyable.

Once you are done cleaning the kitchen you finally come in to the living room. You have a pair of handcuffs, a pair of butterfly nipple clamps, a pair of ankle cuffs, a blindfold, and a ballgag. You start by taking my ring gag out of my mouth, letting me stretch my jaw for a moment and then filling my mouth once again with the ballgag. Then you put the blindfold over my eyes, rendering me blind and a bit more helpless. You pick up a pair of scissors from somewhere, (I didn't see you bring them in) and cut the tape off of my legs, before quickly putting the ankle cuffs on around my ankles. Then you cut the plastic wrap from around my pelvis. I am feeling more stretched and comfortable with every restraint you loose from me and every joint that is able to move around a bit.

Now I begin to feel your mood change to a sterner one. "I'm going to clip these butterfly clamps on your nipples and hold the chain from them in my mouth, if you don't cooperate when I cut your hands loose, I'll pull on these so hard that you'll feel your nipples ache a week from now," you say sternly, "understand?" I nod yes. We both know that we don't have to worry about "escape" or any kind of rebellion, but it is just fun to keep me under your control. It adds to the mind games included in bondage, when you know that you really don't have any say in the matter of what happens to you. You cut my hands free, and restrain my hands once more with the handcuffs behind my back. I enjoy having my hands behind my back because I feel I could escape or at least put up a good fight with my hands cuffed in front, not that I would, but once again, mind games.

You sit on the couch and rest your feet on my chest, while you turn on the tv. You must've had the remote on the couch and the movie in the vcr beforehand. As I listened to the sounds of the movie, I quickly realized it was one of our favorite bondage videos. I know this one by heart. You probably chose this movie on purpose since I don't have to wonder what's going on, blindfolded as I am. Once the movie was finished, you clicked off the tv and stood up beside my bound body lying on the floor. I feel you step around the room. Soon enough, I hear the static hiss of plastic wrap being removed from the roll. You begin by having me sit up, while you wrap my arms seperately, then together, behind my back. Once my arms are thoroughly wrapped, you take my handcuffs and nipple clamps off and wrap my arms some more. Then you wrap around and around my chest and stomach, wrapping my arms to my body. You lay me back down and begin wrapping my legs individually, before encasing my boy-parts in another chastity wrap, then you wrap my legs together into a single column. You proceed on up, wrapping around my entire body until you've expended the entire roll. Now I am covered in plastic from my toes to my neck.

You walk away for a moment and I wonder what you are doing. Then I hear the repetitive click of your camera, apparently taking pictures of my bound form. Finally you begin wrapping my head with a new roll of plastic wrap, poking holes where needed for air. Once my head is satisfactionally wrapped, you begin stroking my shiny, plastic form. It feels so wonderful as every touch is magnified by the plastic. I am not sure how this happens but it does, and it feels wonderful. As you stroke my mummified body, you slowly work your way down to my feet. You had only put one thin layer of plastic over my feet and I wondered why. I suddenly realize why as you begin tickling my feet mercilessly. My laughs come out as a muffled explosion of yelps and moans. I am so ticklish and you know it. Sometimes I will make myself stop laughing for a few minutes, to try to make my tickling attacker lose interest and stop, but my owner knows this, and you tickle me continuosly, knowing full-well how much I want to laugh. My valiant attempt to stop my own laughter lasted for about thirty seconds before it became unbearable and I had to let loose with another torrent of unsilenced laughter.

This goes on for what seems like an hour but in reality it was probably only about fifteen minutes. "Are you comfortable enough to last the night?" you ask me. I nod submissively. You accept my position as suitable for the night, and leave to go up the stairs to your bed, to get a good night's sleep. "Sweet dreams puppy," I hold on to your final words of the night in my mind. I shrug my shoulders, wriggle my toes, twist my hips, test my bonds. I turn my head and something pulls and jingles slightly under the wrappings. I know what it is. I know it is a small heart-shaped piece of metal that means the world to me. A small, heart-shaped piece of metal with six words on it. "Marie loves her little puppy..." This is my life. I give pleasure to my owner. I derive my pleasure from hers. I do not decide my own fate. She decides my fate, and I couldn't be happier.

01.04.09