Petsitting Ch. 03: Friday

High school, while certainly better than junior high, had been four years of turbulence for Hannah. Puberty hit with a vengeance. Teenage friendships and relationships alike were fraught with melodrama. And, to the detriment of her GPA, she had discovered that she was absolutely no good at English whatsoever.

Like many, Hannah had found herself somewhat adrift as she struggled to adapt to the changes wrought in her world. She cycled through various clubs and sports, dyed her hair, and from sophomore to senior year, declared that all of today's music was garbage and she would only deign to listen to classic rock. She'd gone so far as to start a petition to make "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton the theme for senior Prom.

The attitude was pretentious -- she cringed thinking about it now -- but her taste had been impeccable. Her CD rack was stacked with Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Queen, and any other album her father bought for her, full of pride that his daughter appreciated the "good stuff."

Eventually she'd grown out of her snobbishness, though Holt still had the oldies station programmed into one of his radio pre-sets in the car, and she still sang her favorites in the shower.

But Friday morning, when Guns'n'Roses started singing "Sweet Child of Mine" to herald her cell phone ringing, Pup froze in fear.

James caught her eye from his spot at the table as Axl Rose lamented a childhood lost, and held her gaze as he hummed along with the refrain. She wanted to shrink into the floor next to her food dish and water bowl and melt away in dread and shame.

The silence hung heavy in the air when the call ended. Pup held her breath, her shoulders pricking as a cold sweat broke out on her skin.

"Pup," James said at last, "I seem to remember telling you to do a few things last night. Let's review, shall we?"

He didn't have to. Pup remembered it with perfect clarity.

The first episode of The Office had just finished and James was hand-feeding her pieces of dim sum as she sat on his lap, wrapped in a blanket and regaining her equilibrium from the session he'd just put her through. The rope marks were fading from her wrists and ankles, and her rear hole, though still sore, was beginning to recover from the pounding it had taken from the dildo.

"Tonight, puppy, if you haven't already, I want you to email any clients you need to and tell them you're taking the day off," James had said. "Then put away your laptop and turn off your cell phone, because I don't want any interruptions tomorrow. I've got plans for this ass," he added with a grin and a gentle squeeze to that portion of her anatomy.

"I know you heard me, and I know you put away your laptop," James said, his voice calm and even. "What I don't know is why, if you followed the first two orders, you didn't follow the third. Did you forget?"

No, she hadn't, and that made it worse. One of her finicky clients -- the one who wanted the flyers -- had emailed her last night threatening a phone call this morning, and even though his project wasn't due to be finished for another three weeks, she figured it'd be faster and easier to just listen to whatever his problem was. She thought he'd call while James was in the shower, but he hadn't and then it was time for breakfast and she'd forgotten all about the phone.

James had to struggle to keep from smiling. If Pup had a tail, it would be tucked between her legs as far as it could go. Shamefaced, she shook her head no to answer his question.

"So, you deliberately disobeyed me?" he asked, trying to sound stern. Fuck, but she was cute. "That's a very, very bad girl, puppy. You know what happens to bad puppies."

Her whole body quivered -- shame or fear, or both. Bad puppies got punished.

James rose from the table and snapped his fingers. Pup fell into line immediately, fearful of displeasing him more. She followed at his heels up the stairs and into the guest room where her cell phone lay on the desk.

Punishing Pup was a challenge for a few reasons, but primarily because James seldom ever had to do it. She so rarely stepped a paw out of line when she was with him, and she behaved similarly for Holt. Deliberate disobedience was almost unheard of, which made him all the more curious what had possessed her.

He had a hunch, though, as he swiped the unlock screen and glanced at the missed call notification.

"Paul Barger? Is that the client who keeps pestering you?"

Pup nodded slowly.

"Did you leave the phone on specifically for this call?"

Another nod.

James sighed. "Pup, we've talked about this. I know Holt's talked to you about this. You haven't had a day off in three months and we all agreed you wouldn't work today. You know neither of us would ever do anything to interfere with your business, but you have to maintain boundaries with your clients."

She whined a little, but James shook his head.

"No buts," he said firmly. "You told your clients you were taking the day off. They cannot expect you to take calls when you're not working. Your time is valuable, puppy. You are allowed, and you need to, take some for yourself on occasion. Am I understood?"

She whimpered and nodded, staring at the carpet, blushing a deep red and looking ashamed.

And that was the other challenge in disciplining Pup. She hated disappointing people -- hence why she'd risked his anger to keep a client happy. She'd beat herself up, metaphorically speaking, for upsetting James. The trick was to give her enough of a punishment to the point where she felt she'd atoned without pushing her deeper into a spiral of self-castigation.

"Come, puppy," James directed. "It's time for your punishment."

Pup followed close on James' heels and climbed into the tub without complaint when they reached the bathroom. She kept her eyes locked on him as he began preparing equipment, trying to gauge his mood. He was doing that scary-calm thing again where his face was blank and his voice was firm and even, giving nothing away.

He had to be angry, though. She'd disobeyed him, failed him, so why wouldn't he be angry? God, she'd been so stupid! Why did she leave the phone on? Well, because it was easier to get whatever Paul Barger's issue was dealt with so he'd leave her alone, but was that really worth risking her master's wrath?

As she eyed the equipment on the bathroom sink, the answer seemed readily apparent. James had another enema bag out, and it was starting to bulge from the amount of water he'd loaded into it. He was humming "Sweet Child O' Mine" while he filled it up, to add insult to injury.

She was going to have to change her ring tone after this.

Pup shivered when the bag was ready. James had dropped the blank mask, and now he was wearing that grin that he got whenever he was about to make her endure something painful. He wasn't an every-day sadist, but he was enough of one when it counted.

"Here's how it's going to go, puppy," he said as he approached the tub, nozzle in hand. "This enema is going to be a little different than the ones you had on Wednesday. This is a high-volume enema, about twelve cups. That means we're going to have to seat that tubing high up in your colon so all of the water can get in. It's going to distend your stomach and it's going to hurt. You're going to hold it in for five minutes. If you lose it before time's up, you'll get a spanking for every ten seconds you missed."

Pup recalled the torment of the cleansings on her first night at James' house, and felt a tendril of fear sneak alongside her embarrassment and shame. Her only solace was that she didn't have to hold it for long, but even that gave her pause. If James had shortened the amount of time she was subjected to enema, that had to mean he felt that five minutes was enough to punish her -- and that must mean the experience was going to be very painful.

But she deserved it, she reminded herself. She'd been a bad puppy.

And so she didn't fight him or complain when James guided her to lay down on her right side. She took a deep breath and relaxed her muscles when he eased the lube-slicked nozzle into her asshole. She didn't even whine when he began working it up inside of her, deeper and deeper, even though the tube felt strange slipping past her sphincter and winding inside of her gut.

"Easy now," James murmured above her. "I've got to get this past the bend in your colon so that we give the water enough room to fit all inside of you. I'm going to release a little water now to help ease it in."

She quietly yipped her understanding and waited for the pressure she knew was coming.

That wasn't a surprise. The temperature was.

Pup yelped when that first gush of water hit her core. James had chilled it and it felt freezing.

"Hush," he admonished. "It's not that cold. Only 85 degrees. You've been swimming in colder."

The first cramp hit her almost immediately after, twisting her insides. It eased as quickly as it had come, but a second followed close on its heels. Pup closed her eyes in despair. This was already every bit the punishment James had said it would be and she'd only taken a cup of the twelve he'd promised.

The small amount did what James intended though, opening her up to allow the tube to wriggle higher. He fed it in a few more inches until it was seated to his satisfaction.

"Are you ready, puppy?" he asked. "Here it comes."

Bracing herself didn't help. The cold of the water still hit her with emphatic force, stealing her breath and raising goosebumps down the length of her body. She whined as it flowed, seeping into every bend and crevice deep in her bowels.

James watched from above, noting every time her face creased in pain and each instance she tensed and writhed on the bathtub floor. Normally he would kneel and stroke her hair to comfort her, but this was punishment. She wouldn't get any sympathy from him this time.

"Do you understand why you're being disciplined, pup?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice even and quiet. She had to see and hear that he was in control, that his word was her law.

"That water is in your gut right now because you disobeyed me," James continued, watching as her eyes teared up at the thought of his displeasure, and probably from the cramps as well. "And because you didn't give yourself the respect you're due as a businesswoman. I am worth your obedience, and you are worth giving yourself a break. You forgot both of those things."

She whimpered, looking up at him with pleading eyes that made him feel like a god. He loved that she looked to him for approval, for orders, for forgiveness.

"I know you're sorry, puppy," he assured her, holding himself back from stroking her skin in comfort. Comfort only came after punishment and Pup knew it. "Show me just how sorry you are. Take this enema and hold it for five minutes. Ride out that pain for me."

He watched as she tried, noting every moan, every wince, every twitch every time a cramp gripped her. James could actually see the cold sweat break out on her skin as his little puppy writhed on the floor of the tub.

Fucking gorgeous.

His fingers itched to stroke along the skin of her belly as it tightened, swelling with the water forced inside of her. His cock was tightening too, rubbing against the zipper on his jeans, but James resisted touching himself. Punishment was about discipline rather than pleasure -- even his own.

It took a while, but eventually the bag emptied. Halfway through, Pup had given up lying on the tub floor and crawled into every position she could think of to try and ease the ache. She was currently on her hands and knees, rocking back and forth as her body shuddered from cold and pain.

"Easy, girl," James said as he crouched beside her. "That's all of it. I'm going to pull the tube out now. Your time starts once it's out. Five minutes, puppy. You have to keep it inside for five minutes, or else you get spankings on top of this."

She whined her assent and made a herculean effort to clench down as James drew the tubing and nozzle from her ass.

"Five minutes," he reminded her.

He may as well have said "eternity."

Pup gritted her teeth as another cramp assailed her and eased. It was a curious sensation to feel so cold inside and yet still have sweat beading on her skin, between her breasts and down her back. She took note of it for only a second before the thought flew out of her mind when another cramp hit.

The cramps were the worst. The pressure she could deal with, even though she was fuller than she'd ever been in her life. The cold was awful, but even that she could compartmentalize. It was the cramps, those pains that struck without warning, pinching her insides until her eyes teared. She never knew how long they'd last either. She could have dealt with them if only they were consistent, but it was the not knowing that truly got to her.

Pup was concentrating so hard on the pain and keeping her ass clenched that she hardly noticed when James' gentle hands drew her to her feet. He guided her to the toilet and helped her sit before he crouched in front of her again.

"Four minutes," he said. "Eyes on me."

Four minutes. Four times sixty meant 240 seconds. Could she count the seconds? Pup made it through 15 before a cramp rolled in and cleared her mind of everything but trying to ride out the pain. When her gut unclenched, she'd completely lost sense of her time. Was the three-minute mark close? God, she hoped so. She searched James' face for some clue, but he remained frustratingly blank, watching her ordeal.

She was never going to answer the phone for Paul Barger again.

No. She wasn't going to answer the phone on her day off again. She would obey James when he told her to do something. That was the lesson, Pup reminded herself. She was being punished for disrespect and disobedience.

But she was adding a 15 percent service charge to those stupid flyers.

"Three minutes," James murmured.

For the first time, Pup felt a flicker of hope. It had been hard, but she'd lasted two minutes with this awful water inside of her. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she could make it the full five, and James would forgive her and not be mad and --

-- and then the mother of all cramps hit her with such force and vengeance that Pup doubled over and gasped and lost everything.

The enema burst out of her and Pup's first thought, even before the mortification and disappointment that she hadn't held it in as she had been told, was blessed relief. The pressure in her gut eased quickly. The cramps disappeared. The cold receded.

Thank God.

It felt so good to be empty that Pup didn't even find it hard to hold James' eyes, even though the same act had been so difficult just two evenings ago. His expression was still stern, but it wasn't angry. She relaxed marginally. Punishment was bad, but James being disappointed in her was worse.

"You made it two minutes and eighteen seconds, puppy," he told her, showing her the stopwatch on his cellphone where he'd been keeping track. "We'll round that to two minutes, twenty seconds, which means you've earned sixteen spankings."

Pup drew in a shuddering breath, still shaky from the pain and release of the enema. Sixteen wasn't awful. She could make it through sixteen.

"Clean yourself up, and then wait for me in the bedroom," James ordered. "Head down, ass up."

He waited just a moment to make sure Pup was able to move under her own power before he went downstairs to retrieve that morning's paper. The Friday edition wasn't thick, but he rolled it tightly until the paper curved in a tube that he could just barely fit his grip around. His sub was a puppy. She was going to be punished like one.

James had to take a moment to readjust his pants on the way back to his bedroom. Watching her take the enema, her normally flat stomach rounded and distended, her sweet little moans of distress and pain -- all of it had him standing at attention. The sight of her kneeling on the carpet at the foot of his bed was fucking beautiful. Her skin was covered in goosebumps, probably courtesy of the chilled water in the enema and now from the sweat drying on her skin in the cool air outside of the bathroom. Her hands were folded beneath her head, resting on the ground so she could brace her butt in the penitent pose he'd demanded.

"Sixteen, puppy," he said, making sure to keep the smile out of his voice. "One for every ten seconds you couldn't hold the enema."

She whined and braced herself.

James knelt on the floor beside her and stroked one gentle hand over the skin of her cheeks, surprising her if the way she flinched was any indicator. That was good. Keeping her off-balanced meant he was inside of Pup's head, right where he wanted to be.

James waited for her to relax under his soft touch before he laid out the first strike across the pale globes of her ass. It hit with a hollow thwap, making Pup jump and yelp more in surprise than in distress. The strike itself wasn't painful, and it wouldn't be unless he put more force behind his swing -- which he absolutely planned on doing once her ass was warmed up. For now, though, the pain came in the sting the paper left behind.

"One, puppy," he said quietly, pouring authority into his voice.

He suppressed a grin as he saw her shiver. Punishment this may be, but that tone went straight to his little puppy's pussy every time.

He laid his second smack directly above the first, the third right beneath it. The newspaper didn't leave marks like a crop or a cane, but after strikes four, five, and six, his pet's skin was turning a beautiful shade of red.

James loved that color on Pup's skin. He loved the way she flinched when the newspaper came down, and how obediently she resumed her punishment pose right after. He paused the spanking to run a hand down her now-warm ass, and smiled as her skin tightened into goosebumps at his gentle touch.

Pup hissed out between her teeth at the brush of his fingers on her buzzing skin. She didn't know how to categorize the feeling of them -- it didn't feel good, but it sent endorphins careening through her.

Her breath came in short, sharp pants as James resumed, harder than before -- seven, eight, nine. She yelped when strike ten hit just at the juncture of her ass and thighs, started crying at eleven when James began to lay stripes over the stinging area he'd already covered.

Everything kept piling on: the pain and cold leftover from that horrible enema, the sharp crack of the paper, the resulting heat that radiated, James' firm, authoritative voice counting it all out. Pup felt overwrought, stretched thin and gasping. James was bringing her to the edge of her limits, and right now she couldn't say whether she loved or hated it. She couldn't say anything at all.

And through it all, her pussy ached. She wanted James to touch it, to sink his fingers in and fuck her like there was no tomorrow, but she'd been bad, and there would be no relief.

She was a quivering, weeping mass by the time James was done with her. He shushed her with quiet words as he gathered her up and shepherded her to the bed. He tucked her in between his legs, resting against his chest, and he stroked her hair and whispered as she cried into his shirt.

"Good girl," he soothed. "That's my good girl. You took your punishment so well, and I'm proud of you. I know it hurt, and you tried so hard for me. I'm pleased with you, puppy."

She felt those words like a balm, and fell asleep feeling safe in the circle of his arms.

It was early afternoon by the time James heard the soft thud of Pup's feet descending the stairs. He had a plate set up at the table for her; normally she'd be expected to eat out of her bowl, but after her punishment, he wanted to make sure that she was feeling cared for. What better way than to each lunch sitting on his lap? And if that put her cute little tits right where his hands could reach them, so much the better.