Puppy Girl: The Stray

Hunter looked down at the poor creature. She was a brave little thing. That had to hurt. She hardly whined at all. He started at her neck, washing her as gently as he could, cleaning off the sand, salt and dirt. She smelled bad, stinking up his house. This would help.

She would make the occasional groan or whimper when he hit the worst spots, but she didn't complain. He looked at her breasts, big tits, only purpose in life was to snare helpless weak men. She was built for temptation. He squeezed them roughly and she whimpered, looking up at him piteously. He looked down and saw the skin was scraped raw, her nipples bruised. Dragging herself across the sand and wood, probably. He looked closer and saw another splinter. "Stay," he said softly.

He got his tweezers and returned to her, lying in the water obediently. He lifted her breast, and removed the embedded sliver of wood. He saw her nipple harden. Of course. Sluts. Slaves to their hormones.

He retrieved his facecloth and took his time cleaning her thoroughly. He felt some anger when he reached between her legs, but she whimpered softly, opening her legs, and turning her face away. Not her fault she was dirty there. She was filthy everywhere. He was especially careful with her tortured feet, cleaning her ankles and between her toes, but leaving the soles alone, hoping the soaking helped.

"Roll over," he told her.

She did, obediently, quickly and carefully. She had difficulty keeping her head above water, and he opened the drain. He started with her back, and cleaned her thoroughly, gently. Her sunburn was much worse on her back. He wondered how she'd been able to lie on the couch without crying. She was blistering between her shoulders, and her bottom was a bright red, where her bathing suit had once covered her.

He stopped the water from draining when there were only a few inches remaining. Fewer cuts and scratches on her backside, thankfully. He turned the water back on, checking the temperature, then slid her forward in the tub until her head was under the running stream. He washed her hair, taking a long time, getting the seeming endless quantity of sand out. He shampooed her long blonde tresses twice.

Hunter debated cutting them. They were more trouble than they were worth. Yet they seemed to fit her. He'd leave it alone for now.

When he was happy with her cleanliness, he lifted her out of the tub and sat her on the counter. He handled her carefully, patting her dry. He toweled her hair dry, and moved her legs, opening the door underneath her, searching until he found the blow-dryer he knew he had but so seldom used. A major drain on his power.

Hunter plugged it in, drying her hair, running his fingers through it, removing the knots and tangles. She was brave, stoically sitting through the ordeal. He brushed her hair, carefully avoiding scraping her scalp. When the brush moved smoothly without resistance he turned off the blow-dryer, and lifted her.

She leaned against his chest, rubbing her head against his shoulder. He almost dropped her when she licked his shoulder.

He turned to the back of the house, opening the door into his bedroom. She whimpered, squirming in his arms, obviously frightened. "Stop," he warned her. "You need healing. I have no interest in your scrawny, salacious body. Be good, or I'll throw you back outside and let you fend for yourself."

* * *

Amy's heart had leapt in her chest. She knew it. The bedroom. He would use her and there was nothing she could do about it. She found herself twisting unconsciously, squirming in his arms. Please don't do this. Not now. Please. Let me rest first. Let me sleep. Let the pain go away.

He snapped at her, commanding her to stop, letting her know that he had no interest in her as a woman. She was only his pet. He'd take care of her only as long as she was a meek, obedient, puppy.

She could do that. As long as she needed, until she healed and rescue came. It wasn't that onerous. He had been gentle with her, although she could use another feeding.

He placed her on the bed, carefully. "Roll Over," he commanded. Another silly gesture, as if she didn't know what roll over meant. She was happy enough to get off her back. The pain was constant, throbbing, itching.

She sighed, embarrassed at her own ability to stay in her role, as the cool ointment was rubbed into her shoulders. Within moments the pain diminished. She felt his big firm hands move over her skin, missing no part of her. He paid more attention to her ass then he probably should, but as the pain down there faded, she realized how burned the soft white flesh on her rear must have been. He worked all the way to her ankles, and then did it all over again. She was half-asleep by the time he finished, relaxed for the first time in days.

He caressed her head. "Good girl. Such a good girl. Roll over now."

She was embarrassed. Naked on his bed, completely exposed. Amy rolled over, her hands briefly moving to cover her breasts. She saw that dark look again, the scary one, and moved her arms to the sides. His eyes softened. "Don't be afraid, puppy-girl, I won't hurt you. Your breasts do nothing for me."

She whined softly, reaching out and brushing his leg with her hand.

"Relax. Sleep if you can."

He poured the lotion in his hands, starting at her shoulders and doing each of her arms, before moving down her chest. She felt herself blushing, embarrassed, as her nipples hardened. He covered her breasts carefully, his hands soothing. He worked down her body, stealing the pain, leaving comfort in his wake. He opened her legs, and she almost died, knowing he'd be able to see her involuntary reaction. He rubbed her pubis, and her throbbing pussy, gently, with no more attention than he'd given her elbows. Less. He continued down her legs, coating her thighs, inside and out, covering her knees and shins, finishing with her feet. Just as he had on her back, he traversed her body a second time and she relaxed totally. The excitement waned, exhaustion taking its place. She could barely keep her eyes open.

"Good girl," he whispered, caressing her body from head to toe. She woke when she felt his hands brushing her hair back, gently rubbing her face. She closed her eyes again, his thumbs rubbing the cooling ointment into her cheeks, across her forehead.

She looked up at him, surprised to see a tenderness in his visage. He wiped his hands carefully, then rubbed Vaseline into her lips, thoroughly, paying special attention to the sides of her mouth, where they met.

"I'm going to take care of your feet now. I'll apply a light bandage, and change it in the morning. If it hurts too much, let me know."

She nodded, mutely.

He left her, returning with his first aid kit.

"Naughty girl, letting your feet get like this. You'll have to take better care of yourself. I can't spend all my time pampering and bathing you."

He was applying some disinfectant ointment that stung. She twitched, her legs trembling in spite of her effort.

"It's Ok, girl. Don't fight it. If it hurts, you can let it out."

She whimpered a couple of times, even whispering 'Ow' when he took care of the worst of it.

He bandaged her gently. "What will I call you, girl? Speak."

"Amy," she said softly.

A grimace appeared on his face. Amy. He'd known a Amy. One of the bitch's best friends. Another traitor and useless cunt. "No," he snapped. "You're not an Amy. You ... you're a ..." Hunter was stuck. He didn't know what to call her, but it certainly wouldn't be Amy. He looked her over, taking in her sorry appearance, her sunburned skin—

"Red. I'll call you Red."

She lowered her head, and whimpered softly, fearful of his displeasure.

He saw her response. She thought he was angry. He put his hand on her leg, stroking her softly. "Red was a good girl. A very good girl. Master's very proud of her. Are you hungry, or do you want to sleep?"

"Hungry, Master. Please." She kept her voice low and soft, which seemed to satisfy him.

"Rest. I'll bring you something." He sat beside her, his hand caressing her side, rubbing her belly softly. "Normally, puppies don't sleep on Master's bed. They certainly aren't fed from the table. This is just for tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, Master. Thank you."

Amy woke when she felt her shoulders lifted. Master held her up, sitting behind her, letting her rest against his chest. Her body was covered with a sheet, cool against her burning skin. He lifted a piece of meat to her lips and she ate it, gratefully. It was juicy, tender, spicy. "Mmm."

He laughed softly. "I thought you might like that." He fed her another piece, then a french fry, hot, crispy, salty. It tasted homemade. She sighed leaning back into him, opening her mouth for her next treat.

A bite of asparagus, firm, slightly crunchy on the stalk, not boiled to death. Buttery. He fed her the rest of the stalk before she got another piece of the delicious meat. When she'd finished her small meal, he wiped her mouth carefully, looking into her face. She giggled and gave a little bark.

He laughed. "What? Still hungry?"

She shook her head, wriggling. She barked again. Short, high pitched eager. She looked over at the tray. Where a piece of chocolate cake stood, begging to be eaten. She smiled, opened her mouth, panting eagerly. "Rowf!"

She felt the chuckle in his chest. He broke off a piece, and fed it to her, sliding it between her lips.

Amy had died and gone to heaven. Deep, dark rich chocolate. Smooth and creamy. She opened her lips eagerly for another piece. Bite by bite, she finished her treat, until nothing remained but a few crumbs. Delicious looking crumbs. She looked over and barked again. "Rowf!"

"Greedy girl. You must be feeling a little better." He dragged his finger across the plate, capturing the last few crumbs. He put his finger in her mouth and she sucked it clean of all the chocolaty goodness. He pulled it out of her mouth and offered her another finger, and then his thumb.

He brushed her hair with his fingers, rubbing his face against it. "You've had a long hard day, puppy-girl. If you need to get up to use the bathroom, you can go inside, for tonight. I don't want you walking on those feet, understand?"

She nodded, rubbing her head against his hands. She felt his fingers scratching at her scalp, down the back of her head.

He eased out from under her. "Roll over, Red."

It took her a moment to associate her knew name with who she was. Once she did, she rolled over onto her stomach carefully. He lotioned her back, top to bottom, gentle but thorough. "Roll over," he said softly.

She rolled onto her back, her energy dissipating, the exhaustion catching up with her again. "Poor tired puppy-girl. Sleep now."

She closed her eyes, relaxing as his hands traversed her body. They felt amazingly good, comforting. She opened her legs for him, working to stay calm as he stroked his firm hand over her weeping pussy. She was only a little surprised when he rubbed her there a few times, before moving onward.

* * *

Hunter cleaned up the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen, putting away the first aid gear. He placed a tall glass of water and some more Tylenol beside it.

He locked up, turning off the lights. He was still restless. It had been such an extraordinary day. He hadn't been that productive writing in ages. He was not only caught up, but ahead. He wasn't about to slack off; when the Muse made her presence felt, you chained the bitch down and wrung everything out of her you could.

He wanted to do something for his puppy-girl. You reward them when they're good, and she'd been very good. He went to his closet and got some materials out, before retreating to his work area beside the study. When he was happy with his efforts, he took a brief shower, cleaned up, stripped down and climbed in his bed. He couldn't resist reaching out and stroking her soft hair. Such a good girl.

Hunter awoke in the night, the girl beside him moaning and restless. He checked his clock. It was after 4:00. The painkillers were most likely wearing off. He felt her forehead, and found it feverish. He climbed out of the bed, and woke her gently. "Red, girl, wake up."

She took a few moments to come to her senses. She looked up at him and pulled back, covering herself nervously. He waited patiently, until she relaxed. "Time for your medicine."

She sat up, and he held the pills in front of her. She opened her mouth, extending her tongue, and he placed two pills on it. He passed her the water, and she drank half of it passing it back to him. She looked anxious, and she got on her knees, lifting her paws in supplication. "Rowf?" she barked softly.

"Speak, puppy-girl."

"Pee," she said softly.

He pulled the sheet off of her, picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He sat her on the toilet, and turned away, giving her privacy until he heard the flush of the toilet.

He picked her up again, holding her close, nuzzling her hair while she licked his chest. He held her in one arm while he straightened the sheets, laying her on top of them. "Roll over."

She rolled onto her belly, and whimpered sweetly while he lotioned her back, paying extra attention to her badly burned bottom. "Roll over."

She rolled onto her back, opening her arms and legs. He took care of her again, not neglecting her breasts, and making sure she was well coated between her legs. Her nipples stayed calm, and her pussy didn't seem to be excessively wet. "Good girl," he told her.

He lifted her, and pulled the sheet back, slipping her between them.

Hunter got back into the bed, lying beside her, stroking her hair for a long time before he fell back asleep.

* * *

He didn't want her. Not like that. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or pissed off. He'd touched her all over, spending more time on her tits, and ass, even more between her legs. Touched her like nobody had before. Yet he'd never gotten hard for her.

She'd almost freaked out when he woke her, standing naked next to the bed. She knew it had to happen eventually. She was attractive. She'd heard it often enough. For some reason being pretty but not putting out made you an immediate tease. She never led guys on, but that didn't seem to matter. Her looks alone were a tease, apparently. Men wanted her.

He hadn't. He'd medicated her, helped her to the bathroom, and rubbed her entire body, quite thoroughly. Maybe he was gay. That would explain a lot.

Amy had liked the feeling of him caressing her hair, until his breathing slowed, deepening.

She could do this. It wasn't that horrible. Some moments were even nice. The man could cook, that was for sure, and that cake was to die for. She hoped there was more of that. She'd be a good puppy-girl for another slice of that yummy decadence.

She could feel the inclination of the mattress, sagging toward him. She scooted over, leaning against his side. He shifted and she was nervous he'd cuff her or snap at her. Instead he reached over sleepily and petted her shoulder and arm, endlessly until she drifted off.

* * *

Hunter woke, uncomfortable. Bothered by the weight against his side. He'd slept alone for three years, and the company in his bed was disturbing.

He couldn't fault her. She was lying quietly, unmoving. She was turned away from him, only her back and rear-end making contact against his side. He reached out for her, feeling the warmth of her skin. She was still too hot, the Tylenol might be helping, but she had a lot to recover from. He turned toward her, stroking her soft hair. Quiet like this, almost innocent, he could appreciate having her there. If only they could stay like that when awake.

Hunter leaned closer, smelling her hair. She shifted, moaning softly, and he felt her soft backside press against him.

He was hard.

He backed away from her quickly, angry with himself for letting the little demon in his bed, and for reacting to her. The girl rolled onto her back, her face pinched, a little groan escaping her lips. Shit.

He scurried to the bathroom, relieving himself angrily, punishing his traitorous stiffness, trying to blot the vision of her from his head.

Tricky little slut. Playing him. Making him want her like that. Damn whore. Like all the rest. He grunted as he came, leaning over the toilet, venting his balls for the first time in months. It had become less necessary as time went by.

He caught his breath, calming himself. Just a few days. Have to keep her out from underfoot. She shouldn't need much more care. Time to allow nature to take its course. He could feed and water her, that was a reasonable thing to do.

He walked out to the kitchen. The sun was up, and he felt better than he had expected to. He recalled holding his little puppy-girl, carrying her to the bed, her appreciative little tongue brushing against his chest.

Again, Hunter found his thoughts wandering to unfamiliar places, distasteful to him. He was being too easy on her. That was it. He cooked some eggs and a can of spam. He ate two thirds of it, dumping the remaining in her feeding bowl.

Time to pay the bills.

He entered his bedroom, a little irritated that she slept, useless, while he prepared to work. Like his parasitic whore of a wife. He pulled on his shorts, and walked over to the side of the bed. He pulled the sheet off of her, gazing down. She was lying on her belly, and he caught his breath. Damn it. If anything she looked worse. Some of the blisters on her upper back had opened, suppurating. The red of her ass cheeks looked horrid, and he could see the wrinkles and tiny bubbles of skin poisoning there as well. It looked distinctly odd. Her entire back was burned badly, but the bright red of her bottom was different than the brownish red on the rest of her.

Hunter went outside to the back porch, cutting off a few aloe plant leaves he had growing in planters beside his tiny garden. He chose the largest leaves, closest to the ground, mature and potent. He knew well what that kind of burn was like. When he'd first bought the property, he'd invested hundreds of hours repairing, improving and expanding the shack. He had burned horribly about a week in, working shirtless under a cloudy sky, thinking that his tan and the clouds would make it safe. He had taken to growing aloe plants after that.

He returned to the bedroom, stopping for a cool wet facecloth on the way. He wiped her down, listening to her soft whimpers, as he cleaned the open wounds. He chose the largest of the leaves, slicing open the stalk, squeezing out the gel onto her shoulders. She shuddered, as he gently rubbed the plant's gift into her skin.

He moved down to the round curves of her bottom, slicing the leaves several times to get enough gel to cover her skin, rubbing it in gently. He spread her cheeks, making sure he took care of the sensitive skin that never saw the light of day.

She whimpered softly, moaning as he finished with her. He covered her up again, leaving her to heal, and got back to his writing. The blank page was calling.

* * *

Amy stretched, sighing. The sheet felt rough against her skin, irritating her sensitive flesh. The pain had changed, no longer one all-enveloping agony. Individual areas hurt, her shoulders, her butt, her breasts. Her feet were the worse, every time she brushed against the sheet or mattress, she felt a stabbing pain.

She was alone in the room. She climbed off the bed, onto her hands and knees, the thought of putting any weight on her feet terrifying. She found her way to the bathroom, struggling onto the toilet, which she desperately needed. Amy washed her face, before finding his toothbrush, brushing her teeth carefully, then brushing her hair out. She had to be careful, her scalp was in agony, but when she was done, she was content with how she looked. Exploring his cabinet, she found some Vaseline which she applied to her cracked lips. She felt almost human, and giggled to herself. No time to be human. Back to being man's best friend.