Puppy Girl: The Stray

He stood, holding her, then put her down on the couch. He took her foot in his hand, examining it for a moment, and eased a slipper over it. The same for the other. "Walk for me, Red. Let me know if it hurts too much."

She stood up carefully, her feet sensitive. She took a few tentative steps and found her feet, while still painful, weren't in agony. A few more paces, and she was walking carefully, without much pain.

"Speak, girl. Tell me."

She walked over to him. "It's good," she murmured. "Very little pain. Thank you." She hesitated a moment, lowering her eyes. "Master."

He nodded. "Down, girl."

She dropped to her hands and knees, moving closer and rubbing against his thigh. "Let's take you for a walk. In the house, you stay like this. Out in the sand you can walk, understood?"

"Woof!" she barked, shaking, excited to get out of the house and walk around.

He snapped a long rope leash to her collar, and walked to the door. She followed, at his heel. He moved slowly, letting her keep up. She watched him grab his rifle from the wall in the entry, slinging it over his shoulder, and she crawled after him, out the door.

The sun was almost down, but the air felt warm and pleasant against her skin. She followed him down the wooden stairs, stepping over the foot bath. At the end of the wooden walk she stood, stretching, twisting her body carefully, feeling how her sun damaged skin responded. Her master waited for her patiently.

* * *

Hunter watched her stretching, her lithesome body teasing him. He tried to shake it off. It was no different than when she was on her hands and knees, or stretched out on the bed. Still, for some reason it didn't feel right.

She turned to him and scurried over. She barked softly, moving around him, shuffling. She leaned against him, her cute little tongue licking his chest, his arms. Brief little lashes. She rubbed up against him, then walked away, tugging at her leash.

He smiled, happy she was feeling better. Good to get out of the house. He'd been lax about his patrols. He wouldn't do the whole island now, she wasn't up to it, but he figured they could walk the couple of hundred yards of beach.

He followed her, giving a gentle tug to slow her down. She scurried over to the tree-line, then squatted. She looked up at him anxiously as she loosed her bladder, a thin little stream becoming stronger, pooling at her feet. He stood near her, the leash loose, and waited. She stood and grinning at him, kicked some sand over her mess.

They walked the waterline together, no tension on her leash. She'd stop occasionally to pick up a shell and look at it, before tossing it into the water. She turned and twisted, spinning around, looking so cute, so playful. Tangling up her leash.

"Stay," he told her, standing over her, and unwrapping the rope from her neck and body. He made her raise her leg, so he could free it from her entanglement.

No footsteps in the sand. No sign of intruders on his island.

At the end of the beach he saw she was limping. She slowed down, and dropped to her knees, crawling slowly.

Damn. Too much. I shouldn't have let her over do it. "Do your feet hurt?" he asked.

She whimpered, nodding.

"It'll be better soon," he said picking her up, cradling her in his arms. He had to be careful of her back; he didn't want to hurt her anymore. She cuddled into him, shivering. He lifted her and pressed her forehead against his cheek. She was hot again. He felt her lips press against his neck, her tiny tongue bathing him.

Hunter stopped at the foot wash, rinsing both of their feet, as well as her hands and knees. She was trembling, and he knew her fever had returned. Carrying her into the bungalow, he set her gently on the couch.

"Stay, girl," he growled softly, hand extended in command.

She curled up, watching him anxiously. He grabbed a few Tylenol and a glass of water, returning to his charge. She opened her mouth obediently, and he set the pills on her tongue, then placed the glass at her lips, brushing her hair back from her face as she swallowed.

"Good girl," he praised her softly, his hand running along her shoulder. Her eyes gazed up at him in trust. "Stay," he whispered.

He started the tub, filling it with warm water, not too hot. Not today. His puppy needed another bath, and some more lotion treatment. She leaned her head against his chest as he lifted her easily, walking to the bathroom. "Puppy needs a bath, a little care and some rest. Let Master take care of you."

She leaned back in the tub, the water only a few inches deep. Hunter checked the temperature, adjusting it minutely, before taking her feet in his hands, examining them. No further damage, fortunately. She wasn't back to health yet, not even close. He'd have to monitor her actions more carefully. Getting out in the fresh air, a chance to play around was good for the body and soul, but still too early for his puppy-girl.

He grabbed a face cloth soaped it up lightly, and started washing her. Up her strong slender legs, firm beneath his touch. Along her thighs, gently between her legs. He lathered her belly, and saw her twitch. He looked up and saw she was smiling. Ticklish. An image burst in his mind of her lying at his feet, his hand scratching her soft belly, her leg kicking instinctively.

He carefully continued, up her chest, under and around her breasts. Lifting her arm to get her pits, bathing each individually. She was good, patient, allowing him to move her without fighting. Leaning her back under the faucet, washing her hair out thoroughly, twice, before adding conditioner. Her eyes were closed much of the time, relaxed, peaceful.

"Such a good girl, Red," he cooed, his fingers scraping her scalp. "Daddy's good girl. Best puppy in the world, she is." His voice changed register, praising her.

A small smile appeared on her lips, and she moved her head, seeking his touch, placing her tender, sensitive areas under his strong fingers.

"Other side now," he said softly, turning off the water, and letting it start to drain.

He had to be careful. The burned flesh was still red, small blisters abundant, the larger, drained ones in danger of tearing. Gently, carefully, he bathed her, his hand ghosting across her skin, his touch feather light. "You'll be better soon, puppy-girl. Much better. Then we can go out and play."

Satisfied with the job done, he lifted her out of the water, and sat her on the edge of the sink. He toweled her off carefully, drying her hair. "Feeling better?" he asked.

She smiled, and yelped once.

He lifted her, feeling her head snuggle into the hollow of his neck. He kissed the top of her head gently. "Let's get you taken care of, puppy-girl."

Laying her on the bed, she moved to the side, so he could place a towel underneath her during the lotioning. Once it was in place, she rolled onto it carefully, lying on her belly.

Hunter removed his shirt and shorts. He was soaked from bathing her. She watched him, but he didn't see the nervousness, the fear he'd spotted when the stray first followed him home. Her eyes, large and trusting, watched him remove his underwear, his manhood swollen, not fully erect, but hardly retreating. He slid on some knit shorts, and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

Once more his hands traced every inch of her young body, perhaps spending a few more seconds than necessary between her thighs, and taking care of her firm cheeks. It was clear she understood the need, didn't flinch or pull away. Didn't try to cover up.

When he'd completed his first pass, he commanded her. "Over. Over, Red."

She turned carefully, positioning her legs, feet spread shoulder-wide, arms straight and relaxed, palms up, maybe a foot from her hips.

"Pretty puppy," he whispered, unaware of the words as they escaped his lips.

Amy smiled at him, giving a little anticipatory wiggle.

He was a little firmer with the front, no blisters, less of a burn, careful around the scrapes from her crawling, but otherwise, his hands were steady and controlling. He worked from head to toe, checking on her feet once again before moving upward again. He turned her legs outward one at a time, covering the inside of her thighs. When he reached the 'V' between her legs, he rubbed her firmly, lingering.

"I know you're a good girl," he said to her softly. "Such a good girl." His finger slid down her parted lips, and he felt the slight moistness. Looking into her face, he saw a hint of nervousness.

"Trust your Master, puppy-girl," he said. "I would never hurt you."

The tenseness in her legs dissipated, knees bowing outward, opening. He added some more lotion, rubbing her swollen puffy flesh, his finger sliding slightly inside of her, penetrating for only a moment. His hand continued upward, rubbing her little fur patch. "My Red has the softest fur," he teased, his fingernails penetrating through the curly blonde hair, scratching her skin. Back up her belly, he paused over her breasts, examining the small scratches and pierced flesh where the splinters had been.

"Getting better," he murmured. His hand cupped the tender flesh, kneading, rubbing, tugging on her nipples, getting them to rise. He chuckled. "Naughty puppy."

Abruptly he realized what he was doing, and pulled his hands away quickly, listening to her soft, nervous whine. "You did nothing wrong, Red. You're a good girl. Such a good girl." He finished with her shoulders, and then a careful few moments with his fingers on her face, tracing her soft features.

When he was done, he lifted her in his arms, her smell strong, the mixture of soap, lotion, and Red. Pulling the sheet back he set her down, covering her. "Rest now, puppy-girl. Rest, and when you wake, Master will give you a treat." He brushed his lips against her forehead. She closed her eyes, content.

* * *

Amy rested, her mind still active. Cataloging her injuries, and wondering at her own behavior. She could see what was happening to her, and was helpless to stop it, not even knowing if she wanted to.

It was her puppy-mind, she told herself. When her puppy-mind took over, she was happy. Free from complex thought, acting and responding to his actions, eager for his touch, anxious for his praise. There was nothing wrong with rubbing against him, her tongue seeking his flesh, his touch familiar and needed. His strong hands caressing her skin, free to do whatever he wanted. Controlling, protecting, appreciative. Caring.

Alone, particularly in the bed, her thoughts would revert to normal. How long before she'd be free? Were they searching for her even now? What had happened after she fell overboard? Surely Rafe told somebody. They must have looked for her, although it would have been a daunting task with the strong currents, in the dark of night. Still, would they find this island? Were search teams out now? Did her parents know of her disappearance? She started to get nervous, feeling the stretch of her healing skin, the pain of her feet, the constant discomfort where the sheets pressed against her skin.

A treat. He'd promised her a treat. Chocolate? Something yummy? She'd been a good girl. Good puppy. She'd earned it. She relaxed, imagining the chocolaty goodness between her lips, Master's hand rubbing her mouth, directing any loose crumbs back between her lips. Holding her, keeping her fed. Spoiling her. She was a good girl. She deserved a treat.

* * *

Amy woke, disoriented, the bed she was on tilting. She scrambled for a moment until his hand settled on her upper arm, gently. "Shhh, Red, it's Ok," the deep voice reassured her.

She looked up into his concerned face, and his hand rested on her forehead. "Your fever's back," he said.

"Cold," she mumbled, her body shivering.

Hunter pulled the covers up over her, then pressed a couple of pills against her lips. "Open up, girl. It'll help."

She parted her dry cracked lips, and he slipped the medicine into her mouth. His powerful arm slid under her shoulders and lifted her easily, his other hand holding a glass of water to her lips. "Drink."

She swallowed, her mind still fuzzy. She knew the man. He was a little scary but she felt safe with him. When he lowered her back onto the mattress, she curled up, trying to stop the shivering. When the man climbed into the bed with her, she felt no fear, only comfort as his body curled around hers, his warmth and strength reassuring.

"Shhh, Red," he whispered, his hand brushing her hair back, his lips breathing into her ear. "It's Ok, you're going to be fine."

She clutched his arm to her chest, leaning back against him, secure for the moment. She remembered dreaming, a nightmare. She had been drowning, and a boat-full of people had drifted nearby, laughing at her. She'd swim toward the ladder, but every time she got close, hands would push her under the water, and when she resurfaced, the boat was out of reach. She'd swim toward it again, kicking free of unseen submerged hands reaching for her, touching her, grabbing her legs, her breasts. It was hopeless.

"Drowning ..." she murmured, the fear that had left her breathing ragged no longer the only thing in the world.

"Never, puppy-girl. Not as long as you're mine," he told her, holding her firmly.

Amy sighed, kicking and maneuvering her legs, until they were entwined with his. She leaned her head back, and his arm slipped underneath it, warm, smelling of him. She turned her face, kissing his bicep, feeling the muscle twitch. Her tongue reached out to lick it, tasting him. He adjusted his position and she whimpered softly when the pain of the skin on her shoulders and bottom was exasperated by the movement.

"Sorry," he told her. "Relax, Red. I'm here. I've got you. You're safe, puppy-girl."

Puppy-girl. She smiled, giving a contented "Woof." Master was here. She was safe now. He'd take care of her. She was a good puppy.

She heard his chuckle. "Best puppy in the world," he whispered. "Master's good little puppy-girl. Master loves his puppy."

She whined softly, tugging his arm closer, clinging to it. Her breathing settled, and her shivering stopped. Safe. She was safe.

* * *

Hunter had been concerned, seeing her struggling in the sheets, all twisted, crying, whining. He'd put down the medicine and hot-chocolate he'd made for her, and sat on the edge of the bed, freeing her from the entanglement of the sheets. She'd fought him pulling away, then reaching out, her fingers hooked into claws.

He was able to calm her down, and get the Tylenol in her. The hot-chocolate treat would have to wait. It was late and she needed the rest. More time for healing. Hunter climbed into the bed with her, huddling around her curled up body, the trembling causing concern. He pulled her in close, her mumbling barely audible.

"It's Ok, I'm here," he tried to reassure her. "You're safe now, puppy-girl."

Her barely audible response was a contented "Woof."

It made him smile. He tried to adjust, but she was clinging to the arm held against her chest, her legs and feet tangling with his, squeezing them. She was a good girl. Good puppy. The best. He told her so.

She settled down, and he pulled her even closer. Her soft skin pressed against his. The arms clinging to his forearm relaxed and he moved his hand, settling over her breast, holding it gently. So soft. Her head was pressed into the hollow of his neck, and he kissed her soft hair.

His poor little girl. She had suffered. He wondered what had happened to her. Hunter remembered her initial comments, falling off a boat, swimming all night and day. How exhausted she'd been. He thought she'd been on drugs. He felt pangs of guilt for how he'd treated her. She hadn't done anything to him. She wasn't like the others. No viciousness, no cruelty. An innocent.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into her ear. "I'll take care of you, puppy-girl. Nobody will hurt you now."

He closed his eyes, his hand clutching her breast, his entire body curled around hers protectively.

* * *

Hunter woke to find Amy had turned toward him. He was on his back, and she was clutching him, holding on desperately. He felt her head, checking on her fever. Warm but no longer burning up. She'd partially kicked off the covers, and as he reached down to pull them back up, she whimpered, clinging. He soothed her, his words calming, his hands petting her gently.

It was near dawn, a hint of light entering the room, allowing him to see her. See his good little puppy-girl. His hand stroked her skin lightly, feeling the dryness. She'd need more lotion. While his mind wandered, his hand continued to caress her, his face buried in her hair, filled with her scent.

She shifted minutely, her hip moving, pressing against his erection. He felt a momentary burst of anger, which dissipated almost as quickly. It wasn't her fault. She was a good puppy, sleeping. Trusting.

He tried to ignore his need, his hand running across her bottom, feeling the swell of her cheeks. Such a pretty puppy-girl.

She turned, moaning in her sleep. He remembered the nightmare from earlier. "Easy, Red. I'm here. Master's here. You're safe. Master will take care of you."

She sighed and cuddled in closer, relaxing. He twisted his hips, freeing his cock. That betraying part of his anatomy. He grasped it squeezing it sharply, willing it to go soft, to no avail. Instead, he started stroking it softly, while he held his innocent puppy-girl. He kissed the top of her head, breathing her scent, and allowed his other hand to touch her body, gently caressing her back, her perfect bottom. Perfect except for the abomination of her burn, but that would heal. He'd make sure of that.

He would lotion her bottom, take care of her, tend her until the skin was whole again, smooth and perfect.

The need overcame him suddenly, and he tried to stifle his moan as his cock erupted. The shame hit him hard, and he wriggled out from under his whimpering little puppy-girl. He made straight for the bathroom, cleaning up the evidence. While there, he thought about his perfect little puppy-girl. Such a good girl. He smiled as he thought about what he needed to make her an even better little puppy.

* * *

For the next couple of days, life went on.

Hunter took care of his puppy's needs, feeding her, mostly from her bowl, occasionally from his hand when she was feeling bad. He lotioned her and bathed her, watchful of her blisters and peeling skin.

She learned. She was curious, often sniffing around the house while he worked, but careful not to be too distracting. She spent much of her time curled up in the corner, sleeping as much as she could, letting nature work its miracle on her, letting her heal.

Habits took form. Letting her out in the morning while he cooked breakfast. Letting her in and feeding her, giving her medicine. Allowing her the run of the house during the day, again letting her out before lunch, before calling her back for her meal.

Red was a good girl. She removed her knee covers on her own, when leaving the house and before going to bed, putting them on herself, upon entering the house and when she got up in the morning. She'd even learned to come in from the rain, which it seemed to do almost every other day, scratching at the door before he let his bedraggled little puppy-girl in, and dried her off.

Hunter had argued with himself, as she got better. Puppies shouldn't sleep on the bed, or climb on the furniture, but she was a good girl, and it was his own fault that he'd started her on the habit. The fifth night he'd left her on the floor, and she'd been obedient, whimpering softly from the corner, curled up in a miserable ball. When the nightmare started, and he'd seen her struggling, moaning, he'd immediately climbed out of bed to take care of her. She'd been afraid when she first woke up, but once she'd seen his face, she calmed, clinging to him. He'd taken her back to his bed, petting her, soothing her until she'd relaxed. He'd fallen asleep holding his wonderful puppy-girl, and surrendered to the idea that she'd be best off sleeping nearby.