The Lapdog Ch. 04

Chapter 4: Obedience Training

After a lengthy court fight, Lisa had finally won out. She was still working on a way to get her poodle costume off, but she was hopeful that she'd eventually find a solution. As a long, stressful day turned to evening, Lisa cut through the park on her way home. Her poodle wig bobbed as she walked down the deserted path. Lisa shivered, both from nerves and the cold. It was dark now, and her fur covered bra and panties didn't provide much warmth. Or much dignity. As she hurried through the empty park, her breasts bouncing with every step, Lisa was painfully aware of how her costume put her body on display...and how vulnerable it made her.

My mistress always kept me safe and warm.

Lisa pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't start thinking like a pet again. Where was she? All of these paths looked the same in the dim light.

I need a leash so I don't get lost.

As she shook her head to clear her thoughts Lisa spotted something in the bushes. She bent down to see that someone had dropped a roll of cash. Lisa smiled, her fears forgotten. Finally her luck was beginning to change.

The only way for her to reach the money was to crawl between two thick bushes. Lisa inched forward on her hands and knees and carefully picked up the wad of bills with her paws.

SNAP!

Lisa jumped at the sound, only to find that she was in some kind of metal container that was too small for her to stand up in. She looked around wildly and saw that she was surrounded by crisscrossed steel bars that had been concealed by the bushes. She was in a humane animal trap! Picking up the money had pulled the trigger, causing the cage door to slam shut. Lisa turned around in the narrow metal cage and tried to free herself, but she couldn't work the latch with her paws. She was trapped - in a device so simple that only a dog would be dumb enough to be caught by it.

Lisa huddled in her cage, frightened and utterly ashamed of herself. How could she have been so stupid as to get herself locked in a dog cage on her first day of freedom?

Maybe you're not supposed to be free.

Lisa heard footsteps and looked up to see two figures walking down the path. She strained to see who it was, fully aware that she was at the mercy of whoever found her. As the figures came closer, Lisa sighed with a mixture of relief and resignation. It was Tom and Joan, the couple from the apartment building next to hers. They must have decided to cut through the park on their way home too. Lisa was glad that help was on the way, but she wished that it had been somebody else. Tom and Joan were snobs through and through, and Lisa didn't like the idea of them finding out that she had been dumb enough to get herself caught in a dog trap. The couple stopped in front of Lisa's cage and stared down at her disdainfully.

Lisa smiled nervously at them through the bars. From her position on her hands and knees her neighbors seemed to tower over her, making her feel small and unimportant. "Hi, Tom, Joan...I um, I seem to have gotten stuck, could you please let me out?"

Joan frowned. "Isn't that the stray from our neighborhood?"

Tom laughed. "Yes, it's about time they caught the little mutt. She's been such a nuisance running around loose. She never stops yapping either."

Why didn't Tom and Joan didn't recognize her? She had to get out of here. Lisa looked up at them with pleading eyes. "Guys, it's me, Lisa, can you please..."

"She looks so cute. It seems a shame to have her stuck in that tiny cage."

"It's for her own good. You know it isn't safe for a little thing like her to be wandering around on her own."

Lisa groaned in frustration. Her neighbors might be her only chance to get free, but it was as if they couldn't hear anything she said. "Tom, Joan, you know me, I'm not a dog, and I don't belong in a cage. Please let me out."

Joan cooed. "Oh, look at her, she's adorable. She acts just like a real person! Are you sure we can't keep her?"

Tom smiled down at Lisa. "She is cute. But we have a dog already, and you know the apartment building only lets us have one. They'll fix her up with an owner down at the shelter. Lisa might be a little slow, but I'm sure they can find someone who will be patient with her."

As Tom and Joan turned and walked away, Lisa shook the bars of her cage. "No! Wait! Please! You can't just leave me in here!"

But they didn't hear her.

No sooner had Tom and Joan left when Lisa was blinded by a flashlight stabbing out in the darkness. The door to her cage opened, and she felt something drop over her head. The hulking figure of a uniformed workman loomed over her, making Lisa recoil in fear. She tried to pull back farther into her cage, but the loop of the man's dog-catching pole was secured around her neck and she was no match for his strength. The workman laughed as she struggled against him while pawing at her neck in a vain attempt to free herself.

"Now, now, girl. There's plenty of space for you at the city pound. You'll get your own cage, and there'll be plenty of dog food. Maybe you'll even get a nice juicy bone to chew on!"

Lisa tried to say that it was all a mistake, that she was a free woman with rights and a home of her own to go to. But all that came out of her mouth were dog noises.

The dogcatcher pulled her out of the trap with his pole and pushed her neck downwards, forcing her to stay on all fours. Then he shoved her into a small dog carrier and closed the door. Lisa struggled to get out, pawing frantically at the latch. She shook in her carrier, barking in protest, trying desperately to get the man's attention. But he didn't even bother to look at her. She was just another stray dog.

I'm too helpless to be on my own.

Lisa couldn't push the thought away this time.

The man picked up Lisa's carrier and stuffed her into the back of his van. She shivered from the cold night air as he closed the door behind her. As the van drove away Lisa saw something on the floor of her pet carrier. A cellphone. This could be her way out. She couldn't talk, but maybe if she could work the buttons with her nose, she could text someone for help. Lisa leaned over and carefully picked up the phone with her mouth.

SQUEAK!

She was so startled that she instantly dropped the phone. It made another squeak as it hit the floor of her carrier, then bounced into the corner. Lisa looked more closely at the cell and began to whimper. It wasn't a real phone after all, just a squeaky dog toy for the dumb poodle to gnaw on while she waited in her cage for the real people to decide what to do with her.

As the van drove through the night towards whatever awaited her at the kennel, Lisa cowered wide-eyed at the back of her carrier, a thin, tattered dog blanket her only source of warmth. Still unable to speak, Lisa's thoughts said what her voice could not.

I'm not meant to be free. I don't want to be free. I need an owner to take care of me and feed me and keep me warm and safe and make me cum. I'll be a good girl this time, I promise, I just want my mistress!

Lisa's silent plea went unanswered. As she shook in fear, the real dogs that were in the other cages began to bark. But to Lisa it sounded like laughter.

Lisa woke up with a gasp. Am I ever going to have a normal dream?

It's only natural, she thought to herself. After all, she had been through a lot, and dreams reflect the feelings of one's subconscious. But as she stared up at her mistress, Lisa couldn't help noticing that all of her dreams involved her wanting Miss Davenport to own her, and that those thoughts had begun to creep into her waking mind.

Ever since she had come back from the groomers', Lisa had found it much more difficult to ignore the subtext of her dreams, or to reconcile them with her own ideas about who she was supposed to be. Carla had literally rubbed her nose in the simple fact that being owned and humiliated was turning her on, and that was a lesson that was impossible to forget. Lisa's body wouldn't let her forget. Every time that Miss Davenport tugged on her leash or had Lisa beg for her supper, the sensations between her legs reminded her that, at least at some level, she was enjoying herself. Lisa found herself uncertain of what she really wanted.

Of course, the other shock that Lisa had received was that her demotion from a respected businesswoman to Miss Davenport's lapdog was permanent. With great expense and ingenuity, Carla had ensured that Lisa would spend the rest of her life imprisoned in her costume, and that the pink dye that had been applied to her skin would never come off. Lisa had already come to realize that she would always be Miss Davenport's slave. But now she knew that she would never be capable of being anything else.

Finding out that she was trapped in her poodle outfit forced her to confront the realities of her new life. Lisa had once aspired to be rich and successful. Now she couldn't even aspire to pour herself a glass of water. She would always be helpless, and with her pink skin and ridiculous dog costume, no one would ever take her seriously. Any attempt at asserting herself would be met with a patient smile followed by a pat on the head. No one would ever see her as anything more than what she had become - a sexy, impractical toy for her owner's amusement.

Lisa would never be anything more than a rich woman's accessory, and she was even failing at wanting to be more than that. That was what had upset Lisa most of all - the discovery that she was actually enjoying her own enslavement and humiliation. It cut into her self-worth, her vision of who and what she was meant to be. She was supposed to be someone who was assertive and independent, who got things done and never gave up. She wasn't supposed to be the kind of person who liked to be dominated, and she certainly wasn't supposed to be the kind of person who liked being a helpless pleasure slave. But Miss Davenport had forced her to see that what she was supposed to want and what she did want were often two very different things.

Oddly enough, Lisa couldn't make herself feel angry at the woman who had trapped her in a degrading costume and turned her into a pet. In a way it might have been easier if she had been angry at Miss Davenport; it would at least have been a distraction from her crumbling self-esteem. But the only thing that Lisa could feel was shame at the weak, submissive, natural-born slavegirl that she had found herself to be. The anger just wouldn't come. Perhaps it was because Carla had never given any indication that she had acted out of malice.

It was a strange thing to say, considering that Miss Davenport had turned Lisa into her helpless toy. It was obvious that Carla loved to dominate Lisa and delighted in taking every bit of freedom and dignity away from her. But Miss Davenport had never said anything to suggest that she had a grudge against Lisa, or that this was some sort of fiendish revenge for an unremembered slight. She had never harmed Lisa in any way, or given any indication that she wanted to. In fact, she lavished her with affection. Carla always behaved as if she liked Lisa, and that she had given her a rare gift by turning her into her pet. But Lisa's lack of anger might also have been due to how Miss Davenport had behaved after bringing her home.

Lisa had been a wreck when they had left Deborah and Michelle's salon. During the trip back from town her mind was filled with uncertainty. Uncertainty about who she really was, and uncertainty about what her owner was going to do to her. The truth was out in the open now. Miss Davenport would have complete control over her for the rest of her life, and Lisa had no idea what her mistress might do with that power. After all, Carla had already turned Lisa into her dog, who could say what she would do next? For all Lisa knew, her owner might have some horrible torment ready and waiting for her for when they got home. But Lisa's arrival back at Miss Davenport's house wasn't defined by what happened, but by what didn't happen.

Carla hadn't rubbed Lisa's nose in her enslavement any further. There hadn't been any more grand speeches about how Lisa would never be able to free herself or how helpless she was. Above all, there were no surprises. The only thing waiting for Lisa was a hot meal. Dinner followed the usual routine. Lisa got on her knees and put her hands in begging position, after which Miss Davenport patted her on the head and gave her her supper, just like always. The cook had left after preparing the food, so there was no one but Carla to see her eat out of her dog bowl. With nothing to embarrass or disturb, Lisa was able to calm down and enjoy a nice, uneventful dinner with her owner.

Supper was followed by a quiet night on her mistress's lap in front of the television. There was nothing erotic or playful in the way that Carla handled her, Miss Davenport merely stroked Lisa's head and back as she relaxed with her lapdog after a busy day. Lisa woke up in the morning after her usual nightmare to find that she was still in front of the television; she had spent all night on the couch asleep on her mistress's lap. Carla was still sleeping, her hand resting protectively on Lisa's back. That wasn't supposed to make her feel better, but it did.

The next few days were hard for Lisa. She didn't know or like the person that she saw in the mirror, and it wasn't because of her costume. But Miss Davenport showed a surprising dedication to helping her pet to recover. She refrained from any of the bizarre surprises that Lisa had come to expect. There were no frightening trips outside the house, and there was no exposure to strangers. Lisa spent her days at home with her mistress. After her experiences in the outside world, Carla's house was a safe place, where no one stared at her and nothing bad could happen to her. The meals were always good, the temperature was always kept warm enough for her to be comfortable in her scanty costume, and her owner was there to take care of her.

In addition to providing for her physical needs, Miss Davenport spent a great deal of time reassuring Lisa. Of course, as was typical for Carla, her reassurances were thoroughly demeaning. She would tell Lisa what a good dog she was and how happy she was going to be as her pampered poodle. There was talk of getting a heated dog blanket and some human-sized doggie sweaters for when it got cold, a discussion on whether a differently shaped dog bowl might be easier to eat out of, and there was a debate on what color ribbons looked the prettiest in Lisa's fur. But as embarrassing as Carla's comments might have been, there was a clear message behind them: Lisa mattered to Miss Davenport, and although she was going to be treated like a pet, she would be kept in comfort and safety.

In the days that followed, Lisa found herself spending more and more time on her mistress's lap. For Lisa, laptime became something more than just a means of being driven to orgasm. Being handled and petted by her owner and receiving her reassurances was comforting. It made Lisa feel that even if she wasn't able to do things for herself anymore, at least she was someplace safe and with someone who would take care of her. More importantly, she was with someone who wanted to take care of her. Perhaps if Carla wanted her, it meant that she was worth being wanted.

Very slowly, Lisa began to recover, and to develop a kind of reluctant acceptance. Strangely enough, the fact that she was permanently trapped in her costume was more of a help than a hindrance. Under other circumstances she might have clung to her old life, hoping in vain that someday she might regain her freedom, or at the very least her dignity. But as it was, there was no point in resisting the inevitable. The dog collar that had been wrapped around her neck was never coming off. Lisa may have once had independence and a career, but that was in the past. She was no longer capable of doing anything for herself, and the only place she had in the workplace was under a desk with her face buried in her mistress's crotch.

As Miss Davenport had pointed out, like it or not, this was her life now. She was Carla's pet, and she always would be. Since she was going to stay as Miss Davenport's lapdog for good, was there any reason to try to be miserable about it? Wouldn't it be better if she made the best of things and focused on the positives? From that point of view, her submissive tendencies were an advantage. After all, wasn't it actually a good thing that she was able to get some enjoyment out of her situation and to adapt to what she had become? And so, as time went on, although Lisa still wasn't entirely comfortable with her new life or her own feelings, she reluctantly began to accept the fact that she was a pet, and that there were at least some things about being a pet that she liked.

Lisa was very much aware of the time and attention that Carla had spent in making her feel better. Miss Davenport had exhibited the same care towards Lisa's emotional well-being that she had shown in her enslavement. The irony of being grateful to the woman who had sentenced her to life as a dog was not lost on Lisa, but she was grateful nonetheless. However, by now Lisa knew her owner well enough to suspect that as soon as she had recovered, Miss Davenport would spring one of her surprises on her. Lisa knew that her mistress would never hurt her, but by the same token she was sure that whatever happened would be something kinky and unexpected, and probably very strange.

All three of Lisa's expectations were met one morning after breakfast. Miss Davenport sat at the table with her espresso while Lisa drank hers from her dish on the floor. Carla looked down at Lisa thoughtfully and used a pink cloth to wipe some coffee off of her chin. "I think it's time to get you started on your obedience training. You want to be a good pet for Mistress, don't you, precious?"

Privately, Lisa thought that she was already a pretty good pet for Mistress, given that she was eating out Mistress on a daily basis! There had been a time when she would have said as much. But finding out that she was going to be a pet for life had given Lisa a more submissive attitude. She was nothing more than a toy now, and her owner was able to do whatever she wanted with her. There was no point in getting worked up about it or starting an argument that she couldn't win. Besides, whatever Miss Davenport had in mind, it wouldn't be anything harmful. Her mistress always made sure that she was safe. But Lisa was still uneasy. There was a world of difference between safe and pleasant.

"Um...ok," she said nervously. "If you really think I need it..."

"Good girl!" Carla said, with considerably more enthusiasm than Lisa felt.

After they had finished their coffee, Carla led Lisa to the dressing room where she had first seen herself as a poodle. As Miss Davenport unclipped her leash, Lisa saw that some changes had been made. There was now a white saddle-shaped lump on the floor embedded in the carpet. Ominously, there were two white fur manacles on either side. There was also a large dildo sticking out of the top of the saddle. Some speakers had been mounted above the mirrors.

Lisa frowned at the lump on the floor. She didn't like the looks of this. But there wasn't anything she could do about it, whatever it was. Miss Davenport pushed her firmly but gently down onto the saddle, as if showing a confused pet where it was supposed to sleep. Lisa gave an undignified squeak as the lubricated dildo slid into her pussy, leaving her with an almost overwhelming feeling of fullness. Carla locked her pet's wrists and ankles into place, forcing Lisa to remain seated with her ass pressed against the saddle.