The Lapdog Ch. 04

Carla leaned over Lisa and scratched her playfully under her chin. By now Lisa was used to being helpless, but this time she couldn't even move a muscle. The huge dildo that filled her was inescapable. Lisa looked up anxiously at her mistress, a silent question in her eyes. Miss Davenport gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, there's nothing to be afraid of. Don't I always look after my girl?"

"Yes, Miss," Lisa said, but she couldn't hide a slight quiver in her voice.

Carla stroked her head. "Now, I've made this easy so that my little pet won't have any trouble understanding what she needs to do. You'll hear some short, simple sentences. All you have to do is to repeat what the voice says. When you're finished with your lessons, the training machine will let you go, and you can go up and join me in my study or do whatever you like."

Lisa had to admit that it didn't sound difficult. But she was still uneasy when Carla went up to her office, leaving her alone and shackled to the training saddle. The three mirrors surrounded Lisa, leaving her with nothing to see but a pink-skinned girl in a revealing poodle costume. Looking at her own reflection only made her feel small and helpless. Lisa couldn't help but feel that whatever was about to happen, the timid little slave that she saw in the mirror wasn't ready for it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice from the speakers above her.

"Repeat after me. I am a silly little poodle."

No way, thought Lisa. Her fear turned to annoyance. This was a step too far.

"I am NOT a silly little poodle! I'm-ahhhh!" Lisa squealed as the saddle shocked her in the ass.

"Bad girl. Repeat after me. I am a silly little poodle."

Lisa deflated. The shocks had been mild, but they sent a clear message: Her participation was not optional. She thought to herself that she really should have known better. Even the most pampered dog doesn't get to decide if it wants to be trained. But knowing that she didn't have a choice didn't make what she had to do any easier. Lisa looked down at the floor in embarrassment.

"I... I am a silly little poodle," she muttered.

Lisa winced as her hesitation earned her another shock.

"Speak clearly. Try again."

"I am a silly little poodle!"

"Good doggie," said the voice in a syrupy tone. The dildo vibrated gently, making Lisa gasp as the machine rewarded the dog who had managed to learn a new trick.

This isn't so bad. I just have to repeat a lot of nonsense. It's not like I have to believe what I'm saying, Lisa thought to herself. Oooh, that feels...

Lisa's reward may have felt good, but at the same time, the sensations made it hard for her to think. As the machine moved on to other phrases, she found that she had to use all of her remaining brainpower just to parrot everything she heard.

Dogs like me should be collared and leashed.

Pleasing my owner makes me want to wag my tail.

I'm a horny pet who needs a mistress.

I'm a good dog who does what she's told.

I need an owner. I'd only get into trouble thinking for myself.

My mistress decides when I cum.

My owner keeps me safe.

I'm just a poodle, I can't do anything for myself.

I'm my mistress's pretty little pet.

As Lisa repeated a seemingly endless list of humiliating statements about herself, she began to lose track of how long her training had been going on, or how many phrases she had been made to say. While she repeated her lessons, Lisa stared at the only thing that there was to see - her own reflection. Every time she said one of her training phrases, she said it while looking at the pet that she had become. Every time she was rewarded, she saw the look of dumb ecstasy on her face as her dildo rewarded her for being a good dog.

After it was all over the machine released Lisa's limbs from their shackles just as Miss Davenport had promised. She decided to watch television for a while; Mistress had just gotten a voice activated remote that Lisa could use without her hands. As she lay on the living room couch she thought about this latest surprise that Carla had come up with.

All in all, Lisa was relieved. Being made to say degrading things about herself may not have been her idea of a perfect morning, but it wasn't that terrible. As long as she obeyed, there were no shocks, and the rewards from the dildo felt nice. Lisa slipped her paw between her legs and rubbed herself thoughtfully as she remembered the feel of the manacles on her limbs. Being chained to her saddle so that she could barely move had been...interesting.

Of course, Lisa had understood the point of the whole thing right away. As was so often the case, Carla had been inspired by Lisa's role as her pet poodle. Lisa's machine had run her through a humiliating parody of dog training, complete with punishments and rewards based on her behavior. But all things considered, having to say ridiculous things about herself wasn't so bad. After all, being made to say something didn't mean that she had to agree with it. It was embarrassing to be forced to humiliate herself, but it wasn't as if she was being made to do it in public. Having put to rest her feelings about her training, Lisa turned her attention to the television and frowned at the rerun that she was watching.

Normally she was sprawled out across Carla's lap when she watched television. It felt strange watching something alone, without the feel of her mistress's caresses. Lisa gave up on finding something decent to watch and went upstairs to Miss Davenport's office. Her mistress's face lit up when she saw her. "There you are! Aren't you the clever thing? You did such a good job on your doggie training. I'm so proud of you. You're just the best pet ever."

Lisa was tongue-tied in the face of Carla's sugary compliments, but patronizing or not, her mistress's praise felt good. Lisa gave her a shy smile and knelt on her blanket next to her owner's chair. Carla needed to get back to work, and Lisa wanted to be in position in case Mistress wanted to pet her while she read the stock reports.

No, Lisa thought as Miss Davenport reached down and stroked her fur, there isn't much to this whole training thing at all.

Perhaps when she had first been bought by Miss Davenport Lisa's daily lessons wouldn't have made any difference. But her time as a pet had left her more receptive, and more submissive. Every time that she finished her daily training session, Lisa would tell herself that she didn't really believe what she was saying, but the truth was that as she recited her humiliating lessons while staring at the poodle that she had become in the mirror, they slowly began to sink in.

As the weeks went by, those little phrases kept running through her mind. Many of them reminded Lisa of the things that she had dreamed about, which was something that she didn't know what to make of. Was the training machine really teaching her something new, or was it just forcing her to acknowledge something that had always been inside her? Lisa wasn't sure. But there was no question that she was starting to change.

Lisa was already physically and mentally reliant on Miss Davenport. When she ate, it was because Carla fed her. When she received pleasure, it was because Carla gave it to her. When she was praised, it was by Carla. When they went into town, it was Carla who protected her and made her feel safe. And when she found comfort, it was in Carla's arms. Everything good that happened in her life came from her mistress. Without openly admitting it, she had already become accustomed to looking to Miss Davenport for all of her needs, but Lisa's training honed that tendency into an obsession.

As the weeks went by, Lisa grew emotionally dependent on her owner, to the point where she was practically glued to her side. If she became anxious or unhappy, the touch of her mistress's hand or the sound of her voice had a calming effect. By the same token, the pull of her leash was reassuring; it meant that not only was she with her owner, she was unable to stop being with her owner. But it wasn't just a question of nerves. Being at her mistress's side felt right, as if it was the place where she belonged. Every day after her training, Lisa was usually allowed to roam about the house for a bit or watch television, but she found that most of the time she didn't want to do either of those things. Instead she went straight to Miss Davenport's office and knelt on her blanket next to her mistress.

The only time that Lisa wasn't with her owner was when Carla left the house without her. Lisa was always uneasy when Miss went away, and she tended to stay near the front door so that she would be there when her mistress returned. There wasn't any furniture in the entrance hall, so she had to sit on the floor. Although Lisa herself never realized it, she looked like a faithful dog waiting for its master.

It always made her feel good when Miss came back, partly because she wanted to be with her mistress, and partly because Carla always seemed so happy to see her. In fact, Miss Davenport invariably gave the impression that she enjoyed having her pet by her side, and that only increased Lisa's desire to be with her. Being treated like a dog may have been humiliating. But at the same time, there was a certain pleasure in being with someone who was so consistently delighted to have her around.

Needless to say, Miss Davenport indulged Lisa's need to be close to her whenever possible. On one occasion Carla finished her shower and saw that Lisa had been sitting and waiting for her on the bathroom floor. From then on bathtime became a shared activity. Carla took her pet into the shower with her. Then she would lather and wash them both. Lisa grew to love bathtime, regardless of whether it turned into something erotic or if it was just an occasion to be handled by her mistress.

Back when Lisa had been a free woman, she had always taken quick, efficient showers so that she could get on with her day. Now that she belonged to Carla, things were quite different. Miss Davenport would wash and caress every part of Lisa's body with great care, as if she was cleaning something precious and irreplaceable. Beneath her mistress's hands all thoughts of independence seemed to melt away. It felt natural and right to submit and to let her owner bathe her and claim her as a treasured possession.

One fine morning Miss Davenport decided to take her dog for a walk around the grounds of her estate. It was a beautiful day, and Lisa was enjoying it. The birds were singing, and the warmth of the sun felt good on her pink-dyed skin. She felt comfortable walking around Carla's garden; there was no one to see her but the gardener, and by now she was used to him. Besides, Lisa was on the end of Mistress's leash, so she knew nothing bad could happen. After all, her owner always kept her safe. At one point Carla went off to talk to the gardener about something. Before she left, she tied the end of Lisa's leash to a small tree.

"Now, be a good doggie, and stay here. I'll be right back."

Miss Davenport spoke to her firmly, but with the hint of a smile on her face, as if Lisa was a long-indulged pet who had a tendency to get herself into mischief. Lisa didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and gave her owner a timid smile. Dressed in her silly poodle costume with her elegant mistress towering above her, Lisa had become increasingly shy when it was her turn to talk.

While she waited for her owner, Lisa killed time by bird watching and looking at the flowers. Every once in a while she glanced at Miss Davenport and the gardener. She liked it when she was able to see that Miss was there. Then Lisa noticed something odd. Her leash was dangling between her breasts. The knot that had tied her to the tree must have come undone. Without knowing why, Lisa felt vaguely uneasy. She was always leashed to something when she was left alone outside. Being able to go wherever she wanted felt...wrong. Then Lisa noticed that the gate leading to the street had been left open.

Somehow it looked colder on the far side of the gate. Lisa didn't think about the possibility of escaping. She didn't even think about the impossibility of escaping. She didn't think about her inescapable costume or the slave tracking chip under her skin that would make it easy for her to be caught and sent right back to her owner. She didn't think about how she might be punished if she tried to escape. Instead, she gave the outside world a look of discomfort.

Affection, safety, and pleasure were here. Her life was here. Her mistress was here. There was nothing out there that she wanted. Lisa turned away from the unpleasant sight of freedom and watched her owner while she waited for her to finish talking with the gardener. After he had left, Carla returned and picked up the end of Lisa's leash. She put her hand between her pet's thighs and gave a caress that made Lisa's whole body tingle.

"You're just perfect, aren't you?" she whispered in Lisa's ear.

Lisa was so proud. She'd been a good girl.

After a picnic lunch Carla spent the afternoon sunbathing on the patio. As usual, Lisa was at her side. The chain attaching her collar to Miss Davenport's chair was too short to allow her to stand, or even get on her hands and knees. She couldn't even talk; Mistress had turned her voice off again. The only decision that Lisa was allowed to make was whether to lay on her stomach or on her back. Every so often Carla would reach down from her chaise lounge and play with her pet's breasts or stroke her head. From Lisa's position on the ground her mistress loomed over her like a giantess, every bit as dominating with her clothes off as she was with them on.

The little tail on the back of Lisa's panties shifted as she leaned over and lapped at the cold drink that her mistress had poured into the dog bowl beside her. She felt a pleasant warmth between her legs as she thought about how Miss had rubbed her hands all over Lisa's body to apply her sunscreen. As she drank, deprived of movement and deprived of choice, Lisa never once thought about the gate that had been open and was now closed. Freedom and the outside world hadn't been worth remembering.

Although Lisa was initially uncomfortable admitting it, there was something that made her training particularly effective - it turned her on. Being chained to her saddle and having to degrade herself for her mistress's pleasure triggered every submissive impulse in her body. There was a lesson in that, even if it wasn't a lesson that she wanted to learn. Of course, even before her training Lisa had come to understand that part of her loved being dominated by her mistress. But Lisa still wasn't entirely comfortable with that side of herself, and she frequently tried to ignore her own feelings.

Lisa's training forced her into self-honesty. Every day she was chained up and made to humiliate herself, and every day she watched herself in the mirror as her dildo rewarded her. At the same time that Lisa was learning dependency from her training machine, the mirror was teaching her a lesson of its own: The real Lisa wasn't a businesswoman who wore conservative pantsuits and reviewed earnings reports with her clients. The real Lisa was the one she saw every day in the mirror, a submissive slave in a skimpy costume who moaned in ecstasy each time that she was rewarded for trading her dignity for a moment of pleasure.

Although Lisa's life as a pet was filled with humiliation, there was very little punishment, aside from a minor shock from the training machine on the rare occasion that she got a lesson wrong. Carla hadn't used the shocker in Lisa's collar in some time, and she only edged and denied her pet when she was feeling playful. Punishment wasn't really necessary anymore, since it was unheard of for Lisa to do anything that she might be punished for. In fact, Lisa spent very little time thinking about whether she might get shocked. Lisa's focus wasn't on avoiding punishment, but on the pleasures that her mistress had to offer, and in basking in her attentions.

In her emotionally dependent state, Lisa hung on her mistress's every word and action. Whether it was a smile, a caress, or simply a "good girl" muttered in her ear, Lisa lived for signs of her owner's approval, and more importantly, her affection. Perhaps that was why she now preferred it when Miss drove her to an orgasm with her hands rather than with the remote. Receiving pleasure from her mistress's touch felt more...intimate.

The truth was that it wasn't just Lisa's behavior that was changing. As the incident with the slipped leash had illustrated, Lisa herself was changing. It would be easy to say that it was the training. But that wasn't all, or even most of it. As Lisa herself had noticed, the training merely brought to the surface something that had always been inside of her. That part of her liked what she was experiencing. That part of her liked the submission, and the attention that she received from her mistress, and as time went on, that side of her grew stronger. Lisa herself didn't fully realize just how much she had changed until one day when something happened that, for once, was not part of one of Carla's well-laid schemes.

It was a nice day, and somehow the front door had been left ajar. A delivery man came in to drop off a package. As he walked inside, he came face to face with Lisa. He stopped in his tracks and stared.

By now Lisa was used to Miss Davenport and the cook seeing her. Going out in public was frightening, but it was still somehow...impersonal. Having only one person stare at her in an empty room was far worse. It made her feel small and vulnerable. It didn't help that Carla was upstairs in her office. Miss was supposed to be here to reassure her and keep her safe. Lisa saw herself all over again through the man's leering eyes.

Everything about her was suggestive; the fur panties and bra left little to the imagination. The makeup that had been permanently tattooed on her the last time she was at the groomers' made her eyes look huge, giving her a pleading, puppy dog expression. A sparkly pink dog collar had been locked around her neck. Her whole appearance screamed of sexual submission. Lisa realized that she was wearing her leash. It dangled between her breasts like a silent invitation.

The delivery man finally broke the silence.

"Could you sign for this package?" he asked, holding out a pen.

Lisa stared down helplessly at her paws and realized that she couldn't.

I'm just a poodle, I can't do anything for myself.

The man smirked at her. "So...what are you supposed to be?"

Lisa froze. Suddenly she wasn't at all sure. To her horror, she heard herself repeat one of her training lessons.

"I'm just a horny little pet!"

There was a moment of dead silence. Then the man laughed and took hold of her leash. "You know, I think I used to deliver you your packages at work. I'm glad somebody finally put you in your place. After all, a dumb little slut like you shouldn't have a job. You'd only fuck things up. You belong on a short leash...don't you, bitch?"

Everything the man said to Lisa made her feel smaller and smaller. She stared down at the floor, too meek to even look him in the eye. The old Lisa would have argued, or slapped him in the face. But the fight had gone out of her. In its place was submission, and a kind of tacit agreement.

She wasn't supposed to be in an office, like a real person. She was just a dog on a leash. In fact, she wasn't even that; she was a caricature, a ridiculous parody of a dog who was kept as a toy for her owner's amusement. The idea that she should be given any respect or have any say over what happened to her seemed laughable.