The Lapdog Ch. 05

Chapter 5: The Person and the Petgirl

Lisa thought to herself that she would rather be anywhere but on display at the annual dog show. But there was nothing she could do about it. Lisa sat on all-fours on her table and submitted in silence to the primping of her handler. Her handler. Lisa winced. She wished that the people running the show had chosen someone else.

Her only hope was that it would all be over soon and that Miss would return to take her home. The crowds surrounded Lisa and the real dogs that were on the other tables, but it was her that everyone was staring at. She tried not to pay attention to the fragments of conversation that rose above the roar of the audience.

"...heard she gets off on this. Shameless little..."

"I bet if I got her some dog chow, she'd..."

"...her on the end of my leash. Look at the size of those..."

Lisa straightened up and put the mockery of the crowd behind her as she saw the judge and the announcer walking towards her. She didn't want to let Miss down. Lisa froze as she saw that there was a cameraman with them. She glanced at a nearby screen and, to her despair, saw the reason why. The dog show was being televised this year.

On the screen was an old photo of her dressed in a conversative pantsuit that exuded confidence and professionalism. As Lisa watched, the picture was replaced with a live video of her as she was now, sitting on her table on her hands and knees with brightly-colored ribbons woven into her fur. The camera zoomed in on her pink-dyed face, framed by her poodle wig and dog collar. Everyone that Lisa had ever known or met, everyone who had ever respected her, everyone who had thought that she was someone worth listening to, would see on their television the meek, obedient pet that she had become. Lisa whimpered as she read the caption at the bottom of the screen.

Lisa Andrews: Woman trades high finance for doggie treats

"And now we've come to the toy division of this year's show. Our first entry is Lisa, a poodle owned by Carla Davenport. Miss Davenport couldn't be here today, so Lisa's being presented by one of our handlers, George Wilson, who I understand used to know Lisa in quite a different way. Isn't that right, George?"

George smiled and gave Lisa a little tap on the ass, causing her tail to swing back and forth. "Yes, back when she was a stray, Lisa used to work in the office down the hall from me. You should have seen her. She looked so cute, sitting behind her desk, just like a real person. Naturally, though, the poor thing was totally unable to cope. You could see that it was only a matter of time before she got herself into trouble. It was so kind of Miss Davenport to rescue her and bring her into her home. Now that Lisa's got her paws and tail, she doesn't need to worry her silly little head with anything other than entertaining her mistress with all of her antics.

Of course, Miss Davenport had to train her first. I gave you some snapshots of that, didn't I?"

Lisa looked on in horror as the television began to show pictures of her time as a pet, while George narrated for the benefit of the audience. There was a photo of her eating out of a dog bowl. There was a picture of her peeing on the grass. And there was one with her face buried in her mistress's crotch. The presentation ended with a photo of Lisa on her knees staring up at the camera, with her paws in begging position and an idiotic grin plastered on her pink face.

"There's our Lisa, nice and tame, and right where she belongs!"

The announcer looked down at her with a patronizing smile then turned to the camera. "Well, thanks for telling us all about Lisa. I'm sure she's happier now that she's found her place and has a nice owner to look after her. Let's talk with our judge. Can you tell us a bit about this breed?"

The judge patted Lisa on the head. "Well, in terms of personality, they're generally quite docile. You don't see them in the wild, as they have no survival skills. This breed is generally unintelligent, and Lisa here is definitely no exception."

The announcer laughed. "Yes, she doesn't look any too bright!"

Lisa squirmed in humiliation as she heard some giggles from the crowd.

"True. Lisa's obviously incapable of surviving on her own or thinking for herself. However, observe her responsiveness."

She gasped as the judge thrust his hand between her legs, while the crowd laughed and laughed...

Lisa's strange nightmares continued. However, there was one notable difference. Her dreams used to start with her believing that she was free, or at the very least that she was no longer a pet, only to learn otherwise in some frightening or humiliating fashion. But now her nightmares began with her already knowing that she was Miss Davenport's lapdog. Even in her dreams, she remained a toy poodle, with her mistress's collar sealed around her neck and her hands forever imprisoned in soft pink paws. Perhaps it was because increasingly that was how Lisa saw herself. More and more she looked at herself not as a stockbroker who was behaving like a pet, but as a pet who had once been a stockbroker.

Of course, she wasn't all pet. At least, not yet. There were two Lisas - the person that she had been, and the pet that she was becoming. As the days passed, there was less of the old Lisa and more of the new. The old Lisa was still there, trying desperately to keep herself from becoming any more doglike than she already was. But that Lisa was fighting a losing battle. After all, she didn't have much to offer.

The person that Lisa had once been felt shame at what she had become. She used to be successful and respected. Now she was a slave who had to wear a humiliating dog costume for her owner's amusement. Even worse, Lisa's poodle outfit left her without the slightest degree of independence. She couldn't even bathe or feed herself. But the worst part was that there was no hope of going back to the way things were. Her costume, and her life, was a soft, comfortable prison from which there was no parole and no escape.

The old Lisa protested bitterly to herself that she wasn't meant to be a dog. That she should be ashamed of how she humiliated herself to satisfy Miss Davenport's slightest whim, and that she should be even more ashamed of how much she enjoyed that humiliation. But in the end, those silent protests were the extent of Lisa's defiance. She was too far gone to do anything else. By now Lisa was too submissive and too well-trained to disobey her mistress, or even to argue with her. She had long since given up on trying to do things for herself, and she was beginning to forget how to think for herself. Which only increased the old Lisa's despair.

By contrast, the new Lisa was enjoying herself. She felt no shame in submitting to her mistress. She didn't concern herself with what she was supposed to want, only with what she did want. She was able to admit to herself that she loved being a pet. She loved the pleasures that she received. She loved the thousand humiliations that made those pleasures all the more exciting. And...she loved being with Miss. As time went on, the battle between the old Lisa and the new came down to a simple question. Did she want to be an unhappy person, or a happy pet?

As Lisa became used to her new life, and as her relationship with her mistress grew, the answer seemed increasingly obvious. Of course, Lisa the person questioned whether being kept as a slave and treated like a dog was really a proper relationship. Lisa the pet disagreed, and to some extent she was right. You could argue about whether Lisa's relationship with her mistress was normal, healthy, or even sane, but there was no denying that it was there. Miss meant everything to Lisa, and it had become clear to Lisa that in a sense, her mistress felt much the same way.

It was true that Miss Davenport treated Lisa like a dog. But she wasn't just any dog. Lisa was Mistress's special pet. Miss gave her the finest food, the softest blankets, and spent most of her time with her. It occurred to Lisa on more than one occasion that her mistress cared more about her as a dog than anyone had ever cared about her as a person. She had become addicted to that idea, that feeling that she was something precious. Lisa clung to the slightest sign of her owner's favor. She wanted to drink in her mistress's affection until she was filled with it, until all of her fears and doubts and failings had been swept away.

The answer to all of Lisa's problems seemed to be that she should become more doglike, not less. Every time that she embraced her role as her mistress's obedient pet, her shame faded away, to be replaced with submissive bliss. Of course, acting like a pet also meant being rewarded with all of the pleasures that Miss Davenport could provide. But above all, acting like a pet led to the praise and adoration of her mistress. All of these things made Lisa as eager to please as the most faithful of dogs. The old Lisa still protested, but she usually lost in the end. Lisa's need to satisfy her mistress was strong, and it grew stronger every day. Which was why one afternoon she found herself sitting on the floor by the window and debating with herself about whether she should stand up or not.

Miss Davenport had been out all day at a business meeting. Carla had left her pet some food in her dog bowl, but Lisa had only picked at it. She didn't like it when Miss left her alone. Like a real lapdog, she grew lonely and anxious when she wasn't with her owner. Whenever Miss Davenport left her at home, Lisa tended to sit and wait by the front door so that she would be there when her mistress returned. She always started out by trying to distract herself by watching TV or wandering about the house, but she inevitably ended up on the floor, peeking out the window in the hope that she would see Miss drive through the gate.

Both Lisa the person and Lisa the pet were unhappy when Miss Davenport went out. The new Lisa didn't like it that Miss wasn't there, and felt compelled to sit and wait for her owner. But the old Lisa was ashamed of herself. She had gone from someone who was strong and independent, to someone so emotionally fragile that she fell to pieces without the reassuring presence of her mistress. Lisa's vigil by the front door was one of the few secrets that she had left, and she was desperate to keep it. Miss had already seen her cum, eat out of a dog bowl, and perform countless other indignities, but somehow Lisa couldn't bear the thought of Miss Davenport seeing her waiting on her hands and knees by the window like a lonely pet.

In order to keep from being found out, Lisa would stand up when Miss arrived and make a show of acting like she just happened to be walking past the door. It was an unconvincing performance, and it had become even more unconvincing over time. Lisa wasn't fooling herself, and she probably wasn't fooling Carla either. But pride compelled her to continue with the pretense. However, today it occurred to Lisa that Miss would really like it if her pet was waiting for her at the door on all-fours.

It's degrading, the old Lisa protested. I shouldn't be groveling on the floor. Miss will think that I can't cope without her.

But it's true, responded the new Lisa. I can't cope without her. Nothing seems right when Mistress goes away. Besides, Miss takes care of me, and feeds me and pets me and lets me cum when I'm good. She's my owner, and I'm her dog. I should do something to let her know how glad I am that she's home.

Stop it. I have to remember that I'm not really a dog, I'm...damn it, I'm doing it again.

Lisa realized that she had been rubbing her paw between her legs. The pleasures and humiliations of Lisa's new life had left her in a nearly continuous haze of arousal, and the urge to touch herself had become stronger and stronger. It was a habit that she couldn't seem to break, no matter how hard she tried. To Lisa it was a symbol of her increasingly tenuous grasp on her humanity. While in her old life she had projected an air of quiet professionalism, now she was unable to keep herself from pawing at her crotch like an animal. But then Lisa saw something much more important than her fading dignity. Miss had returned!

She's back! She's really back! Ooh, she got food from that place with the small plates. She's going to feed me by hand, I just know it! I love it when Miss does that. She looks tired though. It must have been an awful meeting.

Lisa could barely contain herself as she heard the key turning in the lock. She was so emotionally dependent on her owner that every time her mistress returned, she got as excited as a hyperactive dog. Without even thinking about it, Lisa made her choice. She sat on her hands and knees in front of the door and waited for her owner.

Miss Davenport's tired face broke into a smile as she saw her pet looking up at her.

"There's my girl! Did you miss me?"

Lisa was too excited and happy to speak, so she just nodded eagerly. Her dignity forgotten, she hugged her mistress's legs.

Miss Davenport stroked her head. "What a sweet doggie you are! I missed you too. Come on, girl, let's eat. I got all your favorites."

Lisa smiled as she followed her mistress into the kitchen. Waiting on her hands and knees had definitely been the right decision.

Lisa's excitement at her mistress's homecoming was typical of her new self. In her old life, she had always been the kind of person who planned ahead. Lisa looked at the big picture. But now Miss Davenport made all of Lisa's plans for her, and she rarely told her in advance what those plans were. Lisa couldn't look at the big picture, because she didn't know what the big picture was. At first, not knowing what was going to happen to her was frightening. Then it became an annoyance. But then, as Lisa grew used to being kept in the dark, it began to affect how she looked at the world around her.

Lisa began to develop a kind of blind spot in her thinking. It's hard to think about something about which you know absolutely nothing, and Lisa knew nothing about her future. She knew that her owner would continue to keep her as a safe, pampered, and utterly helpless pet, but beyond that, she was entirely ignorant of what the day might bring. As a result, Lisa became used to not thinking about things in advance. She simply accepted each moment, bad or good, as it came.

Lisa was becoming a short-term thinker, a creature of strong emotions and immediate pleasures. She never knew what would happen in the future, so all of her thoughts and emotions were focused on the present. Whatever was happening now, whatever she was feeling now, was of supreme importance. Today was all that mattered. Tomorrow was in the hands of her mistress.

As Lisa herself had begun to realize, one of the effects of her inability to think about the long-term consequences of her actions was that her self-control was fading away, and so were her inhibitions. Lisa's sexually charged life meant that her pussy was rarely dry, and the only thing holding her back was her rapidly diminishing willpower. Eventually the inevitable happened. She got caught playing with herself.

Carla was hard at work at her desk, while Lisa, loyal pet that she was, sat on her blanket by her side. Lisa perked up as she realized that it was almost time for her to eat out her mistress. That always made her excited. Soon she'd be trapped between Miss's thighs, unable to do anything but pleasure her with her mouth. Then Lisa saw that Miss Davenport was staring down at her with the hint of a smile on her face.

"I see my pet is feeling frisky today."

"Frisky, Miss? I don't...understand..." Lisa suddenly realized what she had been doing with her paw. "I...oh..."

Lisa closed her eyes as a mixture of shame and arousal coursed through her. Miss Davenport patted her on the head. Then she turned on the current in Lisa's panties. Not enough to let her cum. Just enough to tease.

"There's no need to be shy. That's one of the nice things about being a pet. If you were a person, well, that would be shameful. Being caught touching yourself. Just imagine what people would say if they saw you. But you're not a person, are you? Tell Miss what you are. And keep rubbing yourself while you do it."

Lisa looked up at her owner with both of her paws stuffed in her crotch in a futile attempt to cum. The teasing in her panties, combined with the humiliation of being caught, had increased her lust until it was unbearable, making it difficult for her to speak, or even to think. "Unh...I'm...uh...a...I ah...I need...I...I'm your...dog. Please, I...um...I'm your dog and...I...I need to cum."

Miss Davenport gave her a smile, as if Lisa had been especially clever.

"That's right. You're just my doggie, and doggies touch themselves in public all the time. So, you see, it's ok that you can't control yourself. You can use those cute little paws of yours as much as you like. Besides, you look adorable when you try to cum by yourself. As for being allowed an orgasm, I think you already know the answer to that. I love to spoil my pet. Enjoy your treat, dear."

With that, Carla touched the remote, driving Lisa over the edge. As pleasure overtook her, she abandoned rational thought and came without dignity, curled up on the floor at her mistress's feet with her paws thrust between her legs.

When it was all over, Lisa found that the insides of her thighs were slick and her paws were drenched with her own juices. Miss Davenport gazed down at her from her chair.

"Just look at those wet paws. You did get yourself messy, didn't you girl?"

Lisa stared at the floor, too embarrassed to speak.

Miss Davenport scratched her under the chin. "You know what that means, don't you?"

Lisa looked up at her mistress with a puzzled frown and shook her head.

"Bathtime!"

Her shame forgotten, Lisa broke into a smile as she followed her mistress to the shower. She loved bathtime.

Being caught playing with herself had been both a humiliating and an exciting experience. But it had also been a lesson in being open and honest about her sexuality. By now Lisa was used to having Miss Davenport decide what she should and shouldn't do. Knowing that Mistress wanted her to masturbate made all the difference. It meant that it was all right for her to touch herself, and to be upfront about her needs. In fact, it was what she was supposed to do. Her old self whispered that she was behaving like a slut, and even worse, that she was turning into a dumb animal who thought only of pleasure, but her protests were easily pushed aside. If Miss wanted her to enjoy herself, and she wanted to enjoy herself, why hold back?

Of course, although Lisa could touch herself whenever she liked, her paws kept her from being able to make herself cum. But that seemed only right. An orgasm wasn't something a silly little pet like her was supposed to be able to have at will. Her owner decided when she should cum, just like she decided everything else. In a way, that made her orgasms even more special. An orgasm wasn't just entertainment, it was a present given to her by her mistress. Every time she was allowed to cum was another reminder that she was Miss's cherished pet, to be showered with comfort and pleasure.

As she became more open about her desires, Lisa's kinky side grew more prominent. She quivered with excitement whenever her mistress pushed her onto the training saddle and locked the manacles over her limbs. Like Pavlov's dog, Lisa became aroused at the mere sound of the leash being attached to her collar. The idea that Miss Davenport might pull her by it or tie her to the furniture made her wet, while being chained to Miss's chair so that she could serve her with her mouth excited her beyond words.