The Lapdog Ch. 05

In thinking about it, Lisa realized that she shouldn't have been surprised. Carla's rich friends certainly had enough money to buy out an enslavement contract, and given how kinky Miss Davenport was, it was only natural that some of her acquaintances would share her tastes. But it had never occurred to Lisa that the people they visited might have slaves of their own. As Lisa sat obediently by her mistress's side, she passed the time by examining the maid, and she noticed that the maid, who she gathered was named Genevieve, seemed to be just as curious about her.

Stephen's slave was beautiful, and her maid costume was nice. But Lisa didn't think the other woman's collar was as pretty as hers. It was made of stainless steel with a large ring on the front, forming a seamless band around her neck that gleamed in the light. There was no lock, no hinge, and no hope of release. It was a collar for a slave, not a pet. Genevieve's wrists were chained together with shackles that looked as solid and inescapable as her collar. She must have worn them for some time; Stephen's maid seemed accustomed to her bondage.

Lisa frowned as she thought about how adroitly Genevieve had served them dinner in spite of her chains. She wasn't able to do things like that for Miss; her paws prevented her from doing anything useful. But then again, Lisa thought to herself, Miss hadn't bought her so that she could be a maid. As a house pet, her purpose was to bring pleasure to her mistress. That was much more important than cleaning and carrying things around.

Genevieve's chain tinkled softly as she served Stephen and Carla their drinks with well-practiced skill. Miss Davenport poured a little of hers into Lisa's bowl. As Lisa lapped up her wine, she wondered what sort of relationship her fellow slavegirl had with her master. Sex, chores, and sexy chores, probably. At least she didn't look like she was being mistreated, that put her ahead of most slaves.

Lisa supposed that in a way Genevieve had more freedom than her. She could use her hands, and do things for herself and for her master. A part of Lisa envied that small bit of independence. On the other hand, who mattered more to the master of the house, a maid, or a cherished pet? Lisa looked down at her paws. In a sense, they were a message, or a promise. Her paws didn't just take away Lisa's ability to do things for herself, they were a sign that Lisa would never have to do things for herself. That Miss would always look after her. It was a nice thought, and it made her feel much better.

Lisa's attention turned to the conversation between Stephen and Carla. In between the usual polite remarks and small talk, the two owners bragged about their slaves over drinks. Although Lisa was beginning to get used to being talked about, it still made her feel a bit bashful. Still, it was always nice to bask in Mistress's praise.

"I will say," Stephen admitted grudgingly, "that your pet is very well trained."

Carla smiled and stroked Lisa's head as she sipped her wine.

"Thank you. I can't take all the credit though. She's a natural. As meek and submissive as can be," Miss Davenport turned and looked down at her pet. "You're just Miss's perfect little doggie, aren't you?"

Ordinarily, Lisa would have given her mistress a silent nod. As Carla had pointed out, she was still shy around strangers, and easily embarrassed. But seeing Miss brag about her to another master did something to Lisa. Mistress was so proud of her, and Lisa wanted to live up to that pride. Besides, Stephen had been showing off Genevieve, and she didn't want to let Miss down. Lisa couldn't bear the thought of Mistress coming off as second best. She felt that she had to do something to show their host that she really was a good pet, and that Miss was the best owner in the whole world.

Lisa looked up at her mistress with a cheery smile, and shook her ass so that her tail wagged. She was able to talk, but speech wasn't what was called for.

"Arf! Arf!"

Stephen chuckled as Lisa stuck out her tongue and panted like a dog while continuing to wag her tail. It wasn't the laughter of someone who had seen a person acting like an animal, but the delight of someone who had been surprised with a trick that he had thought too complicated for a pet to learn. Lisa squirmed in humiliation as her old self resurfaced, reminding her of what she was doing, and how foolish she must look. But what she was doing wasn't as shameful as why she was doing it.

Lisa's life as Carla's toy poodle had gotten her used to being denied even the smallest scrap of dignity. But this time was different. Miss Davenport hadn't forced her or even asked her to degrade herself in this way. No one was doing anything to humiliate Lisa. Nor had she been carried away by lust or emotion. Of her own free will, she had made a conscious decision to degrade herself in front of a total stranger.

Lisa told herself that it was no different than how she behaved back home. That, after all, she was already touching herself and getting on all fours for her mistress's amusement on a regular basis. But deep down, Lisa knew that putting on a display of her own making for someone that she didn't even know was a point of no return.

Miss Davenport smiled and patted Lisa on the head. She gazed down at her pet with a fond expression on her face. Stephen's enormous house suddenly felt much less cold and uninviting, and dignity seemed far less important.

"Good girl."

Carla took out a bag of candies from her pocket and fed Lisa by hand.

Stephen raised his eyebrows. "Imported Brielle truffles? A bit extravagant for a slave, isn't it?"

"I suppose so, but she's worth every penny," Miss Davenport said as stroked Lisa's nose. "Aren't you, girl?"

Lisa glowed. Some indignities were worth enduring.

The morning after found Lisa being groomed by her mistress. Miss didn't do as skilled or as elaborate a job as Deborah and Michelle, but Lisa found that she liked it better when her mistress brushed her. It was a quiet, special time for her and Miss to bond.

Despite the lack of anything explicitly erotic, Lisa found that the experience of being groomed by her mistress made her feel intensely submissive. Being groomed made it feel right to submit, as if she was a puzzle piece that had been snapped into the proper place.

Lisa looked in the mirror. All was as it should be. She sat on all-fours on her grooming table, while Miss brushed her and told her what a good dog she was. Mistress always turned her voice off for her grooming sessions. Lisa didn't mind; not being able to speak helped her to relax and enjoy herself. She didn't have to think about what to say in response to Miss's compliments, she could just sit quietly and let them sink in. Lisa held still as her owner wove another ribbon into her fur.

Her fur. It occurred to Lisa that, for the most part, she didn't think of her poodle outfit as a costume anymore. In her mind, she didn't think of it as "my fur wig", she thought of it as "my fur". Just as it was "my tail", not "the tail on the back of my panties". Lisa stared thoughtfully at what she saw in the mirror. A dog and her mistress.

Seeing Genevieve with her master had given Lisa something to think about. When Lisa had awakened to find that she was wearing a poodle costume, she had looked at herself as a slave who was being forced to participate in a humiliating sex game for her owner's amusement. From that point of view, Miss Davenport's remarks about her being a lapdog were nothing more than elaborate roleplay. But as time went on, Lisa had come to think of herself as an actual pet rather than someone playing at being one. Seeing another master with his slave had given Lisa a rare moment of clarity, causing her to revisit her own relationship with her mistress.

Whether it was in the kitchen or in the bedroom, most slaves had to work night and day for their owners - or else. Even pleasure slaves usually had...activities to perform when they weren't with their masters. But the first thing that Miss Davenport had done was to place Lisa in an outfit that made it impossible for her to do any work at all. That said a lot about what Miss wanted her to be. Naturally Mistress expected Lisa to pleasure her on command, but it was equally obvious that she wanted more than that. Lisa looked again at her reflection.

The huge mirror with its gilded frame presented her with a kind of living portrait. There was Miss Davenport, and there on the table was her pampered and obedient pet, being petted and brushed and adorned with ribbons. Miss looked...happy. Many of Carla's thoughts remained strange and unknowable to Lisa, but she felt that when she looked in the mirror she understood, at least for a moment, what Miss wanted. But what did she want? Slaves were supposed to want to regain their freedom and dignity, weren't they? Would that make her happy? If Lisa did have a choice about what her life was, what would it look like?

Lisa...wasn't sure. Freedom? Lisa wasn't an amnesiac, she certainly remembered being free, and she remembered how much it had hurt to lose that freedom. But even putting aside her inability to fend for herself, the thought of being a free woman just wasn't attractive to Lisa anymore. Her memories from before she became Miss Davenport's property seemed to have a gray, lifeless quality to them.

Wearing drab clothes in featureless offices while talking to nameless clients. Having to think and worry and plan because she didn't have anyone to tell her what to do. Nights spent alone in her apartment, with no one to pet her and tell her how pretty she was. Lisa didn't know whether her feelings about her old life were her own, or if they were the result of Miss Davenport's training. All she knew was that her mistress fussed over her and played with her and always knew how to make her feel better. Why would she want to be free from that?

What about dignity? Did she want the respect that came with being a person instead of a pet? That was an even harder question to answer, particularly in light of how she had been behaving recently. It was true that being treated like a dog was humiliating. But Lisa now knew that she got off on being humiliated, so where did that leave her? She had always believed that dignity was something that everyone wanted. But was it what she wanted?

The easy answer, and the one that grew larger in her mind every day, was that what she really wanted was to be Miss's lapdog. But did she even know what that meant? Miss was still in the process of training her, and Lisa had no way of knowing who she would be when it was all over. How could she say that she agreed with Miss Davenport's plans for her, when she didn't even know what those plans were?

There were so many questions that Lisa didn't know how to answer, questions about her mistress, and questions about herself. Lisa felt...unfinished, like a loaf of bread that needed a little more time in the oven. There was enough of her old self to make her uncomfortable at times about her life as a pet, but not enough for her to be the person that she had once been.

Lisa felt her concerns fade away as her mistress stroked her body and whispered nice things into her ear. She smiled and wagged her tail. The future could wait. Lisa wasn't sure in the scheme of things who or what she was supposed to be, or what her life was supposed to look like. But this, with her mistress's arms wrapped around her and her ears filled with her owner's praise, this would do for now.