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Copyright 2003 by Rod Harden All rights reserved |
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Warren sat forward in his chair, patting his lap. "Come here, Pookie. Come on, girl!" he called, encouraging his pet. Across the room, inside her dog crate, Pookie peered out, hesitating. Warren looked at his visitors and shrugged. "She's always a little shy in front of strangers."
He rose and strode toward the small cage. He picked up Pookie's leash, and gave it a gentle tug. Pookie whimpered and held back. He tugged again, this time a bit harder and finally succeeded in encouraging the pooch into the room. Not long before, "Pookie" had been Cheryl Philips, Director of Human Resources at a local corporation. Her transformation from businesswoman to pup had been simple and swift. Warren had arrived home early with his guests. He'd placed Cheryl's special collar on the coffee table in the living room and took his guests into the den to talk and await her arrival. When he heard Cheryl's car in the driveway, Warren held his finger to his lips. Silently, he and the two other men gathered at a monitor. The image was from a tiny video camera Warren had set up. They watched as Cheryl entered the room. She set her purse down and noticed the collar immediately. She paused, clutched her throat and licked her lips. Slowly, she approached the table and picked up the collar. After first removing the choker she wore, she buckled the dog collar on, then pulled the drapes shut. As she unbuttoned her blouse, she peered around the room as though searching for something. Nearby, out of sight, Warren winked at his friends. In a hoarse whisper, he explained, "She knows I'm watching, but I put the camera in a different spot each time." Three pairs of eyes widened as, on the screen, Cheryl tossed aside the blouse. Very deliberately, she adjusted her bra, without removing it. She cupped her lace-covered breasts and caressed herself. Once more, her hands went to her slender neck where she traced the smooth black leather. She hooked a finger in the ring and pulled on it as if she were trying to lead herself somewhere. Against her own force she held back. Presently, she dropped her hands to her sides. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths. She managed to take one deep breath, then kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her skirt, with far more hip wiggles and lingering, self-caresses than necessary. In the other room, Warren's hand crept toward the ripening bulges in his lap. From the corner of his eye, he could see his friends do likewise. "She puts on quite a show," whispered the huskier man. Warren refocused on the screen just in time to see Cheryl lean over and unclasp her bra. Pantyhose and panties soon joined the pile of shed clothing. Naked, she lowered herself to her knees. She opened a drawer in the coffee table and retrieved her leash. After snapping it onto her collar, she took the handle in her mouth and crawled over to the chrome cage waiting in the far corner. She turned and backed in, then dropped the leash and said, "Woof!" With her transformation complete, Warren's guests rose at once, but Warren shook his head and motioned for them to wait. During the ensuing minutes, Cheryl, now Pookie, grew restless. She shifted uncomfortably in the cage, whimpering like a lost puppy. At last, Warren had stood and led his friends to the living room. Pookie had been so glad to see her Master, it was easy to forget she didn't have a real tail. But when she saw the strangers, she shrank back into her cage, requiring the extra encouragement to emerge again. And now, finally, Warren was ready to show off his pet. He led Pookie by her leash to the middle of the room. Still on hands and knees, she held herself erect, not allowing her back to slouch. "These are some nice men I met at the club," he said to his pooch. "I told them how much you like to do tricks." The two men circled Pookie slowly. "You were right, Warren," said one, "she IS a fine bitch." The other stooped down and clasped her head in his hands, turning her face this way and that, and prying her mouth open. "Yes, a fine animal indeed." He began to stroke her hair. "Mind if we pet her?" "No, go right ahead," said Warren. "She loves the attention, really. Just didn't expect to see strangers here today. I suppose I could have told her, but doggies don't need to know what their Masters have planned, do they, Pookie?" He swatted her ass, elicited a dog-like whine. "In fact," he added to his guests, "let me make it easier for you." Picking up her leash, Warren guided Pookie to the coffee table. "Up on the table, girl! Jump up! There's a good doggie." Having climbed onto the table, the pooch resumed her pose while the two men began petting her all over. Beginning at her head, their hands soon found their way down her back, along her sides, across her hips. Under the stimulus of their attentions, she rocked and swayed, her very un-dog-like breasts swinging and undulating. "Does she like to be petted here?" asked one of the men, fingering one of the dangling tits. "Very much so. Feel free."
Happiness Is A Warm Puppy
Once more, the hands of the strangers fondled the pooch. They roved freely up and down her body. Fingers pinched her nipples, tugged at them. Other fingers found the moist folds of her pussy and thrust into her. Hands spread her ass cheeks, allowing another finger to invade her anus.
Pookie wiggled and writhed, sometimes away from, but more often against the pressure of the men's attentions. Her dog-like whines became whimpers, then wanton moans, as she struggled to control herself.
Warren stood beside Pookie's head. He patted her and watched the men grope his pet. He felt himself harden again, and pressed his swelling against her face. Smiling, he watched her tongue dart out, lapping at his hidden erection.
He let the petting zoo continue for a while, then called a halt. "I have a new trick I want her to try today. Back on the floor, Pookie. There's a good dog. Now roll onto your side."
Kneeling next to her, Warren reached for the drawer where Pookie had retrieved her leash. He pulled out several leather straps, each a couple of feet long. Without saying a word he took one of her "front legs" and bent it at the elbow. Using one of the straps, he bound her arm folded in half. He repeated with her other limbs, binding each forelimb to its respective upper limb.
When he was finished, he rolled her onto her tummy and pulled her up. With all four limbs forced into tightly folded positions, only her elbows and knees came in contact with the floor.
"Cool," said one of the men.
"Awesome," said the other.
Warren picked up Cheryl's panties, balled them up and tossed them across the room. "Fetch, Pookie! Fetch!"
Awkwardly, and whimpering the whole time, Pookie shuffled toward the panties. Warren shook his head and swatted her again. "Come on, mutt, you can go faster than that."
"Ow!" said Pookie, followed immediately by, "Oops, sorry!"
Warren chuckled. "Sometimes I find I have a talking dog," he said to his guests.
Eventually, Pookie managed to pick up the panties with her teeth and return to her Master. Warren pulled the damp material from her mouth and let his hand linger at her lips, allowing the eager pooch to suck his fingers briefly.
As she did, he reached his other hand into his pocket and pulled out a pair of clamps. When Pookie saw them, she whined and backed away. "Come on, Pookie. Don't make me get out the rolled up newspaper."
Stroking her hair, Warren knelt down beside his awkwardly bound pup. He reached beneath her and grasped a nipple, rolling it gently, prodding it to firmness. Then he snapped on the clamp. Pookie gasped and winced when he repeated the process with the other nipple.
Warren sat back on his heels and cradled Pookie's chin in his hand. He gazed into her eyes. "Are you going to need help being quiet?" Her sad puppy frown was all the answer he needed. From the handy drawer, he pulled a ball-gag and strapped it in place.
Pookie wobbled on elbows and knees as he stood and paced about the room, placing a dozen small metal disks on the floor at random locations. After setting the last one down, he sat in his easy chair.
"Notice the disks at the end of the clamps," he said to his guests. They leaned over to see that each clamp did, in fact, have a disk at the end, about an inch in diameter. "The disks I placed on the floor are magnets, and will attach themselves to the clamps in neat little stacks. All Pookie has to do is retrieve them all. Go on, girl, fetch the magnets."
With a loud moan, Pookie set herself in motion. One difficult step at a time, she approached the first magnet. Positioning herself over it, she paused to let her swaying breasts slow, then somehow lowered herself until the magnet sprang up.
All three men applauded. "Well done, Pookie," they said in unison, with Warren adding, "Only eleven more to go, girl."
Pookie groaned, but struggled back into motion toward the next disk. One by one, she gathered them, being careful to even them out on both tits. Cheerful words of encouragement from the spectators accompanied her all along the way.
At last only one disk remained. Warren chuckled and winked at his friends as she neared her goal. This one he had purposely set on one of the heater grates. Not only was it so close to the wall as to be hard to reach, but when Pookie finally managed to lower herself and swing a breast toward it, the magnet stuck to the metal grate as well as the clamp.
Panic flashed across Pookie's face. She began to pull away, gingerly, but stopped with her breast stretched taut, seemingly attached to the grate by the magnet. She looked up at Warren and whimpered.
"Go on, Pookie," said her Master. "You can do it, girl."
The pooch took a deep breath and steadied herself. She looked miserable, but resigned. At last, with a loud, agonized grunt, she yanked herself away, the final prize clinging to her swaying bosom. Warren came to her and patted her head, as she panted for breath.
"Outstanding," said one of his friends.
"Yes," said the other. "And I'd love to see more, but I'm afraid we really have to leave now."
"Too bad," said Warren. "Let me see you to the door." He took one step, then turned back to Pookie. "Stay, Pookie. Staaaay."
Warren saw the visitors off and hurried back to his pet. She stared up at him with tears brimming in her eyes. "You were a very good dog today, Pookie. And for that you get a treat!"
He knelt beside her and removed the clamps, eliciting more groans and tears as sensation flooded back into the pinched flesh. Then he released the straps binding her arms and legs, and let her resume her normal doggie position on hands and knees.
Standing in front of her, he removed his trousers and stroked his cock, brushing it against her lips, which were still stretched around the ball-gag.
"See the doggy treat I have for you?"
She nodded vigorously.
"Pookie want her treat now?"
Again she nodded, moaning now.
Laughing, he stepped behind her and knelt between her legs. He reached his hand between her thighs and felt her sopping warmth, her hungry slickness. Her arms seemed to collapse beneath her at his touch. With her face on the floor and her ass in the air, she backed against him as he guided himself into her. Pleased with her performance, he proceeded to fuck her long and hard and repeatedly.
Doggy style, of course.
Happiness Is A Warm Puppy |