When E. enters the room, she’s waiting as instructed, kneeling naked on the floor, her bottom resting on her heels, her back straight, her hands behind her. He reaches down and strokes the back of her neck.
‘Is puppy ready for her training?’ he says.
She nods. From the cupboard he fetches the hood. She’s been shown it already, but this is the first time it will be used. When she first caught sight of it, in the online fetish store he directed her to, she was intimidated. It had a long muzzle, just like a real dog, with a zip for the mouth. It encased the whole head, with two dog-like ears at the top. She’s never worn anything like this and only played around once or twice with masks.
As he fits it over her head, she inhales the powerful smell of the new leather. He makes sure it fits snugly, then laces it tightly up at the back. She peers out through the small holes for her eyes. She can only see straight ahead. He unzips the mouth opening and pushes the big leather plug attached to the inside of the headdress into her mouth. She can feel the hood changing her, her head transformed, her mouth gagged; she’s so docile now, such a good girl. He zips up the mouth again. She can breathe perfectly well, but she’s enclosed, controlled.
He’s got more things to put on her. First there are leather wrist cuffs. Once they are on, he connects them with a short metal chain. She can move her hands but only about six inches apart. He puts similar cuffs on her ankles, and these too are chained together. Her movements are going to be quite restricted. And then he brings out something she hasn’t seen before—a leather belt, about six inches wide, more like a mini-corset. He fits it round her waist, pulling the straps tight so her waist is nipped in. It’s not uncomfortable, but it adds greatly to her sense of being restricted, restrained. And then her eyes open wide as from the drawer he brings another leather belt, much narrower and shorter. It has two wooden plugs attached, smooth, polished plugs, one a little bigger than the other. Quickly he lubricates her bottom and pushes in the smaller of the plugs, although it’s plenty big enough, filling her ass completely full. The other plug he pushes into her cunt. Then he buckles each end of the belt to her leather corset, front and back, so that the belt stretches tight between her legs, and the plugs push up inside her, held securely in place. Finally, he snaps a leather leash onto the steel ring at the back of her hood, and she’s ready.
She knows the commands and what’s expected of her. This isn’t the first training session, but never before has she been dressed for the part. From the chair he picks up his riding crop and swishes it to and fro. Fervently she hopes he won’t feel the need to use it. He tugs on the leash.
‘Walkies,’ he says.
She crawls after him. The chains on her cuffs are awkward. She almost gets herself in a tangle as she tries to keep up with him while he marches smartly round the room. She knows she has to keep exactly level with his feet, not too far in front, not too far behind. Suddenly he stops, yanking hard on the leash.
‘Sit,’ he says.
She rests back on her heels.
‘Beg,’ he says.
She lifts up her hands as she’s been taught, holding them on each side of her face, the chain just under her nose. Gagged as she is, he can’t feed her some morsel as he otherwise might. Perhaps she’ll get a little reward later.
‘Walk,’ he says, pulling hard on the leash.
He takes her into the kitchen and opens the back door. Instinctively she holds back. Surely he can’t mean to take her out there dressed like this? There’s a hedge, but the back garden is by no means hidden from prying neighbours.
Sensing her reluctance, he pulls harder still on the leash, and suddenly flicks the crop against her bare bottom. It doesn’t hurt much, but it focuses her mind, and she begins to crawl forward. They circle the garden twice, while she glances from side to side, trying to see if they are being watched. She sighs with relief when they go back inside, without apparently being noticed. He leads her into the sitting room, sits on the couch and draws her towards him, patting his lap, meaning her to rest her head there. He strokes her back, soothing her, then begins to speak to her about her training, telling her what a good little puppy she is and how fond of her he is. But he says that her natural exuberance needs some regulation. She needs to understand that she mustn’t jump up on him without being told to, that she mustn’t lick his face unless he says to do so. Above all, she mustn’t try to sniff his crotch like little puppy dogs often do. Inside her hood she allows herself a smile at this last command. He says that later this afternoon there will be more training. He’s going to show her just exactly how he wants her to provide oral service. She has a natural talent, he says, but she must learn to be a little more disciplined and do only what he tells her to and not get carried away. Does she understand? She nods. She so much wants to do everything well and please him.
‘And now, little puppy, I have something to tell you. I have decided on a name for you.’
She looks up at him expectantly, her head cocked to one side, eager to be told.
‘From now on, when you are my puppy dog you will answer to the name ‘pup’. Do you like it?’
She nods, then rubs her head against his knee. Pup by name and pup by nature.
‘Time for lunch,’ he says. ‘Are you hungry, pup?’
With her gag still in place under the headdress, she can’t speak, but she nods her head enthusiastically.
‘When puppies see food coming, they wag their tails,’ he says.
She looks up at him, not quite sure what is expected.
‘Turn around and let me see you wag your tail,’ he instructs.
With the headdress in place, he can’t see her blushes. But he must know they are there. She turns around and wiggles her bottom from side to side. It’s a little awkward with the two plugs in place between her legs, and she feels a little foolish, but what can she do? He seems pleased with the result. He pulls on her leash and leads her into the kitchen.
‘Sit,’ he says.
She sits back on her heels by the kitchen table, then goes to the fridge.
‘What do puppies eat, I wonder?’ he says to himself.
He comes back with some cold meat on a plate and the makings of a salad. There’s some bread and cheese too. He sits at the table and begins to eat. She’s feeling quite hungry now, but though she has her head tilted back expectantly, he seems to be ignoring her. Several minutes pass in silence. Then he puts down his knife and fork and unzips the mouth of the headdress. He reaches in and removes her gag.
‘Hands behind your back,’ he says, unhitching the chain linking them together. He reaches behind her, and links her wrists together again. He puts a small piece of meat on a fork and offers it to her. She tries to takes it off the fork with her lips, but he moves it away.
‘I want to hear you ask nicely,’ he says.
She’s not quite sure what this would entail, but she has to make an effort.
‘Please, sir, would –’
‘No,’ he says sharply. ‘I mean, ask like a pup would. What do pups say?’
She blushes scarlet inside her headdress. She remembers the first time he made her do this, how humiliating it was. I’m a grown woman, she thought, I can’t play these silly games. But he was adamant. They would stay there until she obeyed, he had said, and she knew he meant it. At first, the sound that came out of her mouth was more like a tiny squeak than anything. He’d insisted she try again, that she could do better. After several more attempts, she did it to his satisfaction. ‘Woof, woof,’ she had said, nearly dying of shame.
So now, she has to say it again. Though it’s not the first time it doesn’t seem any easier. She hesitates, trying to summon up courage. He puts the fork with the piece of meat into his own mouth, and chews contentedly.
‘I don’t care if you don’t eat at all,’ he says indifferently. He takes another mouthful. Pup is getting really hungry now. Is it such a big thing he’s asking? But the more she hesitates, the bigger a thing it seems to become. Getting up, he fetches his riding crop from the other room.
‘I’m losing patience,’ he says.
He raises the crop and brings it down across her rump. It stings. But worse than that, she’s displeased him.
‘Woof, woof,’ she says.
‘Woof, woof,’ she says with more conviction.
‘Good little pup,’ he says. He spears a piece of meat with his fork and puts it in her mouth. She chews with relish. He offers her a piece of lettuce, then a slice of tomato. It’s a slow process, but he is patient. She’s allowed a bite from a slice of bread, then more meat and salad. He cuts a morsel of cheese and holds it above her head.
‘Woof, woof,’ she says without being told.
‘Catch,’ he says, and lets the cheese drop. She manages to catch it in her mouth before it falls. Finally he peels an apple and feeds it to her slice by slice.
‘Are you thirsty, pup?’ he asks.
‘Woof, woof,’ she says again.
He fetches a bowl, fills it with water and sets it on the floor. She doesn’t see how she could possibly drink from it with the headdress on. He goes to a drawer and returns with a packet of straws, and puts one in her mouth.
‘Drink,’ he says.
She kneels down, her mouth close to the bowl and begins to suck up the water through the straw. She wishes it were something stronger. When the water is all gone he takes the straw away.
‘Good girl,’ he says, and pats her on the head.