by Trent Evans
Then the thought came to her.
There was one person who would be there for her. There was one person who had always been there for her. The one person she’d left on purpose. She could see now that she’d needlessly wounded him, for she had no doubt he would have been hurt. Was he even alive? Did he still remember her? It had been years, of course, but she assumed he would. Perhaps he would be so angry with her that he would have written her off?
It was Howard.
And she did miss him. In that moment, it ached how much she missed him. He was the last connection to her past. He was the last reminder of what she used to be before … this.
Before the new Rose.
Her life took on a new routine, a new cadence, after her owner had finally taken her. His training of her body was unrelenting now. Every day, for hours, she would sweat and toil on her treadmill, under his whip, under his all-seeing gaze. And following that, she would be led around on a leash on her hands and knees until she was aching, until the tears of frustration and shame and need streamed down her face. Her bottom would always end up sore, and burning, and aching. Often after her trials at the end of his lead, she’d press those same tormented buttocks to the coolness of her heels as she knelt before him, bobbing her head in his lap, taking the hard, veined shaft a little deeper than she had the last time. Now, she hardly even gagged, though he still gave her a fond smile when she did.
It wasn’t until a full week after he’d taken her virginity that he’d fitted her with the thick, black leather... paws.
The first time he’d fitted them to her, she shivered, hiding her head, unable to meet his gaze. His pleased murmurs said more than any words could.
They sheathed her fingers in individual pockets; yet on the outside, it was one bulky – though still comfortable and useful – paw.
He was making her into an animal. He was making her into his pet. She had no idea that he meant the term so… literally.
Around her lower legs, he had constructed what looked to be a cross between knee pads and shin guards, sheathing her legs from the top of her kneecap all the way down to her ankle. It protected her legs and allowed her to crawl more or less indefinitely on all fours. She couldn’t help but picture how she might look like if he decided to bind her lower legs to her thighs. He most certainly could if he truly wished to turn her into a tormented, humiliated thing.
Still, not being able to feel anything with her hands, nor her lower legs was a deprivation in itself. At first, she didn’t realize it, the novelty of these accessories — and the ever present force of her embarrassment — numbing her to it. The only time he took them off was to wash her, to spray her down over that humiliating grate. But soon, she’d begun to miss that touch. That simple feel of something, anything, against her hands, her knees, her legs. Was that his intent?
Yes, inside, she knew it was. It must have been.
And along with her training, his use of her became more frequent, rougher, more exacting. Even brutal, at times. It was rare that she wouldn’t come off her treadmill, panting, pouring with sweat, and not have him order her to her knees, his erection already gripped in his fist. A tap of that huge head against the corner of her mouth and she would open obediently, careful to keep her gaze on his penis as he’d trained her. He seemed to know that the imposition of forbidding her from looking up at him somehow made her less, somehow made her feel more shame as she serviced him.
And yet, at the same time, that shame, that feeling of being less, only increased her dark, twisted arousal.
Sometimes he would let her suck him to completion. Often, he withheld his own pleasure, depriving her of even that tiny bit of accomplishment, of feeling useful, even powerful. He could keep that from her too. He controlled all of it.
And though she hated it, paradoxically, she also liked it, even craved it.
Why do you like these things, Rose? What’s wrong with you? Who are you?
She couldn’t answer that question. Such a question was, to her mind, unanswerable now, for she was becoming something she could no longer define. She was still human, yes, but her body — and especially her mind — felt she was becoming something else entirely, someone she increasingly couldn’t recognize as... Rose.
And yet, knowing that, there was a freeing element to it. There was release in not having to worry about the things that used to occupy her mind. There was something purely exhilarating about the simplicity of her existence now.
How can you feel free in chains, Rose?
But she could. When was the last time she worried about anything other than making him happy? How long has it been since she’d truly worried about... anything? If she worked hard, if she obeyed, if she made him happy, then she had nothing to concern herself with anymore.
Perhaps she might fret about not being able to have an orgasm, or the sting of a new whip, or the way she still gagged frustratingly on his cock – but she knew he would be patient with her, because she was trying so hard. Even if she failed, he would give her that privilege of trying again. She wanted to reward his patience, prove to him that it was worth giving her the time and space to learn to please him.
What did become increasingly urgent for her — and it weighed heavier on her mind by the day — was the prospect of when he’d let her come again. How many days had it has been since that last mind-destroying orgasm? In that time, she’d long lost track of the dozens of times she’d swallowed the hot, salty seed he’d deposited on her tongue, sprayed across her lips, the cooling, sticky ropes of semen he’d gruffly ordered her to lick from the softness of her breasts.
She knew that eventually he would allow her an orgasm — maybe — if only she obeyed. If only she made him happy and proved to him she deserved one.
He’d never said any of that, of course, but the meaning of his treatment of her was clear. The implication that as long as she obeyed him, that as long as she made him happy and showed that she was trying, then he would reward her. That she was trying to be worthy meant that — someday, she hoped — he would take mercy on her, and give her that long-denied release.
You know how fucked up that is, Rose? You understand that, don’t you?
She did know, but as she’d now come to accept, fucked up and wrong simply didn’t matter in this place.
Only he did.
Chapter 21
His pretty little captive squinted, her eyes blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the light, her lovely long lashes rendered almost blonde in the brilliant afternoon. Her flawless, pale skin and striking spray of freckles seeming to grow pink almost instantly under the strong sun. It was a look he found most fetching indeed. She knelt in the same field the autonav had brought his air car down onto, a gently rolling sea of emerald, the blades of grass gently swaying to the playful whim of the cool afternoon breeze. The view was stunning.
At their backs to the east was an escarpment, one so high and craggy it still had snow atop its highest spire. To the west was the azure stretch of the sparkling Rylantyr Sea. The place they’d landed was not on any map. Flying craft passing over it would see nothing but grass, a few copses of trees, bushes, splashes of color here and there, nothing more remarkable than a coastal meadow.
But this was anything but a normal field.
His first clue had been when, upon approaching the coast, the autonav had switched on and had refused any attempt he’d made to switch it back to manual. He’d been warned of this, of course, but it was still disconcerting. Every screen in the air car went blank as if he’d lost all power. Even his onboard transponder had cut out, something that wasn’t supposed to happen to any vehicle, barring its destruction. But the autonav had worked flawlessly, linking up with what he assumed must have been a considerably powerful transmitter somewhere on that property.
And the only way he knew of this property was because of the simple message he’d found the day before.
He’d put the null disc into the private network once more, curious as to what he’d find. It
had become a more or less daily habit. At first, he’d been disappointed, for there appeared to be no change — until he’d looked at the messaging system and seen the blinking icon. A waiting message. What he’d found there was two simple bits of information: the coordinates for this amazing place, and a single, simple word — “Enjoy.”
Unsure what to make of the message, he’d plugged in the coordinates to his general navigation console and they’d come back as … nothing. No settlement. Not even a landing pad. Nothing.
Still, he’d put it into his air car’s computer and trusted the members of the network not to let him down. Fortunately, his trust turned out to be well-founded.
Now, as he stood there in the cool afternoon breeze, the slight smell of the salt on the air, he watched his little human captive as she took in the beauty of their surroundings, her nostrils flaring as she drew the first breath of fresh air she’d had in much too long. She glanced up at him, an uncertainty in her eyes, and he’d given her a gentle nod, unclipping the leash from her collar. She was clad still in only her paws and the leg braces, though he’d had additional pieces manufactured for the tops of her feet, noting how red they’d become as she’d been led on her lead back and forth across his hard floor. Now, she was protected, though the items didn’t protect her body from his avaricious view. And what a view it was.
It took his breath away to watch her venture out into that grass, the round, pale bottom moving as she crawled. He wondered if the rolling of her hips was a sly way of enticing him, or if that was simply how a young human woman moved. Regardless, it was beautiful and erotic, and his cock was already at attention at the sight. He thought he might mount her right there, give her the fucking he knew was increasingly on her mind every waking moment. For it was certainly on his mind every waking moment.
But he had to wait. It wasn’t quite time for that. There was one more hurdle to jump, one more transformation he wanted from his lovely human pet.
He followed her at a distance, confident she would never actually attempt to flee. She was much too deep now. Despite that confidence, he had, of course, installed a hobble, a thin length of chain between each leg and each paw. The chains were light enough to do nothing to impede her ability to crawl, but more than strong enough to utterly prevent her from standing. If she couldn’t stand, she couldn’t run. And besides, he quite liked the vision of her swollen, heavy breasts swaying below her, her freckled cheeks dusted with pink, her eyes looking back at him every now and then, sparkling in the sun, the same color blue as the sea – only much more beautiful.
Finally, he strode to her side, clipping the leash to her collar once more. Her fetchingly familiar blush flooded her cheeks as she looked up at him. She froze, uncertain what he expected of her, but he simply gave her leash a light tug. In his mind, he’d already called the place The Game Preserve as if it were some sort of special plot of land set aside to enjoy the exotic – or in his case – the illegal, the illicit. Regardless, it fit. And the fact that no one knew it existed save for a select few, that elite group who had access to the same private network. Oh, that only made it better.
Off to his left, perhaps two hundred yards away, was a slight rise to a promontory, high enough to allow him an even more dramatic view of the ocean. Scattered about its base, and creeping up the side to a small grove at the pinnacle were clusters of trees, the gorgeous turquoise hues of dinhal trees, flowers of brilliant yellows, red, deep oranges, the sweet scent of them on the air mixing with the ever-present note of salt, the clean, primal scent of the ocean.
He found a trail that led up to the summit of the promontory, oddly well trod. Still, the grass there was soft enough for her to travel with him. By the time he brought her to the top, she was breathing hard, but not yet panting. In truth, he was breathing harder than she was. Her physical fitness was now honed to that of an elite athlete — or an exactingly trained pet. She was one and the same now, only her athletic skills also involved pleasing him.
There was a felled log at the top of the promontory, a perfect spot to sit, to look at the breathtaking view, the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks below just audible, the lilting cry of birds now and then accompanying the muted hiss and gurgling rumble of the waves. He did not know how long he sat there soaking in the sun. He’d bade Rose kneel at his knee, and for a time, she rested her head against his thigh as he idly stroked his fingers through the striking and irresistible wavy red hair. He knew he would never tire of those gorgeous locks, the color so unlike anything upon his planet, a beauty and vulnerability and preciousness to it that he didn’t know how to describe. All he knew was that he was profoundly glad that it was — like every other atom of her being — his.
That morning, before they had left, he’d fed and watered her, making her drink especially heartily from her bowl. She’d seemed mildly confused by it — it was a change in routine after all — and she’d become used to a very exacting pattern, down to how she ate and how much she ate. But she accepted it. Of course, she had no choice but to accept it. But there was a reason for it.
Now, as they sat there watching the surf, the angle of the afternoon sun beginning to lengthen, she looked up at him. There was uncertainty, trepidation in those lovely blue eyes. He ignored it, simply smiling at her, stroking her hair. Long minutes went by and then she looked at him again, her eyes wider, an adorable little furrow developing in the middle of her freckled forehead. Still, he ignored her.
In truth, her mitts and her leg braces weren’t the only accoutrement he’d adorned her with when taking her on this little lovely field trip. She gazed up at him again, and this time her mouth was actually trying to say something – even though she knew she would be punished for it. But the straps wrapping her jaw tight prevented her from doing so. It was the first time he’d used the muzzle on her, and in truth, he wasn’t certain what he thought of the look. But as he looked upon her now, twin straps framing those now haunted blue eyes, another broad, horizontal strap linking them across her forehead just above her brow, he decided the muzzle was a very good choice indeed.
Completely immobilizing her jaw, all she was allowed was essentially verbalizing through her gritted teeth as much as she dared — or as much as he would allow. Today, he would allow very little indeed. Today was about bringing her to that final step, to making her what he’d always wanted her to be, and wringing from her another surrender, the last vestige of what she thought of herself, of what she saw as herself, the last vestige of being a human.
After today, she would know, and think, and understand that she really was an animal – his animal, his beloved pet. Rose, his pet human.
Finally, she could resist no longer, giving in to the unbearable urgency. She turned to him then, actually bumping his knee with her head, her eyes wide with fear, and something else that had his heart fluttering and his cock aching.
Humiliation.
For now she knew. Now she understood.
Rather than reprimand her immediately, he slipped off the log, then crouched before her. With a click of his fingers, she knelt up, arms clasped behind her back, eyes forward. Her entire body trembled. The pretty curls at her sex seemed to almost glow, silky with her sweat, darkened from that wispy golden red to the sienna he so loved. He stroked his fingertips through those curls, and she flinched. Then he smoothed a palm over her belly, patting her mons as one might sooth a pet that didn’t quite understand what was happening. Oh, but Rose understood.
Her eyes flashed, this time real alarm there colored with perhaps a tinge of defiance too. Ah, how it thrilled to see it. He loved the fight, the resistance, the fact that she would never give in, that she would always struggle against his demands. Even if her body wanted something entirely different. Even if in her mind she had accepted that she would give in, that she would surrender.
Twirling a lock of her pubic hair around his finger, he gave it a gentle tug and she whimpered. Then he pressed two fingers upon either side of her lower belly, pressing firmly
, deeply, and she actually yelped despite her muzzle. He gave her a slow shake of his head, an exaggerated look of disapproval. Her body shuddered as she saw it. They both knew he would punish her for that outburst, muzzled or not.
But it wasn’t quite time for that yet. No, now it was time for Kosha to get what he came here for. He pressed her lower belly again, and her body flinched away for just a fraction of a second, before quickly returning to position.
She’d be punished for that too, though it was but a small infraction.
He leaned in closer, until his entire world was those gorgeous, now welling blue eyes. He locked his gaze with hers and then looked slowly over to the uppermost tree on the promontory, just to their right. He met her gaze again, then looked at the tree once more.
Her brow quirked, one eyebrow lifting as she glanced from that tree, back to him, then to the tree once more. Then her eyes snapped to his, the realization clear in those liquid depths. He gave her a solemn nod. Instantly, scarlet flushed up her neck, suffusing her entire face, the red even staining the upper swells of her breasts. Her trembling increased and her eyes appeared to be but a moment from brimming over with tears.
Though he found those tears indescribably beautiful, he would not let them sway him from his mission. Not today. He would enjoy them, yes. They would increase his arousal, most certainly. But they would not stop him from what he required of his Rose.
Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at the tree. She had the temerity to actually shake her head, turning away, and he took hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him. He gave her cheek a gentle slap. It was too light to really hurt, at least physically. It was a simple rebuke, a humiliating reminder that she was letting him down, that she was disobeying her owner.