Human Animals
Page 19
"Can I at least have a hint?" I ask panting as Michael approaches again.
“Too deep,” he replies, and I immediately take his meaning. The key isn't here. "If you want any more hints, you better show me that you can be grateful girl."
Although it stings my ego, I bow my head down, and I say, "Thank you.”
Just as I start to crawl away again, Michael makes sure to pat me on the head. I hate that gesture, but I don't resist. I don't try to shake him off, nor do I snap my teeth at him. Oh, it would feel so good to bite him, but I'm not going to make any mistake like that.
"Just a few more minutes," he taunts.
Scampering forward, I crawl along as fast as I can. It feels so strange, taking the perspective of a dog. The world seems bigger because I'm so much lower. But then I see another spot that might work. Is this another trick? Did Michael come out here and mess with certain spots, hoping to confuse me?
It seems likely.
Quivering with frustration, I crawl around some more, hoping, searching…
At the same time, some small whisper of doubt at the back of my mind insists that this is all a trick. There is no key. I'm wasting my time. Those thoughts make my eyes water. I've already made a fool of myself. Worse than that, I can feel the collar around my neck. No matter what, I'm stuck here.
But do I have to play his game? Do I have to amuse him?
"You're getting warmer," he tells me.
I glance back at Michael, my face taut with frustration. Even so, he just laughs at me. As far as he's concerned, I'm nothing but an adorable little puppy girl. I'm here for his amusement, after all. I'm the one who's digging holes. I'm the one who is naked.
He strolls up to me, and he looks around. His eyes seem to linger on one particular spot before moving on. Was that intentional? Is he messing with me? I keep second-guessing myself. In my normal life, I'm always so confident. Making a decision is easy, but not here.
"Just a few more minutes," he tells me. "Probably just enough time for one hole.”
Ignoring caution, I pick another spot. I bow my body down, and I start digging furiously, scraping and swiping my paws against the ground. The seconds tick by, my heart pounds, and the exhaustion of working starts to eat away at my strength.
The sweat runs down my body. I know I'm filthy. There is dust all over my skin, but I don't care. I have to keep going. I have to do this. I know I can.
I continue to dig until I feel something square and plastic against the tips of my paws.
This is it. This has to be it!
"Just a few more seconds," Michael tells me, and I know that I have to continue.
Then I see it, just a hint of plastic. This has to be the controller, but it's still mostly buried. I move my limbs as fast as I can, pouring all of my remaining strength into my body.
Come on…come on!
"Just a few more seconds. Just a couple more," he reminds me. Sweat trickles down my brow, getting into my eyes. It stings, but I don't even care. I have to do this. I don't see any other choice. I know I can.
Then he pulls on my collar, tugging my leash.
"No!" I cry out.
"Sorry, Princess. Your time is up. You had your chance. But you couldn't do it, could you? No, you couldn't."
Pressing my limbs against the ground, I attempt to crawl back, but one swift yank on my leash cuts off my air supply. My eyes are burning with tears once again. I can feel that pinching at the corners of my eyes. I want to cry. I want to throw a tantrum and force him to let me dig for a little bit longer. But then Michael crouches down in front of me. He touches his fingers to my chin.
"Princess, I know that you're a spoiled little bitch, but that doesn't matter here. I'm your Master right now, and I've decided that we're going back inside."
"No! I found it! You can't do this!"
"Sit, girl," he says.
Immediately, the implant within me registers his command, and so the strength evaporators from my body. I collapse onto my stomach. The little rocks and bits of gravel scrape against my skin, but I'm staring ahead anyway.
Michael walks back to my hole. He smirks at me for a moment before he starts to kick the dirt back into the hole. It took me long minutes to dig it, but he fills it in a quarter of the time.
"No! That's not fair! You can't do this!" I sob, panting.
"Let's get you cleaned up," he says, pulling on my leash.
Before I know it, I’m mechanically crawling after this man. Feeling defeated, I only stop when he puts his hand on my shoulder. My head is down, my eyes are closed, and I have no idea what he has planned for me next. I'm probably not going to like it.
A blast of cold water shoots out, splashing all over my face, head, shoulders, and back. There is a hose out here, and now he's using it to clean me off. He's washing me down like a dog. Before, I was in the bathtub with hot water. Now, this icy liquid dances along my skin, making me shiver. Goose bumps appear along my limbs. My nipples harden, and I bring my limbs together to hide a modicum of warmth from those cold jets.
It doesn't work.
Michael strolls around me, shooting me from every angle. He gets the water along my ass, over the pads of my feet, behind my knees—everywhere. "Would you like to go inside? Would you like the chance to sit by the fire while I catch up on some work?"
Little droplets run down my naked form. They trickle along my breasts, down my hips and thighs.
"Yes."
"Ask like a dog."
“Arf-arf!”
This shouldn’t feel like heaven, but it does. This shouldn't feel like a reward, but it does. If you told me a month ago that I would end up as a human puppy, curled up on the carpet in front of a fireplace, I would've laughed. No, actually, I would've slapped you and told you that you are insane.
And yet, here I am, a little ball of puppy enjoying the waves of heat that emanate from the flames. I can't believe that his condo actually has a fireplace, but here I am, and Michael is sitting just a foot or two away from me. He has his tablet out, and he's playing a game or answering e-mails or something.
Occasionally, he rubs his foot over my back. He has on a sock, and it actually feels kind of good.
"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Michael asks.
I don't respond.
"Unless you want me to put you outside, you're going to answer."
"Arf…arf…” I reply.
I don't sound terribly happy about my position, but maybe that's half the fun for Michael. He chuckles again, enjoying my position, and he goes back to his work.
Closing my eyes, I place my chin on the back of my paws. What's wrong with me? Why am I enjoying this?
Actually, the answer to that question is simple. I'm enjoying this because I am so cold. The heat feels delicious as it soaks back into my body.
As I relax into the darkness of my eyelids, I listen to the sounds of the fire. It pops and crackles occasionally. Every once in a while, Michael will get up, and he'll toss another log onto the flames.
"Are you happy girl?" Michael asks, reaching down and stroking the back of my neck. In those moments, I don't answer, but then he starts to rub my puppy ears, and it feels like the tension just melts away. Despite all the humiliation and the many indignities, I don't care.
I'm enjoying this. It feels so good. I want more. I need more.
But then he gets back up and he takes his seat. He gets to sit down because he's the human. I'm down here on the floor because I'm an animal.
Just a few days ago, I could've gone into any boutique in the city, and I could have purchased any item I wanted. I could wear the best clothes, and now I only have on one garment, a collar.
Well, I'm wearing three garments if you count the stupid mitts. But those are just infuriating because they make my hands impossible to use.
"Did you enjoy running around and digging in the field?"
"No," I replied.
"Okay," he says. "Then I will never ask you to do that again."
Getting back up onto my hands and knees, I crawl toward him. "No, please. I want to dig again. Please, can't have another chance to dig? I know I can find the key if you give me another chance!"
"Put your chin on my lap."
Something inside of me clenches, but I don't see any other alternative. I crawl forward some more, and I place my chin on his lap. I must really look like a pathetic little doggie girl, prone and eager for a petting.
Predictably, he runs his fingers through my hair. "Are you willing to be a good girl? Are you willing to earn another game out in the field?"
My face turns red. My heart starts to beat more quickly, and I hate this. I hate the shame and humiliation and embarrassment even as those feelings course along my body.
He strokes me, and that feels good, but he's teasing me all the while. Is this what's going to happen? If I remain his dog, is he going to play with freeing me one day, taunting me over and over again?
I can't take it.
At least, that's what I tell myself, only I’m tilting my head to the side, making it easier for him to pet my puppy ears. And when he starts to do that, granting me that small boon, I actually whimper with pleasure.
"There is my good little puppy girl."
"I'll be a good girl."
"Really? Do you know how the girls ask for things?"
"They beg?" I ask in a very small voice. In fact, it's so small that I'm not even sure he can hear me.
"That sounds like a good idea." He answers me with the mock enthusiasm of a dog owner who wants to see his girl do another trick. That's me. I'm his girl, so I press my lips together, and I exhale through my nostrils. I hate doing this, but I don't see any other choice.
Climbing back up onto my haunches, I let my wrists go slack. I tilt my head to the side, and I whimper.
I'm begging. Begging like a dog.
This is so pathetic, but maybe he will give me what I crave.
He does. He starts running his hands all over my body. He pats me, stroking me and caressing me. I savor every little touch. I revel in his attentions. Even though I know I'm supposed to be better than this, I can’t work myself up to think like a human woman. Now, here I'm just a dog.
"Get up on the furniture," he commands.
I'm dry now, clean too. Practically panting, I enjoy a jolt of excitement which runs through me. I crawl up onto the couch, and then I get on his lap.
"Such a good girl."
He takes out the remote control for the TV, then he starts petting me again. Damn it. How did I get myself into this position? More importantly, why can't I focus on my anger? I should be upset. I should be wiggling and writhing for the chance to earn my freedom.
Instead, I relax. Nice and calm, I surrender to the deliciousness of his hands sliding over my body.
At some point, I fall asleep. It's so easy, simply letting go.
That doesn’t mean my brain isn't active. I'm dreaming. Maybe, somewhere, in some small corner of my psyche, I know that this isn't real. I know that when I picture myself curled up in front of the window, looking out onto a quiet suburban street, it's just a dream.
Maybe. Perhaps.
But really, I see myself curled up. I'm on the carpet, and I have my chin resting on the backs of my paws. I'm a happy little dog. Yeah, I know I could go outside. There is a doggie door leading to the back yard, but I've already explored all those spaces. Maybe I could chase squirrels. Yeah, that could be entertaining.
Instead, I remain right there near the window. With just one eye open, I watch as a car goes by. That's the most stimulating thing to happen for several minutes.
It's starting to get darker, it's kind of cold outside, so I'm not going to bother. There probably won't be any squirrels outside anyway.
Am I thirsty? I could go to the kitchen and lap up some water from my dog bowl.
Nah.
But then, a car pulls up in the driveway, and I recognize it immediately. Hoping to win some pets, I immediately jump back up onto my hands and knees. I scamper through the house, snatching two items from his bedroom.
Master is home! Master will take care of me! Master will pet me, he will play with me. Maybe he will throw a ball and I will get chase it. Maybe he will simply order me down onto my haunches so that I will be able to spread my legs for him. Oh, I get wet just at the thought of knowing he might mount me.
In any case, I need to please him, so I carry my payload back to the front door.
My face is flushed from the exertion of crawling around so quickly. But I'm here, and I'm wagging, wiggling my hips from left to right and back again.
I hear the key in the door, and I practically jump up and down, wishing that I could help Master with the doorknob. Of course, my fingers remain trapped in my paw-mitts, so I must wait patiently.
Finally, the door opens!
I bound forward, and I'm up on my knees. I rub my nose against Master’s crotch. I growl appreciatively when he starts to harden. But more importantly, he puts his hand on the back of my neck. "Down, girl," he commands.
Obediently, I drop down onto my haunches once again. I won't disappoint Master. He owns me, so I have to be a good girl for him. I know this. This is the most important fact in my life.
Master crouches down and looks into my eyes. "What do you have there, girl? What do you have in your mouth?"
Oh, right! He takes the slippers from my teeth, and he smiles at me. He pats me on the head, and he kicks off his shoes. He puts on the slippers, and I wag my hips from side to side, so excited that I've been able to serve this man.
Master walks back through the house to the living room. He sits down, and he is about to put his feet up on the cushions. Instead, I start whimpering. I get up on my haunches, and I beg for attention.
As he puts his feet back down, he rests them on my back. This is where I belong, warming him, making him happy.
"There is my good girl," he says.
…Those are the most important words a dog like me can hear.
When I finally wake up, there is no surge of adrenaline. I'm not covered in sweat, and the dream did not feel like a nightmare. As much as I hate to think it, I actually enjoyed it. I enjoyed knowing my place.
Master.
That's a word I don't think about very often. It's a word I pretty much never use.
Swallowing, I get back up, and I look around. I try to use my hands, disappointed to realize that they are still locked away under those leather pads. Frustration nips of the back of my mind.
Where am I?
What's going on?
When I swallow, I still feel the collar around my neck, but there isn't a leash. Also, there's something else. I'm near the floor, but I'm not on it exactly. I'm curled up in some kind of tiny bed.
It's a dog bed.
Silent, I listen, trying to pick out any detail that might help me. It's dark outside. I can see the windows are black. More importantly, where's Michael? I'm apparently in a bedroom. I'm in a dog bed, but there is no Michael there.
Exhaling, I crawl out of my doggie bed, and I look around, trying to peer through the gloom to find any traps. For the first time, I'm alone without being trapped in a cage.
Pressing my lips together, I'm tempted to actually curl up in the little bed again and just go to sleep.
Or maybe I should try something else. Maybe this will be my opportunity.
Then it occurs to me. Michael actually thinks that he has won. He truly believes that I'm going to be an obedient canine from this point forward. That's why he has assumed he can leave me alone.
Oh, I'm going to show him just how wrong he is. I'm going to get my revenge. It's going to be so sweet, so incredibly vicious.
Before I allow myself to get lost in those fantasies, I crawl forward, wonderi
ng if it will all be for nothing. If this door is locked, then I might be well and truly screwed.
Swallowing, I try to ignore the tension in my shoulders. I can do this. I don't have to be afraid. I'm not a coward. I'm not some girly girl.
Pressing my paws against the doorknob, I twist my elbows at the same angle, and the door starts to open. I push, and then I'm looking out into a narrow hallway.
If I cross this threshold, I know that Michael will be disappointed in me. He will think that I've been a naughty girl. He will decide that I need to be punished.
What could be worse for a little puppy than trying to escape?
I can't let my fears get a hold of me. I can't just give up and embrace that dream. I'm not a dog! And I never will be.
Holding onto those thoughts, I crawl forward. There is only one benefit to being down on all fours. I'm a lot quieter this way. Moving slowly, I make my way back out toward his living room.
"I assure you, she is making excellent progress. You don't need to be here. You don't need to see her." That is Michael's voice. But who is he talking to?
I hear a girl answer him, but I can't pick out her words. Either she is speaking quietly, or it's just the pounding of my heart beat that keeps me from hearing her. I creep forward a little bit more.
"Truthfully, when you showed me her file, I never imagined that a girl like this could be trained. But because you’ve given me the resources necessary to get the implant built and installed, she is doing very well. In a couple of months, I don't think she will think of herself as anything but a dog."
They're talking about me.
I stick my head out, and I see Michael. I also spot the girl he's talking to, but she is turned away from me. There's something familiar about her, but I can't name it.
"Can I ask, what are you going to do with her when she’s completely trained?"
"Why?" asks the girl. Are you hoping that you're going to get to keep her?"
Something inside of me turns to ice. Cold runs up and down my arms and legs. Part of me wants to deny the truth, yet I can't. No. No way. But it's true. She's sitting right there! She's sitting right there, that sounds like she already knows exactly what's happening!