The House Book One: Pet Lucy

by Madison Barry

  “Let’s try the bigger plug,” he said.

  “Wait, Sir?” I risked punishment, but I needed to understand.

  “Yes, Pet?”

  “What did you mean by let go, Sir?”

  “Sweet Pet, you have to stop fighting it.” He cut off that discussion by returning to my ass and working the plug free.

  Stop fighting it. Stop fighting what? It was like failing at something everyone else could do without a second thought. Orgasm wasn’t supposed to be rocket science!

  Lustful Guy inserted the tip of the next plug just until I resisted, then waited there. A whimper sounded in my throat. After a moment, he pushed it farther in, stretching me wider than the previous plug had. “Almost there, Pet,” he said. I bit my lip, trying and failing to forget the pain from last time. I shuddered as the widest part was forced through, screamed, then relaxed. A mild, persistent ache made me curl my toes and moan, but it wasn’t as bad as before.

  “Don’t hold your breath, Pet,” he said. I felt his hand on my back, heard him lower his zipper, then both hands were on my hips. He eased his penis into me. He seemed to be smaller than the Teacher as well, but with the added fullness of the plug, he felt plenty big. “I just want you to stay with me, Pet. You don’t have to do anything else. Just stay here.” He withdrew, then entered again, a little faster.

  Just stay here. I made myself focus on the friction of his cock against my inner walls, squeezed the butt plug. He kept a measured pace, pumping neither too hard nor too fast. At first, I didn’t feel much of anything, but I gradually became aware of my pussy growing more sensitive, the pulsing of my heart in my clit and in my ass against the plug, everything building on a long, slow curve, moving up toward something, a goal, or a prize.

  “You feel so good, Pet,” he said. “Are you still here?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whispered. This wasn’t the insistent, overwhelming sensation of the vibrator, or the quick buildup he’d created before with his fingers. This was more like sitting outside on a mild day, warming in the sun and becoming more languid and content as time wore on.

  Lustful Guy suddenly picked up speed and came before I was quite ready to stop my ascent to wherever I was going. I’d been in that place once before, when Zach had fucked me that last time. I wanted to stay there, but when Lustful Guy withdrew, the butt plug alone wasn’t enough to keep me suspended in that blissful space. I plunged downward, but he didn’t give me time to recover.

  He released me from the restraints. “Very good, Pet. I’ll recommend that you get coffee tomorrow, if you want. It’ll be up to your master this evening whether to put that through to the kitchen, but I’m very proud of you. Would you like that?”

  Coffee! “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Stand at Rest, Pet. Let’s move on.” I stood up, but I had to lean against the sawhorse for a moment until I could make my legs work. Lustful Guy either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. “Part of your duties will be to clean any apparatus we use once we’re done with it. Now that we’ve finished with the Horse—that’s this one, obviously—you need to clean and sanitize it, since it has our fluids on it. In the cabinet over there, there are cleaning supplies. Bring the spray bottle and paper towels and clean the Horse now, Pet.”

  Clean the Horse. It took me a split second to process his instructions, since they came so out of the blue. They forced me to use this equipment, and then I had to clean it? I went to the cabinet he’d indicated and found the supplies. I cleaned the Horse, and then he directed me to clean the big X, which he called the Cross, as well as the insides of the leather cuffs.

  “You’ll also clean any toys you use, including the butt plugs,” he said, after inspecting my work. “You’ll use the sink in the bathroom across the hall for that. There’s sanitizing solution specifically for use with the toys there.”

  That made me feel more like a slave than almost anything else they’d had me do!

  “Okay, Pet, let’s get that butt plug out.” He led me to a table with a padded edge just about at waist height. “Flogging Pose, Pet.”

  He just wanted me to bend over, obviously, but he’d used the pose name to see if I’d do it anyway, not knowing whether he was going to flog me. I suppressed a smile and bent over in the proper pose. He chuckled.

  “This is called the Flogging Table, Pet, for future reference. But right now, I’ll just take out your butt plug. Exhale and push out.”

  I took a breath and did as he described. The plug popped free when he tugged on it.

  “Now, you’ll take both plugs over to the bathroom. Wash them in warm water with the sanitizer and then bring them back.” He handed it to me, and I retrieved the other from the floor beside the Horse.

  I crossed the hall back to the bathroom and looked longingly at the big bathtub. Coffee would be great, but I wouldn't complain about another soak in that tub. A cupboard above the sink contained the toy cleaner, and I washed both plugs. I wondered what they could possibly have me do for four hours this evening.

  I returned to Lustful Guy, who took me upstairs to my room. “I’ll be leaving you now. Here’s your schedule for the next six hours.” He handed me a sheet of paper. “I’ve enjoyed you very much, Pet. I look forward to our next meeting.” He kissed me on the forehead and shut my door. I heard him set the hook-and-eye lock.

  I scanned my “schedule.” I was to clean my bathroom top to bottom: sink, shower, toilet, even scrub the floor. I would find cleaning supplies under my sink, it said. A boxed lunch sat on my dresser. I had to eat at exactly noon. I had to learn five poses—well, four more, since Lustful Guy had taught me Praying already. I also had to change my sheets and remake my bed. The schedule noted specifically that if my bed was not made to their standards, I would be punished.

  This sucked!

  Not that I had anything better to do.

  Finally, once I’d completed all other tasks, they’d left me a blank book and a pen. I was instructed to write about what I’d done here so far, my feelings, activities, any questions I had, thoughts, revelations. There were a few specific questions to answer. “We will read your journal to ensure compliance,” it said.

  No privacy, even in my own head.

  That would probably fill all six hours, but if it didn’t, I was permitted to learn additional poses and/or review all twenty as many times as I felt was necessary. I could take a nap or lie down and rest for up to thirty minutes if I was so inclined and had time, but I was not required to.

  I went into the bathroom and got started.

  * * *

  Sunday, March 22, 2009, 9:24 p.m.

  6.5 years ago

  “Is that your third or fourth margarita?” Zach asked.

  “I think third,” I replied, slurring just a little. “But they’re pouring them strong.”

  “Either way, it sounds like you’ve had more than enough. Let’s get you home.” He wasn’t exactly sober, but he was more lucid than me. He guided me out of the bar. He lived just a short walk away, not enough time for me to sober up even a little, but neither of us was sober enough to drive back to my place. Which was fine with me. I followed him to his door and stumbled into his living room. He caught my arm. “Lucy, slow down,” he said. He pulled me close and kissed me. “How drunk are you?” he asked. “You sure smell drunk.”

  “Not that drunk,” I lied. I was completely smashed.

  “So… you want to go to the bedroom?”

  “I dunno. Maaaybe.” Yep, I was hammered. It had been four margaritas.

  He sighed. “Do you even like me?” he asked.

  “Sure I do.”

  “Then can we finally, you know, make this happen?” He kissed the side of my neck, right where it met my shoulder, and a shiver ran through me.

  “Make what happen?” Oh, sex. Right. Fuck, I was really drunk. Could it have been five drinks? Surely not.

  “Jesus, Lucy!” Then his lips were rough against mine, hands roving up my shirt and into my bra. I grabbed his shoulders for bala
nce and grunted when he pinched my nipple hard enough to hurt. A gush of moisture from my pussy surprised me. Fuck, I was turned on!

  He lifted my shirt and unhooked my bra, unbuttoned my jeans, then went back to kissing me. I held on for dear life, almost giddy. I’d never been with someone so… forceful. He’d never been so forceful before! So why now? Because he was drunk, or because I was? Or both?

  He shoved me down over the arm of the couch and yanked my pants down to mid-thigh. I was still reorienting to being facedown in the cushions as he rammed his cock into me.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, Lucy.”

  “Oh, my God, Zach, what are you doing?” I cried. He pulled out and thrust again, one hand on the back of my neck, holding me down.

  “Not giving you a chance to think about it,” he said.

  My eyes rolled back in my head, and I rose up on my toes, pushing back toward him. He let go of my neck and held my hips instead, then slipped one hand around to flick my clit.

  “Oh fuck, it’s working,” I gasped.

  He slowed, rested his hand on my lower back. “Okay?” he asked.

  “God, yes,” I said, then dissolved into incoherent moaning as the friction of his dick and the movement of his finger drove me right up to the edge of… something. I dangled off the cliff, stuck in a perfect moment, holding my breath. “Fuck,” I breathed. I’d never been in this place before, and I never wanted it to end.

  Zach thrust one more time, was still for a moment, then came, bent over me and breathing hard. He supported himself on his hands to either side of my body and kissed my shoulder. “That was amazing,” he panted.

  I was still waiting to come down from wherever I was. My knees buckled, and Zach wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his body. “Wow,” I breathed.

  “I shouldn't have done that.” He helped me fix my pants and then sat on the couch with me. “I should have asked you first.”

  He should have, but if he had, I might not have been able to say yes. “No one’s ever done that before,” I said after a moment. How could I admit I’d liked being forced, though? Not really forced… I hadn’t so much as tried to refuse. I had wanted it.

  “Are you okay?”

  “So okay,” I answered. I rested my head against his shoulder.

  * * *

  Monday, November 9, 2015, 5:00 p.m.

  Day 3

  I was Kneeling at Rest on my rug exactly at 5:00 that evening. My bathroom sparkled, my bed would have passed a drill sergeant’s inspection, I’d learned five new poses, and I’d journaled extensively, filling page after page until my fingers cramped up. Once I’d gotten started, it had just poured out of me.

  The door opened. It was Blue Eyes. “Good evening, Pet,” he said. He didn’t say anything at first, just went into my bathroom, came back and lifted the covers on my bed to see that I’d changed the sheets and remade it, noted the pile of dirty sheets in the corner where I’d been told to leave them. He picked up the journal and paged through it, scanning but obviously not reading in depth. “Excellent, Pet. I’m pleased,” he said. Where Lustful Guy’s approach was casual and friendly, one adult talking to another, like a boss to an employee maybe, Blue Eyes’ attitude was more like an owner to a beloved horse or dog, affectionate but definitely above me. I waited.

  “Your master from this morning indicated good work as well, in general. We will continue your anal training tonight, of course, and begin oral training as well. You will also serve dinner to me and one other master who will be here tonight with his pet.”

  One other master? Someone other than the six I’d met? Still no instructions. I was itching to ask questions, but I wouldn't dare speak out of turn with Blue Eyes.

  “This pet has been with her master for nearly six months,” he continued. “She earned a severe punishment, which will include spending 24 hours back at the House. Her master is quite unhappy.” I wondered what she did. I didn’t quite understand what Blue Eyes was talking about. “Come, Pet. We’ll put in the size 3 butt plug. You’ll wear it through dinner. Would you like a tail?”

  That was a direct question, but I had no idea what it meant. “A tail, Sir?”

  He peered at my backside. “Yes, I think a tail would suit you nicely. Ears, too?”

  “This Pet doesn’t understand, Sir.”

  He chuckled. “Come, Pet,” he said. I heeled him downstairs to what I’d learned was called the Training Room. That sounded better than “torture chamber,” but I still thought of it that way in my head. “First, you’ll demonstrate your new poses. How many did you learn?”

  “Six, Sir.”

  “Show me.”

  I started with Praying, then moved to one that I thought of as similar to the Table Pose, but was actually a variant of Flogging Pose, called Flogging Pose Kneeling. It was essentially the Table Pose, but resting on elbows instead of hands, which put the butt up higher than the head.

  “Not quite right, Pet,” Blue Eyes said. “Your forehead should be nearly touching the floor, and your ass should be higher.”

  I made the adjustment and grimaced, glad he couldn't see my face.

  “Hold it for a moment. Get used to the feel of it. You’ve been practicing it incorrectly.”

  Well, how was I supposed to know? All I had was a description and a photo to go by.

  “Good. Go on.”

  The next was Spread-Eagle Facedown, which was pretty obvious. I lay on my stomach on the floor, arms and legs outstretched in an X shape and face turned toward my right, like in Prone. I assumed this would be used to tie me to a bed or something.

  “Good.”

  I then rolled over to Spread-Eagle Face-up, which was basically the same thing, except lying on my back with my eyes to the ceiling. At least those were pretty hard to screw up. Blue Eyes didn’t comment. Two to go. Embarrassment bubbled up inside me. I felt ridiculous. But I suppressed it. Let go. Let go.

  Next was At Ease, which was just like in the military, standing with feet shoulder-width apart, with my hands behind my back. I wasn’t sure what this was for, since it seemed to serve the same purpose as Standing at Rest. And, finally, Collaring Pose. I didn’t understand the name, but it was easy enough. Kneeling with knees parted, hands behind the back with wrists crossed in the small of the back, chin pointed slightly upward.

  Blue Eyes grunted. “Interesting choice, Pet. And very nice. You’ll learn the final nine over the next two days, and we’ll test you on the full set on Thursday. Flogging Pose at the Flogging Table now, Pet.”

  I bent over the table, hoping he was just using the position to insert the butt plug. Blue Eyes moved around me, using cuffs to secure my wrists and ankles to the table. I lifted my head, trying to watch, wondering what was going on.

  “Head down, Pet.” Once I was restrained, he left me there, apparently to collect a few things, then returned. “You’ll be punished for learning Flogging Pose Kneeling incorrectly and for failing to report that one of your poses was in fact taught to you last night by another master. You claimed you learned six today, Pet, but you learned only five.”

  How could he know that? The journal. He hadn’t read it in detail, but apparently he’d seen that bit. It wasn’t an intentional lie, though. He asked how many I’d learned, and the answer was six! Maybe Blue Eyes was another master who enjoyed inflicting pain just for the hell of it. Or maybe they wanted me to understand that I could neither predict when I would be punished nor if I’d earned a punishment. I wanted to protest, argue, defend myself, but I knew it was pointless.

  I would never be perfect. They would always find something I’d done wrong, an oversight, an unintentional omission, a minute too long or too short here or there, or other nitpicky things. Would I find myself bent over and whipped twice a day because perfection was impossible? That hardly seemed fair.

  You’re a slave, I reminded myself. And while they’d promised to take care of me, and not to cause any permanent harm, they had not promised to be fair.


  Blue Eyes kissed me on the cheek and massaged my lower back. “I’ll let you choose, Pet. I understand you were caned this morning. Do you prefer five with the cane or fifteen with the flogger?”

  Choose? I didn’t want to choose! Neither! I wanted neither! I remembered the searing pain of the cane and was certain I couldn't withstand that again, not with so much more to come tonight. “This Pet chooses the flogger, Sir,” I said, too quietly.

  “I didn’t hear that, Pet,” he said. I was certain he had.

  I cleared my throat. “The flogger, Sir,” I said, a bit more clearly.

  “You will count, Pet.”

  Of course I would.

  Either I was becoming used to being flogged or he wasn’t hitting me very hard, because this fifteen was a breeze compared to the previous ones I’d had. It hurt, and more than one number was screamed out in the midst of a cry of pain, but I found I was energized afterward, every sense heightened, heart pounding, sweating, and anticipating… something.

  Blue Eyes didn’t say anything, simply slipped two fingers into my pussy and applied pressure upward toward my anus, much as Lustful Guy had. “You’re wet, Pet,” he commented. I wasn’t certain, but he sounded faintly amused. I arched my back, pushed back into his hand, moaned. “This plug is larger than the one you had this morning,” he said, still working my pussy. When my thighs quivered and my fingers curled into fists, he stopped. The disappointed whining sound I made surprised even me. Blue Eyes stood beside me where I could see him and held up a tail. It was literally a tail, like that of a fox, though obviously fake. I stared at it in confusion and finally noticed the butt plug it was glued to. This one was glass rather than silicone, and definitely wider and longer than the one Lustful Guy had inserted this morning.

  A tail?

  “A little decoration for my pet,” he said. “We’ll forego the ears this time.” He disappeared behind me again. Blue Eyes used a thicker lube than Lustful Guy had, massaging the outside of my anus with the pad of his thumb first, then letting the tip of his thumb intrude. I was too busy imagining a tail hanging out of my ass to realize he’d exchanged the butt plug for his thumb. Smooth and cold, it was impossible to resist, and he eased it in with a steady pressure. That same deep, insistent pain I remembered from the Punisher’s treatment drew forth a heartfelt “Fuck! Ow, ow… oh, God!” from my throat. Muscles forced to stretch more than they ever had, the need to close thwarted by the hard plug. I gasped for breath, tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t expected it to hurt this much!