by Sara Tyr
For the first time, I let my eyes drift down as I took in the sight of my former employees. This wasn’t everyone, but there were enough. I caught sight of my former assistant, my chief engineer, the office manager, and several lead designers. Women and men, they looked at me naked, leashed, and utterly humiliated.
Instantly, I could tell they liked this. They wanted to see me humiliated, and now they got the chance. I couldn’t stop myself, yet I felt a dark hue of blush creep along my skin.
“Let’s start with something simple. Speak.”
I could have tried to fight. I could have tried to communicate some desperate desire not to be in this position. Maybe someone would have had pity on me, but what good could they have done?
Comprehension hit me. Nick owned me. I didn’t want to accept it, yet I couldn’t find any alternatives. It had already been days and I couldn’t overcome the collar’s programming. So what now? What could I do as all of these people watched me?
Nick let me hesitate for several seconds. Just as he was about to push me or punish me, I let out those horrid sounds that made me sound like some pathetic dog. “Arf! Arf!”
“Again,” he ordered.
“Arf! Arf!”
They laughed. All around the table, it started with snickers and turned to full laughter. More than one person clapped. Before that, they had been holding their breath, perhaps thinking this might be some sort of trap. Only now it was clear that Nick owned me.
“Beg,” he ordered.
It wasn’t an override, but I didn’t care because I wouldn’t get any help here. I got onto my knees and assumed the position. I even pouted my lips as my knees spread. Several of the guys smirked as they got to witness my naked body. They ogled my breasts, my slit, and they all laughed because I must have been so embarrassingly cute.
“She is a very well trained doggie girl now. So does anyone have any requests?”
Several hands shot up. I grimaced, hating them for enjoying this so much. At the same time, I tried to ignore the twinge of pride. They liked this, and I was making these people happy. But no, I couldn’t surrender to those impulses. I couldn’t think of myself as anything less than a woman.
But I wasn’t. Women didn’t get on conference tables, naked and leashed, ready to perform for her owner’s friends. Me? I did. Right there, I couldn’t deny the truth.
Nick picked Justin, my former assistant. He licked his lips once the room’s attention fell on him, “Can she roll over?”
“Let’s see,” Nick said before telling me, “Roll over. Roll over, girl!”
Again, the crowd waited, but I moved faster this time, rolling over two times and back again. When I settled back down on my back, I kept my hands and knees up in the air just the way Nick taught me. I looked just like a dog.
The applause came. More people whistled as though I had done something impressive. “What else would you like?” he asked.
One of my designers, a woman with red hair who never liked me, raised her hand and asked, “Can she play fetch?”
Again, my chest seemed to sink because Nick pulled out a ball. “I don’t know. She usually gets to run around a bit more, but I think she can do it. Let’s give her some applause to make sure she’s really inspired.”
My skin darkened several more shades of red, but when Nick threw the ball and it bounced along the mahogany tabletop, I darted after it, crawling. My former employees laughed and hooted like this was the most incredible thing they had ever witnessed. I grabbed the ball on its fourth bounce, right before it would have flown off of the table and hit the floor.
“Alright, puppy, very nice,” Nick said and sounded genuinely impressed. At the same time, his smirk made it very clear that he thought I was pathetic. To prove the point, he ordered, “Now why don’t you offer up the ball to this young mistress. Maybe if you beg, she’ll give you a nice petting.”
I bit down into the ball but I did it. I crawled over to the woman and dropped the ball just in front of her. She glanced over at Nick as though waiting for his permission. He gave her a nod, and she reached up to scratch me behind the ear. Utterly humiliated, I tried to look away but she whispered, her lips barely moving, “C’mon. Admit it. You like this.”
I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say to prove that I didn’t ask Nick for this kind of treatment.
The show lasted for more than an hour. In that time, I was made to crawl, to beg, play dead, and play fetch. By the end, Nick even made me shake hands with several of my former colleagues. They got to pet me and demean me, and only when it was done did Nick ask, “What do you think? Will you work with me?”
He got a standing ovation.
And in his triumph, it became clear that I was his pet. These people acknowledged it because he trained me. He had turned me from a powerful woman with her own company into the dog at his feet that would have to beg for treats.
The End
Puppy Girl
Sara Tyr
Cale sat at the edge of the fountain and watched the myriad of beautiful college girls. They pulled his gaze and made him wonder what it would be like to feel their skin or hear them beg for his touch. Blonds, brunettes, girls with big breasts or small ones, so many of them were cute or gorgeous. His backpack leaned against the blocked stonework. Behind him, the perpetual rain of water filled the air with a pitter-patter of sound. All around him, hot girls strolled from the library, to their classes, the student union, back to the dorms or their cars.
He was a graduate student, twenty-two, and looking forward to the practical applications of his thesis. This was going to be fun, but first he had to find a candidate.
Any one of the passing girls might work. There was the blond with big, bouncing breasts who wore skinny jeans and a tight sweater. Another girl, this one with straight red hair smiled at him. Cale smiled back, reasonably complacent in the understanding he could be charming when he chose. Then there was the girl in dark blue tights and a black mini-dress. So many prospective candidates.
He just had to choose one to train.
Who would be the lucky lady?
One girl with curly black hair caught his attention. He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared behind the biology building. He wondered if she was smart, shy, cocky, or a socialite or bookworm. So many possibilities and so much to learn, he thought and leaned back.
He braced his arms behind his back and looked up at the bright sun. The light warmed his face as heat soaked through his clothes. If he did this, it could go wrong in so many ways. And if he succeeded? Well, then Cale would have himself a delightfully docile sex slave. He could her scampering about on her hands and knees. He could also start to research the marketing implications for his research.
His professors called it behavioral modification. This line of inquiry also scared most of them. They still clung to concepts of free will and fairness. Sure, on one level he admired their devotion. It made them easier to predict, if nothing else. But then, Cale also believed people all tried to dominate one another. Whether through money or beautiful, charisma or wit, each and every person wanted to rule in one way or another. Everything came down to power, whether or not they wished to admit it.
Someone plopped down beside Cale. “Hey there.”
“Hi Rose,” Cale said, opening his eyes, and turning to the newcomer.
“You’re looking big and important.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“You think it’s a compliment?” asked Rose with an impish grin. For a moment, Cale inspected his friend. They met a year before when she first came to the school as a freshman. Cute, eager, she was the kind of girl who made guys chuckle and hope for a single, solitary chance with her. Guys flocked to her, only Cale understood her. He liked watching her strategies. For him, she was an example of what a girl could do with her feminine wiles. At parties, she made guys fantasize. During classes, she pulled their attention away from boring professors and irritating textbooks.
“Appea
rance doesn’t matter? I figured someone in your major would pay the most attention to perception.” While Cale enjoyed studying the human mind and how to best condition it for the most desired behaviors, Rose came at the same problem from a different direction. She was interested in marketing and getting her audience to act as she saw fit, so while he studied neural pathways and conditioned responses, she used jingles and pretty girls in bikinis.
With her rocking body, tight clothes, and willingness to laugh at guys’ jokes, Cale knew she had a good shot with pretty much anyone she met. Anyone of the male persuasion. Of course, they were just friends, but only because he didn’t like the idea of getting entangled with someone so dangerous. She was smart and could fascinate him, but he wouldn’t risk anything serious with a minx like her.
Besides, she had a boyfriend. They seemed to be in love. He wasn’t particularly bright, and even Rose seemed to recognize it. If anything, she loved him the way most owners love their dogs. He protected her, was devoted and loyal, and she made him very happily very easily with treats. It also helped that he didn’t put a lot of pressure on her. Definitely like a dog.
Cale wondered how he would take to pet ownership. He wouldn’t mind having a puppy girl to play with.
“Looks matter,” she agreed, snapping him back to reality. “Only I’m thinking you want to be able to back it up, right? You want to be able to make someone obey you.” She pulled her legs up onto the stonework and crossed them beneath her. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
This line of discussion turned to very dangerous ground. She knew about his triple major in psychology, sociology, and anthropology. All together, he longed to understand people and how they worked. Lots of his peers learned about his ambitious studies, though none put his goals together. Had Rose? He turned to her, scanning her features for some sign of revulsion or even fear.
If anything, he discovered amusement. Maybe some curiosity in the curve of her lips, the press of her gaze.
“You might be right.”
“A couple weeks ago, you sounded really happy. It sounded like you had everything you needed.”
Now Cale turned away, careful to search for any signs of someone eavesdropping on their conversation. College students spread through the plaza with laptops or cell phones out. No one could have heard how he answered, “Perhaps.” As a part of his thesis preparation, Cale had to use test subjects, students mostly, all of whom had signed extensive wavers. The faculty also observed them closely. He had gone as far with them as possible.
Hence his search for someone new.
Rose almost read his thoughts, “So you’d need a test subject?”
He glanced at her, sharper than he intended. She smirked, likely able to guess his reaction. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I have someone for you.”
“What?” It didn’t seem possible. Then again, he wondered how many people wouldn’t want to see his technique actually work. If he succeeded, he would be able to shape a human mind. He would take a girl—probably strong and independent—and rework her into a slave, a pet, anything he desired. Such knowledge excited him both for its theoretical and practical applications.
“Have you met my roommate?”
Cale remembered her name, “Alyssa?”
“Yup. Alyssa.” Rose spoke those two words like obscenities. She made them drip with disdain and derision. “My sweet roommate. Did you know she’s really nice and really pretty?”
“Something in your tone leads me to suspect you’re being sarcastic,” he said dryly.
Rose exhaled a puff of frustration, “Oh yes.” She glanced up at the sky like the right words would be there, “I think she has a thing for my boyfriend. Josh is a good guy, he’s sweet, and he’s also very gullible. Besides, he’s a guy and guys are usually pretty dumb.” She blinked and probably remembered the company she kept, “Except you, of course.”
“Of course,” said Cale with a sardonic nod.
“Okay, so don’t get me wrong, Alyssa is very sweet. She is the kind of girl who shows up at college and looks like a deer caught in the headlights. Only she’s been here for two years, and she still has this shy schoolgirl thing going on.”
“I thought you liked that persona.” He had studied her at different parties. She could be the determined intellect, the kinky party girl, or the bookishly shy student. All together, she read her audience and gave him whatever he wanted. She was seldom wrong.
“Exactly. Persona. Role. I do it because I know it’ll work. But it’s an act. Alyssa has been in college for two years, and she’s still doing it.” Rose paused for a second like she couldn’t figure out exactly how much she wished to reveal. “She’s been spending a lot of time with Josh, and to be honest, it’s kind of pissing me off.”
“Why not talk to her?” In most of Cale’s experience, most interpersonal problems related back to a simple lack of communication. Most humans were reasonable, their responses predictable, as long as everyone took the time to sit down and understand how everyone else is thinking.
“Because it’s not intentional. I doubt she knows what she’s doing, and I doubt she would stop.”
“And you’re worried if you bring it up, she might decide to go after him. That would be pretty heartless.”
“A girl in love…” Rose let the words drift away. Then she shook her head as though fighting off a bad taste stuck to her tongue. “People usually forget their morals when it’s convenient. Or they justify them. Either way, I think we have an opportunity here.”
“You know this wouldn’t be easy on her.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed an almost imperceptible distance. “Good. I don’t want it to be. In fact, I want it to be very, very difficult on her.” She grinned and held out her palm. After a moment’s consideration, Cale agreed and shook her outstretched hand.
Alyssa reached into her bag and rifled through it for her keys. She had been in a rush this morning and simply threw them in with her books, small amount of makeup, and everything else a college girl needed to get through her day. Only now it was late and she was ready to hit her bed. Anything else would be a distraction.
Finally, she found her keys beneath her statistics textbook. She pulled them out and opened her door. It was dark inside. That surprised her even as she stepped across the gloom. The door slid closed behind her and locked. It always did that as a security measure; most of the college students in her building complained about it since it made moving furniture alone basically impossible, but the administration didn’t care so much. They wanted to make sure no one forgot to lock their doors. Safety first.
Lights glowed from outside her window. Those wouldn’t go off until around midnight. She headed for her bed and the light switch. Dropping her bag, Alyssa started to think about the chores she wanted to finish tonight. She should review for a quiz, maybe do some laundry if she felt ultra ambitious.
She didn’t get the chance.
Alyssa was right in the center of the room when her foot caught on something. At first, it felt like a piece of string or something. It came up in front of her ankle, and when she tried to step forward, her momentum knocked her off balance and she fell forward. She tried to grab out for something, anything to regain her balance, but her hands only swiped at empty air before she tumbled to the carpet.
At first, her brain scrambled for something she could have tripped on. She and Rose were always really good about keeping clutter from messing up their dorm room. Her palms cushioned the blow. Moaning at the bit of pain in her fingers, she started to push herself up.
She didn’t get the chance.
Fast footfalls echoed through the room, creaked through the floorboards. Alyssa blinked fast, trying to get her eyes to adjust even as she rolled over to see who else might be there. Someone strong grabbed her arms and forced them behind her back. She caught the sight of light glinting on something metal. Her heart stopped at the thought he held a knife.
No, not a knife her panic driven brain realize
d in a second, handcuffs. She opened her mouth to scream. They were in a building filled with people, most of whom stayed up all night and slept through the mornings. Lots of them would hear her.
Her lungs filled, but right as she tried to scream out, something was stuffed in her mouth. Alyssa jerked her head from side to side, desperate to get rid of it, but whoever held it over and in her mouth was determined. Alyssa managed to dislodge it an inch, maybe two, yet whoever wanted to keep her from screaming was equally dedicated. She couldn’t dislodge it.
A scent filled her nose and lingered at the back of her throat. Alyssa couldn’t identify it. Something chemical. Even though she had never smelled it before, she guessed it had to be chloroform! What was happening here? How could this be possible? They were at a college. A trick! It had to be a trick! Some joke or something. What else could it possibly be?
As fear flared through her skull, Alyssa inhaled. She tried to stop. Fighting to shake the damp cloth free, she inhaled again. Breath after breath, the chemical odor filled her lungs. It didn’t do anything at first. Adrenaline and the need to get away pumped her body full of energy for five, ten seconds.
She inhaled to scream—taking even more of the sedative in with another gulped breath. Her limbs began to tingle and go quiet. Alyssa’s vision blurred as the edges of her sight closed in on her. She fought, kicked, and tried to scream again. Her blows were futile. They didn’t connect even as the darkness almost swallowed her completely.
A sense of helpless fury engulfed her. She kept trying and failing to get away. The arms held her. They felt like steal and refused to let go. She couldn’t get away. And then it didn’t matter because her body couldn’t fight any more.
Wondering who would do this to her, Alyssa’s body went limp as she relaxed into her captor’s arms.
Alyssa woke up to someone gently lifting her head back. A moment later, a plastic cup was pressed to her lips and water flowed into her mouth. She remembered how to swallow even as a little bit of the cool liquid went down the wrong pipe. The cup was pulled away as she coughed, her eyes fluttered open, and she tried to figure out where she was and what happened.