Mary and Elizabeth

CHAPTER SIX

There she lay for a long time, unable to come to terms with what she undergone. Finally, in the early evening, thirst drove her from her kennel. She padded up her run to the trough as fast as she could, in order that the dog she shared it with wouldn't take all the water that Eva had just splashed into it, ignoring the soreness between her thighs and the pain of the stiffening flesh around the gouges her sexual partners had made on her back with their blunt claws. Her Mistress was standing at the end of her run, immaculate in cool white linen. But Mary could spare her only a glance before she lowered her head into the trough and sucked and lapped away in competition with the large Labrador bitch in the neighbouring run. But she heard her Mistress's words to the tall slave at her side, although she didn't gather the full meaning of them until much later that evening as she lay sleepless in her kennel.

''That bitch seems none the worse for mating, Belle,'' Elizabeth remarked lightly.

''She will be sore for some days, Mistress,'' replied her tall slave.

"No matter!'' came the languid reply. ''I shall have it mated every month from now. See to it that suitable dogs are provided. And see that their claws are closely clipped; I will not see it injured again in that way.'' (Here she obviously must have indicated Mary's lacerated back, for she went on). ''See that its back is cared for; I will not have it infected. A great pity that those sexual unions I allow it must remain fruitless,'' she mused, half to herself, ''but just maybe....?''

Her voice trailed off and she left them, her tall slave, Belle, following shortly after.

The bitch in the next run sniffed excitedly at the mesh dividing their runs. Perhaps she caught the scent of the dog semen drying on my thighs, thought Mary drowsily. Even after several hours she could feel the slimy stickiness high up between her legs as she limped up the run to her kennel in the darkening light.

Waking later that night, she crawled out into the moonlight to relieve her bladder, wincing at the aches and pains of her abused body. Too mentally restless to sleep, she lay down on the hard ground outside her kennel and gathered her thoughts.

Hatred of Elizabeth boiled in her veins. She writhed in shame and humiliation at the memory of her standing, so cool and elegant, looking on as she, Mary, was mated like a beast in a concrete pen. She recoiled in disgust as she recalled the feeling of the dogs' hot sperm being thrust deep within her, and of her own excited panting as the dogs took her. And that was a problem, she decided dispassionately; like it or not, there had been some parts of the experience she'd actively enjoyed. Clinically she dissected her feelings about the experience, discarding any vestiges of shame and guilt. She HAD enjoyed it, she thought, and from Elizabeth's last words she could expect it to be repeated at monthly intervals. On the plus side she had gone a long way in convincing her captors of her docility, and she could go still further. She could, once her body had healed, continue to shamelessly sexually tease any dog she came across. Only she would know she was simulating desire. This conduct, she thought, would reinforce the impression of acceptance and resignation she wished to convey. Meanwhile her Mistress had been good enough to order the scratches on her back treated. She pondered Elizabeth's remark about the regrettable fruitlessness of her impregnation by the dogs for a moment before dismissing it. She and the dogs were of different species; it would be impossible for them to beget offspring on her.

She turned her thoughts to her long-term project of escape, and dreamt pleasureably of what she'd do to her tormentor once the tables had been turned on her.

She was kept penned for a week while her body healed. Every morning Belle or Eva would rub soothing ointment into her back, and she was fully recovered when she was taken out for the first time to be washed down and sprayed with the deodorant used on the dogs before they were returned to their owners. Clean and relatively odourless for once, she was led to the foot of the patio and her leash handed to Elizabeth herself. She was clothed with her usual extravagant elegance, and she carried a parasol in her white-gloved hand to ward off the sun as she led Mary off into the garden. Mary padded along meekly at Elizabeth's side, occasionally catching a faint hint of her fragrance as they progressed though the shady paths. Then, as luck would have, Mary became aware of a familiar sensation in her colon. Nothing could be better, she thought with mounting excitement; this would go a long way towards establishing her credentials as the dog they imagined they'd transformed her into.

First she checked on her leash, causing her Mistress to stop and frown down at her.

'Whatever's the matter, Princess?' she heard her say irritably.

For answer Mary adopted a squatting position, making her intentions clear.

'Oh dear!' she heard Elizabeth sigh before tugging on Mary's leash and leading her off a few feet to a patch of bare soil. There Mary squatted and opened her bowls noisily, even remembering to try to turn around and sniff at her deposit before she was dragged away. Elizabeth increased their pace. Mary grinned to herself, imagining the older woman's lips compressed in a grim line of annoyance and embarrassment at the actions of her dog, the more so because the wretched bitch couldn't fairly be punished for succumbing to a natural function.

In the paddock Mary was unleashed to run around on the grass while Elizabeth promenaded the perimeter, her parasol elegantly held above her head and shoulders until Eva came out to spread a cover over the seat of the rustic bench which had been provided for her Mistress's comfort in a shady corner. There she sat, reading a book she'd brought in her fashionable reticule, and delicately sipping the iced tea her slave had brought.

Mary was enjoying her temporary freedom. She could move astonishingly fast and nimbly on all-fours after months of practice, and she had learnt to straighten her long 'hindlegs' and run on the balls of her feet and the tips of her mitts. Of course her forward vision was severely limited in this stance, and for a moment she wished her arms were longer or her legs shorter before sternly dismissing the notion. She would not be a four-legged animal for ever!

The faint sound from the silver whistle her Mistress had taken to wearing as a pendant reached her ears. She turned immediately at the summons and ran back as fast as she could into the scented shade where her Mistress sat. Panting, she lay at her feet. At a signal from Elizabeth, Belle clipped her leash to her collar and tied her to a leg of the bench downwind of her Mistress. She had brought out a plastic dog bowl full of water, and she set it down on the grass before the grateful Mary. Remembering to nuzzle the slave's hand in thanks before drinking, she lapped away noisily under her Mistress's amused gaze.

Aftewards she lay down, and was about to doze off when the arrival of Eve bearing more iced tea and a plate of thinly-cut cucumber sandwiches aroused her. Mary came alertly into a sitting position, her eyes on her Mistress as Elizabeth ate, occasionally giving a sigh of resignation as she sliced off the crusts which Eva, as usual, had forgotten to do.

Almost without thinking Mary padded to the end of her tether where she folded her legs beneath her. Then, balancing on the balls of her feet, she raised her upper body. Her arms crooked at the elbow, her mitted hands dangling from her wrists in front of her breasts, she stared up at her Mistress and whined beseechingly.

Elizabeth stared down at her in surprise.

'Oh!' she exclaimed in delight. 'She's begging! What a clever little dog you are, Princess!'

She took from her plate a sandwich crust and fastidiously extended it in her gloved fingers. Mary took it neatly between her lips, careful not to let them touch the pristine material of her Mistress's gossamer-soft silk gloves, and swallowed the morsel in a gulp. It was only a scrap of buttered bread with the faintest tang of tarragon vinegar from the cucumber, but to her it tasted heavenly, and it was with real enthusiasm that she begged again and again until Elizabeth, smiling indulgently, threw her the whole of the last remaining sandwich. Despite her attempt to snatch in her jaws as it flew past her head she failed. Turning with alacrity, she went down on her elbows and took the fragments it had split up into on landing into her mouth directly from the ground. She was well aware of the impression that she was presenting to Elizabeth, her head down as she snuffled up the scraps she'd been thrown, her rump thrust indelicately high into the air – the very image of an animal gobbling up its food from the ground – and she was glad of it.

When she turned and resumed her begging position Elizabeth laughingly showed her the empty plate.

'All gone, Princess!' Elizabeth told her with a smile, and Mary fell back to all-fours with a whimper of disappointment.

Her Mistress rose, untied the leash from where it had been secured, and led Mary slowly from the the paddock and into the main yard. There Mary took advantage of another opportunity to reinforce the impression she wish to convey. With an excited whine, she darted off to thrust her nose into the crotch of an unsuspecting spaniel lying tethered to the fence. Elizabeth was obliged to drag her off by her collar. 'Bad dog!' she was told, and she cowered instinctively in terror. But the voice of her Mistress had been soft and indulgent, and the expected whipping was witheld.

Elizabeth herself took her to her run, and with her own hands clipped the running chain to her collar before ruffling her hair in farewell and barring the run door on her. Mary lay down where she was, separated from the neighbouring bitch by the steel mesh, and waited for Eva or Belle to bring them water.

Mary was pleased with herself. Her display of acting during her latest excursion had been exemplary. Methodically she enumerated her successes. One: like a dog, she had shamelessly emptied her bowels at the end of a leash, then turned to sniff at them and been dragged away by her disgusted Mistress. Two: like a dog,she had begged for scraps from her Mistress's plate. Three, like a dog, she had shown herself unable to control her sexual urges. A very good day's work, she thought complacently, resolving to keep up the good fight at every available opportunity.