My Life as a Dog
by Sir Richard
1. Saturday Breakfast
‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure’ a wise man once said. That was really the story of my almost six years with Janet. Janet was chief surgical nurse at the major hospital in our city and I was a patient having minor surgery after an accident. I don’t know what she saw in me but, for my part, I was attracted to this spectacular beauty as soon as I saw her. After my release I invited her out and our courtship proceeded in whirlwind fashion. Soon we found that sex with each other was spectacular and soon after that we married.
It took about a year for us to realize that we had made a huge error. Our sex life was great but outside of the bedroom (or kitchen or living room) we found we had nothing in common. Janet’s entire life revolved around medicine, new medical techniques and advancements in medical technology. My life revolved around pushing up the corporate ladder at a large investment bank by spending many hours working deals in mergers and acquisitions. More than that we found our tastes were not compatible. We didn’t agree on music, movies, plays, art, concerts, food, drinks, politics, religion or anything else.
We spent the next two or three years trying to accommodate the other person and build some common interests including some spectacular vacations. While we had some very enjoyable times we never really meshed outside of sex. It didn’t help that both of our jobs were intense and demanding on our time. While Janet nominally had shifts, an accident could result in long overtime in surgery. Most of my work involved international clients and often required long early morning telephone calls to London, Brussels and Frankfurt and equally long late night calls to Tokyo and Hong Kong.
The last couple of years we were more like two strangers sharing a house. In the end we agreed to divorce but promised each other that we wouldn’t let it degenerate into shouting matches and acrimony. In fact we both held off on hiring lawyers while we focused on how we would divide our not inconsiderable assets. Actually we were doing pretty well on that until we came to the issue of the pre-nuptial agreement.
Let me explain. When we got married Janet and her parents insisted we sign a pre-nuptial agreement. Janet had a trust fund that had been an inheritance from her grandparents. It wasn’t huge, about $35,000, but she wanted to be certain that it would be protected. At the time my only asset was a little over 200 acres of rocky, worn out farm land that my father had left me. The value of the entire property wasn’t more than $50,000 or so. The land was leased to sheep ranchers and the grazing fees barely covered the county real estate taxes. We agreed that if the marriage didn’t last we would each leave with what we owned before the marriage.
Over the years Janet’s fund grew with dividends and interest as well as some fund management and was now worth more than $42,000. On the other hand urban sprawl had pushed out to bump against my barren land and developers were now willing to pay around $5,000 per acre. That made my land worth something in excess of a cool million dollars. Of course there would be taxes and fees, but the taxes would be at the capital gains rate and the fees on large transactions would be negotiated at much less than normal brokerage fees. In sum my useless property was now quite valuable. It was at that point that Janet decided she really didn’t want the pre-nuptial agreement to apply. As you might imagine I saw no reason not to abide by the terms of the agreement.
That was the status on that fateful Saturday morning when we sat down for breakfast. Janet served me a cup of coffee and said, “Look, I really think we should scrap the pre-nuptial. It’s only fair.”
As you might imagine my view was somewhat different and I sipped my coffee and responded, “Jan, we have already discussed this. It was you who wanted the agreement and I don’t see why I should abandon it now.”
“You are such a bastard!” she said with some force. “OK, I guess I will just have to go to plan B.”
I took another sip and asked “What is plan B?”
“You’ll find out.” She answered. “Finish your coffee and it will all become clear to you.”
I thought that was a strange thing to say but I didn’t want another verbal sparring match so I ate some of my breakfast and drank the rest of my coffee. It was then that I realized the room was spinning and I was having trouble lifting my toast to my mouth. The last thing I remember was Janet grinning at me.
2. Captured and Converted
I woke up feeling strange. My head was hanging down and I realized that my knees and elbows were tied down to the feet of our living room hassock. I groggily pushed up and realized that a belt or strap of some sort held my chest to the hassock. As I became more awake I realized that I was nude.
I guess I groaned and raised my head because I heard Janet’s voice from somewhere behind me saying, “Oh good. You’re awake and we can get started. I could have done all this while you were still asleep but I wanted to be certain you enjoyed every minute of it.”
“Every minute of what? What are you doing here and why don’t I have on any clothes. Who tied me down?”
“Whoa!” Janet said. “So many questions. Just be patient and I will explain everything. First, do you remember how you said a house really isn’t a home without a dog?”
The sudden shift of topics confused me and I said “Damn it. Untie me and let me get up.”
I heard a whooshing sound and something impacted my ass, impacted it hard. Janet said “You were asked a question, ass hole.”
“Yes I remember about the dog. Now let me up.”
Janet laughed and said “You are never getting up. You are going to become my pet dog and dogs walk on all fours.”
“That’s crazy. I’m not a dog. I’m your husband. Now stop this stupid game and let me up.”
Janet didn’t respond but took something from a tray and began to rub it on my arm. It felt cold and wet and I asked, “What the hell is that?”
She giggled, that light sound I so loved to hear, and said “It’s just a little rubbing alcohol. Don’t want my puppy to get an infection from his shots.”
“What shots?” I asked. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Janet picked up a syringe and pressed the needle into my arm. I could feel the fluid as she injected me. She said, “It’s just a little curare, puppy.”
“Curare!” I exclaimed. “That’s a deadly poison, you crazy bitch.”
I heard the whoosh again and felt something impact on my ass again. This time she didn’t stop with one stroke but continued to beat me as she said, “Bad puppy. You had better mind your manners or you’re going to have a really sore ass.”
Eventually she stopped and came around in front of me. Janet squatted down and lifted my head by pulling up on a handful of my hair until she could look me in the eyes. I shivered at how cold and angry her eyes were, but her voice was quite reasonable as she said, “Actually curare isn’t a poison at all. It is a neuromuscular blocker. To simplify for a dumb money grubber like you, that means it effectively paralyses the muscles.
“Amazon Indians use it to hunt. They dip their blow gun darts in curare and shoot small animals. The dose is enough to paralyze the animal’s heart, killing it. That’s what gave it the reputation of being a deadly poison. These days we use it in surgery so that the nerves can’t cause involuntary twitches of muscles while we are operating.
“Well, today I am using it to paralyze your muscles so it will be easier to convert you into my pet dog. Don’t worry, you miserable shit, I’m not going to kill you. That would be much too easy for you. You are going to spend many years as nothing but a dog.”
I was glad she wasn’t planning to kill me but converting me to a dog didn’t sound so great either. I tried to talk her out of whatever she had planned, even promising to waive the pre-nuptial agreement. None of this had any effect on Janet as she cleaned and injected my other arm. She actually smiled at me as she told me to save my breath. “Things have gone too far,” she said. “I don’t trust you and I could get in big trouble if they knew I had stolen these medicines. Besides, this will let me avoid the mess of a divorce. Instead you are just going to abandon me. I have it all planned out.”
She untied my arms from the hassock but I found that I couldn’t move them at all. Instead Janet lifted my hand to my shoulder and began to wrap it in medical tape. When she finished my fingers had been taped into a fist and my wrist was taped to my shoulder. She continued to wrap tape around my arms welding my forearms to my biceps and effectively rendering me helpless. With both arms wrapped she produced two plastic objects with paw-like pads on the bottom. The upper part was a cup-like shape lined, as I learned, with rubber padding. These she fastened to my elbows saying, “I’m not entirely heartless, you know. These extensions will cushion your elbows and extend your front paws so that you don’t strain your back.”
Janet then showed me a thick leather collar with a protrusion on one side. She wrapped it around my neck saying, “I’d be very quiet if I were you.”
“What…,” I started to ask when a terrible pain encircled my throat. I almost passed out but heard Janet’s voice as if from afar.
“You never did want to listen to reason. I warned you to be quiet. That is an anti-bark collar around your throat. If you try to talk or even whisper it will sense the vibrations as the air passes over your vocal cords and give you a very nasty shock.
“It has another function as well. Last week, when you were in Europe, I had an invisible fence wire installed underground. If you go anywhere near it you will feel a warning tingle but if you continue to approach you will get the same debilitating shock. Just so you know, the wire runs across the front of the house and down both sides. I decided to be generous and had them run it down the sides and across the bottom of the back yard. That way you can romp and play in the back just like the puppy you are going to be.”
“Oh and there is a third way to set off the collar. I have this remote,” she said, waving a plastic device at me, “and any time I think my puppy isn’t obedient enough, I can do this.”
Janet pressed the button and must have held it down for a few seconds as the pain seemed to go on forever. I don’t know how long she held it because I passed out.
When I woke I felt Janet’s hands on my cock. As I became more aware I realized that she had pushed my flaccid cock into some sort to tube and was closing a locking ring around my scrotum. I was about to protest the chastity device when I remembered the terrible pain that the collar could generate.
I heard a click as Janet said, “This is such a silly little lock. I bet a man could cut it off with a bolt cutter or perhaps even pry it open with a screw driver. What a pity dogs can’t use bolt cutters or screw drivers.” Then the evil bitch giggled again. She was enjoying this while I was completely helpless. “With your little dicky locked up I won’t have to worry about my dog humping my leg or the furniture.”
Little dicky indeed. She had never had any complaints about my dick when we were having sex. She was, I realized, just trying to humiliate me even more. Still I was a bit worried about the chastity belt. Surely she would allow me some sex. Perhaps, I thought hopefully, with her, but if not surely she would let me masturbate. But, I realized, even if she removed the chastity belt I couldn’t masturbate with my hand taped to my shoulders.
I was beginning to realize just how dire my situation was and with the shock collar on, I couldn’t even ask questions. I guess my head was just clearing from whatever knockout drugs she had used because it wasn’t until now that I realized that this wasn’t some spur of the moments attack resulting from this morning’s conversation. We didn’t have all these drugs or artificial paws around the house. Further, Janet must have doped the coffee before I even came into the kitchen. Neither of us rode horses so the riding crop as well as the chastity device must have been purchased some time ago. Realizing that Janet had planned for my immobilization made my predicament even more frightening.
I saw Janet’s legs as she came around and picked up another device. It looked like two long metal strips with curves at both ends. Janet wanted to be certain I understood just how helpless she was going to make me. As she had when she explained about the curare, she squatted in front of me and held up the device. She manipulated it as she spoke, demonstrating that the metal strips were hinged at one end.
“This is a humbler,” she said. “It’s designed to deal with arrogant bastards who don’t listen to their wives, like you. These curved ends go around the back of your thighs and your balls come through this little space and are held out back. They are held out in a position that’s very convenient for punishing any rebellion. It forces you to keep your thighs more or less at ninety degrees to your torso. If you try to stand it will pull your balls. Very painful, I understand. Even if you keep your thighs bent, if you try to sit like a human you will find your weight is crushing your balls. Not a nice feeling.”
This was a nightmare. I know Janet and I were no longer in love but when had she become this sort of monster? Her plans were frightening and I could already feel the pressure on my scrotum and testicles as she installed the diabolical humbler. The idea of enslaving someone and making them act like a pet dog was crazy. I began to wonder if Janet had a mental problem.
After that I felt the familiar cold and wet as she scrubbed my thighs and then injected the muscle paralyzer. Her next step was to untie my knees from the hassock and bring my feet up to my buttocks pressing the metal humbler tightly into my thighs. Medical tape wrappings ensured that they would stay in that position. More wrappings held my calves tightly to my thighs. The final step was plastic knee pads shorter than the ones on my elbows but lined with the same soft rubber.
“Now, before I let you off the hassock…,” Janet said, “…I want to demonstrate just how vulnerable you are. You know about the shock collar and clearly the upper part of your ass is exposed for my crop or a cane.” She illustrated this by slashing my butt with her riding crop.
“You can’t see behind you, of course, but your balls are presented for punishment very nicely.” Janet swatted my balls painfully. Fortunately she used the leather flap at the tip of her riding crop rather than the stiff shaft but the point was still clear. Clear and very painful.
“And then…,” she continued, “…there are the soles of the feet. It’s really strange how most of the internet BDSM stories ignore the feet as a location for creating pain. There are really a lot of nerves in the bottom of the feet. That’s why a foot massage is so nice. All those little sensation receptors can be used for pleasure or for pain.”
Janet proceeded to demonstrate by slashing both of my soles with several hard blows from her crop. The pain was so intense I lost control and screamed. Of course that set off the shock collar and left me a quivering wreck, with pain from both my neck and my feet.
“Look at the time,” Janet said. “It’s time to make you disappear. Come with me,” she ordered as she unfastened the strap that had held my chest to the hassock.
That was easier said than done. I was unsteady on my new ‘paws’ as I padded after her to the master bedroom. I found I had to keep my ‘steps’ quite short with my knees moving ahead of my hips and then just back to directly below the hips. If I let my knees get behind my hips I pulled on the humbler which in turn tugged painfully on my testicles.
Eventually we got to the master bedroom. Janet picked up a small overnight bag and said, “My disguise.” Then she left telling me that if I had to go to the bathroom I had better climb into the bathtub and that if she found a mess when she returned I wouldn’t like the punishment she would meet out. I had no idea where she was going or what she was planning. I spent the next few hours wandering through the bedroom, the bathroom and the walk in closet. Gradually I became better adjusted to my bondage.
I also discovered some limits on my abilities. I couldn’t reach very high and with my fingers taped I couldn’t grasp anything. Janet had pulled the bedroom door shut and I couldn’t reach the doorknob but even if I had been able to reach it I doubt I could have turned the knob. Thus without locks or chains I was effectively imprisoned. Light switches and television remote controls were beyond my reach.
I spent most of the day learning to ‘walk’, lie down and get up. It was all very boring but I was trapped. I did have to urinate and found that if I worked a front ‘paw’ into the tub and then followed with the rear ‘paw’ on that side I could slide far enough over to bring in the other side ‘paws’ and get completely into the tub.
3. I Abandon Janet
Eventually Janet returned, inspected the rugs and told me I was a ‘good boy,’ as she rinsed out the tub with cold water. Then she told me how she had laid a trail for my having abandoned her. She had taken my car and driven to the airport where she parked it in the long term lot. Then she took the shuttle to the departure terminal, slipped into a bathroom where she donned her ‘disguise’. She wore my bulky leather jacket and a scarf which she used to hide the bottom of her face. Large sun glasses hid her eyes and eyebrows. She pulled her hair back through a baseball cap which she pulled low over her forehead. To hide her long feminine fingers she wore a pair of my work shop gloves as she used my bank card to draw $500 (our daily maximum) from an airport ATM (Automatic Teller Machine or what Europeans call a Bank Machine).
Once out of range of the ATM’s security camera she dumped my wallet with the bank card, my driver’s license and insurance cards, along with my keys into a trash bin at the airport. She knew that the authorities would eventually find the car and probably the wallet and keys and hoped that they would conclude I had left by air using false identification. In a bathroom stall, she took off the jacket, scarf, sun glasses and cap and loaded them in her carry bag.
Janet then used public transit to go downtown where she dumped all of the items except the bulky jacket into scattered trash bins. The jacket she dropped at the feet of a homeless beggar. Then she took a taxi to a shopping mall near our home. After the city taxi had left she called a local taxi service to bring her home. She even did some quick shopping so she had bags to carry when she boarded the local taxi.
Janet was pleased with herself and her voice was bubbly as she told me how she had laid the false trail. While she was talking she undressed and ran a bath. Of course my cock tried to rise but was prevented by the chastity belt. I must have moaned because I got a fierce shock from the collar.
Janet thought that was funny and said, “Oh, poor puppy. You better get used to being frustrated silently. I don’t want a dog that is always whimpering.”
4. The worried wife
After her bath, Janet amazed me by picking up the telephone and calling the police. In a concerned tone of voice she explained that her husband had gone out on some errands and hadn’t yet returned. Of course I only heard her side of the conversation but apparently she was told that there hadn’t been any major accidents in our area but that she should contact the local hospitals and that she couldn’t file a missing persons report until twenty four hours after I had disappeared. I listened to her concerned wife voice and wondered at how much of an actress she had become.
When she finished with the police she followed up by calling the nearby hospitals. Of course I wasn’t in any of them. I was on all fours at my duplicitous wife’s knees listening to her act the part of a concerned wife.
5. Saturday Evening
When she finished her calls she sat on the side of the bed. I guess it was her bed now. She called me to her and said, “After that exhausting day I need your tongue. You were pretty good at licking my pussy when you were my husband but as a dog you are going to get a lot of practice and really become expert.”
“Now, before we start I just want to warn you. I have left you with all of your teeth so far and I know you could bite some very tender flesh. If you do that, I won’t crop you or even cane you. I will whip you until you are a bloody mess. Then, I will jerk out all your front teeth with pliers and you won’t be able to eat solid foods for the rest of your life. If you doubt that, just get careless with your teeth. You are my dog now but remember that dogs that refuse to behave are punished, and dogs that resist their training are routinely put down.”
In my helpless state I took her warnings to heart. I had no idea of how cruel and vindictive Janet could be. If you had told me this morning about what Janet had planned, I would never have believed it. This was, after all the woman I had thought I loved and though we now realized we weren’t right for each other we had lived together for almost six years. The idea of her enslaving me and then dehumanizing me would have sounded preposterous. And yet here I was.
As far as oral sex itself, this was no real burden. I had always enjoyed going down on Janet and sort of got an ego boost when I saw how powerful her orgasms were and how much pleasure I had given my partner. Of course, that had been when penetrative sex generally followed but I knew that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
I began by kissing her inner thighs moving up slowly. Her mumbled sighs were encouraging though her occasional muttering “Good puppy” reminded me of my bondage and detracted from my sense of satisfaction. Six years of sex, often oral sex, with Janet had taught me what she liked and I did my best to please her. Broad licks at the junction with her thighs and then over her hairless vulva had her moaning with her pleasure. I moved on to forcing my tongue into her and then lapping up her slit almost to her clitoris. When I judged that she was close, I slid up to her clit and sucked it between my lips, my tongue rapidly flicking over the tip. Janet was a moaner, rather than a screamer, but her moans changed enough that I could tell she was crashing over the edge. Knowing that she would be overly sensitive for the next minute or so I backed off slightly.
I fully expected to be ordered to do it again to take advantage of her multi orgasmic abilities but this first one had apparently been immensely satisfying. I couldn’t help wondering if part of the satisfaction came not from the orgasm itself but from having her husband reduced to a slobbering pet animal. Perhaps thinking of her control and my helplessness had made the orgasm stronger. Whatever the reason she simply led me to the bathroom. Pulling a spare blanket and pillow from the linen closet she tossed them into the bathroom and instructed me to use the tub if I needed to urinate. Then she closed the bathroom door, effectively imprisoning me until morning or whenever she decided to release me. I realize that I was both hungry and thirsty but couldn’t ask for a meal. After some internal deliberation I slaked my thirst by lapping water from the toilet bowl. It was demeaning and humiliating but did solve my thirst.
I managed to get the blanket spread on the floor insulating me somewhat from the cold tiles and used my teeth to pull it, more or less, over my curled body. The humbler ensured that I had to remain in that curled up position for the entire night. Despite the blanket the tile floor was hard and uncomfortable and the cold crept through the blanket which, together with my hunger, ensured that I spent an unhappy and restless night.
6. Sunday Morning
Early Sunday Janet opened the bathroom door. She was clad in a robe and my cock tried to get hard at the appearance of her lovely body. Despite my situation, I recognized how sexually attractive Janet remained. She cheerfully announced, “Time to get up puppy. We have to get you ready for the new day.” Snapping a leash to my collar she simply ordered me to, “Come!”
I was stiff and sore after spending the night on the cold, hard floor curled into a more or less fetal position. As I tried to get up on my ‘paws’ my stiff limbs caused me to moan triggering the shock collar and causing me to fall back to the floor. Janet thought this was amusing and giggled but said only, “Come on get up. Don’t make me go for the remote or my crop.” After a moment she added, “That does look uncomfortable. If you’re a really good obedient puppy I might let you sleep on the carpet in my bedroom, but you have to earn that privilege.”
Eventually I made it up and followed her to “her” kitchen reminding myself that just yesterday morning it had been our kitchen. Of course I realized that sleeping on the carpet would be better than on the tile floor but I was angry to think that I would have to earn the privilege by my good puppy behavior. When I got to the kitchen I could smell bacon, eggs and coffee brewing. Apparently Janet had started breakfast before releasing me. My stomach reminded me that I hadn’t had a meal since my aborted breakfast yesterday morning. My spirits rose when Janet said, “Here’s your breakfast, puppy.”
They were immediately dashed when she placed a dog dish on the floor with some chopped concoction over what appeared to be kibble. Clearly I was to eat dog food. I stared at the mess but couldn’t bring myself to try to eat it until Janet said, “You are going on a diet and will get two meals a day from now on. I will feed you kibble and dog food although I’m going to add some vegetables in the evening. I have been through the ingredients and the kibble and dog food will provide most of the nutrients you need to remain healthy. I’ll cover the rest with veggies. You will lose weight but won’t starve. I know you won’t like eating like a dog but I don’t care. Now eat your meal or I’ll simply whip your ass until you do.”
Realizing the hopelessness of my situation and the fact that I needed something to assuage my hunger, I lowered my face to the dog dish and began to eat the disgusting mess. Janet laughed and said, “You see. Even though you’re an old dog you can learn new tricks. Maybe we will go out back and play fetch after you finish your meal.”
She placed a second dish with water next to the food dish saying, “Here’s some nice healthy tap water for my puppy. I have added lemon juice to give you your citrus fruits. We wouldn’t want the puppy to get scurvy. I hope you like the taste because this is all you get to drink.”
The unsweetened lemon juice made the water bitter and I found that it was pretty much impossible to drink without lapping the water up with my tongue, as a dog would. Similarly when I had most of the kibble and dog food, I found myself still hungry and used my tongue to lap up the last few bits. My humiliation was complete when Janet used my hair to pull my face up and wiped the mess from around my lips with a kitchen sponge.
After breakfast Janet led me out into the back yard. Though our house was a single story ranch style home, there was a slight slope to the ground and there were three steps from the rear porch down to ground level. It was awkward maneuvering down the steps primarily because I couldn’t let my knees move behind my hips. The damn humbler tugged at my testicles every time I forgot. In the end I sort of crabbed sideways down the steps, looking, no doubt, as awkward as a puppy.
7. Cleaning the Dog
I thought she was going to make good on her threat to make me play ‘fetch’ but that wasn’t to be. In retrospect I wish it had been as what transpired next was pure torture.
Janet led me to the rear of the property where I saw a newly erected garden shed which rested on a concrete pad that extended in front of the shed. In the center of the extension there was a drain, and the extended concrete was covered by a canvas roof supported by sizeable wooden posts.
“I had this built during that overseas trip of yours. I think the contractor thought I was mad when I insisted he tie a drain into the sewer. I explained that you wanted to be able to clean the lawn mower and wash the clippings into the sewer. He was even more baffled…” she laughed, “… when I insisted on the posts and a canvas roof so that you could pot plants out here, even in rainy weather.”
Janet brought me onto the concrete pad and turned me so I was facing away from the shed. Then she took off my leash and clipped chains from the posts on either side to the ring in my collar. My anxiety rose as she ran additional chains from the corner of the shed to fasten around my bound legs. Now I was immobile. The chains on my legs, what Janet called my rear paws, prevented me from moving my knees forward and the humbler prevented me from moving them back. Sideways movement was prevented by the neck chains.
Janet set something that looked like an artist’s easel with the legs chopped off on the ground in front of me. On this she set a largish framed mirror. With it in place I saw the shed door open and surmised that the easel and mirror had been stored in the shed. She smiled into the mirror as she said, “I want you to be able to see what’s going on. Part of the fun will be watching your humiliation as you see just how helpless you are and how low you have fallen.”
She returned to the shed and emerged with a rubber object and what appeared to be a large kitchen timer. The rubber object was roughly penis shaped and had a short hose and a roundish object dangling from it.
Just as she had yesterday, Janet seemed determined to explain the clever toys she had purchased, or brought from the hospital, to control and torment me. She showed me the penis shaped object and said, “This is an enema nozzle we use mainly when we have to clean out an unconscious patient. There is a slim metal tube with a one way valve running up the center. The outside is a flexible rubber bag. It gets inserted in the rectum and then I squeeze this pump so that the bag gets inflated ensuring a tight seal with no possibility of any leakage. Then we attach the enema hose to the rear of the tube and we can be certain the patient will hold the enema for the required time. Patients that are awake find it uncomfortable and I am going to make certain that you are worse than uncomfortable. They say that it goes in easier if the patient relaxes but if the patient resists, insertion can be very painful. I hope you clench your rectum tightly so that I can ram this in with my knee.”
When had Janet come to be so angry with me? This was obviously something that had been building for some time and I just couldn’t believe that it was only a dispute over money. She was really angry and had planned this to cause me pain as well as humiliation. The only thing I could think of was Janet was having some sort of mental problem. Surely she had never exhibited signs of one but I wasn’t an analyst. We had been growing apart for some time but I had thought we remained friends. Either I had been too dense and self absorbed to see what she was becoming or she had hidden her anger and vengeance very carefully.
Janet snapped on a pair of gloves and lubed up the nozzle. Then she rather forcefully inserted it in my rectum. I felt some fumbling around as she grabbed the air pump and then the bag began to inflate within me. She continued to pump until I felt that I would be ripped apart. It was very painful.
“We usually use about a pint of fluid and have the patient hold it for five minutes.” Janet said, “In your case, I am going to use a full two quarts and really fill that belly. I’ll set the kitchen timer for thirty minutes so you can watch it as it slowly counts down and think of the cramps in your belly. This is going to happen every morning as I don’t want to have to clean up doggie poop. I think it will really be painful. After all you deserve pain for having deserted your loving wife.”
Then she laughed and the laugh frightened me. She was really enjoying this. I wondered again if she had had some sort of mental breakdown. I knew we didn’t love each other but how on earth did she come to enjoy tormenting me? The prospect of being the prisoner of a deranged woman was frightening.
Janet returned to the shed and rolled out a medical device usually used to elevate bags of saline solution for an intravenous injection. Instead of the clear bags of saline the device was supporting a red rubber bag which she proceeded to fill with various liquids. Then she stepped behind me and apparently fastened the long tube from the rubber bag to the metal tube inside my ass.
She laughed as she released the clip and said, “Ready or not, here it comes.”
I won’t bore you with every step but suffice it to say my abdomen was distended as though I was pregnant by the time the last of the two quarts entered me. Janet left, leaving me to my suffering and cramps. She returned well after the timer had ticked off the thirty minutes. The cramps were terrible but confined as I was, there was nothing I could do but endure them. When she deflated the bag, the nozzle and all of the solution and fecal matter gushed out of my rear onto the ground. The final bits dribbled out running down my bound legs. The smell was terrible.
I was gasping for air but being careful not to trigger the shock collar when she jammed the nozzle back into me. Of course this caused me to groan and set off the shock collar. She ignored my pain and inflated the bag again explaining, “We will do a rinse with just water to be certain you are really cleaned out. Unfortunately it will be cold water and that may be painful.”
I think she must have put ice into the enema bag as the rinse was shockingly cold and caused cramping almost as nasty as the enema itself had done. Thankfully she only left this in for a few minutes but kneeling on the concrete partly covered with fecal matter and almost overwhelmed by the odor it seemed much longer.
Then Janet put the rolling stand and enema bag back in the shed along with the kitchen timer. She produced a hose and screwed it to a water bib. Using the hose she washed the fecal matter down the drain and then turned the hose on me. It was very cold and she made certain that she not only washed the fecal matter but that she washed every part of me. Rather sadistically she seemed to delight in aiming the hose at my face, flooding my nose and mouth causing me to cough and activate the shock collar. She also spent more time than required directing the force of the hose against my testicles and sore anus.
I had a brief glimmer of hope when I saw that the water was loosening the ends of some of the medical bandages but it was snuffed out almost at once when Janet turned off the hose and brought out a large box filled with what we used to call Vet Wrap. This is a stretchy bandage that has no adhesive but clings to itself. It had been invented for veterinarians to use on animals so that it could be removed without pulling on the patient’s fur, but it had gained wide acceptance for use on humans where the strength of medical tape wasn’t required. Janet simply wrapped roll after roll of the Vet Wrap over the bandages, securing them in place, even where the water had loosened the adhesive at the edges.
As she worked she said, “After a few months we won’t need to worry about the medical tape. The muscles in your arms and legs will have atrophied and the Vet Wrap will be strong enough to hold you. In fact, people who have to wear a cast for more than a month generally need rather painful physiotherapy before they can regain use of their limbs. Just think in a few months you won’t have the muscle strength to be able to move your limbs even without any binding.”
She smeared some sort of cream over my cheeks and chin. As the cream began to create feelings of heat I thought it was muscle cream of some sort. Janet explained, however that, “This is a depilatory cream. I don’t want any scratchy stubble when you lick me. This is really good and we won’t need it more than once a week. After a month or so it may have done enough so that I don’t need to use it at all.” By this time my face felt as though it was on fire and when she decided the cream had done its work and turned the hose on me again, even the cold water felt good.
“Now…” she said, “…just one more addition before we return to the house.” Janet rolled up the hose and took it and the spare vet wrap tape back into the shed. When she returned I could see that she was carrying what looked to be a cone shaped object with a rounded tip and a ‘T’ shaped handle at its base. Without any warning she rammed the item into my anus, provoking a grunt that activated the shock collar. She continued to push it into me, stretching me until she reached the base and my anus closed over the butt plug. “That…” she said, “…ought to keep you uncomfortable until tomorrow morning’s enema. You will feel that thing with every step you take.”
She reached back into the shed and pulled out something that proved to be a tube, made of fur and open at one end with a snap closure. She proceeded to pull the open end over the ‘T’ handle of the butt plug snapping it closed so that it couldn’t fall off. Then she dropped the remainder of the tube, saying, “Every doggy needs a tail. I designed your so that it will gently caress your balls as you walk. Hopefully it will drive you wild with constant frustrating sexual arousal. Between the plug and the tail every step will remind you of how controlled you are, even when I’m not home. I hope you hate it, darling, because I really want you to be uncomfortable every minute of the day.”
While I was dripping dry Janet buckled a second shock collar around my neck. Then she removed the first one, explaining that she was placing it on the recharger so that it would have a full charge when we replaced it tomorrow. Looking down at me she asked if I needed a demonstration of how well the replacement collar worked. In replacing the collar she had freed my neck and now I vigorously shook my head indicating ‘NO!’ While I shivered as I dried in the open air she moved the mirror and easel, presumably back into the shed.
8. The Concerned Wife Appears Again
When I had dripped dry, Janet freed my legs from the chains, clipped the leash to my collar and led me back in the house. As on the way out, I found it difficult to negotiate the steps without having the humbler pull at my testicles. Once we were inside she dropped a paper on the floor and said, “I’m so pleased that you rigged your home computer to integrate with your office machine. I sent this yesterday before driving to the airport. It’s your letter of resignation.”
I looked down at the paper on the floor. It was addressed to the managing partner with copies to my direct boss and the head of the firm’s Human Resources Department. It appeared to have been sent from my office machine and read:
‘I am herewith resigning my position effective immediately. I have accepted a position with a small investment banking operation overseas. I understand and will abide by the ‘no compete’ clause in my employment contract and promise that I will not approach any of our current clients.
I apologize for the abrupt nature of my departure but my marriage has been falling apart for some time and the offer I have received allows me to avoid the stress of a messy divorce battle and to begin over in a different country. I know that my accumulated vacation time, both unused vacation from last year and that earned this year, amounts to more than a month and ask that you assume I have given a month’s notice and have taken my vacation time during that month.
I want to thank you for many productive and educational years and assure you that my departure in no way reflects any lack of satisfaction with my current job, my supervisors and co-workers or my remuneration.
It was signed by me and would be discovered on Monday. No doubt the firm would think I had composed and sent it sometime Saturday. After I read the note I looked up at Janet with sorrow in my eyes but she simply picked up the paper and crumpled it into the trash.
Janet made her lunch but didn’t feed me. I was still hungry so I left the kitchen and began to roam the house. Unfortunately her plans worked perfectly. As I walked the butt plug moved from side to side inside me, a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. As the butt plug moved the ‘tail’ brushed back and forth over my stretched scrotum, tickling my testicles and arousing me. Of course the chastity belt prevented me from having an erection so I found it very frustrating.
When Janet finished lunch, and presumably cleared the dishes, she brought several boxes and packaging tape from where they had been hidden in the guest room closet into the master, or I guess more accurately, her bedroom. Curiously I watched as she set up the boxes and then began dumping my clothes into them. She didn’t bother to fold anything. She stuffed my suits into the boxes along with my casual clothes and shoes. Neckties and underwear shared space with sport and dress shirts. My razor and toiletries went into my travel kit and were set on the bottom of one box. When she had loaded all of my clothes and belongings, she sealed the boxes and then taped labels on them.
As I read the labels, I again realized how much advance planning had gone into her scheme. These were prepaid delivery service shipping labels addressed to the Salvation Army Thrift store. The return address was the hospital at which she worked but there was nothing that identified her as shipper or allowed anyone to trace the boxes back to this address. The labels were prepaid with what must have been a hospital account number.
I know it is stupid but it wasn’t until I saw her stuffing all of my clothes into the boxes that I really understood what she was doing to me. I know she had drugged me and put me into bondage and told me I would be her dog. I knew and understood all of these things intellectually, but it wasn’t until I saw her dump my things into boxes ready for donation that it really hit me emotionally. I think it was at that moment that I began to hate Janet and that I began to realize that I had to devise some way of escape. I knew that with the limited calories she was feeding me along with the lack of use of my limbs, my body would gradually decay and weaken. Not only would the muscles in my extremities atrophy but my body would gradually consume itself to compensate for the reduced caloric intake. First my body would consume fat cells but eventually muscle and other tissue would weaken and be used by the body to compensate for lack of food.
Of course it was easy to think that I had to escape. It wasn’t easy to devise a practical and workable plan of escape. Never the less, from that time on, I spent most of my free time devising and then discarding half baked escape plans.
Janet moved the boxes onto the front porch while telling me that the delivery service would pick them up Monday morning while she was at work. More evidence, if I had needed any, that this had all been planned out some time ago and the conversation Saturday morning had no relation to the situation in which I now found myself.
Janet then went into her concerned wife act again. She called all of the hospitals to see if anyone answering my description had been brought in. Of course the results were negative. She then called the police and filed a missing person report. She gave them the information they requested regarding my description and that of the vehicle I had been driving. She also added that my clothes were no longer in the closet and that our online banking showed a $500 withdrawal yesterday afternoon.
After some discussion, during which she gave the police our bank checking account number, she hung up and turned to me. Smiling she said, “The nice police officer warned me that with your clothes gone, you might have left voluntarily and might have abandoned me. He suggested that for my own protection I close our joint accounts and open new ones in my name alone. He promised that they would work with the bank to determine where the withdrawal had been made. Aren’t they nice?”
Dinner was a steak for Janet and kibble and dog food for me. She dumped half a package of raw frozen green beans over the dog food apparently to provide the nutrients humans needed. My beverage was another bowl of the bitter lemon flavored water.
After dinner I serviced her orally while she watched television. Over the course of the evening she had me bring her off twice before finally preparing for bed. She made certain to tease me by undressing in front of me and then having me pick up her bra and panties and put them in the hamper. Of course, as a dog, I had to do this with my mouth. I hated her for treating me this way but wasn’t dumb enough to rebel and get shocked. My ‘good behavior’ did allow me to sleep in her room on the carpet more or less at the foot of the bed.
9. Monday and Tuesday
When she awoke Monday she went into the bathroom for her morning ablutions. She called me in while sitting on the toilet wiping herself dry and demanded an orgasm. While she had wiped there was an odor of urine and a bitter taste as I began servicing her. When she had shuddered through her orgasm she slipped on a robe, snapped on my leash and led me to the kitchen. She started the coffee maker but didn’t pause for breakfast. Instead she picked up my food dish and led me out to the concrete pad for my morning ablutions.
I won’t bore you with all of the details but basically it was a repeat of yesterday morning though, recognizing that she had to get to work, she reduced the time of my enema from 30 to 15 minutes.
The only other thing that was different was that while I was dripping dry and before she inserted the butt plug and my ‘tail’ she placed my dish between my knees (rear paws) and used a long thin vibrator to give me a prostate massage. “This…” she explained,”…is as close as you are going to get to sex for the rest of your miserable life. And, darling, I am going to make certain that you have a long and healthy life with nothing but frustration and servicing your mistress.”
A prostate massage causes sperm to flow out of your penis with absolutely none of the satisfying sensations of an orgasm. It feels more or less as though you are urinating but nothing like ejaculation. As a result while the material is drained from your body the sexual frustration that had been building, as she teased me and forced me to service her orally, remained as strong as it had been.
Of course, in this case the sperm fell on the dish she had positioned between my knees and covered my breakfast. I had never tasted male ejaculate before but I knew she would force me to eat the kibble and lick up any remaining cum while humiliating me as much as she could. That is exactly what happened.
After Janet had eaten her breakfast and had her fun forcing me to eat the cum covered kibble, she left for work. She reminded me to use the bathtub if I needed to urinate during the day.
The worst part of being forced to act as a dog was the mind numbing lack of intellectual stimulation. I didn’t like the beatings or the enemas or the constant tugging of the humbler. The chastity belt, the butt plug tail and Janet’s constant teasing kept me aroused and sexually frustrated. The meals were unappetizing and the bitter water was disgusting. I was losing weight and slept poorly due to the humbler. Still my biggest problem was the lack of any mental stimulation.
I had been used to dealing with bright financial people. We followed the news and tried to forecast what it would mean to our investments and what new opportunities might become more readily available. Political changes, crop forecasts, commodities prices, conflicts, religious friction, technical and industrial trends were all grist for our thought mill, often with spirited discussions of what some event or trend would mean to the future. Oh sure, sometimes our conversations were banal, discussing some celebrity scandal or sporting event. I never claimed that we were Descartes or Schopenhauer. Still, while we weren’t great philosophers, we were intelligent people with sharp minds. Now I was alone unable to speak or read. I could listen but neither the television nor radio had been turned on. It was tortuously boring.
I heard the delivery service arrive and pick up the packages and tried to call attention to my plight by banging against the front door. Unfortunately the driver either didn’t hear or didn’t care. I tried to improve my ability to go down and up the rear porch steps with slight results. Eventually I found I could jump from the porch to the ground and the soft rubber lining of my plastic paws absorbed the shock. That didn’t help with climbing the steps, however, and I was still forced to adopt an awkward sideways crab walk. Most of the day was spent curled up in my sleeping position, desperately trying to devise a workable escape plan.
When Janet came home she had me kiss her shoes and then lick her to an orgasm. After dinner (chicken, green beans, new potatoes and white wine for her; kibble, canned dog food and frozen raw vegetables and bitter lemon water for me) she enjoyed another orgasm from my tongue as she watched television and then it was bed time.
Tuesday was a repeat of Monday without the prostate massage. There was no delivery service but I heard a lawn mower as Janet had apparently hired someone to care for the yard. I didn’t even try to attract attention as the noisy lawn mower would have drowned out any banging I was able to do.
The next day seemed to be a repeat of Monday and Tuesday but after dinner Janet led me out to the shed. She opened the door and flicked on the light. I saw all of the instruments of my torment neatly hung or placed on shelves. “The police are coming tonight so I want you hidden away.” Janet said. “I’ll come and let you into the house if I’m not too tired, after they leave. This…” she said, showing me a blue plastic device, “…is the receiver for a baby monitor. I will have the nursery sending unit plugged in in the living room and you will be able to listen to what they have to say.”
I could hear the sound of the television interrupted by the doorbell around 7:30. As I listened the TV was turned off and Janet apparently went to the door. I heard muffled voices but missed out on the introductions which must have been made in the entry way. The voices became clearer as the proceeded to the living room. A male voice said “This was delivered to your husband’s boss. It apparently was sent from his office computer.”
I heard a rustle of paper as Janet took the ‘resignation letter’ and read it. “You mean he has just deserted me?” she asked.
A female voice, apparently a woman detective, said “I am afraid so. The letter suggests some marital problems. Do you agree?”
Janet answered in a sad resigned voice, “Yes, we were planning to divorce. It was supposed to be amicable. I don’t understand why he just ran away.”
The male voice said, “We have something to show you. It is an excerpt from the security disk at an airport ATM.”
There was a few minutes silence and then Janet said, “That’s him! I recognize that old leather jacket of his.”
The female detectives said, “No, that may be his jacket but look at how the shoulders slope. Someone who is much smaller than your husband is wearing his jacket. Then too look at the gloves. We feel that this is a woman trying to disguise herself as your husband.”
I smiled and would have shouted with joy if it hadn’t been for the damned shock collar. The police had seen through Janet’s disguise. In a few minutes they would force her to confess and then rescue me.
My joy was short lived when the detective continued, “We think the unknown woman is probably your husband’s girl friend or perhaps his mistress. She used his bank card to draw cash for their flight but wore a disguise so that we couldn’t identify her.”
The male joined in and said, “We searched the airport parking lot and found your husband’s car. It appears he drove himself and the woman to the airport, had her draw down some cash, and then they flew away using false identification. You know, M'am, that we can’t force someone to return against their will. This appears not to be a police matter. It seems to be more something for your lawyer and perhaps a private investigator to pursue.”
There was more but essentially the police were done and there would be no further search for me. Janet thanked the detectives and let them out. Then she came for me. She wanted to gloat at how I was no longer the object of any official inquiry. At least she led me back into the house to sleep. The concrete floor in the shed was cold and unyielding.
11. The Strap-on
And so it went, enema’s in the morning, two unappetizing meals and plenty of oral service each day. As I noted before I was bored at the lack of intellectual stimulation. Janet barely spoke to me except to humiliate me or to order me to provide oral sex. I continued to search for ways to escape but it appeared hopeless. Every scheme I devised had weak points that could result not only in my failure to escape but in Janet’s beating me.
She did hire an attorney and was quick to tell me that after six months she could file for a power of attorney that would let her control the assets that were in my name. Effectively she would then be able to dispose of the land that was in my name. In addition, the attorney told her that after a year she could file for a divorce based on my ‘desertion and abandonment’ and that it would almost certainly be granted.
I will confess that Janet, while bitchy to me, wasn’t a sadist. Oh, she didn’t hesitate to crop me if I was too slow to obey her but she didn’t seem to get any great pleasure from causing me pain. Her pleasure seemed to center more in trying to humiliate and belittle me. Janet did want instant, unquestioning, obedience and used the crop to ensure that I never hesitated to obey an order. For example there was Saturday morning when she introduced me to her new strap-on.
It was after my morning enema, washing and exchange of shock collars, that she showed it to me. A long fat dildo projected from a flat pad which had waist and thigh straps. Janet delighted in showing me how the reverse of the pad was molded with a small hump designed to move against her vaginal lips and had a protrusion to rub against her clit. She lifted the hem of her dress and pulled off her panties. Gently she positioned the pad against her clit. Once she had buckled the straps she said, “I want to make this as humiliating for you as possible. Lower your face and press a cheek to the ground.”
I guess I must have hesitated because she slashed viciously at me with the crop and screeched, “I said get down! Now, you miserable cur, or I’ll make you sorry you were born.”
I could have told her I was already sorry but as she continued to slash at me I lowered my face. I saw that she had screwed in two hooks low on the posts and strung a chain between them. When my face was down she stepped on the back of my neck to ensure I was touching the ground and did something that I couldn’t see, behind my turned face, with my leash to fix me in that position.
During our years together we had experimented and had tried anal sex. Neither of us enjoyed it very much so we had abandoned it and stuck with vaginal and oral sex (which I guess was also vaginal when I was performing it). Now Janet laughed as she pressed the dildo against me. She said “Just a husband and wife having penetrative sex. How domestic and ordinary. Do you know what they call it when the penetrator is behind the one being penetrated?”
Of course it was a rhetorical question as I couldn’t answer without activating the shock collar. Janet thrust forward penetrating me and answered her own question, “It’s called doggy style. How appropriate for my little puppy. Doggy sex!”
As she spoke she thrust further and further into me. The dildo was both longer and fatter that anything she had used before and stretched me painfully. I felt the pad and her thighs touch my butt and then she began to vigorously saw in and out. My ass was already uncomfortable from the enema and cold water rinse and the big dildo seemed to rub me raw. Eventually she managed to get gasps and moans from me. Of course that meant shocks to my neck. This went on for some time until she achieved an orgasm.
When she pulled out she picked up my normal butt plug but said, “You are so stretched out your normal plug would fall out. Let’s wait a few minutes until you close up enough to hurt when I pin the tail on the jackass. How did you like fucking with your wife, puppy? I had a great time. Let’s make it a regular weekend morning thing. It’ll just be a romantic moment between you and me. You can look forward to a good fuck session every time I don’t have to go in to work.”
Evidently my anus had closed somewhat because the still laughing Janet rammed my butt plug into me. The tail was added, I was released and led back into the house.
12. Cuckold by a Kid
Janet had hired a lawn service to mow and trim. They came every Tuesday. Usually Janet was at work and I was roaming the house when they came. I was surprised, therefore, when she called in to work and said that with no procedures scheduled she was taking a personal day. After completing the call she led me to the shed and said, “It’s very nice getting an orgasm by fucking your ass but sometimes a woman wants to feel a cock stretching her. The boy that mows our lawn gets hard when he sees me and seems to have a pretty big cock. I’m going to seduce him but don’t worry, I’ll let you listen through the baby monitor so we can share the experience and your humiliation at becoming a cuckold.”
Laughing, she closed the shed door, trapping me inside. This was even more stultifying than roaming the house. Eventually I heard the sound of the mower in front and then it became louder as he got to the back yard. I heard the mower stop and jumped when I heard Janet’s voice from behind me. Of course she was on the back porch, not behind me, but the baby monitor was on a shelf behind me. She called out, “Looks like a good job Billy. Since I’m home today, why don’t you come in and get a glass of lemonade or a coke?”
I could hear Billy respond, “OK, that would be great. Just let me get the mower loaded and I’ll be there.”
In a few minutes I could hear Billy thanking Janet for the lemonade. She made a great fuss about how sweaty he was and insisted he take a shower before he leave. Billy tried to protest but she insisted and led him to the bathroom. The baby monitor died as Janet unplugged it in the kitchen and then came back to life as she plugged it into the outlet in the bedroom. I could hear the shower running and then a muffled cry from Billy, “Hey what happened to my clothes?”
Janet replied, “Oh, I tossed them in the washing machine. It doesn’t make any sense to take a shower and then get dressed in sweaty clothes. Just wrap a towel around your waist and come on out.”
In a few minutes there was some mumbling and then Janet said, “For heaven’s sake Billy, I’m more covered up than when I go swimming. Haven’t you ever seen a woman in her underwear before?”
Evidently Janet had stripped down while Billy was in the bath because he mumbled something about how beautiful she was. She told him that her bra was uncomfortable and asked him to unfasten it. The poor kid didn’t have a chance. He was a high school student, perhaps 16 or 17. Janet was 32 and, as I have noted, very attractive and sensual.
It took no time at all for Janet to have him remover her panties, kiss her inner thighs and lick her vulva. Once she was aroused she had him roll on a condom and lie on the bed. She explained as she mounted him that this was the female superior position, sometimes called ‘riding cowgirl style.’ She explained that this allowed the woman to control both speed and depth and that his girl friends would probably enjoy this better than the missionary position. I think her descriptions and explanations were more for my sake than for Billy. She wanted to be certain I knew what was happening so that I could picture it in my mind and be further humiliated.
Poor Billy didn’t last very long. I suspect he hadn’t had much experience, certainly not with someone as sexually attractive as Janet. He tried to apologize but she told him not to move. Apparently she stripped off the condom and flushed it and then ran some water on a wash cloth. She came back to the bed and cleaned him. Apparently her hands were enough to revive him as she said, “Here’s another condom. I’ll just roll it down like this and we can try again.” Ah, the resiliency of youth!
Much moaning and grunting followed and Billy did seem to be able to last longer. Janet made all the right sounds and exclamations but whether she had an orgasm or just simulated one for my benefit I will never know. Eventually the bedroom farce ended and Billy was dressed and hustled out to his vehicle.
Janet opened the door wearing only a robe and asked, “Did you enjoy that cucky? I know I did. Still I think we will have to find some way to let you watch. I wonder if you are a true cuckold since you are no longer a husband and just a puppy dog. Oh well, let’s pretend you are a man. In any case, I really love rubbing your nose into it when someone else fucks what you can only lick.”
13. Dogs Pee Outside
It was shortly after her session with Billy that Janet decided that dogs shouldn’t urinate in the bathtub. She put me in the shed while she had a local handyman purchase and install a large pet door in the back door of the house. Then she told me to go into the back yard and lift my leg when I had to urinate.
In addition to the curved humbler preventing me from lifting my leg too far, the curved chastity belt tube held my cock between my legs, so that my urine sprayed out behind me. I found that I could actually do better by squatting to pee but Janet was very upset. “Only bitches squat to pee.” she said. “You are a dog and have to lift your leg.”
From then on if Janet saw me squat she used the remote to activate the collar and zap me. I soon learned to lift my leg when Janet was home.
It was about this time that Janet began talking to herself, damning her unfaithful S. O. B. of a husband for deserting her. She seemed to think of me not as her prisoner, but more and more as a real dog. She stopped trying to humiliate me or poke fun at me but gave simple commands as one would a dumb animal.
For example she no longer spoke to me in full sentences like “Come lick me puppy. I feel like an orgasm.” Instead she would position me in front of her crotch pulling me into place with the collar and give a one word command “Lick!”
I became increasingly worried that although she was apparently able to function more or less normally at work, she seemed to lose touch with reality at home. I was worried but there was nothing I could do about her increasing strange behavior at home.
14. Janet gets Dumped
The Tuesday sessions with Billy became a regular thing but with two changes. First Janet and Billy agreed to move their liaisons to the evening. I don’t know what Billy told his parents but each Tuesday, after dinner, I was taken to the shed and out of sight.
The second change was pure Janet. She had security cameras installed. “A poor abandoned wife, living all alone…,” she explained, “…can’t be too careful.’
Of course that’s what she said but I thought that she was really trying to humiliate me by making me watch her trysts with Billy. I didn’t, and in fact couldn’t, tell her that it didn’t work. I had grown a healthy hatred towards Janet and frankly didn’t care who she fucked. The only sexual activity I cared about was when she raped my ass every Saturday and Sunday morning. Well, that and I wished she would let me have an orgasm instead of those damn prostate massages.
I first saw the new cameras’ output when she took me the shed one Tuesday night. The shed’s one window had been covered and when she snapped off the ceiling light it was pitch dark. The only source of light was a computer screen showing four images in split screen fashion. One of the cameras was apparently at the end of the entry foyer and covered the front door. A second one had been mounted high in the kitchen and covered most of the kitchen and breakfast nook as well as the rear door. The last two cameras covered the living room and bedroom.
Of course, I know I could look away or simply close my eyes. I don’t have to watch but it was the only light source in the shed and while porn movies are boring, this was slightly more interesting as one of the players was Janet. I won’t take you through all the details but Tuesday nights settled into a routine. Billy and Janet would both strip in the bedroom. Janet then would give him a blow job, apparently to take care of his premature ejaculation problem. Then came the most interesting part of the evening: the tutorial. Janet would spend the next 30 to 45 minutes teaching Billy how to arouse a woman. He would kiss, lick, suck and nip under her direction eventually getting to oral sex. Billy probably didn’t realize it but he was getting invaluable instruction that, if he remembers and uses it, will stand him well for life.
By the time Billy gets Janet worked up, he will be hard and ready for the main event. She will roll a condom over his erection and they fuck. She seems to prefer the female superior position but they experiment with missionary, seated and, of course for my benefit, doggy positions.
This went on all summer until Billy told Janet they couldn’t meet any more. It seems he has hooked up with a girl from school. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s just…,” he said, “…that Sherry and I have agreed to only be with each other. You have a really great sexy body for an older woman and I’ve learned a lot from you. If Sherry and I ever …“
“Get out!” Janet shrieked. “Get out now” she said pushing his clothes into his hands and him out the bedroom door.
I almost laughed and would have if it hadn’t been for the damn shock collar. Of course Janet never spoke of being dumped by a teenaged boy who thought of her as an older woman. She was, however in a bitchy mood and used the riding crop viciously for the next few days. My anal rape that weekend was particularly nasty. While she never mentioned what had happened, Janet knew that her clever security set up had ensured that I witnessed her humiliation and she didn’t like that one bit.
15. Mark, the Doctor
Janet and I fell back into the mistress with a dog routine that we had been in, and gradually her mood improved, though she continued to take every opportunity to harass and try to humiliate me. I had lost all count of the days and months but it must have been September or October when things changed again. It was a Saturday evening when Janet put my dinner and water in the shed and closed me inside. On the computer screen I saw her come out of the bathroom and dress in very sexy underwear and a cocktail dress. The doorbell rang and the foyer camera showed Janet opening the door to a man she called Mark. She grabbed her coat and off they went on what was obviously a date.
The Saturday night dates with Mark became a regular thing. The progressed from going out to Janet preparing and serving dinner and on to having sex. While I couldn’t hear when they were out or in the dining room, they became less formal and often ate in the nook off the kitchen. I was privy to their conversations in the kitchen, living room and, of course, the bedroom. From these I learned that Mark was a doctor who had recently moved into town.
As their affair became more serious I began to worry. I was convinced that Janet’s treatment of me was the result of mental illness. It was too much to expect that Mark shared that illness or that he would accept her enslaving me. No, her relationship with Mark depended on Janet’s ability to keep me out of sight. As they began to discuss Mark’s moving in I became worried that a mentally unbalanced Janet might decide to do away with me.
This worry only increased when they had a long conversation about Pentobarbital. Medical conversations were not unusual between Mark the doctor and Janet the chief surgical nurse. In fact, they were pretty common, but my ears caught an unusual interest in Janet’s voice when discussing this new drug. Mark had mentioned that it had to be carefully prescribed as it was used by several states to execute condemned prisoners. Janet seemed very interested and a discussion followed about what doses were used and what constituted a lethal dose.
16. Murder Most Foul!
Things came to a head when Mark invited Janet to join him at a medical conference to be held in the Bahamas. Of course the speeches and presentations only took the morning, allowing the afternoons and evenings for ‘exchange of ideas between colleagues’. That, Mark explained, generally meant golf, deep sea fishing, or card games in the bar. He told Janet that if she went they would have plenty of time to visit the beaches and enjoy good meals and other things in their room. Surprisingly Janet refused, making up what seemed like a lame excuse that the divorce hadn’t been finalized. Apparently sex at home was OK but she didn’t want to travel with Mark before the divorce was granted. Mark tried to convince her but Janet was adamant.
I was increasingly worried when, on the Friday that Mark left for the Bahamas, Janet returned home early with a large veterinarian’s syringe and a bottle marked Pentobarbital. Apparently Janet hadn’t thought that I had paid attention when they had discussed the deadly new drug. Of course it could be that her mental problems were so extensive that she didn’t think that a dog could understand her conversations or could read the label on the bottle.
Janet puzzled me by spending the afternoon probing with a shovel in the back yard. At least I was puzzled until I saw her stop and start digging. I realized that she had been looking for, and was now uncovering, an old unused septic tank.
Several years ago we had some problems with our septic field. Rather than dig up the back yard we decided to pay the connection fee and connect the house to the county’s then new sanitary sewer. It was not only less expensive than repairing the septic system, it was a longer term solution. At the time we didn’t bother removing the large concrete septic tank. This was a rectangular vault with a man sized hatch for periodic cleaning.
I realized that it would be the perfect place to dispose of a body… my body. If Janet injected me with a fatal dose of the Pentobarbital she could just roll the body through the hatch and then cover it over with dirt and grass seed. It was clear to me that Janet was planning to do just that.
I watched as Janet filled the large syringe and then snapped the leash on my collar. I tried to resist but Janet just whipped my feet until I moved forward. As we headed toward the back yard she casually said, “I know I said I would keep you for many years but things have changed. Mark is thinking of moving in and I don’t think he would like to have my doggy running around.”
Well, in my own mind, I had been pretty certain that Janet was planning to kill me and hide the body in the unused septic tank. Any lingering doubts were now gone. Janet was clearly planning to kill me and if I was to live I had to take some sort of action, no matter how risky the plan was. When your choices are between slim and none, the slim chance seems much better than the alternative.
One of the half baked escape plans I had devised was to trip Janet and then crush her larynx while she was down. Then I would figure out how to summon help. Unfortunately I had never devised a fool proof way to trip her and then get her on her back so I could use an elbow to crush her larynx.
Janet started down the steps and I decided that no better opportunity was going to present itself. I hung back as far as the leash would allow and then galloped forward and launched myself at her back. I had hoped to hit her between her shoulder blades but the actual contact was nearer the small of her back.
It made no difference. I had lost weight under Janet’s kibble diet but must have still weighed 180-190 pounds. Further pure luck had me crash into her when she had one foot on a step and the other in the air. We both crashed to the ground but I had been expecting the impact while it caught Janet by surprise. While she was disoriented I scrambled up and aimed an elbow at the back of her neck.
I was trying for a knock out rabbit punch delivered just at the base of her skull. Unfortunately I was an investment banker not some iteration of James Bond. My blow didn’t knock Janet unconscious as I had hoped. It did, however push her head down banging her nose on the paved walkway. The pain caused her to turn her head sideways and I leapt with both elbows (front paws) against her temple using my weight to push her head down and banging against the walkway.
I repeated this three times and managed to render her, at least for the moment, unconscious. I was realizing that there was no way that I could gain enough leverage to roll her over so I could attack her throat when I saw the syringe lying in the grass where she had dropped it. I raced over and grasped the barrel in my mouth.
As I turned back I could see that Janet, while dazed and groggy, had regained consciousness. She had her hands flat on the ground and was pushing her shoulders up. I raced back with the deadly syringe in my mouth. It was obvious that I wasn’t going to have time to locate a vein. I swung my head sideways and down shoving the needle into Janet’s buttock. Then releasing the barrel I used my forehead to drive the plunger down injecting the chemical into her.
Of course I had no way of knowing if the chemicals would work when injected intramuscularly rather than into a vein. Janet seemed to be OK as she pushed herself upright on one knee. She brought her other foot forward and began to stand. I was desperate and running at her to knock her down again when it happened. Janet’s legs simply collapsed and she fell forward banging her face in the grass next to the path. I watched as her breathing became labored and shallow. After a few minutes I couldn’t see any signs of movement at all.
I had killed her. It didn’t feel good. Oh, it was in self defense and she was clearly mad as the proverbial hatter, but it didn’t feel good. For a while I just stood there catching my breath. I don’t really know what I was thinking. Perhaps I was hoping she would recover but that would have just meant my death so I couldn’t really be wishing for that. Eventually I realized I had to find a way to call for help or I would simply starve.
I went back through the pet door and into the kitchen. Off to one side was the laundry room with a door to the garage. I couldn’t open the garage door, of course, but my objective was the table we used to sort clothes for the laundry. Janet had a habit of dropping her purse on the table so it would be handy when she next went out. It took several minutes to pull the table away from the wall and tip it over. Using an elbow to hold the purse, I used my mouth to open it and then to dump out the contents.
I pawed (pun intended) through the contents and found her telephone. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to use a telephone without hands? I was able to activate it by touching my nose to the screen but then it was trial and error as I tried to scroll through to her telephone application. Eventually I got it open, dialed the emergency number and nosed the call button.
As I listened to it dial I remembered all of the horror stories I had heard about low paid clerks and hoped I could somehow get through to the person on the other end. I heard the ringing stop and a woman’s voice said “This is emergency services. What is the nature of your emergency?”
I banged the dryer twice. I could hear her talking to someone else. She said, “Hey listen in on line 3. Someone is making some sort of noise but no direct response.”
“Is it some kids?” another voice asked.
“Listen…,” the first voice said, “…it is a crime to tie up the emergency line. I have your address here on my screen and if this is a prank you and your parents are going to have a hefty fine to pay.”
I banged the dryer again.
The second voice said, “It sure sounds like someone is there. Let have a patrol drop by and check it out.”
Basically she kept me on the line until I heard a banging on the front door. I raced, well as fast as I could on all fours, to the door and banged into it. I heard the officer say to his partner, “There is someone or something here. Why don’t you go around back and see if you can see anything.”
I went back for the pet door and had almost reached it when I heard a different voice with an Irish accent say, “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph. You better get back here. There’s a body lying out here.”
I pushed through the pet door, apparently startling the second officer, as he spun around and dropped into a crouch as he pulled his pistol and aimed it at me. “Freeze!” he shouted, “Don’t move a muscle.”
Then he talked into a shoulder mike as he said “Get back here right quick. Things are getting weird and there’s some naked guy in some sort of bondage rig.”
I remained frozen on the porch and couldn’t help think of how ironic it would be to be shot by my rescuers. In the end his partner showed up and sent the junior man to call for detectives, a forensic crew, a hearse from the county coroner’s office (the cop called it ‘a meat wagon’) and an ambulance for me.
It all took some time. Of course I couldn’t respond to either officer’s questions and they seemed to think I was some sort of pervert. The senior cop wouldn’t let the younger one release me from any of the bondage until after the detectives arrived and had photographed me from all angles and both ends.
When they took off the collar, I found that my vocal cords had also atrophied. I managed to whisper enough to give them the gist of what had happened all those months ago as well as what happened this afternoon. The ambulance crew removed the tape and the humbler and cut off the chastity device. I was placed in a gurney but strapped to the side and taken to the hospital.
I was eventually able to expand my story while in the hospital. At first there was considerable skepticism. Strangely enough the missing persons report did quite a bit to convince them. My description of the conversation regarding the missing persons report was verified by the detectives who had visited that Wednesday. My limbs were shrunken and atrophied testifying to the length of time I had been in bondage. Janet was dead, but the Pentobarbital bottle clearly came from her hospital and I certainly couldn’t have dug up the septic tank in my condition. The contents of the shed also supported my story.
The police were very thorough. They did an inventory of the hospital drugs and found that Janet had been falsifying records covering both the Pentobarbital and the curare she had stolen earlier. They tracked down both Billy and Mark and got their stories. In the end the district attorney decided that there was no crime to prosecute.
During most of this time I was in the hospital building up my strength. My recovery took months and included painful physical therapy. It was very expensive and, as it turned out, I had no insurance. Mine had ended 60 days after I left the bank and Janet’s had never covered me. I hired an attorney, however, and the hospital, which wanted to avoid a lawsuit over their lax drug records and the behavior of their employee, agreed to a settlement that covered all my medical costs as well as a substantial cash payout.
Janet had sold off much of my land but the civil court awarded me all of her funds both as her heir and in damages. Her parents tried to fight that, as there are laws that prevent perpetrators of a crime from benefiting from the crime. In this case, however, though I killed her, there was no crime. As a result they had no success. I did allow them to recover her trust fund, though they had little legal standing. I didn’t think they were responsible for Janet’s behavior and they were elderly and needed the cash.
And that was the end of my life as a dog.
Copyright© 2014 by Sir Richard. All rights reserved.