Jason hated the latex body suit. He hated it. He the unyielding tightness that constricted almost every single inch of his body. He hated the inescapable smell of it, and the leather ‘paws’ at the end of the arms that kept his hands useless. But most of all he hate hate hated the sound it made when it rubbed against itself, which happened almost any time he moved.
It wasn’t the only miserable thing about the situation. Not by a long shot. Jason’s life had definitely taken a turn for the absolutely terrible. But the latex was probably the worst, because it was the one thing that was always there. The cage was for night and punishment times, the gag wasn't in his mouth in the early mornings, and they unbound his limbs to stretch them out a few times a day. Even the cock cage came off on a semi-regular basis. But there was no break from the latex suit that covered Jason head to toe, day in and day out. The only parts of Jason’s body that were uncovered were his eyes, the area around his mouth, and the little hole that let his caged cock hang out.
The only time they took him out of it was to wash him, and they always knocked him out first. He would just wake up in the cage, dressed in another latex body suit. Or the same suit. It was hard to tell. They all felt the same from the inside.
These were the thoughts that were passing through Jason’s head as he woke up one morning. His cage—or his kennel, as the rich bitch who ‘owned’ him called it—was kept in one of the basement rooms. There was a small window up in one quarter, but it was usually tinted too darkly to let any light through. Low night lights kept the room from being pitch dark. Inside the cage was a food bowl, containing nutrient slop that wasn’t literally dog food, but fulfilled the same purpose. He used his tongue to shovel as much of it into his mouth as he could, taking care not to use his hands in case any leftovers stuck to the paws. There was also a water bottle attached to the corner. It was more like a hamster’s cage than a dog’s so he wouldn’t accidentally knock it over in the night.
With eyes well-adjusted to the dim light, Jason checked to see if there was anything new. Nope. The same rows of bondage equipment lined the walls like they always did. Off to Jason’s side were other cages. Three of them. He had only ever seen one of them in use apart from his. That one was for the household’s other puppy slave. But she spent most nights with her owner, who was the early twenty-something daughter of Jason’s owner. The other two cages were empty in the months Jason had been here.
There was no way for the young man to tell time, so he passed it by stretching as much as he could. The sounds of the latex stretching with him grated on his ears and there wasn’t any room for him to move out as he would like to, but he kept at it.
Less time than usual passed before the fluorescent lights of the room were switched on. Jason blinked at the sudden brightness, then steeled himself for what was about to happen. The door at the other end of the room opened right as his eyes adjusted to the new light.
Jason let out a yippy little “aaarf!” and made himself act like an excitable puppy, as he was supposed to. But when he saw it was Basima that had come this morning, he stopped the act and slumped in his cage.
It was the maids who got Jason ready every morning. Slave maids in constant bondage. Chains on every limb; white corsets, miniskirts, and heels to accentuate their black rubber body suits. Panel gags that doubled as masks.
Jason envied them.
Sure, they were bound up and gagged all day, but at least they could walk on two legs. Hell, at least they could stretch their legs whenever they wanted to. Walking on their high heels seemed tough, but it had to be better than walking on your knees, right? Even their rubber body suits left their heads free, covering them neck to toe while Jason’s latex suit covered him head to toe.
To Jason’s shame and discomfort, his confined cock still stiffened at the sight of a maid. That rubber was more flattering than it had any right to be.
The very first time Jason saw it was another tied up captive, he thought their ‘owners’ were idiots, that they’d given him the perfect opportunity to escape. It hadn’t been hard to knock the maid with curly brunette hair away and make a break for it. But the slaves, maids and puppies alike, were kept in the basement. All the doors to the upstairs were locked from the outside, and none of the windows were large enough to crawl through. Not even for a short, skinny guy like Jason. The handlers got him back under control pretty quick. And once they did, ‘Mommy’ had strolled in and delivered one of her hellish punishments on the maid instead of on Jason.
”New puppies need the utmost care to learn their place. Anyone who is unable to handle Baxter at this delicate stage will be severely disciplined.”
The maid, hooded and hanging upside down from the sealing, could only moan and scream as the middle-aged woman who had taken control of Jason’s life and her daughter Samantha flogged her bare ass in the air. Samantha’s delighted laughter was the only thing louder than the maid’s cries.
Jason learned his lesson. He hadn’t tried to escape one of the maids since.
The next lesson had come the day after that, when he didn’t bother pretending to be a dog for that maid, a blonde. She’d been punished for ‘confusing the new puppy’ when Mommy asked her if he’d barked and romped like a dog should and she shook her head no.
Jason whimpered at the sight of both women in their stockades. Their assess weren’t bright red anymore, but they’d both been stuck in those things all day long.
“Baxter, heel,” the woman commanded. For once Jason didn’t growl or scowl when she called him Baxter. He followed at her side as she walked past the two naked maids. She wasn’t going to say that she would punish other slaves if he didn’t act as she wanted him to, that would require treating him like a person. But the message was clear.
So Jason started acting like a dog for each of the maids too. He didn’t want anyone else to suffer because of him. And even if he wasn’t, Mommy made sure they had a spray bottle to use if he acted ‘confused’ again. Just like a real misbehaving dog. The blonde and brunette maids used it a lot.
This maid was different for two reasons. The first was that she was not gagged. The other three maids who handled Jason were, but she was one of the slave maids who behaved well enough to go without it.
The second difference was that she was nice. She was middle eastern, with naturally tan skin. Her hair went down to her shoulders, and she had a cute little button nose. Basima prepared Jason once or twice a week. At first, she had handled him just like the other maids had until a month or so had passed. When Jake barked at her, she went down to her knees and whispered.
“You don’t have to do this with me, she’s not asking anymore.”
Basima was a break. She tied him up and finished the dog parts of his costume like the other maids, but she didn’t spray him when he didn’t play along. She didn’t pet him or make cooing noises as ordered. She was the only person in this whole fucking mansion that still treated him like a human being.
“Hello Jason,” she said as she came up to the cage and opened the door. There was a slight accent to her voice, a faint British lilt mixed with something else. That and the precise, grammatically correct way she spoke English made Jason think it was her second language before she confirmed it.
“Hey Basima,” he whispered back. That was the extent of their conversation. They’d tried to talk for longer at first, but they kept lulling into silence until they stopped trying. They still told each other a few things, like that Jason was from Wisconsin or that Basima’s name meant “a smile.” But for the most part, they simply enjoyed each other’s company. Just the knowledge that they could speak if they wanted to helped them both.
The first thing she did when Jason crawled out of the cage was check his food and water. When she was satisfied that he ate and drank enough, she wiped his face of any lingering mush. Then she (reluctantly) gagged him and pulled his mask on, a black leather dog snout with attached ears that went on over his face. Once it was on Jason shook his head a little, to make sure it wouldn’t fall off. After that came the knee-high leather boots, with high heels that had never touched the ground. Between those and Jason’s naturally slim body, he’d been legitimately mistaken for a flat chested girl by one of Mommy’s guests. The next step was the leather sheaths that frogtied both of Jason’s legs were laced on, followed by the attaching of a leash to his collar. The final step was to head off to the little bathroom and take care of any lingering business left over from the night. Once that was done, Basima gently inserted Jason's 'tail,' easing it in as carefully as she could. The last step was to take care of any lingering business left over from the night. The whole process probably took half an hour.
Then it was time for the morning walk.
Basima led Jason out of the kennel room and up the stairs. As soon as they left the room, Jason resumed his act, yipping and bouncing as much as his gag and his bondage would allow. A lone handler on the other side of the door let them though, giving the middle eastern maid ass a quick smack as she and the puppy slave made their way through the house. Jason barely noticed the change in his surroundings anymore. At first the rapid shift from bare bunker walls and hard floors to the richly carpeted opulent mansion as he came upstairs from the basement was shocking. Now it was routine.
Jason pulled ahead of Basima as they got closer to one of the back doors, playing his role as he was supposed to. “Aaarf!” he called out. “Aaarf! Arf!” He was supposed to be a dog. He had to be excited to go outside. The leash was just long enough to let him good a good jump or two at the door in before Basima reached the handle and opened it.
It was early morning, the light of the sun orange as it was beginning to peak out for the first time and signal the start of the day. That was intentional. Wherever they were in the world, it was hot out during the daytime. Too hot for much physical activity in a full body black latex suit. Jason’s walks were when the temperature wouldn’t risk heatstroke, otherwise he was kept inside the air-conditioned mansion all day.
There was a set path outside. Concrete. A walking path meant for people to stroll through the grounds. It made for a nice little woodland tour, as the grounds included enough trees and foliage to double for a small forest. The path was also useful for ensuring Jason wouldn’t damage or dirty his gear too much as he was walked. He was still expected to bark after squirrels and other critters, but he had been trained not to get too far away from the path.
Jason sighed.
He might take this path a second time, later in the day, with the middle-aged woman whose name was Lydia Greenwood and called herself Mommy around Jason. But she wouldn’t use a leash, she would expect him to behave himself, and he would. Anything to avoid one of her punishments.
”Bad dog!” the woman yelled as she rained down harsh blows. “Bad dog!”
She kept it up for what seemed like forever. Jason barely noticed when it finally stopped. Not until she was kneeling down, petting him. Massaging the spots where she had hit him with the heavy crop and were undoubtedly red beneath the black latex. It felt good. Too good.
“Poor Baxter,” she said with sympathy that didn’t sound as fake as it should. “Mommy doesn’t enjoy disciplining you, but it has to be done. You need to learn how to behave.” She snapped her fingers, and one of the few supervisors—the slaves who trusted enough to remain unbound—came over and curtsied.
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Baxter will wear a dildo gag to bed tonight.”
“Mmmmph!?”
“He will be stringently hogtied, and blindfolded. And he will go without dinner tonight.”
“Very good, Mistress.”
Jason’s wail was quieted by a hard spank to his rump.
The mansion was in sight again, no longer hidden by the trees and bushes. Jason started up his act, finding himself a little more energetic after his minutes of humanness. The heeled footsteps quickened just behind him as Basima picked up her pace to keep up.
When they rounded the last corner, Jason’s heart skipped a beat. His act slipped for a second at the sight of Jason’s’ owner and her daughter—Lydia and Samantha Greenwood—resting comfortably on the patio. Then his brain started working, and he started yapping excitedly, as dogs did when they caught sight of their owners.
Mother and daughter were beautiful, as many women of their wealth and station were. Not enormously so, but they had the time to work out and the money to get work done if needed (and Jason was confident that Lydia had). There was a strong resemblance. Samantha shared her mother’s brown hair (though she kept hers shorter) and body type. They were both of average height and fit. Samantha was wearing a morning robe, her pajamas on underneath. Her mother was ready for the day, wearing stylish white pants and a jacket. She had on a whole outfit, with shoes and some jewelry and everything. Apparently she’d been up for some time.
“Baxter, come!” Lydia called out. It was as much a command to Basima to let go of the leash as it was for Jason to come. He felt no resistance at his neck as he bounded forward to the woman’s seat on the patio. Inwardly though, he was terrified. She was usually asleep at this hour. Why was she up? Why was her daughter up? Jason stumbled a bit when he got close enough to see her smirk, but he regained his composure quickly.
Lydia began patting Jason’s head as he came to her side on the luxurious patio seat. Samantha sat across from her. Her own puppy slave was not present, probably because she was always kept naked and the morning air was too chilly for that.
“Good boy. Now heel.” Lydia unclipped his leash and stood up. Jason followed at her side as she marched towards Basima. By now she was standing at the edge of the patio. The puppy boy’s heartbeat sped up with each step. A sinking feeling settled deep into his stomach as his worry grew.
Basima stood at attention as the Mistress of the Greenwood Household drew close. Jason could see the terror in her eyes as she stood frozen.
Lydia briefly inclined her head toward Jason. “Sit,” she commanded. Jason sat, resting on his knees with his hands to the ground. He let his tongue hang out of his mouth and panted. Then his owner reached her hand underneath Basima’s miniskirt. The middle eastern woman whimpered, her eyes darting between her mistress and Jason, and then to the small object Lydia pulled out. It was round, bigger and thicker than a quarter. And half of it was covered with that little net-like black material that meant it was...
“This,” Lydia declared, “Is a microphone. I had it attached to your chastity belt yesterday.”
Jason’s eyes widened. He stopped panting without meaning to. His head swiveled around. He saw for the first time the small speaker resting on the table. Samantha’s smirk took on a new level of menace. When he swiveled back he saw Basima’s mouth open and close, too well trained to stammer out an apology.
“You’ve been horribly cruel to my little Baxter this morning, haven’t you maid? Confusing the poor dear like you were. And I know this isn’t the first time.”
“Oo! Ueaghe heu auone! Hueahe!” Jason begged.
“You see?” Lydia demanded. Her hand came to rest on Jason’s head, a reminder to behave. “Listen! Does that sound like a healthy puppy to you? You’ve set his training back weeks! Maybe even longer, and the show is less than three months away!”
A distant part of Jason’s mind noted the word ‘show,’ which he hadn’t heard before. The rest of him laser focused on what was happening. He stopped trying to talk and went back to panting. There was no sense in making this any worse for Basima than it already was.
Basima seemed to have the same thought. She rooted her eyes firmly to Lydia’s feet, practically bowing her head in submission. The mistress grabbed her by the chin and wrenched it up until she could look the enslaved woman in the eye.
There was a long, silent moment as Lydia inspected her slave. Jason kept up his panting as he stared with wide eyes and saw to his shock that Mommy’s gaze began to soften, ever so slightly.
“Report to my rooms. I’ll be along to deal with you later, after I’ve assessed how much damage you’ve done this morning. Go!” She snapped her fingers and pointed at the house. Basima, with unbelieving surprise written all over her face, obeyed without hesitation and without changing a glance at Jason.
Basima moved as fast as her fettered ankles allowed her into the house. Samantha swatted her with a light kick when she passed the young woman. The maid stumbled but didn’t fall. “Stupid bitch,” Samantha said before Basima disappeared into the mansion. Then she turned to her mother. “And here I thought you were going to smack her around right here and now. In fact, I’m disappointed you didn’t. I was looking forward to helping you with her. Are you getting soft, mother?”
Lydia gave Jason a light pat on the head to herd him forward. “Of course not.” She was deep in thought.
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Right, sorry. I guess I know what you being so nice to the bitch really means.” Her attention turned to Jason then, who fell into a sitting position just as Lydia sat back down. “Do you know why Mommy’s being so nice Baxter?” she asked in a sing song puppy voice. “Well? Do you have any idea why that mean maid that made you think you were a person didn’t get what was coming to her just now?”
“That’s enough, Samantha. Baxter, up.” She patted her lap. Jason crawled up onto the patio couch and laid his head and hands down on the spot she had indicated. He made a vague whining sound as she petted him, running her hand down his neck. “I’ll decide what to do with the maid later, after I’ve put Baxter through his paces. I’m going to have to spend extra time with him in the coming days.”
Jason shivered in her lap.
“Uh-huh.” Samantha reclined further into her lounge chair. “So what are you going to name the new dog?”
Jason’s head shot up. New dog? What? Someone new was going to enter this hell?
Samantha wrinkled her nose. “I thought I was your princess.”
Lydia laughed. That’s what your father calls you, not me.”
“It still sounds like too good a name for a dog.”
“Not everyone is satisfied by calling their animal ‘dumb bitch,’ all the time, honey. Princess is a fitting name. After all, she does have a pedigree.”
A terrible thought occurred to Jason. He tried not to think of it as the day wore on. As his owner Lydia Greenwood put him through an especially grueling training session. As she handed him off to the blonde maid, who fed him and helped him do his business. And as the day came to an end and Jason was put under for his nightly bath.
Jason woke up groggy the next morning. Too groggy to think clearly. At first he thought he was still dreaming when he saw the kennel next to him was occupied. He spent some time looking the new dog over, feeling sorry for her as he took in her appearance.
She didn’t wear a full body suit, like Jason did. And she wasn’t naked, like Samantha’s ‘dumb bitch,’ was. Instead she wore a leather leotard with a built-in corset. It was bright red and did nothing to contain her breasts, which spilled out freely.
It wasn’t until he saw the microphone attached to his cage that Jason was shaken fully awake. He looked back to the other cage. Basima, Mommy's new puppy Princess, began to stir.
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