Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, non-consensual, F/f, lesdom, puppy slave, petplay, kidnapped, sexual slavery, bondage slavery
Cupcake didn’t want to go for a walk. Summer was almost over, the temperature was dropping, and Cupcake was naked. Practical light knee pads, the paw shaped gloves that made her hands useless, the leather bands keeping her legs folded up, and a collar did not count as clothes. Baxter’s latex bitchsuit and Princess’s corset didn’t really count as clothes either, but Cupcake envied them both because she only ever went naked. Even a light breeze on an otherwise warm summer night was enough to make her shiver, and that was exactly what was going to happen if she went for a walk.
But Cupcake’s owner wanted to take one of her puppies on a walk. And since Baxter and Princess had already been put to bed for the night, Cupcake was the only one available.
So when the door opened, Cupcake darted out of the mansion as quickly as her bound up legs and uselessly gloved hands allowed. She didn’t go straight to the walking path. First she wandered around the patio area, sniffing anything that looked new or out of place and yipping with feigned delight as she did so. Thankfully there wasn’t a gag in her mouth to make it more difficult to sound like a dog.
God. What would people who knew Cecily Lockheed think if they could see Cupcake now? The only thing that was the same was her eyes, big and brown. Other than that, Cupcake’s formerly long dark hair now barely fell past her chin, she was more tan in the summer and more in the winter than she had ever been when she was free, and she was always nude and on all fours instead of walking in nice clothes with her head held high.
She shook her head. This wasn’t the time to think about that. Cupcake had to focus. She was a dog, always a dog. Especially when Mrs. Greenwood was watching her. And since Princess and Baxter weren’t around to share her attention, she had to be especially careful to make sure the act didn’t slip up.
“Cupcake, heel!”
At that sharp command Cupcake whipped her head up and dashed over to walk near her owner.
Mrs. Greenwood cut a glamorous figure as she strode forward next to her pet puppy slave. She and her husband had come home early from some kind of high class social event and she was still wearing a gorgeous silver sequin dress. It glittered in the moonlight. Her long brown hair cascaded elegantly over her bare left shoulder, while the other shoulder was covered by the sash-like sleeve that covered most of her upper right arm. She had ditched her low heels in favor of comfortable slip-on walking shoes that were a better fit for the Greenwood Estate’s paved dog walking path. They poked out of her long dress as she walked.
‘Heel’ normally meant that Cupcake should walk beside her owner, half a step back. Mrs. Greenwood’s puppies were not to go ahead of her and always had to match her pace. All the dogs were thoroughly trained to obey those rules when they heard the heel command from their owner. The only exception was when they were out for a walk. Then they only had to stay close to her.
So Cupcake went ahead a bit, still sniffing things, still acting as though she was a dog instead of a human being. Mrs. Greenwood’s pace slowed as they traveled farther down the path, and Cupcake could feel the weight of her eyes as she performed her role. Mrs. Greenwood never got tired of watching her puppies be puppies.
Since the walkway was paved, Cupcake tried to stay off it as much as she reasonably could. Even with the knee pads and the padded paw mitts, concrete was more difficult to walk on than the soft ground. But she had to stay on the pavement for part of the walk, otherwise she risked getting too dirty and would have to be cleaned off before… Well, there was a chance Cupcake would be sleeping at the foot of her owner’s bed tonight.
The puppy slave also wanted to stay warm, so she had to keep moving. It wasn’t as chilly as she thought it might be, but there was more than one light summer breeze. Cupcake wouldn’t be too bothered by it as long as she kept moving.
All in all, the evening walk was going well. Mrs. Greenwood hadn’t spoken since commanding Cupcake to heel. No reprimands or corrections yet, so Cupcake knew she was doing well. It was a true relief. The last thing she wanted was to earn her owner’s displeasure this late into the night.
It wasn’t until they were halfway done with the walk when Mrs. Greenwood spoke again.
“It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it Cecily?”
Cupcake—not Cecily, she hadn’t thought of herself as Cecily in months—froze. Her ungagged mouth fell open. The chill running down her spine wasn’t from the breeze, and she put no more thought to resisting a shiver as she twisted on all fours to look at her owner.
Mrs. Greenwood was completely at ease, looming above Cupcake with folded arms.
She was smiling.
That satisfied little smirk on Mrs. Greenwood's face was half hidden by the nighttime darkness, but still visible thanks to the lights lining the man-made path. It was a terrifying sight to the doe-eyed little puppy slave at her feet. Cupcake’s entire body shook as she stared back, too frozen by fear and uncertainty to move in any other way.
The woman who owned Cupcake wasn’t really that tall. Her actual height was pretty average. She only seemed tall to someone who was forced to live on all fours like a dog. To Cupcake, who had never reached average height even when she was allowed to be a person, Mrs. Greenwood towered above her. Everyone did, but it was different with Mrs. Greenwood, the clear matriarch of her evil family. Mr. Greenwood was intimidating, but content to let his wife run the household. And Samantha, the vile bitch who used to own Cecily? She was a different kind of terrifying. Unpredictable and cruel, but mercurial and easily distracted.
It was Mrs. Greenwood who had the idea to kidnap her daughter’s academic “rival” Cecily Lockheed as a demented birthday present (Cecily hadn’t even known Samantha saw her like that in school!). The kidnappers sent to collect Cecily snatched her at home, while her own parents and older brothers were gone, and got her to her new owners within twenty-four hours. Those first days and weeks when a shocked and confused Cecily would try to first reason with, and then beg her captors for freedom had been… they were… Cupcake didn’t like to think about that time.
“Ha! You silly, stupid little bitch. Dogs don’t talk!”
“Not so smart now, huh? This is what you get for being so stuck up all the time!”
“Bark for me, slut. Come on! You can do it! Especially if you don’t want to get punished!”
When more than a year of captivity passed and Samantha had mostly lost interest in mocking and tormenting her terrorized pet, it was her mother who decreed with exasperation that Cecily would belong to her instead. Cupcake could still remember the tornado of horror and hope that twisted up her insides when she learned about the change in ownership.
Finally, it was Mrs. Greenwood who decided the captive Cecily would be given a new name. Cupcake. It was a testament to her authority that Cupcake had never once tried to think of herself by any other name since. She was even grateful! It was an improvement over the endless insults Samantha used to bombard her with every day. Being called Cupcake, demeaning as it was, was better than being called a ‘stupid bitch’ or a ‘worthless slut’ over and over again.
Cupcake was so shamefully grateful that she responded by being the best puppy she could be. She barked, yipped, and growled like a real dog. She sniffed at everything, played games like fetch with enthusiastic energy, and nuzzled her owner with the closest thing to affection she could muster up. Cupcake was so well behaved, so good at following Mrs. Greenwood’s inescapable rules, that she was almost never even gagged anymore.
Why was Mrs. Greenwood ignoring her own rule now? She frequently chastised her husband for using his pet slaves’ real names or talking to them like they were still people. Cupcake had never seen or heard anything like it from her before. Not with Baxter, Princess, or Cupcake herself. She didn’t have the slightest idea what her fellow puppies’ original names were, and doubted she ever would. If they knew hers it was because Samantha had let it slip, not her mother.
Mrs. Greenwood kept talking, happily paying no attention her captive’s obvious distress.
“This is my favorite time of year, you know. Right when the summer months start to shift to fall. Spring is nice too, but so much more wet.” She stopped looking at Cupcake and instead looked up to the starry night sky and the magnificent view of the moon it offered. Cupcake kept her eyes where they were, fixed firmly on her owner. Blood rushed and roared in her ears, making everything but her ragged breaths and Mrs. Greenwood’s commanding voice impossible to hear.
Cruelty was alight in Mrs. Greenwood’s eyes when she looked back down Cupcake, who was immediately reminded of her previous owner. Samantha Greenwood was the child of both her parents.
“What do you think, Cecily? If memory serves, you used to enjoy the winter the most. You were an avid skier, weren’t you? But something tells me you prefer the summer heat now, given the way you keep shaking. That’s right, I can see shivering. Well don’t you worry your pretty little head. Soon enough we’ll be back inside and you can be nice and warm again.”
Cecily—Cupcake—kept staring. Mrs. Greenwood was speaking to her! In full sentences! She was talking to her like she was a human being and not a dog. Even reminding her of a time when their families encountered each other on a ski trip. This never happened. Ever! Cupcake couldn’t remember a single time when her owner ever acted like she was a person. Samantha used to talk to Cupcake all the time. But Mrs. Greenwood? She only ever spoke to Cupcake, Princess, or Baxter like the dogs she forced them to be.
Then, abruptly, Cupcake understood.
The difference between mother and daughter was not that Lydia was less sadistic than Samantha, it was that she was more precise in applying that sadism. Mrs. Greenwood didn’t hit her slaves with a torrent of violent smacks, kicks, and vicious insults. She controlled them, made them bend to her every rule and whim, and then attacked them psychologically instead of physically.
This wasn’t a lapse of judgment. Mrs. Greenwood wasn’t trying something new, or coming around to her husband’s behavior, or relaxing ironclad rules.
It was a test.
“Ruff,” Cupcake said as if she were a dog and couldn’t understand her owner’s words.
Mrs. Greenwood’s smirk grew. Cupcake’s body was wracked with a new round of shivers.
“Good girl, Cupcake. There’s a good girl.” The freestanding woman gracefully lowered herself to give her captive pet a gentle pat on the head, which soon turned to scratches behind the ear and then a full body pet down her back. Her dress brushed against the puppy’s arm.
Cupcake used to freeze and shrink away from Mrs. Greenwood’s touch when she first took possession of her from Samantha, who had only ever hit and kicked Cupcake. Or dragged her pet around by the hair. By now Cupcake was desensitized to her current owner’s touch. Having her head pat, ear scratched, or back petted like this. She even leaned into it like a dog would, as was expected of her. It helped that, in spite of her strict discipline, Mrs. Greenwood was nearly always gentle when she physically touched her pets. She had people to deliver her punishments for her. Other slaves, mostly.
“Veeery good girl. I was starting to get worried for you, sweetie,” continued Mrs. Greenwood. Someone listening in might miss the mocking edge to her tone and think she was talking to a real dog, but for Cupcake it was impossible to miss. “It took you so long to respond to the sound of my voice that I was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with your hearing. I was almost ready to call the vet!”
Cupcake’s breath hitched at the thought of the insane ‘vet’ her owner brought in to check on her now and again, but she managed to cover it by dropping her tongue from her mouth, panting a bit, and making the sound of a low doggy whine. She got the message. Dogs reacted right away. They didn’t stare at their owners like a shocked human, no matter what words they spoke. At most they tilted their heads or didn’t respond at all to unfamiliar words. Cupcake had to react the same way, even if someone talked to her in full sentences, because Cupcake was a dog. After all, a real dog would bark if you asked it about the weather.
It took everything Cupcake had not to break down, but she managed it. “W-woof,” she mumbled out.
“Poor baby, you sound tired.” Mrs. Greenwood gave her one last pet on the head and stood. “Don’t worry, our walk is almost done and then you can get some rest. I just want to stop by the stables and talk to my husband first. You’ll get to say hello to your pony friends! Doesn’t that sound like fun? I’ll even let you sleep in my room tonight, and you can have a nice yummy treat before bed!”
No prize for guessing what kind of ‘treat’ Cupcake could expect to be eating. She let her tongue droop out of her mouth again, both to pant and to let her owner know that she understood.
Mrs. Greenwood’s smile widened as looked her well-trained puppy slave dead in the eyes.
“Good girl.”
Previous dog walks: