Part 7: The Summer House Pooch 2
I ran away again as instructed in my pooch persona, down the old path that I knew so well that lead to the pond, but I didn't feel like a swim at the moment. When we were younger that pond felt like an ocean, but truth be told it wasn't very deep or wide, and we also learned as kids that shallow ponds are actually quite warm. The sand that was brought in by the truckload kept the slimy green things at bay on the swim side of the pond that also thrive in warm water, a tiny stream feeding the pond during the springtime keeping it somewhat clean. There was also a rope swing to jump out into the water from an old willow tree, although climbing up it high enough in bare feet to swing out far enough to make it worth while a challenge. Once in the warm water it was a short swim to a massive boulder in the center of the pond, we girls using it for some private sunning over the years as the flattest part of it faces away from the beach. All in all a paradise on any other visit, but on this one things were different.
Curiosity demanded I find out what the girls were doing in my absence though, I already bored with nothing to do and having second thoughts on the leisure life of a pooch, as well as feeling quite naked and exposed even though we were all alone there. We had been told when we were younger in school that "an idle mind is the devils workshop", and there was truth to that observation as I snuck around to the back side of the house like a thief. I heard the girls voices and their subsequent laughter, but the tone was sultry and foreign to what I was used to with them. I peeked in the kitchen window and heard their footsteps, but saw nothing, and then snuck around to the far side of the building to watch Tracy and Dana unload the car.
I had to blink hard twice when I saw Tracy, she was wearing her heels, but other than the starched white apron that I had day dreamed about for myself while in the girls service, nothing else. She looked very sexy with her full breasts almost all the way exposed from the side, as well as their pushing at the thin cloth struggling to contain their motion from the front as she walked. The short garment wasn't designed to be worn as a dress, but rather over one, and therefore wasn't large enough to wrap fully around her. The wide bow holding it closed at the small of her back was hanging down behind her though, somewhat masking her bare bottom. The front of the apron fell at Tracy's mid thigh, and the overall look was incredibly sexy, even more so that I had envisioned for myself.
I had dreamed of being made to wear that apron for the girls as I served them, but I also had to admit that Tracy looked more sexy in it than I ever could. Tracy had obviously brought it with her on our vacation expecting to have me wear it as I served them in maid fashion, she being made to wear it instead due to her lost bet especially ironic. Tracy was definitely the more compassionate of the two girls, but would she be so with me after she thought I had sided with Dana on her lost bet? If my being run down the dirt road by Dana's car to the summer house by my leash was any indication, I would guess not.
I felt naughty and voyeuristic watching my friends covertly, but I had a feeling I might learn something I might not otherwise if they thought I was elsewhere. Like a watch dog I hid in the shadows and listened to the girls conversations, my ears perking up when I thought I heard my name like the sometimes obedient pet I was emulating.
Dana stopped coming out to help, and I assumed she was putting things away as I watched Tracy continue to make trips without a complaint until the trunk was empty. I stayed put in case one of them came back out, but when I heard a familiar crack from inside the house I ran to the kitchen window once again to see what happened. Tracy still had the apron's strap around her neck, but the bow behind her back was undone, and she bent over the small oak kitchen table and naked from her neck to her ankles, at least from behind. She held the far side of the table with her arms stretched out, and the handle of a wooden cooking spoon was clenched in her teeth as I was just in time to see Dana wind up and take a second shot with her paddle, our friends pink butt the intended target.
In morbid fascination I watched Tracy's body respond to the paddle as if in slow motion. The jiggle of the flesh on her backside leading to her muscles clenching up from her hands all the way down to her calves a moment later. The general thrust of her body moved in reaction away from Dana's none too gentle assault, while her breasts dragged the tabletop through her apron, but apparently moving in the opposite direction due to their mass. Dana didn't take her follow up shot immediately after as I had anticipated, but instead waited until Tracy had settled down from her previous one before she continued. I realized Dana was like a paddling grand master, playing our friends body like a musical instrument to get everything she could out of it, and I wondered how one gets so good at such things other than with practice. She HAD practiced on both Tracy and I for years, I now thinking that her paddle was more than just a paddle to her.
It was a lot to take in, the scene before me looking more like foreplay than a punishment, and I understood now the distinction between the two girls specific descriptions of their bet both won, and lost. I assumed that Tracy was taking my paddling in my place, but I didn't know if she intended to punish me afterwards, or thank me. Dana's next shot was on the same cheek as her last, I assumed to maintain the element of surprise, as was her delay itself. I watched Tracy's upper body more closely this time, and she didn't necessarily yelp in pain, but she did bear down on the spoon and roll her head. Specifically missing however was any request for leniency, spoon or no spoon.
Could she be getting the same thing out of her paddling that I almost got out of mine? If so I was envious, but not necessarily for Dana and her firm swing to be the one taking me there. I watched the whole show and then snuck away feeling quite randy myself, but fearful of either getting caught pleasing myself, or having my post orgasm lethargy spotted for what it was by my two knowledgeable friends. A dark thought then popped into my head of it's own accord, if I were in Tracy's place on that table I would wish to be blindfolded, removing the temptation for me to peek and see the target of Dana's swings before I felt them.
I wandered about until dusk on familiar trails feeling very naked and exposed, not to mention lonely and wishing for the interaction of my friends who possibly shared a more intimate relationship than I realized. The porch light eventually came on and Dana whistled and called me like one would expect a pooch to be called, and I trotted up to the house and was let in to the smell of dinner, but Dana also squarely in front of me blocking my path toward a table set for two instead of three.
"DOWN GIRL" Dana commanded with a smirk that didn't match her firm tone. And then to make her words even clearer for her stupid pooch, (when I hesitated not knowing if she were joking or not), she pointed at the floor with the perfectly manicured index finger of her empty left hand, her right holding a tightly rolled newspaper just at the edge of my vision. I stood staring for a moment longer at that finger, and thought briefly to ask out loud if she was serious, but then slowly wilted and knelt down before her with my hands placed submissively on my thighs as if my body had responded to her demand directly. I realized she had never broken her eye contact with me, nor I her, except for the briefest moments to study her commanding fingernail. Her words felt as if they had a power all their own, far in excess of just words, my intention to ask if she were serious forgotten a moment after I had formed it.
"All the way down", Dana added for clarity, she smacking her open hand with the newspaper menacingly, as if wielding a noisy but humane version of a barbarian's club. It was a simple implied threat any dog would understand, "do this, or get that", and totally unnecessary. Had she not seen for herself the direct control she briefly had over me? For those few seconds I was like a puppet, watching myself move by another's hidden hand, but Dana had squandered the moment, and now I was back again.
I hunkered down even further, emulating how a real dog lays down at the ready, but only expecting to have to remain in that position just long enough to prove I could be a good dog for Dana. I ended up in a sphinx like pose, my arms from my elbows to my open hands stretched out in front of me on the hardwood floor, my butt however was high in the air even with my knees bent well past ninety degrees. Tracy had stopped putting out dinner to watch our interaction, she not only wearing her apron fully once again, but a huge ear to ear grin while watching Dana attempt to train me.
Dana gave my upturned butt a noisy smack with her newspaper to tell me to put it down, but my human hips couldn't be made to move exactly as she had apparently envisioned. Seeing the problem I was having she walked behind me out of my sight, (I dared not follow her with my eyes nor turn my head), and I felt her place her improvised club up between my legs almost all the way to my bare sex, terrified that she might smack me there with it, but more so to move or even look without her permission.
It felt as if that paper were giving off it's own static electric charge, it not actually touching my body, but I having goose bumps just sensing it's presence and not knowing it's intention. I didn't know what I would have done if she did smack me there, but thankfully she smacked the inside of each thigh in a back and forth motion, and I spread my legs further and further apart as she intended by sliding my knees on the floor to avoid it. I eventually ended up in a yoga frog position that would have trapped the paper between my feminine charms and the floor if she had left it there, feeling lewdly displayed to whoever should stand behind me naked as I was.
"Good girl" Dana praised, and she rubbed my head roughly in mock affection as she messed my hair up even more than it already was, most of it obstructing the vision of what lay directly in front of me.
"I will allow my pooch to run about on her hind legs while outside so she doesn't injure herself, but inside she must be down on all fours respectfully or face the consequences. Stay there until I tell you differently" Dana concluded.
My buds were just brushing the cold floor in teasing fashion, my neck straining to look up at the girls and the dinner table, and I could just imagine a stranger walking through the door behind me at any second to see my shameful display. On top of all that my muscles were straining from being held in their unnatural position, but I also realized that was no accident.
The table was set for two instead of three, but I still couldn't believe the girls were actually going to eat in front of me as I was made to pose lewdly for them, the smell of Tracy's cooking reminding me that I hadn't eaten all day. Tracy brought the rest of their meal out, and I was forced watch them eat and discuss their plans for the week as if I weren't there, my next to the floor vantage point fitting for one that had not only volunteered for this, but had taken the steps necessary to ensure I couldn't back out early.
The girls spoke, laughed, and ate together, occasionally looking over at me to ensure I remained obediently in position, however my trembling muscles were beginning to seriously protest.
I could hear some of their conversation, but other parts were kept at a near whisper, the overall feeling was of a romantic dinner for two. Eventually the sounds of silverware scraping empty serving plates could be heard, I suddenly in tune with sounds indicating there might not be any food left on them for me. I felt my mouth water with the thought, doubly so when I saw Tracy stand and take Dana's plate from her like the good maid she was pretending to be, she then scraping their combine scraps onto Dana's single plate.
Had the girls forgotten about their lewdly posing pooch? I didn't see how that was possible, but I decided to remind them of their obligation to feed me in pure dog fashion by whining, trying to find the humor in getting this unexpected version of what I had asked for.
"Be patient, you'll get yours in a second" Tracy warned over her shoulder with a smile, not even bothering to look at me while responding though.
The plate with the girl's leftovers was getting more attention than what was necessary if it was just to be thrown in the trash, but I couldn't see exactly what she was doing with it from my position either. I then saw Tracy place the plate on the floor at her feet, their combine leftovers piled in one finely cut mass of vegetables, potatoes, meat, and gravy, and I thought it had to be a cruel joke.
Despite the revulsion at potentially being offered food rejected from their plates, I felt my mouth watering, knowing I needed to eat something. I had not been told I could move yet however, and I whined more insistently this time, I finding myself in the unique position of begging to eat scraps off of one of their plates placed on the floor at their feet. I had dreamed of being their pet, but in those dreams I never pondered the details, (like how their pet would be fed), the girl's improvisations in this case taking a logical but unexpected turn from my point of view.
We had snacked off of each other's plates before, even shared popcorn and soda at the movies, so was this really any different? Shame on me for not anthropomorphizing the character of the pet I intended to emulate in my diary more clearly, the girls at least mercifully deciding to serve their pooch human food instead of more traditional pet fare.
Dana made eye contact with me and clucked her cheek, I taking that as permission to get out of my submissive pose and trot over to eat from the plate at her feet. Dana told me unnecessarily "no hands", I guessing that part on my own already with being kept on all fours inside the house. Eating from a plate while on your hands and knees without your hands can be challenging at best, doing so with your hair hanging in your gravy covered plate even more so. Fortunately the bits were tender and cut small, but by the time I had finished a portion of my meal was spread all over my face, and matted in my hair to boot. I licked the plate clean in pure canine fashion, the girls howling in delight, but likely also telling them that I was fine with eating like this in the future.
Drinking the water Tracy had placed in a bowl next to my food was another issue entirely, I lapped at the surface to drink like a dog would, but had to resort to biting the edge of the bowl and tipping it up to drink from it like a cup. It was near impossible to get more than a drop of water in my mouth with my tongue alone, and that part of my dog act was unfortunately a complete failure.
I was a mess after my meal and needed a shower, but "dogs can't take showers", as Dana was quick to point out to her maid Tracy. "Take her out and give her a bath, and I'll stack the dishes for you in the meantime" Dana ordered.
It was one thing to put sun screen all over each other, but the idea of Tracy giving me a bath felt just a little too intimate for this dog, but I really had no choice unless I wanted to sleep with food plastered all over my face and in my hair. It was in a way just another boundary to approach, and then casually step over in my temporary canine transformation. Tracy clipped my leash to my collar, and I expected to be lead "out" the bathroom only for her to deposit me in the tub to take care of myself, she just going through the motions for Dana's sake.
Instead she walked me through the front door to stand, (on all fours), out on the dark porch. She unclipped my leash for a moment while straddling me to prevent my escape, then made a slip joint out of the loop handle and free end of the leash around one of the heavy posts, only then to re clip it trapping me on the porch.
If I had wanted to I could have unclipped it myself with fingers I wasn't supposed to have, but this was a game of sorts, and that would be cheating. I couldn't even stand on my hind legs with the leash as low as it was on the post, it slipping all the way down to the floor on it's own the moment Tracy had let go of it.
I waited on the porch tethered by my leash to the post while Tracy returned to the house and closed the door behind her, only to return moments later with a bucket filled with sudsy water, (looking suspiciously like fresh dishwater that Dana had prepared for her), and a large sponge. Was this well organized "bath time" the improvisation it was made to appear, or were my messed hair and gravy laden plate designed to require the cleaning of their pooch in the first place, breaking down still another barrier along the way?
I realized Tracy was dragging this on, as if she were waiting for some excuse, or cue from me to stop. I knew I had the easier position, and as much as I wasn't looking forward to our intimate contact, in a way I guess I was. She had to do something she might have felt uncomfortable with, and I only had to keep in character and let her. I had dreamed about the girls, but not necessarily one of them giving me a sponge bath with a chain around my neck.
When Tracy couldn't delay any longer she dipped her sponge into the bucket and started with my messy face and hair first, a gesture I appreciated as she could have easily started much lower and worked her way up. I closed my eyes and mouth tightly and tried not to choke as the soapy warm water ran everywhere, I timing my breaths accordingly. When my face and hair were done she moved on to my back, and then under my torso, scrubbing my body from my breasts to my womanhood, the latter getting a good scrubbing as I spread my legs to ease her access. The course texture of the sponge, (her bare hands not touching my body directly as of yet), felt quite good, especially by another's unpredictable hand, and her cleaning through and just this side of foreplay.
My body reacted, and I rolled my hind quarters to further facilitate her efforts, but she all too soon moved on to other parts that needed her attention after a short laugh. "What a naughty dog you are" she commented, her bare hand slapping my wet butt noisily, but playfully. I nodded my head in reply, but still ended up being as clean as one can get with dish soap, my long hair fairing by far the worst, and I wondering how she intended to rinse the soap from my body before it dried.
It was obvious she hadn't intended to actually give me a bath, her preparations a bluff that I had called when I surrendered to her sponge. The garden hose was the closest thing to me, but I anticipated freezing cold, especially compared to the pleasantly warm and soapy water.
Even though it was dark, the black garden hose had been in the sun all day long, and as such the water she sprayed me down with was at first delightfully hot. It then turning cooler, but before she was done ice cold when the last of the sun warmed water had been pushed from the hose by the cold well water from deep in the ground. Tracy realized her unintentional torment when I squealed at the cold assault, some of the cold spray even splashing on her and soaking her white apron, turning it transparent in spots.
Tracy apologized under her breath, but we both knew the soap had to be rinsed off, and out, the last thirty seconds of my first pet bath by far the worst. It was summer time and not all that cold even though it was night time, but the cold water's intrusion had me shivering. Tracy ran into the house once again to get a bath towel, and she toweled me down as I did nothing to stop her caring but rough treatment, my hair left in a knotted mess however and not combed out as I usually do.
Before I was lead back inside, (dogs apparently not spending the night outside as earlier threatened), Tracy whispered in my ear while straddling me as if in preparation to go for a ride on my back, her wet breasts pressing down on my shoulder blades. "If you would rather be our maid tomorrow I will leave your apron hanging in the bathroom to dry next to the towel. Breakfast in bed at nine am. sharp, you know what we like."
Without another word Tracy then removed my cuffs with the special key that adorned her neck on a simple chain, not because they restricted my movements in the least with nothing attaching them to each other, but to allow them to dry next to the apron. I had impressions from the wide cuffs on my wrists despite their comfort, I almost forgetting I was wearing them, making for a second good reason to get them off of me as I had been wearing them for at least half the day by then.
Tracy unclipped me from my leash and opened the door, allowing me to walk into the house behind her on all fours as I was expected to, wondering when this game would end. I got the distinct feeling my friends were expecting me to revolt at some point, and inexplicably I wondered where that imaginary line was for them, almost as much as for myself. I suspected that with each new social paradigm broken, that imaginary line would move, and in the possession of my loving friends I felt the courage to explore those limits.
I also discovered quite by accident that it is impossible to be anything but humble while looking up at just about everybody, my perspective at about the same height as Tracy's open backed apron as I followed her inside, her tan and partially covered butt almost in my face. I realized my focus was on her more intimate parts, I not giving them any real thought in the flesh previously, other than when I felt their heat when she ungagged me in the back seat, dreams not included. In those I imagined I was at my friends disposal, I to serve them in that mannerr as well, but serving and not necessarily receiving anything for my efforts. There were no specific details in those dreams either, much like my non specific desires to be their pet, all without contemplating how such a pet would be practically fed while keeping in character.
Sleeping as a pet was another thing I hadn't thought through, but the girls obviously had, and in the corner of the combination living and dinning room Dana had placed a comforter folded up like a pet bed, my bone from the pet shop placed on it as well to confirm it purpose. Tracy pointed at the improvised bed and I laid down on it, surprised at it's comfort, she tenderly placing a blanket over me to help warm my still chilled body. I feigned sleep, but listened to both girls when they entered the shower at the same time, followed by the sounds one would associate with two full sized adults showering in a place made for one.
Giggles and bumps on the wall, followed by dropped bars of soap had my imagination running wild, and I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't do something for myself. We had showered together before in bath houses at the shore, but only to wash off the sand and salt water, and to rinse out our suits under the stream of warm water before changing. Other girls did it as well, and I thought nothing of our innocent and incidental body contact, but the sounds coming from the shower didn't sound like any of those.
When the shower finally stopped, (likely when the hot water stopped flowing), I heard both girls dry off, then watched them ascend the stairs to the bedrooms. It appeared that they wore nightshirts alone through my barely open eyelids, a fact confirmed when I watched them climb the stairs before me, both of them deliberately stepping over the fifth squeaky step that we had all know about since early childhood, obviously thinking I was actually asleep and not wishing to wake me.
It wasn't unusual for us to sleep in night shirts on our many sleep overs, but my new vantage point on the floor had me seeing such things from a new perspective. I felt voyeuristic and naughty once again for watching, as well as listening earlier to them in the shower, and as a result was far too aroused to sleep. I heard a single bedroom door swing on it's squeaky hinges, wondering if the girls were going to each use a separate room, or share a single one. There were several small rooms upstairs with bunk beds to accommodate extra family and friends, the pink one always being ours when I had visited in the past.
This time however there were no other adults to accommodate, and I wondered where the girls would end up. Would Dana unashamedly select the large master bedroom for herself, (it being her families house), or would the girls opt to bunk up together in the bunk beds of our youth? Of a more pressing matter was my frustration preventing me from really sleeping, and with the girls safely upstairs and the lights out, I felt I could get away with pleasing myself if I kept quiet.
My dog bone gift from the nice man at the pet store laid next to me, and playfully picked it up with my mouth, not to chew on it like the pet I was emulating, but to see if it would make an acceptable gag. I made it go as deep as I could long ways and bore down on it's unusual texture, it feeling more like a horse's bit in my mouth than a dog's bone. It wouldn't necessarily make a great gag, not nearly as good as the racquetball I had once used, but it's presence would at least remind me to tone down any noise I might wish to make.
Just chomping on it felt sexy and taboo, and my hands roamed from my neck down of their own accord. They stopped strategically along the way to pinch, rub, and molest the flesh within their reach like an impassioned lover, but when they arrived where one would expect they did their magic, they having become quite experienced at such things just recently. I closed my eyes and left tooth marks in that bone as I popped myself off as silently as possible, pulling a calf muscle in my efforts.
When I was finished with myself I kicked off my blanket as I was sweating pretty good, the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears and my excited breathing the only sounds I was aware of. When my body cooled down however, I became aware of some kind of commotion from upstairs, a single shaft of soft light emanating from the top of the dark stairs in the same general direction as the curious noise...
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story continues in My Summer Of Dares 8: Caught