Pets: Bach's Story (7 page)

There was a sharp ‘clunk’ as Pani rolled the first marble out of the maze and onto the floor.

She did have beautiful coloring. She bent forward a little as she set the maze back on the floor, and the bare and quite rosy cheeks of her bottom peeked out at him from beneath the short hem of her baby doll dress. He could see the plum-colored outline of his fingers in places, and the purplish-blue blotching in others where he’d struck often enough to make the shape of the bruising nondescript.

“Pick up the marbles and put them back in the maze,” he said when she seemed inclined to leave them on the floor.

Pani sat back on her haunches, blinking at him with uncomprehending eyes, her hands on her knees.

“Go on, Pani.” He added some hand gestures. “Pick them up.”

She glanced down at the multitude of play things around her. Then, looking back up at him for confirmation, slowly reached down to pick up the maze again. She blinked at him, her head tilting to one side.

Bach got up and came over to her. Her look turned very nervous as he squatted down at the edge of her blanket. He made a show of retrieving the marbles. “Pick them up,” he said, careful to keep his tone light and cheerful. “And put them—” one after the other, he dropped them back inside the plastic maze, “—away.”

He smiled; she didn’t. She put the maze down again.

“Here,” he beckoned to her even as he reached out to take her arm. “Come here, Pani. Let me see your bottom.”

Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared as he pulled her to him. When he started to bend her over on the blanket, she let out an ear-piercing wail. Her legs shot out behind her and she scrambled across the blanket—not to get away, but to get as close to him as possible, squeezing herself tight up against his chest and clutching his shirt in both hands. Most of what she chattered was gibberish, with sporadic words thrown in. “No, Pani, Papa! No spanked Pani! No, no, Papa!”

Bach pried her claw-like fingers off his shirt and through gentle prods and pushes, slowly got her to bend over on her knees.

“Pani hasn’t been a bad girl,” he said over the increased volume of her wails. “I’m not going to spank my Pani. It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid. I just want to see how bad the bruising is. There’s my good girl. That’s right, all the way over.”

She did not go willingly, but when he did finally get her all the way down, with her head on the blanket and her bottom in the air, she stopped fighting and immediately switched instead to covering her cringing cheeks with upturned palms. When he took her wrists, pinning them up behind her back and raising her dress to bare her, she burst into tears.

Her bottom became a tense little target, but Bach only gently traced the worst of the bruising, sliding the tips of his fingers beneath the plump curve and along the crease of her thighs. Her forlorn sobs tugged at his heart as he pried her buttocks apart. First one side and then the other, noting the tiny round bruise, which he’d somehow landed right next to the dusky little rim of her anus.

“What a lot of fuss over nothing,” he teased as, inspection completed, he gave her bottom a fond pat and let her up.

She was an instant scramble of mobility, hurling herself into his arms so forcefully that she pitched him over backwards. Bach landed flat on his butt on the floor, arresting his fall with one hand and grabbing hold of her with the other.

She shook in his one-armed embrace, burying her face into the crook of his neck, pulling her legs up to her chin so he had no choice but to hold all of her at once.

“No spanked!” she wept. “No spanked!”

He wasn’t laughing now.

“It’s all right, Pani,” he whispered and hugged her just as tightly as she’d come to him.

“I’m not going to spank you. I’ve got no reason to. You’re being very good right now. You’re okay. Shh, shh, no more crying, sweetheart. My misbehaving little miss.”

He’d made a mistake. He’d taken her discipline too far too soon. Unfortunately, there was no going back in time to fix it.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Bach held her until his legs went to sleep.

Twice an hour every hour for the rest of the morning, he made it a point to bend her over his lap again. While she begged and cried and pleaded for ‘No more spanked Pani’, he softly stroked her. He massaged and rubbed her quivering bottom to show that not all touches from his hands were going to mean pain. From the small of her back to the bottoms of her feet, he made sure that he caressed every inch of her, and he didn’t stop until her tears slowly turned to sniffles and her frantic words to the softest of moans.

While she still came to him with tears clinging to her lashes and trepidation all over her face every time he beckoned, by noon and her eighth trip face-down over his knees, at least she was no longer crying.

*

“We have a wide variety of leashes, colors and harnesses. A veritable rainbow array of colors to suit both your and your pretty pet’s fancies,” the man behind the Pet World sales counter said. He beamed a smile at Pani, who stood beside Bach, but only because he’d wrapped one of her braids around his hand like a leash. If he hadn’t, he’d probably have had to chase her around the store the same way he’d had to chase her down when she’d ducked away from him in the parking lot. She’d only made it two steps before he snagged the back of her dress. A stern ‘no’

with an equally stern smack delivered to the seat of her bottom had stilled her struggles quite nicely.

Now, Pani alternated between looking from him, to the Salesman, to the rest of the store, its patrons and, in particular, to the other pets. This was definitely the place to come if you were the owner of a very spoiled human. Of the dozen or more in the store, Bach had only seen one so far that was unclothed, and that had been a big, muscular male—a champion stud, as the brand on his hip had clearly shown. All the others had been dressed in short childish dresses or little service suits. There were bells and bows, chest as well as hip halters, and leashes clipped to waist, neck or hip collars, and even affixed to nipple rings worn by a black-skinned, black-haired beauty, who pranced behind her owner on shoes with four-inch-high heels, her nose in the air at least as high as her owner’s. Funny how pets and people came to resemble one another after a while.

“We have six different kinds of formula,” the man continued. “The best is, naturally, the most expensive, but it is also the most complete and nutritional meal on the market today.

Scientifically balanced to tempt the palate as well as to meet the dietary needs of even the most finicky eater. It is flavorful, easy and quick to prepare, and can be fed to her through a syringe or bottle, if you prefer the intimacy of cradling her while she eats.”

“Sold,” Bach said. “Which aisle will I find it on?”

“Twelve.” The Salesman smiled at Pani again. “Beautiful coloring. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a vivid spot patterning before. Usually you only get a few faded dots on the face or arms, but to have so many…”

“They’re all over, too,” Bach said helpfully. Proudly even. As though he’d put her spots there himself.

“Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Bach told him, with a slight bow of his head.

“Will you be breeding her?”

This question came from the woman who’d come up just behind Pani. She was the owner of the nude breeder male, who she held close to her via a short, black leash. She trailed the length of it through her slender fingers.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Bach said honestly.

The woman reached out to stroke the length of one of Pani’s braids. “Such a lovely shade.”

Pani jerked her head away, half turning when she felt the woman’s fingers graze her mane.

Bach tightened his hold on her braid. “You be a good girl,” he warned her.

“Flighty?” the woman asked.

“Spirited,” Bach corrected. “And new. I’ve only had her for ten days now.”

“I’ve had Mogo six years.” She swept a regal hand back to indicate the champion male at the end of her leash. “I’ve been showing him for four. He’s won more first place awards than I’ve got walls to display them. I’ve put him out to stud more than a hundred times. Impregnation is guaranteed if your female is healthy. You won’t even need to stretch her first. He’s not so large that he won’t just slide right into her as easy as can be.”

Bach looked down at the male, who was watching his Pani without a hint of betraying expression. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to have her bred.”

“For a champion whelp with her coloring, I would stud him to your pet three times for free.”

Bach didn’t like the look of the champion male. He was a good deal bigger than Pani, and was exhibiting no signs of curiosity towards her. Not even the basic friendly behavior that he’d seen the other pets in the store displaying as they passed one another in the aisles: the touching of hands, waves or smiles.

Politely, he said, “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” Then turned around and pulled Pani well out of the male’s reach. “Come along. Let’s get you some food and a leash.”

He started for the food aisle, but the woman stepped in front of him. She touched Pani again, her fingers lightly skimming her cheek, then smiled up at Bach. “I’ll make it worth your time. You can get double what you paid for her off of each champion whelp. And not only that, but wild females have been known to settle into domestication once they’ve given birth to young here.”

Bach picked Pani up, shifting her to his other side and out of the woman’s reach. “Thank you,” he told her, still polite, but in a tone that was only barely so. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time, when he walked away, the woman stepped out of his way and let him go.

The formula was Stense’s Just-Add-Water-and-Stir. Bach held onto Pani’s braid with one hand as he read the back of a can of the powder. Optimal temperature was between ninety-eight and one-hundred-and-three to avoid burning the inside of her mouth and had to be mixed up fresh each meal to avoid the growth of harmful bacteria.

“Help Papa carry the cans,” he told her, handing her two containers. He moved onto the harness and collar aisle next, leading her by her mane. “Let’s see, what are our choices.”

He picked through the display of organic weaves, plastic and finally settled on a brown leather leash, thick enough to let her pull and fuss if she had to, and thin enough to lay a whippy snap across her disobedient flanks. The edges were even nicely rounded so it wouldn’t cut her skin if he did.

The collar he picked had a series of small bells all the way around the front, giving her movements a musical jingle. He bought her a gold, heart-shaped tag and had it engraved with her name and his home number and address.

“Will that be all for you today?” the Salesman asked as Bach set the formula on the counter.

“Do you have stretch kits here?”

“Only the finest in the industry. What size?”

“Beginner.”

The Salesman disappeared below the counter, resurfacing a moment later with the kit of twelve vaginal inserts ranging from small to ever larger sizes. “We also have fitted sleeves, if you’d like to see them.”

Taking the kit, Bach glanced up at him. “What are those?”

“A sleeve?” The Salesman leaned over the counter, lowering his voice just a little. “Well, unless your pet is modified…”

The man left it hanging like a question between them until Bach said, “She’s not.”

“Then you won’t be able to fit all the way inside her female parts. So you slip a sleeve on before you enter her there. Not only does it provide a safety buffer in case you should, in a moment of passion, forget your strength and push too deeply, but it gives that extra bit of stimulation to make you feel as though you are all the way inside her.” The Salesman straightened again. “Would you like to see our selection?”

“No, thank you.” Bach cleared his throat. “Just the stretch kit, please.”

“Would you like her microchipped as well?” the Salesman asked. “Pet-nappers can remove a collar, but there’s no ease way of disguising an owner’s chip. We can do it right here in the store. Only takes a minute.”

“Isn’t that a surgical procedure?”

“Oh no,” the Salesman said. “We just tuck a chip under her skin between her shoulders.

There might be a momentary twinge of discomfort, but they don’t feel pain the way we do. Once it’s over, she’ll forget all about it.”

Bach looked down at Pani, hugging the two cans of formula to her chest, her collar and leash dangling over her arm, staring back at him with unblinking eyes. “How much?”

“Ten dollars. It’s the best way to keep your pet as safe as possible. Pet-nappers as a rule rarely mess with the microchipped ones.”

Bach had his reservations, especially about the pain part. He’d smacked Pani’s bottom enough times by now to know she certainly did react to pain. But he bowed to the Salesman’s expertise. “All right.”

“Microchip her?” he asked with a smile.

“Microchip her.”

Despite the Salesman’s assurances that she wouldn’t feel much more than a twinge of discomfort, as Bach lay Pani face-down on the table in the tiny back room and held her arms so she couldn’t squirm away from the knife mid-procedure, the instant the man cut the first tiny incision into her back, Pani sucked a startled breath and her whole body went as stiff as a board.

She screeched when the microchip was inserted into the wound and writhed beneath Bach’s restraining hands the whole time the hole was stitched together again.

“There,” the man said and wiped away the last trickle of blood from the edges of the wound. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it? She must think herself a little princess. All that fuss over one little cut.”

Sitting on the edge of the table, Bach glared at him as he pulled the tearful Pani into his lap. Never again would he believe pets incapable of feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he patted her shoulders, rubbed her arms and kissed the tears from her cheeks. “You’re okay now, sweetheart. My pretty little pet. You’re okay now.”

Already the wound on her back looked angry and red, the edges swelling around the ugly black stitches. He was sorry he’d done it. By the time she stopped crying enough to be gathered up for the trip back to the front of the store, she was hugging his hand and pressing her cheek into it.