Pets: Bach's Story (8 page)

“Good Pani,” she whimpered. “Good Pani.”

“Let’s go home,” he sighed. “Come on, Pani. No, I’m not going to carry you; you can walk. Come on.”

He herded her back through the store, leading her by the braid again until they got to the sales counter. Without thinking, as he reached for his wallet, he let go of Pani.

She actually stayed by his side for several long seconds as he dug for his credit slip. She looked up at him and he down at her as he realized what he’d just done. Then like a flash she was gone, dashing past the shop aisles and nearly crashing into the automatic door which almost didn’t register her approach.

“Pani!” he shouted, abandoning his wallet on the counter and running after her. “No, Pani!”

She dashed off the sidewalk and out into the street. His heart leapt into his throat when he heard the honk and squeal of tires as a transport vehicle slammed on its brakes in an attempt to avoid hitting her.

Flashbacks of the accident that had taken his family skidded through his mind even as he heard the squeals of the second vehicle. Pani jumped back as it slid screeching on the road top in front of her. She stood rooted to the concrete as the monstrous machine narrowly missed her and Bach caught up to her.

He grabbed the scruff of her dress, yanking her clean off her feet and hard against his chest. He caught several nasty looks from the irate drivers as he jogged with her back to the sidewalk, then traffic started up again.

Luckily, she hadn’t caused an accident.

Luckily, she hadn’t been killed.

His anger hit him so hard that for a moment he felt completely blinded by it. He dropped to one knee on the sidewalk.

Pani became unfrozen right quickly the instant he flung her over his make-shift lap. He flipped up the back of her dress, grabbed a hold of the back of her panties, and skinned them right down to the backs of her dimpled knees. It wasn’t until he saw his own hand that he realized he was still holding the unpaid for collar and leash.

Just what he needed.

Just what she needed, too.

He stared at that strip of leather, his blood boiling for a full minute before he dropped the collar on the sidewalk. Pani screamed as he lashed into her with strong and angry strokes, the leash raising welts upon welts from the top of her bottom to the middle of her thighs.

“Don’t you ever,” he bit out, punctuating each word with a snap of the leash, “run out into the road like that again!”

He barely heard her shrill wails as he whipped her, but the comment that did finally sink through the anger to his ears came from a perfect stranger. The woman turned up her nose as she stomped past him. “Shameful conduct! To beat the little beast so!”

Bach flung the leash down on the sidewalk. He grabbed the scruff of her dress and hauled her upright again, jerking her yellow, ruffled panties back into place.

Pani immediately grabbed the back of her underwear. Through gritted teeth, she hissed breath after pain-filled breath. Her hot bottom all but sizzled, and he knew the scrape of elastic against the purpling welts couldn’t have been comfortable, but he folded his arms across his chest and glared down at her, a veritable mountain of disapproval.

“You, young lady,” he growled when she peeked sadly up at him, “will either learn how to mind, or be one very sorry, very sore little pet sitting down.”

He buckled the collar around her neck and dragged her back into the store, with her fighting the leash every step of the way. As he paid for his purchases, he picked up the stretch kit and opened it.

“It’s obvious I gave you too many privileges too soon,” he said as he removed the instructions. He opened them, skimming the page for how the inserts should be used, then picked one up. He turned it over in his fingers, examining the penis-shaped plug from all sides. “Well, that’s all going to change as of right now. You need a routine, Pani.”

Holding onto the leash with both hands, she looked from the plug in his hand to him, her eyes wide and salty tears still flowing down both cheeks.

“A regular disciplinary routine will do a wild sprite like you a world of good.” He replaced the implant and snapped the kit shut again. “When we get home tonight, my naughty little miss, discipline is exactly what you are going to get.”

Chapter Five

“Since I can’t trust you not to run away,” Bach said as he tightened the straps around her legs, “you’re going to be kept on a very short and confining leash.”

Pani moaned into her gag, but she couldn’t move to protest. He’d tied her legs and waist, bent over the back of a cushioned hair. Her feet dangled off the ground by a good six to eight inches, and he’d slipped a pillow beneath her hips to protect them from the bruising bite of the wooden back. Her arms were completely encased from her fingertips to above her elbows in a black leather sleeve, which bound her forearms parallel to one another behind her back.

“You’re going to have to prove to me that you can be a good girl, before I give you a little freedom back.”

He fetched a bottle of soothing lotion from the bathroom to rub into her bottom. The leash had definitely done it’s job. Her wounded flesh was hot to the touch and her muscles tightened—the only movement she could manage—as he massaged the lotion into plum-colored welts, some as thick as his smallest finger. It had to hurt; she moaned almost continuously, tossing her head and rapidly blinking back tears when he touched the worst of them. But Bach continued to rub until her quivering bottom was slick and slippery beneath his hand.

She twisted her face back, her grey eyes pleading with him to stop, but he ignored her.

“Pani has been a naughty girl,” he told her implacably. “And Pani is going to bear the consequences of her actions. But, first things first…”

He went to the bathroom, returning a short time later with a shallow pan. Narrow and long, he inserted the cold metal between her splayed thighs and held it just beneath her hips.

“All right, now,” he said. “Go potty.”

She only whimpered, her taut muscles straining at her bonds.

“Pani,” he warned.

She glanced back at him with her huge and uncertain eyes.

Lowering the pan, Bach first cupped her womanhood, and then he spanked it. Just hard enough to make her jump and gasp.

“Go potty, Pani, or Papa will have to spank you again.” His fingers clapped five times in not-so-gentle succession against the fleshy folds between her legs. “You’ve already earned yourself more than you want to take, I promise you.”

Other than her name and the one she knew to be his, he knew she didn’t understand a word of what he was saying. But when he flattened his spanking palm over her small bottom, her whole body stiffened in anticipation of another swat. Then Bach tapped the pan between her legs again. Her head bowed and she whimpered once, before urinating, the trickle of fluid pattering softly against the metal bottom. Her face flushed miserably, and she didn’t look at him. But when she was done, he didn’t take the pan away, either.

“Come on.” He shifted the pan between her thighs and tapped the dusky rim of her bottom hole with one finger. “I know you have to. You haven’t gone since I brought you home.

You’re going to be uncomfortable enough in a few minutes. You don’t want to make it worse.”

He knew she understood him when her face flushed even redder than her sore buttocks.

He waited patiently, holding the pan beneath her while she didn’t move. Just when he was about to lay a motivating swat upon her, he saw the tiny brown bud of her anus begin to work.

When she was done, Bach carried the mess from the living room, returning a short time later with a warm washcloth in his hand. He cleaned her from front to back twice before dropping the cloth in the bathroom clothes hamper. At the sink, he mixed together a solution of soap and lukewarm water, pouring it into a Gerfel-brand personal cleanser. It was really just an oversized metal and glass syringe, with a long, narrow nozzle that was capped at one end with a removable rubber plug and a rotating handle at the other. Eight complete turns would push a rubber plate through the syringe, emptying it. After rinsing out the metal pan, he took it and the syringe back to the living room.

He spread out a towel on the floor between Pani’s splayed legs, and another behind her just in case. From the open stretch kit, Bach took a tube of clear lubricating gel and applied a liberal dab directly to the end of the nozzle as well as to that nervous brown bud, winking as it was between rosy cheeks that were trying so desperately to clench together to hide it.

“This isn’t going to be comfortable,” he said as he uncapped the end of the nozzle and tucked it right up to her anal opening. “But I want you to be all cleaned out for Papa.”

Despite her instant clenching, the nozzle slipped effortlessly past the dusky rim and deep inside her bottom. Because she was so tiny and the syringe was not made for pets, he only pushed it halfway inside her, before eight slow turns of the handle gradually forced the soapy solution up into her bowels.

Pani’s whimpers turned to growling groans and, despite the discomfort, her bottom automatically struggled to hold onto the solution. With the syringe nozzle deeply imbedded, he sifted through the stretch kit, picking up and discarding different sized vaginal as well as anal inserts until he found one no bigger than the thickness of his thumb. As he withdrew the nozzle, he quickly replaced it with the insert, effectively plugging the mixture within her with little more than a slick pop as it forced her body to accept it. She stiffened sharply, squeaking her indignation at being so invaded, though the gag all but swallowed the sound.

Bach tapped the plug all the way into her and held it pressed as deep as it would go with the tip of his finger against the wide black base that parted her buttocks. When he was sure it would stay and that Pani couldn’t expel it before he deemed it time, he took his hand away. He had nothing to do now but take his time.

He mixed up a second syringe in the bathroom, the water this time hotter than the last since it would have time to cool before he could use it, then washed his hands.

Back in the living room, he lay the syringe on the floor between her legs and settled upon his knees to explore her narrow sex with its strangely inside out clitoris.

Pani groaned and grunted, her whole body trying so hard to contort in her bonds, to expel the awful liquid having its intended effect within her, and to somehow evade his finger as he pressed it up to her woman’s passage. She was smooth as silk inside, the walls of slick muscle clamping down and squeezing his finger, a very welcoming feel despite the teary-eyed look of pleading she gave him.

There was one sweet spot, he noted curiously that, when caressed, brought Pani’s whole body into a jolt of motionlessness. She sucked a startled breath, and when he caressed the spot again, closed her eyes and bowed her head, pressing her forehead into the seat of the cushioned chair.

“Do you like that?” he asked. He was barely able to reach the spot and had to press deep in order to stroke it with the tip of his finger.

Her thighs clenched and the length of her silken sheath squeezed around him, shivering much the way a real woman’s would as her orgasm came upon her.

So, Pani could have orgasms, he thought, a slow smile spreading across his face. That gave him an advantage.

He parted the folds of her labia with his other hand. Licking two fingers, he gently peeled back the hood that shielded her misplaced clit. Her head came up, and she sucked in another deep breath through her nose as he stroked the sensitive tip of the tiny nub he revealed.

“Oh yes,” he rumbled, chuckling as her hips tried to bucked against his hands. “Pani is going to be a very good girl for her Papa, now isn’t she?”

Her bonds held her so tightly that she could barely move an inch in any direction. But as he began a rhythm of flicking and circling that hitherto hidden nub, her squirms to get away became grinding motions as she used her meager inch of mobility to ride her hips upon his fingers.

She was growing wet and quivery and more silky feeling deep inside. Bach withdrew his fingers, piercing her with two now, stretching and filling her to her accompanying moan as she struggled to move on them.

She dropped her forehead back to the cushions again, long low moans fighting their way past her gag. She was very tight, her sheath squeezing the twin digits he was stroking long and as deep as he could reach inside her. He removed them after barely half a minute, added a third finger and thrust them hard inside her. She was so stretched now to take him that he could feel the plug in her bottom against the back of his knuckles.

Pani whimpered, thrashing her head, alternately stiffening upright as far as her bonds would allow, then collapsing back on the cushions. She shook, but the wet, slick sound of her sex as he pounded his fingers in and out left him with no doubt of just how much she was enjoying this, despite her pleading expression and the plaintive noises she was making.

He watched her body carefully, and as the pitch and desperation of her cries intensified.

The inner walls of her womanhood locked down on his fingers, holding him fiercely close, shivering, her hips grinding and humping upon his hand. He abruptly stilled his fingers, pressing them firmly between her legs until the threat of her coming had passed.

“Not just yet,” he told her. “Pani has been a bad girl, after all. If you want to spend with me, my little miss, you’re going to have to show me you can be good.”

He got up and walked out of the room while she wailed her protest into her gag. He went to the kitchen and made some coffee, then brought it to his desk so he could check the news on his computer and keep an eye on her.

She was trying hard not to look at him, but the discomfort of her soapy enema had her sniffling soft breathy sounds and whimpering out tearful, “Papa” sounds around her gag. He got up to check the temperature of the next enema. Still a little hot, but almost right. So he gave her another minute before picking up the pan again.

The plug popped out of her with very little difficulty, so while she groaned and cried, expelling violently into the pan he held beneath her, he set it aside and selected the next largest size. When she was completely empty, he got the second syringe and slid it right up inside her bottom, ignoring her cries as he emptied it into her. She tried to expel right away, but he pushed the second insert deep into place, the widest section of the plug causing a mew of pain as it popped past her reluctant rim and settled into place. He left the enema to work its humbling magic and carried the pan down to the bathroom to empty it and wash his hands a second time.