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Subject: {ASSM} His Pet Millie (MF ds)
Date: Thu, 14 Sep 2000 00:10:08 -0400
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Copyright 2000 PleaseCain@aol.com -- Commercial use prohibited without
author's consent. Removal of this notice in any case is prohibited.
His Pet Millie
by PleaseCain@aol.com
Her lower lip trembled as she put down the receiver.
He turned off the television and held out his arms to her. It was a short
call but he could tell what it was about, and even though she never really
knew or saw her father, her eyes were already moist and red with the news.
Instead of embracing him, she dropped something in his lap -- a collar -- and
let the robe slip from her shoulders, then buried her face in his lap,
sobbing, while he stroked her hair and attached it around her neck.
The couple brought Millie as soon as they purchased the house. He was a
programmer working at home and she took a part-time position for a billing
office that farmed its contracts to freelancers, which allowed her to work
from the house and to finally develop her painting. Thus they were together
often, and could give their new pet the home she needed.
Naturally Millie was uncertain at first how to behave. She saw that this
Master was tender and protective of the woman, true, but how would He treat a
dog? She observed Him from afar, His habits and mannerisms, and approached
Him with caution and reserve. When He called her for bathtime she came
diffidently and stood stiffly while he washed her. During His phone
conversations or while watching television she might brush His leg until He
stroked her neck and back.
But as a Master He proved trustworthy and good. He sat with her while she
ate from her bowl and was generous in feeding her from His own plate. They
played often, both indoors and out, and He talked and complimented her
throughout the day. Millie felt like a treasured pet, and her love for her
Master grew. The woman returned to the house to paint almost every day, but
it was Millie who occupied her Master's heart and mind and became the center
of His life.
She thrived on His devotion and became an even better dog for her Master. As
their trust deepened, so did she grow more comfortable with her role, more
obedient, intuitive, spontaneous and playful. When He did not acknowledge
her as He sat in His chair watching television, for instance, she clowned by
licking His feet or humping His leg until He laughed and patted His lap for
her to climb. She liked to roll onto her back to have her tummy and breasts
rubbed. Then His loving fingers would move to the wet fur between her legs,
and with His expert touch her eyes closed and her breath became choppy and
she lightly bit His arm as she whined and moaned under His power.
Sometimes He locked his arm around her as she stood on all-fours, and she
would feel His fingertips on her vagina, tickling her, circling her clitoris,
prodding her gently, until she bucked and groaned against His hand, praying
for relief, and He might surprise her by slipping one of His slick fingers
into her rear hole and two more into her needy sex, which caused her to cry
out and even collapse if He hadn't been holding her.
When the alarm rang in the morning she would jump up from her blankets beside
the bed, nudging Him awake, licking His face, nuzzling His crotch, eager for
the new day with her Master. His penis was stiff and ready in the morning,
and with her tongue and lips she could coax Him to leap up and turn her in
His hands. She knew that with a couple wiggles of her bottom His cock would
slide into her pussy, rubbing her pink tenderness while he squeezed her
hanging breasts and pulled her nipples, fucking her hard while she clung to
the footboard and felt His sperm inside her, and she squeezed Him until He
was milked out and he let her rest on His bed.
Sometimes Millie even misbehaved like puppies are wont to do, so eager are
they for their masters' attentions. One such instance came after the woman
dawdled the afternoon away without painting and then left. Millie realized
she had not seen her Master since morning, as He was still closed behind the
door of His office, through which He was not to be disturbed. To stave off
boredom, Millie played with her toys and even took a short nap on the chair
where her Master's scent lingered.
She awoke in chilly twilight, listening for her Master. She crawled to the
floor and stretched, somewhat reluctant to move in the gloom. Finally she
padded from the room and down the hall to the door, and could hear Him
speaking on the telephone inside. Darkness was coming and He had worked all
day, and besides, didn't she have to tinkle soon? So, she reached and
scratched the surface. His conversation continued, and she waited, listening
carefully. When His voice stopped, she scratched again and heard movement
inside -- the flutter of paper, the beep of a computer -- but no response to
her signal. She waited uneasily at the foot of the door.
The hallway had grown dark when some twenty minutes later the door opened.
Millie's heart leapt with joy, but her Master shook His head. "You have very
few rules, don't you?" His voice was firm as iron. Frightened and small,
Millie whined before His impassive expression. "You know what you have done."
Master seized her collar, leading her down the hall and through the dining
room to the kitchen, where He steadied her with His left hand and brought His
right into the air. Millie tried to duck but His palm cracked her bottom.
She yelped and tried to run while He scolded her, but His arm locked her in
place as spanks rained down on her behind and didn't subside until her face
lay in a pool of tears. Heartbroken, she sat unmoving as the sliding door
opened and the cool night air fanned her stinging bottom. "You've lost your
bathroom privileges. Go." She felt His eyes on her as she slowly raised
herself and crawled past to the backyard. The door shut and clicked behind
her.
She slunk in the shadows until her eyes had adjusted to the night and she was
certain none of the neighbors could see from their upstairs windows. On the
cold patio flagstones, her lower lip quivered as much from dejection as from
the air which gave her goosepimples and hard nipples.
Finally, with a deep breath, Millie ventured toward the tree near the middle
of the yard, which would provide decent cover. The cool grass soothed her
paws and knees, and after careful progress she at last reached a spot where
she was comfortable and out of the moonlight. Adjusting herself and
spreading her legs as wide as she could, she released and even as the relief
spread over her and the warmth of her pee steamed from the ground onto her
belly, her eyes darted for fear that her little sounds were attracting
attention. She needed to poop but didn't dare, and being careful not to step
on the wet ground she scrambled to the door, scratching the glass urgently.
The blinds were closed. She continued scratching, tears on her cheeks.
When her Master opened the door the comforting smells of kitchen greeted her,
but Millie tramped directly to the bedroom, where she burrowed in the
blankets of her sleeping mat, holding herself until asleep.
They awoke at the same time the next morning and met in the kitchen. Millie
curled drowsily by the heat register while He prepared breakfast. She buried
her face in her arm, disinterested in the new day, until she smelled a sweet,
pleasant aroma and raised her head. Heeled beside His chair, she was
rewarded with a strip of French toast, dipped in maple syrup and lowered to
her mouth. She savored each delicious piece He fed her -- she had almost
forgotten this favorite dish from a lifetime ago -- and gave her Master's
hand appreciative licks between gulps of cold milk she quaffed from His
glass. His hand felt warm on her shoulder as the breakfast filled her belly
and the anguish of the previous day disappeared like the morning fog.
He wiped her face and washed the dishes while she purred against His leg.
Then He surprised her by carrying her to the living room, where sunlight
streamed through the sheer curtains; its warmth felt good on her cheeks as He
laid her on the couch and, unabashed before the windows, undressed and lay
with her, His lips covering hers, His tongue invading her mouth. They had
not lain face-to-face in her entire life as a dog. His hand cradled her head
as He kissed her, His hair brushing her breasts, His legs between hers. She
was wet and opened herself to Him. He took her breath away when He entered
her, and she moaned in His ear while He fucked her to let Him know how
fantastic He was. They came together, their breath and sweat mixing as they
lay motionless.
Finally He rose and she heard Him draw a bath. He returned and she followed
Him to the bathtub, where He helped her in. Standing on her four legs in the
sudsy jasmine-scented water, she dropped her head, swirling her hair in the
water while His hands washed her back and stomach, her legs and her
so-sensitive pussy. He briefly rubbed her puckerhole as she rocked away in a
trance, then He sponged her with water and dried her with an oversized towel.
He carried her to the couch and tucked her beneath an afghan and left.
She had drowsed and wasn't sure how long He had gone, but now He rubbed her
with a sweet lotion. She rolled onto His lap and He massaged her knees and
paws, and brushed her hair until her eyes again closed. In her dreams she
heard a doorbell, but Master continued brushing her hair as she dwelt in the
beating of His heart. The doorbell rang again and now her Master stood,
leaving Millie perplexed on the couch.
Three of them talked in the foyer, her Master with a man and woman, as Millie
curled in a ball facing the back of the couch, her heart racing. The voices
chirped away behind her, seemingly oblivious to her presence. Her Master
offered them wine and led them toward the cellar, as Millie made ready her
escape to the bedroom.
Then she heard the female say, "And this is Millie?" and swallowed hard when
she recognized the voice.
"Yes," said her Master. "Millie? Millie, greet our guests." His voice
carried that hint of iron. She hesitated, then turned over, eyes trained on
the carpet.
"Oh, what a lovely new dog!" the female exclaimed so shrilly that Millie shot
her a glance. Her name was Hannah, a friend of the woman who painted at the
house. She ogled Millie, hands on knees. "Aren't you a darling? Philip,
isn't she darling?"
"Yes, dear, she is," her husband answered in his amiable way. "She's
beautiful."
"I just want to pinch her cheeks."
"Let's select a bottle, shall we?" the Master said. "We'll return. Millie,
stay."
Hannah remained several seconds after they departed, then giggled and went to
join them. As the voices faded into the basement, Millie huddled beneath the
afghan, fighting back tears.
Laying alone, she hardened her heart in anticipation of their return, but her
pulse quickened regardless as they made their way upstairs and into the room.
While the Master went for a corkscrew, Hannah sat by Millie's feet,
playfully tugging the afghan.
"Philip," she called and patted the couch beside her. She lifted Millie's
legs and placed them on her lap as she scooted over to make room. Part of
the blanket had fallen away and Hannah pulled it higher to expose Millie's
thighs, stroking the soft hair there. Philip smiled approvingly and resumed
talking to Millie's Master. Hanna only half-listened to the conversation, so
enthralled was she with Millie.
"And the bouquet, Love?" Philip asked her. "Here we have an excellent
cabernet, and me with these damned allergies!"
"Quite good," Hannah said without looking, "rich." She had discovered the
fine hairs below Millie's bellybutton and traced that silken trail with tiny
brushes of her fingertips. Millie froze, steadied by a look from her Master.
"Well, good," Philip said and turned back to the Master. "For my part, it's
a wonderful vintage, but again, these allergies." His voice trailed off and
Millie's eyes widened: Hannah had placed his hand on Millie's sex; Millie
whined softly. "The flavor is, uh, robust, and, well, it tastes good."
Millie knew from the way he traced her petals that Philip was a gentle lover,
but he wasn't her lover and she remained still, exhaling into a pillow as she
felt her wetness on his hand.
She heard Hannah laugh, "Philip, your ears are red. Have another drink."
Then, like a wire had snapped, Millie pushed unconsciously against the hand
and clutched the pillow as her pussy spasmed. "Oh dear," Hannah snickered.
At once her Master showed them out the door and carried her from the couch to
His bed. He laid her on her stomach and knelt above her, planting kisses on
her neck and cheek as He twined her wrists together with her leash and tied
them to the bedpost. As He lifted her hips she muttered, "Oh god," but He
didn't acknowledge the indiscretion, placing the head of His cock at her
opening and plunging deep inside her. She tried to plant her elbows on the
bed but was too jostled to do anything but arch her back as He pulled her by
her hair. She moaned as He found her sweet spot at the front of her pussy
and they fucked there until she felt the waves build and take her as she came
and came and felt the gratifying spurt of His seed within.
They lay together, His body on hers, hot breath breaking on her shoulder as
He lazily freed her hands. Her eyelids grew heavy in the shadows of late
afternoon, and He whispered, "I shouldn't have invited them. I'll be more
careful of you." He added, "They didn't even notice your paintings," and the
pique in His voice made her smile. She took His fingertip in her lips as she
fell asleep.
Their relationship deepened with trust and happiness, and Master and pet
allowed only the briefest separations from one another, touching continuously
as if bound by a life-sustaining tether. They spoke through contact and
caress, glance and kiss. Their souls suffused as He held her unhurried hours
that turned to night, living inside each other as time stood still in the
quiet house surrounded by old maple trees and wildflowers.
Then an unexpected phonecall tore the peaceful fabric of their lives. Her
Master was concerned about the unusual request to speak to the woman, and
called her to the phone fearing the worst. Though the conversation was brief
He could tell its import, even though the woman had mentioned her father
perhaps twice during the whole of their lives together. With two deep
breaths He prepared Himself for her and whatever her reaction might be.
When she returned to the living room tears streamed from her face. He
cradled her head in His lap and enclosed her in His arms while her muffled
cries filled the room and her body was wracked by sobbing into the night.
Something had broken in her, a final tie to a life of loneliness and sorrow,
and the pain spilled from her soul for all the fear she felt, like from a
newly orphaned girl.
The next morning she awoke nestled against Him, feeling sore and tiny, and
clung to Him desperately.
Millie remained listless in the days that followed, and He Kept her by His
side while she built her strength. Often she burrowed her head against His
chest, soothed by the strong pounding there, and when she emerged, like
reawakening, she peppered Him with kisses and tiny licks and eager sucking on
the red length of His cock. Well pleased, He kissed her hair and massaged
her neck and shoulders until she slept in his arms.
The days grew longer and, ensconced in her Master's love, Millie grew into a
confident and playful dog, happy for His frequent attentions, as when they
exchanged brief gestures of affection: the nuzzling of His leg, a light
patting on her bottom. She remained, however, strictly obedient, not from
any fear of her Master or His rules and punishments, but from her own
strength and pride of devotion to Him. He was often astounded by what an
exemplary pet she had become, often doing His bidding before He had even
spoken to her! Her Master cherished Millie, and rewarded her with His love
and privileges; certainly it was gratifying not having to wear her collar any
longer, but she was positively overjoyed when He told her she could quit her
job if she wanted. She had long regarded the dreary work as a final
impediment from a depressing, limiting past, and she happily severed that
tie, to immerse herself full-time in her new fulfilling life.
And every day the woman appeared at the house, working for hours before the
easel and departing again without a word, leaving Millie alone once more with
her Master.
Into this blissful home one day was introduced an air of excitement. The
Master hired the housekeeper extra days to polish the silver and brass, the
crystal and glass. Several cases of wine arrived, and gourmet foods in
addition to the groceries normally delivered. He brought her to her bath and
sponged her in herbal waters and scented oils, and finally fitted her with a
snug and elegant new collar.
He kissed her and bade her sit while He left the room. She felt majestic and
beautiful, and yet the pit of her stomach tightened with nervousness.
Outsiders were coming to their house: would she be strong enough to carry
herself before them? He would support her, that she could count on, and yet
her anxiety grew until the very skin of her scalp tightened. She
straightened herself, pulling back her bare shoulders. Her nipples were
erect, and she stroked them for reassurance.
A couple minutes later He called her and she followed to the living room, and
stopped. The woman's paintings lined the walls, mounted and fixed with newly
installed track lighting. Millie stared as tears rolled down her face, and
she and her Master held each other a long time. At last He cleared His
throat.
"I think this room is finally shaping up, wouldn't you say?" She nestled her
face in His shoulder; He kissed the top of her head. With the hankerchief He
dried her face, then patted the couch; she climbed up and curled on the spot.
"Stay," He said, "I'm going to get cleaned up." He stroked her shoulder and
left her gazing at the crystal decanters sparkling brilliant shards of color
over the paintings around the rooms.
The Master emerged in His black tuxedo as the first visitors arrived. As he
approached, holding out out His hand for her, His face beamed like He was
seeing her anew, and she went proudly to Him. The servant for the occasion
showed in the guests and her Master greeted them with His beautiful pet at
His side. Millie remained aloof in the mindspace she had prepared for
herself, focusing only on her Master's presence and voice, mindful of her
special role as an extension of Him. Still, she could not help hearing the
effluent praises directed to her Master for His strikingly gorgeous pet, and
yet so stately was her carriage that not one of the guests touched her.
Hearing the compliments, she arched her back and raised her head majestically
to meet her Master's approving touch at the base of her neck.
Their glamorous bearing together was only enhanced by the next visitors, and
Millie's eyes went wide. In walked a portly man with dark Caribbean skin and
a manicured salt-and-pepper beard. On a thin leash he led a dog just like
Millie! Millie maintained her poise, following the other dog from the corner
of her eye, and immediately felt sorry for her, for although she was very
pretty, with blue eyes and copper hair cut in a bob, and pale white skin that
accentuated her lips and the pink soles of her feet, still she moved with an
awkwardness and fear that Millie recognized so well. The man and his nervous
dog stood by the wall observing Millie. Millie wanted to reassure her, but
did not move from her place by her Master's side. To calm his pet, every so
often the black gentleman stooped to caress her pale drop-shaped breasts in
his dark hand.
More dogs appeared as the house filled with visitors, accompanied by their
masters and in silent awe of Millie and her handsome Master, and all in
attendance regarded Millie with deference and admiration. Among the last to
arrive, Millie was surprised to see Philip with his own pet, with brown hair
to the floor, but painfully shy and clumsy in manner. When his pet had
gained her composure enough to lift her head, Millie recognized her as
Hannah, no longer a sassy blonde! Master scratched Millie's head and led her
to the crowd of gentlemen in the dining area, leaving Hannah with the other
dogs by the foot of the couches.
He led her to a wirey white-haired man with bushy angular brows, who with the
wine glass and cheese in his hands seemed to conduct a symphony to the
painting before him. He saw them and turned his expressive hands in their
direction, to Millie. "Exquisite creature," he exclaimed; she flashed her
eyes at him, the way men love. "Fine party, young man. And this," he
motioned to the canvas, "these," indicating the line of paintings, "where
have you been hiding these? The sweep and movement here, and those two over
there," the small man clapped, "quite good. Breathtaking, they are. We will
talk later, yes?" Master took his card and patted his shoulder, leaving him
conversing to the spirit of the painting.
They stopped at the other end of the room, where her Master spoke with a
number of men, all eyeing her rather lasciviously, and she arched her back
and parted her legs a bit, enjoying the cool air and attention there, her
Master's trophy. Then someone touched her, and in a most forbidden spot; she
looked back to see if her Master had already moved on the offender. It was
Hannah. The Master was addressing her, His hand on her collar.
"Have you greeted my Millie?" He said to her. "How do you address another
pet?"
Hannah hesitated, but He urged her forward. Millie fixed her gaze ahead
while she opened herself, and when she felt nose and mouth on her hole she
relaxed her cheeks and thrust herself back and forth for a couple of minutes
as the men chuckled with delight. When she had had her fill, she walked away.
She walked about the room, listening to the laughter and conversation of the
partygoers, overhearing the comments of collectors and aficionados discussing
the colorful canvases before them, works of excitement and vibrant color,
propelled by bold diagonals leading to open skies and infinite worlds of
discovery and boundless possibilities, statements of freedom and endless
glowing days and the transcendental embrace of love.
Cain's stories may be found at http://members.aol.com/pleasecain
deirdre's stories are archived at Transom: http://members.aol.com/deirarchiv
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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