Stray Pet (Open for one M by PM)

[littlewaif]

Not a lot surprised the average New Yorker these days, walking down the street. Today, Aimee was a shocking sight to anyone who saw her. Aimee. It had been years since she even thought of herself as anything but "pet," or "slut." She was a beautiful young woman, 23, with a supple slenderness that tantalized, skin like milk which bruised easily (and had been,) and long white-blond tresses. Her eyes where pale, crystal blue and overflowing with tears.

It was the first time Aimee had cried in years. And she was sobbing. This was her final act of submission to Him. Him. The thought of him gave her shivers. Of fear? Sadness? Arousal? There had been an animal magnetism between the two of them. She had only been 17 when they'd met... and that year she had begun her training to live the life of a submissive. She adored him. She hung on his every word. And she learned obedience quickly. Every Master knows that to own a woman, you must break her in some way. Some just leave more permanent damage. Aimee felt like she'd been shattered.

He had been loving sometimes, cruel more consistently, and as years had passed, he became less and less forgiving, or loving. Still, she ached for him, for a warm touch, whether a carress or a bruising blow. He was all she knew anymore... And yet, he had tired of her. This morning he had woken. She had been waiting for him to wake from the foot of his bed where she slept like a pet. Aimee had dressed him. He'd put her on her chain leash, and they'd set off into the city. They'd walked for a long time, him stroking her hair and being generally sweeter than he'd been in a long time.

After a time, he had come to a stop amidst a cluster of tall, corporate glass buildings. He'd knelt next to her and taken her leash in his hand. He secured it firmly to the parking meter and patted her head softly. Level with her eyes for the first time in recent memory, he spoke to her like a human instead of his beloved thing. "I'm done with you. Stay here until someone finds you who can take care of yourself, girl. You don't know anything about the world. You wouldn't survive a second on your own."

And he walked away. She looked after him desperately, watching his back until it disappeared into the crowd. She knelt on the freezing pavement in no more than a thin nightie (not even panties,) and a leash. A small nameplate gleamed at her milky throat. "Kitten." She could have easily undone the leash. But she had her orders. And though they were the last from him she had ever recieved... she'd been trained better than to deny him.

(Looking for a new Master. PM me with a general character description to join.)

 

[littlewaif]

Bump? Noone's interested?

 

[littlewaif]

Come on... surely someone's gonna take me up on this one?

 

[Incubusknight]

.....

 

[Tuomas]

Thomas walked with his thoughts turned inwards. He was reviewing his latest interview at one of the large manufacturing firms in the city as he wandered. It went good; he got the deal. But he always left these meetings with the feeling that he could have done better. Not that he thought he could do better, but that the people he met with could be better. All the executives he met with were tallentless -men and women who reached their positions of power by climbing up the brown nose ladder. And what they don't have in ability, they make up for with arrogance. Thomas could only shake his head at the collective folly of the world he lived in. Thrived in, he reminded himself. All those morons he had to pay lip service to were the ones that-

He stopped dead in his tracks and swung around. There was a girl in a nightie kneeling on the pavement. He shook his head, to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. But, there were a lot of other people staring at her as they walked by, so he was not the only one. He wasn't shocked by her leash or what she was wearing, but how beautiful she was. Her hair, her complexion, even her small hands she clapsed together were as if his dreams had suddenly materialized in front of him. He was so caught up in her perfection, that it was a minute before he started to be aware of anything but her.

Passerbies seemed afraid of her, even though she was clearly distraught and crying. No one went close to help her. Some pointed fingers, and some jeered. Thomas could only stare in horror. Then, someone tossed a few coins at her, like she was a street show or beggar. Thomas was incensed. Without thinking, he stalked over to the girl and practically tore the leash off the parking metre. He jerked her to her feet, and with only a growled, "come!" pulled her forward along the street. Although he was oblivious the the crowd, people stepped back from the pair, such was the anger his demeanor bespoke.

 

[littlewaif]

She whimpered softly before her freezing knees were yanked from the pavement, skinning them softly. She gasped, sniffling, but "came," none-the-less, half-running half-crawling behind him as he literally drug her down the street. She was half-relieved, half-terrified, and all adrenaline.

She looked after the man who was pulling her, but had barely caught a glance at his face. She wondered if there would be more kindness in them than there had been in His. She shivered, and sobs racked her anew.

She was cold, and gripped with gooseflesh, teeth chattering, and nipples clearly visible through the insubstantial cloth.

Where was she going? Her feet ached on the cold, rough pavement.

 

[Tuomas]

Thomas had been walking, because his apartment was only a block away. He lived in one of those fashonable buildings that populated the centre of the city, not because he cared, but because it was convenient for business. His neighbors were all posh citizens, haughty members of society's elete. He did not remember if they had a policy on pets.

The doorman only raised his eyebrows as he quickly let Thomas through. Down the marble hall, with ornate fixtures trapsed the pair, gathering even more stares than on the street.

Once in the privacy of his tenthfloor apartment, Thomas stopped. She stood in the middle of his reception room; with it's well-apointed furnishings, and large windows that looked over the city. Thomas walked around her, inspecting his new acquisition. He paused, standing in front of her and picked up the nameplate.

"Kitten," he said. "I like it." Then he ripped the tag off and threw it out the window. "Now," he continued, taking his handkerchief out of his pocket, and cleaning up her face. "The only reason I'm going to be mean to you, is if you make me. Do as you are told, and I'll look after you. You'll be happy. OK?" He brushed some strands of hair out of her face and smiled.

 

[littlewaif]

Kitten nodded, almost immediately forgetting her given name as soon as his lips fit around the word.. "Kitten." She swallowed, softly, her voice fragile and shaky, still, sniffling to calm the torrent of tears that was only now dying down. "Yes Sir," she said softly, more instinct than intentional submission.

She dropped softly onto her knees and looked to his feet, as she'd been trained, and waited to hear more about him... who he was... and what he wanted and expected of her.

She wondered where she was... if this was his home. It looked expensive. More expensive than anyplace Kitten had ever been. And yet her manner was gentle, soft, refined, like she'd been born into royalty. Her white blonde hair was tangled, a little, but usually shone, completely without flaw, and brushed to a gleaming perfection. Her eyes were watering and red, but typically were crystal clear and stunning. And her body... was covered in bruises. Handprints. But promised to heal like the purest milk.

 

[Tuomas]

"Excelent!" Thomas' voice boomed. While Kitten gathered herself and looked about her, he busied himself starting a fire in the hearth. A real one -and it had cost him a lot of bickering with the landlord. Why have a fire place if you are not going to have a fire? Once it was cackling nicely, he turned back to the girl.

"First things first," he declared. "Whenever you bring a new pet into the house, the first thing you must do is make sure it's nice and clean. You never know where it might have been crawling around before. So, I will have that..." he shook his hand at her torn nightie. He knew it would take her a while to get her bearings and sort things out. In the mean time, it was better she was kept doing things, and distracted from any sad thoughts she had.

 

[littlewaif]

Kitten blushed crimson at her state. She curled her arms around her body softly. She did need a bath. If inspected closely, she would almost assuredly be filled with traces of another Master. Her cheeks burned. She was such a confused Kitten... but happy to have some guidance. Still, the foundation of her life had crumbled in one day, and be it under reconstruction or not, she was still shaken. The thought of her old owner's handprints on her body shamed her, and she wanted desperately to be bathed and groomed and warmly curled in one of her new Master's dress shirts, perhaps. "Yes Sir..." she responded, to his statement... "Where should I wash?"

 

[Tuomas]

Thomas was happy that Kitten was taking an interest in her surroundings. But, he was also unhappy that she hadn't done as he told. He really didn't want to have to start out by putting his own handprints on her before he had erased the other ones. He knew she must be confused and needed some time to rebuild her foundation. And you always need a good foundation to build on. She was so beautiful, so perfect; even her manner was gentle and refined. He knew she could become something great, if only he gave her the patientience and atention she deserved.

"Kitten," he said, letting a slight edge creep into his otherwise deep, soothing voice. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I told you to give me your garment."

 

[littlewaif]

(Sorry, I misread, I interpreted "I will have that," as "I will have a clean pet." Eep!)

Kitten squirmed softly, blushing even more fevrently, not wanting to start off on a bad foot. With trained (and yet, obviously inate) grace, she slipped the garment over her head, entirely bare underneath it. She folded the garment neatly and laid it at his feet, trembling softly... She wasn't really cold anymore. The fire was crackling warmly in the hearth and her chill had vanished, but she was so aware that her every move was crucial now. She was like an abused dog, so scared of a raised hand (or in this case, a gleaming eye) that she was difficult even to pamper without her pulse speeding with nervousness.

 

[Tuomas]

(Sorry; rereading it I do realize it's confusing. And, someone else has already chided me for it.... I should spank her )

Thomas smiled at her, seeing her nervousness, and wanting her to feel more at ease. He realized he would need to pay special atention to what he said, to make it as clear as possible.

He leaned down and picked up the cloth. "Thank you," said, and flicked it over his shoulder into the fire. He didn't even watch the poliesterine fibers explode in a whoosh of flame.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up." He reached out for her arm and pulled her to her feet, then took her hand and walked her off to the bathroom. It was a rather large room, with an immense marble tub in the middle, a large sink counter on the left, and a curtain covered the lavatory on the right. "Get into the tub, Kitten. On your hands and knees."

 

[littlewaif]

She did so, with warmth in her eyes for him... for the first time he saw the true spark of her frisky, eager-to-please personality as she trembled slightly, lip bitten with anticipation for the warm water in the huge, luxuriant tub. Despite her dishevelled appearance, she was beautiful, just like this. Her knees were bruised and skinned and ached against the marble... but not too badly. She was content... excited a little, even.

 

[Tuomas]

Thomas smiled to himself as he got the first glimpse of her personality. He felt there could be an inner beauty that matched her outer perfection.

Once Kitten was in the tub, Thomas removed his shirt and sat down by the tub to turn on the water. He adjusted the temperature a bit, so it would be just right, before directing the flow through the telephone shower. (Or whatever those things are called; I didn't major in plumbing ) He pulled her hair over to one side, so it wouldn't get into her face and then sprayed the water over her back. He watched all the rivulets running offer he skin, as he moved the shower head up and down her back.

Once she was thoroughly wet, he took up a bottle of liquid soap, and poured it over her back. He gently lathered and spread the soap over her form with one hand, while the other kept the shower nozzile over other parts of her body. He took particular delight in watching how the suds trickled over her shoulders and around her side to glide over her breasts. They would accumulate on her nipples before dropping to the marble belowe. He noticed how other suds would sneak down her back, and disappear between her thighs, to slide down her legs. Thomas chuckled and slipped his soapy hand around to clean her stomach.

"How's the bath, Kitten?" he asked.

 

[littlewaif]

She had been cold, with scrapes and bruises stinging, and as the hot water pounded her skin, she melted back into his touch, her pale coloration flushing softly with pleasure. She cuddled next to the area of the tub where he was seated and her eyes went up to his with pleasure, and hope, her body stinging with pleasurable renewal, feeling sparked with warmth and imbued with sex and life and awareness again. Her tiny hands clung to the side of the bathtub, and in a voice, not at all childlike or naive, but soft and earnest, and breakable, but full of hope, she asked softly "Are you my new Master?"

 

[Tuomas]

He smiled at her, and traced the line of her jaw with a soapy finger. "Yes, Kitten. But, not until you are fully clean. I don't like other people's filth on my property."

Thomas picked up the soap bottle again. "Now, turn over and lay on your back. Keep your arms away from your body."

 

[littlewaif]

Kitten did as she was told, laying down completely, legs extended, in the huge bathtub, her arms floating away from her sides. Her stomach instinctively lurched... this would be the last time He would be in her. She soothed the little panic that stirred in her, and her eyes looked up at this man, surveying his face, both kind and dominant. She liked the possessiveness he displayed already... She took comfort in it... and though to think you knew a man too quickly was dangerous, she couldn't imagine him leaving a pet on a parking meter.

 

[Tuomas]

Thomas directed the water over her exposed body, then poured the soap over her. He ran a line down from her chest over her stomach and almost between her legs. Then, he playfully added two drops over her nipples.

Starting at her shoulders, he spread the soap over her skin, massaging her nervous muscles. He wished the soap would wash away the bruises, too. But, not everything was how he wanted it.

Slowly he spread his hands further down her chest, over the top of her breasts, and down to her armpits. Back up over her ribs and down her sternum to come over her breasts. He cradled her mamaries for a bit, taking in their size and shape. He liked them, they felt soft and the right size for him. His thumb was busilly running circles over her nipples before he knocked himself out of his riverie and went back to spreading the soap over her stomach and downwards.

 

[littlewaif]

She basked in the hot water, and his attention, and his touch. Her golden hair floated in the water around her like a halo of white fire. Her eyes rarely caught his as she was trained to deferentially lower her eyes, but when they did, they bore into his heart. She had never been formally trained for the task, but an inate skill of hers was to conquer men in her own, tiny way. To bury herselves in their hearts so immediately and so deeply she was inextricable. She bit her lip, wiggling sweetly under his fingertips. She tried to ignore the embarrassment and slight shame that was coupled with his obviously noticing her bruises. She hoped he didn't assume she was a bad pet because of it...

 

[Tuomas]

Thomas loved the way she wiggled under his fingers and hands. She has such silky skin; so soft and love- ... Soft? Was he going soft? Treating her so nice; giving her a nice bath and caring about her bruises. What was she doing to him? He was a tough, demanding, callous, domineering man!! He would make a point of having her do something to show it... but later. He was having too much fun playing with the water over he body and watching how she wiggled. Her blush as he poked at her bruises amused him.

Gathering up more soap in his fingers, he slid his hand down between her legs and over her mound. The water from the shower washed suds down over her, as he brought his fingers up along the ridge of her lips, and then down again. He played with her pussy for a while, gliding his fingertips along the inside of her lips, just barely touching them and making currents with the warm water.