Pets 2: Pani's Story (14 page)

Papa removed the sleeve, freeing her arms. She tried to reach for his shoulders, but he took her wrists and pushed them behind her back again, placing her hands flat upon each of his knees so that she could maintain her own balance. The position forced her shoulders back and offered up her breasts. With tears still drying on her face, she watched, her moist lips parting as he bent to catch the tip of one nipple in his mouth. The heat of it made her breath catch. Heart racing, her stomach tightened and her shoulders convulsively hunched, abruptly breaking the contact between his kiss and her flesh.

Her breath caught all over again, and Judy trembled. With the phantom sensation of his kiss still lingering at the tip of her right breast, she waited for him to decide what her punishment should be for that involuntary act. To be honest, she didn’t know what she feared the most: to be spanked again as sore as she was or to endure another thrusting round with the phallic plug already imbedded so deeply inside her. What if he reached for the next largest size? She shuddered, already bracing to go meekly back over his lap in the hopes that cooperation might lessen the coming pain.

But if her reluctance had upset him, Papa didn’t show it. Instead, he lay his hand against the center of her back, gently encouraging her to offer herself back to him once more. Switching breasts, he opened his mouth to engulf her other nipple in another hot kiss, flicking it with the tip 61

of his tongue, pulling and suckling until she felt each strong pull reaching all the way down to her womb. Her hips twitched, rocking against his thigh, feeling the pressure of the plug as her sore buttocks bumped against his leg. She almost thought she wouldn’t have minded taking the next largest size right now, the need to feel something so long, thick, full and hard pumping in and out of her growing, at least until the heat of his mouth lay one final kiss upon the aching tip of her breast and then withdrew.

The wet of his saliva dried cool against her skin as his hands smoothed down her waist to her hips, giving her a slight push until she climbed off his lap to stand on her own. Her mons ached, drawing her hands to cup at the apex of her thighs where, slick and hot and throbbing, the touch of her own fingers was not what she wanted most. Apparently, it wasn’t what he wanted either, for he seized her wrists and pulled them away, baring her sex to his appreciative gaze once more. He tucked her hands behind her head, then held up a single, stern finger.

Stay, Pani. Stay.

Locking her fingers in the tangles of her hair, she watched him walk away from her. Back into the kitchen where he had left the majority of the things he’d bought at the human pet store.

He picked up the little chair and carried it across the living room, setting it in the corner of the living room, facing the wall. A bad girl’s corner; Judy’s shoulders sagged.

He took the cans of formula into the kitchen, vanishing only briefly before returning, a second cup of hot coffee in his hand. He picked up the chest harness—the only item remaining on the table—as he passed it and came back to the desk. Setting his coffee down, he sat and began to buckle her into it.

He dressed her like a doll, threading her arms through the shoulder straps, adjusting the lay of the harness around each breast, and tightening the buckles at her back until it fit her so tightly that she couldn’t wedge so much as a finger between it and her skin. The last strap to be tightened down was the long, narrow strip that ran down the length of her spine before threading up between her buttocks, pressing against the base of the anal plug and cutting up into the folds of her sex as he brought it up over her stomach and tightly buckled the tail to the front of the harness. He cinched it down to the very last available hole, bringing Judy right up onto the tips of her toes with a cringing wail. Pinching the lobe of her ear between two fingers, he marched her to the corner and forced her down to sit upon that Bad Girl chair. He spared her little sympathy when the harness strap all but cut her in half.

Judy grabbed the walls, pressing her hands flat upon the smooth surface just to keep from grabbing at the harness. This was the worst strap of all, the tightest and most painful, and it was also the only one that she could easily reach, yet she didn’t. She held herself painfully still, hardly daring to breathe much less move, lest the edges of that narrow strip of leather cut any deeper into her. The trickle of moisture between her thighs, hot and sticky, begged to be wiped away, but she didn’t do that either, afraid that her fingers might come away bloody.

The pain made her sweat. Her gasps became mews and then moans, low and throaty and accompanying each hot, shaky breath that she managed to draw in. “Please…” But that’s how Papa left her. He returned to his desk and his coffee, leaving her to suffer the discomfort as quietly as she knew how, each breath seeming to make the harness creak but never loosen, not even just a little.

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Pain, like arousal, pulsed along the slit of her sex. The harness straps cut into her shoulders, around her ribs, slicing at the sides of her breasts and down between her nethercheeks, with only that one small area protected by the wide base of the anal plug being spared the razor-like pressure. But that was a hellish discomfort all its own, the feeling of being stretched so full and deep, with no relief looming anywhere in her near future.

Judy tipped back her head, the coppery cascade of her hair falling down her back as she stared pleadingly up at the ceiling and then hopelessly back down at the floor. She tried widening her legs to ease the pressure against her clit, but that only heightened the slicing pressure between her shoulders and her buttocks, and the plug driven deep into her back passage felt all the thicker and harder, more invasive somehow, though she couldn’t think how that was possible.

Unable to stand it any long, she haltingly wept out, “P-please, P-papa…Oh!”

“Hush.” His voice, deep and unwavering, brooked no disobedience, and so she clamped her lips together and tried to endure. The minutes bled agonizingly one into the next, until it felt as if hours had passed before he finally called her name. “Pani.” As much as she didn’t want to spend another minute sitting on this chair, Judy dreaded moving even more. She bowed her head, her first attempt to stand dragging a low, wailing moan from deep inside her chest. “Oh no, oooh-ugh!” She dragged herself up the wall but then stood there, leaning heavily against it, her trembling legs splayed wide apart in the hopes that the strap would cut less deeply. Wetness trickled down the inner slopes of her thighs and, almost afraid of what she would see, Judy hesitantly glanced back at the hard wooden seat of the Bad Girl’s chair. As much as she thought it would be, there was no blood, just a pool of sticky arousal and sweat.

Sitting patiently in his chair, Papa beckoned to her and patted his knee.

The fifteen feet or so that separated them might as well have been fifteen miles. Just the thought of having to walk to him felt so overwhelmingly impossible. Crumpling, Judy bent under the weight of it. Her shoulders sagged, shaking as she covered her face with one hand, hiding behind it when she broke down and simply wept.

Giving in to pity, Papa came and got her, once more settling her on his lap when he returned to his chair. He peeled her out of that harness one too-tight strap at a time. He began with the most painful one, flossed between her buttocks and thighs, and Judy clung to his shoulders, burying her face against the side of his neck in gratitude. She tried not to tense when he took hold of the butt plug. She tried to relax and just let it flow out of her as he pulled. Sore as she was, it didn’t leave easily, and her mewling whimpers turned once more into full-throated cries when she was forced to accommodate the passing of the widest part. But oh, how she was grateful when it finally came out. Her hands stroked his wide shoulders; she caressed the slope of his neck with both tears and kisses while he fondled and caressed her bottom, massaging her aching passage and testing how easily she opened for him now.

He comforted her with low, rumbling words, some of which she didn’t understand but which she echoed back at him anyway in the hopes that it would show her willingness to make him happy. It made him smile, at least. And Judy sighed, laying her head wearily upon his shoulder.

Smiles were good. Smiles were a start. She could live with smiles. And with bottles and foul-63

tasting formula, and diapers and sleepsacks that buckled at the neck like a second collar. She could live with it because she had no choice, and because good girls either learned how to adjust to whatever their papas asked of them or they paid the consequences.

Judy shuddered, turned her face away from the box of painful anal plugs and the crumpled harness lying on the floor. She clung to the side of his neck, determined to do whatever she had to, whatever he wanted of her, determined to be good.

“Good girl,” he crooned, caressing the curve of her cheek with his fingertips.

“Good girl, Pani,” she echoed back.

Pani, property of Papa.

Closing her eyes, she let Judy go.

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Pani awoke the next morning with the sun shining through the curtain into her eyes and Papa’s hand on her ass, softly squeezing and rubbing, patiently coaxing her to wake. She wondered if she shouldn’t feel any different; she was a little surprised that she didn’t feel the slightest bit sore, not when he gave each buttock a teasing pinch and especially not when he dipped two fingers in between to test the tightness of her bottom’s passage.

She tried to hold still but ended up squirming, trying to roll her bottom away and reposition on her back where, hopefully, he might be tempted to play with her pussy instead.

“No, Pani,” he said, and repositioned her, flat on her stomach once more, and now with her legs spread apart.

Burying her face flat in the pillow, she smothered under the weighty embarrassment of being so intimately examined, grunting softly when he pinched her bottom hole open, sighing in spite of herself when his fingers finally wandered down to skim along the slit of her sex. Her body responded pleasantly to that touch, humming and heating, throbbing between her legs as he gave her pussy three soft slaps and then got off the bed.

“Pani,” he called, and walked naked from the room.

Significantly less comfortable without her clothes, she crawled into yesterday’s discarded dress and then followed him, her bare feet padding softly down the hall to the bathroom.

They showered together. He shaved them both, brushed her teeth and then her hair, twisting the waist length locks into twin little-girl braids. Just before they left the bathroom, he dressed her in a fresh baby-doll dress, this one with a white apron down the front that made her feel very much like Alice in Wonderland, albeit in bright, sunshine-yellow instead of Robin-egg blue.

Taking her downstairs, he strapped her into her highchair while he cooked their breakfast. It looked like eggs. It might have been eggs. She pushed what he gave her around on her plate, trying to make it look like she’d eaten some without ever putting the smallest scrambled crumb into her mouth. She already knew what it would taste like, and she’d much rather suck on a bottle than be forced to eat this stuff.

Papa wasn’t fooled, though. Eventually, he did fix her a bottle and gave it to her to drink while he washed up. It wasn’t the tastiest thing she’d ever eaten, but it was better than starving and definitely better than any of the solid foods he’d tried to feed her. By the time he was finished washing the breakfast dishes, she had sucked down half of what he’d given her.

He took the bottle from her, held it up to gauge how much liquid was left, then leveled a disapproving frown back down at her. He gave her back the bottle, then gestured for her to

‘bottom’s up’.

She sucked somewhat sulkily, but she drained every last obtainable drop and finally handed back the bottle empty when he reached for it again. And she didn’t even have to be spanked first. She was really rather proud of herself for that.

Papa seemed less impressed, but he did pat her head and unbuckle her to take her back into the bathroom.

“Good girl Pani?” she asked, tapping her fingertips nervously together when he began to pull 65

those nasty enema supplies back out of the cupboard.

“Yes,” he replied distractedly, setting them down by the sink and opening the faucet to let the water warm up.

Her bowels beginning to cramp already, Pani stepped quietly backwards towards the door.

Not wanting any part of what she knew was coming, she managed to get it quietly open, but sensing something amiss, he glanced up just as she was tiptoeing into her escape. Catching the scruff of her dress, Papa pulled her back into the bathroom, both shutting and locking the door.

“No,” he told her sternly, and marched her over to stand at the sink. Her reflection looked miserably sad.

This time, rather than removing her dress entirely, Papa simply pinned the incredibly short skirt up around her shoulders and stripped her panties away. No longer brave enough to openly defy him, she did still groan and begrudge, and she made very little attempt to hide her reluctance on being a party to his bottom fixation.

Pretending not to notice, Papa took a small jar from the medicine cabinet and removed the lid. He dipped the tip of his finger inside, and with one hand on the back of her neck, bent her over the sink while he lubed her bottom inside and out. Her mirrored reflection winced and squirmed and Pani groaned her protests, but none of it stopped Papa from inflicting on her a second round of dreaded enemas.

The rest of the morning was spent lying across his lap while he played with his inserts, and little by little, Pani learned how far she could push his patience. She wriggled constantly, crying and waving her hands back in several feeble attempts to block him from upgrading one plug to the next, or to stop him from bouncing the current one in and out of her in that painful sexual pantomime. Twice she tried to remove the plugs herself and both attempts ended in spankings, but nothing prematurely stopped the stretching. Not until he’d finally reached the last and largest size. He let her take it gradually, sinking it slowly in and out of her, his shallow and steady thrusts growing deeper by the second, ignoring her grunts and gasps as he forced her to take more and more until the widest girth of the base finally popped in past the dusky rim of her anus, sparking that now familiar jolt of very real pain.