Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Forced Pup Play

I've known pups for years, and never quite got anything about pup headspace. I always thought the gear was either adorable or, in some cases, fucking hot, but the idea of actually role playing as a pup never resounded with me.

That is, until someone sent me this story. It pretty much takes a bunch of elements from fantasies I've had like my "Control is Best When Stolen" story, and applies those elements to pup play. Needless to say, mixing force into the equation piqued my interest. Hopefully this'll cast some new light on how a pup dynamic could potentially develop.before readily dismissing it as I had previously done.


"Student Living," by ManaPuppy

I whimpered, my sobs muffled by the penis gag locked into my mouth. So close. I had been so fucking close.

I had been so sure he’d been sleeping, he was grunting and all I heard from his room was deep, steady breath. He had come home exhausted after track practice, his shirt soaked through from the sweat off his chest, hair matted against his head. He had left me leashed to the coffee table with some water, naked, locked in fist-mitts and chastity. Waiting. When he came through from the outside he greeted me just as he’d done the past three days, “Hello Milo.” He said, smiling. Fuck, I hate that smile. I had spent the entire 2 hours he’d been gone seething, just as I had the past 3 days. I didn’t know who this fucker thought he was, but I knew I sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “My. Name. Is. Alex.” I growled at him. He grunted. With a soft ‘whoomfph’ his track bag dropped on the floor, and there he was, in flight: six feet of blonde-haired jock, lunging toward me. Excellent. Come at me, bitch. I lunged at him in the next instant, bound fists extended, hoping to take him down. He jerked to the side, rolling, I carried on through the air…until I hit the end of the leash. The chain of the leash jangled, snapping against the table. The table was bolted to the ground, so there was nowhere for the force to go, my body carried forward, jerked back by the collar Tyler had locked around my neck. My ass spun away from my head, legs jerking toward Tyler’s bedroom, my fists flying up to my neck as the collar pulled tight, my body rebounding against the floor. I sputtered. Breathed. Barely had time to recover before Tyler grabbed the chain, dragging me, collar, corpse and all, across the floor. One strong arm looped under my abdomen, drawing me, kneeling, parallel with his side. “I’ve told you before, puppy. Your name is Milo now.” Tyler’s other hand — I assume it was his hand — slammed full force into my right ass-cheek. I screamed. Tyler tightened his grip with the arm holding me on my knees. “That was a human sound, Milo. Try again.” He drew his arm again, and once again slammed his hand across my ass, fire spreading from his hands. “FUCK!!” I screamed, tears welling. “NO!” Tyler roared, spanking me again. “NO HUMAN NOISES!” I started to cry, my breathing coming in ragged gasps. Tyler was relentless, and emotionless. I didn’t struggle — couldn’t. The hand that held me, had my chain as well, I couldn’t move my head, let alone excape his grasp.

Finally, his rage seemed sated. Tyler rubbed his hand gently, almost lovingly across my abused ass, and unwound his other arm from my body. I collapsed, shaking to the ground, tears still streaming down my face. The whole thing had probably only taken a couple of minutes, but I have no tolerance for pain — never have. I’m pretty, not sexy. Cute, not masculine. Now somebody was taking advantage of that. And I, ashamed as I was, was losing the strength to fight. Fuck. How the fuck am I going to get out of here? I couldn’t think. Couldn’t form words. All I could do was whimper, my mouth closed, a long, sustained tone that spoke to hurt, and abuse and sadness. Trembling, I looked down, turned away, completely still, barely aware that I was making any sound at all.

Tyler knelt down then. He reached forward with both hands, and took my face in them, he turned his face up, toward me. My tear-splotched cheeks, red and angry from yelling looked up into his chiseled features. “…good dog. Good Milo.” He said, his words quiet, a breath. “That’s right. Dogs don’t speak. They do whine, though. Good boy.” Keeping one hand on my cheek, he raised the other to my hair, petting me gently. His fingers tangled in my curly hair, almost absently. He maintained eye contact. …I didn’t do anything. Slowly, the hand that had been on my face worked its way downward, playing over my chest, and coming to rest on the metal cage that enclosed my cock. He thumbed the cage, then reached under, his fingers stroking my balls. I jerked away, squeaking in fear. He gripped my balls, chuckling. “Sorry we had to get you fixed, Milo.” He teased. “I didn’t feel like cleaning up after you if you hump things. …besides.” He added, his eye glinting. “If you’re a very -very- good boy, maybe I’ll let you cum.” He released my balls, standing. “M’taking a nap.” He slumped off to the back of the hallway, where I knew his room was.

I waited. I didn’t move. I swear, I barely fucking breathed. At first it was the shock. Tyler punished me every time I defied him, but usually it was bondage or making me go without food, or making me eat something disgusting. That was the first time he had ever hit me. Then I noticed that he’d forgotten his track bag. And I knew what I was going to do. As soon as I was sure he was asleep, I started. Carefully, slowly, I took the chain of the leash in my mouth, lifting it off the ground so it wouldn’t jangle. Then I moved across the floor, as softly as I could, crawling toward the navy hold-all. Lowering my head to the ground I released the chain, and then started working on the zipper. It felt like an eternity: every inch was hard-won, trying to make sure the bag didn’t make that sound that zippers make. …as soon as I got the hold-all open, I knew this was going to work. …I was going home. There, on top of his street clothes, was Tyler’s wallet, and inside, his keys. Fuck, I didn’t care that I was naked or had a collar locked on me. All I had to do was get out of this room, and anybody, any sane fucking person would help me. Once I’d found the key to the fist-mitts, I managed to work the key into the lock of my right hand with my teeth. As soon as it was off I unclipped the leash, sprang to the door, used the deadbolt key Tyler kept on the same ring to open the internal lock, and wrenched on the door.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" …somebody was screaming. That was the next thing I noticed, before I even knew it was me. Then, black.

The world swam together. I was still in the living room, and my head was fucking killing me. …this is where you joined us. I was later able to figure out what had happened. Tyler had pulled me away from the door by my hair, and slammed me to the ground. My head had rebounded and I had fallen unconscious.

Tyler was sitting behind me, petting me like an angry, obsessive child might pet a cat: too hard, too deep, as if he was trying to exfoliate my skin as he rubbed my arm. “….I thought we were doing so well.” He said, his voice smooth and deep. Slow. Deliberate. “It was my fault. I need to be more careful. I can’t have you running off, you could get hurt.”

I was still trying to figure out where in the living room we were. I realised, eventually, that we were by the sofa, I was on the ground, he was sitting up on the sofa. “Still,” he continued, “you do need to be punished for trying to escape. I had been letting you be my human pet up until now, I took away your hands, true, but I didn’t take away anything else. Clearly you can’t be trusted with any of your appendages, so.” He patted my arms. …that’s when I realised what he had done. He had cling-filmed my forearms to my biceps and my calves to my thighs so that I couldn’t possibly use my hands or stand. He had also locked the aforementioned penis gag in my mouth. I squirmed, panicking. My knees had kneepads taped onto them, as did my elbows, so I could balance myself, if precariously. I tried to walk back toward the door, fell. Felt nauseous. He shook his head.

"It doesn’t have to be this way, Milo. Just until you’re trained. Then you can earn back some of your body. In the meantime, we’ll keep you like this for a few hours at a time so you can walk around the house. I can’t keep you like this all the time, though, it’s too stressful on your body. So, the rest of the time, you can be tied to the bed in the spare room so you can stretch out your limbs in between sessions. Okay, boy?"

I grunted, whimpering. ‘Please’ was what I was trying to say. What I had been saying, every day since I had come here. All that came out was a wet slurping whine. I kept trying to get up onto all fours. Kept falling over. I desperately wanted out. I felt that even if I could just get to the front door, it might make a difference. Silently, Tyler unzipped himself, pulled his cock out and started stroking. Watching me struggle.

I felt sick. …still, I kept trying. I knew I would get out. I KNEW it.

1 comment:

  1. This story comes from ManaPuppy on tumblr right?
    You don't happen to have his other three chapters since his tumblr account was deactivated? :/

    ReplyDelete