by Faith Ryan
I say nothing. What do I say to the man who has kidnapped me and kept me locked in a cage? ‘Sorry about your marital problems, think you could let me out to stretch for a bit?’ Yeah, that would go over well.
“Okay.” He pulls out the key fob and hits the button to unlock my cage. “Play time and exercise first.”
He grabs a collar and leash hanging on the wall. They’re near enough to the cage for me to know he placed them there deliberately. They’re a matching set made with black leather and are embossed with silver decorative studs. They appear unused, and I wonder if he bought them just for me. The thought of him purchasing the collar with me in mind makes my body flush hot beneath my hair. Am I special to him? Or does he buy each of his pets their own toys and supplies? Why do I care? I mentally push those thoughts away. I can’t allow myself to think of him in any other way than as my captor.
Uri’s gentle when he secures the collar around my neck, taking care to not snag my hair in the fastenings. He brushes a hand down my back, giving me the touch I so badly want. He strokes me a few more times, petting me before guiding me out of the cage and attaching the leash to the collar.
“I hope you understand why I have to do this. The leash won’t always be necessary, but until I’m sure your loyalty is true and not a trick to lure me into letting you loose, this is how it has to be.”
I nod in acquiescence and stretch my arms and legs. The cage isn’t overly small, but there isn’t enough space for me to fully extend my limbs. I’m grateful that Uri doesn’t say anything, instead he watches me silently before tugging on the leash to lead me up the stairs.
The basement leads directly into the kitchen and I can smell the bacon and eggs Uri must have eaten for breakfast. The scent makes my stomach rumble and my mouth salivate. I’d do anything for something more than the healthy homemade ‘dog food’ Uri feeds me.
He doesn’t slow down or stop, heading straight toward a door on the far side of the kitchen I assume leads outside. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you the leftover bacon when we come back inside.”
The thought of bacon, or any proper food after almost two weeks on Uri’s dog food is enough to get me to follow behind him like the good puppy he expects me to be.
Outside I notice the yard is fenced in. I can’t see Uri’s neighbors, if there are any, and that means they can’t see me either. I debate calling out for help but knowing Uri, the collar he put on me is probably one of those shock collars to keep dogs obedient. Turning my attention away from the fence, I see what appears to be some kind of training course.
“What’s that?” I point to the setup.
“That’s for your training. We’re just going to play today, get you some exercise, work your limbs. I’ll show the different activities later.”
Uri sounds excited about showing me the training exercises he’s designed for me. I don’t want to be his show dog, but if it’ll get me out of the basement sooner and for longer, I can pretend that doing tricks and jumps for him is how I want to spend my days. It has nothing to do with his uplifted mood. Nothing at all.
“Come on, Wren. Let me show you what I bought.” Uri sounds like a happy little boy, excited to show his best friend his new toys. He said he has no family, and I’m thinking he doesn’t have any friends either. Outside of the mysterious Amalie, anyway.
I don’t want to understand Uri, though the more I’m around him the more I do. I want to keep hating him, but I think we have more in common than I could ever have imagined. Maybe I can help him while also finding my way out of this captivity he’s forced upon me.
Six
Urijah
I lead Wren to the shed where I store all the toys for the animals I bring home and train as pets for Amalie. I usually keep and reuse the same props and tools for each of them, but for some reason I found myself purchasing new things with Wren in mind. Each time I picked up an item at the pet store, I wondered if Wren would like it.
I’ve stayed away from him these last few days, and spent them trying to reconnect with Amalie, but he found his way into my mind, regardless. He invaded private thoughts, showing me visions of what could be for the three of us. Amalie seemed to sense whenever I was thinking of Wren. She’d instantly pick a fight then ignore me for the rest of the day. I’ve lost sleep and the distance between me and Amalie has grown, but still I want to care for Wren and make him happy. I want him to fully be a part of our family in a way our other pets never could be.
I pull out the key to the shed and unlock the padlock. As I unwind the chain holding the door closed a bout of nerves comes over me. What if Wren thinks the items I bought for him are stupid? What if he doesn’t like them? I hesitate to finish pulling the chain away, debating taking Wren’s leash and dragging him back to the house and locking him away again.
“Is something wrong, Uri?”
I shake my head. “No. Just thinking about what to use first. Stay.”
I flip on the light and look around. I settle on keeping it simple since today should be about exercise and play. I shouldn’t have kept him cooped up for so long. Grabbing a brand-new package of tennis balls, I turn to go back outside only to see Wren at the door peering in.
“I thought I told you to ‘stay’.” I stomp toward him, flip off the light and close the door.
“Sorry.” Wren looks down, completely chastised by the anger in my voice. Maybe it won’t take me as long as I thought to train him, and to fully break him in.
“Don’t worry about it. How about we play fetch?”
He opens his mouth and closes it. I’m expecting him to mouth off again about how he’s not a dog, but he surprises me with his response.
“I like fetch. What dog doesn’t?”
I narrow my eyes at him. I was just thinking how he seems more docile, submissive, but now my suspicious nature is telling me it’s a ruse. And I was falling for it. He needs to be punished for believing he could fool me. Later. For now, I’ll play along. I want to see how far he’s willing to take this.
I unhook the leash from his collar. It’s not necessary, not while he’s pretending to be such a good dog right now. Taking one of the tennis balls from the package, I drop the rest to the ground at my feet. I don’t build up to the throw, just cock my arm back and let it fly.
Wren runs after the ball, snatches it from the ground and tosses it from hand to hand on his way back to me. I can see a peek of his white teeth through his hair. He looks like he’s smiling. I wish I could see his mouth better to know for sure. Maybe I’ll give him a haircut when I clean him up later.
Wren hands me the ball and stands there waiting. He really is trying so hard to do as I ask. It’s not his fault. I let him walk like a man from the basement to the shed.
“Good boy,” I tell him. “But is that how dogs play fetch? Running on two feet and picking the ball up with their hands?” He shakes his head. “I’ll let this first time slide since you’re still learning. Now be a good boy and fetch like a proper dog.” I throw the ball again.
Wren drops to a crouch, leans forward onto the palms of his hands, then pushes up on to the balls of his feet. When he performs at the Carnaval, he’s always been on his hands and knees, it’s easier on him, I’m sure, but this is a much more authentic performance. He’s awkward at first, and it looks like he’s trying to run while crawling. It’s adorably comedic, but I hide my laughter because I’m sure the defiant side of Wren will make an instantaneous return if I don’t.
The ball landed near the fence in a pile of mud. I watch Wren eye it before checking to see if I’m still looking. I wave at him in encouragement. He shakes his head and moves closer to the ball. He tries using his forehead to dislodge it but just ends up face planting a few times. He lets out a growl in exasperation and my chest swells with pride. He sounds just like a proper dog.
Wren opens his mouth wide and snarls when his teeth slide over the round wool surface. It’s like he’s becoming more animal than man before my eyes. Finally, he gets
a grip on the yellow piece of rubber and yanks it from the mud. He does his run crawl back to me and spits the ball out at my feet.
“Who’s a good boy?” I reach out to run my hand over his head and he snaps his teeth at me. I laugh. “Not a dog, huh? You seem to be very good at imitating one.”
“Fuck you.” Wren glares at me. My dick likes the way his eyes want to tear me apart, hardening and tenting my slacks in response to his fury.
“So, you don’t want to play fetch anymore? Ready to move on to something else? Wait, I have a better idea. Bath time! You were filthy before we came out, now you’re downright nasty. I’m gonna have to hose you down first.”
I walk over to the garden hose and turn the knob for the water. It’ll be cold, but it’ll serve him right for cursing at me. I point the nozzle at Wren and squeeze. I don’t let up until most of the mud has run off him with the water. He’s sputtering and cursing at me, but he hasn’t tried to run, which is a surprise. I guess he really wants whatever his end goal is.
I put the hose away and whistle, patting my leg for Wren to come to me. He starts to stand up straight. “Ah, ah, ah. Is that how dogs stand?”
He drops back down and crawls to me. He’s on his knees instead of his feet, but he’s on all fours so I’ll accept it.
Once he’s in front of me I squat down to his level and ruffle his wet hair. I nuzzle my cheek against his. The hair is wet, and the feeling isn’t pleasant, but I want to supply him with my affection for obeying me. “You’re such a good boy. Yes, you are. And good boys get rewarded.”
I stand up after giving his head one last pet. I walk up the steps and open the back door, waiting patiently as Wren crawls his way after me. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. For being such a good doggie, I’ll use the tub in the bathroom instead of taking you back to the basement. How’s that sound? And I might have a surprise for you when we’re finished.”
I head straight for the bathroom on this level, not bothering to see if Wren is following me. I know he will. He’s too curious and stubborn to back down from whatever he’s got planned.
Seven
Wren
As I follow Uri I try to take in my surroundings, but it’s hard to do from only a foot off the floor. At least it’s clean. I’ve crawled around on worse ground many times, and as unpleasant as it was, I hope I have the chance to do so again.
“Sit.” Uri points to a spot in front of the sink and I sit, leaning my back against the vanity. He runs water into the tub, making adjustments to the temperature until he deems it perfect.
“Come.” He taps his leg and I instinctually follow his command. I grit my teeth and force myself to continue forward when the realization hits me. He said he’d train me, and in just a short time I’ve already become conditioned to following his orders. I tell myself it’s only to further push me to my end goal to get the hell out of here and back to my family. Not because I want to obey him, because I don’t.
He shuts off the water and helps me into the tub. The water feels nice; the warmth seeps into my fur to my skin and relaxes my muscles. After sleeping in a cage for close to two weeks, then running—well, more like crawling—around outside, my body welcomes the chance to stretch out and unwind.
“Such a good boy. Just relax. I’ll be right back; I need to get something.” Uri’s voice is low and soothing, and I close my eyes at the sound of it.
“Oh, you poor baby. You’re exhausted, aren’t you? I should have been taking better care of you. Don’t worry, I’ll do better.”
I didn’t hear him return and I’m too tired to even open my eyes to see what he went to retrieve.
“That’s okay. Rest. I’ve got you.”
I hear the snick of a bottle being opened and closed. When he massages what I assume is shampoo through the hair on my head I moan contentedly. His fingers are gentle, pressing and moving over my skull in a way that rivals an approaching orgasm. Not that I’ve had many to compare it to, just the one, but it’s an incredible feeling of overwhelming heat and lust combined. I don’t think lust is a natural feeling for this situation, yet I don’t want to push it away. I’ve spent too much of my life without touch, without affection and, now that I have the desire for them, I want to soak up as much as I can.
“Dunk your head under the water, I want to rinse the shampoo from your head, then I’ll finish washing you.”
I let Uri guide my head underneath the water, blindly trusting him not to drown me. He stops with my nose still above the water so I can breathe and runs his hand through the strands on my head to rid it of suds.
Once he brings me back up out of the water, he quickly washes the rest of my body, massaging my muscles as thoroughly as he did my skull. He doesn’t miss an inch except for my private areas, and I wonder if he doesn’t want to touch me there. For some reason the thought upsets me.
“Stand up, please.”
I pout but do as he tells me. I don’t know why I’m so bothered by his avoidance of my dick. I should be thankful he doesn’t feel the need to molest me as well as hold me captive.
His hand on my ass jerks me out of the spiraling thoughts I’ve lost myself in. He rubs soapy suds over my ass cheeks and let’s his fingers drift along my crack. On what feels like the millionth time he ghosts his finger over that forbidden hole, I push into his touch.
“Hmm. Interesting.”
Uri doesn’t say anything else, just cups his hands into the water and pours it over me to rinse the soap away. After he’s done with that, he grips my hips and turns me so I’m facing him. I’m still in the tub and I’m standing while he sits on the edge. It puts his face level with my groin.
I watch him pour more soap into his hands and lather it between them. He reaches for my cock and I jerk back, almost losing my balance and falling back into the bath water.
“Relax, Wren. I won’t hurt you and I won’t do anything to you that you won’t like, I promise. Right now, I just want to make sure you’re clean.”
This time when he reaches for me, I don’t move. I don’t even breathe until he quietly tells me to. My stomach clenches as he holds my dick in his hand. I’m glad I’m not hard, one point to my genetics because he’ll never know how turned on I am.
Uri continues washing me, stroking me, unaware of the growing intensity he’s creating in my gut. My breath hitches in my throat when he washes my balls, his hand caressing until I feel ready to burst. I’m fighting to hold back the orgasm that is threatening to and win against my will. Then he runs a soap slick finger along my taint and over that sensitive bundle of nerves he teased earlier, and I lose control over my body. Uri is relentless, trailing his finger along that thin layer of skin, then up and over my hole again and again, pressing further inside on each pass until I am spent and barely able to hold myself up.
“I wondered if you would react to my touch. A bit disappointing that you weren’t hard for me, but I’ve done my homework. I’m aware of canine genetics and I’m prepared for any unexpected surprises you may or may not have.”
Uri lifts me out of the tub and grabs a towel, briskly rubbing it over my hairy body before wrapping it around me. Picking me up, he carries me into a bedroom across the hall.
He stands me beside the bed and removes the towel from my body, laying it over the bed. “Sit.”
Uri issues the command then heads back to the bathroom. I can see him through the open doors, rummaging through the vanity drawers looking for something. He must find whatever it is because when he gets back he has a black object in his hand.
“Ever tried trimming your hair down to a more manageable length?” He shows me the clippers.
I nod and pick at the longish strands on my leg. “Yeah, but it’s a lot of work to maintain. My hair grows too fast.”
“It was too hard to maintain. You have me to care for you now. Keeping your hair at a reasonable length is my responsibility. All dogs need to be properly groomed. It’s as equally important as keeping you healthy.”
Uri
reaches toward the nightstand by the bed. He opens a drawer and pulls out a brush.
“The lady at the pet store said this works well for detangling long-haired breeds. I thought it would be best for you.”
He doesn’t ask for permission, just starts running the brush through my hair. He takes extra care not to pull at any of the knots, instead gently working through them… it’s nice to be cared for. He sits beside me and hums to himself while he works to undo the bird’s nest my hair has become.
“What’s that song?”
“Somewhere Over the Rainbow. From the movie The Wizard of Oz.” Uri looks at me and I feel like he’s trying to see into my soul. “Have you seen that movie?”
I look away, embarrassed. “I don’t like to watch TV or movies.” Truth is, I didn’t join the others during their movie nights when I was younger. Not because no one wanted me there, but because I felt that I didn’t belong. I didn’t want my family to know I’d ever felt like an outsider with them, so even I stayed away as I grew older, telling them I just didn’t like movies or shows. But I don’t want Uri to know that. I don’t want him to have that glimpse into my insecurity.
“I think you’d like that one. Maybe we can watch it together.”
Uri says it as if it’s just as simple as that. As if he’s not my captor and I’m not his pet, his dog. As if we could be friends, or possibly more if we wanted. I’m not so naïve as to believe any of those things will ever be true, but the thought still makes my heart beat faster.
“I think I’d like that,” I tell him, letting some of my vulnerability be known. “Can I hear the song again?”
