The Chris Bellows' Collection Read online

  The Chris Bellows’ Collection

  Featuring: Collared & Leashed and Becoming Miss Ashley’s Pet, A D/s Divorce

  by Chris Bellows

  ISBN: 978-1-938897-73-3

  A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

  Copyright © 2014, All rights reserved

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

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  Pink Flamingo Publications

  www.pinkflamingo.com

  P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083

  USA

  Collared and Leashed

  Chapter One

  Willie

  “Right now, Willie, it’s kind of a birthday surprise; you know, a gag gift for the girl who has everything. So there will be others there...other women...a girl’s party. So, can you handle it? And if my friend likes the scene, how far are you willing to take it?”

  I listen. Fair questions. I had not fully considered the situation for which I am volunteering and therefore I have no immediate answers. But the ‘volunteering’ comes with an easy fifty dollars...for an afternoon impersonating a dog...if one indeed ‘impersonates’ animals.

  “You’ve indicated I will be wearing a mask, Miss. As long as it’s only you who knows who it is under the covering, I suppose I can handle it. I’m not sure what you mean, ‘how far are you willing to take it?’”

  The woman, Lenore, I suppose a girl really, smiles rather oddly. Tall, dark-skinned, with striking good looks and athletic, I imagine her to be on the university basketball team or volleyball team. But upon arriving on campus as a freshman weeks ago I attended games for both sports and had not seen her. She is probably older, come to think of it. And she must work, putting her age beyond that of college. Fifty dollars for a gag gift is an amount that is insignificant for a person fully employed, but certainly more than throw away money for a student.

  Thus my response to the advertisement, ‘young male needed for a party, to appear as a canine, a Saturday afternoon, $50'. The numerals were in bold, which tends to catch the eye of starving students. And on any given Saturday, the typical freshman is either recovering from a party or lounging about planning the next. Therefore my thinking was to grab the promised fifty and have a blowout Saturday night in celebration of an easy afternoon’s work.

  I envision the role to be similar to that of one of those team mascots seen in professional basketball and baseball, animatedly running about in some oversized furry covering. In place of spurring enthusiasm for the home team I am instead to be handing out party favors. Since I was a cheerleader in high school it initially seemed to be an easy task. I just assume I am not supposed to cheer...verbally.

  The woman replies after a discernible pause, seeming to likewise be envisioning my function.

  “Well, the girls can get frisky, Willie. Think of some of the bachelor parties you’ve attended, particularly where there is alcohol and entertainment.”

  She gives the word ‘entertainment’ a peculiar inflection, slowing to accent each syllable. When juxtaposed with the term ‘bachelor party’, her suggestive observation serves to transform my envisioned performance of rambunctious mascot to something more akin to a skimpily clad girl jumping out of a cake.

  She notices my reflective pause and uses it to fire personal questions; the answers to which one would normally avoid when more cognitively alert and prepared.

  “You’re young and nicely trim, not much body hair I assume. You wouldn’t mind removing it totally? It will grow back...”

  I am caught off guard with that. Can the dog covering be that hot to wear? It’s late October. It’s a yard party in Pennsylvania. How hot can it get? And why is she so concerned about my comfort? Yet, before I can formulate an acceptable negative reply there are others.

  “And though it’s not essential, I assume you’re nicely hung? No problem with being overly modest? Some guys can get a little shy.

  “Circumcised? Well scratch that one; it will be self evident.”

  I am rather taken aback as one can imagine. But it appears a decision has been made and the job is mine. The $50 keeps flashing before me.

  “I guess I can shave,” I meekly manage to respond. “But I don’t understand the relevance of your question about being ‘hung’,” I add with circumspection.

  My interlocutor arises. I remain seated in the low coach, while she towers over me. My eyes fix on her smooth and rounded thighs, left totally uncovered by shorts, which have enticingly gathered at the seam of her crotch. She smiles knowingly and coyly hesitates in order to afford me a lengthy examination. Then nimble fingers work to draw down the white cotton.

  “Let me show you your uniform, Willie. It will help explain.”

  She steps away to open a drawer in a nearby armoire. For the first time I notice her backside. Large, but amazingly proportioned, the tight shorts perfectly outline her buttocks. Athletic yet most curvaceously feminine, at one time Lenore was obviously involved in sports.

  “Chloe has a thing for Dalmatians,” she references the birthday girl as the drawer closes and she returns with paraphernalia in hand. “But she’s allergic to almost everything with fur. It’s left her with a lifetime of yearning. Therefore I thought a little doggie would be ideal for her birthday.”

  I no longer take personally references to my stature. At five-foot-four, all sensitivity dissipated in my mid-teens when I became a proficient swimmer and a respectable gymnast. Sports became an equalizer. Not too many six foot guys performing on the rings and parallel bars.

  My ‘uniform’ is presented...a rubber mask of large black circles on white with obligatory floppy ears and snout, a thick leather collar, a smooth but formidable chain of shining chrome and steel.

  That is all!

  “That’s it? Where’s the fur covering?”

  Lenore smiles while shaking her head and suppressing laughter.

  “One of the girls is a cosmetician. Has done some work in the Broadway theatre. The body paint will be most temporary and be easily removed. And it will further disguise your identity.”

  I am perplexed to the point of consternation and cannot find words.

  “Just get here thirty minutes early and come in the back door. There is a utility room off the kitchen where you can strip down and put on the mask. No one will see your face. Nancy will arrive, do the paint and collar you. Chloe and the guests will enter the back yard through the gate and at the appropriate moment when the gathering is assembled, I will slip into the utility room and lead you out.

  “You can crawl?”

  I nod, my mind still in confusion. Naked and painted to look like a dog, but in complete anonymity...and $50.

  “You’ll need to buy some things. Why not take twenty dollars now...for razors and shaving cream...if that’s the best way. If it costs more let me know. Remember, no hair. Nancy does great work and has been very specific about that.”

  Complete anonymity and an advance against minimal expenses!

  Poverty forces me to put aside all concerns and reservations. Razors cannot cost more than three dollars and I can find plenty of shaving lotion in the dorm. Besides when swimming competitively we often removed our body hair. So in addition to the $50, I have the money for a few trips to McDonald’s.

  Chapter Two

  Lenore

  Well, that was easy enough. The first kid who arrived is well built, short enough on stature to perfectly play the role, and hungry enough not to ask a lot of questions. And those soft, mousy eyes, so r
eflective of a personality seeking a controlling guidance. Plus as a freshman he has few acquaintances on campus.

  He skipped out with my twenty dollars like a little pack rat finding a shiny piece of metal. Thus I know he’ll be back for the big prize.

  Depending on his psychological makeup, my offering could be either the hardest or easiest fifty dollars he will ever earn ... and he will earn it.

  Chloe so much likes dogs.

  I return to the armoire and open the drawer...mask, collar and chain in hand. There in the bottom is the remainder of Willie’s ‘uniform’, the specially made arm coverings and boots. I suppose I should have taken the time to determine if such will properly fit him, but the woman assured that the stretchable latex results in ‘one size fits all’. And she so nicely painted the black rubber with swirling sections of white to replicate the Dalmatian look. The woman is such a treasure!

  Chapter Three

  Nancy

  At my age, young males are so easy to control. One just has to remain stern and matronly and every impressionable college age kid will respond to a woman in her forties, the approximate age of his mother.

  So I arrive at Lenore and Chloe’s house fully aware that the task of painting some kid to look like a Dalmatian will not be difficult. It’s getting him into those special gloves and boots that will provide the challenge.

  When Lenore showed me and demonstrated, I was both aghast and amused. The glove-like rubber fits over the folded arms and zippers closed to hold the arm bent at the elbow with forearm pressing against the biceps. At the elbow is an extension, a little hard rubber dog leg which the wearer can utilize to ‘walk’ on all fours. Likewise the boots fit over the folded leg and serve as extensions of the knee. The cleverness is that the long tubes of stretchable rubber can be zippered closed over the folded limbs, encasing such in latex which has been painted to resemble the hide of a Dalmatian. In place of hands and feet are attached canine legs and paws, the length of which is precisely measured to place the wearer on all fours, very much resembling a dog.

  And with hands and feet tucked away and held immobile, the fingers of the wearer cannot be used to free the zippers.

  The debaucherous woman who developed the curious garments is known to have quite the kennel in a secluded upstate New York location. And the neighbors are not burdened with excessive barking.

  I am told the prospective wearer, our little party puppy, is quite athletic. And the woman from New York assures that the knack for walking about on all fours, elbows and knees shuffling to push about the four attached paws, is quickly learned, though the encouragement of a dog quirt was suggested.

  The vision of our party entertainment nimbly crawling about on all fours amuses as I enter Lenore and Chloe’s house at the appointed hour. The boots and gloves are in the armoire where expected. I retrieve and move onward. With cosmetic case in hand, filled with black and white paint, a small bottle of pink, and a little chloroform, I find my way to the kitchen. I hear shuffling behind a door and know that my human canvass has arrived as instructed. Taking a deep breath to embolden myself and prepare my lungs to bluster commands, I abruptly thrust open the door.

  There stands our compliant puppy, shaven totally and but for a comical mask, naked and hairless as the day he was born. Though the male gender does not stimulate my interest, naked subservience does. I feel a twinge in my loins. This will be both difficult and enjoyable.

  “Hands behind your head! Spread your feet! Wider! “

  I use a stentorian voice and as expected, the diminutive naked male responds. I hide my evil smile.

  Initial compliance is important in take down scenes and with his awkward pose and visually cumbersome mask, I quickly establish my authority. And the faux snout is an ideal place to surreptitiously place a cotton pad doused with chloroform.

  It’s worked often enough. My prey will think it’s the smell of the body paint.

  Chapter Four

  Willie

  The woman is drill sergeant!

  I have mentally prepared myself for an afternoon of frolicking about, naked, leashed and pretending to be a dog. But I did not think the makeup artist would be so demanding.

  She opens her case to reveal bottles and brushes. A cotton swab of something is placed on the dog nose of the mask. She turns away and the room seems to fill with the scent of what I presume to be paint. It’s strong. The mask holds in the fumes. I begin to feel groggy.

  “Hold your arm steady, point the elbow. That’s a good boy.”

  Something is slipped over my folded right arm. I cannot see well through the mask. It tightens as she gruffly pulls it toward my shoulder. I hear a zip. My free arm receives the same treatment. It feels like I cannot move my hands and forearms but my brain lags and cognitive feedback comes slowly.

  “Yes, that’s good.”

  I am reminded of bath time when mother tended to me as a child. Standing naked, my youthful energy insisted that I squirm while my mother tried to dry me with a large towel.

  Whatever this Nancy placed on the mask is removed. The air freshens but I remain groggy. My knees begin to buckle. The stern but unctuously speaking woman guides me to the floor. Concerns over her presence and my nakedness seem to evanesce. I kneel. She pushes my head down and as I bend at the waist something touches the linoleum to stop my elbows before reaching the floor.

  How odd!

  I hear the woman cackle.

  “Now be a good boy and lift your left leg. Bend it at the knee so that your ankle presses against your hip. Yes, such a good puppy.”

  A similar shroud of rubber material is forced over my left knee, calve and thigh. I hear a zip. When she pushes it downward, something again seems to touch the linoleum before my knee reaches it. I am told to raise and likewise fold my right leg. For some reason this woman is to be obeyed. So stern...so exacting...and strangely, my brain cannot resist

  She finds the leather collar and encircles my neck. In my stupor I find I cannot move hands, forearms, calves or feet.

  “Stay still like a good doggie while I work, then perhaps you’ll get a nice biscuit.”

  I expected to hear an afternoon of canine references and mentally prepared myself. I am grateful I cannot be identified.

  Chapter Five

  Nancy

  Wow! What some kids will do for fifty dollars!

  Once the strange binders are zipped in place, this kid is all mine. The effect of the slight whiff of chloroform will dissipate as I paint. It was just enough relaxant to counteract any resistance, though I may not have needed it. This little guy, though quite muscular, is most docile.

  Using the pattern on the latex as a starting point, my skilled hand works with alacrity. He’s done quite a job shaving, and though male, young pink flesh can arouse even my philogynist preferences. I feel moisture between my thighs as my hand works to coat every square inch of skin. When finished with back, shoulders and buttocks I command and push and he compliantly rolls to one side to reveal his torso...the doggie’s underside.

  While working his chest and stomach, the effect of the chloroform wears and he slowly tumefies. As expected, a virile nineteen-year-old male, naked in the presence of a fully- clothed female, can be so effected and I suspect his healthy uncircumcised manhood will be quite the attraction at the party.

  Lenore slipped me a little pill that will assure great entertainment. Though not needed at his age, a tablet of Cialis will amuse the girls and frustrate our handless pup. Thus before his wits completely return, I tuck the little pill under his tongue and offer a large glass of water. He drinks as I hold the glass, his helplessness just beginning to dawn on a foggy mind.

  The black and white is done. Now for the coup de grace which will serve to so delight Chloe.

  A fresh brush and a bottle of effulgent pink body paint will highlight that which an authoritative woman so seeks to control. My puppy’s hairless scrotal sac will be exquisitely painted in the most revealing of colors. No girl will miss the
symbolical display of bound and leashed male virility.

  As I playfully dab, the caress of the soft wet brush causes further stiffness. I must congratulate Lenore on her choice. The lad is not only well hung but the chloroform has served to ameliorate all inhibitions. Willie seems most naturally subservient. All defensive male bravado has eroded to reveal a natural affinity toward subjugation.

  He will be quite the hit.

  Chapter Six

  Willie

  A hand pats my head with exaggerated affection.

  “Good boy,” the demanding voice suggests with soothing calmness.

  I hear the rattle of chain and recognize the sound from my meeting with Miss Lenore. It’s my leash, which the woman proceeds to clip to my collar. I cannot see well in the mask but feel tension on my neck as she evidently hooks the free end to piping near the utility room’s washing machine. She leaves a modicum of slack.

  “Lenore will be in shortly. I can already hear some of the guests arriving.”

  Her words no longer echo in a fuzzy mind. The grogginess is gone and my cognizance sharpens as I feel a soft hand reach under my stomach and gently squeeze my penis.

  For the first time I realize I am incredibly erect!

  “Very nice, Willie.”

  Her mocking tone of voice is irritating, and I cock my head up to see her open the utility room door and leave.

  How could I agree to this? As I attempt to move about, the full awareness of my bonds becomes evident. My fingers and hands are useless. I can unfold neither arms nor legs. And though I kneel on all fours with folded forearms placing my hands at my shoulders, the position is strangely comfortable. My elbows rest on something which holds my shoulders and chest at the level of my hips.

  I move to add slack to the leash. Right knee then left knee shuffle back...right elbow and left elbow follow. I am perched on something and look down to see hard rubber legs and paws propped under my bent elbows! The high collar inhibits head motion but I strain to lower my mask-covered chin toward my chest. I see similar legs and paws under my bent knees!