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MY LIFE AS A HUMAN PET

I was kneeling on the floor in front of Ms. Angela Bowen. I was naked except for a little silver collar that was locked in place around my neck. My head was bowed and I shivered slightly, unsure whether it was from fear, my nakedness, or both.
Ms. Angela sat regarding me with an evil, self-satisfied smirk on her face. She was wearing a long, satiny robe and her feet were encased in a pair of delicate, richly embroidered slippers. She slid one foot out of its slipper and, crossing her legs, began stroking my ear with her toe. Her toes were painted red and I could smell the powder that I had recently applied shortly after her bath. I remained motionless with my head bowed.
Ms. Angela, who had been promoted ahead of me, had been my supervisor at work. Because I considered her to be an arrogant bitch, I had complained to upper management and put in for a transfer. BIG MISTAKE!
'So, you were trying to undercut me at work and were planning to leave against my expressed wishes. What were you thinking? I know I told you I was a witch. Didn't you believe me?'
'I'm so sorry,' I whimpered. 'Please forgive me.'
She slapped the side of my head with her foot. 'Please forgive me, your highness.'
'Please forgive me, your highness,' I said.
'That's better,' she sneered. She leaned forward and fastened a red satin leash to my collar. 'I'm going to be making some changes in your life, Leon. As you know, I arranged for an accident that made it look like you were killed. Your 'funeral' was held yesterday; I was quite touched by the sorrow of your friends and family. They'll miss you very much; but they'll get over it. In the meantime, I now own you. I've shrunk you down to 18 inches in height, which will allow me to control you more easily. I'm going to keep you as my little prisoner and teach you to respect me the way I deserve. I will lead you around on a leash and will keep you locked in a cage at night. In order to earn my forgiveness, you will have to forget about your past life and begin focusing on what I want and what I may find pleasing. If you obey me and please me, your life will be bearable. If you resist me in any way, I will punish you severely.'
My training with the red satin ribbon and ring around my neck lasted several weeks. Ms. Angela kept me tightly under her direct control, constantly pulling or releasing the ribbon to create a sort of natural instinct in me to know exactly at what distance from her she wanted me to be. The ribbon became my constant companion, even in sleeping. Before going into my cage at night, I had to roll it up and keep it next to me until ordered to come out again. I also got used to washing myself with it and performed many other tasks with the ring around my neck. When ordered out of my cage, I had to kiss Ms. Angela's feet and then hand her the end of the ribbon.

During those weeks I had no alternative but to follow Ms. Angela everywhere in the house. When stopping I would usually receive a command to kneel or lie flat on my belly. If not, I was to stand quietly with my head bent and eyes fixed to my owner's feet.

She expected me to obey her without question, otherwise, I was punished. Once, for instance, I took too long to do what she had told me. She simply took the ribbon and tied her end of it to a handle on her vanity table, tight enough for me to stand on the tip of my toes but not to rest on my whole foot. I couldn’t let go either, since the ring would start throttling me. In the meantime she continued casually walking around the house, hardly paying any attention to me and my little struggle against my impossible position. After a few hours, in which the pain in my legs grew almost unbearable, Ms. Angela came up to me and said,
'I hope you've had a chance to reflect on what I expect from you. You need to learn to obey me without question. You no longer have the rights and privileges of other human beings; I've taken all that away from you. You are to consider yourself as nothing more than my animal, my property. Everything about you belongs to me, now. Is that clear, slave?'
'Yes, Your Highness', I replied through my stiff throat. 'I’m so sorry to have been slow in obeying you. Your punishment of me has reminded me that you hold all the power in our relationship and I will not forget it. Please forgive me, Exalted One.'
And with this, she undid the knot and I fell down to the floor, at her feet.

The number of chores she gave me to do also increased drastically. You may remember the first one, on my first night out of the cage, when she told me to hand her the TV remote control. Well, anything possible, anything within my reach, at my height, became part of my obligations. For instance, I started to carry her coffee from the kitchen to the living room. It wasn’t as heavy as it was uncomfortable, and I had to be very careful, for not only was it quite hot, but spilling was absolutely forbidden.

Ms. Angela did not allow me to wear any clothing other than my collar. She said it was to remind me that I was now her animal, her pet. I was hers, for her to do with me whatever she wanted.
Finally, one night, before saying good night at my cage door, Ms. Angela sat on her bed and said,
'At my feet, slave'. I prostrated myself before her. 'I have decided to permanently mark you as my property. Tomorrow, I shall have my initials branded onto your forehead. I shall also have the words 'Property of Ms. Angela Bowen' tattooed onto your back. Now kiss my feet and get into your cage', she ordered.

The day after, I waited impatiently for Ms. Angela’s return from work as I recovered from my branding and tattooing. Once she walked into the room she ordered me out of the cage. As usual, I prostrated myself before her and began to kiss her feet. 'Tell me who you are, slave,' she asked, teasingly.
'I am the personal property of Ms. Angela Bowen,' I said as I continued to kiss her feet, reverently.
'And don't forget it,' she said as she turned and walked to her mirror. I crawled after her, kissing the floor wherever she stepped. Seeing me in the mirror, she chuckled, 'Oh, I like that! I think our new relationship is such that having you kiss the ground I walk on is quite appropriate,' she said, admiring herself in the mirror. 'Today, you will be allowed out of your cage without the ribbon around your neck. However, you are to stay close to me. In fact, I think I'll insist that you crawl behind me, kissing the ground. Would you like that, slave?'
'I like only what pleases my owner,' I said, meekly.
She chuckled as she continued to regard herself in the mirror, 'You'll find that your new life with me is much more pleasant if you maintain that attitude.' She then turned and walked out of the room. I followed her closely, kissing wherever she stepped. She continued to the living room, kicked off her slippers and sat on the sofa. She curled one leg under her and draped the other over the edge of the sofa. Her feet were very nice and, thanks to me, her nails were buffed and polished. She began thumbing through a magazine as she said casually, 'You may give me a foot massage.' I gently caressed her foot with both my hands and started working my way from her toes to her heel. My owner has always been an extremely clean person and, although I could smell the day’s sweat, it was by no means unbearable.
'That’s good, I like this feeling', Ms. Angela said as I massaged on. 'I'm going to train you to adore me and worship me. I think having you kiss and massage my feet is a good way to remind you that you are my property. Now lie down on your back so I may place my foot on you.' She placed her foot on my body with her slender toes lying over my upturned face. 'You must learn to never deny me anything nor offer any resistance to my wishes. While I have no obligations to you whatsoever, you, on the other hand, owe me everything. I've taken away all of your possessions, all of your rights, and I intend to keep you for the rest of your life as my personal slave. Is that understood?'
I managed to give out a 'Yes, Your Highness.'
'Now massage my foot and gently kiss the undersides of my toes.' I obeyed.
I continued to massage until I was told to stop.
'Now put my slippers back on my feet', she ordered. Her slippers were satin, open-toed slip-ons that revealed her beautiful toes. She crossed her legs and sent me to bring her the newspaper. It was lying on the desk and I reached it climbing on a chair. When I gave it to her she ordered me to lie on my belly at her feet with my lips touching the edge of her slipper.
I could tell she was enjoying this whole power trip thing. She liked being able to have me perform any act she desired, no mater how humiliating it might be for me. After a quarter of an hour or so she put the paper down and stood up.
'Come with me', she said. As I followed her to her bedroom, I was struck by how regal she looked. She walked proudly, with her head held high. Her long, satin gown swayed elegantly as she moved. A few paces behind her, naked and collared, I followed with my head bowed, my arms limp at my sides. Ms. Angela sat on a stool in front of her vanity. She looked in the mirror and began brushing her hair. Without even looking at me, she said, casually, 'I think I'm finished with you for now. Say goodnight to me and go lock yourself in your cage.' As usual, I kissed her feet good night and did as I was told.
As I related in my first chapter, I have been captured by a witch and shrunken to about eighteen inches 'tall.' She took away all of my possessions, my investment accounts, and all of my freedoms. She keeps me as her naked prisoner, forcing me to cater to her every whim, no matter how humiliating.
For the past couple of hours, I have been alone in her closet dusting and polishing her vast collection of shoes and slippers. I’m naked except for a compliance collar fastened tightly around my neck. The compliance collar is a hideous device that allows my Mistress to remotely administer a variety of electric shocks to the back of my neck. The shocks range from a mild tingle she uses to summon me to a paralyzing jolt that will literally incapacitate me. Believe me, I quickly learned why it’s called a compliance collar. Ever since the device was locked around my neck, I obey my Mistress without question.
I just finished cleaning a pair of my owner’s tennis shoes and have now moved to a pair of light blue pumps. As I do with each pair, I kneel and kiss the toe of each shoe. I also place a kiss on the inside sole of each, smelling the familiar scent of my Mistress’s feet.
You probably wonder why I abase myself so much when she’s not even around. Well, the answer is that she IS around. She has hidden cameras installed everywhere. I never know if she’s watching me or will view whatever I’m doing at a later time. Therefore, I always conduct myself as if she were standing right over me.
Suddenly, I feel a tingle on the back of my neck. My Owner is summoning me! I rush out of her closet and begin frantically searching for her. I know that unless I am prostrate at her feet within ten seconds of the first tingle I will receive a second jolt that will be extremely painful. I’m frantic, however, because I have no idea where she is. She could be anywhere in or around the house.
Fortunately, I know my way around the house pretty well. After all, it used to belong to me. That is, until Ms. Angela decided to take everything away from me.
I ran through each of the upstairs room and did not see her. I flew down the steps as fast as a little guy like me could. As I rounded the corner to go into the front sitting room, I caught a glimpse her auburn hair through the front window. She was sitting on the front porch!
I ran to the front door and threw myself against the flap of a built-in pet door. (Ironically, I had installed the pet door when I was still of regular height and owned the house. I had put it in for a cat and never dreamed that I would one day be its primary user.) I tumbled out onto the porch and rushed toward my Mistress. When I was about three feet from her, I threw myself to the floor and crawled the rest of the way on my belly until my lips touched the edge of her slipper. I made it, I thought. Thank God, I made it within the ten seconds.
ZAP! The jolt hit me unexpectedly. Why it happened I don’t know. Either she was slow in taking her finger off of the remote button, or, just as likely, she felt like zapping me. Either way, I was in no position to complain. I remained motionless with my lips still pressed to her slipper.
'Take a moment to catch your breath, little toad,' she said. I should mention that when my Mistress enslaved me, she also took away my name. She now refers to me as little toad, dinky dink, stupid slave, or any other demeaning label she thinks of.
'I want you to prepare my bath,' she soon said. The tone of her voice was arrogant and smug, like a spoiled little rich girl used to having everything her way. And, of course, having her way with me, a shrunken, naked slave locked into one of her compliance collars, was now the natural order of things.
'Scent the bath with lavender oils and be sure that everything is just the way I like it to be.' She snapped her fingers, dismissing me.
I leapt to my feet and rushed off to do her bidding. However, I had not even made it back to the pet door when I felt another ZAP. This one caused me to lose my balance and sent me tumbling to the floor. Dazed, I scrambled to my knees and turned to face the Mistress, my head bowed.
'Whenever I dismiss a slave, I expect to feel my feet being kissed and to hear a meek little ‘Yes, Mistress.’
'I’m so sorry, Your Highness. Please forgive me,' I pleaded.
'Now, grovel your way back over here and we‘ll try it again,' she ordered.
I crawled on my belly and kissed the floor back over to her feet. Again, I pressed my lips to the edge of her slipper.
SNAP, went her fingers. Holding her nose in the air like some impetuous princess, she said, 'You are dismissed, slave,'
I covered her feet with kisses and said, 'Yes, Mistress.'

Upstairs, I began preparations for my Owner’s bath. I drew the water at just the right temperature, put in the scented oils, and laid out fresh linens. I turned on her favorite music, soft jazz, and set a glass of wine on the back edge of the bathtub. I laid a small whip next to the wine glass and knelt next to it. If everything were not perfect, the Mistress would want to whip me, so I knelt next to the whip, placed my hands behind my head and leaned back as far as I could. This position would allow her to snap the whip across the underside of my belly if she chose to do so. I already have several welts there from previous 'lessons' so I’m hoping that everything is to her liking.
After about ten minutes or so, she entered the bathroom. She let her robe fall to the floor and pulled the pins out of her luscious hair. She looked magnificent and I could feel my penis beginning to throb.
She stepped into the bathtub and slowly lowered herself into the warm bubbles I had prepared. 'Mmmm, good boy!' she purred. 'This feels so good. I think you may put away the whip.'
After I’d put the whip back on her nightstand, I returned to the bathroom and knelt next to the tub, this time with my head bowed and my arms limp at my side.
'Let’s see, what do I want from you now,' she said to herself, out loud. 'I know, go fetch my high-heeled mules, the black ones, and set them next to my dressing table. You can wait for me there.'
I went to her closet and picked out the shoes she wanted. When I got to the dressing table I began to lick both shoes all over. Although I had just done that earlier this morning, I knew that my Mistress liked her shoes to be freshly licked.
I was still licking the shoes when she entered the room. She had already dried her hair and put on a long white summer dress. As she slid her feet into the shoes, I lay prostrate with my lips touching them. Her feet were very attractive and my close-up view of her toes as they disappeared into the shoes was somewhat arousing.
Ms Angela strode over to the mirror and admired herself. 'Hmm, I don’t think I like these shoes,' she said. 'Get me the lavender ones instead,' she ordered as she kicked off the black ones.
As quickly as possible, I returned with the lavender mules, holding one in each arm. I was struggling somewhat as I ran because I was trying to lick them at the same time.
Seeing my struggles, my Mistress chuckled, 'O, that’s alright, little shoe boy. You can finish licking them after I’ve put them on.'
Gratefully, I set the shoes at her feet and kissed them while she put them on. I then followed her, on my knees, of course, over to the dressing table. As she sat applying her make-up, I was on the floor under the table licking her shoes.
After about fifteen or twenty minutes, she stood and began walking out of the room. 'Go get your leash and wait for me by the front door.'
Now, using a leash on me is not necessary. She can set the remote for my compliance collar to act as a virtual leash of whatever length she chooses. Believe me, whenever that virtual leash option is set, I’m very careful to stay well within her predefined distance. The only reason I can think of for her to use a real leash is her ego. She likes the visual impact of having a shrunken slave at the end of a leash. It’s pretty hard for me to forget that she thinks of me as an animal when I’m naked and at the end of a leash. Also, it probably means that we’re going out around other people and she wants to flaunt her dominion over me.
Anyway, after getting the leash and attaching it to my collar, I kneel next to the front door and await my Owner.

I had been kneeling at the front door of my Mistress’s house (actually, if you recall, it had been my house until she took it away from me), waiting for her to come take the end of my leash. As I’d been trained, I always waited for my Mistress with my head bowed and my hands folded as if praying. She likes seeing me wait for her like a devoted little supplicant.
After about twenty minutes, she comes by and grabs the end of my leash and proceeds out the door. 'Come along, slave boy,' she says. I crawl after her down the porch to a waiting taxi.
'Dogs are $2.00 extra,' says the taxi driver.
'Fine,' my Mistress says.
Something I realized a long time ago is that witches, like my Mistress, are able to cast spells around their shrunken captives such that normal people view them as actual dogs. So, to anyone who is not a member of my Mistress’s coven, I appear as a little yappy mutt at the end of a leash.
Even if I jump up and down and say, 'Please help me, this woman has enslaved me and is keeping me as her prisoner,' people who are not part of my Mistress’s group will hear nothing except, 'Yapp, yapp, yapp, yapp. And the only thing they’ll see is a shivering little K9 at the end of leash.
I’m telling you this because if you’ve ever seen an elegant lady leading a yappy little dog around on a leash, please understand that the dog may, in fact, be a naked slave who’s pleading for help.
Anyway, I crawled into the back seat with my Mistress. She, of course, buckles in to ensure her safety. I, on the other hand, must kneel on the floor, unprotected.
In fact, my job, when my Mistress is riding in a taxi, is to kneel on the floor and smell her feet. I have to begin at the toe of her shoe, placing my nose as close to her foot as possible without actually touching it and move up along the outside edge of her foot to her heel.
Once I get to her heel, I have to sniff my way up over the top of her foot, along the ankle, down to the tops of her toes and back up along the inside of her arch. Her rule is that I am not allowed to actually touch her, however, she expects to feel my breath going in and out as I move up and down her foot.
One challenge is that my Mistress likes to dangle her shoe at the end of her foot. When she does this, I will insert my head in between her foot and the dangling shoe so I can sniff the sole. Usually, this works out well except when she snaps her shoe back up against her foot. If I’m not quick, I often get my head slapped in between her shoe and foot.
After about thirty minutes, the cab comes to a halt. My Mistress pays the driver and leads me out toward a large, stone house.
We’re greeted at the front entrance by my Mistress’s older sister.
'Oh, I’m so glad to see you,' her sister says.
Her name is Willamena. She’s about 50 or so, however, she’s probably one of the most noble-looking ladies I’ve ever seen. Her silvery hair is cut in the pageboy style, which accentuates her long, elegant neck. She’s wearing a long, Grecian-style robe that’s white with a gold trim. Her feet are bare except for an anklet and several toe rings.
As the two women exchange greeting, I focus in on Willamena’s anklet. At first, I thought it was just a common anklet, with charms dangling from it. However, as I looked closer, I noticed that the charms were MOVING. This woman is wearing an anklet comprised of LIVING HUMAN BEINGS.
The strap that encircles her ankle is made of a coarse woven material and, suspended from it are about six tiny men. Each is no more that one or two inches in height and their wrists are shackled to the ankle strap. They’re naked and dangling like little charms on a bracelet.
As she walks, the men swing and slap against her foot. Seeing this helps confirm my growing understanding that these women are all powerful. Any race of beings that can reduce other living creatures to the status of jewelry is a race that must not be defied.
I also notice that Willamena has a little slave just like me, about eighteen inches tall. He appears to be roughly 19 or 20 years old and is obviously in some sort of training status. He’s naked and his hands are shackled behind his back. Of course, he’s wearing a compliance collar, however, he also has a ring inserted through the septum of his nose. Attached to the ring is a light chain that extends to Willamena’s unique anklet. The chain is about two feet long and requires that this little creature constantly run or stop according to his mistress’s movements. I’m struck by the fact that this young, obviously virile young man has had his life so completely altered by a woman old enough to be his mother.
Willamena leads us into the parlor where she and Ms Angela sit on comfortable chairs and begin to chat.
My Mistress sits and points to her heel. I kneel under the chair behind her feet and position my nose as close as possible to the exposed heel of her left foot. The lavender mules expose much of her foot and allow me to see and smell her feet easily.
Willamena, on the other hand, snaps her finger and says, 'Foot mat.' She lifts her feet slightly as her tethered little captive lies down on his back and slides in under them. She then sets one foot squarely across his chest and the other across his head. His face is positioned such that he’s able to breath air in from under her foot. In fact, I notice that Willamena soon adjusts her foot so that he’s now breathing from in between her toes. She has that smug. self-satisfied look on her face that tells me she likes using this boy in this manner.
He remains motionless and offers no resistance whatsoever. How could he? He’s naked, he’s wearing a compliance collar, he’s tethered by his nose to his Mistress’s anklet, and he’s being used as a footstool. Oh, yes, and he’s in handcuffs. I don’t know about you, but I’d say that this is an example of slavery at its most extreme.
'Oh, how interesting. You’re using your little dink as a foot mat,' my Mistress says.
'Well, of course. Why should my feet be on the cold floor when I have a nice warm slave boy to use,' Willamena chuckles, as she repositions her feet for maximum comfort.
'Little toad,' my Mistress says, 'I want to put my feet on you. Take my shoes off and lie down.'
I remove her shoes, going through the whole ritual of kissing the outside and inside of each, bowing, thanking her for the privilege and, finally, lying on my back at the spot that would be most comfortable for her.
Her left foot completely covers my chest, which causes me to have to breath heavily. She places her other foot right on the side of my head so that my face is pointed forward. From this position, I’m still able to see and hear what is going on between my Mistress and her sister.
I can sense that Ms Angela enjoys using me as her footstool. I think she gets off on things that demonstrate the one-sided nature of our relationship. Using me as a foot mat, forcing me to breath only air from around her foot is a definite power trip for her. I have a feeling that my resume is going to have a new entry: Personal Footstool for Lady Angela.
My Mistress and Willamena continue chatting for quite some time. They sit like goddesses resting their feet on their own personal slave boys, confident in the fact that their domination of us is without boundaries.
'Would you care for some lunch, my dear,' Ms Willamena asks?
'That would be nice, thank you,' Ms Angela replies.
CLAP…CLAP Ms Willamena claps her hands together twice.
I hear little footsteps rushing in from the kitchen.
(to be continued)