Little One Ch. 02

Thanks so much for all the feedback! I'll address one quick thing before I go into the next chapter, the medical issue. I know it seems contradictory to say the girl needs medical attention and then to put her in a crate for five hours. I thought shut it plenty before I wrote it, obviously seeing the contradiction, but decided that riding a hospital asking questions would be a legitimate issue and would cause even more of a discrepancy. That said, please enjoy the next chapter, this one being a lot less brutal.

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The little girl was quiet most of the way home. I could occasionally hear her drink from her water bottle but other than that she must have slept, despite her pain, because when we arrived at my home- our home now- she was sleeping lightly.

"Wake up, little puppy, we're home and I can get to work on fixing you up." I said gently. Her eyes fluttered open, somewhat startled, but then glazed back over to her rather unfocused expression.

I picked up the cage slowly, trying not to jostle her much. I didn't want to move her around and out just yet, not until I could lay her down in a proper place. I opened the door to the moderately sized cabin in the woods. I lived apart from many people and the nearest town was about twenty miles to the south. I enjoyed my seclusion, as I found most people to be rather dense and not worth interacting with. Besides, when I worked, if it so pleased me, I needed the silence that this place allowed for. I was a writer, a fairly good one I suppose, as it allowed me to live an upper middle class life without any real worry. My writing income paired with some small, but wise investing gave me a comfortable life. Of course, I must mention, had my late godfather not left me his life's earnings, owning my little one would not be possible.

As I unlocked my door and went inside, the sound of paws padded through the hallway to greet me. My ever so loyal border collie, Scout, met me with a happy smile. As I didn't venture from home too often, I'm sure he missed me. He sniffed the cage and cocked his head when he noticed it was a girl. He sagged his tail and licked the bars, obviously wanting to meet her. I pat his head and walked straight to the stairs and up to my bedroom will Scout bringing up the rear.

I set the crate beside the bed and unhinged the door. "Alright, puppy, let's get you fixed up now shall we?" I gently lifted her up and set her on my silky sheets. She sucked in some air but showed no other signs of emotion. Again, I was met with the sight of dried blood and bruises. My anger rose a little bit but I knew it wouldn't help her so I began to lightly feel her ribcage. I couldn't be sure by just looking, but by the shallow way she was breathing, she probably had a broken rib. Her left side seemed to be fine, which was a relief, being that it is of course the side where her lung resides. But when I touched the bottom rib of her right side, she shook and whimpered in pain. After making that discovery, I knew she had to be treated very gingerly for the next two months or so.

The next order of business was of course the shoulder. I had been a field medic in the military for four years after I graduated high school, thus I felt confident I could put her shoulder back into place correctly.

Scout jumped up on the bed gracefully and wrapped himself around the girl while tenderly licking a few cuts. Her small hand latched onto a patch of his silky hair.

"Alright, little one, this is going to hurt, but only for a second. I don't have any fast acting numbing meds so bear with me. I'm just gonna put you back in order, and then you can have some pain killers." I placed my hands on her shoulder and she shut her eyes tightly. I put one hand above her shoulder and on her collarbone, to guide it, and used my other to swiftly push the joint back into place. She squeaked and her grip on Scout's a fur tightened visibly. But she was tough, she didn't scream at all, which truly surprised me. The pain of putting a shoulder back into place is almost worse than pushing it out.

But it was finished, she was going to be sore, but she'd heal in time. Now I could move on to cleaning up all the cuts. Scout stayed with her while I went to the closet to grab my first aid kit. It had plenty of bandages, disinfectants and ointments perfect for cleaning her up. "Some of this might stings little," I warned, "but it will help you heal up faster." I started from her legs and moved up, taking time to clean each laceration. When I was done, I moved her to her stomach, trying to do so as slowly as possible to not cause issues for the rib. Her backside was far worse, and took much more time, but when I finished, she looked far better, minus the bruising, but only time would heal those.

Next order was to give her a bath. She obviously needed a gentle but thorough bathing and her long, dark hair needed untangled. I went to my bathroom, which was brightly lit and painted soft blue that complimented the white marble well, and drew a nice, warm bath full of lavender smelling bubbles. I went back and collected the girl from the bed. She was tentative to let go of Scout, but I told her that she would enjoy a hot bath.

I had also taken a few towels and put them on the tub floor, as I didn't think it would be wise to have her sitting on such a hard surface. She sighed when she was fully submerged. I first began by slowly combing her hair out, one strand at a time. There were a few bundles of tangles that I couldn't get out, so I opted to just cut them. They were small enough that it made no difference whether they started or left.

Soon, her hair was easy to comb through and ready to be shampooed. I spent lots of time massaging her scalp, which she seemed to enjoy greatly. She hummed slightly and the muscles in her face loosened visibly.

Her growling stomach reminded me to move on, so I rinsed her hair, washed her body, and conditioned her hair quickly. When she was all dried off and squeaky clean, I put bandages on the largest of the cuts and rubbed healing lotion all over her. I also wrapped her torso tightly with tough gauze to prevent more damage to her ribs. Luckily, it was definitely only a cracked rib and not entirely broken. I couldn't be sure that no pieces had chipped off, but I could risk taking her to the hospital for x-rays until it was absolutely necessary. I gave her one of my sweatshirts and sweatpants to dress in. I didn't have any clothes for her before hand, as I was waiting till I knew the measurements of the girl I bought to actually have clothes made. And furthermore, my clothes were soft and big and would keep her happily warm. She was dwarfed in the outfit, of course. Myself being 6'3" was much larger than her tiny frame.

I decided to let her lay in bed, protected by Scout, while I made dinner. I went to my kitchen and heated up some chicken noodle soup. Less than twenty minutes later, I brought a steaming bowl of soup, some bread and a sippy cup of apple juice mixed with crushed up Tylenol. She lay cradled in my arms while I fed her. She eagerly ate and drank.

"How long ago was the last time you ate, little one?" I asked. No response. "Why don't you speak? I promise I will not punish you." But she made no effort to speak, instead she made a grabby motion for the pink sippy cup. Obliging her, I started to think of things to call her. Obviously, I couldn't keep calling her little one and I don't know her real name. And I didn't want to use it anyway, it would be too much of a reminder of her old life.

I knew for a fact that one she was healed, I would train her to be my puppy girl, so a canine name was in order. "What should we call you?" I mused out loud. "Belle? No. That's more of a cat name. Lacy? Princess? Casey?" She idly drank the rest of her juice, not reacting to anything I continued to list off. "How about Cleo?" Suddenly her eyes perked up. "Do you like that, little one? Would you like to be named Cleo?" I scratched behind her ear. "That isn't your old name is it?" She she shook her head. "Alright. Then Cleo it is." I smiled. Cleo. It was the perfect name for a little pup, all cute and cuddly. I suppose she wasn't too affectionate yet, but I was sure in time she would come around.

After helping her use the toilet, I placed her under the covers and I laid down next to her. Scout laid at the foot of the bed. Soon, we were all fast asleep.

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The next two months passed by quietly, without much variation from day to day. We would wake up in the morning whenever we pleased, and I changed her bandages and wrappings if needed. All of her cuts were gone as were the bruises, minus one particularly deep one, but even that was a pale discoloration. Her rib healed as well, and her breathing was much better. The shoulder was perfect as well, as I had been helping her with some daily exercise to strengthen it. She gained back all the weight she lost, and I was currently trying to make her gain more, as I preferred my girls to be on the chubby side. It was just more fun to play with.

Scout and Cleo became fast friends. He was always by her side, watching over her. When I finally decided she could go about on her own, without me carrying her, she took to exploring the cabin. On one condition of course: she had to crawl. Despite the fact that training had not officially started, she was still a pet, and that needed to be enforced. She didn't object much, but I did catch her standing a few times. A quick, light spank on her plucky ass was all she needed to remind her to stay on her knees while she ventured around the home.

The upstairs was simply the master bedroom and a guest room, so she grew bored of that level quickly. The kitchen, living room, and dining room were all one in the same downstairs. The color scheme was warm toned with lots of red and brown. There was a large, brick fireplace that was flanked by two massive, ceiling to floor windows that looked out, unhindered, at the vast forest and mountains where my home was placed.

A short hallway branched off and held three doors, two of which were unlocked. The farthest door in the hall was not a room I wanted Cleo to see until she was ready for training. But the other two were perfectly fine. One was my office. Whenever I worked, I would have her lay in a wicker basket with a dog bed in it at my feet. She didn't seem to mind, and on those days, she mostly napped or would select a book from my library to keep occupied. Right now I believe she was wrapped up in the Chronicles of Narnia. I would idly scratch her head while I typed away.

On other days, we'd spend our time in my art studio. I quite enjoyed painting and drawing. I also had a beast of a Steinway & Sons. Grand piano. I had been playing side the age of five and my love for the instrument never died. I would play spirited sonatas and tinkering lullabies and graceful waltzes for my puppy while she lay in her puffy dog bed.

I gave her a sketch pad of her own to keep her busy if she wanted, but she never drew in it.

Life was quiet, life was good. I was pleased to have Cleo for a companion.

But she had yet to utter a single word.

I mean, she made some noise, hummed a little or whimpered to get my attention, but never did a single word pass her pretty lips.

Her eyes as well, seemed to get lost, and never truly focus on myself or anything else for that matter, except for when she was reading.

It was the day of her two months being with new that I grew worried. What if that sadistic place had truly gotten to her core and doused the flame? She had offered me no fight whatsoever on anything I said or did. She ate whenever and whatever I fed her, minus cheese I suppose, which she had a disgust for. She didn't mind being naked most of the time. She followed my instructions to exercise her shoulder and even walked on the treadmill a few times a week. She let me give her baths, she slept when it was time, she let me use her body as a canvas for one of my paintings. I depicted a lovely landscape from her torso to her feet and she had her lay sensually while I photographed my work.

She was perfectly pliable.

Nothing like the auction described. And again, I truly feared that she wasn't going to speak, that she was broken.

But dear thank God I was wrong.

Today was September first, and it rained all day. Cleo seemed to perk up on rainy days, she loved to sit by the big windows, all snuggled up in blankets, just watching the torrent come down. She did just that today, as expected, much to my amusement. She had a game she liked to play. She would put her two hands on the window, and trace the droplets as they came down. It looked as though she thought them to be racing, and this reminded me of my childhood, as I played a similar game on long car rides.

When it was lunch, I asked what she wanted, not really expecting a response but she trotted over to the kitchen on all fours and scratched at the cabinet that she knew held the cookies. I laughed and she looked up at me with big brown eyes. She almost seemed to be begging.

"Cleo, you silly puppy, you can't have cookies for lunch. You need REAL food."

She rolled her eyes at me. This caught me off guard, she had never done that before, and it was truly amusing. I decided to make some wheel shaped pasta.

Maybe after a month is when I started having her eat from a dog dish on the floor. She was surprised, I think, as I had been hand feeding her till that point. But again, she didn't show much emotion ate what I gave her.

She happily ate her pasta with red meat sauce. When she was done, she nosed her purple dish, inscribed with her name and a cute bow, toward my feet.

"Oh, you are a hungry puppy, aren't you, little one?" I teased. She blushed a little and looked down at the floor. Of course I gave her more.

After three helpings of noodles and a few Oreos, we settled in my art studio. I was feeling the muse. Again, I gave her the blank sketch book and some markers.

After a few hours, I felt satisfied with my work and turned to see if Cleo's change in character extended to her art.

To my pleasure, it had!

She had drawn a purple dragon with its wings raised, as if ready to take flight. It was very pretty and I praised her greatly. She enjoyed belly rubs as much as Scout did and it was fun to watch her roll over and offer me her tummy. Her breasts were hard not to notice as well, being as perky as they were and all. But her nakedness seemed all natural to her now, and she did not mind.

The rest of the day went by quickly, and I was very happy with the sudden show of emotions, even if she didn't directly speak. When it was dark, the rain was still pouring as though Mother Nature thought the world had never seen it. In bed, Cleo curled up next to me and I held her as I had each night so far. Sleep came quickly.

I woke up rather cold, and in a dreamlike state I reached to pull my little puppy closer. But my hand only met cold sheets. I bolted up. Neither Scout nor Cleo were in the room, I jumped up from bed, scared she was trying to run away. But if Scout was with her, she was probably close, he wouldn't let her leave. I checked all the rooms I had, even the locked one, just to be thorough.

My eyes went to the door to the backyard. She wouldn't? Not in this weather?

Oh no, the door was unlocked.

I threw it open and ran into the rain.

"Cleo?! Scout?" I called out. A loud bark came from the edge of the clearing at the end of the yard. I ran through the rain and stumbled on my pair of pets. Scout was tightly wrapped around shivering, little, naked Cleo. She looked up at me and even in the dark I could see she was crying, something she had not done once since I first laid eyes on her.

I immediately scooped her into my arms and brought her back into the house. I wrapped her in warm towels and set her down before the fireplace while I made a roaring fire to warm her up. I was worried she would catch a fever if she had been out too long. Once everything was set up, and Scout was curled up next to the fire, I cradled her in my arms.

"Why did you do that, Cleo?" I looked at her with concern.

She shivered.

"I am so scared."

Her voice was small and childlike, perfect for her.

I was taken aback. She spoke. For the first time. And my gosh did she have the cutest voice. But her words were sad.

"Why, little pup? How have I scared you?" I asked.

She looked down and just slumped into me, going completely limp. "I'm scared because I was taken from my home and forced into a cage and then those men treated me so cruelly and th-the one man hated me so much and he beat me an-and he tortured me and then y-you bought me and kinda saved me but I know I shouldn't be happy because this is wrong but I feel safe with you but I should be fighting you and I miss my home and my friends and I'm so scared oh I'm so scared!" she whimpered out in one breath.

My heart broke. My poor little puppy... "Oh, little one, please do not be afraid of me. I will take care of you. It's all okay. You do not have to worry about a thing. You can live comfortably for your entire life, I will take care of you. And those men, or anyone, will not ever hurt you again." I stroked her wet hair. "As for what is right and wrong, you should not concern yourself with those matters. You are just a little puppy, those things are beyond you."

"I am not a puppy. I am a lady." She crossed her arms and tried to squirm out of my lap, but I held her tight.

"Do ladies eat from bowls on the floor? Do ladies crawl around on all fours? Do they sit at their master's feet?" I asked, pointing out some of the things she had come to do.

"Well... no! But I. You make. I just-" she stuttered.

"No, they don't. Puppies do. And, furthermore, I want you to be a puppy, so it shall be."

"No! You... you can't.. I don't want..." she was whimpering and burying her face into my chest.

"Think of how easy the rest of your life will be, little one. No bills. No job. No stress, truly. I will handle all of that human stuff. All you have to do is please your master, like every good puppy does." I show in a soft, but assertive hush. She trembled. Of course that sounded lovely. No responsibility? Who wouldn't be tempted by that? But of course that meant completely allowing her submissive side to dominate, as contradictory as it sounds.

"Don't you want to please your master, Cleo? Let me stand as the center of your world. You could not survive without me, know that. But oh my little, sweet pup, I can tell you are so naturally servile, it's exquisitely beautiful."

She whimpered. I could tell I was getting to her. "But. I'm a girl. And I. But, what if. How? I don't know what to do!"

"That's the lovely thing about giving in. As your master, I will make all those bothersome choices for you. All you have to do is obey my orders. Without question. Didn't that sound nice? I will take care of you."

She cried a little more, but I could tell she was tiring. I wiped her tears from her face and turned her chin up to make her look me in the eyes. Oh they were so lovely, so dark, but completely soft. Behind them was a little submissive being, dying to let go.

"Submit, puppy slave." I said in a very low tone that rumbled. Her eyes fluttered and she sucked in her breath. My voice had the desired effect. She was melting.

"Okay." She squeaked out.

"Okay what?" I wanted to hear her say what she was giving in to, specifically.

"Okay. I'm giving in, I'm just a puppy."

I smiled. "Whose puppy?"

"Yours."

"And who am I?"

She looked down. The word seemed to be on her next breath.

"Puppy, who am I?" I pulled her chin up.

"Master." She said with a whimper.

My heart soared. I stroked her cheek lovingly. Finally.

I was very excited about what I was going to do next, I had been dreaming about it since the day I brought my puppy home.