A Bushy Tale

by Jean Roberta

Louanne and Thomasina (who could stand being called Tommy but not Tommy-girl) were getting acquainted over leisurely cups of coffee on the patio of Café Mocha. They had been introduced by their mutual friend Mick, a dyke d.j. who enjoyed watching women on a crowded dance floor, and occasionally tried to match them up. The spring weather was bright and breezy, coaxing all the trees and plants in the neighborhood to show their first trusting leaves.

"Do you like your job?" Louanne asked Tommy, whose arm muscles impressed her. Louanne imagined being wrestled to the floor, and it made her blush. She had been told a few things about Tommy, but decided to stick to safe topics.

"Oh, yes," Tommy smiled. She was noticing the way sunlight brought out the reddish-gold highlights in the wood-brown hair that brushed Louanne's shoulders. Tommy wanted to stroke it, gather it up in one hand, and pull it to bring Louanne's mouth closer to hers. She decided to focus on the conversation.

"I work for the Humane Society, you know. When we get complaints about animal abuse, I go check them out. If I find that, uh, the animals shows signs of abuse, I bring them back to the shelter and we take care of them. I like watching them recover."

Louanne beamed, and Tommy gave her an answering smile. "I know what you mean," Louanne assured her, even though she seriously doubted whether anyone really knew what anyone else meant. "I've been a volunteer counsellor on the sexual assault and abuse line for a few years. Dealing with women who've been abused is hard, but it's good to see them getting their lives back, little by little."

"You sound like a good counselor," remarked Tommy, thinking that some delicate flirting would not be taken amiss. She noticed that Louanne's face was classically beautiful, and almost innocent of makeup.

Louanne looked charmingly abashed. "I just listen," she explained modestly. "That's all we can do. I just wish there wasn't such a need."

"I bet your clients are glad they have you to talk to. Do you have any other job?" Tommy persisted.

This implication that Louanne had no income and was looking for a Sugar Mama made uncomfortable prickles rise up her neck. "I've worked in the library for eight years," she snapped, sounding colder than she intended. "Books are my life," she added. "I love helping people do research. You never know what you'll find when you start digging for information."

"I'm sure," laughed Tommy, stretching. She had an easy, contagious laugh which she sometimes used to hide her quick, contagious temper. She had heard the chill in Louanne's voice, and wondered if the book-lover thought the animal-lover was stupid. Tommy hated being patronized.

She reached for the front page of the local newspaper, which lay neglected on an adjoining table. "What do you think of this?" Tommy asked Louanne, referring to the headline about government cutbacks to libraries and educational institutions.

Louanne took the paper from Tommy's hand, letting her fingers linger. Tommy was slightly surprised, and looked thoughtfully at the other woman's dark, clouded eyes.

Louanne was looking at the front page. "Aggh," she sputtered. "The case of the South End Rapist. He's only being tried for the latest one, but we've heard about him for years. The cops are idiots."

"Have you met the victims?" asked Tommy. This was getting so interesting that she was only vaguely aware that her words might be politically incorrect.

"Not the one he's being tried for," sighed Louanne. She couldn't take her eyes off the article. "Who writes this stuff? Everything he did is described. He tied her up and forced her to - there was vaginal and anal."

"Male bastard," Tommy remarked calmly. "Why they like to do it without consent is beyond me." Louanne noticed that she had the bright blue eyes and freckled face of a healthy farm girl, but her energy was edgy and urban. Louanne decided not to think about consent.

"She's a teenage girl who met him in a chat room on the internet," Louanne pointed out. "When will women and kids learn how dangerous that is?"

Tommy decided to play the devil's advocate. "Do you really think that's more dangerous than finding a pen pal through a club that's been set up to bring people together, or even meeting someone at work or through a friend? Reaching out to a stranger always involves a risk because ya never know. And no one can promise you that someone else is perfectly safe." She paused. "Everyone wants something," she mused.

"Everyone," asserted Louanne. Tommy noticed a trace of bitterness in the set of her mouth. "But not everyone is an asshole."

"Doing it to someone who doesn't want it seems stupid to me," she assured her companion. "I can't see what guys get out of that. But desire isn't a simple thing. Sometimes people don't know what they want until they see it, feel it, taste it."

The two women looked at each other for a heartbeat. Tommy reached for Louanne's hand, and it was not pulled away. Tommy heard a soft, answering sigh. "But don't some things, uh, hurt no matter what?" asked the librarian. She wanted to know.

"Some things," agreed Tommy. "But some kinds of pain are good, you know? And some - activities just need lots of good will and lube." She licked her lips. "And natural wetness. Encouragement. You gotta be willing and eager."

Louanne's eyes flashed, showing a mixture of feelings. "Eagerness isn't always appreciated," she countered. "Willing women get called some ugly names."

Tommy turned and squeezed Louanne's hand. "I have the greatest respect," she assured her, "for sluts."

The shared laughter of the two women resembled an impromptu duet. "Me too," agreed Louanne. "Would you like to show me your collection?"

"Of what?" prompted Tommy.

"Whatever you've got," responded Louanne. "Everyone has a collection of something."

Tommy snickered. "Sure, come to my place to see the sights." They stood up together, and Louanne was revealed to be half-a-head taller than Tommy. The shorter woman looked compact and fit in contrast with Louanne's willowy form and loose-jointed gait.

Tommy drove Louanne to an old brick apartment building that had a certain period charm. Tommy parked in her space in the parking lot. She helped her date out of the car and herded her, with a warm hand on Louanne's lower back, up a short flight of concrete steps to a heavy wooden door with the name "Fairfield" on it.

In the tile-floored entranceway, Louanne faced a flight of wooden stairs which were graced with a curved black banister. Grasping it for support, she found it slick with layers of old shellack. Louanne was reminded of the 1940s detective novels that she had read as a teenager.

On the first landing, Louanne paused to catch her breath. Tommy circled her waist and pressed her crotch into Louanne's jeans-covered butt. "Need a rest?" Tommy chuckled.

"Just - for a minute," gasped her guest. Embarrassed by her weakness, Louanne moved forward as soon as she felt she could tackle the next flight.

Tommy's apartment was on the third floor, and Louanne was relieved when the number on the door came into her view. She stood still, trying not to gasp for air. She didn't want to give the impression of being helpless or out of control.

"Why, babe?" Tommy asked. She smiled coolly. "Why did you climb up all these stairs with me?"

Louanne was taken off-guard. "You asked me," she exhaled.

"So do you accept every invitation you get from people you hardly know?"

Louanne filled her lungs, clutching the railing. "Well, you don't seem dangerous." With alarm, she noted the common sense in Tommy's question. Louanne didn't like to consider herself a risk-taker.

"Because I'm a woman? Does that make me trustworthy?" Tommy barked with laughter. "Is that what you believe? Or maybe you think you're safe here with me because it was really your idea."

Tommy stayed behind Louanne, holding her by the waist so that her guest couldn't see her face. "How many times have you advised other women to avoid rushing off into the unknown?" she taunted. "Are you sure you could outrun me if you wanted to?"

This question sounded rhetorical, and Louanne didn't answer it. "Now you're here," Tommy reminded Louanne, her mouth close to her guest's ear. "You've worked so hard to get here that I bet you'd like to stay awhile. Welcome to my cave, honey." Tommy smoothly unlocked her door with one hand and pushed Louanne forward with the other.

Tommy closed the door behind her and ran a hand through Louanne's silken hair. "I like reckless women," Tommy purred. "They're usually bitches in heat."

Tommy calmly unbuttoned Louanne's cheerful checked shirt, exposing a powder-blue bra cupping mounds of pink skin. Louanne sighed from the depths of her lungs - if possible, from her womb. "You want to play, don't you?" grinned Tommy.

"Yup," Louanne muttered. "It's been a long time." She couldn't look Tommy in the eyes.

"You must want a break from books and words," grinned the hostess as though reading her guest's mind. Tommy unzipped Louanne's jeans, and the taller woman pulled them down. "And we both know you can't think clearly when you want something, don't we?" Louanne was speechless, and it made her look younger than usual.

Tommy helped Louanne out of her underwear and threw it aside. Then she wrapped her arms around the naked woman and reached up to kiss her. The gentle pressure increased until Louanne's mouth opened and Tommy's tongue slipped inside. Slipping off her everyday common sense, Louanne moaned. A subtle tremor ran from her tingling scalp to her sweaty feet.

Louanne kicked off her shoes to bring herself closer to Tommy's height, but the difference still made both women feel awkward. Tommy thought of a solution. "Down," she growled playfully into Louanne's hair, pushing her forward with a hand on her back. Louanne slid gracefully to the floor, settling herself on all fours on the cool tiles of the hallway.

The hostess saw the tension that her guest was trying hard to control, and sensed her fear that she was taking an unreasonable risk, the kind that might lead to physical damage or to weeks, months or years of scalding regret.

"I won't hurt you, honey," Tommy soothed her in the voice she used on frightened animals. "You need someone to take care of you and help you let go. I want to watch you, pretty thing. I won't push you too far. This time." Tommy grabbed a handful of Louanne's damp, messy hair and pulled it away from her face. She let it go and stroked Louanne's head, then her back and her sassy rump.

"Ohh," moaned Louanne. Her captor's touch, and her suggestion that their relationship had an educational future, was scary and exciting in equal parts. For once, Louanne really didn't know what to say.

Tommy was pleased to note that her captured stray was already losing her human vocabulary, but she wanted a clearer answer. "Okay?" she demanded.

"Okay," agreed the woman on the floor. For now, she thought.

"Good girl," gloated the animal-tamer. Her small, strong right hand slid down the crack between Louanne's smooth asscheeks. Finding her cunt wetter than expected, Tommy pushed two fingers in as far as they could go, pressing one against a spongy cervix. Louanne inhaled sharply. "Bet you didn't think you'd get this much this soon," remarked the genial hostess, adding another finger and pushing rhythmically in and out. She could feel Louanne's startled cunt relax and then squeeze the trespassing digits.

Tommy changed her angle and her tempo. "I'm just getting started, baby," she smirked. "This is just to open you up. You can come any time you want." The words of the seductress had a dramatic effect on Louanne, whose breathing grew much louder. She came in quick, hard spasms, panting.

Both women breathed in unison. "So responsive," praised Tommy, sliding her free hand up to grasp one of Louanne's breasts. She gently withdrew her fingers from their warm home and slid them, one by one, into Louanne's mouth where they were sucked clean.

The woman on the floor wiggled with pleasure and shifted to ease the pressure on her hands and knees. "Oh Tommy," she sighed. She rose up, and sat back on her heels.

The slap on her butt surprised her into sinking back down. "Stay," commanded Tommy. Her tone was good-natured, but it carried an expectation of obedience. "Stay down," added the pet fancier. "And no words, my bitch." She offered Louanne her hand again, and this time she felt a tentative tongue licking her palm.

Tommy was secretly impressed by her companion's willingness to try on a new role; as she knew from experience, it wasn't always this easy. Images of Louanne in costumes ranging from angel wings attached to straps that framed and supported bare breasts to bunny ears and a fluffy tail flashed through Tommy's mind. At the moment, however, her clit responded best to the challenge of bringing out the basic animal in the woman.

"You must be thirsty," remarked the new owner. "Are you?"

Louanne wiggled her rump and tried barking like the dog she knew best, an old terrier who still lived with her parents. "Stay," repeated Tommy, than she went to the kitchenette to fill a bowl with water.

Louanne prided herself on being a quick study, and she wanted her sensual hunger to be fully satisfied. Animal characters from children's books pranced and jumped and flew through her mind, and did shocking things before she could stop them. She imagined a naughty boy pig pulling down his new blue trousers and mounting a girl pig from behind while the wind blew her skirt up, grinning porcupines mating belly-to-belly, a sleek stallion pushing a huge red cock into a restless, whinnying mare, a mother mouse in an apron cuddling her fashionably-dressed (as of 1910) lady-mouse visitor, a thick-furred, bright-eyed collie lustfully chasing another bushy-tailed dog around a tree. In the real world, Louanne's pussy was so wet that she could feel the cool air of the apartment drying her pubic bush. She was certainly thirsty.

Tommy set the bowl of water on the floor in front of Louanne. By this time, the naked woman found it almost natural to crouch down and lap the cool water with her tongue and lips. "Ahh," murmured her owner approvingly, pulling her hair out of the way and tickling her neck. In some way, the casual familiarity of Tommy's touch felt more intimate than being fucked.

Louanne resisted the impulse to wipe her mouth, and raised her head to show her owner that she was finished drinking. "Good girl," approved Tommy. Louanne felt more refreshed by the praise than by the water. "You could wag your tail if you had one." Louanne shivered. She could guess what was coming.

"Hold still, Lulu." Tommy walked away. In a moment, she returned holding something like a wig on a stick. Watching it closely as Tommy approached her, Louanne saw that it had a bone handle carved in a series of knobs. A thick tail of black and chocolate-brown hair hung from one end.

The handle felt cool and slippery, apparently coasted with lubrication of some kind. Louanne's anus was gently held open, and the handle was twisted against it until it slid in. Louanne gasped as the object pushed deeper and deeper into her in a rhythm like a pulse. "Hold it, girl," ordered her trainer, stroking Louanne's cunt-lips to calm her. "Squeeze it."

Louanne squeezed. The foreign object in her ass felt uncomfortable, and she wondered if Tommy would pull it out if asked. Louanne didn't want to disappoint by showing herself squeamish, a chicken, a party-pooper. She tried not to think about needing to poop.

"Nice, baby!" Tommy remarked, flicking the tail as it twitched with each squeeze of Louanne's anal muscles. The squeezing was nerve-racking, since it sent tremors into her cunt and threatened to send her clit into a frenzy. Louanne sensed that a good dog was not supposed to come while being fitted with a tail.

The tail-twitching lesson was so distracting that Louanne hardly noticed when Tommy left her for a moment. She returned with something else in her hands. "You need a collar," explained Tommy, showing it to her pet. The brown leather of the collar looked new, and a metal tag hung from it. Tommy adjusted the collar to Louanne's neck, giving her room to breathe but making sure that the slight pressure could not be ignored. The proud owner attached a nylon leash to the loop that held the metal tag. Louanne was now ready to be taken for a walk.

The collared woman wondered what important information was engraved on the tag: an identification number? Record of vaccination for an actual pet? Apparently she was not supposed to know.

"I'll show you your new home, Lulu," Tommy told her. She tugged on the leash, and Louanne crawled after her as quickly and gracefully as she could; she was aware of how awkward she must look. Every movement jostled the hard plug in her ass, which was designed to make itself at home there.

Owner and pet entered a sunny room filled with comfortable, well-worn furniture from the 1950s, including a sofa and chair upholstered in a loud red-and-yellow flowered print. The crawling woman felt as if these large objects were inviting her to pee on them, and she wondered what the penalty for that would be.

"This is the living room," Tommy told her pet, "and you're not allowed in here on your own. This is where I entertain human company." Louanne felt as if Tommy could read her mind, and she felt heat rushing into her face.

The woman's sore knees welcomed the cool linoleum of the kitchen floor. "This is where you'll be fed, baby," her owner explained, "and house-trained."

The bathroom was next. "When you're dirty, you'll get washed in the tub," Tommy told Louanne. "Just like a person," she added. "I like to spoil my creatures, and I expect them to behave. No wiggling, no splashing. And no biting, ever." Louanne barked to show that she understood.

The bedroom came next. From Louanne's eye-view, the four-poster bed looked incredibly high. An assortment of shoes and books lay scattered underneath. "If you're very, very good," promised her owner, "you get to sleep at the foot of the bed." Louanne was tempted to climb up immediately, but she held still instead, focusing on her breathing. Tommy casually wrapped the handle of the leash around a bed poster, then reached under her woman to cup her breasts, jiggle and stroke them.

Tommy rolled and squeezed Louanne's nipples until they each looked an inch long. The woman tried howling quietly, wondering if this reaction was acceptable. It was.

A small clamp was attached to the pet's left nipple, and she yelped before she could get her reactions under control. Her owner smiled, and attached the other clamp. Louanne whimpered, and Tommy soothed her with long, slow strokes down her belly to her damp bush. An electric current seemed to connect the bone handle in her back entrance and the cruelly nagging clamps on her tits. "I know they hurt," her owner assured her. "It's only for a little while. You'll get used to them."

Crawling back to the kitchen seemed to take twice as long as all the rest of the tour. "Good girl," Tommy encouraged her. "Now you get a snack." She poured half a small bagful of nacho chips onto a plate, and set it on the floor. "There you go."

Louanne didn't see how she could eat the brittle, oddly-shaped chips without using her hands. The challenge appealed to her. She didn't feel hungry, but she wanted a distraction from the pressure on her nipples and in her butt. Most of all, she wanted to show off.

Tommy stood slightly behind her, watching. Louanne lowered her head and reached for a nacho chip with her mouth. Using her tongue and teeth, she was able to bite off a piece so that the rest fell back onto the plate. She chewed, swallowed and returned for more. The pile of yellow chips steadily grew smaller.

Finishing the last chip, Louanne felt full in every way. She realized that the inevitable was happening: her intestines were telling her that she had to take a shit. She whined and rubbed against Tommy's legs, hoping she would understand and show mercy.

"I bet you want to go outside," chuckled the owner. This was a possibility that hadn't occurred to the pet. Tommy grasped her tail and drew it out, twisting it on its way. Louanne was teased, relieved and worried at the same time. She craved privacy as much as she needed air, and she wondered if she could control her bowels until she could be alone. She wished she had noticed whether there were any large bushes on the grounds outside the building.

Tommy spread a newspaper on the floor. She tapped it with her shoe. "Here, puppy," she grinned.

The woman gazed up, pleading with her eyes. How could she shit on the floor in full view of her new - what? Date? Girlfriend? Domme? Whatever Tommy was to her, Louanne was sure she would be disgusted to the core by the sight and smell of waste emerging from her new pet's protruding ass.

Louanne tried to crawl out of the room. "No, puppy," warned Tommy. She rolled up a section of newspaper and slapped her other hand with it as a warning. Louanne stopped, and shifted from one knee to the other. She looked at the newspaper on the floor, and looked away.

"Bad!" snapped Tommy. The rolled-up newspaper landed resoundingly across Louanne's lower cheeks. "Bad dog!" The newspaper landed again and again in a series of sharp slaps. The pet howled, but did not speak. "Here!" ordered Tommy, pointing to the square of newspaper on the floor.

Louanne was forced to consider the slippery nature of pride, and how much regret she might feel if she gave up now after coming this far. The saying "Pee or get off the pot" had never been so relevant.

Blushing hard, Louanne squatted, lowering her thighs as far as possible. She pushed, and felt the humiliating relief of the first turd emerging. It hit the newspaper with a soft thud, and was followed by another. Louanne let go, letting her human shame leave her body with everything else she didn't need. A stream of piss wet the newspaper and spread under Louanne's knees.

"Good girl," Tommy murmured into Louanne's ear, rubbing it. She sounded more impressed than before. Her pet realized that she couldn't use her hands or knees for anything other than holding herself up. They were wet with warm urine.

"Let's get you cleaned up, girl," crooned the pet-lover. Louanne was grateful when Tommy helped her to her feet and let the naked woman lean on her shoulder. Tommy half-carried Louanne into the bathroom.

Tommy turned on the taps, and steaming water gushed into the clean white bathtub. Three small red beads were tossed in, and bubbles quickly formed on the surface. Tommy waited until the water was halfway up the sides of the tub before turning it off. "In you go," she told her pet, patting her reddened butt.

The caress of warm water on Louanne's skin felt exquisite, even though it stung on her lower cheeks and increased the dull ache in her breasts. The woman positioned herself on all fours on the floor of the tub, finding the rubber strips which would prevent her from slipping.

Tommy filled a nylon puff with creamy soap, and spread it over Louanne's back, arms and legs. She washed her thoroughly, and even shampooed her hair twice, rinsing it carefully under a stream of fresh water. The woman felt herself floating into another dimension.

Turning her head, Louanne was surprised to notice that Tommy had taken off all her own clothes, and she was adjusting a harness that held a flesh-colored dildo in the form of a penis, complete with veins. The word "patriarchal" flashed through the pet's mind, but she was unable to form a sentence around it. Another idea seemed to be forming somewhere on the edges of her consciousness; it seemed like a cloud formed from a vague desire, something which could assume a hard, firm, definite shape later on.

"You want to be bred, don't you, girl?" The question was rhetorical, since Tommy was climbing into the tub behind Louanne, who gave her a welcoming bark. A bizarre image of a rubber doll, fathered by Tommy's cock, popped into Louanne's mind, and she almost laughed aloud.

The device filled her to satisfaction, and she pushed back with enthusiasm. Louanne hadn't realized how desperately she wanted it until it was in, and then she knew how close she was to an orgasm from the first thrust. Tommy fucked her without restraint, and pulled the clamps off her nipples without warning. Louanne howled as she came, holding onto the sides of the tub.

The aftermath was tender. Tommy helped her woman out of the tub, wrapped her in a large, fluffy towel, removed her harness from her own loins, then devoted her full attention to drying every inch of Louanne's clean, glowing body.

"You're good, baby," the new owner told her proudly. "I want to enter you in a show." Louanne stared at her. "When you're ready," Tommy assured her. "You have what it takes to be a show dog. I bet some of the other owners will offer to buy you, but I'm not selling." Louanne seemed to withdraw into herself.

"You all right, baby?" the new owner asked with concern. "You can speak to me."

Finding words again was hard; Louanne felt as if she had just been told to communicate in a second language. "Uh - yes, I'm all right," she answered, looking into Tommy's eyes. She was surprised at the depth of sympathy, affection and anxiety she saw there. So an owner could feel insecure. Of course. "I'm fine," Louanne assured her. "I just didn't know there was a club for dogs and their owners."

Tommy was delighted. "You have no idea, honey!" she gushed. "You'll have a lot of fun. Really. And Lulu - " she seemed suddenly shy - "I'm so glad I met you."

The vague idea that had been tugging at Louanne's mind was taking shape. Tommy wanted the bitch in Louanne, and this was not necessarily an obedient pet. The woman, now restored to herself, realized that animals have strength and acute senses, they have teeth for hunting and claws for defense, they have their own ways. They can be intimidating. The humans who seek them out wouldn't really want them to be otherwise. Louanne smiled to herself, wondering why she had ever found it hard to see herself as tough and feminine at the same time.

Louanne rubbed herself against the shorter woman. "Oh yes," she assured her. "I'm sure we'll both get what we want." She vaguely remembered an animal character named Thomasina in a book from her childhood, and the memory tickled her. "You can trust me, honey." Louanne's smile was feral, and Tommy realized that she had finally found the right animal familiar.

_______________

email Jean Roberta

Jean Roberta is a woman of a certain age who teaches English at a Canadian prairie university and embarrasses her friends, relatives and students with her erotic writing and opinionated editorials. Her erotic stories have been widely published in anthologies such as "Wicked Words 3" (Black Lace, UK), the "Best Lesbian Erotica" series (Cleis Press, USA) and "Shameless" (Seal Press, USA) as well as websites and print journals. Her lesbian novel, "Prairie Gothic" is available from Amatory Ink (www.amatory-ink.co.uk).

A Bushy Tale © 2003 by Jean Roberta