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   PET

   SYNOPSIS

   Raised by hopelessly repressed and dysfunctional parents in a wealthy
suburb, an adolescent girl rebels by rejecting authority and social
interaction, becoming a bitter, introverted loner.  She drops out of
school, alienates her childhood friends, and spends her days in her room,
unnoticed by her remote, workaholic father and at war with her sexually
neglected, neurotic mother.  She has a pretty face, but refuses to care for
her appearance or health and immerses herself in alternative music and
entertainment.  Finally, jaded and depressed, unable to relate to the
artificial culture of her television or the moral wasteland outside her
room, she turns to drugs.  Her weight drops drastically, she shaves her
head and cultivates a Gothic, androgenous appearance as a protest against
what she sees as the depraved shallowness of sex- and money-driven American
society.

   Accidentally involved in a drug bust while buying cocaine, she is
jailed, rejected by her parents, and sentenced in juvenile court to a year
in a girls' work camp.  She is placed on a bus with other prisoners for
transport to her incarceration.  At a rest stop, she suddenly disappears,
kidnaped by a shadowy and very capable team of women who take her, bound
and heavily sedated, to a remote and secret clinic.  There she is kept for
nearly a year, while an exhaustive program of cosmetic surgeries,
pharmaceutical treatments and enforced physical therapy and nourishment
transform her from an anemic, drug-wasted waif into a lovely, outrageously
voluptuous siren.  Psychotherapy and hormone supplements leave her
confused, partially amnesic and with a constantly overstimulated sex drive.
As she recovers, she manifests anger and outrage at her mistreatment, deep
self-pity and emotional instability.  She is prone to tantrums and
violently irrational behavior.

   When her physical health is completely restored, she is sent to a huge,
beautiful estate outside a major city in the southeastern United States. 
This institution is called the House by those who live there, and its
purpose is to educate, train and support hundreds of very sophisticated,
very accomplished modern geishas, who are sent on assignments around the
world as companions, models and courtesans, and in other, more mysterious
roles.  Its clients are major international companies, governments, and
fabulously wealthy private citizens.  Part girls' school, part prison, part
corporation and part brothel, the House is ruled by a mysterious woman
called simply the Mistress and its students are called House girls. 
Administration, training, education and discipline are the responsibilities
of the Ladies of the House, a staff of graduate House girls who live at the
House permanently, keeping order, teaching classes, and personally
overseeing every facet of the lives of the House girls assigned to their
care.

   Every House girl has a personal Lady whom she serves and who has total
authority over her training and her life.  The kidnap victim is assigned to
the care and service of one of the most senior Ladies, a tall and
aristocratically beautiful dominant named Cissy.  She receives a new name,
Pet.  Her memory of her previous name has been erased.  Still angry and
maladjusted, Pet takes every opportunity to rebel against the strict rules
of the House and against her Lady, Cissy, who rules her with an iron hand.
Misbehavior results in cruel, often erotic punishment.  House girls are
also required to serve their Ladies sexually, as part of their training,
and Pet learns the hard way that she must do as Cissy instructs, in and out
of bed.

   The House is maintained and the House girls are cared for by a corps of
professional maids who serve meals, clean, organize and perform every sort
of personal service for the girls and the Ladies of the House, on duty in
shifts twenty-four hours a day.

   During her first six months at the House, Pet earns a reputation as an
outlaw, making no friends and contesting with her Lady over every detail of
her training.  As time goes by, however, she unwillingly begins to respond
to Cissy's patient, inescapable authority.

   1.  IN THE DINING HALL

   I had to go to dinner with Cissy, and it sucked.  If I refused, I'd be
punished, and besides I was starving, but why couldn't my maids just bring
me something in my room and leave me in peace to eat it?  Now I had to get
dressed in a stupid slutty dress, and wear a push-up bra that would
practically leave welts, and sit in front of the vanity mirror looking at a
face that wasn't really mine while a maid did my makeup and hair and even
my nails.  It took more than an hour, plus the time in the bathroom to
shower and brush my teeth and stuff.

   Class had been hell, even though it wasn't Posture Class, just
Cosmetics, but I'd been asked a question and hadn't known the answer and
the other girls all looked at me like I was a retard.  If I could have
gotten any one of them alone, I would have made her sorry, but of course
that would never happen.  The duty Trainers watched us like hawks.

   Cissy came for me at six, perfectly punctual, and perfectly dressed and
perfectly polite and perfectly proper, and I perfectly fucking hated her.
She said, "Good Evening, Pet.  You look very nice in your new dress." 'It's
not my dress and you only think I look very nice because of what the maids
did to me, so let's just get dinner over with and never mind the insincere
compliments,' I thought.  "Good Evening, Cissy.  Thank you, Cissy," I said.
I was too tired and too hungry to risk being punished tonight, and I took
some cheer from the fact that we were eating in the dining hall, not
Cissy's suite, so I might not have to have sex with her afterward.  She
offered me her arm and I put my hand on it, and she thanked my night maid,
who curtsied.  I never bothered with any pleasantries where the maids were
concerned, after all they were just hired help and their main function was
to rag me and spy on me.  Although they seemed to be compassionate toward
me sometimes, they were clearly on the House's side, so I detested them. 
On the way downstairs, Cissy asked how my day had gone as she drifted along
elegantly like she'd been born in those heels, and I told her the truth,
just to see if she would be irritated.

   "I'm sorry, Pet," she said with aggravating sympathy.  "Are you sure you
didn't know the answer?"

   Caught off guard, I answered honestly again, but I couldn't help feeling
ashamed.  "I read it, but I didn't remember until after she told me," I
replied sullenly, not meeting her eyes.

   "Please don't feel badly.  Mademoiselle Kelly told me at tea this
afternoon that you have shown an improvement in Cosmetics Class, and I'm
sure you simply had a lapse of memory."

   Somehow that bothered me more than if she had been angry.  "Cissy, when
are you going to realize that I really am as stupid as everybody thinks?  I
never know the answers, and I think the classes are pointless anyway.  I'm
not trying to make you mad at me, I'm just being honest.  If I have to go
through this training, why can't I learn to do something useful?  I know
the House has classes in all kinds of things.  Why can't I take History, or
Cuisine or Art, or something?"

   "I'm sure you know the answer to that, Pet," she said firmly.  "You are
being trained to become a House girl, and although I am not giving you a
choice of classes, I have told you that I will allow you electives when you
are further along.  First you must show me that you can do well in these
more essential disciplines.  You cannot be a House girl if you don't
understand Cosmetics.  Or Etiquette, or Posture, or Couture.  It's that
simple." She gave me that Cissy look of totally inflexible authority.  The
Ownership Look, I called it.  I almost, almost snapped back at her.  The
obvious response was that a House girl was a prostitute and I didn't want
to be one, and I never would be.  But by then I would have been raising my
voice and arguing with her and although she would never argue back, I was
sure to wind up being punished.  I had promised myself that I would get
through dinner without that tonight.  I ground my teeth and shut up.

   "Also, Pet, I want you to stop saying that you are stupid.  It isn't
true," she added, just to make sure she had the last word.  I had the last
word in my mind, and it had four letters.

   By the time we got to the dining hall, my feet were killing me.  I had
different shoes for just about every outfit I wore, and they all gave me
blisters in different places.  The heels were too high, the straps were too
tight and some of them were mules, and didn't even have straps so I had to
keep them on my feet by scrunching my toes.  I saw it as a subtle form of
torture designed to make me docile and helpless.  And my bra hurt too, and
so did my back, because my tits were too big.  WAY too big, and they
bothered me all the time.  I couldn't sleep in certain positions, I
couldn't move quickly without them swinging or bouncing and looking really
dumb, and they got in the way of everything I did and made me even more
awkward than I already was, and they were very sensitive and tender,
especially my nipples.  It was totally, maddeningly unfair.  The House had
no right to change my body.  A girl's body should belong to her, and nobody
else.

   Now my body belonged to Cissy.  But I had sworn my mind never would.

   Cissy held a chair out for me, and I sat down with relief.  She
hesitated for just a second, and I said, "Thank you, Cissy." Then she went
around to her own seat and arranged herself with perfect grace.  She picked
up her napkin and put it in her lap, and I copied her, wondering what I
would be allowed to have.  The dining hall wasn't really a hall, like a big
open space.  It had a lot of columns and archways and potted plants and
other stuff that kind of divided it into little rooms, so it seemed more
private.  The walls were white stucco and the floor was beautiful stone
tile, and the soft indirect lighting made it feel very comfortable.  I
could see two other tables from where I was, and there were couples at both
of them, House girls and their Ladies.  They all gave Cissy respectful
glances, and she smiled at them regally.

   During dinner, I tried to keep up with Cissy's occasional comments, but
mainly I paid attention to my table manners because I knew she was watching
closely.  This was probably the biggest pitfall of the evening.  I knew how
to do this stuff after endless training at Etiquette Class, but it was
complicated with all the different utensils and glasses and I would fuck up
if I didn't concentrate.  That had often been the excuse she needed to
punish me.  She seemed in a pretty good mood tonight, but if I took a bite
with the wrong fork that wouldn't matter.

   Cissy ordered for me like she always did, as if I couldn't even decide
for myself what I wanted to eat.  She knew I didn't like beef, and she was
kind enough to pass up the filet mignon on the special card, but she also
knew I liked chicken and contrarily ordered me grilled salmon, with lemon.
It was good, of course, as everything served at the House was, but it
wasn't what I wanted so I didn't enjoy it.  I ate all there was, though,
because I was so hungry and the little bit I got wouldn't have satisfied a
cat.  There were veggies too, and I ate them all, and I got one piece of
warm bread, with a trace of butter, which was the high point of my meal. 
Dessert was out of the question.

   Cissy gave me a couple of casual criticisms during dinner, one about my
posture and the other when I didn't finish chewing before taking a drink of
water, but I didn't let them irritate me very much.  At least I was eating,
and she wasn't truly lecturing me as she often did.  She had the same thing
as me, in the same dinky portion, which was probably to show me that it
wasn't too little.  Of course, there was nothing stopping her from eating
as much as she wanted later when she got home, if she was still hungry. 
Presumably I wasn't supposed to be smart enough to figure that out.

   After the main course was cleared, I really did feel a little better.  I
was embarrassed, of course, with my huge boobs practically bursting out of
my slinky dress and the tops of my stockings clearly visible beneath my
too-short hemline, but I was only with Cissy so I didn't really care.  In
spite of the tense dislike I had for spending time with Cissy, we knew each
other well by now.  You can't sleep with someone at least twice a week, and
have meals with them even more often, without forming some kind of
relationship, and we had one, although it wasn't a comfortable one.  When I
wanted to, I knew what to do to get along with her, and since I had made it
through dinner without getting in trouble I just decided to "be good," as
people at the House were always telling me, and hope that I wouldn't have
to go to bed with her.  A maid came and asked if we wanted coffee.  The
maids who served in the dining hall and on the two terraces where meals
were available had little fitted black uniforms with white buttons, collars
and cuffs just like the personal maids and the day and night floor maids,
but their aprons were white instead of black with white lace trim.  Cissy
surprised me by ordering me a cappucino.  She knew I liked that.  Had I
really been that well-behaved, or was she trying to soften me up for
something I wouldn't like later on?  I decided it might be a reward and
enjoyed it.  She had coffee.

   She asked how I was coming with a novel she had given me, and I really
was reading it and it had turned out to be pretty good.  It was all about
the history of these imaginary vampires and was kind of Gothic and spooky,
and there was a lot of sex in it, but it was romantic too in a kind of
tragic way.  I told her which chapter I was on and she asked a couple of
questions about it, how I felt about this and that, and I told her, and the
next thing I knew we were talking almost like friends for a minute.  Then
another Lady came by our table to say Hello, with a cute, submissive
typical House girl in tow, and she greeted Cissy like she was a celebrity
and even said Good Evening to me.  I was flustered for a second, not having
expected to be noticed, but I said, "Good Evening, Mademoiselle," and
dropped my eyes as I was supposed to, and that got me by.  The only Lady of
the House that I didn't have to call "Mademoiselle" was Cissy, and that was
because our relationship was personal as well as official, although there
were still rules about how I was supposed to respectfully address her.  I
paid attention to them sometimes.

   After dinner, I got what I had been telling myself I wanted: Cissy
walked me back to my room instead of to her apartment.  I felt a little
more calm than I had on the way down, and I didn't really mind when Cissy
put her arm around me.  She smelled nice and the warmth of her felt good.
Inside my door, though, she kissed me Good Night right in front of my night
maid, who happened to be in my room straightening up or something.  I had
to do it, but it made me feel so ashamed.  Cissy smiled a little Mona Lisa
smile that was an affectation of hers, because she knew I was embarrassed,
and I suppose I was blushing.  Her kiss had sent a flash of familiar
excitement through my body and she knew it.  My overactive hormones and the
conditioning of being her unwilling lover for so long betrayed me, although
I insisted to myself that I didn't want her.  She said, "Good Night, Pet,"
softly and I murmured, "Good Night, Cissy.  Thank you for dinner," against
her neck, my eyes closed.

   "It was my pleasure, Pet," she said, so proper, and then she turned and
closed the door on her way out.  I stood looking after my owner for a
second.  I looked at the maid standing by the bathroom door, and then I
walked over to my bed and picked up a pillow and flung it against the door
so hard it bounced halfway back across the room.  The maid looked at it
stupidly and I said, "Look, there's a pillow on the floor.  You'd better
pick it up.  I need a shower." And I went into the bathroom and took one,
throwing my clothing a piece at a time back into the bedroom for my maid to
pick up if she felt like it.  In the shower, I could cry all I wanted, and
no one would know.

   *****

   In episode 2, Pet has earned a few hours in one of the House's
punishment rooms.