Dogsbody

“Going once… going twice…” Trucy banged her gavel. “SOLD! To the gentleman in the cool cyberpunk visor at the back!”

Klavier Gavin stopped flexing his muscles in dismay. Gentleman?! He was about to protest, but Ema Skye had already hooked her fingers around the loose plastic collar he wore and was leading him off the stage. He rattled off a string of German curses under his breath. Stupid Police Charity Bachelor Auction! Why had he volunteered? Why hadn’t he insisted that only women be permitted to bid on him? He hadn’t even seen who had won the auction – too busy showing off to the gaggle of gorgeous young ladies near the front of the crowd. It was bound to be some horny old pervert who’d want a blow job in the parking lot or something.

“Sign here, Mr. Armando,” Ema was saying. “Two hundred…that’s perfect.”

Klavier looked up and swallowed. The man who had bought him was tall, lean and tanned. He had white hair, a neat, dark beard, and wore an electronic visor that covered half of his face. He was dressed sharply in a shirt, tie, waistcoat and slacks.

“He’s all yours till midnight,” Ema remarked with a smirk.

Klavier could feel a smile creeping over his face. He couldn’t deny that his new owner was nice to look at. Even the thought of having to suck him off in the parking lot didn’t seem quite so bad.

The man – Mr. Armando – folded one arm across his waist and stroked the top ridge of his visor as he gave Klavier an appraising look.

“Very nice,” he remarked. He nodded to Ema. “You can take that off now.”

Klavier smiled in relief as Ema unfastened the silly hunk of hot pink plastic and put it away. His relief faded as Mr. Armando turned to pick something off a nearby chair, and held up a red leather collar covered with little gold bells.

“This one suits him better,” he purred, putting the collar around Klavier’s neck. Klavier was too stunned to object until his new owner produced a length of heavy-duty steel chain, the kind used to control police dogs, from his pocket, and clipped it to the back of Klavier’s collar.

“W-wait a minute!” Klavier protested. He cast a pleading look at Ema, who was cramming Snackoos into her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Sorry–” MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH* “-he paid two hundred big ones for you, Prosecutor Gavin–” MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH*MUNCH “-you’ve got to do what he says till midnight.”

“But – but…!”

Mr. Armando tugged the chain, jerking Klavier forward. “Come on, boy.”

Klavier sullenly followed him out of the room, past an old lady who was giving them evils. He heard Ema cracking up behind him.

They entered the parking lot and Klavier tried to prepare himself for whatever Mr. Armando would tell him to do. He wondered which car belonged to his new owner, trying to guess where he’d parked from the route they were taking.

He didn’t expect Mr. Armando to lead him to where the parking lot exited onto the street.

“Put this on,” Mr. Armando said, pulling a folded up piece of fluorescent yellow material out of his pocket and handing it to Klavier. Klavier unfolded it and held it up. It was a hi-visibility vest. Printed on the back in bold, black type was a silhouette of a dog’s head, and the words “Please don’t distract me while I’m working!”

Klavier frowned for a couple of seconds and then realised where he’d seen something similar – on guide dogs for the blind. He looked at Mr. Armando, who was regarding him with a faint smirk.

“Walk in front of me,” Mr. Armando instructed. “We’re going for coffee.”

Klavier frowned sulkily. “No.”

Mr. Armando cocked his head slightly. “No? You forget yourself, Prosecutor. For the next…” he checked his watch. “…nine hours, I own you. Do as I say.”

“I am not walking down the street wearing this!” Klavier replied angrily. “Or this!” He tugged on his collar, making the bells jingle. “Just take me wherever and – and do what you really want to do with me.” He wrapped a hand around the chain and tried to tug it out of the older man’s grasp.

Mr. Armando pulled back with a strength Klavier hadn’t thought him capable of, yanking him off-balance. Klavier grabbed the nearby wall to steady himself.

“Don’t fuck with me, Goldilocks,” Mr. Armando snarled. “You’re mine until midnight tonight. Now do as you're told.”

Klavier looked up at him through his blond hair. No-one had ever spoken to him like that before – not even Kristoph, who preferred sarcasm and head games to blunt strength. He wondered if Mr. Armando was this forceful in bed…and bit his lip in disbelief as his cock twitched at the thought.

“Okay,” Klavier replied, slipping the vest on. His owner smirked, nodding slightly in approval.

“Good boy,” he purred. “Now, we’re going to that coffee shop down there…” he pointed, “across the street and on the corner.”

Klavier nodded and began to walk ahead of Mr. Armando.

“Touch that leash again,” he heard from behind him, “and I’ll cuff your hands.”

Klavier cringed a little. Scheiße, why did that turn him on?

The feeling quickly faded when he realised that people were staring at him. Klavier was suddenly glad of the vest; he hadn’t worn a shirt to the auction. He was rapidly starting to regret his choice of buttless denim chaps over a pair of white briefs, too. The stupid collar jingled softly every time he took a step. Rudolf the Red-Faced Reindeer. He prayed that they wouldn’t meet anyone he knew.

They reached the crosswalk. Klavier stopped at the kerb, only for Mr. Armando to walk up beside him. Remembering his role, Klavier gently touched his owner’s arm before he could step into the street.

“Good boy,” Mr. Armando remarked, stroking Klavier’s long blond hair. “But next time, bark.”

Klavier looked at him. “…You can’t be serious.”

Mr. Armando was leaning back slightly, and though it was difficult to tell with the visor, Klavier was certain he was looking at his ass. “Watch the sign.”

Klavier faced forward again, wondering if the next stage of this bizarre roleplay was a clip-on tail and furry ears.

The sign changed to “WALK” and the people around them began to move across the street. Klavier made to step into the road and his owner pulled him back.

“Bark.”

Klavier looked at him in disbelief. Mr. Armando was smirking, but there was a hint of menace in his smile. Klavier swallowed, faced the crossing again, and cleared his throat.

“Rau rau!”

Mr. Armando snickered. “Very convincing. Let’s go.”

As they stepped into the crosswalk, Klavier tried to take the lead again, only for Mr. Armando to yank hard on his leash. He only relaxed the tension when Klavier was walking beside him.

“Stay next to me when we’re in the street,” he instructed.

Klavier rolled his eyes. “Entschuldigen Sie for not knowing all your perverse guide-dog-play rules,” he muttered. A moment later he felt a nip at the back of his neck.

“Ow!”

“Bad dog,” Mr. Armando warned, “growling at Master.”

For the second time, Klavier tried to rebel. “Verflucht, I’m not a dog! And you can’t do that to me!”

“What, this?” Mr. Armando asked as they reached the other side of the street. He nipped Klavier’s neck again with his fingers.

“Ow! Yes!” Klavier snapped. “That’s assault!”

“Ha!” Mr. Armando retorted. “I’m not even leaving a mark.”

“This whole thing is degrading!” Klavier protested. “It’s–it’s defamation of character!”

Mr. Armando just smirked. “Everything I’ve done so far is within the constraints of the release form you signed, Prosecutor Gavin,” he replied. “You did read it, didn’t you?”

Klavier swallowed. He couldn’t remember.

“Fortunately I had to sign a similar form before taking part in the auction,” Mr. Armando replied. “Unless I put your health or life at risk, or try to force you to participate in sexual activity without your consent, you must obey my every instruction.”

Ach, yes, that did sound familiar. At the time, he’d imagined being owned by a woman, not a man – especially not a man who treated him like this. He also hadn’t expected to find being forced to submit like this weirdly arousing.

“Now.” Mr. Armando stepped closer, shortening the leash as he did so. He smelled of coffee and expensive cologne. “Behave and I’ll treat you well. Give me any more of this bullshit–” He gave the leash a sharp tug. “–and there are worse, but perfectly legal, things than playing guide dog.” He raised his voice. “¿Entiende?”

Klavier nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mr Armando lengthened the leash again, and pointed to the end of the street. “That way.”

Klavier didn’t enjoy caving to threats, but he liked the idea of having his neck jerked back and forth for the day even less. He led his ‘master’ down the street, wondering if he could sue him for whiplash when this was over.

As they approached the coffee shop, Klavier’s eyes widened in horror. Sitting on the pavement a few feet ahead of the outdoor tables was Phoenix Wright, looking even shabbier than usual, holding a cardboard cup. Standing beside him, looking extremely miserable, was Herr Forehead himself. He was still wearing the too-small, artfully shredded red T-shirt and silly matching shorts he’d worn at the bachelor auction, but it looked like someone had dumped a cup of coffee over him in the meantime. Klavier looked at the pavement and began to walk faster, hoping to pass them both quickly.

His master stopped, tugging backwards on Klavier’s leash. Klavier cringed as he halted in place.

“Wright?”

Klavier shut his eyes. Of course.

“Hey, Armando!” Phoenix gazed up at the older man with a wide smile and shook his hand. “Maya told me you were up for parole. How are you?”

“Heh,” Mr. Armando replied. “Compassionate release, not parole, Wright. The state just doesn’t want me dying on their watch.” He tugged Klavier’s leash. “Heel!”

Sullenly, Klavier shuffled up beside him.

“Do you like my new guide dog?” Mr. Armando asked. “His name is Goldilocks.”

Phoenix looked at Klavier and snickered.

“Permission to laugh, sir!” Apollo requested.

“Denied.” Phoenix looked up at Mr. Armando and nodded slightly. “You look well.”

“Wish I could say the same about you, Wright,” Mr. Armando said with a smirk. “I’d heard about your…trouble, but I didn’t think things were this bad.”

Phoenix smirked back.

“Well, according to some,” his eyes slid over to Apollo, who shifted uncomfortably, “since being disbarred, I’ve become a filthy hobo. So I’m teaching my slave here all my hobo ways.” He jingled the coins in his cup. “Spare some change?”

Mr. Armando gave him a long look.

“Indulge me, Diego,” Phoenix said conspiratorially. “Spare some change?”

Mr. Armando smirked. “All right…Phoenix.” He dug in his trouser pocket and flipped a quarter into Phoenix’s cup.

“Bless you, sir,” the former attorney said, tugging the hem of his woolly hat. “Apollo, what do we do when someone gives us money?”

Apollo flushed a beautiful bright red and began to do a little dance. Mr. Armando cracked up. So did Klavier, until his owner jerked hard on his leash.

“Doggies don’t laugh,” Mr. Armando warned. This set Phoenix off. He wiped his eyes and shook the coins in his cup, counting them silently.

“Okay, let’s take a break.” He got up from the sidewalk, dusted himself down, and handed the cup to Apollo. “Go inside and get me a grape juice.”

Apollo nodded. Mr. Armando gave him Klavier’s leash.

“Take Goldilocks with you,” he instructed. He handed a folded up bill to Klavier. “Get me a coffee. Black, no sugar.” He gestured to one of the nearby tables. “Wright, join me?”

“Sure,” Phoenix replied. He turned to Apollo. “You have permission to speak while you’re inside.”

Klavier sulkily followed Apollo inside the coffee shop.

“So how has your day been?” Apollo asked gloomily.

“I’ve been playing guide dog for this old bastard,” Klavier grumbled, “dragging him all over the place and having my head almost yanked off my shoulders whenever I don’t magically read his mind. He’s getting off on it.” He dropped his voice. “One hand holding me, the other in his pocket, ja?”

“I’ve been dancing all afternoon,” Apollo whispered back. “And it’s not funny, the police have moved us on a zillion times. We’re going to get a citation for begging, or arrested for vagrancy. What, does he think Trucy can bail us out with her piggy bank?” He reached the top of the queue. “One grape juice, please.” He dug around in the cup, trying to gather enough change to pay for it. “He scraped seventeen bucks together to buy me, and they’re about to cut our phone off!”

“Coffee, black, no sugar,” Klavier said, next in line. “Seventeen dollars? My guy paid two hundred for me.”

Apollo gave him a sidelong glance that left Klavier feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Really?”

Klavier gulped nervously as they went back outside with the drinks.

Their “masters” were sitting at the outside table closest to the door.

“Well, it pays the bills, Wright,” Mr. Armando was saying. “You should try it.”

Apollo set Phoenix’s grape juice next to him and stepped back.

“Thank you,” Phoenix acknowledged. He gestured to the spot where he’d been sitting earlier. “Continue.”

With a barely audible sigh, Apollo handed Klavier’s leash back to Mr. Armando and went back up the street.

Klavier placed the coffee next to his master along with his change. Mr. Armando counted it carefully, then gently pulled Klavier closer and took a sip of coffee.

“Good boy,” he remarked. “Sit.”

Klavier put a hand on the back of a chair and felt his leash tense ever so slightly.

“Chairs are not for dogs.”

Klavier slowly balled his hands into fists and sat on the cleanest patch of pavement he could find. The concrete chilled him through his briefs. He heard Phoenix snickering above him.

“Hey, if you ever feel like practising law again,” Phoenix said, “I got a spot for a senior attorney open.”

Mr. Armando chuckled. “I think at this point, practising law again would be tempting fate. Don’t you?”

Klavier hissed in disbelief. What was this, a convention for sadistic ex-lawyers? He flinched when he felt a large hand descend on his head, then relaxed when all Mr. Armando did was caress his hair. It felt nice. Inevitably his mind made an association with other times people played with his hair; women always liked to touch and stroke it after sex. He looked up at Mr. Armando, and was reminded again what a good-looking man he was. Obviously kept up with his laundry and showered regularly, too. He remembered how Mr. Armando had spelled out exactly what he could and couldn’t force Klavier to do, and felt his uneasiness about the gap between his price and Apollo’s price start to fade. Herr Forehead was just an inferior specimen. Klavier gazed up the street and watched Apollo dancing for some old ladies.

“He’s a good kid, really,” Phoenix remarked. “I’m gonna let him have the evening off.”

Mr. Armando smirked. “I intend to get my money’s worth out of this one.” He continued to pet Klavier, who was feeling less and less averse to the thought of doing something a little more…intimate for his new master than simply playing guide dog.

“Hey, can I pet him?” Phoenix joked.

Klavier couldn’t hold back a growl of indignation. He braced himself for a tug on his leash, and was surprised when Mr. Armando just laughed.

“Sorry, Wright,” he said. “It sounds like he’s a one-man dog.”

“Too bad,” Phoenix replied. He finished his grape juice. “Well, back to the grind.” He stood up and put a hand on Mr. Armando’s shoulder. “Hey. Stay in touch, okay?”

Klavier watched as Phoenix walked away and took a seat on the ground next to Apollo, who was leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He heard Mr. Armando chug the rest of his coffee.

“Come on, boy.”

Klavier began to get up, but it wasn’t fast enough and he cursed softly as Mr. Armando yanked on his leash. For that he got another nip on the neck. He bit back his objections and hopped on the spot, trying to get the feeling back in his buttocks.

“22 Hospital Road.”

Klavier looked at his owner. “Do you know where that is?” Mr. Armando asked.

“Yes,” Klavier replied.

“Then lead on,” Mr. Armando replied with a smirk. He tugged gently on the leash. “Don’t forget to bark.”

Klavier took a moment to quickly plan the route, then turned and began to walk down the street, away from Phoenix and Apollo. Once again he felt the stares of passers-by. He stole a quick glance back at Mr. Armando. The older man didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the funny looks they were getting. In fact he seemed to be enjoying the whole thing immensely. Klavier faced forward again. What was this guy’s deal?? He behaved like an asshole to him one minute, then fondled him the next. Klavier wished he would pick either humiliation or sex. The unpredictable combination had his head spinning…and was making him feel funny in his pants.

They reached a crosswalk and Klavier remembered Mr. Armando’s earlier instructions.

“Rau!”

Mr. Armando stopped beside him and nodded approvingly. As they waited for the sign to change, Klavier felt him run a hand down his back. He was puzzled and a little disappointed when Mr. Armando stopped at his waist. Then he remembered – the contract.

“You can go lower if you like,” Klavier whispered, trying not to ruin the illusion of complete control. He hissed as Mr. Armando pulled hard on his leash.

“Presumptuous little fucker, aren’t you?” he snarled in Klavier’s ear.

Klavier bit back a retort as the strange mix of anger and arousal coursed through him yet again. Then he felt Mr. Armando’s hand wander down till it was resting on his right buttock. Klavier suppressed a little shiver as Mr. Armando began to squeeze and relax his fingers. The fact that there was a thin layer of white cotton between Klavier’s ass and his owner’s hand made it somehow more erotic than skin-to-skin contact. Klavier struggled to focus on the sign as Mr. Armando switched from squeezing to gentle rubbing. By the time he barked for them to cross the road, Klavier was feeling very hard.

He just managed not to moan in disappointment when Mr. Armando dropped his hand halfway across the street. He tried to linger beside him when they reached the kerb and Mr. Armando shoved him forward.

“Walk ahead of me,” he snapped. Klavier winced as the rough treatment somehow turned him on even more, and did his best to think about something else – his erection made it difficult to walk. Fortunately, the fact that people were staring at them again helped to cool him down a little.

They reached 22 Hospital Road without any further yanking or groping, and Klavier didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He halted outside the building, an old-style three-storey townhouse that had seen better days, and had been converted to apartments some years earlier. Mr. Armando took the lead, bringing Klavier up the narrow driveway that led to the parking bay at the back of the house. He stopped beside a dusty silver car, parked in the space marked “A”, and gently tugged Klavier’s leash until he stood beside him.

“Not bad,” Mr. Armando remarked with a smirk. “Not bad at all.” He gestured to the vest as he unclipped Klavier’s leash. “You can take that off now.”

Klavier smiled as he slipped the vest off. “So, master,” he remarked, “I’ve been a good doggie, ja?”

“Heh.” Mr. Armando scratched his beard. “Adequate, I guess.”

Klavier glanced at his owner’s black slacks, noticing a slight difference in the way they hung that hinted at a semi-erection, and sidled a little closer.

“Is there something else I can do for you?” he asked.

Mr. Armando smiled. “Wait there.” He went into the house, leaving the front door open. Klavier leaned against the car while he waited; the metal was still warm from the afternoon sun. It wasn’t long before Mr. Armando returned.

With a hose.

Klavier gulped and straightened immediately, instinctively clenching his buttocks. A second later he noticed the bucket in Mr. Armando’s other hand. A wet, soapy sponge hit Klavier’s naked chest.

“Wash my car.”