The appeal of the enslavement scenario is the often the humiliating role reversal for a wealthy, aristocratic woman to submit to a common laborer as a slave. How much more humiliating is it to submit to a slobbering dog with the intelligence of a 2-year-old, who you once might have had gelded, but now has absolute authority over you?
“Father, may I speak with you for a moment?”, Elizabeth said, peeking her head around the corner as she knocked on the ornate door of her father’s study.
“Of course,” Lord Kensington said, smiling as he continued to review the business section of his newspaper. “How may I assist you, my dear?”
Elizabeth entered, wearing her sports bra and the pink volleyball shorts she worked out in, the ones that always called the male servants’ eyes (and pants) to bulge. Lord Kensington had wondered how he might delicately suggest that his daughter shave herself before the fox hunt, but looking at her in her skin tight pants he realized that the razor had already done its work.
Elizabeth stood before her father’s massive study desk. Her father had been quite cross with her, ever since that silliness at the church. Even though she was 23, standing in front of his desk she felt a bit like girl called into the Headmaster’s office.
“Father, I wanted to talk to you about this fox hunt business. I overheard the maids chattering about it, and the stable boys. It’s all they talk about, it seems, although all conversation stops as soon as I enter the room. Am I to understand that I am going to be entirely naked for the run?”
“Not at all, my dear”, he said, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. “A misunderstanding. Let me put your mind at ease. Anything else, my dear?”
“So what am I to wear, father?”
“Well, a fox head, of course, bolted to your collar. I even have a tag for your collar, with your childhood name, Rascal. It’s shaped like a little fox. It’s quite adorable.”
Elizabeth smiled at the mention of “Rascal.” Father hadn’t called her that since they had their falling out.
Lord Kensington continued. “Your fox mask will conceal your identity well enough. Which is good, as so many people you know will be there. Your brother is inviting a number of his friends.”
“Is he now?” Elizabeth. “Just like Dereck! What a dreadful boy. Well, with the fox head on me, I suppose no will know. That’s the only reason I agreed to this, father.”
“Mr. Murdow will be there, Elizabeth, and his son, Freddy. I thought you should know, so you wouldn’t be too surprised, when you see them on their horses, hunting you down.”
“Freddy? Are you serious? Why on earth did you invite him?”
“Your little stunt at the church is the reason we are having this event. After you decided the marriage I had painstakingly arranged for you wasn’t good enough, and you left poor Freddy quite literally standing at the altar, Mr. Murdow decided to cut his financial ties with me, which caused the bank to call my loan.”
Lord Kensington’s voice turned stern as he looked on his daughter with cool disregard. “I nearly lost everything, Elizabeth. Our entire family fortune, gone in a flash, because of your misbehavior. We were very nearly ruined. I realized your mother, God rest her, was right, and I was far too indulgent wit you. Thank goodness, Dereck hadn’t suggested this hunt, as a way to settle the score. Fortunately, Mr. Murdow agreed, and our business deal will be signed after the hunt is complete on Saturday.”
“You mean they’ll know it is me? Fat Freddy and that creepy, groping Mr. Murdow will know that it will be, running naked with a fox’s head bolted to my neck?”
“Which of my guests, and which of your brother’s friends, will know it is you is not your concern, my dear. You are the entertainment, and nothing more. And for the final time, you won’t be naked, dear. You’ll have your collar, tag, and mask, and, of course, the tail.”
“Oh, yes, the tail. About that… do I have a belt, to hold on the tail?” Elizabeth asked, confused. “Should I try it on?”
“No, that’s hardly necessary,” her father responded pleasantly. “We’ll MAKE it fit. We use an inflatable bulb, that we can pump up. It keeps the tail from slipping out.”
Elizabeth didn’t understand. Slipping out of what? But deciding she had more pressing questions, she changed tact.
“Am I to wear nothing else, other than the tail, and that ridiculous mask, screwed onto my head? I heard two of the maids giggling, and saying that the girls can barely see with it on, and can’t even properly turn their heads. And how am I supposed to run without proper shoes? A lot of my strategy involves running through the spiny pigweed and bull thistles and spiky weeds and bristles, so the dogs will find it hard to follow, and they’ll lose my scent. I can’t do that barefoot!”
“That’s not very sporty of you. I’m sure if you try any stunts like that, the dogs will make you pay for it in the end. Yes, my dear, you will be barefoot, and I’ll remind you that leaving a blood trail is like smearing dog food on yourself, and ringing the dinner bell. The pack will pick it up straight away, and run you down like a train. Better to keep to the open fields.”
“Where they can pick up my scent? Besides, it’s supposed to be 40 degrees on Saturday,” Elizabeth protested, with 20 mile per hour winds!”
“Not to worry, Elizabeth. The entire party will have their plaid jackets on, and earmuffs, and hats. We’ll be quite snug, all bundled up. No worries, my dear.”
“I meant ME, father,” she whined. “I planned to confuse those idiot dogs by running through the stream. How am I supposed to run naked through the freezing cold water, with a 15 degree wind chill?”
“Yes, I imagine the elements might challenge your strategy somewhat,” Lord Kensington chuckled, “but that’s part of the fun of it, isn’t it? I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Will there be anything else, Elizabeth?”
“It’s going to be even colder at night,” Elizabeth complained. “I don’t understand why I have to spend the night before the hunt naked in the kennels, with Trixie and Bonnie and the breeders.”
At this, her father actually wagged his finger at his daughter’s silliness. “On that point, there can be no compromise, my dear. You’ll be warm enough, if you snuggle up closely with the other bitches, and let their fur warm you. But no showering in the morning. It’s out of the kennels, and straight into the hunt!” he said with a chuckle.
“But why?” Elizabeth said.
“The dogs identify their targets by scent. If they thought you were a fox, they would treat you quite badly, indeed. As the pack will involve be entirely Great Danes, I’m afraid you might be quite seriously injured. But if you pick up the scent of the other dogs, they’ll simply few you as another dog, and integrate you in the pack. No harm will come to you, assuming you submit.”
“What do you mean, submit?” Elizabeth said, confused. “I’m the one with the brain, shouldn’t they be obeying my commands?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, my dear. The mask has a sort of bridle in it, that keeps your mouth open, so you won’t be doing much in the way of actual talking,” her father explained. “As for who has the bigger brain, I’m afraid the time you spent at Eaton is going to mean much to these fine, husky fellows. Remember, while they may lack your formal education, they are highly intelligence creatures, with a strong sense of their place in the pack. I suggest you treat them with respect.”
“Respect? For a dog? Hardly! I would think it would be their place to respect me.”
“I’m afraid they won’t see it that way, my dear. They will see you as a female dog, so they’ll be in charge, not you. Each of the “idot dogs”, as you put it, will make it their mission to teach you the proper respect for their authority over you. “The alpha dog is Hercules, and under him are his lieutenants, Goliath and Wolverine. You’ll need to deal with them, first. The others will take turns, based on their relative ranks in the pack, until you’ve gone through the whole dozen.”
"Will Stallion be one of the dogs hunting me?" Elizabeth said.
"Yes, of course. He's one of our finest hunting dogs. Is there a problem?"
"Well, I raised him, and I always thought of him as my most particular friend. It's hard to imagine him hunting me. Remember when I used to ride him around, when I was little? That's why i named him Stallion, do you remember?"
"You chose a most appropriate name. He's one of our finest breeders. Runs like the wind. And he certainly knows your scent."
"Yes, he still likes to lay next to me at night, with that dreamy look in his eye, whenever I'm drawing. I wonder what he's thinking about?"
"Perhaps on Saturday, you'll find out," her father said, smiling.
"I'm a bit confused, father. You mentioned a dozen dogs. Even counting Stallion, we only have six Great Danes,” Elizabeth said, confused.
“Quite right, but some of Derick’s friends and our other guests are going to be bringing their dogs. Dereck’s friend Roger is bringing his Blue Great Dane, King Dong. His friend William is bringing his Harlequin Dane, Thunder. The Bishop is going to be bringing his Fawn Dane, Goliath. Mr. Bristol is bringing Jackhammer, and Mr. Parker is bringing his prize-winning Black Dane stud, Joystick. Finally, Mr. Leeds is bringing his best breeder, Porker.”
“Why so many dogs?” Elizabeth said. “I would think six would be enough.”
“For the hunt, yes, six would be more than sufficient,” her father allowed. “As for when they catch you, my dear, the more the merrier. Speaking of which, I imagine with a dozen of them, Hercules and a few of the others might be ready for seconds before it’s all said and done. You might consider using your…um… oral skills, if you don’t wish to be there all day.”
“Seconds of what? You said that with the dreadful mask on, I won’t be able to talk,” Elizabeth said, confused. “Whatever would I say to them? Oh, father, what should I do?”
“Don’t worry your little head about it, my little Rascal,” rising to wiggle the end of his confused daughter’s nose. “The dogs will be in charge, and I’m certain they’ll make it entirely clear what they want.”
