by Nob

Story code: F/m, BDSM, nc

Lady Veronique raised her arm and threw a good-sized stick, maybe a foot long and an inch in diameter, about thirty feet away into a tangle of small trees and bushes. “Fetch, Charlie!” she sang out gaily, and of course I had to reply. My “Arf, Arf!” was supposedly an expression of enthusiasm for the task assigned me, but I hated this kind of charade and made it sound as growly as I could. I was kneeling beside her chaise longue in the back garden of her mansion on the small island that she owned in the Caribbean and undergoing yet another day of torment and humiliation.

Let me explain. I had been Lady V’s prisoner--slave, really--for more than a year after my attempt to steal her Rolls Royce ended in my being captured by three of her heaviest and strongest female servants. Knocked unconscious during the struggle, I awoke to find myself gagged, blindfolded, and bound hand and foot in the car’s trunk. I was being taken somewhere, and I didn’t like the idea at all. But the women who had tied me knew their work well. There was no way I could escape those thick ropes. When the car finally came to a stop, I could guess from the sounds outside the car that we were at an airport.

Soon the trunk was opened and rough hands seized me and hauled me out of my makeshift prison. I could not see the place at all, nor could I protest, so there was no way I could resist being dragged quite a distance and then hoisted into what must have been a small plane. I was made to sit on the floor and then fastened there with coarse leather straps to a seat. Not only was I a captive, but would be taken God only knows where. Obviously, the police were not involved. The car’s owner must have had other plans in mind.

As soon as the engines started, I knew I was in a private jet, not just a simple Piper Cub or anything like that. Whoever was in charge of this kidnapping had plenty of money, that was for sure. I tried to relax, but the uncertainty about where I was being taken, and why, kept me tense and anxious during the entire trip. We must have been in the air more than five hours when at last we landed, and I knew we must be very, very far from Long Island. Again, strong hands loosed my straps and virtually carried me out of the plane to a building of some sort. There I was simply dumped on the floor and left to await my unknown fate.

To make a long story short, I was given a hypodermic shot that sent me into a complete daze. While I could not resist what was being done to me, I was untied and stripped completely naked. The guards just cut my clothes off. Cuffs were locked about my wrists and ankles, followed by a short chain linking my ankles and another that secured my hands behind me. A sharp pain in my nose almost brought me back to full consciousness but the daze came back as I felt a ring being fixed through the hole that had just been punched through my septum. Some sort of balm halted the bleeding almost immediately. Further, the gag and blindfold were replaced by a snug leather helmet that sealed my eyes shut with soft pads and held a metal device that poked in between my lips and pressed my tongue to the floor of my mouth, gagging me even more thoroughly. Talk about helpless!

Then I found myself seated on a chair with more straps to hold me there. As the drug’s effects wore off, I was able to understand what my captors were saying.

“Look at that cock,” a deep feminine voice said. “Mistress is going to have a lot of fun with this poor guy.” Another voice added, “He’s going to be really, really sorry that he tried to steal Mistress’s car. I hope we’ll have a chance to see how she treats him.” And a third voice chuckled, “You can bet she’ll treat him like a real dog. She will get a lot of amusement out of keeping him on hands and knees and making him eat dog food. I’ve seen her do that with other male slaves, and it can be hilarious!”

I shook my head in dismay. And then I jerked as a hand seized my dick and pulled it up away from my crotch. “Yes,” one of the women said, “this one is a lot bigger and longer than we usually see. Jesus, Lady V will just love this new slave! If I weren‘t a Lez, I might want to try it out sometime myself.” I was lucky that the guards didn’t do anything more with my organ, for they could have done some serious damage.

Well, that’s how it started. By now, after some brutal training on this isolated Caribbean island and learning to tolerate the leash fastened to a ring locked tightly about my cock, just below its head, or else to my nose-ring, I have actually become the dog that my captors had predicted. Lady V has named me “Charlie,” which is not my real name, but I have learned to respond to it because punishment awaits if I ignore it. I am Lady V’s pet, kept in stern, disabling bondage, and must obey her every order without fail. When she snaps a leash to my nose-ring, I am in even more trouble. A jerk on it really hurts!

Today, for instance, my legs are doubled inside tight-laced, padded sheaths so that I must move about on my knees. My hands are crammed inside thick rubber balls with tight-laced cuffs for my wrists, and inside them I am forced to hold the ends of a two-foot steel rod that connects the balls through their centers so they have become my front “paws.” My cock-leash trails behind me between my thighs, next to the “tin cup” --really, thank God, a steel cup--that contains my testicles in its padded embrace and prevents them from the awful pain that would result from any sort of blow. Lady V knows very well that they must be protected, for if they are hurt, it may be quite a while before I can obey her commands again. It is held in place by straps fixed to the steel belt that cinches my waist in to an uncomfortable circumference--two up the belt in front and one snugly up between my ass-cheeks to the back. I am grateful for the protection, but surely would rather not need it at all.

Ungagged, I am thus able to speak in dog-language whenever necessary, knowing that Lady V’s quirt is ready to emphasize her rule that I must never speak in any other language. By now, I have almost forgotten how to speak English!

“Fetch, Charlie, damnit!” she said again, and after my “Arf-arf” of understanding, I started off to fetch the stick she had thrown. With my arms and legs secured as they were, I could only bunny-hop toward the place where the stick had landed. This meant stretching my imprisoned hands out in front of me and then bringing my knees forward with a kind of “hop” that would place my knees directly behind my hands. Repeating this maneuver several times, I reached the place where I thought the stick had landed.

Nosing about in the tangle of shrubs, I finally located the damn stick. With no other choice, I had to lean down, grab the center of the thing between my teeth, and head back toward my owner. The bark hurt my lips and tongue, but that was hardly as bad as my punishment would be if I failed to return the stick. Being treated as a dog, as ”Charlie,” was humiliating enough, although I definitely preferred it to being beaten with her stinging lash.

When I finally got back to where my Mistress was seated, I offered her the stick by raising my head and holding it up for her to take it.

“Don’t you want this stick?” she asked spitefully, jerking it back and forth but not taking it from between my teeth. My response had to be a growl and an attempt to pull the thing away from her. The result was her jerking harder at the stick until I had to let go of it. “Bad dog!” she said. “I’m going to have to teach you some manners. Here, give me your leash.”

I had no choice. I worked my way backwards until my leash lay on the ground in front of me and then leaned down to grip it between my teeth. Reluctantly offering it to her, I sighed at the prospect of what she might do with it. Sure enough, she took it and pulled slowly at it until I had to rise up on my knees and suffer the erotic pain of its tension. My body could not resist the stimulus and so my manhood naturally stiffened in response. Lady V leaned forward to see what had occurred.

“Why, Charlie,” she teased, “you’ve gotten hard down there even though I’ve told you not to. You’re being a really bad dog, and you deserve some real discipline.” She jerked at my leash again, adding to my arousal, which could only lead to additional punishment. “Perhaps an iron ball will help you learn to obey me’’ She waved to one of her servants, who brought a heavy metal ball and attached it behind me to my leash. “Now, let’s see you go and fetch this stick!”

She threw the stick again, this time even farther, and again commanded, “Fetch, Charlie!”

Now, hampered as I had been before but with the additional torment of having to pull the extra weight attached to my dick, I “Arf-arf’d” again and began to hump my way toward where the stick had landed. With the heavy weight pulling my cock-leash back between my legs, it was a painful job even to move forward at all. I tried my usual bunny-hop, only to find that the ball pulled my cock back between my thighs with painful results. The stinging “zap” of her quirt on my backside encouraged extra effort, though, and I did my best to move clumsily to where the stick had landed. Every move was agony! But there was no way I could fail to obey this sadistic Mistress, so I kept trying to get to the stick.

Finally, shuddering and grunting with pain, I reached the place where the stick had landed. But it was hard to locate, and I spent some time searching among the shrubs for it. “C’mon, Charlie, bring me the stick!” she shouted impatiently. I moved clumsily among the shrubs until at last I found the thing. This time it was wedged in between two bushes and I had to wrestle it free--using only my teeth, of course.

Returning it to her, hampered not only by my bondage but by the heavy ball fastened to my cock, I finally managed to reach her and hold up her stick. She wrenched from my jaws and sat back with satisfaction. “That’s a good dog, Charlie, and I expect to keep you as my favorite canine after you have learned that you are really nothing but a dog. Tomorrow, we will teach you just how a dog should behave. But a sample of how we discipline our pet must come first.”

Filled with unpleasant fears about the discipline I had been promised, Lady V led me, still seriously encumbered, toward the small dog-house in which I was to spend the night. The island was clearly in a tropical climate, for it was warm enough so that I didn’t need a blanket. Still, the “house” was small enough so after being forced inside, I had to assume a fetal position in order to lie down, and I didn’t appreciate having my leash secured to a ring at the top of the door to my unwelcome residence.

The next day, I learned what she meant about discipline. With my legs still doubled in their sheaths but no longer spread apart by the hamper bar, and my arms similarly doubled within forearm sheaths, I was left on knees and elbows in a room which I had learned was devoted to discipline. One of her brutal guards locked a hamperbar once more between cuffs about my knees so that they were forced two feet apart, leaving my crotch open to any assault. There was no way I could avoid what was done to me next.

Two of the female guards then lifted and laid me face-up on a table with straps over my waist just above my thighs to hold me quiet. After that, my head was secured a snug leather helmet which was pulled down over my head to keep me blindfolded and gagged. Also, my sheath-doubled arms were spread out in line with my shoulders and fixed in that position with additional straps. Then I could feel a metal tube, perhaps aluminum with its two halves hinged, being clamped over my dick and locked. It was lined with short bristles that were sure to keep me aroused but certainly not at all able to bring me to orgasm. There was apparently a ring at the tip of the tube, a way to fasten a leash to it, for I felt it being handled and then a jerk at it which told me I was correct. What would these cruel bitches do to me next?

I could feel something being attached to the tube, and then the gadget began to vibrate. The sensation was inescapable but stimulating. I twisted my body as much as I could, hoping to relieve the tantalizing torment, but the quick stiffening of my cock could not be ignored. Its increased size made the bristles even more exciting, and I had to moan with frustrated arousal. But it was impossible to reach climax, no matter how much I wanted it. Being held so near the verge of release, I bit down on my gag in an agony of baffled desire. My moans grew louder, but still I could hear my tormentors giggling at my erotic misery. They jerked my imprisoned dick back and forth, adding further to my rampant need, and then began to use their fingernails to softly scratch at my bare chest. After just a few moments of this incitement, my mind seemed to retreat from reality. This was my one way to avoid going mad. A strange calmness came over me and I ceased my moaning. I also stopped struggling against my bonds, which somehow persuaded my torturers to refrain from further arousing me.

My breathing continued to be deep and quick, though, so it was obvious that I was still undergoing the frustration that had been intended. I could hear the guards leave the room, leaving me to deal with my aching groin the best I could. After a few more minutes, the vibrator stopped and I was given some respite from the ordeal. My breathing slowed and I could feel my erection begin to fade. Perhaps this was enough for today.

No, it was not -- not by any means! I was left alone for quite a while, getting used to my widespread doubled legs and arms and wondering what new torments I would face later on. Before long, I could hear the door open. It was Lady V’s voice that I heard next.

“Okay, big boy, you’ve gotten a taste of what’s in store for you if you get rebellious and forget that you’re nothing but a dog. My assistants love getting you all hot and bothered, and you’re in for more of the same whenever I think you need it.”

She reached down and unfastened my discipline helmet. Once I got used to the light and had licked my lips to ease their dryness, I looked up at my captor. She was dressed in a tight-fitting outfit of glossy latex that outlined her feminine curves quite nicely. God, what a body! She had the fullest, firmest breasts I had seen for a long time, and her narrow waist and gracefully curved hips only added to her appeal. But to be nothing but her “dog” meant that I would have no chance at all to mount her, much as I would have loved to do. Her beauty would only make my enslavement more difficult to endure.

“Remember,” she told me quickly, “you are not allowed to speak in anything but dog-language any more. If I hear any English from you at all, you will certainly regret it. Today’s experience was only one of the ways I have to teach you that you are nothing but a dog. You will find that my assistants have many more ways to punish you whenever it is necessary.”

She paused and then said, “Talk to me, Charlie.” I frowned for a moment and then gave her an enthusiast “Arf-arf” as I expected she wanted. “That’s the way, doggie,” she commented. “Just be sure that you don’t try to speak in any other language. You’ve had an example of how you can be punished, but there are lots more that you may discover when I’m dissatisfied with you. Do you understand?”

My “Rrruff!” told her that I understood her all too well. “All right,” she said, “today is the first of many, many days when you’ll be treated as my pet. You’ll be on elbows and knees, sternly leashed, and you will accompany me while I stroll about the grounds.” Her whistle summoned her assistants and soon I was on the floor, arms and legs still doubled and with the hamperbar holding my knees well apart. While I waited in this position, a wide collar of thick leather was buckled about my neck. But my leash wasn’t attached directly to it.

Instead, a strap was fastened to the tip of the aluminum tube that encased my dick, and drawn up through a ring set at the front of my collar and through it. I recognized immediately that a jerk at my leash would force my chin up and also pull at my imprisoned dick, with an effect that could not be avoided, although I knew it would be unpleasant. My guttural “Urrgh” told Lady V that I was well aware of how effective her use of my leash would be.

She took the end of the leash, wound it about her wrist, and tugged gently at it. I could feel the threatening tension immediately and gave her a single “Arf” to indicate that I was ready to obey her. And so we went out of the room and towards the door to the garden, with me struggling to keep up with her despite my strict restraints. While I could move my elbows easily, the hamperbar between my knees made it hard to move my legs as rapidly as seemed necessary. I had to swivel my hips back and forth to move my knees forward, my butt twisting in coordination with my knees, and knew that this would be a most humiliating exercise.

But Lady V was intent on our afternoon stroll, and so I had to work very hard to avoid her further use of my leash. “Ah-roow!” I complained, in what I assumed to be dog-language, when she jerked hard on the leash to tell me keep up with her. Her ability to control me was painful enough and I could not help but protest. Her tinkling laughter told me that she was pleased with my response. I was indeed her pet, very sensitive to her use of the leash, and she clearly enjoyed my complaint. I guess not all owners honestly love their pets!

“You’re a dog now, Charlie, and you’ll have to get used to your leash. Pay close attention to my commands, through your leash, and you won’t have so much trouble.” And so I focused my mind on what the leash might tell me and soon had figured out what different jerks at it meant. A single, straight-forward jerk meant to hurry up. A jerk to the left or right told me which way to turn, and a series of jerks meant for me to stop moving. Being her dog might not be too difficult, I thought with resignation, and so kept my mind only on what the leash told me to do.

Out in the garden, I could see a number of slave girls tending to the flowers and plants. So I wasn’t the only slave on this island! All were in some sort of bondage, just enough to make their work difficult, and they were generally nude except for their restraints. The sight would ordinarily have aroused me, but in my present circumstances I could not afford to let my body respond to their sexy beauty. Instead, I had to keep my attention on Lady V’s use of my leash. But it was obvious that she wanted me to get excited, and so led me past a number of them as closely as was possible. My “Rummph” in dog-language told her that I was indeed aroused by what I was seeing, but I managed to avoid an erection and thus frustrated her intent for the moment.

Then we approached one girl whose body I could not ignore. She was equipped with such full, firm breasts that I could not avoid getting an erection. This naturally moved my dick-tube up and told Lady V what was in my mind. Her immediate jerks at my leash told me that she did not approve of this, and I had a hard time (no joke) to get the girl out of my mind. But finally I put her out of my thoughts and became once again Lady V’s dog. More painful jerks at my leash kept me struggling to keep up with my Mistress. As her dog, I had no choice but to obey the leash.

At last we returned to her mansion. My body was drenched with sweat, not just because of the difficulty of moving in my damned restraints but because the sun was so hot. Noticing this, my Mistress led me to a shallow pool and told me to crawl down into it. Of course I obeyed. My bondage made it extremely hard to keep my head above water, but with frantic effort I managed to avoid drowning and was soon clear of the sweat and grime that had coated my body. She used my leash to pull me to a more shallow area, and soon I was as clean as she wished.

“Charlie,” she said to me, “while all those girls are real slaves, you’re not even a slave -- you’re the only pet I have. This means that any disobedience on your part, or any hesitation at all to obey me, will naturally require punishment even more nasty than the ways my girls are punished.” She tugged at my leash, urging me to move along behind her. “Perhaps it will be instructive to have you watch how a naughty slave-girl is punished. Let’s see if there’s any punishment going on now.”

And so I had to struggle mightily to keep up with her as we headed toward a building I had not seen before. “This is the slaves’ discipline chamber,” she explained. “If we’re lucky, there will be some unhappy girl in it now.”

There was a hefty female guard at the door who told Lady V that, yes, there was someone being disciplined right now. She opened the heavy door and I was led inside. The afternoon sunshine coming through the windows made it easy for me to see where we were going, and the tearful grunts and moans I could hear were obviously the victim’s response to her torment.

In a moment, I was led to where I could see the unfortunate girl. She was stretched in a rigorous spreadeagle between two pillars, her wrists and ankles buckled into stout leather cuffs. About her waist was a tight-cinched corselet, and to the front of it was fixed the end of a very long body-strap which was pulled back between her legs and tied to a ring set high on the far wall. It was tight enough to pull her hips back, but her real torment was the result of another guard’s beating on the strap with a great wooden club. Each blow tightened the strap considerably, increasing its tension between her legs and thus making it cut up between her lovelips with agonizing pressure. The blows were not in any sort of rhythm, so the poor girl could not tell just when the next one would fall. The way she twisted her head back and forth and the sounds that escaped her brutally-gagged mouth whenever the club fell were enough to convinced me that she was indeed being punished with real severity.

The girl’s breasts rose and fell with each blow of the club, a sight which I would otherwise have enjoyed immensely. But her genuine pain knocked all sexual excitement out of me and I could only sympathize with her helpless misery. It occurred to me that I might someday be put in the same position, but with the strap being attached to my dick, and I renewed my resolve to obey my owner’s commands with every ounce of energy I possessed. Life as a dog can be bad enough without having to undergo this sort of treatment as well.

I was allowed to observe the girl’s torment for several minutes, long enough to persuade me that Lady V could inflict terrible torments on me as well as on any of her slave girls. It was a lesson I did not want to learn, but I had no alternative. “You see, Charlie,” she told me, “Laurie here had gotten very casual about her work and this cannot be tolerated. You can be sure that she will work with more energy after today’s session.”

My single “Arf” told her that I understood. Another tug at my leash urged me into motion again and I followed with as much speed as I could achieve. Slowly, I was learning to move my widespread knees more efficiently, which made it a bit easier to keep up with her. But she even more unpleasant ideas in mind.

“Whoa, Charlie!” she said sharply. I obeyed, wondering unhappily what she would do with me next. It turned out that she wanted to snap my leash to my nose-ring rather than to the tube holding my dick. When the switch was made, it took only a short tug at my sensitive nose to let me know that a nose-leash, even more than one fastened to my cock, could make me wish to heaven that I had obeyed her more quickly or more correctly. I gave a low, doggish moan and she remarked, “I knew this kind of leash would be more effective, Charlie. I think it’ll give you a lot more incentive to do as I tell you -- instantly! Goodness, training a pet is going to be more trouble than I’d expected. But you’ll learn, little puppy, even if it takes months!” I could only hang my head in submission. No dog-language was needed.

We started off again, going a different direction so that I would not have to see the slave girls at work. Instead, she led me to a wide field of well-mown grass. “This is where we have parades and other activities, Charlie. It won’t be long before you’re involved. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Then she snapped her fingers. “Damn, I forgot! You haven’t had anything to eat or drink so far today, and you must be awfully hungry and thirsty. Let’s go to the mess hall where I can have one of the slaves bring you some dog food and water.” The idea of dog food did not excite me, but the hunger pangs in my stomach convinced me that I could eat anything right now. So again I had to scramble after her, moving as rapidly as I could on elbows and wide-spread knees. In only about ten minutes we reached yet another building I had not seen before. By this time, my nose ached seriously from all the tugs at my leash. Perhaps some food--even dog food!--would make me feel better.

Lady V summoned one of the slave girls assigned to the kitchen and told her what was needed. The girl soon returned with a plate laden with a brownish kind of chunks of something and a deep bowl of water. “Dig in, Charlie,” my owner told me. Never having had to eat directly with my mouth the way real dogs do, I was uncertain how to begin. “Just lean down, puppy, and grab what you can with your lips and teeth. And then you can lap up as much water as you want with your tongue. Go ahead, now.”

I approached the bowl first, spread my elbows apart so I could get my face down to the water, and stuck my tongue out. No, that wasn’t going to work, I discovered. Lapping must be a trick that real animals learn early on, but I clearly didn’t know how it was done. Shaking my head with disgust, I finally just pursed my lips and put them in the water so I could suck some into my mouth. The trick worked fairly well, and before long my thirst was satisfied.

The dog food came next. Eating would require me to grab a mouthful with my teeth and I reluctantly leaned down to take a bite. I got a little bit into my mouth and found its taste quite bland and a little fishy. Well, it was food, sure enough, and I would have to rely on it to sustain my energy. With more attempts I found that I would have to press my face down into the stuff. Hating the sensation, I did as I figured I must. Fortunately I got used to the taste and eventually was able to eat a fair amount of it. More water helped clean my mouth out, obtained through my sucking maneuver. At last, I felt full enough to sit back on my heels and give Lady V a grateful “Arf-arf!”

She looked down at me with a smile. She gestured for the slave girl to wipe off my face and then said, “Good dog, Charlie, good dog! I knew you would figure out how to eat and drink. That’s real progress and I’m proud of you.”

But then she said, “I think a slight change of bondage will be good for you at this point.” She called to the slave girl who was standing by the kitchen door and told her, “Bring me a couple of wrist-cuffs, two eighteen-inch chains, and see if you can find a way to get this hamperbar out from between Charlie’s knees.” The girl bowed and left the room, hobble jangling, anxious to obey Lady V’s commands as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I looked up at Lady V with a questioning “Aarrrgh?” on my lips.

“I’ll want you in a more realistic dog position and I think what I’ve ordered will be just what your mistress wishes. You’ll find out soon enough.”

The prospect of having my doubled legs freed from the hamper-bar was truly welcome, although I did not yet understand what other changes she had in mind. The girl returned soon enough, with an armload of shackles and a heavy brass key that she had found somewhere. Lady V took the key first and told me to lie on my back with my knees in the air. I obeyed promptly, fearing more use of the leash, and hummed softly as she unlocked the shaft from between my knees. Oh, it felt so nice to be able to move my legs independently, even if they were still crushed heel-to-asscheek within their constricting leather sheaths.

Once that operation was completed, I was told to sit on my knees and rise up at much as I could. I did so, and had to hold out my sheath-doubled arms. Lady V removed the sheaths, letting me stretch out my arms for a few moments, and then said, “Now, Charlie, we’re going to put another pair of real paws on you. Just keep your fingers stiff and force them into the slits in the sides of these rubber balls.” Each one was about five inches in diameter, had a cuff to be buckled about each wrist, and also was heavy with thick stuffing. I had a hard time getting my hand inside one, but succeeded at last. Once inside it, there was no way I could straighten our my fingers and so had to ball them into fists, clenching the cotton stuffed inside it. Her next move was to lace the ball’s cuffs cuff snugly around my wrists, making it quite impossible for me to get my hands free. These were harder to endure than the first ones.

When both hands were securely inside their spherical prisons, Lady V locked a broad steel cuff about each wrist, covering the balls’ cuffs, and connected each of the two chains to a ring at the front of my collar. And when the ends of these chains were locked to my wrist cuffs, I was strictly limited to their lengths in terms of moving my hands and arms around. “Get down on your hands and knees, Charlie,” she told me. Once I was in the required position, I found that the wrist-chains to my collar required me to keep my elbows slightly bent so that my shoulders were only as high above the floor as my butt. She had fixed me in a true canine position. True, I would have more freedom of movement now, but not so much as to let me do anything other than obey her orders with more speed. The opportunity to move more quickly, though, meant that I would not suffer so much from the use of my leash. How could I complain about this new arrangement, even though my hands were still just as useless?

“Now that you’re in a dog’s position, let’s see how well you can keep up with me, Charlie. After all, I don’t like to hurt your poor nose any more than is necessary.” The smirk that accompanied her announcement meant that she didn’t really care at all whether the leash hurt my nose or not. Pain or no pain, I would still have no choice but to obey her every command.

She started off at a brisk pace. The additional freedom afforded my arms and legs let me keep up with her pretty well, although it still required plenty of effort. At least she wasn’t jerking at my leash with every step. Once, I tried to raise my head too high, pulling my balled fists up off the ground and making me stumble -- if that’s what it’s called when you’re on all fours and fall forward to land on your chest. A stumble meant a delay, which meant another jerk at my leash, and soon I learned to keep my head down so as not to make that sort of mistake again.

“Faster, Charlie,” she said loudly, and I winced at the pain in my nose. But I did my best to move more rapidly, taking longer steps with my “paws” and my knees, and finally managed to move just as fast as she was moving. There were no more tugs at my leash for a while, but the effort my speed required soon had me gasping for breath, as well as bringing a new sheen of sweat to my body. After maybe twenty or thirty yards of such strenuous exercise, I gave a dog-like moan and simply fell on one side, thoroughly exhausted. Clearly, this did not please her.

Exerting a steady pull on my leash, she said sharply, “C’mon, Charlie, don’t be such a quitter. You’ve got to learn to keep up with your owner, or else suffer the consequences of disobedience.” I gave her a strangled “Arrgh” and slowly got up on my hands and knees again. I believe she really wanted me to deserve some extra discipline. Her next statement proved me correct. “You’re in for some real discipline now, doggie, because I will not have my pet dog ignoring my commands. Come along now, dummy!”

And so I was led, at a slower pace, to the discipline building. I was still panting heavily, even though I knew something worse was in store for me. When we got there, she opened the door and led me inside, calling for one of her guards. Gurda, a huge woman in boots and a smart uniform, came in through another door and looked carefully at me. “This new puppy needs a lesson, Lady?” The answer was obviously “Yes,” and so the beefy, muscular guard took my leash. “Will a swinging whipping be satisfactory, Lady?”

“I guess that will do for now,” came the answer. “And I want this stupid dog to feel some real pain this time. He’s had it all too easy with me.” I shuddered at this, but had to follow the guard to a different room where all sorts of instruments of torture could be seen. There were also four chains hanging from the ceiling, complete with steel cuffs. Oh Lord, I thought, she’s going to hang me in those and then beat the hell out of my poor ass. Unfortunately, I was absolutely right.

The guard made me lie down on my back so I was looking up at the ceiling chains, and began to remove my present restraints. My legs were freed from their doubling sheaths, which gave me some momentary relief, and then my wrists were unlocked from the collar-chains that held them all too close to my collar. She flipped a switch on the wall to make the chains to descend from their places near the ceiling until she could clamp their thick, leather-lined cuffs over my wrists and ankles. Another touch of the switch made the chains draw up toward the ceiling until I was hanging well above the floor with my arms and legs drawn out in a kind of horizontal spreadeagle. My unprotected ass would undoubtedly be the target of her lash. I wished that I had not figured this out ahead of time.

Once I was at the height the guard wanted, the hellish torment commenced -- as I had anticipated. I stiffened in pain as a broad lash of coarse leather snapped across my buttocks. It stung like the very devil, and then continued until I had lost count of the blows and was howling in sheer agony. The whipping continued until I was swinging back and forth in long arcs. I learned that whenever I swung back towards my tormentor, another stinging blow awaited me. There was of course no way I could stop swinging, and so could only anticipate with much misery when the next blow would land. If there were any other sort of discipline available, I certainly would have preferred it to what I was undergoing now. But Lady V was clearly enjoying my punishment, for I could hear her amused chuckles over my own sounds of agony.

The whipping went on for some time, leaving my throat so sore that I could hardly yelp my pain with the same urgency that I had started with. The ordeal was so severe that I lost all sense of humiliation and simply twitched in pain as it continued. Finally, Lady V said with a sigh, “That’s fifty, Gerda, and I suppose that’s enough. Let him hang there for several minutes until he recovers, and then put him back into his original restraints.”

And so I was left there, my wrists and ankles aching with the pain of the cuffs that held me aloft, until my gasping moans had subsided to an occasional whimper. After perhaps fifteen minutes of this secondary torture, the guard Gurda returned and used the switch to lower me to the floor. Wow, the pressure on my ass was painful! Eventually, though, I was freed from the cuffs that had pulled me up off the floor and my original bondage was fastened on me again. Short chains from wrists to collar, doubling sheaths over my legs, and the leash snapped again to my nose-ring. No matter what my owner wanted of me now, I was not sure I could obey her. My body was just too exhausted. Fortunately, the day was nearly over and my owner had other things to see to, so I was left alone until evening, when a guard came for me and I was led back to my “house.”

My life was “normal” for the next few days, meaning that I was kept in my dog bondage and had to accompany Lady V on her tours of her grounds, slowly learning how to keep up with her and thus suffering fewer punishments than I had at the beginning.

Then, after she was satisfied with my performance and strict obedience, I learned that there would be relief at the end of the day. For an hour just before dinner, I would be led into a small, high-walled exercise yard and freed from the bonds on my arms and legs so that I could move about freely and get my limbs back into proper shape once more. I guessed that she didn’t want me to lose all use of them. There was of course a long chain from my collar to a post in the center of the yard, but it was long enough to let me stretch as I wished. For several days, I grew quite bitter when my freedom was over and I had to let a guard put me back into my usual restraints, but later on I was so pleased with even this much freedom that a return to my bondage seemed a fair way to “pay” for the luxury I had enjoyed. It was still humiliating to have to eat my dinner dog-style, and I hated the prospect of further torment that would follow if I did something that displeased Lady V, but to my shame, I found that I was becoming accustomed to my role as a pet dog.

My sexual appetites, although never satisfied, remained with me. The sight of all my owner’s lovely, nude slave girls was enough to arouse me at any time, leaving me in a state of mild frustration nearly all the time. At one point, Mistress had me fitted with a special device to discourage such urges. It was a long triangular piece of aluminum that was attached at the front of my belt, wide part at my belly and the narrower part pulled down over my limp cock and pointed back between my legs to be secured to a strap from the back of my belt. I soon discovered that it was equipped with sharp, tiny points on the inside. An erection would force my cock against them as it tried to “stand up,” causing considerable pain and so convincing me that arousal was definitely not a good idea. Lady V and her guards clearly found much satisfaction in watching me battle my own impulses and sometimes brought a particularly attractive slave girl before me to encourage my desires. All they got of course was my moans of misery.

With all this sexual distraction, my cock was constantly sore from its battle against the awful device she had fastened on me. Eventually, though, I was able to ignore the gorgeous slave girls, no matter how much they tried to get me aroused. They would arch their backs, thrust their hips forward, and swing their luscious breasts back and forth in an attempt (ordered by Lady V, of course) to get me excited. Oh, I could dream of mounting one of them -- any of them! -- but whenever I let the dream become too realistic, my aluminum constraint would bring me back to reality: that I was a poor dog whose mistress would not tolerate an erection at all.

Then after a few weeks of boring misery, things changed. Lady V told me that she was tired of my just following her around and wanted me to learn some tricks. Oh boy.

Well, I’d learned to fetch a stick already, but it turned out that she wanted something more spectacular. One skill she wanted me to acquire was the ability to walk on my knees alone, not using my ball-imprisoned hands at all. This meant that I would have to have some support at first, and that turned out to be pretty awful. I was allowed to use my arms for balance as long as they were in doubling-sheaths, but to keep me from falling on my face a more punitive kind of support was employed. Straps from the sides of my belt (corselet, actually), were drawn down between my legs on either side of my masculine equipment, up between my asscheeks, and through a ring at the back of a wide leather collar. It was fastened up to one of the arms of the device that stood in the center of the training circle. When it was put in motion, either by a small electric motor or else by a slavegirl hitched to another arm of the thing, I had to learn to move on my knees alone because I could not use my arms other than for clumsy balance.

This kind of exercise went on for a week or two, and eventually I learned to hobble on my knees alone without needing other support. I would still fall occasionally, and a lash across my back and buns would tell me how terrible it was for me to be so careless. By the third week, I could manage pretty well on my own, making Lady V happy and me at least grateful for less correction by the whip. Then my training turned more bizarre.

The guards would station me in an easy spreadeagle, meaning that I was not hanging by my wrists and that my legs were not stretched painfully apart. But then one or two of the more attractive slavegirls would be brought and ordered to arouse me. On their knees, they would use their talented mouths and fettered hands to tantalize my cock and then wait until I was on the verge of a marvelous climax. But instead of encouraging me to reach it, they would back away and a guard would whack away at my fanny until I howled with pain. This “exercise” would be repeated four or five times a day, and I finally discovered that just the whip at my butt alone would give me an erection.

It finally occurred to me that this was a kind of Pavlovian “conditioned reflex,” one similar to how the Russian psychologist had trained dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell alone after several days of being fed and hearing the bell ring at the same time. The sound of the bell somehow made the dogs think of food and react as though they were being fed. What Lady V wanted was for me to learn the same kind of association, except that for me it would be the whip across my backside and a throbbing erection that connected the whip with the excitement the girls had aroused. I underwent this unwanted procedure until the association was firmly established. Then I would feel the whip and hear Lady V’s command, “Up, Charlie!” And, by God, my cock would stand up on its own accord, whether I really felt like it or not.

After several weeks of such training, I was alerted to some sort of special event. I could hear several jets landing on Lady V’s runway and had to assume that they carried many of her wealthy friends. Although I could not see the passengers, I had no doubt that they were female, committed to keeping others in severe bondage, and that somehow they were here to take part in some sort of party. It would probably include an exhibition of slaves, which did not cheer me. Certainly I would be among those being shown off, for I had been trained for several days in the tricks I had been taught, not only walking on my knees, but also doing somersaults, and then getting an erection through the “association” I had been taught. It would be a humiliating display at least, and perhaps would involve much discipline as well. Damnit, I was absolutely right!

Perhaps fifteen seats were arranged at one side of the garden, facing the open area where I had spent many hours scuffling after my mistress. I was kept away from there for several hours, and then led by my nose-leash on balled hands and padded knees to the area reserved for the other slaves. The short chains from my wrists to my collar were already in place, so it was a bit of a chore to get a good look at the others who would be displayed and otherwise humiliated along with me. There were twelve slavegirls there already, as well as, to my surprise, a pair of young men, all in cleverly designed bondage outfits. We nodded to each other, sympathy being the main sentiment, and then quieted as Lady V’s and the other guests’ guards moved among us with quirts at the ready. There were a few whacks at any of us prisoners who tried to communicate with the others or showed some resistance to what was demanded of us, so we clamped our mouths shut and became as servile as possible.

I must say that I got some pleasure from seeing how my fellow-slaves were restrained, especially since I had not seen any of them before, or how their owners had designed their bondage. One luscious blonde girl was garbed in a stiff corselet and a uniform of skin-tight netting, open enough to show off all her charms but snug enough to shape them into delicious curves. Each wrist was chained close to a cuff about its corresponding biceps, holding each arm doubled, and of course she wore a short hobble between both knees and ankles. Another girl, with long, glossy black hair, had her forearms laced into a long tube behind her with each wrist at the opposite elbow. To add to her restrictions, there was a chain locked from the center of her forearm tube down to her hobble, short enough to pull it up in an inverted Vee. Thus she had to stand with her high-heeled pumps together or else walk in a clumsy crouch. And the end of the Y-leash that hung down from her generous breasts lay on the ground in front of her, a threat of real pain should she step on it by accident.

One of the males, a brawny fellow with long dark hair, was closely hobbled and his feet were laced into a pair of extremely high-heeled boots. His arms were chained together behind, almost elbow-to-elbow with one chain pulled up from his elbows to the back of his collar and another chain that led down between his lower cheeks to be locked to a strap wound firmly about the base of his genitals, both cock and balls. It was obviously quite tight, since he was forced to stand with his torso arched out in front of him like a very healthy pouter pigeon. The leash locked to the front of his collar was gripped closely between his teeth, ready for his Mistress to take it whenever she wanted it.

The other guy, a tall blonde, wore a doubling sheath on each arm and had his elbows stretched out like wings along a single wooden rod with straps holding them in place. Worse for him was the fact that from each end of the rod were taut chains fixed to his cock-ring, making him either bend forward to lessen the tension or else stand tall and have his dick pulled high in front of his belly. He too was hobbled, of course, and would be controlled by a nose-ring leash like that to which I had become accustomed. Like the other male, he held the leash between his teeth for his Mistress’s convenience.

Another girl, this one a comely redhead, wore a stiff leather posture-collar that held her chin high and prevented her from moving her head at all. A bridle buckled snugly about her head held a gag deep between her jaws as well as a pair of blinders to keep her from seeing anything but what lay directly a few feet in front of her, thus keeping her almost helpless even without the rest of her bondage. Her other restraints consisted of a two-foot hamperbar on swivel-clamps fixed between two heavy ankle cuffs, a single-glove behind her that laced her forearms together from elbows down to wrists, and the use of a nasty “splay” -- a thick iron device shaped like a spread-out hand -- between her hands that made them useless by stretching her fingers out stiffly with thongs bound about each opposing pair of fingers with the appropriate “finger” of the splay between them. Like the men, she held the end of her breast-leash between her teeth.

Naturally, I was on hands and knees in my usual canine position, legs doubled and wrists (with my hands in their crushingly snug rubber balls) linked by short chains to my collar to keep my back parallel to the ground. Today, just to make my life more miserable, Lady V had a guard fasten an ivory tongue-clamp deep inside my mouth, complete with an eight-inch crossbar between my teeth that pulled my lips back in a grotesque sort of grin. Naturally, this made it impossible for me to hold my leash in my mouth like many of the others. The device pressed my tongue down to the floor of my mouth, and it was secured to the bridle fastened about my head so that it was held in place quite securely. And from the ends of the crossbar, straps were pulled back to my nose and run through the ring in it, and left to hang down in front of me to serve as my leash. If I ever wanted to please my owner, this would be the day!

The ‘party’ began soon afterward. At first, there had to be a parade of all of the captives in front of their assembled owners. The mistresses, some sixteen of them, including Lady V, were seated in very comfortable chairs around the open area where the events would be held, and we slaves were lined up and forced to march (or stumble, or hop, or crawl like me) slowly in front of them. I was in the middle of the lineup and so had to wait patiently for my turn to join the parade. Lady V’s guard cracked a lash across my back when it was time for me to move forward, and I obeyed with as much agility as I could muster.

Our audience clearly enjoyed the display, each mistress clapping when her own slave passed the group, but not one of us captives responded to the applause. We were miserable enough in our own bondage, and much less happy about what we would be forced to endure later on. The announcement came immediately from Lady V’s chief guard: “Races will be the first event, and the ladies whose slaves are to participate are to take their slaves to the starting gate.” Well, I was grateful that I would not be racing, for my bondage would not allow me any speed at all.

I counted twelve of the slavegirls who would be racing, and wondered at how they were so harshly restrained. Each had some sort of hobble, limiting her to a very clumsy pace. I noted one whose legs were hobbled at her knees as well as her ankles, and another who was fitted with a hamperbar less than a foot long between her ankle cuffs. One high-breasted brunette had short chains fixed between her breast-rings and her ankles, forcing her to stand bent sharply forward at all times. And there was a luscious blonde who was bridled with a peculiar mask that would not allow her to see what was in front of her. She would have to look sideways to see the other girls. Her arms were twisted up behind her in a forearm-X, forcing her full, firm breasts, loaded with small bells, out in front of her in gorgeous display.

It was obvious that some of the girls could move faster than the others, so the results of the race would hardly be in doubt. Still, the struggles of the more seriously hampered would be interesting to watch. None of their owners, naturally, seemed willing to bet on the outcome. As I had guessed, the girl with the least in the way of leg-restraints won handily. Her reward, undeserved as it was, was simply a sugar-cube fed to her by her Mistress. Some of the losers had their bonds tightened as punishment for their failure, even though they could hardly be blamed for losing since their bondage was so stern as to make swift movement of any sort utterly impossible.

There was a lull after the race so that some of the slaves could be put into different types of bondage. What would come next I had no idea, but after every slave had been put into suitable restraints, it was announced that “tricks” would be next. God only knew what sorts of activities these would entail, but I was sure that my trained ability to raise an instant erection would be one of them. But I was not the first to perform. Two of the slavegirls had been twinned, standing side by side with their inner legs strapped firmly against each other’s from crotch down to ankle. Their inner arms were bound together above their elbows, with their forearms chained across their own backs. Their free arms were in doubling sheathes and spread out in wing formation by an iron rod that ran across both girls’ shoulders. Their “trick,” obviously, would be to run as fast as they could around the edges of the garden, even though this was not a terribly innovative kind of assignment. Only faint applause followed their clumsy run.

Next came the two other male slaves, showing that their Mistresses had worked hard to train them in this degrading display. The blonde fellow stood some five feet ahead of the dark-haired guy with a wooden pole locked between their collars. They would have to stay in perfect synchronization if they were not to put painful pressure on their collars. The leader’s wrists were shackled behind him and a heavy chain was fixed from them to the cock-ring about his follower’s organ. The following man was similarly encumbered by a chain from his forward-bound wrists to go between the legs of the one in front of him and be secured to that guy’s cock. The chains were taut, meaning that each would feel pain if the follower lagged too far behind or the lead man got too far ahead of his partner. Each was severely hobbled as well, and wore a “telescope” blindfold that limited his vision much more than simple blinders would. Each man could see only a small portion of the scene directly before him.

They too were directed to encircle the garden, each held by the pole at a strictly enforced distance from the other. They were without gags, no doubt so that the audience could hear their grunts and yowls of distress, and so we onlookers could tell immediately if one or the other had not learned his lessons well enough. Obviously, they had not had enough practice in this arrangement to avoid hurting each other. If the lead man got farther ahead than the pair’s connections would allow, his head was jerked backwards and his cock suffered a real yank. Or if the follower got too close to his leader, his head would be forced back by the pole connecting their collars but he would enjoy brief relief from the tension on the chain to his cock. Apparently there was no way that the follower could be made to suffer both kinds of pain if it was he who made the mistake.

This fact made it advantageous for the follower to keep pushing at the man ahead of him, and it was only after the leader figured this out did he start to pull purposely at his follower’s cock-ring in order to discourage this behavior. By the time they had circled the garden -- twice, at their Mistresses’ command -- they had figured out that the best way to get through this demonstration was to do everything they could to maintain the pole-imposed distance between them. Before they had come to this conclusion, though, their yelps of pain provided a good deal of amusement for their audience.

And then, dear God, it was my turn. Lady V led me by my nose-leash into the center of the garden, right in front of all the Mistresses, and told me in a loud voice, “Now, Charlie, I want that puny little thingus of yours to stand straight up.” I tried to think of some of the more attractive slavegirls and what I would do to them if I could, but nothing happened. A harsh pull on my leash forced me to rise to my knees. She was toying with me, it was clear, for both of us knew that the sharp snap of a whip across my fanny would set my newly-acquired conditioned reflex into motion, producing an immediate erection. But my Mistress was not about to use this technique right away. Instead, she said loudly, “Well, you dumb-ass dog, as long as you’re up on your knees, let’s see you walk back and forth in front of my guests.” A gentler tug at my leash was the signal, and I began cautiously to move atop my knees.

Even though my wrists were connected to my collar, I had more freedom to use my arms for balance than when they had each been laced into a doubling-sheath. And so while my progress was neither rapid nor stylish, I was able to obey my Mistress with some success. Only once did I stumble, falling forward to land on my ball-encased hands, but somehow managed to heave myself up into a “standing” position once more and continue my clumsy parade. After three marches back and forth before the audience, Lady V ordered me to halt in front of her.

“I still want to see that funny little rod of yours come to attention, Charlie. Will a good crack across your butt help you realize that I must be obeyed?” I gave her a small whine of anxiety, and then twisted in pain as her quirt slashed across my asscheeks. I was almost as surprised as my audience when my cock swiftly stood out in front of me in a full-size, throbbing erection. There was genuine applause for this “trick,” and for some reason I felt quite proud of myself.

“Good boy, Charlie,” Lady V told me, “and now that it’s up, let’s see if we can it keep up for a while.” While I stood uneasily on my knees, she reached down and locked a really tight cuff about the base of my dick. It would of course prevent the blood from flowing back into my body and so maintain the erection until it was removed. I was not especially pleased at this, knowing that I was now terribly vulnerable down there, but there was no way to escape the peril. I would remain erect for as long as my Mistress wanted me in that condition. Then she announced to the ladies in our audience, “For his last trick, dog Charlie will try to chase one of my kitten-girls -- if he can catch her. And then,” she laughed spitefully, “we’ll see what he can do with her -- IF he catches her.”

Her guests leaned forward with real interest, and in a moment Kitty, one of Lady V’s most beautiful young slavegirls, full-breasted and with sleek hips, was led out to join us. As well as being heavily gagged, her wrists were shackled tightly together in front of her and her legs were spread apart by a three-foot hamperbar fixed on swivel-clamps between cuffs about her ankles. A slender chain hung in a loop between her breast-rings with her long leash attached to its center and trailing behind her, and otherwise she was excitingly naked. She knelt quickly before her Mistress, abjectly demonstrating her total subordination.

“Kitty,” Lady V told her, “Charlie here will be chasing you just like a dog after a cat, and you must do your best to get away from him. The only condition is that you cannot go more than ten feet away from where our audience is seated, and my guards will see to that. You’ll have thirty seconds to get moving before I let Charlie come after you, so I would suggest that you think now of a way to evade him.” Kitty nodded, looking about the area in which the chase would take place. For my part, I could feel my dick thicken with anticipation, making the cock-cuff squeeze even more tightly. If I could just grab her and find the right position, I could gain the sexual release that had been denied me for so long. My breaths became deeper and more audible, surely telling the audience what was on my mind. I couldn’t care less!

Kitty started at Lady V’s command, and after the 30-second period she had to get started, I was ordered to chase her. It was sex rather than my Mistress’s order that energized me, and I moved as quickly as I could despite my bondage. Kitty had retreated to the far end of the space allowed us, which gave me a great chance to corner her right away. She had made a bad choice, which was fine with me.

It wasn’t long before I had her backed up into a corner, and then it was not difficult to grab her. She shook and twisted her body as much as she could, but my balled hands were able to seize her by the waist and force her face-down to the ground. I leaned down and pulled her breast-leash up from between her thighs with my teeth, further emphasizing her capture, and then worked my way up between her wide-spread legs. She raised and lowered her hips in a vain attempt to discourage me, but with no success. I was determined to get my satisfaction.

Finally, perhaps because she too was sexually frustrated, she ceased struggling and let me crawl my way up between her thighs. My cuff-bound dick was as strong and thick as it had ever been, and as soon as I had shoved its head into her puss, she arched her back in a strange kind of welcome. Her grunts and moans told me that she was more than willing to accept my invasion. I forced my way into her and began pumping more energetically than I had ever done with any other female.

While our audience gasped and then applauded, I kept thrusting away at her delightfully tight pleasure-site until each of us arched in a triumphant display of sexual climax. I maintained my position for several moments after that, finding the after-climax pleasure almost as satisfying as the climax itself, and my hard-breathing partner seemed just as satisfied as I was. It was only when Lady V came and yanked at my leash that we had to part. Our audience clapped their approval, making me proud of my success in spite of the humiliation that accompanied it. Kitty just lay there, breathing hard, and her sexual satisfaction added to my sense of triumph. Lady V was perhaps not as happy as we two slaves were, but she would have to admit that this was what she expected.

To intensify whatever humiliation our public sex-act might have brought on, she ordered Kitty to get to her knees and to clean my now-drooping cock with her mouth. She obeyed, adding a bit extra to my pleasure, and then I was told to perform the same operation on Kitty’s dripping puss. At last, an order I was happy to obey!

Then were led back to the group of slaves awaiting their turns, nodding to let us know their serious appreciation of our work. Those who had some freedom with their hands applauded, and those who didn’t simply bowed their heads -- if they could -- as a token of respect. While the guards were watching the next performances, Kitty crawled over to my side and gave me as big a smile as her gag would allow. I grinned back at her, vowing somehow to get at her ravishing body again as soon as I could find a way.

The “tricks” that followed our were not nearly as exciting, and we slaves watched with some boredom. We watched with only mild interest as two slavegirls were harshly leashed back-to-back by a single crotch-strap and then forced to dance for their audience. They did their best to prance in rhythm with a guard‘s drum, leaning away from each other to get more freedom, but they kept interfering with each other’s steps and so stumbled much more than they should have. Their Mistress’s whip did not improve things.

After all of the so-called “tricks” had been completed, our Mistresses came to our group and selected their own slaves. Using a variety of leashes, some of them quite spiteful, all of us were led to kneel beside our owners’ chairs. I felt lucky that both Kitty and I were Lady V’s slaves, since we would remain here at this estate after the others had been flown back to their own prisons. I might have another chance at her, unless Lady V prevented it -- which I feared she would certainly do.

Prevent it she certainly did! I was put back into my dog-bondage and simply used as a toy for the next few weeks, never getting even a glimpse of my lovely partner-in-sex. I guessed that she had been taken to a distant part of the estate for reasons unknown to me, and my aching loins slowly returned to passive indifference toward the other girls. Well, once in a while I would find an erection coming on when an especially buxom slavegirl was being put through some artful torments where I could see her, but for the most part I just gave up hoping for any more satisfying experiences.

Lady V never seemed to lose her lust for humiliation, and for punishing me whenever she had even the slightest excuse. She would fasten a leash to my cock-ring, locked tight just below its head, and I learned that instant obedience was the only way to avoid a yank at my sensitive manhood. We explored the grounds of her estate thoroughly, incidentally teaching me how to crawl more effectively, while I endured her unending torments.

Some days, for instance, she would leash me by my nose-ring but also fix a two-foot hamperbar between my knees and run a short chain from my cock-ring down to the center of the bar, giving me real pain whenever I let my knees lag behind me. This cruel arrangement forced me to crawl more clumsily than ever, making me grunt with pain through my gag when my body got too far ahead of my knees. When we met a guard, she would point with pride to my her new method of controlling me.

On other days, I would be fitted with a bit, and short chains from my wrist-cuffs to the ends of the bit’s crossbar would make me crawl with my face almost touching the ground. This naturally made me particularly clumsy and left my bare fanny up in the air as an easy target for her lash. She found this especially tempting, so I had to accept the stinging cuts of her quirt without any escape whatsoever.

A particularly nasty torment involved pulling my cock-leash up through my nose-ring and then down to my close-shackled wrists in front of me, making it impossible for me to raise my head any distance above my wrists without inflicting serious pain on both my nose and my dick. When such restraint was employed, Lady V would jam the end of an ass-hook up my behind, strap its upper part loosely to the back of my constrictive belt, and fasten my leash to it. A jerk at this leash was painful enough, but if I tried to crawl forward when both my nose-ring and my cock were involved, the misery was much, much worse. There were days when I wondered how I could enrage her guards so much that they would kill me!

A few weeks after the “party,” however, I was surprised to hear Mistress tell me, “You know, Charlie, you did an excellent job on Kitty during the exhibition. I’m thinking, in fact, that I might enjoy your attentions as much as she did. What do you think of that?”

I was utterly shocked. I was still on my knees in dog-bondage. And Mistress wanted me to make love to her? I couldn’t believe that she was at all interested in having her dog go to bed with her, but I could not deny what I had just heard. My answer, in dog-language of course, was “Eerrrgh?”

“I know this may seem a surprise to you, dear pup, but I have my own needs to consider. And no matter how much you may satisfy me -- or fail to satisfy me -- you will still remain my pet dog and receive no favors for your performance. Do you understand?” The only answer I could give that would avoid punishment was “Arf, arf!” and that was indeed my answer. I could not avoid suspecting that this was just another trick to frustrate and humiliate me. But Mistress seemed satisfied with my answer, and before I knew it, I was being led to her apartment on the top floor of her mansion.

Leashed by my nose-ring, getting there required me to climb several flights of stairs. In my current dog-bondage this was not an easy task. By the time we reached the door to her private quarters, I was gasping for breath. “You’re tired, aren’t you, baby?” she asked. “Well, I think you deserve some rest. Come along with me to my bedroom.”

My mind was reeling with the thought of what lay ahead of me. Only a sharp jerk at my leash got me moving again, and I was dazzled by what I saw when we got inside her bedroom. Not only were there posts in front of all the walls with D-rings set at various heights on them, there were chains with cuffs hanging from the ceiling, a pair of sharp-topped “horses” in one corner, and a fearful display of other bondage appliances hung everywhere on the walls. My God, this woman is a fiend from Hell, I thought. She must spend every night torturing some poor slavegirl or two!

And sure enough, there were two incredibly shapely girls in severe bondage, fixed by collar-chains to the sides of the enormous bed that stood in the center of the room. They looked curiously at me but their gags prevented any oral comments. Already, my cock was beginning to rise in response to my imagined conquest of my Mistress. She noticed it, of course, and smiled at me. “You’re thinking the same thing I am, aren’t you, Charlie?”

I had to “Arf” my agreement. She continued, “There is one condition that I must insist on, dear puppy. You must be blindfolded and deafened before our encounter, so I need not worry about my dog seeing me nude or hearing my excitement. I will apply these fixtures myself.” And she did so, almost immediately.

The blindfold was actually a full discipline-helmet, but before she put it on me she forced thick cotton plugs into my ears so that I could not hear even the loudest sound. After that, she laced and strapped the heavy leather helmet over my head until I thought my head was trapped in a terrible vise. The mouth-hole was open, of course, for my tongue had to be one of my love-making instruments. Only after I was so blinded and deafened was I urged by my to climb up onto the bed.

I managed to do what I assumed the tugs at my leash were telling me, and after some uncertain maneuvers I was able to climb up onto the marvelously soft bed and await further commands. Lying on my back with my knees in the air and my hands on my chest because of the short chains between my wrist-cuffs and my collar, I awaited further orders via my nose-leash.

For some time there was nothing I could hear or feel. God only knew what she was preparing! And then there was the warmth of a female body next to mine. Assuming that this was Mistress who wanted my attention, I rolled toward her and did my best to put my chain-limited arms around her. She reacted quickly. I could not hear her response, but felt her arms seize my body and pull me closer to her. By this time, I was achieving a truly monstrous erection and could not wait to do what came naturally -- to invade her incredible body with my rampant manhood.

First, though, I rolled toward her and sought her full, lusciously firm breasts with my mouth. As soon as I found one stiffly thickened nipple, I teased and tormented it with my tongue. Its taste was rich and salty, adding to my arousal, and I sucked and nibbled at it until I could feel her body’s quivering excitement. The same attack on her other nipple increased her response until I could hardly hold back from the final assault.

And so I managed to get my hips above her crotch and to probe her love-tunnel with my commanding manhood. She answered by raising her hips as high as she could and licking eagerly at my chest. Entering her was my natural response, and I shoved my iron-hard dick into her with every ounce of my masculine energy. As I groaned with excitement, I could feel her body’s eager response. From then on, it was a totally delicious exercise in thrusting and pulling until I reached the verge of climax. She showed by her movements that she was at the same stage. It took only few more pumps before I exploded with unbelievable pleasure, and it was obvious that she had reached the same marvelous eruption.

I waited until my arousal faded and my organ was flaccid again. Mistress seemed to be relaxing as well, and I waited several more moments before withdrawing. If she moaned at my departure, I could not hear it. But this was such incredible pleasure that I could only think that serving as her dog would be as close to heaven as I could ever get. So when the guards came and put me into my dog-bondage again, I could only accept my situation as a condition I would always want.

It was only later that I wondered whether my sex-companion had really been my Mistress. After all, I could not see her or hear her, and it could well have been one of those gorgeous slavegirls instead. Well, whoever it had been, my needs had been well served by the experience. I decided that serving as a dog was much more satisfying than many of the few other jobs I could find in life, considering my lack of skills and my sexual needs.

And so I remain a dog, secured in humiliating bondage and subject to my Mistress’s orders, but with any of the other possibilities open to me, this seems as acceptable as any I can realistically think of. I will serve as her dog as long as my beautiful Mistress wants me, and then I will probably be sold to some other mistress who wants a dog like me. I cannot think of a more satisfying fate.