Mistress Talia: a sadistic domme

For a full week, Suzanne's punishment continued: she was required by her gender-bending captor to live as a bitch. She remained on all fours at all times, naked except for the furs wrapped around her knees and hands. In addition, she was forbidden to speak at all, allowed only to whimper or bark.

Her bed of straw and blanket were taken away from her, she now slept curled on the floor as close to the fire as possible, on the cold hard ground.

The worst humiliation was her bathroom activities. Suzanne blushed at the very thought of it. After a week, she'd become somewhat accustomed to going outside on a leash, crouching like a bitch to pee. But the shame rose in her anew each time she had to crouch to take a dump, her legs quivering, the smell assailing her nostrils and presumably offending Chris.

Dogs do not clean up after that, nor at any other time. After a few days, she felt utterly degraded, dirty, disgusting. Yesterday, Chris had filled a washtub with water and soap and forced her into it, and she'd reacted with relief at the ability to bathe, though embarrassment that he washed her himself.

The lack of privacy was difficult as well. Chris only checked his traps sporadically this week, taking her along on her leash. She had no opportunity to repeat her crime of touching herself with his constant presence.

Paradoxically, she was alone with her thoughts constantly and began to grow lonely although she was never alone. Chris rarely spoke to her directly, and when he did it was one word commands, "Down." or "Sit." or "Beg".

The one time he did speak was when he instructed her each evening to hump his boot. This was the closest thing she got to human contact at all, and even then Chris spoke to her as if she were an animal.

The evening routine began with Chris heating food for himself, as he'd taken over the household chores during her punishment. This always shamed her deeply, seeing him manage the tasks she'd performed for him effortlessly, realizing how useless she was to him, how little she had to offer.

Chris had trained her to eat pussy extremely well in the previous weeks, but did not use her for this while she was a pet. He disdained even her sexual service.

After he finished his own dinner, he'd empty the bowl on the floor that generally held water for her, and scrape the leftovers from his plate into it. As he washed up the dishes, she gulped down her meager meal, the only one she had each day, and then he'd wash her bowl and refill it with water.

Done with his chores, he'd call her to him, and offer his boot to her cunt. She'd crouch over his foot, arms wrapped around his leg, and hump to his commands until she came. Horribly, Chris required her to bark to signal her orgasm, until then as she writhed on his legs, she could only whimper. His commands were peppered with horrible comments that shamed her deeply, "My little bitch is in heat."

He'd repeated this every evening this week. Last night, she had been feeling somewhat refreshed from her bath, thus a bit more confident. But the loneliness of her position had effected her so deeply that she was overjoyed when it was time for the boot and an unusual thing occurred. After the bark indicating her orgasm, she still clung to his leg desperately, and after a few minutes holding tightly, found she had to bark again.

"Down," he commanded to get her off his leg. Reluctantly, she went down on all fours, head hung low in shame, but the lower half of her body still hot and twitching.

"Roll over," Chris said. Startled at the unusual command, she rolled on her back, leaving her belly exposed.

"Open your legs wide," Chris required. Her eyes opened wide before her legs did, in confusion at the command.

Chris lifted his leg and brought the toe down in her cunt hard. As the pain of the kick spread through her loins, she felt the heat of her desire crest a third time. As the tears filled her eyes, she let out a bark.

Chris was visibly startled. He questioned her, "Answer me as a human. My kick got you off?"

Hesitantly she replied, "Yes Sir," wondering if she had displeased him, if some further punishment was forthcoming. But he chuckled before replying, "Good girl. Get up. You're done being a puppy."

She winced at the pain between her legs as she moved into a kneeling position, offering herself to Chris. And then, overcome with emotion at the human connection between them, the intimacy of the pain and pleasure, she pressed her head to the ground between his feet, in the position of supplication.

"What do you want?" he inquired.

"Please Sir," she croaked, "May I lick your boot clean for you?"

Chuckling again, he acquiesced. And as her tongue moved over the wet leather, he spoke to her gently. He told her the punishment was complete, that she would be allowed to piss and shit alone, able to wash regularly, permitted to take up her chores as a contributing human member of the household.

"But you are to remember that I can make you a bitch again at any time. And if the need arises for me to do it again, I may up the ante by allowing the dogs to use you as the bitch you are."

Later that night, curled under the blanket in her soft straw bed, those words haunted her and invdaed her dreams.

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