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From: beccatoy@aol.com (BeccaToy)
Subject: My Canine Humiliation (M/f, D/s, humiliation, w/s True!)
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Hello again, readers--

It's time for another story about my ongoing humiliation training. For those of
you who haven't read my previous tale, I’ll just say that I am both a happily
married homemaker and a phone whore. Everything I write is true. My owner is J,
or as I call him, Sir. He calls me and gives me orders, which I then carry out
for him. On the rare occasions I don’t, punishment is swift and harsh. 

Today Sir has given me a special order, inspired by my laziness in getting this
story to him. I am not allowed to cum until I finish it, no matter how hot I
get writing it. I am allowed that privilege only after completing my work,
after which I am ordered to tell you all about how I finally got myself off.

**********

I had told Sir that one of my fantasies involved treated like a dog. Collar,
leash, dog bowl--the works. Sir and I met online as usual, and he gave me a
shopping list, which included a bag of dog food of my choice. Okay, I thought,
this has to be a purely psychological exercise—no way am I going to be eating
dog food. Also on the list were a pair of dog bowls for food and water
(cool--now we are getting into my fantasy!), a collar (even though I already
have several, including a leather one that says "bitch" on it), and my usual
toys. (My toy suitcase contains clothespins, vibrators, dildos, crops,
restraints--all sorts of fun things.)

I went to the store and bought a bag of Pedigree Small Chunks and two white dog
bowls. And then, on impulse, I bought a squeaky toy shaped like a fire hydrant.
I still didn't think I'd really be eating the dog food, but just selecting it
and paying for it psyched me out and made me wonder whether was anything I
wouldn't do for Sir.  

I put my purchases away and went about my daily chores. Later I signed on the
computer, and Sir was there. He ordered me upstairs on all fours to wait for
his call. I was to have all my purchases at my side, plus clothespins and
packing tape (the wide stuff they use at the post office). Naturally I was
already wet with anticipation when the phone rang.

"Hello," I answered, already assuming a submissive tone of voice. Ironically I
have a rather strong, smart-alecky personality, but it is erased the moment I
hear the sexy, masculine voice of my owner.

"Becca, are you in position?" he asked me. I answered in the affirmative. I had
already downed two 16-oz. glasses of water at his command, so my bladder was
already feeling full. He had me get on my knees, fill my glass, and drink two
more tall glasses. To be honest, the amount of water I had to gulp down made me
feel almost sick.  

I was naked except for my collar. Sir had me put clothespins on my breasts. I
have large, full breasts, and the clothespins drag the floor when I am on all
fours. Next he had me put the tape around my hands to make "paws." It was so
difficult to get the second hand done—I missed my fingers already. He told me I
was only to speak as a dog unless otherwise instructed, using one "woof!" for
yes and two for no. He made me throw the squeaky toy and chase after it on all
fours, the clothespins dragging on the carpet, my bladder in agony. He laughed
as I chased it over and over, fetching it with my mouth.

Finally he allowed me to put the toy aside. He then told me to open the bag of
dog food (hard with my paws!) and pour some into the bowl. I also filled the
water bowl halfway. "Princess," he commanded (somehow "Princess" had become my
doggy name), "eat your food." Surely he was joking! I looked at those brown
chunks and felt tears form in my eyes. "Now!" he demanded impatiently. I leaned
over and took one in my mouth. Crunch.

Can I even begin to describe the humiliation of eating dog food? It is dry and
disgusting, and I thought I might vomit. I closed my eyes and tried not to
smell it as I took another dainty bite. I saw myself as a dainty and beloved
toy poodle, but J Sir apparently saw me as more of a hearty St. Bernhard--he
told me to eat faster and gulp my food like a real hungry bitch would do.
Because I was his bitch, wasn't I? His horny bitch, Princess? I woofed once in
agreement and began to eat faster. Finally the food was gone, and I thought the
worst was over. Then he told me to get newspaper and spread it on the bathroom
floor. I did, although I was terribly afraid of what I suspected was going to
happen.

J Sir had me stick out my tongue and pant for him as he laughed and taunted me:
"That's so fucking cute, Princess!" I began to drool, so I stopped to wipe my
mouth. "Did I tell you to stop?" he demanded. Suddenly I really felt like a bad
dog. I whimpered and whined and began panting again, this time letting the
drool run down my chin until my mouth felt dry. J Sir must have known this
would happen--he told me to begin lapping my water like the bitch I was. I
woofed and bent over the water bowl. Now, in all the d/s stories I’ve read, the
submissive just slurps up the water with the greatest of ease. Bullshit! It's
damned hard to get that water lapped up. I tried slurping, but well…this bitch
should have known better than to try to put anything over on her owner.

"Bad Princess! No slurping! Get on your hind legs by the sink!" Cringing
because I had displeased my master, I slunk the few feet to the sink and
kneeled by it. "Put up your paws as if you were begging, and whine for your
punishment." I put up my paws and whined and whimpered. I had displeased my
master. I was a bad dog. I was so ashamed! "Get the soap and lather it up." I
took a bar of Ivory between my paws and lathered it, the running water
reminding me of how badly I had to pee. Next I was ordered to put the soap in
my mouth and pump it back and forth. I did, gagging as my master told me what a
bad dog I was. Finally he let me put the soap down but didn’t allow me to spit.
The taste was horrible, and I wondered what happened to dogs that puke without
permission. 

There was a brief silence and then that voice again. "You have a choice,
Princess: Don't rinse and take more soap, or I let you wash your mouth out in
the toilet bowl." Ewwwww! I suddenly wished my standards of cleanliness were a
bit higher. I chose more soap and again begin pumping the bar in and out of my
mouth, gagging and choking. After what felt like an eternity I was allowed to
put it aside. Then I was ordered to crawl back to the water bowl, the
clothespins on my nipples a constant ache, my bladder distended. I began to
carefully lap up the rest of the water. Truly thankful for the water after the
soap treatment, I happily lapped the bowl empty.

"Get four clothespins," J Sir demanded. I had to crawl back into the bedroom
for them. I was then ordered to put all four on my tongue. "Go ahead, Princess,
try to talk!" he chuckled. I could hear the laughter in Sir's voice as I tried
to tell him I had to pee, that being the most pressing matter in my mind. No
matter how I tried, I was completely unable to make myself understood. He asked
me over and over what I was trying to say. I was crying, humiliated. My hands
were paws; my power of speech was gone; I truly felt like a bad dog at her
master’s mercy. He had me bark for him some more. I woofed, whined, and panted
as well as I could as the clothespins pinched my tongue and drool ran down the
sides of my chin. He told me to remove the clothespins from my tongue and
breasts and I did, literally howling in pain. I truly was no more than his dog.


Sir asked me if I had to "do doggy pee" I woofed a yes. Oh no--he really wanted
me to pee on the papers. I couldn't--no way! I was still thinking I couldn't
when the pee began running down my thighs and onto the paper. It wasn't a
trickle--it was a flood! I had to hold the phone down so he could hear it
hitting the paper and the floor. When I was finally done, I simply knelt there
crying, pee on my legs. "Bad dog, peeing in the house," J Sir scolded. I knew
good doggies went outside. I was not a good doggie.

"Lean over and rub your cheeks in your mess, bad Princess," commanded Sir. I
rubbed my cheeks over the paper, getting piss on my face. I was so ashamed.
"Are you my piss-covered dog, Princess?" I heard my owner ask. I woofed. "Are
you in heat, Princess? Does my doggy want to cum?" Although it was horrible to
admit, I once again woofed affirmative. My cunt was swollen and soaking wet.
Being treated like a dog, peeing on the floor--everything had made me so horny!
"Hump your paw for me, Princess," he said. I put a paw in my soaking pussy and
began to push it in and out. I could feel the orgasm building. I whined and
howled and whimpered as I came, slumped and masturbating in my own piss.
 
"Now you are going to make me cum," said J Sir. "Tell me what a piss-covered
bitch in heat you are." My voice sounded strange to me, as I began to tell J
Sir what I was: "I'm your bitch, your Princess, your dog. I'm your piss-covered
bad dog. I ate dog food. I fetched. I peed on the floor because you wanted me
too. I'm filthy and disgusting. Being a dog and pissing myself turned me on, so
I humped my paw until I came. I am such a whore, such a bitch in heat." I heard
J Sir cumming to my tear-filled recital about what a nasty animal I was. I was
so pleased that he was happy with his Princess bitch!

Telling this story has me so turned on again. Now I’m going away for a minute
to make myself cum. I’ll tell you about that in a moment….

**********

I’m back. I usually cum about four times a day, but for various reasons, I
didn't get to cum yesterday after the morning, and today I was ordered not to
until I finished this story. It was very hard not to rub my hot, wet pussy
against the rough fabric of the chair and cum while recounting the nasty things
J Sir made me do for him.

I knew how horny I’d be once I finished my assignment, so I had two dildos
lying here on the floor along with some lube, though writing the story made me
so hot I didn't need lube for my pussy. I lay naked on the floor, running my
fingers over my firm breasts and pinching my hard nipples. I thought of J Sir
standing over me, watching me spread for him, while I groveled at his feet. I
ran my fingers down my tummy, stopping to gently pull on my navel ring. Down my
fingers went, spreading my pussy lips. I picked up the larger of the two dildos
and placed it in my pussy, pumping in and out. I was so horny, I could have cum
right then, but I stopped myself. I brought the dildo to my lips and rubbed the
juices all over my face. I sucked it, shutting my eyes and pretending J Sir was
rewarding me by letting me suck his cock after it had been in my pussy. I
deep-throated the dildo and moaned and writhed on the floor, so needy, so
desperate to cum. 

I lubed the other dildo, got on my hands and knees, and then plunged the dildo
deeply into my ass, crying out in self-inflicted pain. I began fucking my ass
hard, still sucking and licking the larger dildo, my mouth barely fitting
around the huge shaft. Finally I turned on my back, put my feet up against the
wall, and pushed my ass toward the wall. I began letting the dildo push out,
then slammed my ass against the wall, forcing it back in. With my other hand I
began pinching my tits hard, feeling tears flood my eyes as I twisted. Finally,
I put the other dildo into my hot, needy box. I pushed it in and out, sawing
frantically, pushing my ass against the wall to keep the dildo fucking my ass
hole.

Even though my master had told me to make this last, I had taken all I could
take. My body spasmed in orgasm. I came and came, screaming and moaning. I lay
there for a before taking the dildo from my pussy, and licked it clean. I
removed the dildo from my ass, put both aside, and came back here to finish
typing. 

I hope you enjoyed my latest story, dear readers. J Sir tells me that I will be
completing such writing assignments on a regular basis. As always, Sir and I
welcome any comments, especially from anyone with exciting ideas about how he
can further humiliate me--his dog, his piss-slut, his whore.


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