My Life as His Bitch Ch. 02

I liked the garden. It was mine in most senses: my flowers and shrubs, my digging and weeding, and my loving care. Crawling around the perimeter of the lawn inspecting my garden projects wasn't a hardship, although I resented that I couldn't pull the occasional weed or dead end as I passed. I peed on the garden's only tree, just the way he'd trained me. Peeing whilst butt-plugged was a strangely pleasant feeling.

Max and his guests came out into the garden - whether to see me, or view the garden I wasn't sure. "Most of it is her work," he freely admitted, and then said: "Bitch, come!"

I crawled to Max, kneeling directly in front of him, my face at his crotch, my leash dangling between my breasts. He untied the cords of my bone-gag and demonstrated its other use - lobbing it to the end of the lawn (which admittedly wasn't very far.)

I crawled after the bone-gag, retrieving it back to Max without delay, eagerly placing it within his right hand. He threw it again, and this time Ryan called me. Another tough decision a dog has to make: Whether to return to your owner, or show friendliness to visitors. I had no experience of this one, but guessed that Max wanted to be hospitable. I took his lead, so to speak, and went to Ryan. I knelt in front of him and thrusted the bone hard into his crotch. He recoiled, more in shock than pain. Max and Gothwoman laughed, and just for once it wasn't at my expense.

While throwing the bone for me, they tied up the loose ends of their business dealings. I was exhausted by the time they went, so exhausted that I had forgotten about my original fear of being displayed to others.

The visitors left around 9pm, with Gothwoman reminding Max about the kennels, and talking of introductory discounts. I could sense that Max was swayed by discounts, by Gothwoman's persuasive powers, and by his own natural curiosity. I sensed it wasn't the last I'd see of her.

Max closed the front door, turned around and kissed me on the head. Taking hold of my leash he led me into the lounge. I settled on the rug by the settee while he turned on the television. Then he went back into the study. The television was for me!

On TV was a boring makeover program, something about sprucing up your home before you sell it. 'House porn' Max calls it. What about turning women into dogs? Now that would be a far more interesting makeover.

At least we were on the right channel for Big Brother eviction night, something I rarely missed. Max joined me later in the program in time for the eviction, and sat down with a cup of tea on a side table. I pressed myself affectionately against his legs in a not very doggy position.

There was something Max had that I wanted, something I'd been thinking about for the last hour. I wiped my dribbling chin on my upper arm; not a nice thing to do, but better than dribbling on his trousers.

During the ad break, he unwrapped the object of my desire: a small bar of chocolate. He took a bite from it, unmoved by my rapt attention. I dribbled again, as a gagged girl is liable to do, even without the provocation of chocolate. I knew how this game worked. Sitting nicely was good, whereas (ironically) making puppydog eyes or otherwise pouting was counter-productive, leading to the denial of chocolate, and perhaps a further punishment, such as having to sit in the corner of the room. This evening I truly believed I had been a good puppy-girl, considering it was the first time I had met strangers. Perhaps Max felt he owed me something after his screw-up with the kitchen door.

"Paws," he said. I lifted them up and turned them slowly so he could check them for signs of red. All clear. The training is paying off. He removed my bone-gag and fed me several cubes of chocolate over the next half-hour.

Each bite of chocolate brought with it a new level of intensity. Max's fingers never escaped my mouth without a lick and a suck. He grabbed the leash just a couple of inches from my collar and drew me towards him. Holding me almost face to face, I smiled and waited for a kiss. Instead I felt his toes against my sex. I squirmed a little but didn't recoil, I wore a broad closed-mouth grin of delight.

Suddenly he pushed me to the floor. I feared I had done something wrong, but as I looked up I saw he was unbuckling his belt. I was going to get something, and the bulge in his shorts gave me a good indication of what. Usually I'd be fixed to my bitch- frame for sex, when the fucking came as the culmination of a long and intense ritual of pain and pleasure. But the frame was back in the bedroom, surplus to requirements tonight. I took up a suitable position, on all-fours with my ass in the air, my hips swaying and tail wagging until I became skewered on his shaft. It filled me and controlled me.

Max demanded my paws in his hands, pinning them to the carpet either side of my hips by the grip of his fingers. Then he gave my wrists a violent half-twist, which locked my shoulders down, and left my face grinding into the rug. He thrusted his hips, each thrust causing an ecstatic mixture of pleasure and pain, my shoulders joint twisted close to dislocation. He came with growling roar. At that moment even more of an animal as I was.

I barked several times, just as I was required to immediately after sex; whether I'd managed an orgasm or not. It was a pathetic and embarrassing bark that would make anyone laugh. What blissful humiliation!

Max cleaned up, leaving me to recover - in mind as much as body. Then he allowed me to stretch out on the sofa while he watched a late movie. My head rested easily upon his thigh, just as easily as his hand did upon my breasts.