Atta Girl

Suddenly I felt bubbly. Joyful. Grateful. "I love it." I meant it.

"Atta girl. So, now, if you pass this last test, you get to wear the collar. Okay. Close your eyes. Sit up. On your knees, like that. Good. Hold out your hand—no, your other hand. Keep your eyes closed."

He took my left hand. Carefully, gently, he worked my wedding ring off my finger. I heard him pull a couple more objects from the bag and set them on the floor in front of me. Then I heard him fiddling with his own fingers.

"Okay," he said. "Open your eyes."

He had placed our wedding rings on a panel of oak. Next to them was a hammer. All of this, right in front of me.

He must have seen something on my face, but I don't know what it was. "Babe," he said quickly. "Look at me. Atta girl. Look at his collar. Look how pretty it is. So pink. You want this more than anything else in the world. You want to be my cow, right? Atta girl. Nothing will make you happier than being my cow, right? Atta girl."

Cow, yes. Make me your cow. Put that collar on my neck. Moo.

"But you can't be my cow if you're married. Cows don't get married. Cows are animals, cows are owned. If you want to be my cow, you can't be married, any more. You have to smash the rings."

I stared at the rings, the hammer. I'd stopped shivering. The ache in my gut felt like it belonged to someone else.

"Be a good cow. Smash those rings."

I seized the hammer and raised it up and brought it down as hard as I could onto the rings. Our rings were white gold, so they were soft and easily smashable. My engagement ring had a diamond on it. The diamond flew off under the couch somewhere. I wondered if we'd ever see it again. I struck again. Then again, and again. The rings bent, flattened as they drove into the oak panel. I hammered and hammered and hammered. Good cow.

"Stop, stop, stop," he said. "Christ, stop it. So fucking loud. I believe you. You did it."

I was crying. Why was I crying? I shouldn't be crying. I'd passed the test. I was so happy, so fucking happy.

He came up beside me. He put the collar on me. He sat on the couch and brought up his smart phone. "Smile, baby. It's your owning day. Show off your collar."

I flashed a huge grin, tears drying on my face. I turned my head to the side, stretched my neck a little to show off my brand-new collar. Happy cow.

"All right, I'm totally convinced. Everything we ever do from here on out is totally great with you, right? Everything you hear, everything we do, everything that happens with you and me, it's all good. Everything we do makes you happy, right? Like a cow."

I nodded. Everything we did made me happy. Moo.

"All right. Sit down. Spread your legs, wide. Right. Play with yourself some. Try to get a little feeling back."

My labia lips were as cold and unfeeling as chewed gum. I kneaded myself, trying to warm them up.

Mike made a call. "Hey, man. Yeah-yeah, mine's done. I finished the install about an hour ago, just been testing the trigger. I'm convinced. I mean, she could have play acted some things, but there's no way she's faking it. Yeah. No. I made her smash our wedding rings. With a hammer. Yeah. Yeah. No way she'd do it if she were faking. But things are different now." He looked at me. "Ain't that right, honey?"

I nodded and smiled. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I was sure it was great.

"Hey, baby," said Mike. "Here. Smile for Tyrone."

Tyrone? Janine's husband? Mike was talking to Janine's husband?

Mike held out the camera. "C'mon, spread 'em, and big smile. Yeah, that's it. And . . . there." I heard the whoosh of my photo flying off to Tyrone. I definitely was porn, now. I really hoped Tyrone would approve. I wondered whether he'd pass on the picture to anyone else.

Mike kept talking. "I like the glasses. For contrast, right? You think she's stuck-up and frigid, but actually . . . No, a cow. I tried the dog thing, but she came up with the cow thing herself, and I liked it a lot better. She's really scrawny for a cow, but she moos really pretty. I need to fatten her up. Get her off that vegan shit. Of course, I bought all this dog food in preparation for her being a dog . . . . I guess maybe a cow can eat dog food. Right, baby?"

You bet, baby. This cow will do anything you want. It's all a great idea.

Mike asked, "So what'd you make Janine do? You know, to test?" A pause, and then: "What? Seriously? Send a pic."

Waiting for the photo, Mike smiled at me. Blew me a kiss. I shivered, not from cold but from gratitude. I kept kneading myself. So happy. Some feeling was coming back to my cunt.

Mike looked at his phone, then laughed. "Holy shit, dude. That's just wrong. Hey, Lori, check this out."

Mike's phone showed a fat white woman on all fours, heart-shaped rear up to the camera. Janine. Her ass had been raucously beaten—I could see several angry red handprints and welts from a belt—but what really shocked me was the thick bundle of blonde dreadlocks bound up with rubber bands and hanging out of her asshole. Janine's dreadlocks, more than three feet long. She'd been so proud of them. And her husband had cut them off and stuffed them up her ass to give her a tail.

I was so jealous. I was a cow. Cows had tails. I wanted a tail, too. Maybe Mike would cut off my hair and do that to me. Or maybe I could get them to stuff Janine's dreads up my ass. I was a clever cow, I could make it happen. We'd figure it out.

Mike talked to Tyrone. "She's a big girl, Ty. Anyway, can you have her keep them in until we get there? Uh-huh. Yeah, I mean, about 10 minutes. Unless—you know, I could put mine in the trunk for the trip. Then she doesn't have to get dressed, and we can get there in five." He looked at me and laughed. "Trust me, she'll think it's a great idea."

Without being told, and just for the fuck of it, I grabbed my foot and started fellating my big toe again. "'ake a 'icture," I said. "'ohw 'yrone."

"Fuck, you're the best, baby." He took the shot and sent it to Tyrone. I beamed around a mouthful of big toe. This was a great idea. From here on out, everything would be a really great idea.