Good Girl: Day Three

Good Girl Day 03

I spent the night curled up on the floor, sleeping below the foot of the bed, letting out small cries and coos that went ignored by my master.

Already, I was beginning to think of Scott as my owner instead of my husband.

That is when I could think at all.

My mind was consumed by the events of the past few days, every second more degrading than the last. I wore a collar around my neck, the cheap kind with a laser engraved faux stone that said Bitch-Slut. Other than my lead and knee-pads, I had spent the past few days naked, pretending to be a dog.

I barked, I fetched, and even used the bathroom outside, only after whimpering my needs at the door.

I even drank from the toilet.

There was a set of rules that Scott had left for me. It wasn't an ultimatum, but the tone with which he delivered them gave me the impression that obeying wasn't really optional. And to be fair - I had fucked up. I had been bored in our marriage. I suppose we both had. But while Scott dove into watching kinky pornography, I strayed.

Ever so slightly, it must be said. I never actually fucked him, but in a night of desperation, I sent a co-work nude photos, tempted by him to use several new toys I bought for the occasion. When I refused to let things go any further, he shared the photos with the entire office.

I wasn't fired - if anything Mr. Johnson now paid particular attention to me, making sure to assign me any task at the realty office that required bending over or stretching.

It seemed the whole office (mostly men) leered at me with envious lust, undressing me with their eyes. Not that they hadn't already seen everything, my petite perky figure, b-cup tits, my bare pussy stuffed with a dildo. They didn't need to imagine, and every time anyone looked at me I wondered if they were thinking of those photos.

Though I found it humiliating, another part of me glowed in the excitement of their attention. I will admit that I leaned into my new role for a few days, not quite inviting the looks, but neither was I overcome with disgust. Only there was a sort of sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, as if I knew I couldn't possibly keep this secret now that everyone knew.

Of course my husband found out.

We fought, me losing every single argument. Eventually, it became the same refrain until I thought we were destined for divorce. I asked him what I could do, willing to try anything to save my marriage to an otherwise wonderful man. He responded with these instructions, a way for me to make amends by debasing myself into the behavior of a literal bitch.

For one week, I was to act exactly like a dog.

Here were my rules:

You may not speak (words). Instead, yip, growl, bark, moan, whatever.

You will wear your collar at all times. Otherwise, no clothing.

You are not allowed on the furniture.

You will walk on your hands and knees.

You may not pee without permission.

You will eat and drink when instructed.

You will obey ALL your master's commands.

I had taken the week off from work. But Scott had escalated things, inviting others to see my disgrace. A neighborhood boy, just barely in college, had watched as I squatted outside, then laughed as Scott used the hose to clean my body in a large kiddie pool. Then Scott had a party, inviting my entire office to watch me act this part. He made me play fetch, let everyone take turns spanking me, and then...

Tiffany, the curvy brunette secretary took her turn with me in the bathroom, forcing me to drink out of the toilet while she fingered my bare cunt. After letting go of my initial revulsion, I found myself reveling in the orgasm, the public degradation arousing me more than anything in years. The scene replayed over and over again, on a loop in my mind, causing my pussy to ramp itself up for whatever treatment my husband had in mind for the rest of the week

Five more days. And it would only get worse.

But then it would be over.

But as I lay there in the dark, trying to reconcile my new needs and desires with any sort of semblance of self-respect, I began to wonder.

Would I really want this to end?

I woke up needing to pee. My master still snored in bed, so I tried to wait patiently. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to wake him; I still had trouble making myself whine for every basic need. It was the most humiliating part of the experience, being walked outside while Scott waited impatiently for the urge to go to overwhelm any sense of decency.

Slowly, day by day, my resistance was broken. That first night, I refused to go outside at first and shamefully pissed on the carpet. Scott had punished me, rubbing my nose in my mess as he fucked me. So I tried to bark, barely managing a stifled little yip that didn't cause him to stir.

I summoned up my courage, squashing my shame.

"ARF!"

He rolled over a little.

I had to try again.

"ARF!"

He opened his eyes, smiling down at me as I waited on my hands and knees, tail in the air.

"Good girl," He muttered groggily. "Do you need to go outside?"

"Arf," I murmured.

He then got up, taking the lead from the door knob and attaching it to my collar before leading me towards the backdoor. He pulled me gently, though there wasn't much of a point in the exercise.

Where would I go completely naked?

I had the image of scampering off, tunneling out underneath the privacy fence with my nubile young body covered in dirt and muck, wandering the neighborhood until someone picked me up off the streets.

They would put me into a mental institution.

Or worse, someone with a sexual interest would find me and keep me this way permanently. I was pretty and blonde, and at this point, subservient enough to make a nice sex slave to some creep.

"Just taking my bitch out for a walk," Scott managed to sound cavalier.

Which made me pray he was again talking to the neighbor boy. Only yesterday, he'd let this 18-year-old spank me for taking too long to pee in front of him. But better him than including another stranger in my shame.

This time, I knew better. I didn't look up, doing my best not to imagine the set of eyes watching as I hiked up one leg against the tree, trying stupidly for some leverage before whizzing directly downwards.

What dignity did I have left?

At this point, I had no more self-respect to lose. There was no reason not to submit; I had to let this continue. Surely nothing could match the embarrassment of that first time. So I kept my eyes to the ground, accepting this as the new normal. And in the distance, I tried not to hear the sounds of two people talking loudly, probably Conor's parents.

I don't know if Scott intentionally stopped so that I could hear them speaking about me.

"It's his yard," the voice said. "Besides, I know you want to see where this goes..."

"Still, right out in the open?"

"We're looking through a hole in the fence," He said. "It's not like it's out on the street."

I gulped, wondering if that was next. But I didn't have long. The tug went to my collar again, leading me into the kitchen. There, he poured a bowl of cereal and set it on the floor, watching wordlessly as I made a mess. I gulped it down greedily, slurping up the milk, then he led me to the bathroom.

He took out a small plastic bottle, taking off the tip and bending down to use the nozzle towards me. At first, I thought it was a douche, but then I realized his aim was no accident, the tip parting my tight, resistant asshole. I moaned, whimpering as he squeezed the contents of the enema into me.

"When I leave, you can pretend to be human in here," Scott said. "Take a few more minutes and do your make-up. We're going out."

It was only a small mercy, but I was grateful for those minutes of privacy in the bathroom. After I was finished, he took me outside and put me into the kiddie pool. He turned on the hose, sending me squealing and scampering, trying to endure each horrible second of the cold, hard spray as he ran soapy hands all over my body.

When I was finished, he made me shake myself dry.

He let me back inside, leaving me for a second to leave out the front door while I obediently waited, a certain nervousness creeping up my twitching rump. Then Scott came back, leaving the door open, motioning towards me with one hand.

"Come here girl," Scott said. "Here bitch-slut!"

Did I shake my head?

I didn't think so, but something conveyed to him my displeasure. It was one thing to crawl naked outside to pee with the privacy of our fence, another to walk in the front lawn where anyone could see. I imagined myself arrested, still barking as an officer put my arms behind my back.

"The coast is clear now bitch-slut," Scott said, looking over his shoulder. "It might not be if you don't hurry."

How could I possibly hurry?

I did my best, but my balance was tenuous at best, my pace little more than an enthusiastic waddle. My knees clicked together covered by the pads, and slowly I started to get a little more comfortable going a little quicker, though each lift of my knee sent up new surges of growing dread at being discovered. Only the fear that my master might make things worse propelled me forward out the door and into the sun.

This time, I couldn't help but pause and look around the houses in our subdivision. I wasn't exactly sure about the time, it might have been ten or eleven. Scott hadn't been screwing with me, no one was on the street. I could see that he had left the car door open, thankful that I could at least lay down in the backseat to wherever we were going. He pulled on the leash, trying to force me forward at a brisk pace I couldn't control. I almost smattered down against the driveway, needing to stop to regain my balance.

Then, only a step or two away from our SUV, I heard an engine. Before I could register what was happening, I saw the small sedan speed by, slowing for one agonizing second before continuing down the road. There was no doubt he had seen me, an attractive thirty-year-old woman naked, being led to the car on my hands and knees,

Every vein in my throat throbbed, creating a lightheaded rush of panic that could have caused my collapse. Thankfully, I had the animal instinct to keep at my task, hurriedly hopping up onto the car, laying down in the seat while Scott covered me with a blanket he prepared.

Not that I was able to cower for long.

By day three, I was desperate for any sort of mental stimulation. The first two days had been almost insufferable, especially at first. I missed talking, missed my phone and the countless ways I had entertained myself during the doldrums. Initially, the deprivation proved the worst part of my punishment, isolating me in my shame.

Now, after 48 hours of such an existence, I craved any sort of change. It was why last night I had been so eager to fetch, to please, if only so that my world wasn't so small and alone. Grimly, I noticed that there was a fledgling satisfaction rising from these small interactions. With less to focus on, I began to appreciate the smaller things...

Like a car ride.

He exited the highway, my curiosity causing me to risk shrugging off the blanket to literally press my face against the window. I pictured myself from the outside of the car, nude with my face nearly pressed against the glass, my body barely hidden from any passersby on the street.

I saw people as we sped by, walking on the sidewalk, stepping into their offices and cafes, enjoying life as humans. Already, there seemed to be a vast gulf between us. I should have been terrified of being spotted, but whizzing past, I couldn't make out faces or even many distinguishing characteristics.

Then Scott rolled down the window.

"Go ahead puppy," He said. "Hang your head out of the window."

I'd like to say that I realized intellectually there was a certain degree of safety. After all, most people wouldn't even look up. Besides, no one's immediate response to seeing a woman panting with her head out of the window, her breasts barely concealed by the car door, would be to take down a license plate number and call the cops.

But I was more driven by boredom.

The wind struck against my eyes, forcing them to open and close. My lips and cheeks warbled against the influx of air, in a weird imitation of the same act I'd seen countless animals do. Worse than the inherent humiliation of the task was the fact that I came up with it. That I took the initiative to take part in this pastiche of a pet.

Thankfully, there was only one lane, so that no car could come up next to us and see what I was doing. But I completely forgot about my rump and the other window until I heard the loud honking of another car blasting into my ear. Realizing that any car passing would have been able to see my bare ass, I frantically retreated back down in the back seat, cowering for the rest of the trip.

Only then did I start to guess where we were going. It became transparent as we pulled into the parking lot behind the large house we had renovated into an office building. Scott had taken me to work, MY work, and was planning to parade me in front of my co-workers.

In front of Ryan, the man who I'd spent the past few months shamelessly flirting with.

I suppose it shouldn't have mattered - after all they'd seen me at my home. Ryan had made several particularly cruel comments about me while the party watched me perform.

Admittedly, that got to me.I had found him so dreamy, so suave, so sexy, it's why I had been tempted to cheat. And now all of that posturing and pretense that went into flirting had been stripped away, reduced to the image of myself as a wanton whore ready to behave like a bitch in heat.

It was even written on my collar.

And then there was Tiffany, the secretary who made me drink her urine from the toilet. No doubt she would have something sinister planned for me.

But what cowered me the most was Mr. Johnson, the lecherous old owner who encouraged Scott to work something out with him.

Would he let them all fuck me?

I took a deep breath, running over the possibilities as I slowly extended one hand down out of the car. Slowly, I found myself on the ground, back on all fours, my palms aching from the hard concrete. There was a back door, an employee entrance, but Scott didn't lead me through there. Instead he went around the long way, walking me through the grass and around the front where anyone could see what was happening to me.

Thankfully, it wasn't a busy street.

But still, I heard another angry sounding honk burning my ears as my husband led me through the front door.

At the main desk, Tiffany sat clicking at her computer. She looked gorgeous, her dark hair flowing down directing attention to her large breasts. Admittedly, I never gave her quite enough respect, focused largely on the other male agents instead of the humble secretary. She acknowledged me with raised eyebrows and a devilish grin that grew quickly up on her moon shaped face.

"You probably should have come through the back door," Tiffany said in a fake whisper. "We have a client right now."

But it was too late, shaking hands with Mr. Johnson, a middle-aged balding man with a goatee came into the foyer, at first unaware of the naked girl on the floor in front of him.

"So the place will be on the market - what the..."

His eyes went to me, looking me up and down. Under his stare, I changed my position. Imitating a dog sitting, I created a modicum of modesty. My ass rested on my heels, my pussy shielded from inspection. My hands went up, closing into vertical fists that just barely obstructed the sight of my breasts.

"Come now, David," Mr. Johnson said. "I figured you would get a kick out of this."

"Well, what's, what's this?" the stranger said. "She's... she's..."

"It's called pet play," Mr. Johnson beamed, his eyes almost twinkling. "It's such a hip thing with the millenials. They'll wear costumes or get naked and act just like an animal."

"I had, I had no idea," David stammered. "I mean, I enjoy the view but... I don't know, it almost seems like too much. Especially in your store!"

Mr. Johnson shrugged.

"At this point in my career, what can anyone do to me?" He said flippantly. "Besides, this seems like a once in a lifetime opportunity. Last night I saw the bitch drink from the toilet."

"That's fucked up Larry," David said.

"Oh be a grown up about it, you've watched so much worse online."

"That's different..."

"You can go if you like," Mr. Johnson said. "I just figured as a favorite client..."

"Oh no, no, no," David said. "I'm in no rush. So the pet thing, she doesn't look much like anything."

"I can fix that!"

Jessica came out from behind the desk almost bubbling with excitement. She looked a sharp contrast to myself, wearing a formal white blouse that showed more than a hint of cleavage with a more modest black skirt.

I lowered my eyes, deferential, waiting to be told what to do.

In her hands was a small box, its contents clattering out.

"I got her a better tail earlier today," Tiffany said. "Now get on our hands and knees. Good girl, good girl."

Her hand patted gently on my butt, my face burning as she played with me so brazenly. But Tiffany was just getting started. She waved the tail in front of my face, forcing me to see how much wider it was compared to the one inside of me.

The butt plug was dark black, made of something that looked like rubber, curling up so that the elongated tail would stand up from in between my cheeks.

Her hand went all around my body, feeling my breasts, my stomach, then tracing gently to touch the outside of my pussy. And with her first two fingers tracing circles around my clit, I forget my humiliating predicament. Because when that tickling excitement started surging up my pussy, it didn't matter that the entire office could see me naked on my hands and knees. I was fixated on the brief, carnal joy between my legs.

Then there was a more disgraceful admission, the recognition that the more I was mistreated, the more my disillusioned libido seemed to crave. Focused on behaving, on submitting, every physical sensation became so much more profound. Last night, Tiffany's fingers had pleased me so thoroughly that all I could think about was what I could do to deserve that touch again.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what I knew she was about to do to me. I gasped as she removed the smaller tail, my ass feeling empty without my constant companion. I tried to steady myself, waiting to be assaulted by the larger toy. A cold sticky liquid touched my ring first, allowing the small tip of the butt plug to slide in easily.

I struggled with the rest, despite copious amounts of lube. I thought at any moment I would squeeze it out, but Tiffany wouldn't let me, pushing the toy in and out like she was fucking me with it.

It was more than I could take. The stretching hurt worse than going slowly into me. Even so, I got the message, relaxing even as I let out a pitiful puppy moan.

"Ruff.."

"Oh there, there girl, we almost have your puppy tail in place," Tiffany cooed. "Just relax that pretty little bottom for Mommy."

Her other hand moved to my clit, rubbing it again to make the last few inches easier.

"There, we go. Now we can do the other side. Sit up."

By now, several other agents from the office had come to watch the performance. Others decided to continue working, as though watching me nude was the most normal thing in the world. I suppose I shouldn't have been so surprised. After all everyone had seen me naked, undoubtedly saving those pictures to see whenever they wanted a good wank.

I wondered with a shudder how many men had masturbated to those pictures of me. I thought about the possibility of having them show up on websites, splattered all over the internet so everyone could see what a whore Scott married. It was enough to make me sob, and I might have started had Tiffany not been working on my make-up.