The Sun in Her Sky Ch. 02

And the changes in her became more evident as my training locked in.

She grew more passive as the days became weeks. I did everything for her - I cooked and cleaned for her, I took her to the bathroom to pee, I bathed her, I brushed her hair, I shaved her body, I read her own emails and news feeds to her and I made all the decisions pertaining to her. I rewarded her when she was good and punished her when she was bad. Her only responsibility - and one she learned to do exceptionally well - was to discern my wishes and to service them immediately, completely and enthusiastically. Joyfully, even.

Silence became deeply ingrained in her. She spoke rarely, and when she did her voice was a perpetual whisper. More often she let her body communicate, and I became good at reading her eyes, her expressions, her gestures and her postures. The mere touch of her hand on my arm could tell me how she was feeling and what she wanted. She didn't walk anymore - she crept around the apartment on her toes. Even when she laughed it came out as a staccato hiss rather than an actual noise. For a girl whose every word had annoyed me in high school, it was wonderful to see her embrace quiet.

Since she seemed so engaged and attentive when I was home, I really made an effort to keep things fresh and interesting for both of us. Becca appreciated most of my ideas, and even the few that didn't really 'click' with her were wonderful opportunities for growth and discovery. Our 'sexy fox' evening in mid-November was a good example of that.

I'd been browsing online during some down time the previous week and an online retailer was blowing our their 'erotic Halloween' stock. The sexy 'red fox' costume caught my eye, maybe because the model in the picture was petite like Becca. The costume had cute fox ears on a hair band, furry paw mittens and booties, and a long, beautiful faux-fur tail with a white tip, which was anchored by a detachable butt plug. The price was amazing and there was free shipping, so I ordered it. I had to pick the butt plug size and I checked 'medium' - I didn't want it popping out and making a mess everywhere, after all.

I got the delivery the following week, and it was exactly as shown online - the tail was so long and soft that I really enjoyed running it through my fingers. I could tell by her eyes that Becca was interested, even a little excited upon seeing her new outfit.

That all changed when I unpacked the butt plug. I mean, five centimetres doesn't sound like it would be very thick, right? But when I held it in my hand I knew it would be a challenge for my girl to accommodate, especially since her butt was almost virgin territory. A few times while she was grabbing her ankles I'd slipped a pussy-lubed fingertip in there, more to hear her grunt than because of any desire I had to explore her rectum. But that was all.

It also seemed kind of dumb that there was no lube included. I'd have to improvise.

I helped her dress in the ear, mittens and booties, and I have to say she looked adorable, especially when I decided she should be crawling. She was a fox, after all. Her bum jiggled as her knees moved on the thin carpet; spending eight weeks mostly in bed had made her a little flabby, I realized. The mittens didn't allow any finger movement, so it was me who spread a towel on the bed and directed her to her hands and knees on the mattress. She obeyed immediately, even though her eyes were fearful of what would come next.

I knew this would be a bit of an undertaking, so I washed the plug in the bathroom and carefully trimmed and filed the nails on my right hand to ensure there were no sharp bits. I played sports, so my nails weren't super-long anyway. I returned to the bedroom after twenty minutes with a few hand towels, a box of tissues, the plug, a little bowl of olive oil. Becca hadn't moved from her position, but looked back at me over her shoulder with trepidation.

I started by rubbing her back and rear end reassuringly, telling her I'd go slow and I wanted her to relax. She nodded her agreement and I heard her take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

I lubed a finger in the olive oil and slowly penetrated her ass as I continued to rub her bum with the other hand and whisper my encouragement. She sucked in air and clenched reflexively but I was gentle and in a moment my finger was all the way inside. It was a strangely welcome sensation to have my finger there - her back passage was tight and narrow, and the quiet grunt she made when I wiggled my finger inside her brought me an amused smile.

I spent a couple of minutes slowly working my finger all the way out and all the way back in again, drizzling more oil on her butt hole. Her sphincter gave me a lot of resistance at first, but soon it relaxed and my finger worked in and out easily. I also smelled her arousal in the air, and I lightly teased her about being my 'horny butt slut', which brought a little pink to her face, especially after I made her repeat it out loud.

Things escalated when I added a second finger. She gasped and looked back at me with pleading eyes, clearly not enjoying the stretching. I smiled gently and told her she was doing a good job, and to relax her muscles and let me work. To her credit, she tried. Still, it was at least two more minutes before my two fingers were penetrating her without resistance. The scent of her wet pussy didn't abate.

I debated adding a third finger, but three fingers were practically as wide as the plug itself so I decided to just go to the plug. And it was only the widest part of the plug that was five centimetres - once that was in, the neck of the plug was even thinner than my pinkie. So I figured it would be more comfy for my foxy girl if I could get the wide part over with as soon as possible.

I mean, I wasn't going to slam it in there all at once or anything, but it was probably good not to go too slow, right?

Unfortunately, when Becca felt the tip of the plug against her asshole, she really tensed up. I wasn't angry - this was new for us both and we were doing our best. I went back to two fingers and added more oil until she was loose again, but still the touch of the plug tightened her up. Well, maybe this was one of those "it always hurts the first time" situations?

I kept pushing gently but steadily, telling Becca in a soft voice to breathe deep and relax. She tried her best - she was making a real effort to be a good girl for me and I appreciated it. The tip of the plug penetrated her and she gave a barely audible whimper but didn't try to pull away. As we got closer to the wide part I dripped some more oil and gently rotated the plug as I pushed, figuring this would distribute the lubrication more evenly. Her breathing became deep and fast - she sounded like a woman in labour.

I worried that I was causing her too much discomfort, and decided the kindest thing to do would be to get it all the way in there so her tight hole wouldn't be so stretched. I applied more pressure, maybe a little too much in retrospect. But like I said, this was new for both of us.

The plug popped in all the way, pulling a strangled groan from Becca, but her breathing didn't return to normal.

"Oh, please take it out," she whispered, between forceful breaths.

I admit, I was a little disappointed that we'd just got it in and she already wanted it out. That wasn't the attitude I'd been hoping to see from her and it detracted from my enjoyment of the moment a bit. But when I sat back to see how it all looked, I couldn't be upset with her.

The look on her face was urgent and pained; she was obviously in some distress. But despite that, she hadn't moved, hadn't raised her voice and was making no effort at all to dislodge the plug. She just knelt there on her hands and knees, panting and begging through watery eyes. I realized then how far she'd come in just a few months. She not only accepted humiliation if it would please me, she now accepted pain if it would please me. Her desire to be my 'good girl' had overcome even her instinct for self-preservation.

Now, how could I be angry at THAT?

"Shh. You did really well. I'm so happy with you," I said, bending to kiss her on the forehead. She gave me a weak smile in response as her eyes implored me to remove the plug.

Instead I took some tissues and wiped the excess oil off my fingers, then wiped the oil away from the base of the plug and her buttocks. I retrieved the fox tail and gently fitted the elastic base over the flared end of the plug. I stood up and took a moment to admire her from all angles. She looked really cute with the soft, bushy fox tail hanging down between her thighs, the tip resting on the bed.

I retrieved my phone and took some pictures, and her smile for the camera was half-hearted but a good effort. I took a little video of her crawling through the apartment, uttering gasps and muted squeaks as the plug shifted and settled with every movement of her legs.

Finally, I had her back on the bed and from the relieved look in her eyes I could tell she knew the ordeal was almost over.

"Shall we remove your tail?" I asked brightly.

She nodded with great enthusiasm, almost dislodging her pointed ears.

"Or, does my adorable foxy girl want to grab her ankles as a treat for all her hard work?"

Indecision flickered across her pretty features. She'd heard the 'or', and knew she couldn't have both. It hadn't been too long since her last come - just a week or so. Normally, she'd be good for another week or two of denial.

"Let's have you wag your tail if you want a little treat," I said, my tone lightly teasing. Do foxes wag their tails when they're happy? They're basically dogs, right?

Another moment passed, then Becca lowered her head and gently rocked her hips back and forth, causing the tail to sway.

"Not really excited about it? We can leave the treat for another week if you like," I said.

THEN she began shaking that cute bum in earnest! Her tail danced eagerly between her slim thighs.

I chuckled and gave her the command she was desperate to hear. In no time, she was bent double, furry mittens resting on her booties, lubrication gathering and glistening between her smooth labia. I flipped her tail up over her butt to keep it from getting soaked.

My girl was just about perfect, and somehow got better every week!

*

Right from the first moment I'd seen her naked, I had enjoyed Becca's lean physique. Her legs and thighs were thin but shapely and muscular, her bum was tight and toned, her stomach flat and her tits barely more than fleshy swells on her chest, topped by disproportionately fat nipples. Her shoulders and back were strong and supple. Even her arms were wiry but not spindly. If she were a dog, she'd be a greyhound; sleek and graceful.

The idea that inactivity was making her flabby didn't sit well with me. After all, most of the reason I kept her naked was the pleasure I got from seeing her beautiful body. And I didn't ask her but I knew she would hate to think she was becoming less attractive to me. So I needed to take action, for both our sakes.

So throughout November and into December, her diet and exercise became more of a focus for me.

Diet was the easier of the two, since Becca could only eat what I provided. I began dialing back the carbs and sugars and boosting the protein. I also began to keep less food in the apartment, instead stopping at a grocery store on the way home from school to buy only what we'd need for the next two or three meals. Sure, it was less convenient for me that way, but the extra effort would be worth it if I could return her to her former lithe glory.

I'm sure Becca noticed the change but didn't dare say anything. She did become much more eager for dinner, though, since she wasn't able to snack during the day when I was at school. I made sure her two meals per day were nutritionally complete and had enough calories for a consistent-not-drastic weight loss regime.

I also implemented a daily exercise program for her to complete while I was doing my homework. I'd be in the bedroom studying and Becca would be in the hallway working up a silent sweat. I created a floor program that hit all the major muscle groups - calves, hamstrings, quads, glutes, abs, pecs, delts, traps and probably a few I'm forgetting. It wouldn't be fair to call the routine 'grueling', but it was definitely 'challenging', and for the first week or so, she was a very sore young woman.

Sometimes I paused in my studies to sit and watch her move, enjoying the way her muscles flexed, her small breasts quivered and her cute bum jiggled. My girl was a true beauty. Plus, I think she worked extra hard while I was watching, eager for my praise and enjoying the way my eyes drank her in.

By the third week of December our hard work had paid off; she'd dropped the weight she'd gained since moving in and maybe a couple of pounds besides that. More than that, the lines and graceful contours of muscle had become toned and more pronounced. When I was once again happy with the way her body looked I scaled back the exercise, instead putting her on a 'maintenance' program of diet and exercise designed to keep her in top form.

*

I guess my mom was kind of bummed when I told her I wasn't coming home for Christmas. Upset, really. I guess moms like to have their whole brood home for the holidays, and there was a part of me that really wanted to go. I had lots of great memories of Christmases past. It was a nostalgic time of year.

I told her I had to stay in Orillia and look after a friend who was confined to her bed, so mom could at least console herself that I was doing something kind. I doubt she gave it another thought after she hung up the phone.

And really, why would I go home and be mostly ignored by my parents and six siblings for two weeks when I could stay in Orillia and be absolutely worshiped by my girl? It wasn't a contest - I would take adoration and obedience over half-interested small talk any day.

I enjoyed the two week holiday. I picked up some casual hours at a gift-wrapping kiosk in a department store and earned a few extra bucks. After dark I'd return to my girl and we'd cook real food, stream movies and cuddle up in bed. I caught up on my sleep, got in a few long runs when the weather was nice, and was able to focus my mind and choose my next steps with Becca. The future was sparkling with possibilities!

Early on Christmas Day I video-chatted with mom and one of my older brothers - they were the only ones who bothered to come to the phone. Staying in Orillia had DEFINITELY been the right call.

And after that, I gave Becca her gift.

I should say first that originally, I'd planned to keep her pristine. No piercings, no tattoos, no adornments of any kind. I didn't want to mark her body, I wanted my ownership indelibly stamped on her mind, and was making good progress.

But when I saw the 'eternity collar' online, I knew immediately it needed to be around Becca's neck. A polished coil of black titanium that fastened with clever little screws that were practically invisible, giving the appearance of a single, smooth, unbroken circlet of obsidian. It could be worn in the shower and in bed, and was impervious to water, sweat and any other fluids that it might come into contact with. It cost more than two hundred dollars - the most expensive gift I'd ever given to anyone.

It shipped in a lovely black jewelry box, resting inside on a bed of crushed, white silk. I wrapped it in gift paper myself, and on Christmas Day I presented it to Becca as I sat on the edge of the mattress and she knelt on the thin carpet in front of me.

She seemed absolutely stunned at even receiving a gift, and got all weepy just from holding the gift-wrapped box in her hand. I knew from her email and social media posts that she hadn't received many gifts - her family was even more useless than mine and her so-called 'friends' growing up hadn't been much better.

"It's so beautifully wrapped," she whispered, looking up at me with adoring, teary eyes.

I reached down and stroked her cheek with my palm. She closed her eyes, enjoying the caress.

She opened it so carefully, worrying the scotch tape loose with her fingernail and gently peeling it away so the wrapping fell open. She gasped when she saw the box - it exuded luxury and high expense.

"Oh...wow," she breathed when she opened the box to see the dark ring of metal. She sounded truly awed.

"Do you know what it is?" I asked. Surely there could be no mistake. I'd seen the porn history on her phone - she was no stranger to the concept of a woman in a collar.

She nodded, and traced her index finger over the smooth, cool surface of the titanium. She seemed transfixed by it.

"Do you know what it means?" I brushed some stray hair away from her face.

She nodded again, lost in her own world.

I knew she loved me - she said it daily - but I'd never asked her how she perceived our relationship. Did she consider me her girlfriend? Mistress? Bossy older sister? Mother? Maybe some combination of those, or perhaps something else entirely? Would receiving a collar from me re-define our relationship in her mind, or would it reinforce what she'd already assumed?

"Tell me what it means," I prompted.

She looked up at me and there were tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She was smiling, overcome.

"I belong to you."

I cupped her chin and looked down into her eyes. "I want your body, mind, heart and soul. Always and forever. Do you accept?"

The words were melodramatic and, for all practical purposes, unnecessary. I already possessed her in every meaningful way and planned to further deepen and strengthen my control. I would position myself as the entire reason for her existence. But I knew how her mind worked, and knew the overblown, flowery declaration would move her.

"Yes, I accept."

"Do you pledge yourself to me?" I was making things up on the spot, mostly for her benefit.

"I do."

I reached down and took the box from her. "Lift your hair out of the way and I'll claim you properly."

She swept her long black hair up and away from her neck and I closed the metal ring around her neck and quickly screwed it shut. I'd sized it perfectly - there was just a tiny bit of slack between the collar and her pale, slim neck. It would never choke her or cause real discomfort, but she'd feel its presence constantly against her skin, every minute of ever day. Forever.

When she lowered her hair back into place her fingers went immediately to her new, permanent accessory; sliding over the smooth surface almost reverently.

"Do you have anything to say?" I asked.

"Just...thank you. I love you so much."

I bent forward and kissed her forehead, then each wet, salty cheek.

"Kiss my feet. Show me your submission," I said in a quiet but firm voice.

I couldn't help a gleeful smile as she pressed her lips gratefully to the tops of my toes.

*

It was late at night on Christmas Day. Gwen's head was in my lap, eyes closed. She breathed slowly through her nose, asleep, my right nipple held gently in her mouth. Around her neck was the slim, black collar.

I was scrolling through a few new social media posts when I saw an incoming email. I opened it, figuring it would be more of the spam she normally got.

It was Becca's mom.

She was out of prison. She was clean again. She begged for another chance to be the mother Becca had always deserved. Together, she wrote, they could rebuild those shattered bonds and become a family again. Please come home, she wrote.

I re-read the email, then looked down at my girl sleeping peacefully in my lap.

There was no chance I'd ever let her go. Becca was mine, permanently and entirely. By the time I was done with her, I would be the only thing she knew. I would be her purpose, her life.