Doggie Style

"Time for your walk," Master announces. He's holding the collar and leash as he waits in the doorway.

She feels her face grow warm, but follows him wordlessly to the car. She struggles to stay quiet and still as they make the half-hour drive to the park.

He stops at the guard shack at the park entrance; she keeps her face averted, afraid to meet the ranger's eye. A minute or two later, he's back and the entry gate swings open.

The trails are usually deserted this time of day, but she checks the parking lot automatically. Theirs is the only vehicle.

Master parks the truck and she sits, waiting for instructions. She feels him studying her, feels the heat and wetness building between her legs.

She flinches when he reaches for the collar and leash. "Strip," he tells her. "I want you naked, like the slut you are."

She goes dizzy at the order, but begins slipping her clothes off automatically. He's only recently started making her walk the trails nude, and the experience still terrifies her.

She doesn't argue, though, not even as she tugs her panties, the last bit of clothing, down over her hips.

He opens her door and she steps down, ready to drop to all fours at his word.

She keeps her eyes focused on the grass beneath her feet. Another week or two, and it will be scorched brown with summer heat, but right now it's green and soft under her bare feet. She forces herself to focus on the cool air playing over her skin, the tightening of her nipples as they grow hard, not the weight of his stare.

"On your hands and knees, now. Hurry."

She drops to all fours and closes her eyes, bracing herself. A heartbeat later, the paddle lands the first blow on her upturned ass. Master strikes her hard and fast, twenty stinging blows across her bare backside. She doesn't make a sound, but tears stream down her face as he finally stops and fastens the collar around her throat. It's heavy leather, fur-lined, and she's dizzy with relief as he pulls it tight. She is free now. The leash is next. She hears the click as he clips it to her collar and tries not to blush at the sudden rush of wetness between her legs. She opens her mouth and he sets the coiled length of leather between her teeth. She'll carry it in her mouth for the entire walk, like a well-trained dog.

The plug is next. She bites back a groan as he pushes it in, forcing herself to relax and accept the invader as it's thrust firmly into her ass. The plug is a horror, decorated with a tail of braided black suede. She hates it more than anything, more than the paddle or the leash clenched in her teeth.

His hands drop to stroke and cup her bare breasts and her breathing grows ragged. He fondles her for a minute or two before his fingers close around her erect nipples to pull and tug at the tender flesh. She aches to feel his mouth, his tongue there. He moves to her side and runs one hand down the valley between her breasts and over her stomach, pausing to stroke her mound. He keeps her shaved bare, another mark of his ownership, and his touch makes her tremble. His fingers trace the folds of her pussy and he laughs at the wetness there. "You're dripping," Master observes, thrusting two fingers up into her heat. "Does your pussy need a good fucking, slut?"

She nods immediately, obedient and truthful. She wishes it were his cock thrusting into her, and tries not squirm.

He pinches her clit hard, then pulls his hand away. "I'll let you beg for it later if you're a good little bitch. I want you to stay a few feet in front of me. Keep that pretty red ass nice and high and wiggle your hips."

"Yes, sir," she mumbles around the leash. Her face is bright red and she struggles to breathe normally. He slaps her hard on her right ass cheek and she lurches forward, crawling on all fours toward the woods. She knows he's filming her with the tiny digital camera he keeps in his shirt pocket as she makes her way awkwardly along the trail.

"Lift that ass higher, slut, and get those hips moving. You'll have to show me what a slut you are if you want that pussy of yours fucked."

Her skin feels impossibly hot and tight as she thrusts her backside up and spreads her legs wider for him. She's never felt so exposed, so completely on display for him, not even when he's ordered her to masturbate for him. She swings her hips deliberately from side to side as they reach the trailhead and flushes as he chuckles.

"Very nice, slut. Keep that bottom wiggling for me."

She's grateful that the trail is packed dirt, not asphalt, as they make their way. The surface is warm, but not blistering hot, under her hands and knees. They always follow the main trail, which twists and turns for a little more than a mile, through the park.

On that first walk, he let her keep her clothes on, her denim skirt and T-shirt. She's never allowed a bra or panties.

She's overwhelmed, now, by how vulnerable she feels. Every brush of cool air over her skin, every swing of her hips, every slap of suede against her ass makes her blush and want to cry. She would feel safer indoors. She keeps her eyes focused on the ground, terrified to look up and see a stranger walking toward them.

She knows he would share her with whoever came along, offer them the use of her mouth or her pussy. He took her to a club once and shared her with the other couples at their table. She came for all of them as they stripped her and spread her open right there.

Her clit is throbbing for attention and her thighs are slick with her juices when they reach the clearing at the highest point on the trail. He tells her to stop and she halts immediately and waits for his instructions.

She hopes he's finally going to fuck her, maybe even let her come, the way he did on that first walk, when he tore shoved her skirt up around her waist as he plunged into her. . He made her walk balk to the car with her skirt bunched up like that.

"Display," he orders.

She doesn't let herself think as she leans forward until her forehead touches the ground. She spreads her legs as wide as she can and reaches back to grasp her ankles as she thrusts her ass high.

"Smile for the camera," he tells her, and she forces herself to grin around the leash as he zooms in for a close-up. He'll e-mail it to all his friends later. He keeps a photo album of her on the coffee table to show guests.

He adjusts the camera and fiddles with the focus.

"Let's go," he says.

Aching with frustration, she starts forward again, remembering to swing her hips.

In minutes, they come to a fork in the trail. If they veer left, they'll go up a hill toward the dog run. The path to the right will take them back to the trailhead.

This time, they veer left, and she ignores the sudden ache in her nipples.

The dogs start barking as they near the top of the hill. There are about a half a dozen of them, locked in a large wire cage. She panics for a second, wondering if Master will lock her in the cage with them, but he directs to a well-worn patch of ground several yards away.

"I think its time you got some exercise," Master says, and pulls a tennis ball out of his jacket pocket. He takes the leash off her collar and puts it in his pocket. "A good game of fetch should wear you out. Go get the ball like a good little bitch, or you'll spend the rest of the day in the cage with the other mutts."

He's never been this cruel. She's near tears as he tosses the ball into the weeds. By the fifth or sixth time she carries it back in her mouth and lays it at his feet, she's crying silently. He keeps throwing the ball farther away, telling her to scurry faster on her hands and knees after it. She knows he likes the way her breasts bounce as she hurries, likes the sight of her tail bobbing as she searches through the weeds for the tennis ball.

After about a dozen tosses, she hears the dogs barking again. Master pauses, looking over his shoulder, and calls out.

She freezes, wondering if whoever's coming can see her, kneeling there naked with the ball in her mouth and her collar pulled tight.

"Nice day for a run," a man calls.

"I've got a pretty little bitch here that needs some exercise," Master replies, and she wants to be ashamed of the sudden wetness between her legs.

She stares at the ground as the stranger approaches. She recognizes the dark green fabric of his trousers; he's one of the park rangers. "She is a pretty bitch," the ranger says. "Well-trained, too."

Master snaps his fingers and points to a spot in front of the ranger's feet. She blushes brick red and sets the ball there. The ranger chuckles and picks it up, tossing it a dozen yards away. She can hear the two men laughing as she hurries after the ball and she can barely see through tears of humiliation as she carries it back to the ranger.

Before he can toss the ball again, a second ranger joins them. "Playing fetch?" he asks amiably, and she starts to sob quietly as he takes the ball from his colleague. "Go on, girl. Go get it."

Another dozen tosses and she have exhausted, her arms and legs scratched and itchy from so many trips into the weeds.

"Does she do any tricks?" the second ranger asks, ruffling her hair as she sets the ball in front of him.

"Looks like she's ready to roll over and beg," his partner says, and the three men laugh.

She's panting and drenched with sweat when Master offers her to them.

They spend a few minutes examining her, running their hands over her breasts and bottom, laughing at the tail she's wearing. Then they're taking their places, the first ranger moving into position between her legs, sliding the tail out of the way, and telling her to lift her ass higher. The second ranger stands in front of her, holding her head as he rubs his crotch against her face. His cock is half-hard and he tells her to take into her mouth.

She unbuttons his trousers with her teeth, and then eases the zipper down, nosing through fabric until she has him in her mouth. She hears a rustle of fabric behind her and braces herself, breathing in hard as the two men enter her simultaneously, one filling her mouth, the other claiming her pussy.

The man behind her smacks her bottom sharply, encouraging her to work her hips up and down on his cock. The man in her mouth pulls her head back, forcing her to take him more deeply as he thrusts into her. "Take it, little bitch," he orders, voice ragged. His hands slide to squeeze her breasts.

She can't help but moan as they work her, one thrusting into her pussy as the other withdraws from her mouth. She loves being filled like this, loves the way the cock being jammed into her pussy drives the ass plug even further into her body. The man in her mouth begins playing with her nipples, worrying them between his fingers. A third hand slips between her legs and she spreads herself wider as skilled fingers strum her swelling clit.

Her lips close around the bulbous head of the cock in her mouth and she runs her tongue around the sensitive underside. A coil of heat is building in her center, growing tighter as she's fucked senseless. The man in her mouth groans and she knows he's close to coming. The fingers on her clit tease her closer to orgasm and the man in her pussy begins torturing her, withdrawing completely from her before plunging back in, his erratic rhythm leaving her frustrated.

"Want it, little bitch?" he taunts her. "Come and get it."

She whimpers, needing so badly to come, and he laughs and slams into her, tweaking and pinching her clit as she works her hips desperately.

The man fucking her mouth screams and jerks, and a hot spurt of cum fills her mouth. She swallows frantically, then whimpers as another pinch to her clit sends her careening into orgasm. Her body spasms and she rides the cock in her pussy shamelessly, milking it hard until he groans and slams into her again, coming in two or three long spurts.

She's almost too weak to support herself when they finally release her, but Master hasn't given her permission to collapse. So she kneels, exhausted and sticky with cum, on the grass while the two rangers zip themselves up. When they leave, Master clips the leash back onto her collar but holds onto it himself. He picks up the tennis ball and holds it in front of her and she automatically takes it in her mouth.

"Time to go home," he tells. "Good girl. Heel now."

And he leads her back down the trail. They pass a few hikers who stop and stare at the sight of her, naked and leashed and carrying the tennis ball in her mouth. She should be humiliated, but she's beyond that now, too exhausted to care.

When they reach the parking lot, he leads her to the back of the truck. Surprised, she watches him release the tailgate. "Up you go," he says, patting the bed of the truck. "Lie down like a good little bitch."

Tears sting as she climbs up and stretches out along the cold bed liner. "I'll have to put a blanket back here for you," he muses as he ties her leash to the side of the truck. "Next time."

He closes the tailgate and walks away. As he starts the engine, she closes her eyes and begins daydreaming about their next walk.