I am a bad puppy, coming to my Master without real training, or real devotion to the task of being a good dog. He took me for a walk in his fenced garden my first day, and I was very bad indeed. I picked up a flower I thought was pretty and handed it to him. Master was quick to point out the error of my action. Dogs didn't pick flowers. They might smell them or eat them, but the did not pick them up and say 'how pretty.'
Master spanked me with a plastic rod until I cried and then walked me back into the house, to think about my foolishness in my cage. I was still crying, watching his perfect leather form walk away. I had been a very bad dog, and had a lot of time to do my penance.
Why was I naked, with a red bottom, crying in a cage? I was a puppy-girl, or wanted to be. I had met Master at a party and told him some of my fantasies, how hot I got when wearing a collar and leash, playing in a cage, drinking from bowls on the floor. I liked being a dog. It was really kinky. Master said he could help me truly fulfill my desire. I had no idea just how very much I had to learn, or what I would become when Master had completed my training.
I whimpered when he left, my eyes following his tight ass as he walked out of the room, shutting and locking the door. I was alone, in my cage, with just a bowl of water for comfort. I was naked except for the collar, harsh leather around my throat, attached my a short chain lead to the top of the cage. I certainly couldn't stand up, or even comfortably sit up, and didn't have enough slack to really turn around.
I hated that he had left me. I knew I had done wrong, had done something human when I was supposed to be a dog, but this seemed unfair. My ass cheeks stung, and that at least I was happy about, though I was used to a good spanking being foreplay. I wanted sex. I didn't want to be alone.
I had been drawn to my new Master since I first saw him, looking like a cool ad for leather at Ted's party. He reminded me of an actor I used to fantasize about, and I had practically drooled on myself. Thick brown hair, gorgeous eyes, calling them brown just didn't do them justice, more like a warm golden honey. He had a slim build, muscled like a basketball player, and every bulge and curve had been hugged by soft black leather. I soaked my panties before even speaking with him.
I craved him, as a woman and as a slave, and needed him like air. I came here wanting to prove I was a good dog, that I could fulfill him as much as my lowly status allowed. Led by my pussy, I would do anything, be a bitch in heat or a playful puppy, to please him.
It should have been obvious, that I was really a good mutt. So why hadn't he stayed here with me, where I could show off my obedience? I would have far preferred a whipping to being stuck here alone.
I sighed, trying to get comfortable on my knees, and whimpered again. I thought about my misbehavior, seeing it a stupid mistake, but I had never had anyone object like that when I forgot myself. It was a game, a hot sexy game. I crawled and barked and licked and whined and then fucked however my Master pleased. My new Master seemed to have other ideas.
I was a dog, but apparently not good enough this time around. What could I have done differently? Would I still be with him if I hadn't liked that flower? Would I even now be licking his feet, or prancing for him, or getting a taste of a paddle?
I smiled at the lovely thought. I ground my ass against the cage, shivering and moaning. I was so hot, and only my Master could put out this fire, could give me what I needed.
I was going to be a better dog, and not forget myself again. I was a sub, and would trust that Master knew what was best for me, whether I liked it or not. He said I needed training, and I did want so much to be his puppy-girl slave.
I had asked Marcie about him before agreeing to meet with him, and she had assured me he had a good reputation, was pretty popular, and developed some very good slaves. I had even talked to one on the phone. She had seemed pretty sad, but had glowed in her adoration of her former Master. So here I was.
Waiting. And thinking. And trying to think about anything other than my burning clit. I had experience as a slave, and knew that pleasing myself without permission would get me punished. If all I expected was a whipping or a great spank, I would have done it. But being locked in this cage, in the dark empty room for hours on end, this I did not like.
I spent an uneasy night chained to the cage. I was angry at first, wanting to yell that I be let out, but dogs didn't yell, and I hadn't really thought I'd be left alone that long. I was wrong. Eventually, sleep and tears overcame me. I moaned fitfully, yanked awake every time I tried to turn, or roll over. I was stiff and achy and exhausted.
My dog collar was just not going to let me rest, and sheer frustration drew me to take it off. A cardinal sin among slaves, to remove the collar, but if he was going to leave me down here, I just had to get some sleep. I unbuckled it, rubbing my strained neck, and sighed. Finally. I curled up as comfortable as I could and passed out.
I slept fitfully, having a few nightmares about being chained in a cave, or beaten and then left down a very dark hole. I woke up shivering, sore, and feeling really stupid. How had I gotten into this? My Master was supposedly this great Dom, this paragon of training. What good could it do to have made me sleep like this?
I was apparently in it pretty deep, as the refilled water bowl and some oatmeal in another red bowl showed that someone had been down here. Which made me realize that I was out of my collar, and somebody knew about it. I moaned, knowing I was really in trouble, and got back up on my knees. I put my collar back on, again trapped on my short lead, but the damage was done. Why hadn't I been punished already? Or was still being in this cage my punishment?
There was no clock in the room, and my watch was wherever my clothes had gone, so I had no idea what time it was. I lapped at my water, and then ate the cold oatmeal, getting the mess all over my chin as I ate dog fashion. After breakfast, I looked around my cell, which seemed to be an overgrown closet made into a torture den. Something that looked like a homemade rack took up an entire corner in between stacks of boxes and bundles of old newspaper.
A stock with a padlock had a brace for locking head and wrists, as well as cuffs along a bar at the bottom to spread the legs. Hooks and rings were set in the right wall at intervals for chains and shackles. I could imagine myself strung up there, blindfolded and being flogged, and it was an arousing thought.
I didn't know how long I sat there, tucked like a good dog, playing scenarios in my head until I got restless. I was feeling cramped and starting to get bored. I wanted to play. I wanted to get out and crawl and prove I was a good girl and would please Master. I didn't want to be punished anymore.
After an eternity, I heard footsteps outside the door, then a key in a lock. My heart was hammering and I started to whimper and clamber about in the cage. Master! Oh please let me out.
He opened the door and walked into my cell, causing me to frown. He was wearing blue jeans and a gray pullover. He still looked gorgeous, but it was not an outfit I had ever seen him in. Weren't we going to play?
He didn't say anything as he took hold of the lead, jerking me up close to the cage bars and holding me there, my face pressed roughly against the metal. I didn't even squeak, afraid of doing something wrong. I was confused, sore, and I really wanted out. This didn't feel like a game anymore.
He reached towards one of the shelves and brought down a heavy braided leather leash, laying it on the cage as he unhooked the short lead from my collar. He released his hold on me to bend down and unlock the cage, then flung the door wide. "Out!"
I hesitated, seeing anger in his eyes, in the stiff way he towered over me, and shook my head. It was a mistake. He grabbed my collar and yanked me forward, scraping my knees and dumping me on the floor. I moaned, shaking with fear now, staring up at him as he fastened the leash to the ring on my collar and then jerked on it. I cried and get on my knees, terrified now and wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
I shivered, wanting to stretch my legs but not daring to move. He slapped the end of the leash across my backside and I winced.
"Are you useless, cur?"
He slapped my ass even harder, the smack of flesh loud and the sting more intense than I liked. Why wasn't he building up to it? Why was he striking so hard?
"Don't you know anything about being a dog?"
He struck both of my cheeks, setting my skin on fire and likely raising welts. It hurt so much I started crying.
