Heather Brandt whined and panted, working her purple vibrator frantically between her thighs as she squirmed in the guest bed of her home.
She shouldn't be doing this. Even in her current shameful circumstances, she could preserve some of her dignity if she just ignored what was happening in the master bedroom on the other side of the wall.
But Heather was finding it harder and harder to hold onto even scraps of dignity these days, and besides, listening to the passionate lovemaking of the two people currently occupying her marital bed was the best sexual stimulation she had access to.
Heather shook with shameful lust as she eagerly soaked in the sounds coming through the guest bedroom wall, pressing the buzzing vibrator against her sopping pussy. Jackie's breathy, pleading moans. Lucas's grunts of manly exertion. The slap of sweaty flesh. The fuck sessions taking place in Heather's usurped marital bed on a nightly basis were long, enthusiastic, and athletic. At least, Heather assumed they were based on the noises she heard.
Ever since Heather watched Jackie claim her husband through their bedroom window, she hadn't been allowed back into the master bedroom, so she could only imagine what Jackie and Lucas's sex looked like. Sometimes, in the dead of night when her desperate arousal felt like it was overwhelming, Heather considered trying to sneak out of the house to see if she could watch through the bedroom window again.
So far she had been able to resist. She hoped that she stay strong.
Jackie promised that if Heather could excel at the tasks Jackie set for her, she would earn her place back in the master bedroom. But that had proven... difficult. Jackie seemed to no longer have any interest in assigning Heather human tasks. All that she wanted to do lately was train Heather to be a better puppy.
Heather would sit, and beg, and roll over, and fetch for hours on end, usually with a finale of eating out her mistress's tight young pussy. But none of it gave her any chance to prove her worth and break out of the brutal cycle of humiliation and arousal that her bratty mistress had trapped her in.
After all, how could Heather prove she was worthy of being a human when all she did day after day was prove what a good little puppy she was?
The wall next to Heather made a rhythmic clunking sound as her husband's powerful thrusts pushed their martial bed against the shared wall with the guest room. Heather reached out her free hand, touching the wall and feeling the third-hand vibrations of her husband's passion as her other hand reached a fever pitch of her own, a pale echo of the erotic delights taking place without Heather in the other room.
Heather added her own miserable whimper to the loud cries of ecstasy coming from next door, squeezing her eyes shut as her thighs clamped hard around her vibrator, trying to imagine what the adulterous sex must look like. Her head filled with sordid, confused images of her handsome, broad-chested husband twined in passion with the slim, lovely minx that had thoroughly claimed him.
Finally, Heather slumped back as the marathon session next door went silent. She could hear the two lovers murmuring to each other, but as always, they were too muffled for her to make out the words. She wasn't sure she would want to know what they were saying even if she could.
There had to be some way out of this. Jackie had promised her that she would have a chance to prove herself.
Surely her mistress wouldn't lie about something like that.
...
Jaquelyn Song stretched like a cat, sighing contentedly as her eyes fluttered open to the early morning sunshine. Next to her, still tangled in the sheets they dirtied last night, was Lucas Brandt.
Jackie studied him critically. The bulky man was still dead to the world, his hairy chest rising and falling with gentle snores. What did Heather see in this man anyway? He was a little paunchy, his hair was already starting to thin on top, and he wasn't especially bright. He was decent in bed, and there was certainly nothing wrong with his equipment, but even in those areas, he was maybe a seven out of ten.
If Jackie walked past him as a stranger on the street, she wouldn't look twice.
But this whole project wasn't about what a prize Lucas Brandt was. It wasn't about Lucas Brandt at all. It was one hundred percent about Heather. Heather, the bitchy Karen who had tried to use Jackie as a pawn in her petty suburban games. Heather, who was, Jackie had to admit, a total fucking knockout with curves that wouldn't quit, yet had the self-esteem of a depressed preteen.
No, Jackie hadn't taken Heather's husband because she wanted Lucas Brandt. She had taken him because of the delicious humiliation it caused Heather.
With that in mind, Jackie jumped out of the plush king bed with feline grace, leaving Lucas behind. She grabbed one of Heahter's silk robes from the walk-in closet and headed down the hall, hoping to find the pathetic little cuckquean stewing in her usual horny misery.
She wasn't disappointed.
Heather was waiting for her mistress in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, her leg jiggling as she stared into the distance. After a moment, her slim fingers rose to run compulsively over the black leather collar Jackie forced her to wear, jingling on the brand new dog tag bearing her "puppy name".
"Good Morning, Daisy!" said Jackie cheerfully, strolling confidently across the dining room to pat Heather condescendingly on the head. "Who's my good girl?" It never got less amusing.. how Heather's eyes lit up from the praise, even though it was delivered in such a demeaning way. She even sort of nuzzled up against Jackie's hand. Acting like a dog had become second nature to her.
Heather looked nervously over Jackie's shoulder toward the master bedroom, but Jackie reassured her, "Don't worry, Daisy. My man is fast asleep. It's just puppy and mistress right now. Show me who's my good girl now, puppy."
