"Another decision you can't make," Valerie said. "It's a good thing you don't have to make it. But I know what you would prefer. You can't be a man. That's obvious. But you are no where near having the right frame of mind. There is still something in you that makes you believe you still have a say in things. We can't have that, puppy."
The sudden change in Valerie's tone disturbed John/Frisky. What was he failing at now? He was chained down on all fours and at her mercy so what could he possibly be doing wrong? He was no good as a man. Now he's no good as a dog.
"You need to get over yourself, Frisky." She removed her gentle touch. "You need to get over that hump that's keeping you hanging on to your illusion of self-determination."
She rolled to her right leaving John/Frisky's head hanging in the air as she worked her way back to her feet. Perhaps it was time to get going as Valerie said they didn't have a lot of time. He labored to get himself upright once again as well.
The leash grew tight as Valerie had still held it fast. She wrestled him over in front of the full length mirror with an unexpected harshness. He occupied the lowest part of the mirror and behind him Valerie stood tall, imposing even. The dildo still bobbing loosely from the straps keeping it in place at her groin.
"It can be a dark world out there, puppy-dog," she said. "You know that. You're not fit to navigate any of it. You don't possess the necessary mental power to survive life as a man. Yet there is a part of you that still tries to influence outcomes."
Valerie dropped down to her knees behind him.
"What are you doing?" he asked. Now he could feel the rounded tip shake about his skin lining up with the valley between his butt cheeks. "I told you we're even. You don't owe me anything."
"Stop it! Do you really think I give a shit about a promise to a dog?" Valerie chuckled.
After a moment of silence she raised her voice. "Answer me!"
"N--no..." he answered as he could feel the hard plastic poke yet again around its target area. Instinctively he dropped his rear end down to avoid the invading jabbing.
"You still think you are a person. Someone of value." Valerie slowly leaned forward, her shirt and breasts sliding over the top of John/Frisky's back. Her hands fell forward to the floor to support her weight. Then with her right hand she reached under him and grabbed his scrotum. "Up, boy!" she instructed him.
The pain in his full testicles were sharp and jolting until he raised his ass back into the air.
"Good boy. Now," she said with a lower inflection from the back of her throat, "look. Look in that mirror at yourself. See what you are."
If there was a warning she did not clearly announce it to John/Frisky. Valerie's hips thrust forward driving the plastic phallus into his hole. There was no music, no light, no applause or significant dedicatory drama identifying this moment except the merciless spreading of his sphincter muscle.
Her right hand left his balls quickly reaching up and over to grab the back of his neck above the leather dog collar. If he had enough hair she would have grabbed it but instead dug her fingertips into the upper neck muscles, her nails threatening to puncture his skin. Valerie jerked John/Frisky's head violently. "Look!" she yelled into his left ear.
He did. His reflection was a sad representation of even his own poor self image. Round, metal mitts padlocked in place with chains running under him to his testicles and ankles. All of his own doing. More importantly the look on his face, the flare in his eyes representing the extreme bewilderment of his soul.
"See yourself for what you are," she said pulling out and then ramming forward again with enough force to push his head onto the mirror glass.
He was eye to eye with himself, his breath fogging up the mirror under his nose. His perplexed look broke into a shattered delusion of everything he was.
Valerie retracted a few inches then pushed forward again. She developed this into a smooth motion over and over. "Look at that. Your manhood ain't worth shit. Would a real man be in this position?"
Another two pounds inward and John/Frisky said nothing. "No," she said for him. "This time of day a real man is out working hard to provide a good living for his woman and family. But not you. No. You're bent over for my amusement."
She relieved the pressure on his upper neck moving her right hand down to his right hip. She continued the rocking motion. "This is a line you can't uncross, puppy."
It was true. He had never felt anything like this. If there was any joy in these activities he was yet to find it as it felt with each thrust the great bitch Valerie was stripping away his meager facade as a human man one layer at at time. All of the work he had done through life to project himself as a real person, to fit in and get along, to not be an embarrassment to his family, to forge human habits to fall back on when in doubt, to not be a dog/slave was being forsaken by her one, simple act. Emotional tears welled up in his eyes as the lie that was his life was torn down. He didn't recognize his own face in the mirror as it bobbed forward and back in rhythm with Valerie's hips.
"Frisky," her guttural, sultry voice said into his ear as she leaned all the way over him, "this is me owning you." The pounding of her thighs on his ass increased in speed and distance, forcing the end of the phallus deeper into his guts. He felt full, needing to relieve himself of a bowel movement.
She covered his entire torso with her body as if to swallow him up. He felt trapped, imprisoned under her, even claustrophobic. Dominated. Anything he might say or presume to have input in the matter would only infuriate her and drive the dildo even harder. He has been, is, and possibly always will be at Valerie's mercy.
"You're inferior," she said, "and your superiors will use you as we like." She pounded even harder three more times as she was tiring of her own intensity. "Understand?"
He did but the realization of the truth to her words retarded his efforts to speak. Why did it take a violent violation of his body to cause such a mental shift easing into his natural state of mind. His internal struggles ceased to exist, at least for now.
"Understand?" she angrily repeated.
But he didn't hear her, and if he did he no longer comprehended the meaning of the question. Tears dripped from his nose. His eyes were pleading to their own reflection to do something, to make it stop. But he couldn't. He was powerless. Helpless. He had let himself down, allowed this to happen. He was no kind of a man. He always knew it. This was happening and it will always have happened.
"I'll take you whenever I want, dog/slave. You are owned, an owned animal. I own you," she said with a few more hard insertions before finally pulling out.
