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Living the Dream

I rotate my shoulders and sigh as I walk up the garden path. Work was awful today. Meetings, meetings, interdepartmental pissing contests, a major client pulling a huge contract without any explanation thus causing the usual round of the management blame game... bleh. Well, whatever. I'm home now... with all that entails.

She's waiting for me just inside the door - waiting, as expectantly as any dog. Kneeling, beautiful, naked... save for the collar and the broad, black leather cuffs with the dangling O-rings that adorn her wrists and ankles. She greets me as I step inside and close the door behind me, and my cock hardens as she calls me "Master." It always does, without fail, no matter how many times I hear it. She helps me out of my shoes, and I pet her on the head. She practically purrs at my touch - but I can't say that out loud. She'd pout and go "I'm not a kitty!" like she always does.

After such a day, though, I've got some frustrations to work out before anything else. Once I've discarded my jacket, I order her to bend over the dinner table. She complies, swiftly and without hesitation, as always - shaking her ass invitingly. I pull her arms behind her, and lock her wrists together with a click. Where's the spreader bar? I last used it... oh, she's tied it up while I was at work, of course. There. Click it onto her ankle restraints, and widen it. Licking my lips, I admire the beautiful sight for a bit. Then I pull off my belt and go to work.

I bent it in halves at first, whipping it across her buttocks, watching them jiggle under the impacts as she makes short, breathless moans. Her pussy is drooling, making her inner thighs glisten. It probably started before I even entered the door. Line by line, her ass is reddened by the belt's caress, and a grin grows on my face. She's writhing, now, as the sensation grows more intense. Her pants are growing more pained. I pause and regard her ass for a bit - almost glowing, by now. Solidly red in the middle of each orb, with the sharper lines of the belt visible in several places along the edges.

I glance around. The bit gag... right, on the coffee table, where it belongs. I quickly fetch it, and lean over her to strap it onto her face. She moans lustily as she feels my bulge rub against her groin. "Not yet, my dear..." I whisper as I attach the gag. "Now, bite down. I'm going to mark you." A shudder that is half fear, half arousal runs through her, and her teeth sink into the rubber. I step back - then a bit further back. The belt is straight in my hand, now - no longer bent. A long, broad whip. I lash out with it, not with full strength, just making sure that my aim is true. The tip walks across her right cheek, leaving a red mark that remains vaguely visible even against the existing redness. She jumps slightly in her restraints, and a moan escapes the bit gag.

The next stroke is stronger. The one after that, just about full strength. The dark red lines are clear and distinct. Again and again, I whip her. A full ten strokes, counting the first, testing one. She cries and whimpers and struggles against her restraints, but I buy quality. Ten lines cross-cross her shaking ass. They'll remain long after the rest of the redness has faded - fine bruises, maybe even welts. With a satisfied sigh, I pull the belt back on, sliding it through the loops in my trousers even as I undo their front. My cock is eager to escape its prison, rock-hard and throbbing - my desire has risen steadily throughout the belting. I pull it out through the open fly, and step up to her again, leaning over her.

There are tears in her eyes and in her cheeks, and her body is still shaking. She's panting choppily through the gag. I slide my cock between her legs, rubbing it against her pussy lips, feeling the wetness. With one hand, I smear more of her juices across my shaft, lubricating it. With the other, I caress her sore ass cheeks, feeling the heat on them, enjoying the way they tremble even at that light touch. "Do I need to remind you of your duty?" I ask sternly as I step slightly back again, my cock now wet and glistening. She takes a couple of deep breaths through her nose - then reaches down, the chain between her wrists clinking slightly - and grips her pained buttocks, pulling them apart, revealing her wrinkled, brown asshole. It winks invitingly at me, and I am not slow to answer that invitation.

The rough fabric of my trousers rub against her sore buttocks as I thrust my cock into her ass in one smooth movement. Her sphincter stretches around my girth with the ease of long familiarity, and the moans that filter through the bit gag change in pitch. I begin to pound away, mashing my hips into her fingers and cheeks, while leaning over her to gently grip her neck. Not squeezing as hard as I could have, just enough to make it a decent handhold as I flexed my hips back and forth. Just enough to let her feel it, and remind her of her total helplessness.

She shakes and shudders underneath me as I fuck her, accepting everything I have to give - the pain in her ass cheeks, the pressure against her throat that grows as my orgasm approaches, and finally my cum in the depths of her ass. My muscles harden in the moment of climax, my legs pushing me forwards as hard as they can, my fly digging into the tender skin surrounding her sphincter, my fingers closing more tightly than before. Her stifled moans are cut off for a few short seconds, before I master myself and relax my grip.

Sighing with satisfaction, I step back, pulling out. Her ass gapes briefly in my absence, a red imprint from my fly flanking the juicy crater before it pulls itself back together again. My cock hangs gleaming, still semi-hard, as I quickly crouch down and release her feet from the spreader bar. Taking another step back, I wait for a few heartbeats to see if she'll need another reminder. She doesn't. Breath whistling through her gag, she pushes herself up from the table, hands still chained behind her, but at least finally allowed to release their grip on her sore ass. Turning around on her heels, she descends smoothly to her knees and looks expectantly up at me, her eyes still wet with tears from the earlier whipping.

I reach down and remove the bit gag. As soon as it is out of the way, she leans forwards and engulfs my chubby, semi-hard cock with her mouth, sucking passionately on it. Her tongue caresses the shaft and the head, diving under my foreskin, cleaning it fastidiously. She probably cleaned her ass carefully just before I came home, as she always does if I don't order her otherwise - but watching her so lovingly suck on a cock that's still warm from her ass nonetheless makes me begin to harden back up again.

Soon after, she leans back, her duty done, a string of drool briefly connecting her plump lips to my manhood. "Good girl..." I mumble, patting her on the head, and she beams up at me through the tears. I help her up, undo the chain that bound her hands behind her, and walk her over to the couch where I let her sit on my lap and hold her tight for a while as she shakes in my grip. The whipping was a bit harsher than our play usually gets without being an outright 'punishment,' and carrying through with her usual orders in the aftermath took something out of her. There are more tears, but not many, and I kiss them away when they do appear.

Once I'm sure she can manage without me for a few minutes, I leave her briefly to go change out of my work clothes and into something more comfortable - for cuddling, among other things. I hold her for a while longer after that, as we chat about my day, about what to have for dinner, about this and that. Her voice soon grows firm and playful again. Once I'm confident that she's all the way back to normal, I give her a kiss and order her down between my legs again with a lopsided grin. Realizing that she still has a duty to carry out, she complies.

She doesn't care much for this, not yet. In time, I hope it will grow on her. For now, she seems to enjoy the way my hands rest possessively on her scalp, fingers intertwining with her hair, holding her in place as she gently sucks on my soft cock, and the piss pours down her throat. She swallows it without complaint, at least, and is clearly growing better at it, not struggling to choke it down like she once did. I enjoy that, in and of itself - watching her grow and learn, becoming ever-better at serving my needs and desires.

Once my bladder is empty and her duty thus complete, I shoot her an assessing glance and then pat the couch beside me. Used to be, she had to run and wash out her mouth every time she'd finished that particular duty, but I've been weaning her off that. Forcing her to wait at least a while, getting her more used to the taste. I might have been inclined to let her off this time if she seemed to be struggling after the earlier play, but... she's fine. I can tell, by now.

She joins me on the couch without complaint, and I hug her as we continue our interrupted conversation. My hands stray often to toy with her nipples or her cunt, as they tend to - and she moans and gasps, breath catching in her throat as I tease her. Eventually, I send her off to grab a drink for me in the fridge, implicitly allowing her to grab something herself and wash the taste of my piss out of her mouth.

A night on the town. I didn't feel like cooking, and that is one_regard in which she cannot serve me. One skill she's never developed. Ah well. I'd been wanting to check out the new steakhouse down town, and heck, it's _Friday. We talk and laugh across the candlelit table. Service is slow, but who cares when the company is sparkling? She looks gorgeous in the dress I picked out for her. I catch a few jealous looks from other men, and treasure them. She's obviously younger than me - looks younger than she really is, even - but not quite in the 'could be father and daughter' bracket where it turns 'creepy' instead of just 'lucky.'

Of course, they cannot see the angry red welts that cover her ass underneath the dress, applied with the rattan cane shortly before we headed out. Nor the large plug in her ass, nor her complete lack of panties. Their eyes do not see that her charming, color-coordinated choker is a collar, that her dazzling armlets have hidden attachment points for a chain. I love the fact that only I can see the_true_ her, while the rest are merely glancing at the - admittedly very pretty - surface.

As we leave the restaurant, I push her into a corner and kiss her, forcefully, her body melting instantly against mine. With my body obscuring her from the street, I can sneak one hand behind her, lifting her dress to caress her bare bottom, teasing the base of the plug. She trembles as I rotate it inside her, her fingers digging into my back, kissing me with growing intensity. I grip the broad base and, as she stiffens against me, pull the plug out. The night air caress its lubricated surface briefly before I start to push it back in, pushing harder and harder, tormenting her sphincter. Her moans and shrieks are silenced by my mouth as I work it in - and finally, her sphincter snaps shut around its base again as she shudders.

I let her dress fall down again and step back, her arms releasing me only with reluctance. Just a couple, kissing in a corner after a lovely date. Her face is flushed, but it is dark - who will notice? That or the fact that her inner thighs are drenched well below the hem of her dress. Or the way she walks a bit funnily afterwards. If anything, the casual observer would probably put down the flushed face and odd gait to a glass of wine too many.

Today, she is my innocent daughter, and I am her lusty 'Daddy' - corrupting her, teaching her 'how to be a woman,' taking advantage of her filial love for me to push her into a sordid and forbidden relationship. She's earned it, after all. She's been good this week. She mewls cutely and hugs a large stuffed animal as I fuck her clean-shaven pussy. Later, she obediently tries to suck my cock, but oh, she is inexperienced, clumsy, treating it more like a long lollipop than anything else. Eventually losing my patience, I throw her down on her back with her head hanging over the side of the bed, her hair brushing the floor - I have not allowed her to get it cut for quite a while - and mount her face.

I fuck her throat without restraint, my balls slapping against her nose, using her tits - too large, really, for the role she is now playing - as handholds. Her hands grip my arms or push against my hips, but she is just a little girl - what can she do against the desires of a grown man? Eventually, my hands migrate to her throat, so fetchingly laid bare by this position, and even the pretense of resistance fades as I grip it tightly, feeling it struggle with my girth. I watch her chest heave with one eye even as my pleasure rises, making sure that her breathing doesn't grow _too_irregular. I know she wouldn't fight me, even if she was passing out.

I take her as close as I dare, pushing all the way in as I cum - blocking her throat completely as I shoot my seed directly down her gullet, cheating her out of the taste. My hands tighten, fingers digging into her throat, increasing the pressure on my cockhead - just to let her feel it; it makes no difference while my shaft is obstructing her windpipe anyway. I count the seconds, then pull back, leaving her gasping and coughing for air, tears in her eyes. There's a large wet spot on the sheets between her legs, proof of her arousal.

Soon, she has recovered, and quickly slips into character again - turning the tears into childish crying at my 'meanness,' but daddy is in a mood - I point to the wet spot, accusing her of wetting the bed like an infant, telling her that I've clearly been too lax with_discipline._ Then she is over my knee, held in place by my grip while my right hand pummels her buttocks. An open-handed spanking wouldn't normally have that much impact on such a well-trained masochist, whatever role she happens to be playing right now, but fortunately I left my spanking glove on the bedside table before we started, for just this occasion. The subtle black leather allows me to strike harder and faster than I normally would have, protecting my hand while adding extra impact to her ass. Glowing red hand-prints soon sprout on the milky white buttocks.

After the spanking, my 'little girl' is suitably cowed. She obediently gets on all fours as I mount her from behind, pushing her face into the pillow. I fuck her pussy, then her ass, while telling her that she should be happy that a grown man would be so interested in her, even using her 'dirty hole' - telling her that she will be sleeping with me tonight, from now on. It is her duty as my daughter to take care of me, isn't it? It's not my fault that the way she kept showing that nubile young body of hers off to me made me want her to serve me in a different way. She moans into the pillow, her ass pushing back against my thrusts - too into it by now to care about maintaining some kind of false reluctance. "Yes, daddy, please, daddy..." she groans. Her hands sneak up under her body, and soon she is vigorously rubbing her clit even as I fuck her ass.

My hand whips out, hitting her cheek with stinging force and snapping her head sideways. She gasps and staggers as I shake my head sadly. "Such a foolish misstep..." I chide. "I thought I had trained you better than that." She licks her suddenly dry lips as she straightens up, her right cheek red. "I'm sorry, Master... please forgive me..." she mumbles, eyes downcast. I click my tongue. Did she really make a mistake, or was it deliberate? A request for rougher treatment, harsher punishment? I can't always tell. I'm not sure she can, either. Still, whether it's what she wanted or not... she's about to get it.

As fear and arousal war in her eyes, I lock her hands behind her back and fasten the leash to her collar. Pulling her along, I head into the basement. She struggles to handle the stairs with her hands tied behind her, but I am ready to catch her if she should stumble - not that I can show that right now. Now is the time to be stern and severe. I flick the light switch, and illuminate our miniature sex dungeon. The 'furniture' was expensive, but oh so worth it.

I blindfold her and tie her down to a bondage rack, bent backwards, fastened in place. Leather bands ring her hips, waist, arms, wrists, legs, thighs... she can hardly move a finger. Her legs are kept straight, spread, bent downwards over the edge - pushing her groin forwards and upwards, presenting it splendidly. I tighten the strap around her neck a bit more. Not enough to really choke her, but enough to give her some pleasure - just to counteract some of what is about to come. The inflatable gag fills her mouth to capacity. She's a screamer - whether in pleasure or in pain - and even down here, it's worth being careful. It's never a good look if some passerby hears muffled cries of agony filtering up from your basement.

I start in on her pussy with the flogger. Just to ease her into it. Her labia redden under the impact, and she writhes as much as her bonds allow. Writhes in pleasure, that is - presumably wondering if she's really going to get off as lightly as it seems. She isn't. Soon, the flogger is replaced by a paddle. Suede leather on one side, solid wood on the other. Dozens of strikes with the 'soft' - then dozens of strikes with the hard, and now the writhing is changing character, as her labia turn dark red from the repeated impacts.

I'm still just getting started, though. The riding crop is next, a harsh and shocking impact, striking again and again. Every blow hits squarely on the vulva - her thighs and belly remain untouched, unmarked. I stop for a moment and consider my handiwork while listening to her breathing rapidly through her nose. Dark red, almost purplish in places. There'll be lingering bruises when the general reddening fades. Good enough. With care, I fasten four clamps in the sore and swollen labia - two on each side - as a pained whine makes its way through the inflatable gag. Elastic bands connect the clamps to designated attachment-points on the rack, beside her hips. Her pussy is pulled wide open, like a blooming flower, showing its pink and so far unblemished insides. Above, her clit hides sensibly under its hood, seeking what shelter it can find.

I start with the flogger again, now caressing the sensitive inner labia. She's writhing in pain, whining, breath choppy. There's fear in it, too - she knows what's coming, now. First the flogger, then the paddle - smacking into moist tissue with an interesting sound. Its hard outlines and length makes it particularly rough on her clit - even within the hood, it no doubt feels those harsh impacts just fine. Meanwhile, the clamps continue to dig into her already tortured outer labia, and the elastic bands pull at them cruelly. No other part of her has even been touched. Just the softest and most sensitive one.

Both sides of the paddle gets its turn - then, the crop. Its smaller head makes it ideal, here - the clit gets to rest, at least, as the stinging blows now rain down on the gaping pussy hole itself. The pink gradually darkens. She struggles, whimpering through the gag, but the restraints are solid. Her legs cannot move a millimeter - she has no way to protect her pussy from my brutalization. Finally, I lower the crop. Her inner pussy isn't quite the same tormented shade as the outer bits reached, but then that's hardly possible anyway. Her body relaxes somewhat, despite the no-doubt significant discomfort she's still in - at least it is over, now!

Her whole body strains against the restraints, a muffled scream emerging from the mouth-filling gag, as the thin cane lands on her inner labia. The surprise no doubt added significantly to the stinging impact, for all that I wasn't swinging wholeheartedly. A second blow lands on the other side, drawing a second, sharp line. A third goes right down the middle, hitting her already-battered clit squarely. Her body jumps with each, and I feel happy for the inflatable gag - nothing less could have silenced those screams.

With a glance at her shaking body, I put away the cane. The clamps are removed from her outer labia, letting them flop back into place as renewed cries are silenced by the gag - they'd been on there long enough to cause significant pain when circulation returned, on top of everything else. I quickly undo the restraints, one by one, and pull her up from the rack and into my arms. Her blindfold is wet with tears, and I gently remove it while she shudders and cries continuously, hugging me tightly, her fingers digging into my back with almost painful intensity. I talk quietly to her, telling her that I love her, that she took her punishment well, that she is forgiven. That she is my girl, and that I will take care of her. The words, I think, matter less than the tone. Her legs are tightly closed now, and I have little doubt that pain is still radiating from her pussy, brutalized inside and outside as it is.

I get an arm under her knees, and as she continues to hold me tight and sob, I lift her from the cold floor and carry her over to the bed. It's a kinky sort of bondage bed, with attachment points and other tricks, but at a time like this all that matters is that it's soft. I ease her into the sheets, holding her, cuddling her, continuing to whisper sweet nothings. Between sobs, she promises me that she'll be a good girl, and never do anything bad ever again. I smile and reassure her that of course she won't, she'll always be my good little girl. Wondering, as I stroke her hair, holding her head against my chest, how long it'll be before the next "accident."

Her eyes sparkle as I lay out the 'costume.' "You've really got him for the whole week, Master?" she asks eagerly, still not quite believing it. I chuckle and nod. Most of the week is holidays, anyway, and the last few I've just taken off from work - as most do, though probably for different reasons. "Indeed, my sweet. All week." I take off the cuffs on her ankles and wrists. The collar stays on, of course. It is removed only briefly, for cleaning and such. The name tag glimmers next to the attachment-ready o-ring. The new outfit replaces the cuffs. It's quite a sight, making me lick my lips as I regard it. Once she's fully decked out, I nod. "Right. Get used to it for a bit, while I go pick him up."

Half an hour later, I return along with Clegane. Clegane is a Mastiff of a local breed, hugely muscled and named after a character from a popular show - not inappropriately, either. I've made several bids on him, but the owners refuse to sell at any price - rental, however, is another matter, and I've got him for the whole week. He sniffs with interest as soon as we walk in the door - where, sure enough, she is waiting, paws raised in a pleading fashion.

Paw gloves cover her hands, sealed at the wrists - rendering her normally nimble fingers into clumsy appendages, unable to even remove the mittens themselves. Special knee protectors not only protect_her knees, but also prevent her from straightening her legs. The paw shoes are consequently designed to be pulled along as she crawls on her hands and knees, not walked on. A doggy ear headband is on her head, complementing her collar nicely as she pants. As long as the headband is on, she is forbidden from speaking - she can whine, cry, howl, bark, and generally make any noise save human speech, but any breach of this rule is _strictly punished.

The tail is particularly nice touch - the result of a fair bit of customization, and the combining of two different, purchased 'toys.' Originally, the tail itself - a fancy type, with a flexible core that can be bent into a desired shape - was attached to an anal plug. But fetching though that was, it... got in the way, somewhat. So I transferred it to the gray-furred harness she was now wearing - a harness that encircled her waist, while exposing rather than obstructing both of her holes. It parted around her anus, nudging her ass cheeks aside with its tightness, and then edged her thighs as it rose to reconnect to the main belt. Attached to these straps were gentle, high-friction, low-pressure clamps, which were currently locked around her labia - holding them spread wide with a minimum of discomfort.

Clegane approaches her eagerly, snuffling, his nose homing in on the spot between her legs. He's familiar with her scent from earlier visits - and well-trained. He knows what to do. I grin down at her as she shudders, moaning slightly when his cold nose brushes against her clit. "There's my good girl..." I coo at her, patting her head. "Now, why don't you greet your mate properly, hmm?" She barked happily, and complied - coming down on her paws and knees, crawling away from the floor and onto the rug. Clegane followed merrily, nose twitching, his canine cock already emerging gamely from its sheath.

The first time, it had taken a lot of careful preparation. She'd wanted_it, I knew that, but she'd developed a bit of a mental block about it too... for _some reason. Almost like it was some kind of huge taboo or something. Weird, that. Well, I managed to break through it... and by now, after a few 'visits' from Clegane, there was no reluctance or hesitation left in her. She waved her fake doggy tail in the air along with her bum as she bent her arms, resting her head and tits on the carpet and giving the large Mastiff a clear shot at her spread-open pussy.

He mounted her easily - used to human bitches. His cock - bright red, tapered at the tip, already sporting the bulge that would soon swell into a full knot - sought its target, poking at her groin. The spreader harness ensured that he had an easy target, fortunately, and after mere moments, he surged forwards while she gasped and groaned. As the hound bottomed out and eagerly began to pound her, I pulled off my shoes - alas, I had no slave to do it for me at the moment, only an adorable pet - as well as my jacket, and went to change out of my street-clothes and into a comfortable pajamas, suitable for romping around on the floor with the pets.

Clegane was fully engaged as I sat down on the floor in front of them. His hips were a moving rapidly, thrusting away, breeding her. Her spread outer labia meant that he couldn't achieve a proper tie despite his swollen knot - but he'd been trained for this, and knew to slow his thrusts instead of just following his instincts and resultingly falling out. Every thrust, thus, forced her inner labia to stretch around the intruding knot as it went in and out, in and out.

She was trembling and moaning as I lifted her head from the carpet, eyes glazed with lust. "You really are a bitch in heat, aren't you?" I chuckled at her as I freed my cock from the loose restraints of my pants. She grinned wordlessly, panting in a most suitable manner. Pushing myself forwards, I presented my raging hard-on to her. "Come here, girl... I've got a treat for you..." I said softly, and she instantly pounced on my manhood. Sucking and licking it as the dog carried on.

She was my pet for a week - the longest we've ever done it. Eating and drinking from bowls on the floor, alongside Clegane. Scratching and whining at the bathroom door when she needed to go. In the still of the warm spring night, I'd take both of them for 'walkies' in the yard, hidden from prying eyes by the tall fence. She'd raise her leg to mark the trees alongside the hulking mastiff. At night, she'd roll up in the large basket she shared with him, snuggled into his canine embrace. And yet, every morning, I'd wake up to find her snoozing in_my_ bed, where she most certainly wasn't allowed. A firm wake-up spanking was the penalty for this trespass... _surely_enough to keep her from doing it again!

For a week, she crawled on the floor, both holes fully exposed, forbidden human speech. She could do nothing but pant, whine and moan whenever I or Clegane availed ourselves of this implicit offer, as we both frequently did - one after the other, or both at the same time. Her ass was still tight enough for him to tie with it properly - his large knot sealing him in place beyond her sphincter as he reached his climax and pumped his thin, hot doggy cum deep into her ass. Then he'd do as his instincts bade him - not, in this case, countermanded by his training. Jumping off her back, swinging one leg over it, and finally standing ass-to-ass with her as their tails crossed. He was bigger and heavier than her - and far stronger. So there was little she could do by whine and yelp whenever he decided to go investigate something while tied together like that, dragging her behind him by their connected groins.

Aside from sharing her with the large dog - as I indeed did on multiple occasions and many configurations - it was also great fun to just push her down on a whim, using her body as I pleased while she yelped and moaned, just a dumb beast at the mercy of her owner. I could often take her ass without any preparation - their respective body shapes meant that Clegane almost always found her ass, not her pussy, if she wasn't careful to bend at the waist first and thus give him a better shot at the other hole. His canine cock, fortunately, self-lubricated... and his frequent attentions meant that I was, as likely as not, to find her sphincter freshly-stretched and lubricated by his thin, watery cum. Ready to take my cock immediately and without warning...

For the duration, she treated her 'mate' just as lovingly as she did me... readily cleaning his cock after every mating, regardless of which hole he'd used. Any time he approached her head instead of her rear while sporting a hard-on, as he did more often than not, she obediently sucked him off to completion, swallowing his load without spilling a drop - just as well-trained by now as her fellow pet. And while she buried her head in his furry lap, her ass would wave invitingly in the air, reminding me of the two unoccupied holes she was sporting there.

But, in the end, the week ended, and I regretfully returned Clegane to his true owners, the rental period ended. Returning, I fucked my obedient pet-girl one last time - pushing her face into the floor with a growl as I took her from behind, enjoying her wordless mewls, her mute obedience. Only then did I remove the outfit, with the headband going last of all - leaving her, for the time being, with nothing but her collar.

Pulling her onto the couch with me - where she hadn't been allowed as a pet-girl, not that that had ever stopped her - I snuggled with her as she worked her fingers, rubbed her knees, and cleared her throat. "A week as a pet... too much?" I asked lightly, and she replied - with words, for the first time in a week. Her voice was a bit rough as she laughed. "Not at all, Master. I would do a_month_ if you could get him for that long... oh... Daddy!_Can I have a _puppy?" It wasn't actually a Daddy-day, but under the circumstances, I was inclined to let it slide - instead playing along and telling her "Maybe, babygirl - if you're very_good..." Meanwhile, the possibility bounced around in my head. How hard would it _really be to raise a pup appropriately?

She was begging for release... at least, I'm pretty sure that's what she was trying to do, around the gag. Well, no surprise - she'd been riding the Sybian for three hours now, with it rotating between the 'low' and 'medium' setting periodically. Enough to keep her on the fine edge, and certainly long enough to render her pussy and clit exquisitely sensitive. But not enough to actually get her off. She was rocking back and forth, as much as her restraints would allow, as if she was trying to apply just that bit more stimulation by rubbing her no-doubt sore cunt against the pleasure machine's spine.

"Don't worry..." I teased her as I patted her on the head, wiping some of the sweat from her brow. "You've already handled three hours... only five more to go!" I grinned as she struggled with her bonds, loud yet incoherent noises emerging from around the edges of the large ball gag that filled her mouth. Her eyes were wild. Still grinning, I kneeled down to put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, relax, I was just teasing you... I wouldn't do that to you." I reassured her, and she deflated somewhat, panting. "Actually..." I continued, reaching for the machine's controls, "Your torment is at an end! Or... the first part, anyway."

Once I toggled it to the highest setting, she came almost immediately, screaming her orgasm through the gag. She came again twenty minutes later, her scream more pained by then. The third and final of the forced orgasms took over half an hour to reach, and her whole body was drenched in sweat and shivering by then. Only then did I release her from her bonds and pull her up off the machine, leaving behind a small lake of her free-flowing juices. The machine, of course, was designed to handle such leakages - and as for her, she was soon recovering in my arms. "Of course, you understand that that was your allowance for the next two days as well..." I whispered to her once she had stopped shaking. A tremor that was clearly renewed arousal rather than the aftereffects of the long ride shook her. "Yes, Master..." she whispered back, eyes coyly downcast.

Today, I'm a cruel and violent rapist, and she is my latest innocent and unsuspecting victim, grabbed off the street with brutal suddenness. Throwing her body over my shoulder, I carry her into the bedroom as she impotently flails her fists at my back, throwing her down on the bed. In a leap, I'm astride her, weighing her down with my larger, stronger body. Grabbing her wrists, I gather them in one hand, holding them firmly aside as she struggles and screams at me - though not, fortunately, as loud as she could. Any sound insulation has its limits, after all.

I slap her, full force, imprinting my free hand on her cheek and throwing her head sideways. She's stunned, briefly - then her head begins to roll back and her mouth opens to shout at me again. Another slap. Another. Another. Finally, her mouth stays shut, jaws vibrating, tears in her eyes as I leer down at her. "Finally got the message, eh?" I ask crudely. "Keep your damn whore mouth shut if you don't want another handful. I brought you here to_fuck_ you, not listen to you complain..." I release her hands, letting her cover her face with them for now. I'll need both hands for the next bit.

She's wearing a tight, cheap T-shirt, bought for this purpose. The flimsy fabric shifts as I dig my fingers into it - then tears as, with a grimace, I rip open the front with my bare hands, exposing her bare tits. Licking my lips, I maul them with my hands, squeezing and pinching. "Just as nice as I thought... bet you like showing them off through tight shirts like that, huh whore?" I grunt. My only reply is a sob muffled by her hands as I move downwards to her skirt, ripping that off her as well. Finding her bare beneath it, I chortle. "Hah! Just as much of a slut as I figured, swaying down the street, waving your ass in my face like that... betcha were just_hoping_ some guy would come along and take advantage, huh? Well, it's your lucky day, slut..."

I pull my pants halfway down, unleashing my raging hard-on. She gasps as she sees it from between her fingers. Grinning, I shift on top of her, letting her feel my weight as I grab her wrists again, pinning them to the sheets as I mount her missionary style. She gasps as my cock finds her eagerly drooling pussy, pushing its way inside, and I seize the opportunity by pushing my face against hers, kissing her violently as I pin her head to the pillow. My tongue invades her mouth, and for a few seconds hers wrestles with mine - then she remembers herself, and turns her head with a grimace, refusing the kiss. As my hips begin to lift and fall, fucking her with steady power, I raise my head and spit in her face. "Hunh! Ungrateful whore. You're not worth it, anyway," I growl.

I pound her like that for a bit, but missionary isn't one of my favorites. Just seems like the least efficient possible way to do it, from the man's perspective. Soon, I grow bored, and push myself off of her for a bit in order to forcibly flip her over on her stomach. "Time for you to learn how to please a man properly, slut..." I jeer. "And learn that your own pleasure just don't enter into it!" With one hand, I part her buttocks, while the other guides my cock into her twitching asshole. Her sphincter - unprepared by either fingers or toys - resists my girth briefly before allowing me entry, and she yelps in pain at the stretching. The yelp is somewhat exaggerated - I've given her too much anal training by now for 'painal' to be a real option anymore, at least for anyone not hung like a horse... or at least a pony.

Once I'm in, I shift my grip - one hand resting heavily on the side of her head, pushing her into the pillow as I start fucking her ass. Said ass cares little about the rape scene we're playing out - it welcomes me in as eagerly as ever, tight and warm around my shaft, and after working up a good sweat I finally get off. My seed disappears into the dank depths, like many times before, and with a tired sigh I lift myself off of her and sit down on the edge of the bed while she sobs into the pillow for a bit.

Reaching over, I grab one of her arms and pull her closer, once again twisting both of her arms behind her and gathering her wrists in one of my hands. The other is soon gripping her by the hair as I lift her head up close, scowling at her. "You made my cock dirty, whore..." I whisper dangerously. "So you'd best clean it off for me, hmm? Least ya could do." I push her head down towards my groin, then, where my shaft still stands hard and proud, glistening with her lubricating pussy juice and traces of ass-residue alike. "And if you even think of biting, I'll knock out every tooth you've_got_ and let you try again with just your gums..." I warn with a growl.

Sobbing, reluctant, she opens her mouth, and I forcefully jam her head down over my cock, tickling the back of her throat with the head. It's a more disgusting and humiliating task than usual - after all, some random babe off the street wouldn't know to do a cleansing enema beforehand, would she? - and I can both hear and feel her gagging as the taste of her own ass hits her tongue. But there's no escape - one hand holds her head firmly in place, while the other slowly starts to pull her arms backwards and upwards, twisting her shoulders painfully. "Get to work, whore..." I seethe.

She gets to work. Her tongue caresses my shaft, cleaning it from hilt to head, eventually pushing into my foreskin to search for any cum traces that might have hidden themselves there. I keep up a lurid narrative as she carefully cleans my cock, her body trembling visibly - telling her how she's too good a whore to let go, how I'll chain her in my basement and use her body every day, how I'll take off her legs if she ever tries to run, and her arms if she ever tries to fight me. "I'll never let you out, slut..." I whisper. "You'll spend the rest of your life as my personal cocksleeve." She can only shudder and moan around my thick cock in reply.

Eventually, the scene ends, and we snuggle together on the bed as the intensity of it drains out of both of us. Soon, she'll want to get up and go brush her teeth and gargle something to get the taste of ass out of her mouth, but for now, she just needs to hold me tight as she comes back from the world where she's a helpless rape victim - and I'm happy to let her, stroking her hair and muttering softly to her as she clings to to my sweat-dewed chest. I kiss her forehead, wondering if some day she'll be handling 'dirty' A2M just as readily and easily as she does the other kind now... and what I'll be doing in order to suitably humiliate her during rape-play then.

I'd never had her so thoroughly trussed-up before. Not even in the rack. The new suit was splendid, certainly - belts and buckles and o-rings in all the right places, like a perverse straitjacket. Her arms were bound wrist-to-elbow, her legs forcibly bent with her knees pressing against her the lower edges of her tits. She could just about wriggle her toes, and nothing else. A full bondage-hood covered her head - her long hair emerging as a ponytail from one of its few gaps. Integrated blindfold, gag, even ear-pads - self-contained sensory deprivation. The nostrils were the only holes it sported other than the one at the top where the ponytail emerged.

As for the suit itself, it had a number of optional gaps, most of which I'd indeed opened. Her tits swung free through a pair of them, clamps attached to the nipples and small, round weights dangling from those. Her ass was entirely exposed by a large, heart-shaped gap. The hole through which her pussy might have been accessed, though, was closed - and somewhere underneath, a faint buzzing could be heard. The remote-controlled vibrating egg I'd inserted before tucking her into the gimp suit was doing its thing, responding to the remote in my pocket - keeping her aroused, but no more.

She swung like a particularly festive pinata as I rammed the thick anal dildo home. It is a rather brutal model, lined with ripples and similar textures, and sporting a 'knuckle-grip' at the base that lets me really use my biceps to drive it home, as well as quickly pulling it out again for the next thrust. It's far from the first thing that's guested her anus during this session, of course. She's been dangling helplessly from the modified sex swing for over an hour as I alternatingly spanked, dildoed and ass-fucked her. A convenient, electric winch let me lower or raise her to the appropriate height for whatever I wanted to do, and the vast collection of toys and plugs we'd accumulated by now offered plenty of options.

After a few dozen more powerful thrusts - enough to make my arm start to ache - I pull the dildo out and admire the wreck it leaves behind for a few seconds. Her sphincter is red and ragged, the tissue around it wrinkled and discolored. It gapes and pulsates in the absence of penetration, slowly trying to pull itself together. The suit and position she is in, by design, does what her hands usually do - parting her luscious cheeks to provide full access to the treasure between them. I cast a critical look at the dildo, then. There are smears of my last load on it, as well as traces of blood - but not enough to be a worry. She's getting better and better at handling rough anal play.

Normally, she would be required to clean anything that had been used on her ass - with lips and tongue, of course - but during this kind of session she was exempt from that rule. Lucky for her, considering how deeply some of these dildos reached! I wipe down the knuckle-gripped toy and set it aside for a more thorough cleaning later, before looking critically at the selection spread out behind me. What's next... ah, yes, that one_._ The large, equine dildo. One of these days, I'll watch her take a real one - getting mounted by a pony stallion or similarly size-appropriate horse. For now, though, the dildo will do. Muffled moans can be heard from inside the hood as I push it inside without applying any lubrication. Her ass is so juicy at this point, dripping with what has been applied earlier, that there's no reason to.

I go through many more dildos - and three more loads of cum, blasted up her increasingly loose ass - before I start to tire of it. How long has it been, now? Two hours? Closer to three? It hardly matters. There's no set duration for this. It's not a punishment or anything, after all - I'm merely indulging in my anal fixation, using her body as I please. The crotch of her suit is soaked through, her juices flowing as copiously as ever. Good thing the material is specially treated for just such a situation. I cap the session with the largest butt plug in our collection - bigger than a man's fist, if also somewhat smoother. I rarely fist her - she can handle it, by now, and certain wouldn't try to stop me from wearing her like a glove whenever I felt like it, but it's just kind of... messy.

Even now, her sphincter only reluctantly parts before the plug's broad flare, and a keening noise from within the hood suggests that it is causing some measure of discomfort. Without the kind of lengthy workout her ass has received today, it would never fit at all. But it does, now, and finally slips inside, letting her tortured sphincter squeeze shut around the base... which is still the thickness of a woman's wrist. Reaching into my pocket, I toggle the egg buried within her pussy to 'high', letting the vibrations from it boost her pleasure and thus counteract some of the pain that her overstuffed anus would be experiencing right now. Then I stroke her head through the hood for a bit while I wait for the nature of her trembling to shift - for her and her body to get used to the size of the intrusion. I'd be whispering words of comfort to her, normally, but the sensory deprivation hood doesn't allow for that. Still, she moans and presses her head against my touch as much as her bonds will allow.

Then, I bring out the paddle. The reddening of her cheeks has faded somewhat from the earlier spankings while I focused squarely on her sphincter and the various toys that could fit up there, but it's time to refresh them before closing the curtain. As the long, broad paddle smacks across both buttocks, it impacts the base of the plug right in the middle - every stroke thus sending an additional shock up through her stretched open anus and careworn sphincter. The muffled yelps that escape from her hood are hard to interpret. Pain? Pleasure? Pleas for mercy? Begging for more? All of the above? Either way, I carry on until her ass glows a beautiful, bright red color once again.

With this accomplished, I finally hang the paddle back on the wall and rotate my arms a bit, wincing. It's been a bit of a workout, really... so I do some quick stretches, just to make sure I don't regret it in the morning. Then I carry all the toys I used over to the basement sink and clean them carefully, drying them off, and putting them back in their places. Meanwhile, she hangs there - ass full, buttocks glowing, vibrator going crazy inside her pussy. Very decorative. I know where her limits are - the egg vibe doesn't have nearly the engine power of the Sybian. It can't get her off, even on the highest setting. Nor can she cum from anal alone, alas.

After admiring the sight for a bit longer - and snapping a few pictures for my scrapbook - I finally step up to her head and open one of the thick ear flaps of her hood. "Would you like your daily orgasm now, my dear?" I whisper into her now-exposed ear. She nods vigorously - or as much so as the restraints will allow. "You_know_ it's going to hurt, don't you?" I question further. Another nod. Clearly, she doesn't care at this point. Chuckling, I reattach the ear flap, once again sealing her into the silent darkness of the hood. She is under strict one-per-day orgasm-control, easily enforced thanks to how much it takes for her to actually get off... and while I generally choose when she is allowed this release, it sometimes amused me to let _her_make the choice herself. Especially when, like now, she's liable to volunteer for fresh torments in the process.

The crotch of the suit comes open with a splash, reminding me of a popped water-balloon as the juices that had accumulated inside during the hours-long sessions are finally released to splatter on the floor. The easily-cleaned concrete floor, that is. There's a reason why basements are a popular place for bondage dungeons. It's easier to hear the hum of the vibrating egg now... and while that won't get her off by itself, the hefty 'magic wand'-style vibe I now take off the wall is another matter. Plugging it in, I switch it to full power immediately, letting its droning growl fill the dungeon - then I place it directly against her clit.

That's what it usually takes for her - direct clitoral stimulation. Especially when, as now, its fully engorged and peeking eagerly out from under its hood, looking for some fun. The powerful vibrator takes the tiny nub from zero to a hundred in an instant, and she jumps in her restraints. She's been close for a while - within a minute, she's cumming, screaming into the gagged hood, whole body shaking. The screams have a deliciously pained edge that only grows stronger as her body's orgasmic contractions force her worn-out ass to squeeze down on the painfully huge plug. I can see its base shift from the muscular action within, but only imagine what it must feel like.

A lazy Sunday... it's her day off today, so she's wearing clothes for once. Well, after a fashion. One of my shirts hangs loose and unbuttoned around her shoulders, and a short, pleated pink skirt covers her hips and little else. She's wearing nothing underneath, and the collar still decorates her throat. Some rules remain in effect even when she's off the clock. We're snuggling on the couch together, her head resting in my lap as I skim the news on my tablet and she plays around with her phone.

She jumps slightly, and we both look down the couch. The new puppy has jumped up on it, and has now disappeared halfway inside her skirt, only his rear and wildly wagging tail showing beyond the hem. Her breath catches in her throat as he snuffles curiously at her bare pussy, and I reach a hand down to pat his rear. "Good boy..." I mumble, giving him a bit of that all-important positive reinforcement. Soon, he is innocently lapping away at her, perhaps enjoying the sweet taste of her free-flowing juices - I know _I_have, on many an occasion - while she trembles slightly and carefully keep her legs spread for his convenience.

Chuckling, I stroke her head. She murmurs with satisfaction, and runs her hand up under my shirt to entangle her fingers in my chest hair. I continue to pet her while I read the news, and spot a story that reminds me of when we met - about a shortage of qualified people in the field she used to work in. "You ever regret taking this path?" I ask her lightly, tipping my tablet to show her the article. Not letting her see how much her answer would mean to me. She laughs, a sparkling sound, every bit as sweet as her screams. "Are you kidding me?" she replies, answering my question with a question. "I'm living the dream here!"

_ ...and they all lived happily ever after. _