“Sit!”

Vicky obediently plonked her butt on her legs and gazed up at Samantha, eyes wide.

“Drop it!”

Opening her mouth, she let her chew toy fall onto the floor in front of her.

“Speak!”

“Ruff, ruff!”

“Good girl!” Samantha said, and slapped her in the face.

“Ruaff!” Vicky yelped, the force of the blow snapping her head to her right side. Her cheek stinging and her cunt throbbing, she grinned dazedly and presented the other side of her face to her Master.

Chuckling, Samantha gave her headpats instead. “Good girl,” she repeated, and picked up a bag from the coffee table, fishing out a small chocolate-covered nut and holding it out to Vicky. The puppy girl eagerly dipped her mouth into her owner’s hand and ate the treat right out of her palm. She’d been given a few of these already throughout the day, though rather sparingly considering what a good pet she’d been.

The rich taste of the chocolate, and the satisfying crunch of the nut between her teeth, was nothing compared to the feeling she got from being fed out of Samantha’s hand. It made her feel so domesticated, so humiliated, and yet so loved and cared for at the same time. She thought her whole body might be blushing. “Rroo,” she mumbled happily, around her mouthful.

Taking out another nut, Samantha reached out towards Vicky’s face with it. “Ah ah,” she said warningly, as Vicky tried to bring her mouth to it, lifting it back out of reach for a moment. Pouting, she nevertheless took the hint, and didn’t try to take the treat again when Samantha brought it back towards her face. “I want you to try and balance this here for thirty seconds,” she said, placing the nut on the tip of Vicky’s upturned nose. “If you do, you’ll get a reward.”

A reward? Vicky wanted a reward. She didn’t even think to question what it might be. Instead she went as still as she possibly could, keeping the treat in place. It wobbled ever so slightly, but soon found its balance. The shrinking coherent fragment of Victoria’s mind wondered if her martial arts training had given her the skill necessary to succeed at this. She had to admit, when she started learning, one of her goals hadn’t been balancing a fucking chocolate nut on her nose.

After about twenty seconds, just when she was solidly confident she could win her reward, Vicky saw Samantha crouching down in front of her - and then felt her nipples being pinched and twisted. “Raoww!” Though she was a practiced painslut, she still flinched enough to dislodge the treat. It fell from her nose, slid across her cheek, and dropped to the floor.

“Oh dear,” Samantha tutted, releasing her grip. “Didn’t quite make it, there! And you were so close...”

Vicky stared at her sulkily, using her front legs to rub her tits against each other, trying to caress and soothe her sore nipples.

“Poor thing,” her Master tittered. “You look so disappointed! And you’ve got chocolate on your face, too. Let me get that for you...”

Leaning closer, she licked the thin trail of chocolate off Vicky’s cheek. “Aarowl,” the submissive sighed, her face relaxing, her eyes rolling shut as she delighted in the feeling of her owner’s tongue on her face. Then Samantha kissed her nose, lips wrapping around its tip and lightly sucking it clean.

Straightening up, Samantha took a few steps back, past the couch. “Heel,” she commanded, and Vicky dropped onto all fours and trotted forwards until she was right in front of her, ending up standing on the pet bed.

“Stay.” Samantha withdrew to their bedroom for a frustratingly long couple of minutes, once again dragging out her absence to tease her helpless pet. She returned with their trusty riding crop, the first BDSM implement they’d bought in the early days of their relationship, two and a half years ago. “You know why I’m going to use this, don’t you?” she chuckled, tracing the end of the crop over Vicky’s butt cheeks.

“Rowf!” The puppy girl shivered as the leather stroked her skin. Yes, she knew exactly why Samantha was going to hit her.

“It’s because you failed our little game, Vicky,” she continued, grinning cruelly. “You couldn’t keep your balance. And now, I need to punish you.”

“Relp,” Vicky replied with a dubious smile. That explanation was bullshit, and they both knew it. Samantha was going to hurt her because she enjoyed it - no other reason than that. Oh, except for the obvious one - that Vicky loved it too.

The first strike came without warning on the left cheek. “Aarf!” Vicky shrieked, her body flinching.

“Keep still,” Samantha warned her, “or I’ll go for your tits instead.”

Gulping, Vicky locked her legs in place and tried to hold still, though she couldn’t help letting out an agonised bark as she felt a second blow: “Raahf!”

Samantha spanked her a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. Again and again she struck, usually switching from one cheek to another, but sometimes targeting the same spot for a while. Vicky yelped and whimpered at each blow, keeping her body as still as possible, tears streaming from her eyes, her cunt drooling.

Her ass trembled every time it was hit. She would’ve considered it fairly resilient - partly from her gym routine, which had left it fairly toned, and partly from how much practice it’d had enduring being spanked. But Samantha’s physical strength and talent for sadism was crushing her butt’s defences, making it as weak and quivering as the rest of her. It felt like it was trying to shrink to protect itself, like a turtle hiding in its shell, and though this was obviously pointless, it did have the effect of shifting the plug around, just enough to turn her on even more.

Finally, the vicious assault came to an end. Samantha placed the crop on the coffee table - prompting a whimper from Vicky, who suspected it would be used again that evening - and fetched a box of tissues. Kneeling down next to her pet girlfriend, she wiped her wet face.

“Down,” Samantha ordered. Vicky folded her legs beneath her, sinking onto the pet bed. Looming above her, Samantha smiled fondly, giving her headpats with one hand, and stroking her sore butt with the other.

“Awooo,” Vicky whined, wriggling softly beneath her owner’s hands.

Samantha stepped over her and sat down on the couch, resting a foot against Vicky’s face. She gratefully nestled it into her sole, letting her Master use her as the footrest she was (still, even now that she was a puppy too). Hearing sound suddenly blaring from the TV (which she couldn’t see with the balls of Samantha’s foot covering her eyes), Vicky grinned. She didn’t expect to be going anywhere any time soon.

***

Indeed, the couple remained where they were for another quarter of an hour, until an insistent beeping from the kitchen alerted them that their dinner was ready. Samantha went to get their food, although on the way Vicky noticed her stopping by the table in the corner, bending down, and picking something up from underneath. She couldn’t see what it was, but she assumed it was her water bowl. Vicky wasn’t sure how much water she had left, but it would be nice to have it refilled.

Samantha returned with both hands full, though from her vantage point on the floor Vicky could only see the plate in her right hand, which she set on the table. Bending down to place the bowl under the table, Samantha called, “Here, girl! Dinner!”

Hauling herself to her feet (all four of them), Victoria padded across the room, frowning as she did so. Hope she’s gonna bring me some actual food, not just water. I’m starving, I could do with a little more than a liquid din-

Not for the first time that day, her train of thought came to a sudden halt as she saw beneath the table. Samantha had not, in fact, been refilling the clear plastic bowl - there was still plenty of water left in it. Instead, she’d taken the monogrammed food bowl - which now contained a substantial pile of spaghetti and meatballs. There was no sign of cutlery, but then again Victoria doubted she could’ve used a knife and fork right now anyway.

She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen this coming, but she hadn’t. And now she felt herself turning crimson yet again as she stared up at her smirking Master.

“Something wrong, pet?” Samantha teased. “Don’t want your food? After all the trouble I went to preparing that food, sticking it in the oven for half an hour and walking away.” She giggled. “It’d be awfully ungrateful of you if you didn’t eat it all up, like a good girl.”

I’m a good girl, Vicky’s puppy-brain insisted.

“Howw,” Victoria whined, a deeply flustered smile on her face. She knew she had no choice. She either ate this food, or she wouldn’t be fed at all. Plus, she desperately wanted to prove she was a good girl, even if it meant degrading herself further than she already had been. And besides, she reassured herself as she lowered her face towards the bowl, this can’t be much harder than eating chips or cereal...

The meatballs were easy enough - she just had to get hold of one between her teeth and close her mouth around it. The spaghetti proved trickier - finding the end of one of the strands was difficult enough, and then getting hold of it with her lips almost defeated her. It took her so long to slurp up only three long strings of pasta, the trailing strands flicking her chin and cheeks as they whipped out of the bowl, that she finally lost patience and buried her mouth in the heap of food, chomping indiscriminately.

She felt, again, that moment of near-orgasmic defeat she’d experienced so many times already that day - the moment when she abandoned all semblance of dignity and let her animal instincts and hypnotic compulsions take over. Her diminished human consciousness rationalised it as a pragmatic surrender, because otherwise eating her meal would take all evening. So she’d just have to put up with the humiliation, and the mess she felt covering her face. The fact that the profoundly humbling situation was making her nipples harden, her cunt drool, and her filled asshole ache joyously, was just a fringe benefit...

Oh, who the fuck am I trying to fool? she thought, rolling her eyes. It’s the main benefit.

As she ate, she felt Samantha’s foot pat her on the top of her head. “Good girl,” she said approvingly. “Good pet!”

“Mrrgh,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by a mouthful of pasta. I’m a good girl. I’m a good pet. Good pets don’t think. Good pets obey.

Once she’d finished eating, she kneeled up and waited patiently for Master to finish her own dinner. It appeared Samantha had cooked herself the same meal, although she was consuming it with much more dignity, using a fork and spoon. As she waited, Vicky’s eyes unfocused, her mind lost in submission and arousal after this latest degradation, her body on fire, her human mind and will broken by the unconventional dinner.

Finishing her last mouthful, Samantha turned in her seat to look down at her pet, and burst out laughing. “Oh, look how mucky you are! Such a messy pup!”

Vicky smiled dazedly, aware of the pasta sauce coating her mouth, cheeks and chin.

“In more ways than one, I’m sure,” Samantha chuckled, getting another tissue and wiping away the worst of the mess. “If I know my girl, I know you’re crazy horny right now. I don’t even need to look between your legs to be sure of it. You’re super turned on right now, aren’t you, Vicky?”

“Ruff, ruh ruff!” Vicky confirmed, nodding desperately.

Smiling wickedly, Samantha reached down and groped one of Vicky’s boobs, eliciting a whine. “Aw, so adorably frustrated,” she said mockingly. “My cute, needy little pet. My horny bitch in heat. My hot dog.”

“Rroh,” Vicky barked, her body shuddering at the sound of those two words. She didn’t know why, but hearing them had turned her arousal up even higher, shifting it into its uppermost gear. She needed to hump something. She urgently, desperately, needed to wrap her strong legs around something, and hump it. Hard.

“How, how, howwww,” she cried, falling onto all fours again. The couch was right behind her. She backed towards it, raising her left leg high (shifting her butt plug, which really didn’t help with her rampant arousal) and bringing her cunt to meet the edge of the chair. Without hesitation she began roughly rubbing it up and down, working the seam between her lips, feeling her flesh sliding along soft leather.

“Rrf, rruf, arf, rrf,” she growled as she humped the couch. God, that felt so good...

But not good enough. She couldn’t get herself past the brink - she couldn’t bring herself to orgasm. Why? Why couldn’t she make herself cum?

Her brain sluggishly provided the answer - good pets don’t cum. Her eyes widened - she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten, even in the (towering, intense) heat of the moment! This was pointless. No amount of humping would get her the release she craved.

And yet, she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t help but continue to rub herself against the couch, up and down and up and down, chasing that moment of ecstasy that she knew she wouldn’t reach. She didn’t have the willpower, the self-control, to stop. Her Master had all the control.

Vivid recollections abruptly flashed through her scattered mind, of being this dementedly horny and humpy before - of rubbing her cunt on pillows, cushions, the arm of the couch, Samantha’s hip, and anything else that had even the tiniest chance of getting her off. Samantha had done this to her before, more than once. At least then she could verbally beg for mercy, instead of only being able to muster pitiful barking and whining. If her memory (fractured as it was) served, her domme had rarely been merciful.

“Hah ah wroo ooh,” she sobbed, hips bucking and thrusting, and gazed up desperately in Samantha’s direction - only to find she wasn’t there any more. She’d left her on her own - again. Where the hell had she gone? Vicky shuddered, driven even wilder by being abandoned to her plight for about the tenth time that day. Her desire to go and find her Master, and plead to her with puppy-dog eyes, was hopelessly outweighed by her manic compulsion to grind against the chair behind her. Head bowed defeatedly, she continued doing just that. “Hhoo ooh ooh, roo ooh oof oof rwoof...”

“OK, that’s enough now, pet,” came Samantha’s voice at last. Before Vicky could look up, she saw a hand reach for her neck, fingers hooking under her leather collar - which she’d forgotten she was even wearing, it felt so normal at this point. Samantha tugged the collar firmly, and Vicky was pulled forwards, staggering away from the couch.

“Rro huh haww,” she whimpered.

“Can’t have you messing up the furniture.” Samantha dropped something large and soft on the carpet beside her pet. “Here,” she said brightly, though with an obvious layer of mockery in her tone. “Try this instead.”

Vicky sighed. She wasn’t even surprised to see her own pillow lying on the floor - the pillow where she lay her head at night, whenever Samantha permitted her to join her in their bed. She didn’t really want to hump it, but her jerking hips and throbbing cunt were making the decision for her.

“Rrulf,” she grumbled, and shoved the pillow between her legs, painfully, deliciously aware that it was very unlikely she’d be getting any kind of release in the near future.