Leash Journey Ch. 02

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Pet-girl completes training.
4.6k words
4.23
85.5k
19

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 11/27/2005
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I was fed again, allowed to do my business, and taken for a walk. Master didn't speak and neither did I. I trotted around his garden, did not pick or even smell any flowers, and then crawled back inside the house and to my new 'home'. Master set up a TV and VCR and put in a tape. He then left, locking the door. My training began in earnest.

In what looked like a classroom, a nude female in a studded collar was put through her paces. She was a natural redhead, her long hair done in pigtails, and seemed to know her stuff rather well. The unnamed dog went through all the basics, most of which I already knew, but I was not about to complain. As I was not chained to anything, just left mostly nude and collared, I made the best of my time by mimicking her, responding to the same commands she did and doing my best to perform as smoothly.

I watched exactly how she moved, then rewound certain parts to join her in service. I practiced until I could have done it all in my sleep: stay, sit, fetch, beg, roll over, sit up, play dead, shake, point, stretch. I also barked, woofed, yipped, whined, whimpered, doing whatever she did as best I could. I offered my 'paws', opened wide to show off my very white teeth, and learned to better display myself, offering up my ass and splaying my legs wide so that my pussy was ripe for inspection.

I watched the tape until I had it memorized, and could go through the commands by rote. Master came in periodically to feed and water me, take me out for walks, and to bring other tapes.

I settled back into my studies, rarely thinking of anything else, and so my days passed. I slept in my cage, I gave up trying to play with myself with that damnable contraption on, and learned my lessons. I was bathed as a dog in a big metal tub, scrubbed with a long handled brush, hosed off, then commanded to 'shake' before being fluffed with a towel. I was taken out in the garden to use the bathroom. I was not allowed to talk.

I learned so much about barking and doggy rules. Not to drink from toilets, not to chase cats, not to chew on shoes. At first that was all pretty funny, but Master had given me a very stern look when he had heard me laugh, and I was too afraid of the leash beating to not treat it seriously. I learned to bark for what I wanted, and did not laugh again.

The third tape was doggy exercises, better ways to crawl and scoot about and fetch. I stretched and crawled and practiced running on all fours. Lots and lots of stretching, as so much of a dog's life was spent in cramped positions. Staying in shape was very important for all slaves, but especially for a good dog.

I stopped thinking about human topics, my mind bent completely on all I was learning and how I could do even better than the redhead on the tapes. I nearly went into shock the first time I caught myself scratching my head with my foot. That seemed a little much, and I cried again after that. What was I becoming?

With the red haired girl, always in pigtails, I learned and memorized and changed. It occurred to me that Master must like pigtails, and I vowed that as soon as I was allowed the luxury of doing my hair again, I would have pigtails too. I was allowed to brush my hair after my baths, but not given anything to fix it with, no barrettes or hair spray, just my dog brush.

I didn't have a mirror, or access to any make-up or even nail clippers. I felt denied off all the things familiar to me, and guessed that it was done on purpose. If Master wasn't so very busy, or at least I assumed he was, then I probably wouldn't even get to keep the brush, as dogs can't comb themselves.

Master only paid me visits to check on my progress, feed or water me, take me out when I scratched on the door, occasionally praise me if I was good. He took me for walks, always holding that plastic rod, ready to punish me for any mistakes. I barked and played and crawled to order, doing all I could to prove how good I was and show him how much I had changed.

Sometimes it was a struggle to be a puppy-girl slave. I wanted so badly to play, to beg to be chained and spanked, but held myself to dog behavior, as I was not allowed to speak. I become the most submissive dog imaginable, licking Master's always clean boots whenever he pointed at them, whining and yipping when he appeared, rolling onto my back or thrusting out my ass to expose myself to him on command.

I tried very hard to be good, and kiss the paddle whenever he held it, always hoping for a reward, licking his hands to show how eager I was to please.

After a time I started to feel rather like a programmed robot. I instantly responded to my instructions, snapping into the doggy modes of behavior in all situations, absorbing it all like instinct. Sometimes I cried, and thought about my old life, which seemed so long ago and sort of unreal against the backdrop of my dungeon.

And then I thought about my Master, recalling the warmth in his voice when he called me a good dog, and felt such a rush that it drove any regrets away. No boyfriend or other Master had ever given me so much, taken so much time to really work with me, or teach me anything of value. I knew how to please him, as far as he allowed, and relished those moments. I made no decisions, just spent my days being a good pet and basking in his joy.

But how much longer could my training last?

When not working with the tapes, or being led about on my leash, all I did was think. I examined my life, old and new, and watched so much about myself alter as the days passed. My human behavior from before seemed to be nothing more than a lie. I had rushed from one bad situation to another, bowing and scraping without ever being rewarded for all my efforts. I learned I was a slave, and joined a new community, and found a freedom there, but still something had been missing. I played my scenes, barked and panted, and then went home to balance my checkbook and eat a microwave dinner.

My boyfriends had never understood, and used to make me feel dirty. My Masters had abused me before I learned about contracts and to carefully check into the potential Dom before agreeing to anything. I learned, and had so much fun, but still went home, dreaming about the next scene, the next escapist weekend spent on my knees.

It all seemed so silly now. I looked at it all from my cage and shook my head at myself. Why had it taken so long for me to find a real Master, and finally be put and kept in my place? I belonged on my knees, all the time. I was a dog, a puppy-girl, and it wasn't a game. Master had shown me that. This is what I was, and I felt so much better now that I knew.

There was no longer any struggle at all about accepting my submissiveness, in being as complete a dog as I could manage. What did I need a checkbook for? Or even nail clippers? I was a dog, a canine to the core of my being.

My Master clipped my nails the next time he took me out for a walk, and then let me lay on a rug in front of the fireplace while he read a book. I napped, content. I was a dog. Only a dog, and had never been happier in my life.

The next step in the process was so scary and exciting that I was amazed to have been so gifted. I had finally proved myself to the man I served, and he was pleased. Now I was getting my reward, and more than that, recognition for all I had done.

I had slept as usual in my cage, something I did on my own now, and woke to the sounds of Master's footsteps coming down the hall. I got up on my knees, waving my paws in the air, whining with excitement. He opened the door and walked towards me, a bundle tucked under one arm and my food bowl in his hands. He put my bowl down a few feet in front of my cage and then opened the door, placing one foot just in front of me.

"Greet your Master."

I fell to my task with slobbering enthusiasm, licking and lolling my tongue all over his boot, rolling my eyes up to watch the approval on his handsome face. I was so proud to please him in even this small way, and grateful that he allowed me the opportunity to do so. I licked and worshiped with every enjoyment, growing wet at the thought of the spanking I might receive if I did my job well enough.

After a moment, Master pointed to my food bowl. "Eat."

I crawled happily to my bowl, digging my face into the beef tips and gray, lapping and chewing and making little growls of pleasure. Master was a very good cook and I was always grateful to be given something other than oatmeal or cereal. I was a dog after all, and I wanted meat. I finished every scrap and then licked all over my bowl, getting every bit of rich gravy.

"Good dog," Master said, patting my head. He then pointed at the right wall, where chains had been affixed to the rings, cuffs dangling and waiting for my quivering flesh. "Are you ready to show what a good puppy-girl you have become?"

I barked excitedly, growing wetter still. Oh yes. It is finally the day. I would finally get the whipping that had so often been in my thoughts.

I almost ran over to the wall, panting and yipping and pawing with anticipation. Master gestured me to stand, and for a moment it felt weird, almost making me dizzy. I had been on the floor for so long that the new elevation was almost alien.

He turned me to face the wall and cuffed my wrists, then shackled my ankles with my legs wide apart. I was so excited I thought I would hyperventilate.

Master presented the whip to my lips and I kissed it lovingly. I could hear him moving behind me and then winced at the crack before the sting fell across my back, bucking my hips with pain and surprise. I gasped as he whipped me with skill, slowly working my back and ass. The sharp pain was like punishment, but every stroke drenched my pussy with pleasure.

I whined and barked and wanted to scream. I wanted to beg him to use the paddle, to alternate the biting flicks with meaty whacks, but held my human tongue.

Master was doing just as Master pleased, playing the whip along my skin, and I wanted it, needed it. I had finally deserved this, this disastrous attention, and writhed beneath the falling leather. I relished the strokes, each bite like a kiss, like molten lust poured over my back to drizzle down between my legs, pooling like lava and soaking my engorged flesh.

Oh make me come, Master. Whip me unit I scream for you.

I fell in my mind, down the well of my own body, flesh becoming one great cavern of need, jerking under his tender mercy. I was fire, an ocean of lust, and also adrift on that blazing tide, sent spinning through the dark. I was dancing as though some ancient beast, whirling around a tribal flame, bathed in purest pleasure, abasing myself before the sky and stars.

I am naked. I am slave. I screamed in shattering climax.

I hang limply, returning to myself, my tormented flesh aching and burning. I was still so hot, dripping desire down my thighs. Master moved to unchain me, supporting my heaving body as I was too weak. He laid me gently on the cool floor, smiling down at me. I watched him fetch the bundle he had brought, admiring his hands as he untied and unrolled a strange kit. I recognized rings, needles, small bits of chain, as well as other things I had never seen. It was a piercing kit, and the implication seemed clear.

"You have done well, puppy-slave," Master said softly, a wide grin curving his lips like a touch of sunshine. "You had a rough start but have truly taken to the training process. I have brought you face to face with your real nature, and you have reveled in it, as I predicted. This ends our arrangement."

I whined, my eyes going wide. No! "Master, don't send me away." My voice was hoarse, the words sounding strange in my ears, and a moment of panic knew I would be punished for speaking. It couldn't end this way, not when I had come so far! I just couldn't let it go, just leave and go back to my old life, not after all I had become.

"I'm a good dog. I want to be a good dog for you, Master." I moved to lick his hands, to bathe his beautiful hands with my adoration. "Please, please don't send me away."

Master smiled. "If you wish, I can finish the process, though you hadn't agreed to that. You've shown you have the desire, but if you really wish to be a true dog, for the rest of your life, you have to be marked. If you accept these rings, you will always be my dog-slave. You will never remove them, you will never be free to seek another Master, you will never be anything but the mutt I command. You will also be branded as my property, your body bearing my mark for the rest of your life. Is this what you want?"

I barked an immediate yes, knowing that I would never be happy without him. Even the thought was terrifying.

Master rose, smiling but shaking his head. "Think about it, as there is no changing your mind. Consider this a new contract, one that won't end, and be sure it is what you want." And then he left.

I whined. I couldn't help it. Part of me knew that he was being fair, giving me time to calm down and consider. Rings could be removed, or replaced, and maybe the holes would grow closed in time, but a brand was permanent. I would be owned, the mark my own skin, indelibly there for all to see. My puppy-girl training told me I wanted to please Master in any way, in every way. He was leaving the decision up to me, but was there really a choice left? After all I had learned of myself and my needs, could I really do anything else but accept what had given me the greatest pleasure?

I was a dog, had fully become a dog under my Master's tutelage, and didn't want to be anything else. I was his, in every way that really counted, and I knew I would be miserable without him. I had been chained, whipped, and I had come. I was still shaky and wanting more, wanting anything he would do to me. How could I live without him? How could I ever go back to a life where I was not at his feet?

I lay very still and waited for Master to return. I was his dog-slave. I would wear his rings and brand and be complete.

I had pierced my ears at home, so I knew what to expect. I looked at the tiny silver rings and very thin chains and waited. Would he do the branding himself? How much would that hurt?

I panted, wondering, and shivered. I was really going to be his now. With his brand, his mark, he would never cast me aside. I was going to be his alone. Forever.

After what seemed an eternity, I could hear his boots again. I smiled, barking my pleasure. He raised a brow and I yipped with excitement, rolling to my paws and nosing the kit, snuffling and panting to show what I wanted. I needed this. I had to be his.

"You want this then? To be ringed and branded as a puppy-slave for the rest of your days?"

I barked, sitting up to beg, and then dared to state my wish in human fashion, so there would be no misunderstanding. "Yes, Master. This dog wants to be your slave always."

He grinned, pulling a ball gag out of another bag, along with alcohol and some bandages. I lowered my head so he could affix the gag, pulling it tight so I wouldn't make a sound. He then carefully laid out the implements and I grew so excited watching, turning my head away in a thrill of terror and anticipation. This was what I had come for, though I hadn't known it all those weeks ago. This was my destiny.

My heart beat wildly, thundering with excitement, and yet a part of me felt still and calm. I was not going to be sent away. I was not going to ever be just a woman again. My fate, my true nature, was sealed and about to be set in my flesh for all to know. I was going to be a ringed slave, a branded bit of baggage, and my flesh sang with the knowledge.

First was the piercing of my nipples, sharp pain, lancing agony through my nerves in a rush so hard I moaned against the gag, wanting to buck and squirm. It hurt so nicely, so hot and quick. The cool metal tweaked my burning flesh like ice after acid, and I screamed with the glory of it. I was sure I would pass out. All my excitement, all that stinging fire, it all felt so right, so much, nearly too much.

Then my belly button, and after my lower lips. I was hot and numb, sopping with wonder and hunger, enflamed with the surety that I was truly his. I nearly lost control, all but coming again. His smile as he worked was my entire world. My puppy slave journey was at an end, even as it truly began.

I was allowed to rest, feeling groggy but so very happy, as though I was drunk or high or stuffed on too much sugar and adrenaline. There was some pain, but it was wonderful, a tireless whip buzzing my nipples and sex lips in an eternal lashing. I was content. A puppy-slave, trained, marked, owned. I panted softly, so very happy, and still excited. The branding was still to come, and somehow I knew it would feel even better.

After a long nap on the rug before the fire, my Master awakened me with a boot nudged lightly over my ribs. I yawned and stretched with a bit of a wince, and happily licked his boot. He smiled and bent down to carefully remove the bandages covering my piercings. I whined a little as the tape pulled each small wound, delicate flesh still throbbing like the march of fire ants over my sensitive tissue. I lay before him, rolled prettily on my back while he inspected his work, gasping as my new rings caught the firelight. The silken pain glinted with each breath, causing me to shiver. He stared down at me, approval sweet in his expression, making me feel so very warm and vulnerable at his feet.

He stroked a hand gently over my swollen nipples, causing me to growl softly.

"When you are a bit more healed, you will wear a delicate chain between them, and love the stimulation with every breath."

I shuddered at the thought, imagining the added pressure on my nipples and lips, picturing a chain that ran like a y from my breasts to dangle between my thighs, gently arousing my most sensitive areas. I could be some exotic flower, wearing only that chain, a dancer made to moan before an adoring crowd. If dogs could dance. Perhaps I could writhe, surrounded by candles, playing my paws in the air as a hot wanton thing. A glittered pup I was now, panting to come beneath Master's whip again.

He attached a very short lead to my collar and gave a tug that caused me to roll onto my knees. He led me across the room and down the hall, back toward my cell where I where I was again placed in the stock. I was gently shackled, completely exposed to whatever might happen next.

Someone I didn't recognize entered the room, carrying something large and spilling heat, a bucket of coals with several long-handled instruments inside. I stared at the broad man, his face hidden behind a dark leather mask, and was too excited to be curious about him. He as here to brand me and that was all I needed to know.

I shivered, feeling heat well between my thighs with the anticipation of pain. I panted and whined and barked, wanting to toss my head with excitement but unable to move. I wanted this so badly, to belong to Master forever. The waiting was exquisite torture.

The man moved behind me and I fought to be still, to slow my rampant panting. Master stood before me, taking hold of my leash and giving the slightest tug, reinforcing my status, giving me no slack at all. It went so far beyond any degradation I had ever suffered, this highest mark of servitude that would prove me for all days as his property. My pussy was slick and throbbing, watching Master grow hard before me, the bulge in his jeans combining with my own excitement at the pain to come. I would revel in this delicious torture for my Master, and perhaps then he would finally take me. My desire was a raging flood, my mind conjuring the pleasure of having him inside me. Surely the wait was over now.

I felt the heat from the iron as it approached my flesh, so slowly, drawing out my torment of anticipation. I was so totally focused on that growing warmth that I felt blind, lost in the reality of this shining moment. The heat kept nearing, an intensifying volcanic probe that promised eternal delight. I hoped it would be noticeable, something very fine that I could show off with my wagging ass, something no one admiring me would miss.

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