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Sex Slave Bestiality, by Jezebel Rose

“Get down on your hands and knees, Anna,” my mistress ordered. I was naked except for the studded black leather dog collar around my neck. “Yes, mistress,” I answered at once and immediately knelt upon the cold floor. I felt Mistress Sara clip the dog leash to my collar.

As I waited for whatever would happen next, I thought back to how I had come to this point. We had made contact over the internet. I was searching for someone who could meet my most profound, darkest need, to be treated like the lowly dog I felt myself to be. Men had told me I was pretty and admired my large brown eyes, firm tits, and shapely legs as they stroked my brunette hair. However, within me, I realized, lay a desire, a craving to be humiliated. The worse a man treated me, the more I clung to him.

I devoured novels and bondage stories, always identifying with the submissive victim. Finally, I had worked up the courage to pursue my longing and found Sara through the web. I was thrilled when I learned she lived just a couple of hours from me. A phone call from her introduced me to her voice, sultry, self-assured, in complete control. She seemed everything I wanted. When she invited me for the weekend, actually, ordered me to attend her needs, I immediately said yes.

The directions brought me to a large house in a quiet suburban area. At first, I thought I had gotten the address wrong. When I rang the bell, holding my weekend bag in my hand, I heard the barking of a large dog. The hairs on my neck stood up in fear. Then the door opened, and I beheld a remarkably beautiful woman. Her blond hair cascaded down over her shoulders, her lips were full, and her cheekbones were high and chiseled.

The simple suit she wore revealed her long legs. Though I am not short, she towered over me in her black pumps. I was dazzled. She studied me for a moment with her lovely green eyes. “You’re late,” she said sharply. By her side stood a large black Doberman.

I started to disagree, and then thought better of it. I dropped my eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She reached up, took my chin in her hands, and pinched my face hard as she pulled up. I was staring into her eyes and saw a coldness there that frightened me. “Mistress,” she breathed. “You will always address me as mistress or Mistress Sara.” Her grip hurt my jaw.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” I gasped. She let go of me. I rubbed my jaw. For a brief moment, I considered leaving, but when Sara commanded me to enter, I followed. The dog came over and planted his nose in my crotch, his tail wagging. “Down, Jackson,” Sara called. Then she said to me, “You see, he’s really very friendly, especially to women visitors.” She closed Jackson into the den and led me downstairs to the basement.

The tension I felt made my mouth dry, but I knew not to ask for a drink. She brought me into a bare room, empty except for one chair. In one corner stood a sink, I noticed another angle covered with newspapers spread on the floor. Two of the walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

“What’s in the bag?” Sara asked sharply. “My clothes and things for the weekend, Mistress,” I replied.

She took the bag from me. “You won’t need those,” she said icily. “I will provide what I decide you need.” I nodded meekly. Then she continued, “Remove your clothes at once, and your jewelry. They are far too good for you.” I gulped at this order but answered again, “Yes, Mistress Sara,” and did as I was told.

In a few moments, I stood naked before her. She stepped from the room with my bag and clothes. It was cold in the room, and I felt my nipples harden. When Sara returned, she was holding a black leather case. I modestly crossed my arms over my erect nipples. “ARMS AT YOUR SIDES AND EYES FORWARD,” she yelled. I nearly jumped out of my skin at her harsh tone, but I put my arms down and stared straight ahead. For some reason I could not understand, I have incredibly aroused already, and my pussy was very moist.

Mistress Sara stood before me, holding a rolled up newspaper in her hand. Then she walked behind me. Whoosh! I heard the paper a moment before it smacked my bare, round behind. Two more sharp blows followed. I yelped in pain, but knew, despite my urge to ward off the whacks or flee the room, that I must submit. “Thank you, mistress,” I choked out the words as tears came to my eyes, still looking in front of me.

“Good girl,” Sara said, standing behind me. “Obedience is paramount in a dog. Jackson is obedient. Now I see you, too, are obedient.” I felt ashamed to be compared to her Doberman, but wasn’t that what I needed? I had come to this place to be treated like a dog, and I was getting exactly what I asked for.

Sara moved around in front of me and looked down into my eyes. I bowed my head. Then she spoke. “Listen well, Anna. You have come here to join my little kennel. If you agree to my conditions, you may stay. You will become my slave-dog. I will call you my bitch, both to your face and when I’m speaking to my friends.”

This was the first hint I had gotten that other people might be involved, and I gave a little gasp. Sara paused while I digested her meaning. Then she went on. “You will be treated like the dog you are. Dogs wear no clothes. Dogs have a collar and walk on a leash wherever their mistress takes them. Dogs do as they are told, or they are punished. The newspaper is just a little taste of the things I use to train my dogs. Do you accept?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Sara reached into the black bag and brought out a black dog collar with a row of silver metal studs. I tilted my head forward and felt the leather slip around my neck. Sara reached behind me to close the buckle. I was hers.

Now I found myself ordered to all fours and leashed like any other canine.

~

My humiliation began. From the bag Mistress, Sara removed a strange object, a latex bulb, narrow at one end, then thicker (about an inch or so in diameter), thinner again, and broader at the end with a handle. Extending from the handle was a foot-long rod covered with fake fur.

“You will be a much prettier dog, Anna, with a tail.” My eyes widened in disbelief. It suddenly dawned on me that the object in her hand was a butt-plug, and she planned to stick it in my ass. “Please, no!” I cried. “I can’t.” Thwack! The newspaper stung, leaving my ass cheek red. “Do not disobey, bitch.” Sara’s voice was cold as steel.

I watched as she lubricated the plug with a gel. Then she moved behind me. She squeezed some of the gel around my butt hole and worked it in with her finger. The sensation was erotic, and I closed my eyes to savor the feeling.

“That’s a good dog,” Sara cooed. Then her finger was replaced with the tip of the plug. I tensed up at the sensation of something so big entering my virgin back passage. At first, I felt a searing pain, but in a few moments, the plug was in, and I felt an incredible warmth and fullness in my rectum.

Sara stepped back and told me to look at myself in the mirror. The fur extension from the plug stood out like a tail. “Wag it,” my mistress instructed. I found that by wiggling my hips, I could do a reasonable imitation of a dog seeking attention. “Good doggie,” Sara said. “Would you like something to drink?”

Pleased by the sudden softening in her tone, I nodded. She led me by my leash over to the sink. Although I probably should have expected it, I was still surprised when she poured the water into a dog-food bowl and set it in front of me. The container, I noticed, had “Anna” stenciled on it.

I reached to pick it up and felt my leash jerk violently. “Bitch, dogs don’t hold their water dish. They put their face down in the bowl and lap it up.” I felt my ears getting red again, but I did as I was told. It was awkward at first, but my thirst was desperate. I slurped the entire bowl in a few minutes.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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