Bitch

It was a couple of months ago now, that Master’s dog last pissed on the carpet. After kicking him out, he grabbed my hair, and, while fucking me from behind, shoved my head towards the stinking wet patch on the floor. He said “I want to hear you sniff it!” and I tried, but not well enough – it was repulsive. Master ordered me again, “Sniff it! I want to hear you sniffing like a dog!” He was holding me roughly and pushed my face right into it. I was revolted by the smell and wanted to pull away, and I whimpered at first, but had to try to please him. I started to sniff loudly and quickly, a sort of panting through my nose. He held me there and fucked me and rubbed my face harder into the dog’s piss on the floor, forcing me to inhale its scent. It was bitter and concentrated, and with my eyes clenched shut, my hair spilling over my face, and a cock throbbing in my cunt, the animal smell and the sound of myself huffing like a canine took me somewhere primitive inside my mind… I lost self-consciousness and dignity, and for a short while I could truly believe I was not human.

It seems to be the latest direction Master is taking me in my training: to become a bitch. And it suits me well. I have always felt there was something beautifully simple and purifying about animal-training, but the common choices seem somewhat absurd. A Dom I met a long time ago once said he’d like to train me as a cat, but in all honesty I think there is nothing cat-like about me. Puppies are far too innocent and cute, it would feel ridiculous. Yes, I am more like a bitch. Bitches are dirty and unashamed. A bitch is wanton and yet vulnerable. A bitch is there to please, to be used as a hole, and sometimes, to breed. I am definitely a bitch.

The other night it was a nice surprise, when Master showed me what he had me doing. He had placed something over my head and was taking photos while I posed on all fours, not knowing what this was about. Until he showed me the pic on the camera, and I realised what was over my face: a leather dog mask. I was posing as a bitch.

As a bitch, .... I am to spend nights on the floor, and eventually, outside in a pen or kennel. I may one day be replaced in my human position by another woman, one who will slut by my Master’s side and treat me as the animal that I am. Worth less even than Master’s ‘real’ dog. A situation so awful and yet so attractive…

If Master does indeed progress with teaching me in this vein, I know I will be challenged. But also rewarded. I do long to be taught new ways to please him, and if this is what he wants of me, I will learn to be the best bitch I can be. Woof.

A good toilet

Two years ago, I was in a hotel room, exhausted and recovering from the first of many gangbangs my new Master would have me available for. He dismissed me to shower while he showed out the last of the guests, then entered the bathroom where I stood - wet, exposed and trembling. He ordered me to sit down and open my legs, and I did as he asked with trepidation. He said "spread your lips" and I held them - swollen, overused, and open - and I knew. I briefly shut my eyes, then looked down to watch the first stream of his piss touch my skin, spraying my cunt. He emptied his cock onto me and I waited, accepting it, until he appeared satisfied, and told me to resume my washing. That was my first golden shower.

Last night, I laid down on Master's floor, and positioned a large funnel in my mouth. When he urinated into it, I didn't choke, and I didn't gag, I just swallowed. I concentrated on keeping the pace it went down my throat fast enough so it wouldn't spill, and I didn't stop until I sucked nothing but air through the tube. Afterwards, he told me he was pleased, that I had become a good toilet, and I felt proud.

When he asked how it felt, I delved deep and answered that it felt dirty, humiliating, and submissive - and that I felt happy to have pleased him. But what surprised me that I couldn't put into words was that I felt so little at all. That is, I felt a little of all those things, but mostly there was a sense of normality about the whole experience. Of course I would swallow his piss. Of course I would be his toilet. Those thoughts came well before any sense of it being degrading in any way at all. I remember a similar feeling two years ago: testing myself in my mind, replaying the scene, thinking: he PISSED on me... waiting for a reaction, and hardly finding one at all.

Yes, of course I will drink piss from my Master. If it pleases him, it is right. I thanked him last night for training me in this way - his content little piss slut. And of course, I know it doesn't stop there....