by Lindsay Ross
***
It was the day Emma Holman was coming to make her assessment of Susannah’s preparation and training to be a canine slave.
Susannah was determined to impress her mistress so much that she would want to take her as her Mistress’s own pet.
Emma came to her cage early when Susannah was still connected to the milking machine. There she asked questions of the group of men about her milk yield and the condition of her teats.
‘Her yield is dropping, ma’am,’ said one of them. ‘Do you want us to go on inducing her?’
‘That depends on what I find when I put her through her paces,’ said Emma. ‘I’ll let you know.’
As the milking machine was taken away, Emma stood over the kneeling figure of Susannah and lowered one hand towards her mouth. Susannah licked her fingers affectionately and looked up with adoring eyes.
Emma slipped on a collar, pulling it tight round Susannah’s neck and then attached a lead. Susannah crawled along, keeping as close to Emma’s boots as possible as they left the cage.
She was taken to the training ground where Emma tested her responses to simple commands. She came to her mistress the instant she was called, showed how well she could walk to heel and begged when Emma offered her a biscuit.
When Emma threw a rubber ring, Susannah retrieved it speedily though the ground was soft and muddy in places.
Susannah completed two perfect rounds of the obstacle course and came back to Emma feeling pleased, tongue lolling and chest heaving from her exertions; remembering to pant as she sat at her mistress’s feet.
‘You’ve come a long way from that ill-mannered young lady who first came to the Academy. Your parents would be proud if they could see how obedient you are, but of course we can’t show them.’
Susannah was overjoyed as Emma patted her head twice.
She knew she couldn’t say anything, as the human hounds were forbidden speech, but hoped her eyes would speak for her when she looked up at her mistress.
‘I think you’re ready,’ said Emma.
Emma kept Susannah on the lead as she walked off in the direction of the cottage and studios.
Mary was hovering about as usual and seemed pleased to see Susannah.
‘My goodness, what a lovely animal,’ she crowed, patting Susannah vigorously. Susannah licked Mary’s fingers enthusiastically. ‘There’s a good dog!’ Mary repeated as she fussed over her. ‘Everything’s ready,’ she said to Emma. ‘I’ll bring you a coffee and a bowl of water for Susie.’
Emma led her into the studio building where Susannah saw people clustered round a stage set, including young men and women with clipboards, sipping coffee from paper cups.
Being the only one naked, Susannah felt a moment or two of embarrassment as Emma joined the group but she was determined not to show it. She didn’t want to give Emma the slightest reason to doubt her.
When Emma went behind a screen to change her clothes, Susannah was left alone. One of the men in the group stroked her bottom and pushed his fingers into her pussy as though it was a perfectly normal action and Susannah tried to stay relaxed.
Her heart was pounding with the thought that she was to be filmed; thinking of how many people would see her nude, dirty old men buying videos and magazines, young men using her picture to masturbate. There was no escape now. She didn’t want to escape.
Emma was the dominatrix par excellence. She stepped from behind the screen in a figure-hugging plum-coloured corset, suspenders, fishnet stockings and the highest of high heels – and she carried a whip.
Susannah knew Emma represented a cliché dressed this way, but she carried it off.
Or was that just her opinion because she knew Emma and knew being a dominatrix was so close to her nature? The costume might be predictable but the role was right for her, it was casting to type. That was obvious from the confidence in Emma’s expression.
There was no question of Emma sending up the part. She would be serious about it.
They started with Emma and Susannah posing for a series of still photographs, Emma standing over her brandishing her whip, Emma with her high heel resting on Susannah’s bottom, the slave kissing the feet of her mistress. The dog fawning round its owner…
***
The girls were fortunate that someone picked them up almost immediately. They got into the back seat of the expensive-looking car with their white sheets wrapped round them and settled back with relief.
When the driver questioned them about how they came to be on the motorway hard shoulder dressed in sheets, he said his first thought was they were students involved in some prank. He thought Anna’s shaved head had something to do with them being Buddhists.
When the girls told him they were fleeing from danger, he offered to phone the police on his mobile but they declined the offer.
Then he lapsed into silence, but Chrissie could see he kept looking in his mirror to observe them.
When he finally spoke, it sounded as though he’d been trying to muster the courage for a considerable time.
‘If you play with each other, I’ll pay you well,’ he said nervously.
‘What?’
‘I just want to watch in the mirror. I won’t touch you.’
‘You better drop us off,’ said Chrissie. ‘We’ve had enough of perverts for the time being, thank you.’
‘Do you have any money?’ he asked in the same diffident tone.
‘No,’ said the girls in unison.
‘Well, then. I’ll pay you fifty pounds if I can watch you…having sex together. You know the kind of thing…you can keep the sheets round your shoulders so no-one can tell what you are doing.’
‘No,’ said Anna.
‘Don’t be too quick, sweetheart, if he gives us a hundred pounds, the money will come in very useful.’
‘I meant fifty pounds altogether.’
‘Fifty pounds each and we’ll do the business.’
It was obvious from his smart suit and his smart car that he could afford it. ‘Okay.’
Chrissie raised the bottom of the sheet to expose the lower part of her naked body and, whispering encouragingly to Anna, she did the same for her. Chrissie stroked Anna’s pussy gently and took her hand to place it over her own. Very slowly, Chrissie insinuated her fingers into Anna’s slit and soon the two girls were masturbating.
‘Kiss each other,’ the driver ordered in a hoarse voice.
Chrissie tried to choose her moments carefully so they were not observed. She watched for cars coming too close before kissing Anna tenderly on the lips so she’d didn’t take fright.
Chrissie was becoming quite aroused and her juices were flowing freely. She was aware of the driver’s eyes upon them and saw he was driving with only one hand on the steering wheel; she wondered if his other hand was on his cock.
She wondered if he would pay up or just drive away when he stopped eventually. Perhaps she should have demanded the money up front.
Anna had relaxed enough at last for her pussy to be wet and she began to move about on her seat as Chrissie fingered her more vigorously and then she started to moan with pleasure which Chrissie imagined would be a turn on for the driver.
Anna had an orgasm well before they reached the city boundary.
When Chrissie explained how to get to Emma’s house, the driver said he was willing to drive them there although it had not been his destination. He could soon get back to the motorway.
He looked like a schoolboy who’d had a treat and handed a hundred pounds over without protest.
It was Andy who answered her knock on the door.
‘Who the hell is this?’ he asked, indicating Anna.
‘Here,’ she said and thrust the banknotes into his hands. Some fluttered onto the doormat. ‘Meet Anna. She’s nowhere else to go.’
‘She can’t stay here…unless…’
‘She knows what to expect.’
Andy pulled the sheet from around her shoulders and, after trying to tug it b
ack for a second, Anna realised she had to let it go.
She put her hands up to cover her breasts, looking like a wounded little waif.
‘My God!’ said Andy, looking at the stripes and bruises all over her body. ‘And you?’
Chrissie let her sheet drop from her shoulders.
The damage done by Price and his sidekick had not had time to heal.
‘Get yourselves in the shower,’ Andy said. ‘Then you can get on with painting the flat.’
Chapter Thirteen
The boy chosen to join in the film was the young man Jack had allowed to mount her out on the training ground; the boy Susannah thought was attractive.
Now she could see him properly under the glare of the lights, she saw he was both handsome and well endowed. Susannah supposed that was the reason he’d been selected. His cock seemed permanently erect; it had been the time before. But she wondered if the fact that his cock and balls had been shaved made his prick look even longer and thicker than it was.
Everyone on the set called the young man Rex, but Susannah wasn’t sure if this was his real name or his dog name.
He had a ring through one nipple and a tattoo on his chest and was now wearing a dog harness and thick leather collar. Emma yanked him about on the end of his lead.
The scenario, such as it was, required Susannah and Rex to behave as Emma’s two dogs and, needless to say, Emma was a cruel and demanding mistress.
Up to the point that Rex joined in, the whipping had been simulated but Susannah detected a change in the atmosphere as Emma was handed a different whip with a thick black corrugated handle.
The scene was set in the kitchen where Rex stole a chicken leg from the table when his mistress’s back was turned. Emma turned back from the stove just in time to see Rex gnawing on the bone.
They came to the front of the set where there was room for Emma to swing her whip and lash Rex across his buttocks. This time the lash made contact with a fearsome crack that was undoubtedly the real thing, as was the livid weal that was left on both the boy’s white cheeks.
The camera came in very close and Susannah could see in the monitor a vivid close up of the wound.
Emma seemed to be expert with the whip, able to land it wherever she pleased which struck Susannah as being a difficult task because of the length of the lash. It seemed a fine judgement as to where to stand and at what angle to the body of the person being scourged although in this scene, the boy was not a person. Despite the severe pain he must have suffered, he continued to respond like a dog rather than like a human being, even yelping and whining for the benefit of the boom microphone.
Susannah winced as Emma struck Rex again. The stroke was terrifying in its severity and she saw the boy close his eyes and struggle to control his reaction but when sound came from his lips, it was a doggie howl and not a human cry. He cowered down and licked his mistress’s shoes while Susannah watched another purple weal appear where the whip had landed across the fleshiest part of his buttocks.
At first Susannah had felt envious of Rex, wanting to hold Emma’s attention herself; three was a crowd; but now she was not so sure. This whipping was extreme and dangerous. She was convinced she wouldn’t have been able to stay in role but would have disgraced herself by making a great fuss. Then Susannah saw something that really surprised her. Despite everything, Rex’s cock was still erect; in fact it looked thicker and stiffer than it had looked before the whipping started.
Could it be that he was stimulated and aroused by the pain he was experiencing? She knew it was possible if you were of a certain type and if you had strong feelings for the person dealing out the punishment. She knew the truth of that only too well. Perhaps this boy was as besotted with Emma as she was, perhaps more so. He probably worshipped her and welcomed every kiss of the lash. Susannah felt jealousy well up inside her again.
Could she ever become Emma’s unrivalled favourite, number one in her affections? What did she have to do? She asked herself this question not only because of Rex’s feelings but also because Emma’s face looked so rapturous as she whipped the boy as if she was transported to a higher plane of consciousness where pure pleasure took her over.
Yet she was aware enough to manipulate the whip so skilfully, not lashing him blindly so the wheals ran in all directions, criss-crossing each other like lines at a railway junction, they were neatly arranged one under the other as if they’d been painted on – were it not for the fact that they were in relief not flat like paint.
Crack! Another lash delivered.
Again, the trance-like look in Emma’s eyes.
Finally, the dog-boy lay supine at his mistress’s feet and she placed the toe of her shoe on his cock, then made him bear her weight. She walked up and down his body as he lay on his back and returned to step on his cock again; grinding his erection under her heel until eventually he came.
Susannah saw the close-up on the monitor, then heard the director shout, ‘Cut!’
***
It was not long before Chrissie saw that Anna brought out the same feelings in Andy that she’d witnessed with other men.
He kept her naked and made her help with the decorating, but when she turned her doe-like eyes on him she evoked the same contempt.
But Anna’s perceptions were different.
‘I like him,’ she told Chrissie. ‘He is not a pig like the men I have known. He is more what you call an English gentleman?’
‘He’s a teacher,’ said Chrissie.
‘Yes, more educated, more refined.’
‘But he’s a man. You said they’re all the same.’
‘I’m sorry, Chris,’ she said. ‘You like him yourself? Are you his girlfriend?’
‘I’m his slave.’
‘He beats you?’
‘He beats me.’
‘Will he make me his slave?’
‘I think you already are. That’s why you’re naked.’
‘I don’t mind being naked for him.’
‘Be careful, Anna.’
‘Why, Chris? You think he’ll break my heart?’
‘You need time to recover from all that’s happened to you.’
‘But Andy is very handsome.’
‘Yes, he’s good-looking.’
Chrissie could understand how relieved Anna was to be free from the threat Price and his cronies had held over her. She was not living in constant fear and she wasn’t required to service an endless procession of men who wanted to abuse her body. She seemed to enjoy painting the rooms, pleased to be doing something with a purpose.
But when Anna sent Andy signals that she was grateful to him for giving her food and shelter and began to fawn on him, hero-worship him, Chrissie saw him recoil. Anna seemed oblivious to his reactions, unable to read his face or his body language. It could only be a matter of time before he flogged her, and when he did it would be because of his aversion to her, not because he was attracted to her. He would not do it for sexual gratification, rather to vent his anger.
Her eyes followed him everywhere when he was in the house and her face bore a vacuous smile that Chrissie thought would irritate anyone. She even picked things up for him and volunteered little services which wasn’t really the point of a slave.
Chrissie could see him seething with rage, like a volcano preparing to erupt.
The first outward sign was when he slapped her hard across her face. Chrissie watched Anna’s expression, one of fleeting surprise, then she composed her features quickly.
‘I’m sorry, Master,’ she said.
‘Sorry for what?’
‘For what I did to make you cross.’
‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know, master, but I am very sorry.’
‘Get out of my sight,’ he told her. ‘Paint in the other room.’
She obeyed, glancing back with the inane smile restored.
It seemed what Andy had done had not dented her confidence; she was accepting the slap as getting what she deserve
d, having transgressed in some way.
Chrissie had not seen Anna make any particular mistake, anything specific to incur his wrath. She assumed Andy’s irritation had simply boiled over for a second and he hadn’t been able to stop himself hitting her.
But it was disturbing for Chrissie because it reminded her of what Brian used to do. He would strike out without any apparent reason and hit her with his open hand or sometimes with his fist. There seemed to be no particular trigger.
The difference was in her reaction. Chrissie had just tried to get out of Brian’s way, distance herself, remove the provocation. There was nothing she could alter in her behaviour to appease him because she didn’t know what it was about her that sparked him off.
Anna hadn’t even registered that she was a source of irritation let alone work out why. Chrissie began to share Andy’s feelings about Anna.
She didn’t like the way she was being reminded of her time with Brian; since meeting Andy and Emma she had managed to put all that to the back of her mind.
She didn’t like the way Anna had changed the way Andy behaved.
Instead of using her to work off some of his aggression, he hadn’t bothered with her since she had returned to the flat. Anna appeared to be putting him off sex altogether.
He was spending more time out of the house and the two girls were left on their own, with Anna getting on Chrissie’s nerves. It was his vacation, so Andy didn’t have to go to college; she wondered how he spent his time. It was Anna who was driving him out of the house and Chrissie hated her for it. It was Anna who was driving a wedge between herself and Andy. Although Chrissie’s feelings for Emma had been stronger than her feelings for Andy, now that Emma was away (she hadn’t been to the flat once since Chrissie had returned – she wondered if Emma was on the island) her desire to serve Andy was growing stronger each day.
‘Why do you have to be in Andy’s face the whole time?’ she asked Anna.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Demanding his attention every second. Can’t you see he’s sick of it?’
‘He likes me. He is not sick.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I see the way he looks at me,’ said Anna.
