Ivan Petrovich Pavlov (September 14, 1849 — February 27, 1936) was a Russian physiologist, psychologist, and physician.… Pavlov is widely known for first describing the phenomenon of classical conditioning. In his most famous experiment, a dog was conditioned to salivate at the sound of a bell because that sound had been associated in the past with being fed.…
Asi set his iPhone on the table in the crowded restaurant and tapped the play button. My heart skipped several beats — he never did anything without purpose, and I wondered what that purpose could be, here and now. The sound spilled out of the device and infiltrated my body first and my brain second. Then, I understood everything and I got very scared.…
One year previous.
Beginning a relationship with a new dominant is always tricky for me. I’m not really interested in anything casual, so I always take my time. We chatted online for several weeks before we met, and, even though I was ready to give myself to him much sooner than that, Asi made me wait the three weeks we discussed initially. Even over Skype video his presence was commanding, though he was soft spoken. The first time we connected in this way, the computer screen showed an empty chair backed by red curtains that covered the window behind. “Just a moment, Milana,” he said, then came on-screen and sat in the chair, putting his mug of coffee on the table just out of sight. Asi looked like some sort of Nordic god — like Thor or Heimdal — long blond hair in a tail at the back of his head, clean-shaven, strong jaw, and broad through the chest. His ice-blue eyes pierced me through to some heretofore undiscovered depths. I remember that the look was enough to make me melt. It’s not that I felt inadequate in the looks department: if he was Thor, then I was Danica — the Slavic Daystar — tall, lithe, and willowy, with long black hair and eyes that were as grey as a stormy sea.
The first time we met in person was in public at a coffee shop. He said that he wanted to know if our vibrations were compatible. “It’s hard to feel someone’s vibe through the computer,” he’d said. Much of his language was auditory. ‘I hear what you are saying.… It sounds like that made you happy.… I didn’t like her tone.’ I didn’t realize it at first of course, but looking back on it the way he spoke, it foreshadowed what came next.
By the time we did get together for our first scene, I was so completely frustrated that it had taken so long for us to get there that I was ready to dive in and let him do whatever he wanted to me. My reaction was out of the ordinary for me in two ways. First, it really hadn’t been that long, but there was something about Asi that made me want to give myself to him. With other dominants, I’d mostly had to take a fake it until you make it approach. Submission doesn’t come naturally to me, but I knew I had to give it to get what I needed from the encounter with any dom. Second, I’m usually very careful about negotiation, especially in the first scenes. It only makes sense. You’re going to put yourself at the mercy of a stranger — and face it, all doms are a little bit crazy no matter how well you believe you know them, there’s always that day when they surprise you and you think Who the hell is this guy?— so it’s a good idea to set clear limits on what’s going to happen. But with him, I was just ready to let him take me wherever he wanted.
“Just make whatever you do our first time something really special,” I’d said. That shows how unusual our relationship had become already. Normally, I’d never have the audacity to tell my dominant how to treat me, because it was an open invitation for him to use me hard. Somehow, I’d come to trust him, so I didn’t care. We’d discussed my hard limits and I trusted that he wouldn’t transgress them.
He followed me into his play space and said that I should walk around and ‘sound’ the place out. It was Japanese in style. Dark stained wooden ceiling and support beams, tatami mats covered the floor, and the far wall was shoji screen doors. You know, the ones made of rice paper and wood that slide open. I went there first and opened one of the panels. I had a hard limit with respect to public exposure and an even harder one when it came to public humiliation. It was easy to imagine being strung up from the ceiling beams, and having him slide those panels open and expose me. I wanted to know to what. The garden beyond was small and private. It could contain twenty or so ‘spectators’ if he wanted to go that way, but today, it was empty.
Suddenly I got very self-conscious. I could feel his eyes on me. I closed the screen and turned around. He was seated on a low raised platform set on the far wall that faced the screens and the garden. He sat like a Hindu god with one foot tucked against the opposite thigh and the other dangling off the platform, foot resting lightly on the mats. He gave me a crooked little half-smile when I turned and made a gesture to the floor in front of the platform. Many doms might want a sub to crawl forward in such a situation. I started to drop to my knees and he gave me an almost imperceptible head shake, so I just covered the ground in quick strides and stood before him. I was very nervous and didn’t know what to do with my hands. Usually, I’m much more relaxed. I tried them on my hips, but that seemed too arrogant. I tried clasping them in front, but that seemed too concealing. My palms were sweaty and I couldn’t help drying them on my thighs as I shifted my hands first to my sides and then clasped them behind my back.
“That will do,” he said, and I couldn’t help but detect the hint of amusement in his tone.
Having got my arms sorted, I now started getting anxious about how I was standing. I didn’t know why I was so agitated. I’d never been like that before, but I realized then just how much easier it is to just kneel and crawl. At least then you know what goes where. The way he handled me had left my comfort zone far behind and two counties over. I was about to try adjusting my feet when he said, “Show me the piercings.” We’d discussed them at length and he’d seemed very interested in them. I had captive bead rings in each nipple, a vertically placed barbell that passed through my hood in two places and rested against my clit, and a stud in my tongue.
“Yes …” I realized I didn’t even know how to address him. We had talked about so many things, but not about what protocol he wanted to use. I had intended to bring it up, but somehow I’d never gotten to it. I just stopped talking and unbuttoned my blouse, shrugged out of it, and held it in one hand. I didn’t want to just drop it on the floor, but it was in the way now. He reached out his hand and I handed it to him.
“Continue,” he said as he folded it and set it on the platform next to him. I unzipped my skirt and pushed it down over my hips. That was all that I wore, having removed my shoes at his front door already. I hadn’t wanted to trouble him with underwear until I knew what he liked. I realized I’d made the right decision. I handed the skirt to him and he folded it as well and placed it on the blouse. “Closer,” Asi said, and I stepped forward. My breasts were right at his eye level. They weren’t huge, just C cups, but crowded on my narrow ribcage, and my breasts angled mostly forward rather than to the sides. It was something that most men liked.
“Closer,” he said, and I took another step forward. He took the nipple rings and gave them a good tug pulling me forward and down, making me gasp. It wasn’t that it hurt, much, but the contact after so much anticipation sent quite a surge through me. Then he lifted them until I was on my toes and doing a little back-bend. Then he brought me back to neutral. Next, he took a hold of both beads on the clit piercing, and twisted first one way then the other. Then he applied gentle pressure forward until I was forced to take a step. “Open.” I knew he meant my mouth. It was the only piercing left. He grabbed the stud on both sides and gave it a tiny tug. “Excellent. Sit here,” he patted the platform next to him and I sat. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”
The question really threw me. No one had ever seemed to care if I had questions or not. Obedience was all they wanted and the less talk the better. “Most dominants,” I began hesitantly, “demand submission, but you are not like that.”
I didn’t continue and his eyebrow came up followed by his crooked little half-smile. “Is there a question there somewhere that I missed?”
Oh god, I thought at the faux pas. “No. I just wondered … uh … why?”
“Why should I demand what you will give me freely? When you submit to me in a situation where you really don’t want to, and then realize you loved it after, then we’ll have done something special. If I say kneel or crawl or even suck me and you do just because you think it’s your role to do so, that’s nothing special. Even if you endure some trial that I’ve set for you, you won’t be doing it to prove something to me, you’ll be doing it to prove something to yourself.… Anything else?” I shook my head.
He stood up and left the room. As I watched him go I realized that I saw his point. Much of what I’d done before at the direction of other dominants was superficial. It was really just a game. Then I got a little scared. He’s really going to push my limits, I thought. Make me submit to things I don’t think I can or want to do, and after …? Will I really love it? Or will I feel … violated? Actually, both thoughts triggered a little tingle between my thighs and there was a gush inside and the dampness between my legs grew.
I’d seen spanking frames before, of course, but not one like the one he brought in. It was constructed of rattan rather than the usual wood or steel and it was taller than any other I’d seen. He set it in the center of the room facing the sliding panels. He patted the frame and I rose and climbed onto it, putting my knees and forearms on the padded surfaces. It was so tall that my head was at the level of his chest. The top was contoured and gave me a place to rest my weight that ran from just below my breasts down to my hips. There were no straps. He took a coil of rope and bound one leg to the frame with swift and expert movements, tying me from just below the knee all the way to the ankle. Using three more coils, he tied down each of my limbs in turn. Using another coil of rope he bound my hips down, and finally, with one more, he bound my head into the face cradle. I’m too high for him to fuck me, I thought. There was a part of me that wanted to feel him inside me. What if he stood on the platform? It was certainly possible. It wouldn’t be hard for him to slide the frame back across the mats to the edge of the platform.
He left the room and I expected him to return with impact tools, canes, floggers, paddles, maybe even a single-tail. When he did return I was surprised that what he carried was none of the above. What he carried was a huge brass bowl, fully two feet in diameter, about a foot high, and heavy. It looked like it must weigh forty or fifty pounds. He set it on the floor between me and the sliding panels just inside my limited field of view. He took a cloth wrapped bundle from the bowl and stepped out of sight with it behind me. I was terribly curious about what he was doing. He came back and pulled a short wooden club from inside the bowl, then he ran it around the outside of the bowl’s rim. At first nothing much happened, just a clangy, twittery sound. Then a sound emerged from the chaos, like the sound a crystal goblet makes when you run a wet finger around the rim, only much, much deeper. The sound grew, distant, like rolling summer thunder. It was a low pitched hum or growl, but also a little raspy with some higher pitched overtones. It grew in density rather than volume. I say that because it never did seem particularly loud, but it seemed to fill up the room, and as it did, the waves of sound lapped over my body gently like a calm sea.
I closed my eyes and let the sensations move over and through me. Then I became aware that he had been stroking me on my back, thighs and my ass. His touch had been so light at first that I wasn’t sure when it started, but as the sound of the bowl began to die out, his touch seemed to crystallize out of the background. He gave each of my ass-cheeks a hard slap, then went back to the bowl and got it going again with even more intensity. For some reason, I could feel the vibrations more intensely where he’d slapped me, like two big flaming hand prints on my ass. I’d become more than a little bit aroused and I was ready for him to do more.
“Put out your tongue,” he said. I obeyed immediately, and he hooked two loops in the thin silken cord over the stud on top of my tongue and over the keeper on the bottom. Hanging from the cord two feet below me was a silver bell. It wasn’t that heavy, but the weight did drag down on my tongue. The bell began to vibrate in sympathy with the bowl and the vibrations came up the cord, into my tongue, and from there into my head. He attached a clamp to my ear in the thick cartilage at the base with a bell dangling off a cord attached to that. It hung down by the other and they looked like a flying saucer and his wing-man. Then he did the other ear, and now it felt like my whole head filled up with the ringing coming from the saucers flying in close formation below me. The sensation was so strange. The ringing made me feel almost as if I were drunk or high on pot, and I couldn’t think at all. When the sound began to die out, I could feel that he’d penetrated me both vaginally and anally with his fingers. He’d been stroking in and out of me, but while my head had been ringing, I wasn’t aware of it in my mind, but my body was incredibly aroused and seemed to remember the feeling.
I let loose with a really odd sound, half sigh, half growl. It was an expression of my intense arousal, an approval of his treatment of me, and a plea for more. “I want you to hold out against the sensations for as long as you can,” he said.
Hold out? I thought. With what? The ringing in my head siphoned off all of my willpower. I was a leaf in the wind, going where ever it took me. Powerless in a way that was frightening and liberating at the same time. He used the little wooden club to start the bowl ringing once more and the sound filled my head, taking me away again.
When my head began to clear again, I became aware of an even more intense level of arousal. Three bells had become five. The two new ones were hanging from my nipple rings and these two were rather large and heavy. As the vibrations died away I became aware of the pain, but that did nothing to damp out the arousal. My ass was on fire as well, he’d been spanking me. It also felt like he’d been massaging my pussy and asshole again. I could feel the orgasm building uncontrollably. I was going to come and there was no stopping it. Then the ringing invaded my head and I went away again.
I came back expecting to be in the afterglow of the gigantic orgasm that must have occurred while I was gone and I was feeling a little cheated that I’d missed it. As my head cleared though, I realized that I hadn’t come yet. Then I also realized that the vibrations had spread. I could just make out the sixth bell that was hanging just off the floor down between my legs. It was not as large as the ones hanging from my nipples but it was big enough for me to feel the pull intensely. The vibrations were being fed up the cord through the piercing and right into my clit. Adding to that, was an intense vibration in my ass. I heard the cane whoosh in the air and it stitched a line of fire across my ass. Again, I started to come immediately, until the ringing in my head took me away again.
I went in and out several more times and each time I came back the sensations were more intense, but he always started up the bowl again and sent me back into nirvana.
My eyes snapped open when the ringing in my head suddenly stopped. I could see his hands holding the three bells hanging from my tongue and earlobes. That had stopped the vibrations instantly and completely, but not at the point where they were dying out anyway. No. He’d stop the bells and cleared my head right after he’d restarted the bowl. My head cleared and dropped me right in to that cyclone of intense sensation.
“Oh, god!” I screamed around my stretched tongue. I thrashed and the two bells hanging from my nipples swung into each other with a Doyng! and an increase in vibration. The extra bump in sensation drove me wild. I was screaming wordlessly now. I heard his cane whoosh, but it didn’t slap into my flesh. Instead there was a loud Ting! and the sensation in my ass jumped up to eleven. I was sure I couldn’t take any more, but then he tapped the cane into the three bells hanging from my nipples and clit, one after another. He played me like a musical instrument for a few minutes, never letting the orgasm completely come to an end. When it was finally almost spent, he released the bells on my tongue and earlobes which he still held and they immediately began to pick up the dying vibrations from the bowl. Then he started the bowl going again, and I was gone.
The bells dropped from my tongue and earlobes, one, two, three, and the ringing was finally gone. He lifted me up off the frame like I was a child with one arm between my legs and up my chest and the other over my shoulder and clasping the first. He put my limp body down onto the floor on a futon he’d rolled out. He arranged my limbs for comfort and lay down behind me. I could feel his erection pressing into my ass. I thought I should do something about it, but he stopped me as I began to turn over. “No. Not now. Just sleep,” he said, and I did.
Go to Atavistic Body Arts and see Ray for a full body wax, was the first part of his text message.
No, I flatly rejected that. It was a limit with me; not exactly hard; a stiff limit, maybe. I kept my patch waxed down to just a stylish little oval over my clit so that I could wear a bikini, and kept the creases, where thigh meets hip, clean so that none of my dark hair would be visible along the sides, but I left the rest alone. I looked hot in a tiny white string bikini; it went well with my skin tone. Other Doms had asked, insisted, and even threatened to try to get me to go bald down there, but I’d always pushed back. I’d left one Dom over it, when he wouldn’t let it go. Another had tied me up and come at me with a pair of tweezers. I’d red-lighted the bastard and we didn’t stay together long after that. I’d discussed this with Asi and I thought he’d accepted my position.
My phone chimed as it received the rest of the message. Do this, Milana, or don’t bother coming to see me ever again.
Go fuck yourself, Asi! I quickly typed into the input box. I stared into the screen where the words of my utter refusal were trailed by the little blinking bar of the cursor, and my finger hovered over the Send button. Can I really end it like this? I wondered, and moved my finger away. We’d just had the one session. It was fantastic. The best I’d ever had with anyone, and it only promised to get better. He treated me very well outside of play time, too. Better than anyone ever had. He was warm, sweet, funny, chivalrous even, but when we played, he was deadly serious. Could I talk to him about this? But I knew this was non-negotiable on his side. I realized that my chest was tight, my breathing was shallow, and my heart was pounding. I’m scared, I realized, but I wasn’t sure exactly of what. Scared to lose him? Or, scared to lose myself? I moved my finger down to the delete key, backed over those scary words and felt better immediately. Can I think about it? I sent.
My phone chimed again after what seemed like just a short time, Of course you can think about it. You’ve already begun to do that. I’ll be waiting for you at 7:00. Come hairless, or don’t come at all.
The process was clinical. The technician, Ray, professional. The result was … strange. Losing the hair over just those few square inches of skin did something to me, and I was sure that Asi knew that it would. For the first time ever, I was truly and completely naked.
So that’s how it began.
Asi liked most things Japanese. Art, architecture, interior design, and most of all, food. Choucho was a sushi place that Asi liked. He was very friendly with the owner and always got the best he had to offer. It was a beautiful little restaurant and one of the things I liked best about it was the little strip of indoor garden that ran down the center dividing the place into two halves. Lots of places used plants of course, but this was set right into the floor which gave it a very exotic feel.
We entered the restaurant and a friend of Asi’s waved to us. “Hi, Asi,” he said when we got closer.
“Mark,” Asi greeted him tersely, but with a good deal of warmth in his voice.
“This is Darcy,” Mark said, then continued in a lower voice, “She’s my new sub.” Darcy was my polar opposite. Short where I was tall. Blond where I was dark. Round where I was thin. But the biggest difference was, she was meek where I was not. She was dressed in a rather revealing outfit. A very short, very tight dress, a sequined tube-top, and stiletto heeled pumps. Her make-up was over done, and so was her jewelry, nasal septum piercing, long dangly earrings, and a slave bracelet. She also wore a leather collar buckled around her neck. Mark picked up his spoon and dropped it down under the table. “Get that for me,” he ordered, and Darcy squeezed under the table. I was sitting next to her and she had her hand on my thigh for support. Mark reached under the table and he must have grabbed her hair, because I felt her jerk in his direction. “You want some of this, Asi?” he asked, all the while looking me up and down.
Share and share alike? I wondered. He obviously wanted me. I looked at Asi, and he did not look happy which made me happy, getting shared out by a dom was among the hardest of my limits.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that, Mark,” Asi sighed. “It could cause trouble for Takeo. Let’s try to keep our private games private. Shall we?” Mark looked more than a little bit angry. He was about to do or say something foolish. “Milana, why don’t you and Darcy go to the ladies,” Asi suggested in a way that was not a suggestion. I helped Darcy out from under the table and we went.
“You are so lucky!” Darcy said to me a few minutes later. “Asi is so hot. I wanted him to take me. I did everything but break into his house and crawl naked into his bed.” She was still fixing her over-done make-up. I’d already brushed out my hair and put it back in a tail. “As you can see, Mark can be a little scary at times. Asi’s not like that is he?”
Oh, you silly little bitch, I thought. You have no idea!
She turned to me and said, “You’re really gorgeous.” She stepped into me with a unexpectedly intimate hug. Something that I’d noticed only subliminally in the restaurant came clear just then due to her proximity. It was her smell, like Mark had fucked her hard just before they’d come to the restaurant and hadn’t let her shower after. It was the smell — not of arousal, though there was some of that too — but of old, stale sex. It both aroused and revolted me. Her hand slid down my back onto my ass. “We should get together without the men, sometime,” she suggested.
I got angry, then contained myself. I pushed her back by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I appreciate the offer, Darcy, but I’m not the least bit bi or gay.” It was in fact the top thing on my hard limits list. Just above public humiliation and public exposure.
“Please, Asi,” I begged. This was some weeks after the waxing which now seemed a lifetime ago, and like something that had happened to some different person. Some stranger who had a limit with respect to her pussy hair. I was someone else now who loved the feeling of being completely naked. But here we were again, bumping up against another limit. Maybe it was a harder one, or maybe not. I was changing under his influence, and it was hard to tell. “I don’t like anim …” I began, but cut myself off under the glower of his disapproval.
He didn’t play me— that’s what he called it when he put me in the frame, hung the bells from me, put the butt plug with it’s attached tuning fork inside me, and used the bowl. He didn’t play me everyday — we played everyday now that I’d moved in with him. That had happened right after I’d gone hairless. Anyway, he didn’t play me everyday, and if he was about to push some limit, he’d avoid doing it for a few days before. Then, he’d push me, I’d eventually yield, he’d have his fun with me, and then I’d get my payoff. It was always very intense the first time after a hiatus. The worst thing was when he’d get out the bowl with no intention of playing me, and he’d run the striker — that’s what he called the little wooden club — around the rim. The sound got into my head and made me stupid, but it also roamed over my flesh — mostly clit, nipples, and anus — and drove me crazy. Not crazy enough to come, but it did make the play and sex after more intense. It wasn’t the same though. Sometimes he’d skip a day just to make the next time better, but sometimes he’d skip several days because he was about to push my limits. This was day four of this break and I was worried. The animal play thing was a limit, but it wasn’t a four-day-break limit, so unless he was just trying to screw with me, then something bigger was up.
Once again I considered packing my bags and moving out. Like Denial was the first stage of the Kübler-Ross grief model, Leave Asi was where I started when he pushed me. I guess that’s a bit like denial. Then I’d get mad, and Anger was the next step in the grief model, but the next step, Bargaining, was never an issue because he wouldn’t. There never was any time for Depression, so I’d skip step four and go straight to Acceptance. The grief-model doesn’t have a step six, but I did, Liberation, I guess. I always felt an odd mix of freedom, and happiness, but with a touch of anxiety over where will this end? I’d been through this process enough times to know it well, but that didn’t make it any easier. This time, I walked past Denial, hurried through Anger, jumped over Bargaining and Depression right into Acceptance. I picked up a knee pad and pulled it on.
“Good girl,” Asi said, and when I looked into his face he was smiling. I was filled by my love for him, could feel his for me, and I was quickly nudging up against Liberation even though the limit hadn’t even begun to be pushed and there was going to be a lot to get through still. I looked forward to after when I get my reward — I’d be his instrument and he’d play me.
I finished with the kneepads, then got the dog’s collar and leash put on. I picked up the tail. It was more like a horses tail than a dogs. A butt-plug with an up-curved silicone backbone around which the individual hairs were braided until they burst into a horse-tail-like plume. “I’ll do that,” he said and took it from me. All that was left were the paws. I couldn’t do those myself. I picked one up and slipped my hand into it. It was like a glove, but with a stiff leather palm and no fingers. He tightened the laces up the back and tied them off, then held the other while I put it on.
“Get on your knees, bitch,” he snapped. He’d never called me that before, or anything else derogatory for that matter, so it stung. If I’m a dog and I’m a girl, then I am a bitch, I realized, and that made me feel a little better. I dropped to my knees and he petted my head. “Turn around and let’s do the tail.” When it was done, I could see it a little if I looked back and when I moved it waggled and bobbed sending interesting sensations through me. I trotted around a little bit in front of him both to make him happy and to try out the sensations and the associated feelings. Then I heard it. The bowl was on the floor in front of the platform off to one side. He’d moved over and used the striker to start it up. The sound got into my head.…
A moment later — or was it more? — I was drinking from a dish on the floor. It wasn’t actually a dog’s dish since it had a straw to suck the water through. It was more like those bowls for children only bigger, a quart or so. He’d set it out and ordered me to drink, and I had done it in a stupor, I recalled. The dish had been full and I’d almost emptied it by half.
“Bitch!” Asi said, and I looked up at him. “Fetch,” he ordered and tossed the rubber ball toward the screens. I had never been more humiliated in my life. I went straight back to Denial, thinking about calling this off, getting my things and getting out. Asi picked up the striker and I got really scared. I didn’t want him to play it, because I knew that it would make me stupid and compliant, but it wouldn’t do anything to lessen the humiliation. Maybe it even deepened it. I tottered across the room, picked up the ball in my teeth, and brought it back to him. I wagged my tail and looked up at him, feeling the sensations in my ass mix with the humiliation, and his obvious pleasure at my state. He stood astride me and petted my flanks ending with a little tug on my tail which all felt amazing.
Then more tricks, heel, roll-over, sit, stay, come. Finally, he made me sit and put a pretzel on my nose and stay there until, on command, I’d toss it up, snatch it out of the air, and eat it. That last was the worst, or so I thought. “You must be thirsty after all that hard work, so finish your water.”
“But …” I began.
Smack! He slapped my ass very hard.
I shook my head. I already needed to pee, that’s what I was going to say, and I knew the water would make it worse. Then I got it. That’s exactly the idea. No experience of being a dog would be complete without being taken for a walk by her owner. A walk that culminated in the bitch taking a doggie-style pee! This was another limit of mine, anything to do with water-sports was off the table, or so I thought. I started to stand up in full on Denial, but he grabbed my leash and held me down by it. “Bad bitch! Do I need to beat your ass with a rolled-up newspaper? Now drink!”
I moved over into Anger and, for some reason, I growled at him. I guess because it would communicate my feelings in character. Right after that, the humiliation swelled. Oh, god. I am a bitch. His bitch! and that thought got me moving on through the stages. Skip Bargaining as pointless, flirt with Depression, but what’s the point of that, and slide right on into Acceptance. I dipped my head and drained the bowl, feeling a little Liberation.
“Good girl. Good bitch,” he crooned, obviously pleased. “Now sit.” I sat and he looked down at me from the platform. After a few minutes I couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, I looked down. Several more minutes went by and my bladder was starting to complain, just as he knew it would. He did nothing about it. Another few minutes passed, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I tottered over to the shoji screens, whined exactly like a dog that needs to go out before she soils the carpet, and picked up the end of the leash in my teeth to offer to my master. Master, I thought. He’s never asked me to call him that, but that’s what he is.
He stood and crossed the room, took the leash from me, and put his hand on the screen. Then it hit me, Oh my god! What if the garden were packed with his friends come to see the bitch’s first walk out for a pee! The panel slid back to reveal an empty garden. Or was it? I was still very paranoid and looked for someone hiding in the bushes. He nudged me out. I went straight for the nearest patch of garden and came up hard against the leash. “Not there,” Asi said, and led me all the way down to the end. The dry-zone he called it, where the native grasses and other plants grew. “These need the water, so let them have it, girl.” I expected bitch, but he’d said girl. I guess he was pleased with me. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen. I bore down trying to get it to start. It was hard through the nervousness and humiliation. When it did start, I lifted my leg to keep from wetting myself. The stream came out just about where I expected and my physical relief combined with my utter embarrassment and his obvious pleasure as he said, “Good girl!” I looked down and saw that arc of pale-yellow fluid squirting out of me and pattering into the grass, and the humiliation swelled inside threatening to burst my chest. A single tear slipped down from my eye and across my cheek, but under it all was a seething mass of arousal.
When I was done, he patted me dry with a tissue, took me back inside, put me on the spanking frame, and played me longer and harder than ever before.
As time passed, Asi continued to push my boundaries. Somethings he did just because they were my boundaries. Needle-play and fire-play were just one time things. Electrical-play came and went for a while. That wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected it to be, and better than I could have imagined. Through it all, he made me his little bitch. Made love to me as a dog, punished me as a dog, and walked me out in the garden to do my business. The humiliation stayed with me throughout everything, and it braided in with and became a part of my pleasure. Being his dog became one of my more powerful fetishes. The only thing more powerful and constant than that was the bowl and the bells. He tried tying me in different ways, but for the most part the frame worked the best. He once suspended me from the beams in the play-room and did the bowl and bells. That was interesting, but he had to cut it shorter than either of us wanted to because my circulation was being cut off. Ten or twenty minutes of suspension is about all most people can take.
“You should meet me at Choucho tomorrow at 3:00,” Asi had said. It was our one year anniversary. One year of bliss. “And wear the dress.” The dress was his favorite. It was black, tight to the hips and snapped all the way down the front. In addition it had small vents along the sides that showed some bare flesh, but he liked them because they were big enough for him to get a hand through. When I wore that dress for him, I could be sure that he was going to have his hands on me, either through the vents or he’d undo a snap or two. It was his way of pushing against my public exposure limit without sending me over the edge.
When I entered the restaurant, I ran into Mark and Darcy. “Here to meet Asi?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, and caught sight of him sitting at a table at the very center of the place. That was unusual. He liked to sit out of the way so that he could feel free to touch me — or other things — if he wanted. Just the thought of it made me shivver and made me wet. I went to him, gave him a kiss, and sat down. He took out his iPhone and tapped the play button. My heart skipped several beats — he never did anything without purpose, and I wondered what that purpose could be, here and now. The sound spilled out of the device and infiltrated my body first and my brain second. Then, I understood everything and I got very scared. The bass hum of the recording of the bowl made my head feel stuffed with wool, that stupid stoned feeling. It wasn’t as strong as the bowl itself. Then I noticed the little table next to Asi and the round shape sitting on it covered by a towel. The light dimmed a little and I turned. They’d pulled the curtains, locked the door, and put up the closed sign. I looked around the room at the faces and they all were looking at me. Many of them I recognized as Asi’s friends. The rest are friends of friends, I thought. Two men had just set the spanking frame in a space they’d cleared at one end of the room.
“Are you sure we can’t fuck her, Asi?” Mark asked, stepping up behind him.
“Look, Mark, I’m just not that generous. If you want one like her why don’t you send Darcy to me for training? I’d be happy to do it.”
“Yeah,” Mark said looking at his feet. “I’m just not sure I’d ever get her back.”
“Maybe not,” Asi laughed. He set the dog dish on the table, then the paws, knee pads, collar with attached leash, and the tail. He began to fill the dish with water. “Get the dress off, put your outfit on, get on the table and start drinking while they inspect you,” Asi said. He was planning to expose me, in public. Take his little bitch for a walk and have her do her business, in public— the little strip of indoor garden would be adequate for that. Then, he was going to play me for them, in public.
I stood up. Denial and Anger mixed in me. I was going to give him a piece of my mind and then storm out. Except, the doors are locked, I thought. They’d have to let me out wouldn’t they? Both stages drained out of me. I reached Bargaining. “Play the bowl for me, it will help me get in the mood.”
Then Asi proved himself to be a true sadist. “No,” he said.
I took a quick turn through Depression,Oh, god! What have I got myself into? then I reached for the snaps on the dress and Acceptance. Before I could change my mind, I pulled on the knee pads and buckled the collar around my throat. I slipped one paw on and held it out to Asi and he laced it up then helped me put the other one on. He patted the table and I climbed onto it. He took the tail and, even though I’d worn that thing dozens of times in the past, and he never had any trouble getting it in anymore, he did now.
He leaned down and whispered into my ear, “Close your eyes and remember the sound of the bowl.” I couldn’t help myself. The memory of the bass hum invaded me, mostly between my legs, but also in my nipples as well, and the plug slid into me. “Here’s your water,” he said and pushed the dish under my face. I took a sip and then felt unfamiliar hands slide down my back and onto my cheeks with a final little tug on my tail. I looked and the first person in the line of people doing inspection had his hands on me. Darcy was a little way down the line and she smiled and waved. Oh god, please. I thought the embarrassment might just make me pass out. I considered drinking faster to hurry the process along, but then I worried that I be stuck there with my bladder full to bursting and have to stay there like that until I either couldn’t hold out anymore or until the inspectors had finished. I sought out Asi and found him standing a little way across the room. The look on his face was blissful. He loved watching me like this. Then a very complex series of inner impressions passed through me. I felt myself and my own seething emotions of utter mortification, and the intense overlay of arousal. I also saw that Asi saw and knew what I felt. Then I could see that he knew that I’d seen what he saw, and that made what he felt stronger. It reflected back into me, but was interrupted when I loosed a moan of intense pleasure as someone’s fingers slipped right into my cunt.
“You are so wet!” Darcy whispered into my ear. “Are you sure you’re not bi? My offer stands, think about it.”
I thrust myself back onto her hand and began to shake. Smack! Asi was suddenly at my side, he’d slapped me hard on the ass. “Don’t you dare come yet!” he growled into my ear. “Get a grip on yourself.” I closed my eyes and wrestled for control. “Move along, Darcy,” he said, and a new pair of hands glided along my body. Asi had his hands on my thighs and that seemed to keep back anyone who might want to emulate Darcy. Each pair of hands was different and each one threatened to push me over the edge. Some touched me reverently and gently. Some were harsh with some slaps and pinches. It was not in general the men who were rougher with me, it was the women. One touched two long-nailed fingers to my lips, teased my mouth opened and slid them toward the back of my throat. I couldn’t stop myself from closing down on them as she withdrew and then thrust into my mouth again. I wasn’t sure if I was glad when it was over or not.
“There are only a few people left,” he whispered into my ear. “Better get the water down.” I dropped my head to the bowl and drained it with several long hard pulls at the straw. Shortly, the last inspection finished and I could feel the urge in my bladder beginning to build.
Asi took my leash and guided me down onto the floor. He took the striker from the bowl and ran it around the rim. The low bass hum began to build and I was glad for it, I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand to perform for him in front of the people and keep myself from going over the edge. My head went numb. When it cleared a little while later, I was able to recall what had happened while I was away. He’d walked me down the center of the restaurant and had me do my business in the garden. Then back to the bowl and he revved the sound up higher than I’d ever heard before. He had to move me away from it to keep me from coming. He taken me to a tall very pretty blond in a black leather skirt and top. She had one leg resting atop the other and her knee high boot floated a ways off the floor. Asi unzipped her boot and pulled it off to bare her foot. “Lick it,” he ordered and I did. I could smell her scent and the leather of her boot as I tended to her toes. She pulled them back to expose the sole of her foot and I licked that as well. The humiliation flooded in with the memory.
“That’s a good little bitch,” she’d said. “Mama likes that,” and she’d patted my head.
“Please,” I whispered looking up at him back in the now and another rapid series of he saw, she saw, occurred and left me weak, gasping and fighting for control of myself. Not yet, I thought sternly.
He unsnapped the leash from my collar, “Go,” he ordered and pointed at the frame. I scampered to it and up. When I put my face in the cradle, I noticed that he’d added a new feature. There was a mirror set right below my eyes at an angle so that my field of view went straight out on the horizontal. Since the frame was faced into the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall, I could see myself and the crowd behind me. Please, Asi, make me stupid again, I don’t think I can take this if you don’t, I begged and hoped he could read my mind.
He set the bowl down on the floor, then quickly secured my body with the rope. Then as if he had read my mind, and being the true sadist that he was, he began — as he had never done before — to hang the bells without first starting up the bowl. He started with my tongue and ears. Next, nipples, and cunt. Then he took out my tail and picked up the ass-fork. He’d never put that into me while I was not under the influence. He put some extra lube on it and applied it to my hole then eased the huge thing in. “Oh, god, no!” I groaned as the thing split me. “Please, Asi,” I begged. He knew what I wanted, but he wouldn’t give it to me. How long would he torture me like this? I wondered.
He took up the cane and slashed me with it, then tapped the ass-fork to start it humming. Immediately I was on the doorstep of coming and beating on the door for someone to let me in. “Hold it,” Asi growled in my ear. “I’m going to start your head last, so you better hold out.”
I struggled and eventually got myself under control once more. He tapped the ass-fork again to keep it going, then tapped the cane into the bell hanging from my clit. Again, it took my utmost effort to hold off the thing I so desperately wanted, but I must resist. He slashed my ass several more times, then tapped both the fork and bell again. He stood directly in front of me and I could see his erection straining against his pants. There was no doubt that he loved using me like this in front of all his friends. The cane whooshed in the air and bit into the side of one breast then circled back around and slashed into the other. That got the bells going a little, but when he tapped them, I almost lost it. I was there with everything going that drove me absolutely crazy and none of what helped me resist. “Please,” I begged past my stretched tongue. He chuckled and that sound made things even worse. I began to shake involuntarily, but then he tapped the last three bells and that helped keep it down. Then he started playing the bowl and that was that.
I came in and out several times during the session. Every time at a higher peak and closer to the edge of that long drop. I was used to this. It would all come back once the bells stopped.…Or would it? How could I be sure I remembered everything? I wondered before I went away again.
Eventually, he stopped the three head-bells with the bowl running at maximum. As I’d been conditioned to do, like Pavlov’s dog, I began to come like a steam locomotive with a boiler stoked to bursting. I was screaming like I’d never done before. There were murmurs of voices underlying my raw throated cries. What was it they saw? I looked and there was shock at this extremely unusual sight. Never before had they seen someone come like this. I caught Asi’s eye and he saw, she saw, happened again. What I saw was love, his, mine, and ours. He released the bells and tapped them and I went away again.
The bells dropped away from my tongue and ears and my head cleared. “Happy anniversary, Milana,” he whispered into my ear. He’d already untied me and removed everything else. I was totally spent. Asi put a sheet over me, then picked me up in his strong arms and carried me out. He took me directly to the car and put me in the back seat. A moment later the car pulled out of the parking lot.
I sat up in the back seat some time later and pulled the sheet tighter around my shoulders. “Asi?”
“Yes, my love?” he said, looking at me in the rear-view mirror.
“I feel … violated.”
“I know, but it looks so good on you.” He tapped the iPhone in it’s cradle and the sound of the bowl filled the car and my head.
“Thanks. I … I … I loved it! And, I love you.”
“I know my sweet little bitch.” Even that from him was filled with love for me.
I realized that he would continue to take down all my limits. Every last one. I got a little angry and the sound was making me stupid. I wanted to make my point using sarcasm, and I said, “So which piece of snatch will your little bitch be licking next week? I hope it’s not that cow, Darcy.”
Asi looked at me in the rear-view and smiled wickedly. “My dear Milana, you should not have said that!”