Bitchin'

I had talked with Pete about what I was supposed to do and how it was supposed to work. "I can't give you a definitive answer about what I expect from you", he had said. "I can't explain to you how I wish for Hannah to turn out. She is *yours* now. The training of slaves is a difficult craft because there is not 'the one right way' to do it: Every human is different and reacts differently to pain, humiliation, fear or anger. Every Master or Mistress aims for a unique kind of end result. What result do *you* aim for, Jennifer?"

Looking down at Hannahs' restrained, bizarre shape I still wasn't sure about that. What result did I aim for? What I was sure about was that it was too late to go back now. I activated the wristband and heard a weak humming noise from Hannahs' collar as it began to load up. She produced a whining noise and frantically began to struggle with her restraints once more.

"Calm down, it's fine. You're not getting shocked as long as you are a good doggie", I explained to her. She kept making frantic, unintelligible noises but at least stopped her fruitless struggling for the moment. I continued: "I want you to obey my orders. If you do that we're going to get along just fine. Do you understand that?"

She made a noise that sounded a lot like a girl with a cruel gag in her mouth trying to say 'yes', so I administered a weak shock that made her yelp. "I don't want you to do that, for example", I said. "Don't try to talk like a human. If you want to say 'yes' you bark once."

She looked up to me, which was hard for her because of those strict restraints and because of the collar, and her blue eyes were flowing over with hate. Drool dripped from her lolling tongue while she stared at me and then, just as I already put the finger back on my wristband, she barked once. It wasn't a real bark of course, but it came close enough - a coughing, gagged noise, filled with disgust and anger. I let it pass and nodded. I grabbed the butt-plug with the short, fluffy tail as a counterweight. I approached and she shuddered and began to complain again. So I, again, let her collar hum softly. Hannah got the message and stood still, and I could place the plug against her ass and begin pushing it into her.

I had no idea if the girl had ever been fucked in the ass before, but she definitely rolled her eyes like someone who had not yet made that experience. Or maybe it was because this wasn't really a *small* plug. But it went in good enough, set firmly the way it was supposed to be. Hannah exhaled audibly, her eyes still wide, her body under a new kind of tension. I couldn't help myself, I just *had* to grin as I pulled the crotch-strap around, secured the plug and let the padded part of the strap sink in between her cuntlips. The way she looked straight ahead in this weird, introspective way... the things Pete had said and her reaction to the suit...

"You've used this stuff on other girls before, haven't you? Or at least stuff like this, if it wasn't the same."

She tried to nod. Gleefully, I zapped her.

"Gh...ghouagh!" This had been as close to a bark as possible for her, so I nodded.

"So that's why you look like that. You've never tried anything like thison, but you've put it on others. And is it fun now? Does it feel the way you expected it to feel?"

No answer, so I zapped her again. First she squealed, then she gave two barks, shaky and resentful. Her ass quivered, still trying to get used to the plug. I hooked the leash to her collar and stood up again.

"Well, you're going to get it to know good and proper. Let's go."

She tried - I have to give her that. But 'walking' in the suit had to be fucking hard, putting strain on her muscles in a way the human body was not used to. Hannah wobbled one step on her stumped limbs, then another step, and then, with a complaining shriek, just fell on her side. She flapped around with her folded arms and legs and was lost in her fury for a moment. Then, as I zapped her again, she yelped, twitched, tried to scream insults at me.

Somehow this turned out to be the exact moment in which I found out what kind of a trainer I was: I felt just the tiniest bit of sympathy for her, and going to my knees in front of her I told Hannah, calmly: "Listen, bitch. This isn't one of those lame-ass lectures you used to attend until you knew barely enough of the curriculum to somehow cheat your way through the course." She blinked as I continued. "This isn't your expensive fucking fitness studio either, and I'm not your personal trainer. There is no way out of this for you. There is no way around this for you. I own your ass, and you are nothing than a fucking *dog* to me, and if you think you can just say *this is too hard* and give up, and that I would accept that, then you completely misunderstand the severity of this fucked-up situation you've gotten both of us into."

I stood up, fingers on the wristband.

"Now sit! Or I swear to God I will just destroy you."

She tried to get into the sitting position. I zapped her when it became clear she didn't move fast enough and was testing my determination. She screamed again. Then she came into a weird, crouching position that was close enough to how a dog would 'sit'. She was already trembling from the effort and she was growling under her breath, so filled with hate that it spilled over.

"Good. Now get on all fours."

She did, with a lot of effort. Moaning, the bondage and restraints that held her creaking, she balanced back into that position. She had acted fast enough and didn't get zapped again for now.

"Good. And now you follow me, stay at my heel, or I will punish you again."

I walked very slow, but still this proved to be a lot harder for Hannah. I heard her panting and wheezing as she forced herself forward on wobbly 'legs'. I only turned around after maybe ten steps, as we arrived the cell door.

Seeing Hannahs' outfit in action was fascinating: It had to be hellishly confining, but on the other hand did not seem to crush her. As she moved her elbows and knees were protected by the heavily padded material. The limbs also could strain and work inside their bondage just enough so that I was pretty sure they wouldn't be hurt permanently. The suit would not cut off the circulation to Hannahs' limbs, which was maybe the cruelest feat this fine piece of craftsmanship possessed: Releasing a victim from this degrading outfit was not necessary! Maybe it would not even be strictly *necessary* even after a girl had spent days or weeks inside the bitch suit.

"Go on girl, you go on", I said to Hannah as she struggled forward. I watched her reach the corridor. There she halted, leaning against the wall with her side. Her flanks where moving rapidly, her breathing very fast now. Her tongue disappeared for a moment, and then she pushed it back out, drooling even more than before. She looked at me pleadingly, and what I could see of her face - essentially just the skin right around her pretty blue eyes - was covered by droplets of sweat.

"Go on", I repeated. I knew I sounded stern. That was because this made me more aroused than I would ever have anticipated, because the power I had over this bitch was the strongest kind of rush I had ever felt. I did not want this feeling to stop. But more than just that my newfound sternness came from another source as well: I was riding on a wave, trusting my intuition on how to handle my prisoner. And my intuition told me that it was much too early to show any kind of mercy. "Did you hear what I said, bitch? Walk towards that door. It will lead to the backyard of the house. Maybe someone sees you and tells the cops. Do you want to waste that opportunity?"

Hannah blinked, confused and suspicious. I smiled as she got moving again, awkwardly and slowly wobbling towards the door. I had not lied: The steep ramp did lead out of the basement and to the back of the house. But that didn't mean that anyone would ever see her here: No one visited this place anymore and the large yard behind the house was overgrown with vegetation, surrounded by hedges and secured with a rotten but pretty high fence you couldn't see through. I could as well have allowed the puppy to take a walk on the back of the moon.

But at least my words had motivated her enough to cope with the burden of her bondage for long enough to actually reach the exit. I opened the door and Hannah blinked when daylight fell on her. She moaned, shivered, looked up at me and yelped when I zapped her again.

"Stop with the pleading and the goggling, you fucking psychopath", I told her. "It's not going to help you. Just get the fuck going, like a good doggy."

She did, but even more slowly than before. Reaching the yard I could see the disappointment in her eyes and the degradation she felt, standing outside in the bitchsuit, her firm small tits hanging from the holes in her outfit, the drool and sweat dripping down on the muddy ground beneath her. She swallowed hard as I clipped the leash to her collar and she coughed and complained again as I jerked the leash.

"Ouuuogh..AAACK!" I had administered a slightly more painful shock this time, because her attitude was really beginning to piss me off. She was slightly cross-eyed now and I suspected that the collar, administering the shocks so close to her brain, might not be a real help for her orientation, concentration or the general well-being of her frontal lobes, but what the fuck did I care? Maybe her attitude would improve once her brain had been cooked a bit.

"Stop fucking complaining, or I will piss in a damn bowl and have you drink it after we are done, Hannah." I would not have done that, frankly. But she seemed to believe it and followed me, clumsily and panting, as I slowly led her across the whole yard. She fought with every step, soon smelling like a girl baking in sweaty lather is prone to be, and she sobbed a few times. I didn't know for sure if these sobs were genuine or not, but for each one of them she got zapped again.

Despite her bad condition her tail kept waving joyfully with every step. It was a pleasure to behold.