Snout Mask Replica

Her instructions had been explicit. I find the door of her house ajar, step inside, strip and put my clothes in a bag. Then I place the dog collar around my neck, buckle on the mask and muzzle, and attach the chain lead. On all fours I crawl along the corridor, go down stairs into the cellar where I find a cage. I crawl into it, chain myself to the bars, slam the door shut, lock the padlock and wait.

I inwardly recite this mantra, "I am a dog, a sub-human animal."

I try to concentrate on the bars that cage me, the collar and chain which hold me, and on the realistic dog mask and muzzle, which takes away a lot of my human appearance. An hour or so passes. My mind is going down, and I realise that I no longer breathe like a human but pant like a dog. I fall asleep for a while with my head on my paws.

I awake to find someone has visited for there is a large dog bowl filled with water. I get back on all fours and strain forward, lapping it up and whimpering with pleasure. The Mistress enters. She is powerfully built. I cannot believe how beautiful and assured she is clad in her uniform, with tall black, highly polished elegant leather high-heeled boots, and a peaked cap pulled low over her eyes almost covering her bobbed blond hair. Her arms are splendidly feminine in long kid leather opera gloves. A pearl bracelet around one wrist draws my attention to her strong tapered fingers, which hold a dog whip. She is every inch a Mistress, a million miles removed from the dog in front of her. I whine with excitement. She unlocks the cage, reaching to release my chains. I cover her gloves with licks, beside myself at being owned and controlled by this woman.

She pulls on my lead and I follow, still trying to lick her gloves. I crawl behind her into a dark room where many candles burn. There are other women, all dressed in military uniforms of various kinds, holding leashes at the end of which dog slaves sit respectfully at their Mistress's feet. I am led to the centre and my leash chained to a spike in the ground.

"Sisters, tonight we have a new dog. It has had little formal training but already knows the rules that govern a dog's behaviour and we shall have to judge for ourselves if it has learned its lessons. To see if it is ready we must test it."

My Mistress commands me to roll over and brings the sole of her boot onto my snout and I lick it, doing anything to show that all I want is my Mistress's pleasure. I am commanded to stay. One of the other Mistresses approaches with her dog slave and it snaps at me. I am the lowest, for the others are established dogs and so senior to me. The dog growls, moves round to my bottom and sniffs. I cower and whimper as it tries to mount me. My Mistress pulls the other dog away and I gratefully lick her boots.

I hear my Mistress say, "It has passed the tests." They all voice their assent. "It has not uttered a human sound despite provocation; and it has submitted to a bigger dog although its primary concern will always be its Mistress. I propose we now induct it into our society."

The others agree. My Mistress places a padlock onto my collar, and produces a key, which she throws away.

"This serves to reinforce your basic atavism. You are inferior to me in the evolutionary scale of things. "

Leather mittens are fixed on my hands and feet and pads placed around my knees.

"You will live on all fours; at the end of your week's training you will be branded to mark you irrevocably as my property. Up on your knees my humble dog, and show me my property - your prick," she says in a firm commanding tone.

I obey at once thrusting forward my hard organ. She smiles at me and reaches out a gloved hand, which holds a deadly slim plaited dog whip. She runs its tip over my body down between my thighs, under my balls and up and down my throbbing erection.

'Entertain me my animal, wank to your Mistress's beauty." She orders.

I masturbate my erect tool, feeling shamefully humiliated with the other women watching.

"Good doggy, now cum on my command," she says smiling cruelly at me, clearly feeling exhilaration from her total power.

I jerk away, my breath coming faster and my eyes fixed on her boots. "Oohh Ahh," I groan.

My copious juices spurt onto the floor and her boots. "Ahhhnn" I moan.

"Good dog slave," she says tapping my head with the whip.

"Now clean my boots you wretch!" her voice comes from above, and my tongue lapped the gleaming black leather slavishly. Her voice comes again "The soles too".

My masochistic desires and devotion to her overcomes all resistance as I continue my degrading task.

"Now its time for this my dog boy," she says showing me a black six inch dildo with a bushy tail fixed to the end. She orders me round tugging on my leash and I present my ass to her. She works the tail firmly into place then tugs me round to face her again

"Beg me to push it in further" she demands.

She lets me continue pleading for a few minutes, then forces it in. Mistress stands up "To heel my pup, now crawl after your Mistress," The sight of my owner's shapely long legs before Me and the pull of the leash as she walks Me round the room, plus the dildo in my bottom, drives me to yet another hard on.

I am returned to my cage, and I watch her perfect, leather clad derrière walk away.

I pass an uneasy night with the chain of my leash fastened short to the bars. I am yanked awake every time I try to turn. My dog collar is bigger, wider than any slave one I have worn. I somehow manage to unbuckle it. I sleep fitfully, disbelieving that I had been so stupid to get into something as deeply as this. I have no idea when morning comes but am bored and restless by the time my Mistress appears.

I reach for my collar as I hear her descending the stairs but am not fast enough so am caught with it falling from my mitted hands. She doesn't say anything but crosses to the cage and unlocks it. I am suddenly very scared. She towers above me; still in her uniform with the tall gleaming thigh boots and, from under the brim of her peaked hat, I can see fury in her flashing green eyes. I hesitate and she says curtly, "Out."

I begin to stand up to stretch. She grabs hold of me, throws me to the ground, and begins kicking me.

"You useless cur. Have you learned nothing?"

"Please," I moan, "Don't hurt me." This enrages her even more.

"You're a dog and dogs don't stand or remove their collars."

"Please," I cry, "this isn't turning me on any more."

"Turning you on! Do you think that this is what it is all about? It's my turn-ons that are important, not yours."

She storms out of the room, banging the door and locking it. She returns with a large bag, clanking ominously. I edge my way into a corner for safety. Delving into the bag, she comes up with a metal collar, snaps it round my neck and locks it. It feels heavy and bulky - there is a small box like contraption fitted on top of it. As she gropes in her bag again, I say quietly,

"Look - can't we discuss this for a moment?"

She glares at me and continues - she fastens a thick chrome collar around my balls. She stands back to admire her handiwork and with an evil grin she brings out a black box and flicks a switch.

"What were you trying to say?" I hesitate, "Go on - what ever it was, and say it. SAY IT!"

"Well," I begin. Pain shoots through me. I fall to the ground, trying to focus my mind, and not to pass out with the shock.

"Try again, dog." she waits.

"I…" again the pain.

"Now bark." I shake my head.

"Bark!" she orders. "Bark like the dog you are or I'll turn the current up." I have no choice - the collar is voice activated so I bark quietly and fearfully, waiting for the pain. It doesn't come.

"Louder! Come on, louder, dog." I bark louder - still nothing.

"Now whine." I whine - no reaction.

"Pant." I pant - the same.

"Growl." I growl - still nothing.

"Whistle." The pain shoots through me.

"Any time you make a noise which is not canine, the current will be made active. You looked like you had potential yesterday. You have disappointed me. I'm going to have to work harder on you. I'll let you into a little secret to show you how kind I am. I'm not going to ask you to stand up. If you do, the pain will shoot through you and will stop only when you are back on all fours like the dog you are. Now get back in your cage."

I go into a state of shock. It wasn't just the physical pain - it was the realisation of what I had let myself in for. When my libido was at its most pronounced I went through a hot fantasy; an uncomfortable night had led me to think otherwise but now I was forced into accepting the reality. In my cage I couldn't stand up. But I believed my Mistress when she told me this was the case. I was going to have to concentrate on behaving like a wholly devoted dog slave.

I don't see my Mistress for some time. I am kept in my cage in the dark and someone feeds me. These unknown masked women instruct me in the 'basics'. I am taught to 'stay', 'fetch', 'rollover', 'beg', offer a 'paw'. On the command 'show' I raise my haunches, spread my legs, head up, and eyes straight ahead, waiting to be inspected. If I don't respond quickly enough they all carry training crops and lay into me at the slightest show of reluctance or defiance on my part. They don't detract at all from my dedication to the one I serve as they all operate as extensions to her.

I am given vocal sessions where I am taught to bark in different registers to express various emotions. The same goes for whining and whimpering, growling, and howling. When not making other dog sounds my tongue has to protrude as far as it can, emulating a 'lolling' movement at all times.

Exercises in body movement include crawling on my hands and knees, but for faster movements, my knees have to be raised from the ground, while my 'paws' continue to rest on it, like a poised runner. I am assured that muscles will build in time. I am taught to lie and stretch, flexing my muscles, as a form of relief from the cramped positions. Wagging my tail is another art, diffident, questioning, almost imperceptible movements to frenzied waggling. I am trained to the leash, which is attached to a nasty spiked choke collar - a sharp tug to this ensures my obedience. I am taken outside to a long, cold yard to relieve myself. First I have to sniff for a suitable place, then cock a leg and urinate.

I am praised but in an offhand manner. So I learn what they want me to do and my behaviour becomes increasingly instinctive. Goaded on by their crops, I struggle to be a total dog slave. I have to become more submissive than any dog, rushing to lick their boots when they appear, rolling over on my back exposing my genitals, licking hands that punish me.

It is no longer a case of my remembering modes of behaviour. These are all 'programmed' in me - I don't have to think when I hear a command, I simply execute it. My human behaviours are the last vestiges of my struggle not to accept the submissiveness, which lies at the heart of my being. I confront the fact that I am living a lie in my everyday life. It is my dog life that represents my real nature. Before I came to this place, much time was spent living in the 'real' world and only a tiny percentage given over to my slave nature. This has been overturned, and I feel it in every part of my being.

Having been denied even a sight of my Mistress for days, I am determined to prove to her that I have really learned my 'big lesson' and want nothing more than to be the dog that she desires me to be. I hear the click of her stiletto-heeled boots sounding down the hall then the key in the lock. I am on my knees, panting and whimpering, straining at the chain. The door opens and she steps in, locking it behind her. I keep my eyes lowered for, dog though I am, I am also her slave and know my place when confronted with my Mistress.
Her boots are now in my line of vision. At the sight of them, I can't help it - I start barking.

"Enough!" she says, firmly and quietly, "Welcome your Mistress."

She sticks her right boot through the feeding hole of my cage and I fall on it, slobbering and licking, proud that she has granted me this honour. It's as if my life depends on it and indeed it does. If I do not measure up to her exacting standards I will be rejected, now and forever. Today represents my best chance of finding myself and ensuring my happiness. I will not fail! I lick and worship with extreme focus.

I learn the subtlety of inflection that my Mistress uses to convey her exact requirements. I am punished for falling short of the ideal. I am chained and she whips me; no build up, just short, sharp punishment, administered not cruelly but effectively and dispassionately. And I bear it without a whine because I want it, need it. I know that I have deserved it; I am disappointed that she doesn't whip me harder because there is nothing I would not undergo to prove myself worthy of her attention. I am not only dog but also slave and must be punished accordingly. I relish the strokes like a kiss. It is too short for what I deserve.

It sends me down, into the darkest recesses of my mind and slave soul, where it becomes the purest pleasure.

She knows all this as she whips me because she says, a laugh hovering behind her words,

"If I ever suspect that you are deliberating making a mistake in order to be punished, you can be sure I'll devise something much nastier".

When she returns, she has brought a black leather bag. She takes out some electrodes. It hasn't entered my mind to do anything but behave in a fully dog-like way.

"You have done well, considering how badly you started the training process. You have been brought face to face with your real nature. But the process isn't over. You must be marked. The chain around your neck will never come off and nor will the other rings I will put on you."

My dog training deserts me as I realise that I am going to be pierced without anything to dull the pain, not even a heightened sense of being a slave, which has seen me through the punishment beatings. She senses my unease.

"You'll endure this for me, slave; without a murmur, as you've been taught. It's what I want and you need. I know you'll suffer through it but I will be so proud of you once it's done."

She lays her implements out. I cannot bring myself to watch because needles have always terrified me. My heart beats wildly and yet there is a curious sense of calm behind the fear and I reach out to that to help me. Her final act of charity is to gag me.

First my nipples. The sense of a ritual being enacted provides me with a raft of support and as piercing follows piercing I find that this marking is what I want.

Next another just below my ball sac. By this stage I abandon all control. As the ring is inserted I pass out - not from the pain, but from ecstasy. I feel my journey is at an end.
But the end never comes when you expect it to. I come back to my cage - my piercings bandaged. There is no sign of anyone. One of the biggest differences between the old me and the new dog slave is that increasingly I am in the present. It's the happiest place to be - memory can bring pain, and projection into the future brings fear. This is the secret of a dog's happiness, it lives for the moment and is happy there. And so am I.

My Mistress returns in a serious mood, calm and purposeful. Without ceremony I am released from my cage. A dog leash is attached to my collar and I am pulled along a corridor. I smell leather and hear the crackle of a fire. I am led forward and commanded to sit. I am back in the room where my induction took place.

My Mistress bends down and carefully, even tenderly, removes the bandages. As each piece of tape comes off I whine softly for the wounds are new and vulnerable. She hands me light chains. My Mistress knows that she no longer has to impose her will through pain. A single chain passes from one to another and padlocked in place, will add to the pressure on these sensitive spots. The ring on my balls is singled out for special treatment - a very short chain goes from it to a ring set in the floor and padlocked there.

I am held in place by her concern for my body, and that I find more powerful than any chain. But chains have their symbolism and the combination makes a potent mix. A ritual is being enacted above my head but the words pass through my mind without recognition. My mind is elsewhere. It is revelling in its degradation, in all the marks of its servitude, in its desire for more and more humiliation.

I feel the heat from the iron as it approaches slowly, so that I will be aware of it and not lose myself in anything other than the reality of the moment. From the sheer amount of heat I know that this is no insignificant mark that will be overlooked in a locker room although I doubt I could ever be seen in such a macho environment again. As the iron descends I rise to embrace it as it burns into me. My heightened senses scream silently with the intensity of the pain; my soul bucks like a bronco but my body does not betray me and is still.

Applause breaks out but I am indifferent to it as my Mistress raises my head and spits forcefully on my face. I open my mouth and she spits again, directly into it. Then she pats me on the head, as my tongue tries to lick as much of this precious substance as it can.

"You have passed all the tests and have graduated from the training programme. You are marked permanently as my property. You will be released when your wounds heal. I can recall you at any time." Tears fill my eyes. She says, "What's the matter? Permission to speak, dog slave."

"Mistress", I stammer, "please don't send me away. Let me stay and live as your dog slave. I beg of you…"

But what chance have I of changing her mind with human words? As a human I mean nothing to her. But surely she has not trained me so thoroughly to dismiss me now? I sink to her boots, panting and whining, willing her to change her mind and keep me with her. There are humiliations she hasn't imposed on me, ones I would gladly offer up if only she would keep me to use and abuse when the mood takes her and otherwise consign me to my cage which gives me the sense of being really alive and fulfilled.

She smiles and says nothing.

But she sends me away as she had said she would.

I lie awake on my floor collared and leashed and wait for the phone to ring and recall me, above, the bed where I no longer sleep, cannot sleep. Docile and obedient under her firm hand, the time is now surely ripe for the next stage in her plans for my total slavery…

Marquise