Beauties and the Beast
Copyright© 2026 by TheNovleist2000
Chapter 4
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 4 - This is a long story about Mira, her cousin Cher and the pet that is kept in the basement. It explores kinks like pet play, BDSM, lesbian love, etc. The story starts off slow, but you can skip straight to Chapter 2 if you want.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Lesbian Cuckold Incest Cousins BDSM DomSub Humiliation Spanking
Nothing revealed the hierarchy in the household more than when Brucie made mistakes. I was watching TV one afternoon and I heard Cher calling out my name from her room. From the tone, she sounded really angry.
When I entered her room, I found Brucie on all fours, right on top of a spot soaked with piss. The white strands of Cher’s rug had turned to grey and become matted together. It was apparent that Brucie had relieved himself in front of Cher.
“Get that fucking dog out of here,” Cher shouted as she threw away the cane. The entire behind of Brucie was red with stripes, and he was yelping.
“What should I do with him?” I asked.
“Lock him up in his cage,” Cher answered. “Starve him tonight. He must learn from his mistakes.”
I did as I was told and brought him to the basement before locking him up. Then, I had to return to Cher’s room with a bucket and rag to clean up the mess. Rubbing away piss from the rug on my hands and knees while Cher kept harping on about my uselessness pissed me off.
It wasn’t my fault that Brucie pissed on the rug. It wasn’t his fault either. The door must have been shut when he had to go. With no way to get to the backyard and no way to communicate his need to Cher, he was left with no option but to piss there. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Cher’s.
But I didn’t say any of that to her though. I was her employee, and my life revolved around her. So, I kept my head low and kept scrubbing away the rug until the smell was gone.
After everything was done, I went down to the basement to tell Brucie that it wasn’t his fault. I stroked his rump and watched it tremble to my touch. Cher’s strokes must have stung him really bad. I slipped a piece of cheddar I brought from the kitchen into his cage and promised to him that I would feed him as soon as the morning came.
I spent some time with him that day in that basement. I watched him drift to sleep, his ribs rising and falling with each breath. Even in these conditions, he was a magnificent creature, his back curved with grace and his skin glowed with sweat.
I wondered if he dreamed. What kind of dreams would they be?
Was he a man in his dreams? With clothes, dignity and freedom to do what he wanted? Did it dream about going to work, meeting friends, being in a relationship with a girl?
Or did he still crawl in his dreams? Did he dream of finding a bowl of water on the floor? Of his favourite scraps falling in front of him? Of seeing his sitter through the bars as she made her way back to the stairs after locking him for the night?
Was it duty? Pity? Love? I didn’t know what it was, but I felt something that night.
The next day, I kept him with me all morning in my room as consolation for the abuse he went through the day before. I fed him all sorts of things—pieces of toast he might like, some fruit, even chocolate.
Cher would’ve been against all of them but I thought “screw her.” She was out that day anyway, and it was up to me to decide what Brucie should get.
Whenever he wanted to pee, I brought him to the bathroom, so he could pee on the floor without having to crawl all the way to the backyard or basement. I read him books and even told him stories of my childhood.
Around afternoon, I let him loose to roam around the house. I made sure that every door was open so that he could get in and out without having to wait until I found him. To be honest, it was oddly satisfying to not know where exactly he was in the house.
That was something I never let happen in the past. He was either with me, or I would make him stay at a particular place like the living room. Now, with this new arrangement, he could crawl anywhere in the house. Every door was open for him, except for the front door and the door to Cher’s room.
Every now and then, I would try to find him to make sure he was ok. I found him once beneath the dining table, perhaps looking for scraps that were yet to be cleaned up. Once, he was sprawled outside the courtyard door in the shade. Another time, he was tucked behind the sofa in the lounge.
But the place he visited more than any other spot was his basement. He seemed to like the coolness and dampness of it, and I found him curled up behind one of those tarpaulin sheets on more than a few occasions.
That evening I knocked on Cher’s door. My visa was about to expire soon, and I needed her to officially employ me.
“Come in,” she called, not bothering to look up from her laptop.
I stepped inside, fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. “Can we talk?”
She glanced up, expression unreadable. “About what?”
“The job,” I said. “I need it to be official. I need a contract ... something I can show for visa purposes.”
She leaned back slightly in her chair, arms folding across her chest. “Sure ... I can give you pay slips.”
“The pay,” I said, my hands fidgeting more. “It doesn’t meet the minimum requirement for visas.”
She glanced back at her screen, scrolling idly, clearly uninterested. “You want more money?”
I nodded, my hands clasped in front of me.
“No, I won’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just a student. Papa gives me an allowance — I don’t have that kind of money.”
My heart sank. She obviously did. I’d seen her spending large amounts on bags and jewellery. “Please,” I started to beg her.
She looked at me again. “I can put a higher number on paper though.”
I stayed quiet. I didn’t like the sound of that — but it was better than nothing.
She went on, her tone smooth, practical. “But no one is gonna believe that sitters earn that much, so I am filing you as a maid.”
“As a maid?” I muttered. I wouldn’t want people back home to know that I stayed here to be someone’s maid.
Cher gave a slow smile, her eyes fixed on the screen.
“But if I’m filing you as a maid,” she said, her voice like velvet over glass, “then I expect you to act like one.”
She turned slightly, just enough to look at me. “Mopping floors. Cleaning bathrooms. Doing my laundry. Scrubbing whatever I tell you to scrub.”
Her smile widened, almost amused. “You’re still Brucie’s sitter, of course. That doesn’t change.”
Then she added, voice dropping lower, more deliberate.
“The maid duties are just ... let’s say, extra. A little bonus that comes with the paperwork.”
She then took out her purse and handed me a small stack of cash. “This is for this month’s allowance,” she said.
That night, I could not sleep. I sulked in my room. Being a maid meant my life would become a lot more difficult, and there would be no decent pay to compensate for it.
After I called my mother about my new job, she was overjoyed. I didn’t tell her the truth, of course — only that Cher had hired me as a dog sitter. She kept going on and on about how blessed we were to have such generous relatives. I could barely stand to listen.
I tossed and turned in bed. In just a few months, Cher had quietly crept into every corner of my life — and before I realised it, my whole world was already revolving around her. I didn’t know what tomorrow would look like and what kind of problems would come into my way.
“But I’ll have a roof over my head,” I told myself. “And food...”
“All I have to do is do what she says,” I whispered, turning on my bed again, the sheets brushing my skin like a quiet reminder. “Just keep your head down and don’t get on her bad side.”
Suddenly, the memory of that night popped into my head. I was in front of that officer again, and Cher had the hem of my nightie lifted.
This time, Cher offers him. “Go on ... officer,” she says. “Touch it.”
His hand approaches and then before I know it, he has both of my pussy lips between his thumb and finger. He pinches them and I yelp. “That’s for being a nosy bitch,” Cher whispers.
The officer is laughing. “A bald pussy ... Just the way I like it.”
Cher then tells me to kneel. “Take his cock out,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.
My knees buckle as if the ground beneath is giving away. “Suck,” she continues. A moment later, he cums in my mouth, his salty seed coating my tongue.
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