Kneeling for a New Life (the Amber Memoirs) - Cover

Kneeling for a New Life (the Amber Memoirs)

Copyright© 2026 by E. J. Bullin

Chapter 8: The Hose and the Night Outside

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 8: The Hose and the Night Outside - Based on the incomplete serial “Amber and Emily Saved by Aaron Adams” (2019, Storiesonline). This remaster expands the original 24-hour timeline to three weeks of initial trial, then eleven months of growth, all from Amber’s first-person perspective. The original author’s plot, characters, and key scenes are preserved and honored. Any errors have been corrected, and the story has been deepened with internal monologue, extended kennel sequences, and a fully realized ending.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Coercion   Consensual   Reluctant   Romantic   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Fiction   Incest   Mother   Daughter   BDSM   DomSub   FemaleDom   Humiliation   Light Bond   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Facial   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Safe Sex   Voyeurism   ENF   Nudism   Transformation   AI Generated  

I woke up in the kennel, shivering.

The barn was cold. The thin blanket beneath me did nothing to keep out the concrete. My thighs throbbed where the belt had landed, and my breasts were still purple and swollen. I tried to stretch, but there wasn’t room. The cage was too small.

Internal: You’re a dog in a box. That’s what you wanted. That’s what you got.

I heard footsteps. Aaron’s boots. Then the jingle of keys.

The padlock clicked open. The door swung outward.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning, Master.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit with a belt.”

“You did.”

He helped me crawl out of the kennel. My legs were stiff. My back ached. I stood up slowly, leaning on him for support.

“Emily’s still inside,” he said. “Making breakfast. You have time to wash up before we eat.”

“Wash up? In what?”

“The hose.”

Internal: The hose. Outside. Cold water. Of course.


The hose was attached to the side of the house, coiled on a rusted hook. Aaron turned on the spigot and handed me the nozzle.

“Strip,” he said.

“I’m already naked.”

“Then wash.”

The water came out in a shock of cold. I gasped, almost dropping the nozzle. The spray hit my chest, my stomach, my thighs. The welts screamed.

Internal: It hurts. God, it hurts. But it’s clean. It’s honest.

I washed as best I could my face, my armpits, and between my legs. The water ran pink where the belt had broken skin, then clear.

“Enough,” Aaron said. “Emily’s waiting.”

I turned off the water and followed him inside.


Emily was at the stove, flipping pancakes. She was naked, of course. Her ass was still pink from the ruler, and she moved stiffly, like she was sore.

“Mom,” she said without turning around. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I made pancakes. Aaron said I could.”

“That was nice of you.”

“It wasn’t nice. I was hungry.”

Internal: Same old Emily. Bitchy to the end. But she made pancakes. That’s something.

We ate real plates, real forks, real maple syrup. The pancakes were good. A little burnt on the edges, but good.

“After breakfast,” Aaron said, “we’re going to finish the demonstration.”

“More?” Emily asked.

“Yes. The cane. The kennel again. And then something new.”

“What’s something new?”

“The truck.”


The truck.

Aaron had mentioned yesterday a trip to town for supplies. But he hadn’t said anything about the kennel being involved.

“What about the truck?” I asked.

“We’re going to town. You and Emily need supplies, cigarettes, and maybe some clothes. But you’ll be riding in the kennel.”

“The kennel? In the truck?”

“In the bed. Facing the cab. Locked in.”

Emily put down her fork. “You’re going to lock us in a dog crate and drive us to town?”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.”

“It’s a choice. Your mother wrote the rules. She said you’d do anything to prove yourselves. This is proof.”

Internal: He’s right. You wrote the rules. You said you’d do anything. This is the test.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Emily stared at me. “Mom.”

“I’ll do it. You don’t have to.”

“Like hell I don’t. If you’re doing it, I’m doing it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Aaron said. “After the demonstration, we go to town.”


The demonstration resumed in the barn.

The cane was laid out on the workbench, thin, flexible, dark with age. Aaron picked it up and tapped it against his palm.

“Amber. Kneel.”

I knelt.

“This is for the lies you told about Boss. The ones you still haven’t admitted.”

I flinched. “I told you everything.”

“You told me about the gangbangs. You didn’t tell me that you went back. Again and again. That you begged him to pass you around.”

Internal: He knows. How does he know?

“I didn’t”

“Don’t lie.” His voice was sharp. “Not now. Not after everything.”

I looked at the floor. “Yes, Master.”

“Twenty strokes. On your ass. You’ll count. You’ll thank me.”

I bent over the workbench, gripping the edge. My ass was still sore from the belt, but the cane was different. Worse.

The first stroke landed like a line of fire.

“One. Thank you, Master.”

“Two. Thank you, Master.”

“Three. Thank you, Master.”

I lost count. I lost myself. There was only the cane, and the pain, and the tears.

By the tenth stroke, I was screaming.

By the fifteenth, I couldn’t stand.

By the twentieth, I collapsed onto the workbench, sobbing.

Internal: It’s over. It’s finally over.


But it wasn’t.

“Emily,” Aaron said. “Your turn.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“You’ve been watching. You’ve been learning. Now you need to feel.”

“I didn’t break any rules.”

“You cussed at breakfast. Twice. ‘Hell’ and ‘damn.’ That’s two infractions.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Bend over.”

She looked at me. I nodded.

Internal: Don’t interfere. This is her lesson.

Emily bent over the workbench. Her hands were shaking.

“Ten strokes,” Aaron said. “You’ll count. You’ll thank me.”

The first stroke landed. Emily gasped.

“One. Thank you, Master.”

“Two. Thank you, Master.”

“Three. Thank you, Master.”

By the fifth, she was crying. By the eighth, she was sobbing. By the tenth, she collapsed next to me, her face wet with tears.

“Good girl,” Aaron said. “It’s over.”

He helped us both stand. We leaned on each other, mother and daughter, bruised and broken.

Internal: This is what it feels like. Discipline. Pain. And underneath it all, love.


The garden hose came next.

Aaron led us outside, into the yard. The sun was high, but the water was cold.

 
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