Chapter 7: The Next Week

Coach Wagner, recent college graduate, age 22
Cindy Spanner, 37, Peaches, Akita: Stacey 16
Partner is Charger
Mary Johnson, 35, Cricket, Water Spaniel: Megan 15
Partner is Pounder
Kathy Woods, 34, Baby Girl, Yellow Retriever: Angie 14
Partner is Caesar
Barbara Lane, 34, Foofu, Border Terrier: Zoe 14
Partner is Hammer
Maggie Hart, 33, Coco, Irish Setter: Karen, 14
Partner is Rocket
Ida Carter, 34, live in girlfriend
Helen Carter, 14, daughter
Bill Woods, 35, husband

Monday:

I lay in bed listening to Angie getting ready for school. I thought she had already eaten breakfast and she was walking in and out of the bedroom to the bathroom and back, up and down the stairs, while I waited patiently for her to untie my ankles from the bed post and to remove my handcuffs from behind my back: it was uncomfortable lying in that position, let alone sleeping in it all night, and my body ached.

While I waited, I thought back to yesterday and how Angie had masturbated me. It made me wet and dreamy just thinking about it and then ashamed and embarrassed because masturbation had always been to me such a personal solo activity, not something your daughter did to you. She didn’t masturbate me once but twice so what was I to do? I think the first time was by accident as she tried to pull that damn clamp off my clit, but the second was more deliberate, and I let her. I sighed. It felt nice and warm to feel her fingers inside of me, and it made me cum so hard, but she still wouldn’t let me touch her, something I wanted to do so very much. What was she waiting for?

“Good morning pet,” she smiled as she untied my ankles.

“Good morning mistress,” I smiled.

She looked at my crotch, well not really my crotch, but my cunt and ran her index finger slowly up my slit.

“Boy, aren’t you wet this morning pet,” she stated. “What naughty little fucking thoughts are in your simple little mind?”

The way she spoke reminded me of who I used to be. I looked at her and was about to say something when she raised her right eyebrow, daring me to tell her off for cussing. I didn’t like cussing and to put me down like that hurt and she knew it, but I knew there was nothing I could say to her unless I wanted to get punished so I would just have to keep it to myself.

I blushed and looked away but didn’t say anything as she ran her finger up and down my labia. “Turn over,” she said as she withdrew her finger, and as I rolled over on the bed she wiped her finger on my ass cheek. I felt her unlock the handcuffs then stand up and as I sat up she tossed them onto the bed.

She stood there looking down at me. “Same rules as last week mother.”

“Yes mistress,” I replied hopping off the bed as she walked out of the room. It still bothered me that she called me “mother” sometimes. At times like these I didn’t like to be reminded of that but now I wasn’t sure why: was it because of the humiliation, or the way it made me aware of how much our new relationship aroused me.

I hurried down the stairs after her and as she got her backpack I knelt by the front door. She walked up to the door and looked down at me smiling, and I wondered for a moment if she left me her urine in the toilet.

“See you at the church,” she said as I grabbed her left hand and licked it. “Make sure you’re on time and bring your ‘fuck me Stilettos’, the ones we bought the other day.”

“Yes mistress,” I said between licks on her hand. I had always been on time, I wanted to tell her, but she wouldn’t care if I did; it was all part of my training and she would probably punish me for mentioning it.

Angie pulled her hand away and opened the door. “I love you pet,” she said as she walked out the door and I could smell her wetness clear as anything. Whatever the vet gave us the other day sure had improved my power of smell.

“Baby Girl loves you too, mistress,” I replied just before she let the door slam shut. Where the hell that come from? I wondered. It made me shudder to think how much deeper I was getting into this sport when it should have been an equal mother-daughter collaboration.

I ran upstairs to the bathroom and opened the toilet cover. The word “CUNT” was still written underneath but I ignored it and looked into the bowl. There was no urine and I sat back on my heels, dejected. Maybe I should just ask her about her pee, but I realized that would reveal too much, make it more obvious to her that I was anxious to drink her urine. If she knew I was anxious about drinking it she might pee somewhere else just so she could play games with me. Best act cool about it, I decided.

I decided to take a shower. I looked at my crotch and didn’t see any pubic stubble and then got my hand-held mirror and held it under my ass cheeks looking for stubble around my anus. Hmmm, maybe there was some hair growing as I ran my index finger around my sphincter muscle but I would have to have Angie take a closer look to check.

My clit looked red. What drove me crazy was that small vibration that ate away at the edge of my mind, that little vibration that seemed to say “Ha, ha, you can’t cum.” I shook my head and turned the water on and delighted for a moment in it’s comforting warmth. I examined my skin: it was shiny without any more moles or blemishes and it felt smooth to the touch. It seemed to have developed a yellow tinge to it and my short pageboy hair had also got a yellow or gold tone which matched it. What was it the coach had said about my diet? That it would help to make me look like a golden retriever? I didn’t know if it was the dog food or dog treats or what the vet had done the other day, but it certainly seemed to be having an effect.

I shrugged and let the water run over me and for a little while enjoyed how good it felt to take a shower. Afterwards, I wondered if I should get dressed or not and decided there was no point in bothering. After all, I was naked most of the time anyway and besides, I think Angie liked seeing me naked around the house when she watched me on her hidden cameras. The cameras worried me: I knew she could not watch them all the time, but I could never be sure when she was. They also hurt my feelings, a constant reminder of her control, that somehow she didn’t trust me enough to behave myself.

I went outside to poop and pee. I peed in the vegetable garden, controlling my flow so I could scoot between the plants, and then I went over the dirt patch and pushed out several tootsie roll size poops before mixing them into the dirt. My hands were dirty of course so I stood up to get the garden hose and noticed a pile of poop by the hole in the fence. That damn Dane, Caesar, dropping his crap in the yard and leaving me to clean it up, the bastard! I scooped it up and put it in the dirt patch, mixing it in with my own. What the hell! I thought, his poop has to be good for something. I washed my hands and sprinkled some water on the patch hoping the extra fertilizer would bring it back to life so that when all this was over I could plant vegetables in it.

My toilet finished, I went into the kitchen to get something to eat. My food had already been laid out, dried dog food in the bowl and next to it the dog treats. I got on my hands and knees and scooped up some of the dried dog food with my tongue and sat back chewing while looking at the camera. It was surreal to think that she could have been watching me eat dog food from her school. I picked up one treat in my mouth, chewing down on it as crumbs fell to the floor. Suddenly I realized I was wet and wondered why when I ate this stuff it always made me horny. Perversion maybe?

Afterwards, I headed upstairs to start my cleaning and wondered if I should start in the master bedroom room or Angie’s room first. I chose the master bedroom and walked into the room where I used to sleep, where I used to fuck, but somehow that seemed an age away now. I felt a sudden yearning for the feel of Bill’s cock sliding into me and the scent of his spunk, and decided that when this competition was over I would be moving back in. My clit throbbed against the damned clamp.

I made the bed and put Bill’s clothes away and started a pile for washing, but when I went into the bathroom, on the floor were two pairs of pink bras, white knee high stockings and a thong panty. Fuck! How’d he get this stuff? A sudden perverted urge took hold of me and I examined each item: the bras seem okay, I mean, no cum stains on them, so I sniffed them and could smell HER sweat, Ida’s boobie sweat. I sniffed the white stockings and could smell the same stale sweat, but it was the thong that really interested me. I picked it up and ran my fingers over the material, raising it slowly to my nose and sniffing the small triangle crotch patch. Yep, I could smell her cunt on them. I took a deeper breath and felt my own cunt flooding and immediately feel guilty and ashamed. I shouldn’t have been sniffing the bitch’s thong! I should have been ripping it apart, angry and pissed off at her for stealing my husband, but somehow I was mesmerized by it, by its very depravity. I held it out looking at it, adjusting it in my hand, and guiltily look around the room before sniffing the thin material that must have covered her anus. I could sense the musky smell. ‘Jesus, what am I coming to?’ I thought and tossed the bras and stockings into the clothes pile to be washed, putting my right arm through the thong so that I could carrying it.

I packed the clothes into the washer and turned it on but decided to take the thong downstairs to the kitchen and wash it separately, being careful not to tear the triangle or stretch it out when I squeezed out the excess water. Afterwards, I put my right arm through it again, letting it air dry, and headed upstairs to clean Angie’s room.

I started with the bed by picking up the handcuffs and neatly putting them on the table with the other implements, the rolled-up newspaper, the cane, Miss Cane I had to call it, the flexible metal ruler that Angie used on my breasts, Miss Riding Crop and of course, the cattle prod. As I looked down at these implements of control and punishment, I couldn’t help but shudder: I had never realized that there would be so much to this sport. I checked they were all laid out neatly and then curled up the rope and folded the scarf next to Miss Cane.

Next I picked up Angie’s clothes and folded them neatly in the dresser draw or hung them up in the cupboard. I found a little pile of her lace bras and three thongs and I knew these had to be washed but before I took them to the washer, I couldn’t resist the temptation of the thongs. I sniffed the soft fabric of the crotch and yep, that was her smell, the smell of the delicious little cunt that night after night Angie let me gaze at as she did her homework. I licked the crotches, savoring the taste and wondering again when she would let me lick the real source, then blushed as if I was being watched: perhaps Angie was watching her hidden cameras. I quickly dropped her bras and other skimpy clothes in the washer, moving Bill’s stuff to the dryer and with Ida’s thong still on my right arm, I took Angie’s thongs to the kitchen to hand wash them as well.

I dropped two into the sink and looked at the third one: If she wouldn’t let me lick her then I should keep one of these for my personal pleasure; I could hide it somewhere where she couldn’t find it and take it out every now and then to smell and lick it. I smiled to myself and washed the first two, putting my left arm through them and picked up the third fragrant one. With Ida’s thong on my right arm and Angie’s thongs on my left arm I went upstairs to her room and lifted the mattress, putting my delicious keepsake under it. I stood up and checked the room and then went to iron the washed thongs, putting Angie’s neatly in the top dresser drawer and Ida’s in the top dresser drawer in Bill’s room.

I desperately wanted to masturbate but knew that I couldn’t and that, now I had done all my chores, there was not much for me to do until it was time to leave for today’s training session. I wondered if I should talk to Angie about bringing the others here so I wasn’t so bored and maybe they wouldn’t be so bored either.

Later, when I drove up to the church parking lot, I saw Maggie, Mary and Barb just walking into the building. As I parked the car Cindy pulled in next to me. “Hey Peaches,” I called, waving.

“Hey Baby Girl,” Peaches replied as she grabbed her bag of stuff.

Maggie, Mary and Barb were standing in the doorway watching hanging practice as Cindy walked up. I paused to watch as well, feeling that familiar thrill. A nude woman was standing on the gallows with a black bag over her head. Her ankles were handcuffed as were her wrists which were fastened behind her back and there was a girl standing behind her with her hand on the lever watching the coach.

“Go on Denise, pull the lever. Don’t make your mother wait.”

The girl didn’t look convinced. She paused and looked around the room and then back at the coach who nodded her head vigorously. Finally, she pulled the lever and the trap door opened. The girl’s mother dropped below the platform with a jerk and her legs swung out in front of her and then back. The girl ran over to the trap door, looking down anxiously at her swinging mother and then ran down the stairs of the gallows and grabbed her crop. The woman’s movements slowed, her feet barely touching the ground, and I could see her struggle a bit with her arms. I looked carefully to see if she was pissing herself but she seemed somehow to have controlled her bladder.

“That was very good, Denise. The hardest part is over. Now comes the fun part,” the woman smiled as she put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. The girl smiled back, partly in relief, partly because she was suddenly excited, and swished the cane several times to test it before she whacked her mother’s rear-end. I could hear the woman’s muffled cry of pain behind the bag and saw an angry red welt swell on her buttocks. Fuck! Why did that excite me so much?

“Come on pets, let’s get practice started,” Coach Wagner said as she passed us in the hall.

Cindy started to follow the coach. “Please don’t call us pets.”

Coach Wagner stopped and looked at us. “But you are pets. Why would I call you anything different?”

“Only our daughters call us pets,” Barb said.

“Yes, please don’t call us pets in front of other people,” Maggie added.

“Look pets, I’m the coach. Your mistresses call you pets and I will call you pets and anybody else associated with this competition will call you pets. Now if there is anymore complaining you can bring it up to your mistresses.” She turned on her heel and walked down the hall.

We lowered our heads, staring at the floor, and followed her with our bags. It seemed at every turn this training was designed to humiliate us. We walked into our practice room and saw that the obstacle course equipment was there, as was the bench, the punishment bench I guess you could call it.

“Get the obstacle course stuff setup pets,” the coach ordered as she put her things down. We dropped our bags next to the bench and looked at each other.

“Why do we have to set it up? Why can’t our daughters?” asked Maggie.

“Because, Coco, I don’t want to strain or burden your mistresses with menial tasks. Their job is hard enough training you lot,” Coach Wagner said dismissively. I gulped. “And if I hear you refer to your mistresses as your daughters again, I will bring it to their attention that you pets cannot follow the simple command of calling them by their proper name of mistress.” She paused and looked at us. “I am sure that your mistresses will devise an appropriate punishment for your lack of discipline in obeying something so simple.”

We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders in acceptance. This is just another little piece of indignity to be suffered during this sport, I thought.

“Good,” Coach Wagner said and pointed at the obstacle equipment. “I want the A frame over there and the chute this side of it.” As we got to work on moving the stuff, she continued her instructions. “The teeter totter and dog walk here and here and the lead off obstacle will be the cross over. Baby Girl, you and Peaches place the mats between each obstacle.”

After we completed the set up of the equipment the coach looked around at our efforts. “Very good pets.”

“Should we get ready for our mistresses?” asked Barb.

“No, only your mistresses can give the command for practice to start,” the coach replied as she put her hands on her hips. “I’m interested about your training at home and if you are having any problems, but I understand from your mistresses that you pets are learning to be compliant with their commands.” She looked at each of us and I averted my eyes as did the others.

“Well, is that true or not?”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“I can’t hear you pets,” the coach said firmly, continuing to stare at each of us.

“Yes,” we replied.

“Yes what? Yes you’re compliant?”

“Yes, we’re compliant,” we responded.

“Good. Your training will be more demanding this week and the weeks thereafter until the competition. You’ll find that your punishments will increase as your final training progresses.”

“But we don’t need to be punished coach,” Barb replied.

“Yeah, coach,” added Cindy. “We’re getting better at not getting punished outside of practice.” She looked round at us for support and we nodded our heads in agreement.

“That maybe pets,” Coach Wagner replied, “but because your mistresses are young and you are new to this sport it will take constant reinforcement on their part to remind you that you are pets, dogs really, and not their mothers, and that your attention should be on them. They need to see that you should worship the ground they walk on, and that you should be eager to please them just like a real dog. Punishment is the only way to get you there.”

“But we don’t need to be punished all the time, especially the reinforcement punishment we must endure at home and during weekend practices,” Barb complained and again we all nodded our heads in agreement.

Coach Wagner smiled. “I see. The reinforcement punishment, also known as the good girl punishment. I did remind your mistresses to use the words ‘good girl punishment.’”

“Good girl punishment?” asked Mary. “I don’t see anything good about it.”

“A good girl punishment is not as serious as punishment where you have done something wrong, Cricket.”

“Well, that’s true,” Cindy said. “It is not as hard as the real thing, but I still don’t see why it is necessary.”

“Your mistresses should only administer a good girl punishment at regular intervals during your training. The punishment is to remind you to behave, and it should reinforce her role in the relationship of her as your mistress and you as the pet,” The coach looked at us. She had our attention.

“The good girl punishment should remind you of harsher consequences should you misbehave or not obey a command. If it doesn’t then your mistresses aren’t administering it correctly.”

We all said at the same time, nodding our heads earnestly, “Oh they are administering it correctly.”

The coach smiled again. “The good girl punishment should allow the feelings of dominance to come out in your mistress and feeling of submissiveness to come out in you. Real dogs don’t question their mistresses and neither should you,” She looked at each of us and I think we all blushed, I know I did.

She continued, “A good girl punishment is not a real punishment but it might or might not leave you in tears, and it may or may not cause a great deal of pain, but that is for your mistress to decide. Just as with a real dog, her decision and judgment on the amount of punishment you receive must never be questioned by you.” She paused. “I cannot stress how important this form of punishment will be to help your mistresses deepen their relationship and bond with you, as individual pets, and as a team. Its success will be vital to winning the competition.”

We heard laughing from down the hallway. The girls, our mistresses, were coming to practice And the coach stepped off to the side as the girls came into the room.

Stacey came in first followed by Angie and the others. “Hi, pets,” Stacey smiled as the girls walked to the bench.

“Hi, mistresses,” we replied.

“Clothes off pets,” Stacey ordered. She was sixteen and the oldest of the girls and also the captain of the team.

“Hurry the fuck up, we don’t have all day!” Zoe said clapping her hands.

“Line up over here,” Megan ordered as we dropped our clothes on the floor.

We quickly lined up shoulder to shoulder. “Spread out a little bit,” Angie said.

“Okay, today you will not be working with your mistress but with somebody else,” Stacey said. “The reason for this is that it is important that your loyalty and obedience should be to the group, no matter which mistress is working you.” She turned to the other mistresses. “Pick your pet for practice.”

Zoe quickly came over to me, smiling. “Hi, Baby Girl, you’re fucking mine for today.” Then she slapped my face on the right cheek.

“Yes Mistress Zoe,” I replied looking straight ahead. I gulped, Zoe could be demanding.

She put her left hand to my ear and rubbed my ear lobe between her fingers and I shuddered a little bit. With her right hand she gently slapped the side of my face still smiling at me.

“My little fucking bitch,” she smiled and with her right hand pinched my right nipple. Behind me I heard one of the girls slapping Barb’s ass cheeks but I didn’t dare turn my head to see what was happening.

Zoe pushed the fingers of her right hand into my mouth and ran them around my gums before pulling them out and wiping them on the side of my face. The intrusion was so unexpected that I felt myself getting hot between my legs and my nipples were hardening. I sniffed cautiously and I could smell her arousal as she warmed me up.

“What are you?” Zoe asked me as she slapped my left cheek.

“Your dog,” I replied and she pinched my left nipple.

“Answer me in the third person,” she said walking behind me. “Are you my loyal dog?”

“Baby Girl is your loyal dog, mistress.” I felt an almost unbearable sense of anticipation, wondering what she was going to do to me, and I could smell the moisture leaking between my legs.

Megan stepped away from Peaches. “Pets, from now on, you will answer us in the third person. That means even if we are practicing at home, or on Saturdays or out in public. Is that understood Peaches?”

“Peaches understands Mistress Megan,” replied Cindy looking straight ahead.

Zoe looked at me. “As my loyal dog you won’t let me down?” the teen asked as she slapped my left ass cheek.

“Baby Girl won’t let you down, mistress.”

“As my loyal dog will you do what I command you to do?” Zoe slapped my right ass cheek.

“Yes, mistress, Baby Girl will do what you command.” Fuck, I was suddenly so wet and with my new sense of smell, I could scent the fragrance of young cunt all around me. Everybody in that room was excited, and the damn clamp was working on my mind, as was the teen.

Zoe moved to my right side, facing me. She reached down with her right hand and rubbed a finger softly along my slit. An echo of my former self told me I should be embarrassed and humiliated to be treated so wantonly by a teen, but the touch sent small explosions through me, and I loved it.

“Who does this belong too?” she almost whispered in my ear as she rubbed my labia.

“Baby Girl’s cunt belongs to the group, Mistress Zoe,” I gulped as she massaged me. Don’t move, don’t move, I kept thinking to myself.

“Very good, Baby Girl,” Zoe cooed and the finger lifted away.

Then she reached down with her left hand separating my ass cheeks. She rubbed my anus in a circular motion. “Who does this belong too?”

Oh God! I felt a sudden urge to thrust backwards against the finger, to feel it drive into me through the sensitive ring of muscle, but somehow I forced myself to keep still: I knew she was testing me, seeing if I could control myself. I looked up and saw Coach Wagner watching Zoe and me with intense interest. The coach’s arms were folded across her chest but I noticed a little wet spot on her shorts.

“Baby Girl’s anus belongs to the group, Mistress Zoe.” I swallowed. My mind screamed out to let me kiss the teen.

Zoe brought up her right hand which was slimy with my pre-cum and ran circles around my lips. “And who does these lovely lips belong too?” she whispered again.

“Baby Girl’s lips belong to the group, Mistress Zoe,” I replied looking straight ahead.

The teen slid her fingers deliberately into my mouth and ran them around, knowing that I would be able to taste myself. She pinched my tongue between her index finger and thumb. “Who does this tongue belong too?” she asked, letting go so I could answer.

“Baby Girl’s tongue belongs to the group, Mistress Zoe,” I replied huskily.

Zoe stepped back from me. I was melting in her presence. Oh how I wanted to please her, but then I noticed the others staring at me and I blushed.

“That’s right, pets,” Stacey said as she walked over to me. “Your body and mind, your thoughts, belong to the group. If we are to win this competition you must follow every command, every order without hesitation. You are doing this for us, your mistresses. We’re not doing this competition for you,” The sixteen year-old ran her fingers down the side of my face then gave me two quick slaps on my cheek.

“Get your uniform Baby Girl but first attach your leash,” Zoe ordered, and I quickly went to my bag of stuff. “Make sure your heels are on first before attaching your thigh straps.”

“Yes Mistress Zoe” I replied as I tore into the bag.

Zoe sat down on the bench to put her competition boots on and the other mistresses did the same. She sat there looking at me, smiling at me as around the room the other pets were doing the same thing as me, hurrying to put our uniform on.

“Hurry the fuck up, Baby Girl,” Zoe ordered after about a minute as she patted me on the head. I had my new heels on, the leash attached and I was reaching around to push my tail into my anus. I always clinched my teeth when I pushed that damn tail into my rear end but thankfully, there was still some of my slime on my anus after Zoe’s fingering and it slipped in less painfully. Finally I attached my lower legs to my thighs and pulled my hand paws onto my right hand, using my teeth to pull on the left hand paws.

I quickly bounded over to Zoe with the leash in my mouth.

“Very good Baby Girl,” she cooed. “You’re not as stupid as you look.”

I wagged my tail and panted with my tongue hanging out.

“Sit!” she ordered.

I sat back on my heels and cupped my hands under my breasts, my tongue hanging out as I panted for her.

Zoe leaned over and took my leash. “Good girl!” she smiled at me. I wagged my tail and panted for her again.

“Is Baby Girl a good bitch?” she asked as she scratched me under my chin.

“ARF!” I replied wagging my tail.

“Mistresses make sure you do a wetness check!” Coach Wagner said as she walked back and forth watching the girls and us. I had noticed before in practices that this was a moment in which she always seemed to take a particular interest. “The judges will also be doing a wetness check on competition day.”

“Heel!” Zoe said looking down at me.

I quickly got on all fours. Holding the leash she walked behind me and squatted down, and then I felt three fingers rubbing my slit up and down.

“Baby Girl is wet,” Zoe announced as she pushed three fingers into me. The feeling was exquisite and I had to force myself not to move my hips to her rhythm of finger pumping.

“On a scale of one to five with five being very wet,” Coach Wagner asked.

“Oh, she’s a five alright,” Zoe chuckled as she poked me one more time and for some strange reason I felt proud of being that wet.

“Mistresses take this piece of thin rope,” the coach said as she laid out the pieces on the bench.

“SIT!” the girls ordered.

“What’s the rope to be used for coach?” asked Megan.

“It is to help with your bitch’s posture. Attach the loop of one end around the stiletto, then loop the rope through the collar ring and then back to the other stiletto. Adjust the rope as needed, pulling your bitch’s neck slightly back.” The girls picked up pieces of the rope and returned to us. “You’re looking for a nice little depression in the lower back of your bitch and it should hold her head up straighter. We want to get your pets into the show dog mentality.”

Zoe looped the rope through my collar ring and attached it to my right stiletto. She pulled on the rope which pulled my neck back and created the little depression in my lower back, and then fastened the other end to the other stiletto.

“Very good, Mistress Zoe,” the coach praised.

“Thanks coach,” Zoe replied as she picked up my leash.

“The stilettos your pets have bought look very nice mistresses, but I want them used mainly for practices and at home. Your pet can walk around in them, but I want the heels to be used to help her posture. We will make the stilettos part of your bitches’ practice uniform.”