This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents
are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are 18 or
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e-book may be republished or used without the written consent of the
author or publisher.
Publishing © 2017
WALKING HER PET
Lucy sits in her white linen
dress trying not to squirm. She's almost ready to go out. Her
buff-coloured high-heeled boots are being laced up her slender calves
by her Mistress' maid, Nanette. Lucy has lifted her skirt for
Mistress' pleasure, and she trembles to imagine the sight she must
present: the split-crotch leather thong between her leg holding a
trainer dildo into her narrow sex, the wetness leaking from around it
to bead her thighs, and most embarrassing of all the silver ring
piercing the hood of Lucy's clitoris, with a fine looped silver chain
pulled back between her legs and ass cheeks so that Mistress can take
hold. Lucy has no doubt that Nanette is intimately familiar with this
instrument of exquisite torture. The beaded silver oval ring is
Mistress Caroline's trademark, common to all who serve in her
household. But it's new to Lucy. She's just healed from the piercing.
Her training has to start as soon as possible, and today is the day
Lucy has been cleared for action.
Physically, she's ready.
Mentally...that's another question.
Lucy realizes that Nanette has finished her
task and is kneeling to the side in respect, as their imposing
Mistress has come up behind Lucy's chair. She jumps to her feet,
smoothing her short, full skirt down to her knees. That's about all
the coverage she'll get –less, in the back, when the chain is
pulled. But from the front, she looks decent, even innocent, in her
white dress and blonde curls, with a little silver choker-style
necklace and oval ring pendant around her throat. Lucy catches sight
of herself in the mirror by the door, her Mistress tall and proud
behind her, and gives a bright, angelic smile.
"Oh!" Lucy gasps. The chain has gone taut
between her legs, pulling the ring and putting pressure directly on
her clit. A vivid lancing pain shoots through her sensitive tissues.
At the same time, though, she feels her cunt tighten around the
dildo, sending waves of pleasure through her thighs. She's been
denied release for so long. Her angelic expression transforms into
one of sexual urgency: chin tilted up, mouth open as if begging to be
filled, eyes half-closed in surrender. She does squirm now. It hurts
to move, and yet it feels so good she can't help it, she just has
"Ah ah," Mistress Caroline scolds, letting the
chain go slack. "I can't take you anywhere with that 'come fuck
me' look on your face. We're going for a walk in the park, and I want
you decent in public, no matter what you are underneath. Got
"Yes, Miss." Lucy closes her mouth and
"Good. Just one more thing, then."
taller woman reaches around and roughly cups Lucy's firm, high
breasts in both hands. Lucy yelps. Sewn inside the bodice of her
dress is a fine layer steel wool, stripped, cut, and abraded to
prickling sharpness. The mesh chafes Lucy's nipples to standing,
which only makes them press harder into the harsh fabric, swelling
until they are just visible through the lacy breast of the dress.
Mistress nods in satisfaction at her little pet-girl, and
Lucy's heart bucks in simultaneous adoration and anxiety. She knows
her hard, flushed nipples show through the white dress. Worse, the
chain tugs up her skirt when taut, revealing and stimulating her most
private parts at the same time. Lucy has never done anything so
humiliating in public. Part of her wants to beg–oh kind, generous
Mistress!–to call it all off.
But at the same time, Lucy
senses a challenge. Despite her fear, this young woman in white with
her soft ringlets and long lashes has an iron core of determination.
Something inside her spurs her to perform even the most degrading
tasks with utter competence. Through her grace and skill, she wants
to transform her degradation into a beautiful expression of devoted
servitude, of willing obedience. And so Lucy accepts the first
challenge of her training, and steps out with her head held high to
go for a little walk.
Walking, as it turns out, is harder than
she thought. At least, walking naturally. The couple has stepped
directly out from Mistress' historic brownstone townhouse, through
the wrought iron gate of her willow-hung yard, and into New York's
downtown rush. Sure, it's a side street in a genteel neighborhood,
and the velvet evening has slowed business traffic to a trickle. But
it's still a big, busy city, and they have to walk four or five
blocks just to get to the park. For this first part of the trek, Lucy
has to pass perfectly. She can't show any sign of her condition. And
that means walking normally, casually, in heels –and everything
else she is wearing underneath.
Her first steps make her
breath come shallow and fast. The split-crotch panties leave her so
exposed that her thighs chafe her delicate labia every time she puts
a foot forward. The ring and chain pull cool and wet between her
inner lips, tugging at her clit. The dildo feels hugely
uncomfortable, though Lucy knows it's barely half the size she's
being trained to take eventually. Altogether, the only thing she can
think about with every step is the intense sensation between her
legs. Her sex is pulsing so hard that a kind of elated terror sweeps
over her as she thinks,
'Oh God, I'm going to cum already.
We're barely ten steps from the door and I think I'm going to gush
right here in the street. No, no, please, not yet!'
falter as she tries desperately to rein in her body, the thrust and
twist of her unruly hips. She knows she's biting her lip, blushing
hard, betraying herself, and to add to her humiliation someone is
coming down the street towards them. No, oh no!
It's Mistress Caroline's deep, calm voice. The
older woman stops and admires a tiny patch of garden, pointing things
out to Lucy so that their backs are turned to the passer-by. She
"Breathe with me now. Nice and slow. In. And
out. In. Out."
Lucy is already there. The moment she
heard the word "relax" her breath slowed automatically, her
panicked spike of arousal fading like a dream. She's been trained
that way; she had to be in order to take the pain her Mistress loves
to inflict. Her desire is still terribly inflamed, but the burn is
slower, deeper, more manageable. She straightens her posture, sets
her face, and gives her Mistress a meaningful glance, mixing
gratitude, wry relief, and new confidence. Her efforts are rewarded
with an archly amused smile from the one she adores.
girl. Now let's go. We're not even to the park yet."
set out again, side by side now. Lucy can't help but sneak glances at
Mistress Caroline, who looks so sophisticated in her light summer
suit with glossy black highlights of patent belt and boots, her dark
hair swept up high.
Looking at her, Lucy remembers the first
time she saw the woman who now owns her. Lucy was a struggling
college student working at the makeup counter of a department store.
She was studying literature in the evenings and reading the most
explicit stories of bondage and humiliation she could find online so
late into the night that all the makeup in the world couldn't cover
the dark circles under her eyes. Not to mention the bruises she
inflicted on herself, trying to cuff her own wrists to the headboard
of her bed.
It was those cuffs that gave her away. She wore a
heavy long-sleeved blouse to hide her strange bruises, but it was the
middle of summer and she stood out like a sore thumb (or wrist!) in
such a wintery blouse. She was already embarrassed when a tall,
stylish customer in a short-sleeved suit called her over just because
she knew she looked so weird by comparison. The woman asked for a
blusher. Lucy handed it over. And, oh God, she still shivers to
remember the appraising look her elegant, slim-suited customer gave
her wrists as she passed the compact over the mirrored counter. Her
right sleeve pulled back, not too much, but enough to give away her
secret. Seeing those tell-tale marks, the stylish woman caught Lucy's
hand and stared straight into her eyes, as if stripping her soul bare
right there in the department store.
Lucy can't even recall
now what they said or how they agreed to meet after that. In fact,
she's pretty sure she was totally incoherent. But she will never
forget how Caroline (then, just Caroline) pierced her with that
irresistible dark-eyed stare and pulled her deepest desire to the
surface, like a fish on a silver hook. Lucy knew the woman's true
power in that electric moment of unspoken mutual revelation. And she
knew her own submission to it.
Mistress Caroline later
scolded Lucy for projecting her submissiveness so readily, telling
her that she was an open book and people would tear out her pages if
she wasn't careful. Lucy parried that maybe she liked to be torn. So
Mistress had taken her at her word, physically and at length. The
leather flogger, wasn't it, that time? And then---
doesn't realize her quick glances have become a heated stare until
her Mistress gives the chain a jerk and murmurs,
down. You beg when I tell you, not before."
Lucy gasps at the sharp pressure on her clit and looks down, feeling
chastised. "I'm sorry, Miss. I was just remembering...you're so
elegant, I couldn't help it."
Mistress Caroline snorts at
the attempted flattery.
"Well, you'll have to get used to
it. You're the one in my sights, pet, and you always have been. Get
back out in front, at the end of your leash where I can see
Lucy obediently picks up her pace, striding forward
until she feels the chain just touching the hem of her skirt in the
back. She shudders at the hint of pressure and the stimulation of
walking faster. She is a pace or two in front of her Mistress, just
enough to present a nice view of her ass and the movements of her
hips, which will betray her squirming arousal if she start to succumb
again. Lucy makes an extra effort to smooth out her stride and
concentrate on getting down the sidewalk in front of her. Focus.
Breathe. Relax. Yes.
"Very good." Mistress says.
"And here we are."
They've reached one of the many
gates to the park. The trees are already overhanging the sidewalk,
shading the couple. Mistress Caroline steps in close to Lucy, who
quivers at the contact in sudden anticipation. But Mistress just puts
a hand on the iron push-gate to let them both in. She gives
instructions in a low, firm voice.
"Listen. I want you to
stop thinking about your pussy for once and look around. Engage all
your senses. What's it like to be here, now, knowing what I'm doing
to you? Don't talk, just feel it."
She gives Lucy a
guiding push forward and they are off down a little side path. Like a
magic trick, Lucy's field of vision widens and clarifies even as the
branches close in around her. She was so lost in thought earlier that
she didn't even notice the scenery. She'd been walking blind. But
now, the world seems to flood into her senses with almost surreal
intensity. All at once she becomes aware of the musky scent of
crushed leaves and damp earth, the cottony-thick air of a humid
summer's evening, the way tops of the trees still catch the last of
the mellow sunset above them while the shadows get bluer below.
Everything seems imbued with the new tang of her heightened
She can feel much more of her body than just her
throbbing sex now, too. She pays attention to where she places each
high-heeled foot on the uneven path and the way her movements make
her skirt sway. She notices the brush of the skirt's hem against her
thighs, stiff and soft at once. Trailing her attention up her body,
she feels the tightness of the bodice around her ribcage and under
her breasts. And oh, her breasts! The chafe of the steel wool,
forgotten in her earlier frenzy, comes back to her even stronger than
before. It pricks her nipples mercilessly, but at the same time it
feels so delicious that she wiggles her shoulders in sensual
appreciation. She tilts her head back, looking up and all
"What does the world look like to you, Lucy?"
Mistress Caroline asks.
"It's...so beautiful. I can't
even say. It's so intense."
"Mmm. It looks beautiful
from here too."
It takes Lucy a moment to realize that
Mistress Caroline is talking about her, about the sight of her
weaving through the woods at dusk. But before she can look back to
smile her thanks, she feels a tug to the left deep between her legs.
Like a horse responding to the rein, she turns. She heads down the
left-hand side of the forking path before she fully understands what
has happened. Then it comes to her: Mistress Caroline has pulled the
left side of the looped chain to steer her by her sex.
gasps in arousal. Then, unable to help herself, she breaks into a
laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. Steered through the park by a
ring in her clit! She giggles again.
"Well, we can't have
you completely forgetting yourself!" Mistress Caroline says with
a laugh of her own. "Follow my lead, pet."
that she begins to steer Lucy along an intricate and winding path,
making her will known through the pull of the ring, sometimes sharp
and sometimes light. The soft, subtle tugs are actually harder for
Lucy to bear. They come close to a pleasuring caress, and yet she has
to pay attention to feel the direction. The stimulation is so
insistent that she feels herself swelling open, approaching orgasm.
She whimpers to let Mistress know how close she is, in case the plan
is to stop somewhere in the woods and play. But to her shock, the
more Lucy whimpers, the closer Mistress begins to steer her to main
paths where people are walking.
"Please, oh please,"
she whispers, begging for mercy. But with classic cruelty, Mistress
Caroline deliberately twists her words back on her.
you say? Please take you this way, towards the lamps? Why yes, I
think I will..."
"Noooo," Lucy moans under her
"'Ooo'? Are you excited? Well, restrain yourself
now. We're coming to a public area. I want public manners from
By now the sun is down, the sky a deep indigo blue.
The clustered globe lamps lining the path light up with an electric
flicker. A few couples are strolling along, sailing from one pool of
orange light to the next. Gravel crunches underfoot as Lucy and
Mistress Caroline join the flow. Lucy feels the chain drop away from
her hem. Mistress must have lowered the fine filament almost to the
ground so that it won't draw too much attention. She lets herself
fall back in step at her Mistress' side so that the chain is hidden
between them. The taller woman nods her approval and they slow to a
gentle, meandering pace together.
Still, the humiliating
situation itself is enough to keep Lucy inflamed. Very inflamed. She
can feel her juices trickling down her thighs, cooling in the evening
breeze. Now that they're on a more open path the wind is enough to
stir Lucy's skirt, pressing it back against her body. With sudden
self-consciousness, she finds herself plucking at the fine linen as
she walks, trying to keep it from getting between her legs.
something the matter with your skirt?" Mistress asks in a casual
"No, it's just a bit windy, and I don't
"Don't want what? It's not going to
blow up from a little breeze like that."
not that. It's just, it's white, and I don't want to--" Lucy can
feel her cheeks burning, having to admit something like this. She
lowers her voice. "I don't want to get it wet. You know what I
"Ahhh," Mistress smiles. "That
bad, is it?"
Lucy nods, unable to speak.
I'd better have a look."
Lucy's body goes rigid in
terror. She stops in her tracks.
squeals, much louder than she'd intended. A couple of people glance
around, giving Lucy dubious looks.
Not missing a beat,
Caroline gives Lucy's shoulder a playful swat and laughs as if she's
just cracked a hilarious joke.
"Whaddya think, here? Not
a chance! Who told you that?" she replies boisterously, in what
Lucy thinks of as her 'street voice.' "I'da told you so if you
asked me. And you should always ask me," she continues in the
bantering tone of familiar friends. Nothing she says makes any sense
out of context, so attention slides away from them. But for Lucy,
every word has a hidden meaning.
She's nearly blown their
cover, and she is going to pay for it.
"Hey, let's check
out this path," says Mistress Caroline. She pulls Lucy towards a
dark mouth in the treeline with a violence that could be interpreted
"Yeah, sure!" Lucy chirps with just
as much gusto. But her stomach has gone liquid. What is she in for
Plunging into the woods, the couple is swallowed in
shadows and blur. The voices behind them fade away in the dense
underbrush. Mistress roughly pushes Lucy through a hedge of brambles
and into a little grove just big enough for the two of them. Lucy
stumbles forward, the chain snapping up between her legs---
Mistress's voice rings out, quiet yet incisive.
Obedience to that particular command has been engrained in her muscle
memory to the extent that it's practically unconscious. She is poised
at the very end of her chain with the ring digging painfully hard
into her soft flesh, and she can't move an inch until she's released.
"Lucy, Lucy, you dirty little bitch. You just can't
restrain yourself, can you?" Mistress says ominously from behind
"Please Miss, 'm sorry Miss," Lucy manages
through frozen lips.
"I didn't ask for apologies. I asked
you a simple yes or no question. Can you restrain yourself, or can't
you? Answer clearly and politely."
"Yes I can,
"What will you do to prove
"Anything, Mistress. Anything you say."
right then. Lift your skirt."
Lucy takes hold of the hem of her skirt in the
back and lifts it so that her Mistress, standing behind her, can see
her bottom bared, pale and round in the fading light. Instinctively
she bends over and pushes her ass out, resting her hands on her knees
and holding her skirt up with her elbows pinned against her body. The
leather thong cuts her between the cheeks and emphasizes the curve of
her hips. The silver chain winks from between her legs. Irrationally,
Lucy imagines that the forest is full of hidden peeping-toms and
curiosity-seekers, all watching her debase herself. The thought makes
her feel incredibly exposed...and undeniably aroused.
chain vibrates in a series of tiny, apparently random motions. Lucy
guesses that Mistress Caroline is tying it to something behind her,
like a branch. Then comes the sound of boots crushing leaves and
twigs as her Mistress walks, slowly and deliberately, towards
pounds as she waits for the next footfall. The other woman is so near
that Lucy's skin twitches, her nerves thrumming with the sensation of
someone invading her personal space in a very vulnerable area. The
experienced Mistress stops just short of touching her, letting Lucy
feel her presence, her power, her complete control of the situation.
The pause lengthens until Lucy is almost ready to break.
in a gust of dry leaves, Mistress Caroline steps forward and gives
Lucy's bare ass a single resounding smack with the whole flat of her
hand. Lucy chokes back a scream. She barely feels the blow, but the
sound of it is excruciatingly loud to her. She's positive that every
single person in the park --probably everyone in all of New York
City-- has heard her humiliating punishment. Her hips buck in
protest. Mistress gives her another hard slap. This time it stings.
Lucy wants to fight, to provoke, to win this contest of wills--
all of a sudden, she catches herself. Restraint. This is a lesson in
restraint. If Mistress wants to discipline her here, that is
Mistress' right. Realizing this, the calm, sensual acceptance of
submission floods through Lucy's veins like honeyed milk. Yes, this
is Mistress' will. She knows best. To endure it, Lucy just has to
give in and enjoy the ride. A sigh escapes her parted lips. Her whole
body flushes with warmth. She hitches her skirt up higher and spreads
her legs a little more, presenting herself.