Life is very full. Very busy. Master and I only get so many chances to play, and as with all things it’s up to him to decide when; decide where; decide how. I trust his decisions, as the way his mind works is one of the sexiest things about him. But sometimes the suspense kills me.
One weekend I woke and found he was there. Starting my day with him is one of the perks of weekends; as we chatted and lazed around my guard dropped. I was surprised when, in a split second, I went from sprawled across the bed to on my hands and knees, his hard, strong cock pumping into my cunt. I pushed my mind to catch up; soon I pumped back, enjoying the feeling of him inside me even as his voice fell from the headphones into my mind. I adore the feeling of being fucked by my Master and revel in it whenever he gifts it to me.
But there was more happening here. After a few minutes I began to feel something… shifting? Something in my mind was sliding back, losing some purchase. Losing grip. I groaned and ground back and grunted and… growled. A low, guttural rumble from my chest. Where it came from I couldn’t say, but it sent a shockwave through my already slippery snatch. I was powerless to stop the fucking, fucking, fucking, but I began to realize that this was pushing me toward something.
Master asked me how I was doing and I tried to reply, to use my words. I think I said fine? Good? Something like that, but whatever the word I used wasn’t the important part. It was the amount of work to get a word to come out that I focused on. The further along he fucked me the more my grip on humanity became slippery. I clutched at speech and spit out some word that showed me I was still a person, but almost immediately after my words came the first whine. High and squeaky and beyond my control. And here I noticed that my heavy breathing was coming in shorter, staccato dashes. Fast, quick breaths in and out.
Pants. I said my word, my totem of humanity again even though the lame word came nowhere close to an accurate description of the way he was rocking me. I just needed to hold on to my humanity and this word was how I was sure I could do it. I slammed back against the feel of his cock in my cunt, pushing along my descent, and told him I was fine. And then I growled and groaned and panted and panted.
I felt the hard, hot leather around my neck and the pull of my leash holding up my head. The sound of his pleased laughter sent a warm gush of cream sliding down my thigh and I panted harder and harder. The growls became more primal, and when next Master asked how I was doing the words were gone. I whined instead, the closest way I had anymore to beg him for mercy. I begged for him and he enjoyed my fall away from being his slave, further down to being his pet.
He fucked me and fucked me, and finally he asked if I wanted to cum. I made my animal noises, not sure how to get what I needed, so he gave me a clear command: “Beg.” And beg I did. As my animal rutting continued non-stop I let my desperate, wanton begging whines fill the room and he let me beg for a long time. When at last he told me to cum I let my head fold down onto the bed and growled into the start of the rush. When I heard myself barking into the orgasm I wanted to stop, to quiet, but the need was so much stronger than my pride. I barked and yelped and growled and whined and came and came and came for him.
As I felt the rush I also felt the last of my humanity fall down into a dark hole. From inside this tiny place I could see my world around me, but couldn’t touch anything. I felt this new bitch me around me like a shadow, but I was a voyeur of everything that happened now. I felt myself being my Master’s bitch. I felt the emotions and sensations, but I also felt my human reactions to the humility and degredation, and my inability to do anything but ride along.
In my new bitch form I knelt on the bed, my tongue hanging gently from the corner of my mouth, with my Master’s voice in my ears. My mind, so simple now, lay satisfied and flat. Master commanded me to speak and I barked happily for him. He commanded me to beg and my eager, begging whines flowed out. He called me a good girl and I swooned. At some point I became aware that I was “wagging” my “tail”, so happy to be obeying Master.
“Speak.” Again I barked. He repeated this one a few times, and each time my obedience was instantaneous. There was no thinking – only obeying. When next he told me to beg he included that I should assume the proper begging position. I faltered for a moment, nervous about trying to balance on only my hind quarters, but with a moment’s preparation I tucked my paws below my tits, careful not to block his view of them, and begged again. And my reward, another “good girl”, was the greatest gift possible. Each time he praised me I panted excitedly for my Master; for his pleasure.
Eventually Master brought me back to reality. My legs were slick all up and down from my constant and overwhelming pleasure at being his pet. He let me go, but he let me live these moments, and let me wonder for even just a second whether he might leave me this way, barking and begging for his love and enjoyment. Wonder… would that be the worst thing? Or the best?
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