A barking sound echoes through the room – it’s my dog, locked in a cage. I approach him, holding the leash, and his whole body trembles with excitement, knowing it’s time for a walk. I open the cage and he comes to me, nipples adorned with toothy clamps – a symbol of belonging and punishment. I attach the leash, ensuring every tug brings pain to this beast.
As we walk, he savors my scent, happy I came for him, but the pain in his nipples lingers. I sit and command him to clean my boots with his tongue, a loyal dog serving his Mistress. Now, I desire him to become my pony, to carry me on a walk. I prepare him by placing two bridles, connected to the clamps, and mount him. Every so often, I urge him to stand on two legs, holding me by the heels. I push him to his limits, and when he collapses, I allow my boots to touch his body, tug at his nipples one last time, and leave him there.