I thought I'd try a little something. Breaking the rule about writing what you know (sorry, Sheepish!), but it just seemed to happen.



Serafina Herafeld von Tarken was regal beyond words. She came from a tall family within a tall nation, and she was taller than her brothers, who were all tall men. Every inch of her was fine-honed muscle, but she had all the voluptuous curves a man could die for. Today she wore red. A full-length wine-red dress, plunging at the front to show a cleavage you just itched to bury your nose in, and swooping so low at the back that you just see the little cleft at the base of her spine, leading your eyes so easily down, round and over her high, tight, very, very biteable butt.

She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the drawing room, erect and graceful, staring moodily down across the rolling landscaped parkland. She turned and glared at the long case clock standing against the wall opposite. Twenty five minutes past.

“Pritt!” She called suddenly. “Play!”

Oh, boy, did I move fast! I had been lying on the floor behind the chaise longue, my usual place when she doesn’t want me, and to be honest I had been dozing off. Last night had been long and exhausting.

I scuttled quickly round the corner of the chaise, trying not to get my chain tangled around its legs, and scampered over to her as fast as I could. I licked her feet, whined, nuzzled the back of my head against her calves and wiggled my rear. She ignored me, staring at the clock, so I put my head and forearms flat on the ground and looked up at her from under my eyelashes in a way I hoped was cute and playful. I wagged my tail again and after a little moment risked the smallest of puppy play-with-me barks; followed quickly by an ingratiating whine.

She clicked her fingers at me, so I sprang back up onto all fours, bouncing and yapping in delight. She quieted me and patted my head.

“Good dog. Sit.” I sat. “Fetch!”

I don’t know where it had appeared from, but with her other hand she threw my favourite rubber quoit across the room. I reared up to watch it go, waiting eager and panting. I started to twitch to chase after it – but I couldn’t go until the Mistress said. Oooh, ooh, come on, it’s going to hit the –

“Go!”

I bounded away, skidding and getting tangled in my chain in my eagerness. It wrapped itself around one hand and I went down, but I didn’t stop, my eyes fixed on that rubber ring – it landed over behind the desk, bounced a bit and then rolled off towards the bookshelves. I scrabbled upwards and forgot myself in my eagerness to fetch my toy. I was shocked to hear my beautiful Mistress cry out,

“PRITT! Who said you could stand! All fours! At ONCE!”

I dropped back down immediately, a tingle of fear running down my spine – I knew I would pay for it later – but not allowing it to stop me going for the quoit. I rushed straight through the desk pedestals, shouldered the chair out of the way and caught up with the pesky rubber thing. There was just enough of a gap under the bookcase for it to fit, and it had managed to bounce its way under there. Only a couple of inches of it were sticking out. I bent my head down to try to pick it up, but I couldn’t come at it from the right angle, my nose kept getting in the way. I twisted and turned my head this way and that, but just couldn’t get it in my mouth. With each attempt, I managed to nudge it further under the bookcase. I heard my Mistress laugh. I wagged my tail for good measure and whined a bit. The sound of her footsteps told me that she had turned back to the window, so I tried cheating.

“PRITT!” She has eyes in the back of her divine head, I swear. “No hands! Never hands! You know that is completely forbidden!”

The rapid click of her pointed heels coming over the drawing room floor towards me told me that I was in extreme trouble. I cowered and whimpered and cringed, wondering if I should wet myself to show my terror. But I thought I should perhaps keep that for later. I had a bad feeling there was going to be a lot of later.

Her footsteps had stopped. I had my forearms stretched out and head down, but out of the corner of my eye I could just see the toe of one shoe, tapping up and down.

“Why do you do this? Why must you always upset me this way? I’m good to you, aren’t I? Speak.”

“Forgive this poor hound, Mistress, it is just a fool, it was just enjoying playing so for your pleasure, Mistress, I didn’t mean to stand up or use my hands, I - ” Her foot suddenly lashed forward and caught me in the ribs. Oh, not so very hard, just sharp enough to cut me off.

“Stop. You are babbling. I gave you permission to speak. Not to drivel.”

I kept my head pressed very firmly to the ground, my shoulders hunched, and gave a little shrill whimper.

“Now. Speak. And make sense.”

“This abject creature begs forgiveness, Mistress.”

“Continue. Explain to me why I should forgive you.”

“I merely wished to please, oh my most compassionate Mistress.” Cringing, I shuffled very slightly towards her, hoping for her mercy. She rewarded me with another kick. I stopped, frightened. I was unsure – she had not told me to stop talking or moving. But she had kicked me. What did she want? In the silence, I heard her toe tapping again.

“I wished only to distract you, Mistress, while you waited!” I blurted.

Kick. I yelped.

“You have distracted me, cur. Indeed you have. But the distraction is supposed to be pleasurable for me! Don’t you believe that is your purpose, dog, to give me pleasure?” Kick.

“Yes, always, Mistress, it is the only reason for my existence!” Kick.

Each kick jabbing the sharp toe of her shoe between two ribs. Each kick in exactly the same place: a masterpiece of accuracy. I flattened my face into the floor until I could feel the grain of the wood making patterns on my cheek. I crushed myself against the hard wood. I trembled, not in fear, but in shame to have angered my Mistress so.

“Well you have displeased me instead! I have better things to do than always to be watching out for your behaviour.” She kicked me again, but this time she aimed just beneath my ribs. I couldn’t help but gasp.

“Be quiet. No more speaking. No more sound at all. Do not move. You are a disgrace. I want to forget your presence. I don’t even know if I want you in the same room as me.” Oh, her voice was cold, it ran over me cold like a winter mountain stream, I shivered the whole length of my body and felt myself desolate. I wanted to plead, to beg her not to reject me, to offer my whole devotion and adoration, but I could not. I had to keep the longing and the love inside me, could not even let it show through my worshiping eyes.

Kick. Gasp.

She moved, slow footsteps walking round behind me. My buttocks clenched and the skin on my balls involuntarily started crawling. I began to shake in earnest. Sometimes when I had misbehaved, my Mistress would hurt me very badly. True, I didn’t feel that my misbehaviour today deserved extreme punishment. But she was in a very touchy mood. Rogaritz Marken, her lover, was late. He had been due at 10.00. Mistress was extremely unhappy.

“Spread.”

I moaned, spreading my thighs wide to expose myself fully to her ministrations. She leant down and grabbed at the base of my tail, which was attached to a large butt plug. She pulled it out fast, purposefully angling it so that it hurt. I threw my head back involuntarily and air rushed hard through my nose as I concentrated on not making a sound. Normally, at least I could speak. At least I could beg. I could plead, I could whimper. I wished I had wetted myself earlier – if I did that now, she would be furious. I knew that I no longer had that choice; anything would be done now only on and at her bidding.

She stepped back; I heard the plug land on the floor as she discarded it. I waited, tense, every sense strained, not knowing where she was or what she was about to do. I almost forgot to breathe…

I jumped suddenly as I felt the cool toe of my Mistress’ foot gently touch one of my shivering thighs. She traced slowly up the thigh, across my buttocks, down the other thigh. She has such perfect balance; I could sense she never wavered. I could picture her in my mind’s eye, with perfect poise and a cool, considering expression on her perfect face. She slipped her pointed toe into the top of the cleft between my cheeks, and ran it gently downwards, jabbing it briefly and sharply into my now available anus; then running it downwards again until the point of her shoe was pressing slightly against my tender, tender balls. She paused like that for a moment, giving me the opportunity to be fully thankful for her mercy, for not ramming her toe straight hard into them. She gave a little thoughtful jerk, just enough to hurt, and took her foot away. I wanted to swallow, but my throat was too dry.

Her footsteps moved across the floor again, heading for the opposite wall. I heard a door open, and my heart started hammering furiously. She had gone into her den, where she kept her equipment. I had never been permitted inside her den, so I didn’t know exactly what she had in there. Other than my collar and chain, which were never removed, and my tail, which was generally removed only to permit me to empty my bowels, Mistress very rarely used any object on me. She had me under almost perfect control through just her voice, her hands and her feet.

It hadn’t always been so. At first, so many years ago now it seemed like a dream, I had fought against my Mistress. This seems impossible to me now, but it was true. But she has given me long, caring, patient attention. Every day she would train me, teach me and show me just a little more of the great truth, which is that to adore and obey her, to live only for her pleasure and demand, was ecstasy; a bliss granted to so few.

But the training was very hard. I was stubborn and difficult, and my poor Mistress almost wore herself out for my sake. And even now, now that I am her grateful and adoring creature, still I forget, misbehave, cause her pain.

And so there I was, my face to the floor, waiting in fear and misery to learn her decision on how to punish me. I heard the door slam closed and her hard heels rang across the broad wood floor. I was shivering uncontrollably. Oh, my Mistress, oh, my Love, do not hurt me just because of him!

She was only a few feet away when suddenly there was a wild clamouring from the great bell hanging above the front entrance. Someone was pulling at the rope with fierce gusto! It must be Marken; a big, bluff man, strong enough to cause the house to reverberate, so loud was the ringing; strong enough to keep even my feisty Mistress in check.

Her footsteps stopped. I sensed her hesitate; from the hallway came the slam of the front door shutting and muffled laughter as Marken greeted the butler with a joke. The drawing-room entrance was flung roughly open and I heard his footsteps fast and heavy as he charged towards her with intent.

“Serafina! My darling!” his voice roared around the room. He came in like a gale, carrying all objections before him, and I heard her give a muffled gasp as he wrapped her in his embrace. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting, my beauty – oh, but what do you have there? I see you are all ready for me! Here, I’ll take it; I know just what to do with that! My sweet! Come, quickly, I can’t wait to have you and savour all your delights!”

She said not a word, but I could hear her breathing quicken. As they rushed across the room, there was a swish and a sharp slap, as of something alighting upon tight buttocks. It sounded like a crop, the instrument I guessed she had chosen to mete out her punishment on me, and that was now to be used on her, it seemed. I could just hear the air hiss between her pretty lips. The door to the den opened. The door to the den closed.

Saved by the bell.