Dogslave
by
grovelslave
[N.B. It takes a while to get to the scat elements but then they dominate.]
I am a dog slave, sold to a young skinhead Master who is heavily into humiliating guys by collaring and chaining them, and training them as dogs.
That, in essence, is my story. There's more to it than that, of course, but that sums it up. It's the detail that makes it interesting so I'll tell you how this happened to an educated, middle-class guy who formerly lived out a life of submission and obedience only in his imagination. I used to be a pushy bottom guy who through subtle and sometimes not so subtle hints was used to controlling the sm sex scenes he chose to explore.
So... I was kidnapped as I was walking home from a leather club late one night. I didn’t think of it as a kidnapping – I felt sure it was some sort of game staged for charity or something like that for I recognised one of the guys who seized me as having been in the club. In fact I had cruised him rather heavily, drawn by the black leather dog collar and leash that dangled from the left side of his belt.
Nothing had come of that to my disappointment. Until now, this moment, when he and another were pinioning me and hooding me. Bound and gagged, I was thrown into the back of a van, driven God knows where or how many miles, then unloaded like a sack of potatoes and transferred to a cell where I was kept chained until it was time for the slave auction that would change my life. My initial fear gave way to a heightened sexuality as I persuaded myself that it was some sort of trick or joke which might actually lead to an intense sex scene. Wasn't this after all one of my fantasies? It was as if the man with the dogleash had read my mind while I had been in the bar, casually rejecting one leather guy after another, searching for the one who would do exactly what I wanted him to. How did these guys who had seized me know that I had long fantasised about just such an event? How did they know that chains rather than rope turned me on? That the idea of being caged would get me hard as a rock?
I had a few hours to think about these things, a few hours which began to drag. When was the sex bit going to start? Chained by the neck to the wall of a dungeon, I was hot and horny, ready for action. I still can't remember at what point I abandoned the idea that this was all some magical realisation of my fantasies. Perhaps, instead, it was a realisation of my inner needs.
Still gagged and in chains, I was led up from the dungeon and put in a cage with about twenty other guys to await the 'sale'. There were all sorts of Masters who looked at us through the bars of the cage. If someone was interested in one of us he would signal to one of the warders who would kick us over to the bars of the cage where we were subject to inspection by our prospective owners.
In some cases it was clear what type of Masters some of these men were by the way they were dressed - some in full rubber, some in police uniforms or army uniforms, the majority in leather. My Master, a tough, hard looking and muscular skinhead with a number 1 crop, was in full leather but in fact he had other plans for me than simply being a slave to a leather Master.
When he got me home after purchasing me, my training began immediately. I had been carried to my new home in a sack and when he untied it and I crawled out, I made the mistake of standing upright in his presence. Immediately he laid into me with a dog leash, whipping me hard and shouting, "Get down on all fours, dog." I fell to the ground, moaning, while he finished whipping me. At one point I groaned "Please Sir" but this made him whip me harder as he said, "You will not speak. From now on you are a dog slave and will be treated solely as a dog. You can whimper and bark but that is all; if you attempt to speak you will be whipped." When he had finished, he stuck out the hand that had punished me and said, "Lick it, dog." Tentatively, I did what I was told.
He locked a thick studded dog collar around my neck. Then he pissed into a dog bowl, set it down on the ground and ordered me to drink it. I crawled to the bowl and lapped up my Master's piss as if it were the freshest water. While I did so, he patted my head saying, "Good dog, that's a good dog. Do what your Master tells you and you won't be whipped." It was difficult but I managed finally to lap up all his piss. Then he said, "You are a dog slave and from now on you will behave as a dog; if you don't, I'll whip you so hard you won't be able to lie down." He buckled a muzzle on my head with a bit in my mouth and padlocked it too, attached a chain to my collar and booted me into a cage, locking the other end of the chain to the bars of the cage. Then he left me for the night.
There was a dog basket in the corner of the cage, with an old blanket in it and I crawled into the basket and tried to sleep but I kept thinking of the strange turn my life had taken and was suddenly apprehensive about the future. This wasn't the kind of scene I had envisaged but it was a Friday and the weekend stretched ahead. If this was the guy's scene then he was hot enough looking for me to go along with it. I resolved to try to behave like a dog as much as possible as it was clearly in my best interests to do so. Finally I went to sleep.
In the morning my Master came to me again. I was awake before he arrived and had time to gather my thoughts and turn my attention to the ways I would show him that I was attempting to shed all vestiges of human behaviour and act like a dog. So when he entered the room where my cage was, I crawled out of my basket towards the gate of the cage, whimpering with pleasure, and desperate to lick my Master's hands as he unlocked the cage. He was dressed in full black leather again and was carrying a small canvas bag. I strained at the end of my chain to get to his hands or his heavy black leather boots and lick them but could not reach the bars of the cage. When I was released, and he had removed my muzzle, I crawled to his boots and licked them eagerly through the bit between my teeth.
While I was doing this, he picked up my dog bowl and pissed in it again, then set it down on the floor.
Immediately I turned to it and started to lap but he kicked me roughly aside with his boot and said sternly, "Bad dog, wait until you are told to drink it." He removed the bit between my teeth and put the bowl about ten feet away from me. Then, turning to me, he said, "Sit!" Instantly I sat like a dog, quivering with excitement. He held up a finger in warning and said, "Stay. Thataboy. Stay." I whimpered expectantly and finally he said, "Come on boy, come here." I crawled quickly towards him, woofing with pleasure and sat at his feet, looking up at him and panting, then at the bowl and then back to him again. Finally, he said to me, "OK boy, drink it." I greedily lapped up his piss. When I had finished, and had gone back to licking his boots, he opened the canvas bag and produced a tin of dog food and a can opener. After opening the can, he spooned the coarse food out into the bowl and we went through the same ritual before I was allowed to eat.
I attacked the dog food voraciously, partly because I was hungry and partly because I knew that that was the way dogs eat. My initial revulsion soon disappeared as I realised that the disgust was all in the mind. The food itself was tasty and meaty. Obviously I had pleased him because he patted my head and said, "Good dog." When I had finished eating, he produced a butt plug to which was attached a long hairy tail and he shoved this up my ass, strapping it in place and locking it. He then instructed me in moving my ass so that it made the tail wag. It stayed in place until it was time for me to shit. Then he would remove it, attach a dog lead to my collar, and lead me out to the garden. There I was forced to crawl around sniffing until i found a suitable spot where I would raise a leg and piss and then curl my back and shit like a dog.
He also padlocked leather mitts to my hands and feet so that they more resembled paws - certainly they prevented me from behaving like a human being. I was surprised when he shaved my entire body of hair as I imagined that he would have wanted a hairy dog but it did have the effect of further humiliating and degrading me, especially when he took the electric shears to my head and gave me a closer cut than any marine has had. I was pretty furious about this - a shaved body I could easily hide when my 'weekend' was over but not a shaved head which would definitely mark me out as a slave. Yet again, the first word of protest out of my mouth and he laid into me again.
At times he would simply sit in an armchair and read a newspaper while I lay at his feet and licked his boots. At times he would drop a hand and gently pat me or tickle me behind the ears. But I was whipped quite often for not obeying quickly enough.
I waited for sex to take place but it never happened. Finally, I tried to reason with him but he laid into me so hard with a belt that I soon shut up. Then he did explain to me just what my position was and after another furious outburst of protest and another belting I learned to keep quiet. I'll not bore you with the stages by which I accepted my position - I had no choice so I did.
After a few days, he told me that my name was now Rex, a classic dog's name but one that would serve to remind me that I was now living the life of a dog slave. I quickly learnt that life would not be too bad if I obeyed him instantly in all things for any hint of disobedience would be punished with a severe whipping with my dog leash or a leather belt. Each night I would be chained in my cage and so little by little a routine was established which effectively led to my abandonment of human ways and to a seemingly contented state living as a dog.
* * * * *
After a few weeks of dog training i thought my life was now settled into a routine and one that could have been a lot worse. True i was totally deprived of liberty - i still had a collar locked round my neck, i still slept in a cage on an old rug and was chained to the wall, i never went outside except at night on my leash to piss and shit; but set against that i was warm and fed and was only occasionally whipped for slowness in responding. As i had become accustomed to moving on all fours, new muscles had developed, my speed had increased and increasingly my behaviour was more that of a dog than a human. Severe whippings in the early days had quickly taught me that total obedience to my Master's wishes was definitely the best policy and i had soon ceased to be embarrassed by the life of barking and whining, crawling and licking that had been forced on me. my Master still shaved my entire body every day but this helped to remind me of my lowly status in the scheme of things.
my first inkling that things were about to change came on the morning when, after the ritual of licking his boots and drinking his piss from my dog bowl, he did not proceed to the shaving ritual. Nor did he take me to the small yard outside and hose me down which is the nearest I ever came to having a bath or shower; after that he would generally play a game of 'fetch' with me with a rubber ball and would finish by throwing me a couple of dog biscuits. Not today. Why? i sat on my haunches cocking my head quizzically at him, wondering at the change of routine. Suddenly he grabbed me by my collar and dragged me roughly to the wall where he chained me on a very small chain so that I could barely move around. Then without warning he pulled the leather belt out of his trousers and laid into me, laying the blows more forcefully than he had ever done before. my first instinct was to cry out in human speech and ask him what i had done to offend him, for never before had he whipped me for no reason, but i curbed this and whimpered and whined as i twisted and turned on my short length of chain.
Finally dropping the belt, he unchained me and dragged me by the collar out of the room and down the corridor to his toilet. Slamming the door behind him he booted me over to the toilet bowl and forced my head down. i recoiled a little as the bowl was full of cold stale piss, unflushed from the last time he had used it but i soon felt his heavy engineer boot on my neck forcing my head back down.
"Lap it up, dog," he said, in a voice harsher and meaner than he usually used. i stuck my head down into the dark yellow-brown liquid and started to lap it as fast as i could. He must not have flushed the bowl for some time as the piss was stale and acrid, not at all like the warm fresh piss i was used to drinking from my dog bowl. While i was doing this i heard the zipper of his leather trousers being pulled down and then a stream of hot piss hit my head and flowed over my face into the mixture of cold piss and water. "Drink it all, you fucking animal," he said. i lapped and lapped, wondering when i would be told to stop. After many minutes he evidently decided that i had done enough because he flushed the bowl and yanked my head out of the deluge of water, me coughing and spluttering.
"OK, dog, we haven't finished in here yet. I'm not planning on using this toilet again - ever. So I'm gonna make sure it's nice and clean before I shut it up. Now get that fucking tongue of yours into that bowl again and lick it, all of it." I didn't hesitate. His tone showed he really meant business. "That's it, fucker. Now get that tongue up round the rim, that's right, clean it all out."
As my tongue went up beneath the rim and encountered years of splashbacks from piss and shit my gorge rose and i nearly gagged but i had been well enough trained not even to hint at unwillingness and kept at my task. i sensed him standing over me and from time to time he would plant a boot firmly on my back just to remind me that he was there and watching how well i was doing it. At last it was done.
i think he was pleased. At least he patted me on the head as he attached my leash and turned to go. Just before we left he picked up a roll of toilet tissue and dropped it in the waste paper basket.
"Well I guess I won't be needing that again," he said as we left the room. i crawled docilely beside him, to heel as i had been taught, matching his pace as we went back to the room where my cage was kept. Once there he commanded me to sit and stay. i obeyed as he unlocked a cupboard and hauled out a heavy wooden contraption and placed it in the centre of the room. It was a form of chair but with a long angled plank of wood running underneath from the seat to the floor. At the side was a winch and, as he started to crank on this, the plank went flat to the floor.
He called me to him and i bounded over, though inwardly apprehensive about what was about to happen. He ordered me to slide along on my back on the plank until my head was level with the underside of the seat. There it encountered a strange leather cradle which held the back of the head in a fixed position and on either side long leather strips which he threaded through the seat. He quickly fixed my ankles in restraints to the bottom of the plank and made me put my arms behind my head.
Then he winched the board back up to its original angle. As my head neared the bottom of the seat my eyes came into contact with a hole with a round hard piece of moulded rubber sticking down from it.
"Get that dog mouth round that rubber, fucker," he said and i did so as he finished cranking. Then seizing my arms he raised them high along the back of the chair and buckled restraints into place. i was held totally immobile, unable to move at all, with my head pulled close and tight to the seat as he tied the leather strips firmly in place. my mouth was held open to its fullest extent and already my jaw ached. Again i heard the zipper of his trousers and i wanted to shout out, "You don't have to do all this, Sir! i'll drink your piss from your cock if that's what you want, Sir!" But it wasn't what he wanted. He sat down and planted his heavy boots on my thighs and only then did i realise what was about to happen. He was taking a shit and i was his toilet!
"You fucking mutts are always sniffing each other's shit," he said, "and licking each other's assholes so I'm gonna train you up to be a real dog toilet. So get ready to take it, fuckface for here it comes."
i squirmed and wriggled but i couldn't move. i couldn't speak though i think i would have broken his rules at this point, for the first time in about a month, if i hadn't been so effectively secured and plugged. The first turd came slowly down the chute and into my mouth. i suddenly felt that i was no longer even a dog but simply part of a machine, a toilet bowl, and that i could go no lower in degradation. i started to gag but i had a terrible moment of panic when i thought that i would choke on my own vomit before he could release me, if he decided to release me for after all i was simply a piece of property, less than a real dog, not even registered. And as the turd entered my mouth i knew that i had to concentrate on breathing through my nose. It slid inexorably over my tongue and down my throat but my relief at this was short lived as it was quickly followed by another and finally a third.
That was my first time to be used as my Master's total toilet. When he released me he pissed down my throat to wash it out before i turned my attention to his shitty arse, sticking my tongue deep inside and cleaning him out thoroughly. This became my new morning ritual though of course he used me as a urinal at any time of the day and occasionally would come to me during the night to piss down my throat or simply all over me if he couldn't be bothered to aim for my mouth. At first i hated it. i hated the claustrophobic restraint more than anything and the difficulty in breathing. As for the shit - well, after a while my mind went into a wild ecstasy of humiliation and degradation so that at first i became accustomed to it and then finally to look forward to it. He would be so rough with me before taking a shit, yanking me into place by my collar, booting me about, shouting at me; and if he was never exactly gentle with me afterwards, well, i knew that i had pleased him and been of use to him and little by little this was becoming my sole aim in life - to become a totally obedient dog and please my Master.
So that after a few weeks of being restrained in this way, my training changed again and he no longer had to go through the tiresome business of ensuring that i would be his toilet. No the day came when he knew i wanted to be his toilet. From then on he simply dropped his trousers, i would bound towards him and stick my dog face in his ass, my tongue hanging out and panting for the honour of eating my Master's shit.
Yet after a while, even this level of compliance on my part seemed to bore him and he began to experiment, making me lie on my back with my paws in the air while he shat on my chest; then sticking a boot into it, rubbing it all over the boot, then all over my face as i tried frantically to lick the shit from his boot. Finally he would sit down and read a newspaper while my tongue darted between the treads of the boot, getting all the shit out. He always finished by pissing all over my shit covered body and down my throat - hosing me down he called it - the only way i was washed now. He never shaved me again and my hair grew back and then became ragged and filthy. Yet i was happier than ever as a street mutt, still collared and chained, but with nothing of the pampered pedigree about me. Why didn't i realise that with a man like this life is never predictable...
* * * * *
By now i had been living as a dog for a few months and had not hesitated over any order from my Master for at least half of that time. Looking back i could see a pattern in my training. The initial shaving sessions had served to humiliate me and make me aware of just what a useless piece of slave shit i was in the scheme of things. In stripping away my hair he had stripped away my ego, taken away my former identity and then by degrees increasingly dehumanised me so that my responses were no longer rational but simply the primed responses of a trained animal. There was a kind of happiness in it as I did not have to worry about anything other than pleasing my Master. I learned to wait for his approach with real anticipation, hungry for any attention he would bestow on me no matter what it was. When he whipped me, as he still did, although I whimpered I was eager to lick the hand that punished me.
Training me as his toilet was another stage in my move towards being totally compliant. Bit by bit he was bringing me to the stage where I would do anything, absolutely anything he ordered me to. I was shedding all my old human notions of what was right and what was wrong, even of what tasted good and what did not. He told me that the tins of dog food he fed me were delicious so to me they were; that dog biscuits were a treat and a reward and for me they were. So too eating his shit was a special honour reserved for me alone. I was eager to get my tongue up his ass and could scarcely contain my excitement and pleasure as the shit filled my mouth and slid down my throat. The turds had a dark, smokey flavour and eating them and drinking his piss were the closest I could come to being one with him. For to my surprise in the early days, he never fucked me or had me suck him off or anything of a sexual nature. He had decided that I was a dog and only a few men ever fuck their dogs! By letting me eat his shit or smearing me with it, he was addressing that side of the canine nature that loves dirt. He had effectively broken all my taboos. Or so I thought, as my training was not yet complete....
This third part of my training would take me to new depths of humiliation and degradation. My desire for humiliation had always been there and he had realised it and developed it but there was one more bridge to cross before I could be totally animal in every aspect of my life.
That day when my life changed forever I realised that something new was about to happen as soon as he arrived to release me from my cage. When a dog is trained by a Master it comes to recognise the slightest shift in mood or attitude. My Master was a moody man in many ways, at least with me and sometimes there would be a certain friendliness detectable only by me beneath his authority; or at other times there would be a slight glint in the eye that spoke of trouble to come if I were not extra quick in response. I always fawned on him more when he was in these moods to try and convince him that his dog was just waiting for any order to rush to obey it.
No - that morning there was an added toughness in his manner. He was carrying a very firm and very thin leather-covered crop, the most painful of all his whips, when he came to unchain me. Seeing it, I couldn't help it but slunk out of the cage as I moved to his boots. This enraged him of course and he laid into me while I licked frantically at the black leather in front of me.
"You fucking streak of slime, get a fucking move on., or you'll never fucking walk again," he shouted, aiming a few well placed kicks from his steelcapped boots at me. "Now clean that boot you turd and clean it well. You're a fucking useless piece of dogslave shit, you're not worth the trouble I put into your training, you worthless mutt. Today is your last chance to prove that I haven't wasted my time and if you let me down I'll fucking string you up."
Having completed the bootcleaning to his satisfaction and been whipped soundly while doing it, it was time for toilet duty. I was puzzled when he produced a large sheet of black rubber and spread it on the floor. There had never been a need for this as I was not allowed to get any shit or piss on the floor and anything that came out of him always was taken by me. He ordered me onto my back and dropped his trousers. He turned to face me, planted a boot on either side of me and squatted over my chest, verbally abusing me all the while as he waited for the shit to come.
"You fucking toilet, you can't get enough, can you? Fucking faggot dog likes to eat man shit, don't you? If I didn't have other plans for you I'd turn you into a public urinal, chain you down and let anybody who came along piss down your animal throat, and take a shit in that toilet mouth of yours. I'd stick a catheter in that dog cock you've got and feed a tube from it into that animal hole, that shit hole; and all that piss would go down your throat and out of your cock and into that shit hole. And at the end of the day you'd shit it all out into a bucket and then slurp it all up. I'd push your dog face into that bucket full of slime and piss and shit, yeah push your fucking face into it and make you clean it all up. You'd be a fucking toilet machine, just recycling all that filth through your worthless fucking animal body. But I have other plans for you..." By now his load was lying on my chest as he stood up and released a stream of piss onto it as my mouth struggled to catch any that splashed my way. Then planting a boot in it he wiped it all over my dogslave body and my dogslave face as I tried to lap at it with my tongue. I did at least get to lick the shit off the boot and give it a thorough cleaning before he rested it on the floor again.
"Now roll in that shit like the dog you are, get yourself really covered in it, that's right, dog, rub your hair in it, rub that beard in it, get that shit and piss all over your animal hide." I rolled in it, I wiped my face on it, I did my best to get it on every part of my body and at last he was satisfied. Then he ordered me to clean the rubber sheet with my tongue and finally, when that was finished, he commanded me to sit and stay and I sat obediently. He left the room and I waited. Perhaps two hours passed, I don't know, but it seemed an eternity. Meanwhile my shit and piss covered body dried.
At last I heard him coming back, the heavy tread of his engineer boots readily recognisable but I tensed and cocked my head on one side as I heard that he was not alone.
To be continued...
by
grovelslave
[N.B. It takes a while to get to the scat elements but then they dominate.]
I am a dog slave, sold to a young skinhead Master who is heavily into humiliating guys by collaring and chaining them, and training them as dogs.
That, in essence, is my story. There's more to it than that, of course, but that sums it up. It's the detail that makes it interesting so I'll tell you how this happened to an educated, middle-class guy who formerly lived out a life of submission and obedience only in his imagination. I used to be a pushy bottom guy who through subtle and sometimes not so subtle hints was used to controlling the sm sex scenes he chose to explore.
So... I was kidnapped as I was walking home from a leather club late one night. I didn’t think of it as a kidnapping – I felt sure it was some sort of game staged for charity or something like that for I recognised one of the guys who seized me as having been in the club. In fact I had cruised him rather heavily, drawn by the black leather dog collar and leash that dangled from the left side of his belt.
Nothing had come of that to my disappointment. Until now, this moment, when he and another were pinioning me and hooding me. Bound and gagged, I was thrown into the back of a van, driven God knows where or how many miles, then unloaded like a sack of potatoes and transferred to a cell where I was kept chained until it was time for the slave auction that would change my life. My initial fear gave way to a heightened sexuality as I persuaded myself that it was some sort of trick or joke which might actually lead to an intense sex scene. Wasn't this after all one of my fantasies? It was as if the man with the dogleash had read my mind while I had been in the bar, casually rejecting one leather guy after another, searching for the one who would do exactly what I wanted him to. How did these guys who had seized me know that I had long fantasised about just such an event? How did they know that chains rather than rope turned me on? That the idea of being caged would get me hard as a rock?
I had a few hours to think about these things, a few hours which began to drag. When was the sex bit going to start? Chained by the neck to the wall of a dungeon, I was hot and horny, ready for action. I still can't remember at what point I abandoned the idea that this was all some magical realisation of my fantasies. Perhaps, instead, it was a realisation of my inner needs.
Still gagged and in chains, I was led up from the dungeon and put in a cage with about twenty other guys to await the 'sale'. There were all sorts of Masters who looked at us through the bars of the cage. If someone was interested in one of us he would signal to one of the warders who would kick us over to the bars of the cage where we were subject to inspection by our prospective owners.
In some cases it was clear what type of Masters some of these men were by the way they were dressed - some in full rubber, some in police uniforms or army uniforms, the majority in leather. My Master, a tough, hard looking and muscular skinhead with a number 1 crop, was in full leather but in fact he had other plans for me than simply being a slave to a leather Master.
When he got me home after purchasing me, my training began immediately. I had been carried to my new home in a sack and when he untied it and I crawled out, I made the mistake of standing upright in his presence. Immediately he laid into me with a dog leash, whipping me hard and shouting, "Get down on all fours, dog." I fell to the ground, moaning, while he finished whipping me. At one point I groaned "Please Sir" but this made him whip me harder as he said, "You will not speak. From now on you are a dog slave and will be treated solely as a dog. You can whimper and bark but that is all; if you attempt to speak you will be whipped." When he had finished, he stuck out the hand that had punished me and said, "Lick it, dog." Tentatively, I did what I was told.
He locked a thick studded dog collar around my neck. Then he pissed into a dog bowl, set it down on the ground and ordered me to drink it. I crawled to the bowl and lapped up my Master's piss as if it were the freshest water. While I did so, he patted my head saying, "Good dog, that's a good dog. Do what your Master tells you and you won't be whipped." It was difficult but I managed finally to lap up all his piss. Then he said, "You are a dog slave and from now on you will behave as a dog; if you don't, I'll whip you so hard you won't be able to lie down." He buckled a muzzle on my head with a bit in my mouth and padlocked it too, attached a chain to my collar and booted me into a cage, locking the other end of the chain to the bars of the cage. Then he left me for the night.
There was a dog basket in the corner of the cage, with an old blanket in it and I crawled into the basket and tried to sleep but I kept thinking of the strange turn my life had taken and was suddenly apprehensive about the future. This wasn't the kind of scene I had envisaged but it was a Friday and the weekend stretched ahead. If this was the guy's scene then he was hot enough looking for me to go along with it. I resolved to try to behave like a dog as much as possible as it was clearly in my best interests to do so. Finally I went to sleep.
In the morning my Master came to me again. I was awake before he arrived and had time to gather my thoughts and turn my attention to the ways I would show him that I was attempting to shed all vestiges of human behaviour and act like a dog. So when he entered the room where my cage was, I crawled out of my basket towards the gate of the cage, whimpering with pleasure, and desperate to lick my Master's hands as he unlocked the cage. He was dressed in full black leather again and was carrying a small canvas bag. I strained at the end of my chain to get to his hands or his heavy black leather boots and lick them but could not reach the bars of the cage. When I was released, and he had removed my muzzle, I crawled to his boots and licked them eagerly through the bit between my teeth.
While I was doing this, he picked up my dog bowl and pissed in it again, then set it down on the floor.
Immediately I turned to it and started to lap but he kicked me roughly aside with his boot and said sternly, "Bad dog, wait until you are told to drink it." He removed the bit between my teeth and put the bowl about ten feet away from me. Then, turning to me, he said, "Sit!" Instantly I sat like a dog, quivering with excitement. He held up a finger in warning and said, "Stay. Thataboy. Stay." I whimpered expectantly and finally he said, "Come on boy, come here." I crawled quickly towards him, woofing with pleasure and sat at his feet, looking up at him and panting, then at the bowl and then back to him again. Finally, he said to me, "OK boy, drink it." I greedily lapped up his piss. When I had finished, and had gone back to licking his boots, he opened the canvas bag and produced a tin of dog food and a can opener. After opening the can, he spooned the coarse food out into the bowl and we went through the same ritual before I was allowed to eat.
I attacked the dog food voraciously, partly because I was hungry and partly because I knew that that was the way dogs eat. My initial revulsion soon disappeared as I realised that the disgust was all in the mind. The food itself was tasty and meaty. Obviously I had pleased him because he patted my head and said, "Good dog." When I had finished eating, he produced a butt plug to which was attached a long hairy tail and he shoved this up my ass, strapping it in place and locking it. He then instructed me in moving my ass so that it made the tail wag. It stayed in place until it was time for me to shit. Then he would remove it, attach a dog lead to my collar, and lead me out to the garden. There I was forced to crawl around sniffing until i found a suitable spot where I would raise a leg and piss and then curl my back and shit like a dog.
He also padlocked leather mitts to my hands and feet so that they more resembled paws - certainly they prevented me from behaving like a human being. I was surprised when he shaved my entire body of hair as I imagined that he would have wanted a hairy dog but it did have the effect of further humiliating and degrading me, especially when he took the electric shears to my head and gave me a closer cut than any marine has had. I was pretty furious about this - a shaved body I could easily hide when my 'weekend' was over but not a shaved head which would definitely mark me out as a slave. Yet again, the first word of protest out of my mouth and he laid into me again.
At times he would simply sit in an armchair and read a newspaper while I lay at his feet and licked his boots. At times he would drop a hand and gently pat me or tickle me behind the ears. But I was whipped quite often for not obeying quickly enough.
I waited for sex to take place but it never happened. Finally, I tried to reason with him but he laid into me so hard with a belt that I soon shut up. Then he did explain to me just what my position was and after another furious outburst of protest and another belting I learned to keep quiet. I'll not bore you with the stages by which I accepted my position - I had no choice so I did.
After a few days, he told me that my name was now Rex, a classic dog's name but one that would serve to remind me that I was now living the life of a dog slave. I quickly learnt that life would not be too bad if I obeyed him instantly in all things for any hint of disobedience would be punished with a severe whipping with my dog leash or a leather belt. Each night I would be chained in my cage and so little by little a routine was established which effectively led to my abandonment of human ways and to a seemingly contented state living as a dog.
* * * * *
After a few weeks of dog training i thought my life was now settled into a routine and one that could have been a lot worse. True i was totally deprived of liberty - i still had a collar locked round my neck, i still slept in a cage on an old rug and was chained to the wall, i never went outside except at night on my leash to piss and shit; but set against that i was warm and fed and was only occasionally whipped for slowness in responding. As i had become accustomed to moving on all fours, new muscles had developed, my speed had increased and increasingly my behaviour was more that of a dog than a human. Severe whippings in the early days had quickly taught me that total obedience to my Master's wishes was definitely the best policy and i had soon ceased to be embarrassed by the life of barking and whining, crawling and licking that had been forced on me. my Master still shaved my entire body every day but this helped to remind me of my lowly status in the scheme of things.
my first inkling that things were about to change came on the morning when, after the ritual of licking his boots and drinking his piss from my dog bowl, he did not proceed to the shaving ritual. Nor did he take me to the small yard outside and hose me down which is the nearest I ever came to having a bath or shower; after that he would generally play a game of 'fetch' with me with a rubber ball and would finish by throwing me a couple of dog biscuits. Not today. Why? i sat on my haunches cocking my head quizzically at him, wondering at the change of routine. Suddenly he grabbed me by my collar and dragged me roughly to the wall where he chained me on a very small chain so that I could barely move around. Then without warning he pulled the leather belt out of his trousers and laid into me, laying the blows more forcefully than he had ever done before. my first instinct was to cry out in human speech and ask him what i had done to offend him, for never before had he whipped me for no reason, but i curbed this and whimpered and whined as i twisted and turned on my short length of chain.
Finally dropping the belt, he unchained me and dragged me by the collar out of the room and down the corridor to his toilet. Slamming the door behind him he booted me over to the toilet bowl and forced my head down. i recoiled a little as the bowl was full of cold stale piss, unflushed from the last time he had used it but i soon felt his heavy engineer boot on my neck forcing my head back down.
"Lap it up, dog," he said, in a voice harsher and meaner than he usually used. i stuck my head down into the dark yellow-brown liquid and started to lap it as fast as i could. He must not have flushed the bowl for some time as the piss was stale and acrid, not at all like the warm fresh piss i was used to drinking from my dog bowl. While i was doing this i heard the zipper of his leather trousers being pulled down and then a stream of hot piss hit my head and flowed over my face into the mixture of cold piss and water. "Drink it all, you fucking animal," he said. i lapped and lapped, wondering when i would be told to stop. After many minutes he evidently decided that i had done enough because he flushed the bowl and yanked my head out of the deluge of water, me coughing and spluttering.
"OK, dog, we haven't finished in here yet. I'm not planning on using this toilet again - ever. So I'm gonna make sure it's nice and clean before I shut it up. Now get that fucking tongue of yours into that bowl again and lick it, all of it." I didn't hesitate. His tone showed he really meant business. "That's it, fucker. Now get that tongue up round the rim, that's right, clean it all out."
As my tongue went up beneath the rim and encountered years of splashbacks from piss and shit my gorge rose and i nearly gagged but i had been well enough trained not even to hint at unwillingness and kept at my task. i sensed him standing over me and from time to time he would plant a boot firmly on my back just to remind me that he was there and watching how well i was doing it. At last it was done.
i think he was pleased. At least he patted me on the head as he attached my leash and turned to go. Just before we left he picked up a roll of toilet tissue and dropped it in the waste paper basket.
"Well I guess I won't be needing that again," he said as we left the room. i crawled docilely beside him, to heel as i had been taught, matching his pace as we went back to the room where my cage was kept. Once there he commanded me to sit and stay. i obeyed as he unlocked a cupboard and hauled out a heavy wooden contraption and placed it in the centre of the room. It was a form of chair but with a long angled plank of wood running underneath from the seat to the floor. At the side was a winch and, as he started to crank on this, the plank went flat to the floor.
He called me to him and i bounded over, though inwardly apprehensive about what was about to happen. He ordered me to slide along on my back on the plank until my head was level with the underside of the seat. There it encountered a strange leather cradle which held the back of the head in a fixed position and on either side long leather strips which he threaded through the seat. He quickly fixed my ankles in restraints to the bottom of the plank and made me put my arms behind my head.
Then he winched the board back up to its original angle. As my head neared the bottom of the seat my eyes came into contact with a hole with a round hard piece of moulded rubber sticking down from it.
"Get that dog mouth round that rubber, fucker," he said and i did so as he finished cranking. Then seizing my arms he raised them high along the back of the chair and buckled restraints into place. i was held totally immobile, unable to move at all, with my head pulled close and tight to the seat as he tied the leather strips firmly in place. my mouth was held open to its fullest extent and already my jaw ached. Again i heard the zipper of his trousers and i wanted to shout out, "You don't have to do all this, Sir! i'll drink your piss from your cock if that's what you want, Sir!" But it wasn't what he wanted. He sat down and planted his heavy boots on my thighs and only then did i realise what was about to happen. He was taking a shit and i was his toilet!
"You fucking mutts are always sniffing each other's shit," he said, "and licking each other's assholes so I'm gonna train you up to be a real dog toilet. So get ready to take it, fuckface for here it comes."
i squirmed and wriggled but i couldn't move. i couldn't speak though i think i would have broken his rules at this point, for the first time in about a month, if i hadn't been so effectively secured and plugged. The first turd came slowly down the chute and into my mouth. i suddenly felt that i was no longer even a dog but simply part of a machine, a toilet bowl, and that i could go no lower in degradation. i started to gag but i had a terrible moment of panic when i thought that i would choke on my own vomit before he could release me, if he decided to release me for after all i was simply a piece of property, less than a real dog, not even registered. And as the turd entered my mouth i knew that i had to concentrate on breathing through my nose. It slid inexorably over my tongue and down my throat but my relief at this was short lived as it was quickly followed by another and finally a third.
That was my first time to be used as my Master's total toilet. When he released me he pissed down my throat to wash it out before i turned my attention to his shitty arse, sticking my tongue deep inside and cleaning him out thoroughly. This became my new morning ritual though of course he used me as a urinal at any time of the day and occasionally would come to me during the night to piss down my throat or simply all over me if he couldn't be bothered to aim for my mouth. At first i hated it. i hated the claustrophobic restraint more than anything and the difficulty in breathing. As for the shit - well, after a while my mind went into a wild ecstasy of humiliation and degradation so that at first i became accustomed to it and then finally to look forward to it. He would be so rough with me before taking a shit, yanking me into place by my collar, booting me about, shouting at me; and if he was never exactly gentle with me afterwards, well, i knew that i had pleased him and been of use to him and little by little this was becoming my sole aim in life - to become a totally obedient dog and please my Master.
So that after a few weeks of being restrained in this way, my training changed again and he no longer had to go through the tiresome business of ensuring that i would be his toilet. No the day came when he knew i wanted to be his toilet. From then on he simply dropped his trousers, i would bound towards him and stick my dog face in his ass, my tongue hanging out and panting for the honour of eating my Master's shit.
Yet after a while, even this level of compliance on my part seemed to bore him and he began to experiment, making me lie on my back with my paws in the air while he shat on my chest; then sticking a boot into it, rubbing it all over the boot, then all over my face as i tried frantically to lick the shit from his boot. Finally he would sit down and read a newspaper while my tongue darted between the treads of the boot, getting all the shit out. He always finished by pissing all over my shit covered body and down my throat - hosing me down he called it - the only way i was washed now. He never shaved me again and my hair grew back and then became ragged and filthy. Yet i was happier than ever as a street mutt, still collared and chained, but with nothing of the pampered pedigree about me. Why didn't i realise that with a man like this life is never predictable...
* * * * *
By now i had been living as a dog for a few months and had not hesitated over any order from my Master for at least half of that time. Looking back i could see a pattern in my training. The initial shaving sessions had served to humiliate me and make me aware of just what a useless piece of slave shit i was in the scheme of things. In stripping away my hair he had stripped away my ego, taken away my former identity and then by degrees increasingly dehumanised me so that my responses were no longer rational but simply the primed responses of a trained animal. There was a kind of happiness in it as I did not have to worry about anything other than pleasing my Master. I learned to wait for his approach with real anticipation, hungry for any attention he would bestow on me no matter what it was. When he whipped me, as he still did, although I whimpered I was eager to lick the hand that punished me.
Training me as his toilet was another stage in my move towards being totally compliant. Bit by bit he was bringing me to the stage where I would do anything, absolutely anything he ordered me to. I was shedding all my old human notions of what was right and what was wrong, even of what tasted good and what did not. He told me that the tins of dog food he fed me were delicious so to me they were; that dog biscuits were a treat and a reward and for me they were. So too eating his shit was a special honour reserved for me alone. I was eager to get my tongue up his ass and could scarcely contain my excitement and pleasure as the shit filled my mouth and slid down my throat. The turds had a dark, smokey flavour and eating them and drinking his piss were the closest I could come to being one with him. For to my surprise in the early days, he never fucked me or had me suck him off or anything of a sexual nature. He had decided that I was a dog and only a few men ever fuck their dogs! By letting me eat his shit or smearing me with it, he was addressing that side of the canine nature that loves dirt. He had effectively broken all my taboos. Or so I thought, as my training was not yet complete....
This third part of my training would take me to new depths of humiliation and degradation. My desire for humiliation had always been there and he had realised it and developed it but there was one more bridge to cross before I could be totally animal in every aspect of my life.
That day when my life changed forever I realised that something new was about to happen as soon as he arrived to release me from my cage. When a dog is trained by a Master it comes to recognise the slightest shift in mood or attitude. My Master was a moody man in many ways, at least with me and sometimes there would be a certain friendliness detectable only by me beneath his authority; or at other times there would be a slight glint in the eye that spoke of trouble to come if I were not extra quick in response. I always fawned on him more when he was in these moods to try and convince him that his dog was just waiting for any order to rush to obey it.
No - that morning there was an added toughness in his manner. He was carrying a very firm and very thin leather-covered crop, the most painful of all his whips, when he came to unchain me. Seeing it, I couldn't help it but slunk out of the cage as I moved to his boots. This enraged him of course and he laid into me while I licked frantically at the black leather in front of me.
"You fucking streak of slime, get a fucking move on., or you'll never fucking walk again," he shouted, aiming a few well placed kicks from his steelcapped boots at me. "Now clean that boot you turd and clean it well. You're a fucking useless piece of dogslave shit, you're not worth the trouble I put into your training, you worthless mutt. Today is your last chance to prove that I haven't wasted my time and if you let me down I'll fucking string you up."
Having completed the bootcleaning to his satisfaction and been whipped soundly while doing it, it was time for toilet duty. I was puzzled when he produced a large sheet of black rubber and spread it on the floor. There had never been a need for this as I was not allowed to get any shit or piss on the floor and anything that came out of him always was taken by me. He ordered me onto my back and dropped his trousers. He turned to face me, planted a boot on either side of me and squatted over my chest, verbally abusing me all the while as he waited for the shit to come.
"You fucking toilet, you can't get enough, can you? Fucking faggot dog likes to eat man shit, don't you? If I didn't have other plans for you I'd turn you into a public urinal, chain you down and let anybody who came along piss down your animal throat, and take a shit in that toilet mouth of yours. I'd stick a catheter in that dog cock you've got and feed a tube from it into that animal hole, that shit hole; and all that piss would go down your throat and out of your cock and into that shit hole. And at the end of the day you'd shit it all out into a bucket and then slurp it all up. I'd push your dog face into that bucket full of slime and piss and shit, yeah push your fucking face into it and make you clean it all up. You'd be a fucking toilet machine, just recycling all that filth through your worthless fucking animal body. But I have other plans for you..." By now his load was lying on my chest as he stood up and released a stream of piss onto it as my mouth struggled to catch any that splashed my way. Then planting a boot in it he wiped it all over my dogslave body and my dogslave face as I tried to lap at it with my tongue. I did at least get to lick the shit off the boot and give it a thorough cleaning before he rested it on the floor again.
"Now roll in that shit like the dog you are, get yourself really covered in it, that's right, dog, rub your hair in it, rub that beard in it, get that shit and piss all over your animal hide." I rolled in it, I wiped my face on it, I did my best to get it on every part of my body and at last he was satisfied. Then he ordered me to clean the rubber sheet with my tongue and finally, when that was finished, he commanded me to sit and stay and I sat obediently. He left the room and I waited. Perhaps two hours passed, I don't know, but it seemed an eternity. Meanwhile my shit and piss covered body dried.
At last I heard him coming back, the heavy tread of his engineer boots readily recognisable but I tensed and cocked my head on one side as I heard that he was not alone.
To be continued...