Master and slave

(1)
Without any discomfort, I knelt before my master. This was what I had expected and loved. My body was naked, my breasts were exposed, but around my neck was a collar my master had put on me. The collar was made of black genuine leather, which contrasted perfectly with my white skin. An iron chain hung naturally from the collar, making a pleasant sound whenever I moved.
On the west wall was a large mirror. I turned my head and saw my master in the mirror, so sexy and so tender. My master was wearing pajamas and sat upright in a chair, like a statue. My master's gaze was fixed on my naked body, and that gaze revealed deep affection and love. My master's hands, with their smooth bones, were very handsome. They were stroking my hair and occasionally turning my head to kiss my master's penis, which was exposed under the hem of his pajamas.
As lovers who had loved each other for many years, my master had always been incredibly loving towards me, and I also deeply loved my master. My master is my life, my sun, my beloved whom I will forever follow and serve. I withdrew my gaze; my master's penis was hard and erect, like a towering jade pillar. My tongue gently licked it, occasionally moistening it with my lips. I could feel the warmth of my master's penis, and I could also feel his pleasure.
Savoring my master's fragrance, my heart was filled with joy. As my master's penis trembled, I quickened my sucking, my head shaking constantly, the iron chains attached to the collar rattling as if playing a melody of our joyful union. My master pushed my head away, withdrawing his penis from my mouth, but I still followed it with longing, following the object of my dreams.
The master laughed and said, "Little darling, your lower part is itching too, isn't it? It's time for me to give you some pleasure." The master pulled me by the chain on my collar, leading me to the mirror and making me face it. I lay on my hands on the ground, my white buttocks sticking out like a dog. My genitals were already incredibly wet, my thick labia trembling, waiting to be penetrated, waiting to be penetrated by my master.
The master stood behind me, one hand holding the chain that bound me, the other stroking my wet genitals. I couldn't help but moan; that tingling sensation overwhelmed my sexual urges. I felt as if I were walking in clouds, floating on air—this was my blissful moment. The master's hand continued its controlled movements, working on my shaved white genitals. The master said, "Why are these freshly shaved pubic hairs showing again?"
I moaned, shaking my buttocks, truly resembling a female dog in heat. I pleaded, "Master, please enter my body, I want to become one with you." Seeing my eager expression, the master smiled, withdrawing his hand from my genitals and gently patting my buttocks a few times, like a dam about to burst, then bursting under the force of a flood. The masochistic factors within me intensified my sexual pleasure, and my moans became even more unrestrained.
The master's penis was also exceptionally hard, smoothly entering my genitals. At this moment, my genitals rhythmically opened and closed, accepting the master's entry. When the master's penis was fully inside my wet, sticky lower body, I felt full—not only physically, but also spiritually.
The master released the chains, placing his hands on my hips like a general, and I was the warhorse he commanded. The chain slid down my neck, and with my master's entry and thrusting, waves of pleasure surged from my body like a tidal wave. I groaned loudly and shook my head violently, and the chain trembled with my shaking. I turned my head and put the chain in my mouth to suppress my groans—
my master was thrusting violently behind me, and my genitals were enduring his constant impact. This impact was a kind of love, a kind of human truth. I liked this impact, just as I liked love. I even hoped that this impact, this love, could continue for my entire life and never end—
(2)
Nestled in my master's arms, I felt happy and secure, and felt a sense of belonging. My master's shoulders were broad and elastic, the standard shoulders of a man, which implied strength and warmth. My body was soft and boneless, smooth as jade, and was often described by my master as a sexy mermaid. My master embraced me, what he called "winning the beauty's heart."
The bedroom was dimly lit and peaceful, with soft music playing intermittently from the stereo system. When my master and I both reached our climax and lay sprawled on the floor, what I loved to hear most was my master's murmured words: "Zhao, my little Zhao, I love you." It was his voice from the bottom of his heart, an absolute and unadulterated expression. And I could only reply cautiously: "Master, I love you too, I am willing to be your slave forever."
After washing up, my master led me to the bed and unchained me from my collar. I glanced at my master's limp penis, gently stroking it, and said, "Master, shall we still tie me up?"
My master lowered his head and kissed me, saying, "What do you say?"
I knelt before him, placing my hands behind my back, and said, "Master, please tie up your slave."
My master pulled a red rope from beside the pillow on the bed. Seeing the rope, I felt a heat rising in my groin, as if the rope were part of my body. My master threaded the rope through the iron ring behind my collar, then wrapped it twice around my upper arms, tied a knot, and pulled it to the front, beginning to bind my small breasts. Under the binding, my breasts began to stand erect, like two mounds. I looked down, my face burning, and I could feel my breathing quickening.
After binding my breasts, my master pulled the remaining rope behind his back and tied it, without binding my forearms and wrists. This was an improvement my master made after binding me many times. This way, my hands still had some freedom, allowing me to maintain my balance as much as possible. Moreover, with this binding method, my arms wouldn't become numb due to poor blood circulation after a night's sleep.
During the binding process, I could feel my master's excitement; his penis began to harden and rubbed against my body from time to time. At the same time, I also felt sensations in my body. I squinted my eyes, moaning softly, fully savoring the feeling of being tortured.
With the clanking of the chains, I knew my master had taken out the shackles I had to wear every night—a pair of stainless steel shackles weighing over nine pounds. My master's hand grasped my kneeling ankles. I could feel the cool touch of the shackles against my skin. With a "click," the shackles were on my ankles, then the other.
My master lay back on the bed, smiling as he looked at me, at this bound, shackled slave, his erect penis standing proudly. I shifted my knees, dragging the shackles from my feet, and moved closer to my master. I bent down and brought my mouth to his penis, slowly sucking and licking it, as if it were my slave's delicacy. My
master closed his eyes, enjoying himself immensely, occasionally letting out a groan. I served him even more diligently; this was my duty, a slave's duty. I knew that my master's happiness was my happiness, and conversely, my happiness was my master's happiness. My master enjoyed himself with pleasure, and his penis, under my teasing, gradually grew larger and thicker. I glanced at him and saw that my master had completely lost his dignity, like a newborn girl just falling in love.
I laughed, wanting to play a joke on my master. I withdrew my tongue from licking my master's penis and gently rubbed it a few times with my two rows of teeth--
(3)
As my teeth chattered, my master, who was lying on the bed enjoying himself, let out an exaggerated cry. I raised my head and asked with a hint of schadenfreude, "What's wrong, Master? What are you yelling about?"
My master reached out and pinched my small nose, saying, "You want to murder your husband? See how I deal with you."
I feigned fear and tried my best to break free from my master's hand pinching my nose, saying, "This slave wouldn't dare, this slave didn't mean it, please punish me, Master."
"Alright," my master said, "Then tell me, what is the punishment for murdering one's husband—"
My mind raced, and I said, "According to ancient laws, murdering one's husband is punishable by being paraded through the streets on a wooden donkey and slowly sliced to death."
My master pinched my nose harder and said fiercely, "Then tell me, how will I punish you?"
Seeing my master's expression, I couldn't help but want to laugh, but my nose was sore from being pinched by my master, so I couldn't laugh at all. I looked up and said, "This slave truly didn't mean it. Please forgive me, Master. If you wish to punish me, please love me and use your penis to vigorously violate this slave's genitals."
The master laughed, released his hand from my nose, and said, "Aren't you ashamed? You've just been penetrated, and you still want more."
I lay on top of the master, using my unbound hands to grasp his erect penis, and said, "No, no, this slave just wants it, every day, all the time, wanting Master's big bird to penetrate me."
Actually, I felt no discomfort as I said these words. The master was my greatest love, and I was the master's pet. In our interactions, we abandoned all pretense and masks. We were immersed in the game of love, enjoying it immensely, our hearts in perfect harmony.
The master said, "Without rules, there can be no order. You murdered your husband; you may escape death, but you will not escape punishment. I hereby sentence you to act as a female dog for one day, as a warning to others."
I nestled in the master's arms, swaying my body and acting coquettishly, saying, "This slave accepts the master's punishment, but tonight I want to sleep with the master. Tomorrow, I can act as the master's female dog again, okay?"
The master shook his head, helpless with my coquettishness, and reached out to pull me into his arms, saying, "Alright, alright. I will sleep with my little slave tonight."
Seeing that the master had agreed to my request, I was very happy. Tonight I could sleep in the master's broad, warm embrace again, instead of being dragged by chains like a female dog, curled up in the basement or at the master's feet. I lay on the master's chest, sticking out my tongue and gently licking the master's breast, as docile as a cat. I knew that the master also liked my licking.
Sure enough, my master's arms tightened around me, and I lifted my shackled legs, trapping his penis between my legs. I liked this position; in my mind, it was as if his penis was an integral part of my body. Only when it was inside me or held tightly did I feel full and pleasurable. My master
gently patted my back, his tender gesture moving me deeply. I enjoyed this bliss in his arms, and at the same time, I secretly vowed to obey him and be a good slave. Whatever he asked me to do, I would do it; I wanted to please him and make him love me.
Thinking of the punishment he would inflict on me tomorrow, my face flushed slightly, but at the same time, a sense of anticipation filled my heart. Because I knew that with each punishment, my master loved me even more. Thinking of myself naked, unable to stand, and only able to live like a dog, thinking of the jingling bells hanging on my collar and nipples, and especially thinking of the real dog's tail being inserted into my anus, my lower body gradually became wet again--
(4)
When I woke up, my master had already gotten up, and the space next to me was empty, leaving only my master's body odor. I used my unbound hands to support myself on the bed, slowly lifted myself up, and got off the bed. Perhaps it was the sound of the iron chains dragging on the ground that startled my master, who asked from the kitchen: "Xiao Zhao, are you awake? Wait a moment, I'll be right there."
I walked to the kitchen door and saw that my master had already fried eggs and heated milk, and placed them on the dining table. I quickly said, "Master, these are tasks for slaves to do, how could I trouble you—"
The master wiped his hands with a towel, walked up to me, kissed me, and said, "Let's make an exception today."
I smiled; I knew this must be a trick by the master. Every time before the master prepared to punish or discipline me, he treated me exceptionally well, cherishing and protecting me, and this time was no exception. Thinking of the master's words last night, his decision to sentence me to be a bitch for a day, and seeing his current behavior, I understood everything.
I leaned against the wooden door of the kitchen, shaking my bound body, and said, "Please, master, untie this slave. After this slave comes out of the bathroom, I will properly accept the master's punishment and be a good bitch."
The master smiled, bent down, picked me up, and walked towards the bathroom. The stainless steel shackles on my feet naturally drooped, and the chains made a "clattering" sound.
In the bathroom, I struggled to get down from my master's arms, but he stopped me, instead holding me close, his hands scooping up my legs. I was held like an infant. My head rested against his chest, my face burning. I could see my two pale legs stretched out horizontally, and the iron shackles on my feet jingling.
"Master, I can't pee like this—" I said shamefully.
My master didn't speak, but turned on the tap beside him, and the water gushed out, the sound arousing my urge to urinate. Then he whistled softly, as if I were truly an innocent infant being held to urinate by an adult.
Finally, the urine gushed out, like a silver jet shooting forward. I quickly raised my legs to prevent the urine from hitting the iron chains of my shackles. My master's hand moved downwards, touching my labia and my urethra, itching and tingling. I tried to hold back, quickly saying, "Master, no, it's dirty—"
My master's hand touched my genitals, saying, "Haha, how could it be? A virgin's urine is the finest thing in the world, how could it be dirty? Besides, you're a virgin, even more precious."
I swayed my buttocks shyly and said to my master, "Master, that's enough, please put your slave down."
My master's hand continued to touch downwards, touching my anus, and he brought his head close to my ear, gently saying, "This hasn't been cleaned yet."
I shook my head and said, "This slave doesn't want to now."
"How can that be? You'll be playing the role of a female dog later, and a tail will be inserted here. How can it not be cleaned now?" My master's hand continued to touch me as he spoke gently.
I nestled my head against my master's chest, closed my eyes, and said, "Master, can I not wear a tail?"
"No," my master said. "You murdered your husband, and you should have been executed by slow slicing on a wooden donkey. Now I'm showing you leniency, and instead of thanking you, you're making demands. Besides, how ugly is a dog with a bald tail—"
Seeing that there was no room for negotiation, I didn't insist. After all, I couldn't refuse two masters, so I had no choice but to follow my master's wishes.
After I finished urinating, my master turned on the shower. My arms were still bound and not untied. Warm water poured down from above, splashing onto my skin, which felt very comfortable. My master carefully wiped me, and I was like a doll, passively accepting my master's service and love. This moment was the happiest time of my life. It made me deeply intoxicated, intoxicated by my master's hands and the warm water flowing over my whole body.
(5)
My master also fed me breakfast. I sat upright at the table, my feet were locked with stainless steel shackles, my white breasts and arms were bound with red ropes, and a black collar was worn on my high neck, like a captured princess. My master sat next to me, smiling, and very elegantly fed me breakfast. He was just like a responsible man, specifically a lover, husband, or father. Anyway, the man in my heart was like my master.
I instinctively swallowed the food fed by my master. I was very obedient. I knew that my master loved my obedient nature most, so no matter what, I was always a docile slave. My master smiled at me, and I, between swallows, squinted my eyes, shamelessly fawning over him, occasionally sticking out my tongue as if to kiss him.
My master laughed, took a sip of milk, and brought it to my lips. I quickly raised my head, opened my mouth, and accepted my master's favor. The sweet milk flowed through my mouth, and then my master's tongue slipped in, meeting mine. A warm current of happiness instantly flowed through my entire body. Unfortunately, my arms were still bound, preventing me from embracing my master. I could only straighten my body, rubbing my breasts against his.
I knelt before my master, as docile as an obedient female dog. My master lovingly untied the ropes binding my arms and breasts. Then, he reached out and gently stroked the marks left by the bindings on my body, as if caressing a fine piece of jade. Next, he moved behind me, bent down, and unlocked the shackles on my feet, placing them beside me. He
stroked my hair and asked, "Are you truly willing to be a bitch for twenty-four hours a day, without complaint?"
"Yes," I replied, "I am willing to be my master's bitch, without any complaints."
My master said, "As a bitch, you will no longer be able to stand or walk, and you will no longer speak human language. Can you do that?"
I nodded and said, "This slave can do it. This slave likes to be a bitch. Please dress this slave up, master."
My master kissed me first, then took out two small copper bells and carefully tied them to my nipples with red silk thread. When my master tied the copper bells to my nipples, my breasts began to harden and swell, and a strange excitement stirred within me, as if I were born with a masochistic nature, and all of this was what I liked and anticipated.
Next, my master took out two larger copper bells. I knew they were ornaments for the collar around my neck, the mark of a female dog. I also knew that once these two copper bells were tied to my collar, my identity was that of my master's female dog. No matter what movement I made, these two copper bells would jingle, reminding me of my female dog status. At the same time, I knew that once I wore these copper bells representing my female dog status, my identity changed from slave to female dog; I would no longer be able to stand or walk, no longer be able to speak human language.
I laid my hands on the ground, stretching out my long neck, letting my master hang the two jingling copper bells on my collar. After my master finished hanging them, I shook my head, and the two copper bells rang cheerfully, crisp and melodious. My master slapped my bottom and said, "Aren't you going to thank your master for this reward—"
I wagged my bottom and barked twice, "Woof, woof—" Even this slight movement made the brass bells on my collar and breasts jingle. My master laughed and took two knee pads, putting them on my left and right knees respectively. I knew that this was my master's love for me, and also a kind of protection, so that even if I knelt or crawled for a long time, my knees would not feel pain or discomfort.
The stainless steel shackles were put back on my ankles, but this time not only my feet were shackled, but my wrists were also chained by my master, although the chains on my wrists were much shorter and not very heavy. For the convenience of crawling, my master used another chain to connect the chains on my wrists to the chains on my ankles. In this way, when I crawled, I could pull the shackles on my feet with a lift of my hand.
(6)
Finally, my master took out my last ornament, a real dog tail. However, this dog tail had been modified by my master. The front end was a transparent silicone body with a hollowed-out sphere inside, which made it easy for my master to insert without easily slipping off. Moreover, the hollowed-out structure did not hinder the flow of gas in my body. The dog's tail was behind the silicone body, black and shiny, and fluffy.
Seeing that object, I felt a sense of fear. I remember when my master first inserted that dog tail into my anus, every time, my anus was stretched painfully and burning, and I couldn't move very freely. Of course, after many insertions, my anus could accept it very easily, but the past pain still made me apprehensive about this dog tail.
My master put the silicone tail into my anus and made me hold it. Then, he touched my anus, which was contracted and dry due to tension, applied some glycerin, and began to rub it. Soon, my anus relaxed under my master's rubbing. He removed the tail from my mouth, which was covered in my saliva. He brought it to my anus and easily inserted it—
I instinctively let out a soft "ah" as he inserted the tail. Then, I felt my anus fill and begin to contract. I lay on the ground, wagging my tail to thank him, while the bells on my collar and nipples jingled, my lewdness beyond compare. My master slapped
my buttocks and said, "Alright, now our bitch can exercise."
I opened my mouth and barked twice, then stretched out my limbs, dragging the chains on my hands and feet around my master twice, just like a real pet dog. Only, my disguise as a pet dog was more burdened, as the shackles on my hands and feet restricted my freedom and increased my workload.
The master glanced at the wall clock and said, "Savor this moment. Tomorrow at this time, you'll be free."
I looked up and barked twice in response.
The master dressed, tied his tie, and looked as dashing as a prince, tucking his briefcase under his arm. I knew the master was going to work, about to leave my sight. Reluctantly, I nuzzled my head against his legs, displaying an affectionate gesture. The master took a thick felt mat and placed it in front of the computer desk in the study, leading me there. I knew that would be my home.
I lay diagonally on the mat, adjusting the shackles on my hands and feet, looking like a docile female dog. I tried my best to lean back, avoiding contact between my tail and the mat. My owner pulled a book from the shelf and placed it in front of me, saying, "You're a cultured bitch. When I'm not around, read a book; it'll keep you from feeling lonely and missing me."
I barked twice to thank my owner for his concern. I knew it was Li Yinhe's *Sadomasochistic Subculture*, a book my owner and I both loved to read. Its elegant cover concealed a wealth of content, especially the appendix, Wang Xiaobo's translation of *The Story of O*, a classic of sadomasochistic literature.
The master squatted down, kissed my lips, and then flicked the bell on my nipple, making it ring. Only then did the master show a satisfied smile and leave the room.
I saw the master's figure disappear outside the door, and I heard the sound of the master locking the door, first the bedroom door, and then the steel-barred security door. Now, there was only me in the room, no, a dog, a female dog draped in chains and bells. I lay diagonally on the felt mat that the master had placed there, aimlessly flipping through the pages of a book, missing the master in my heart.
The master was my classmate in middle school, and you could say he was my childhood friend. I remember that meeting the master was also a coincidence, just like the saying goes: "Fish find fish, shrimp find shrimp." In the vast sea of people, to have a friend like the master as a lifelong partner is also a kind of happiness for us.
(7)
When I was in middle school, I was fascinated by being tied up and restrained. Back then, I developed a physical connection to these scenes and descriptions in movies and books. Whenever I saw such scenes, I felt my body heat up and experienced a kind of pleasure. Sometimes I would fantasize that I was the one being bound and restrained, in a dark prison, on a terrifying execution ground, wearing shackles, imprisoned and escorted—
so, consciously or unconsciously, I always liked to put my hands behind my back, as if I were bound, or stand under a big tree on campus, or under the flagpole on the playground, indulging in these fantasies. I could also always feel a pair of eyes watching me, as if they had seen through the secrets in my heart.
The owner of those eyes is my current master, a man who is both quiet and slightly rugged. Of course, this is a secret that we only revealed to each other many years later, after we had both entered society and met again. It seems as if it was fate's arrangement that brought my master and me together, that gave me a sense of belonging, and that gave my master this obedient slave.
The first time I visited my master's home, I was a shy girl. Holding his hand as we walked down the street, I would blush when we bumped into acquaintances. In his bedroom, I saw a magazine for the first time, something like "Hong Kong Crime Cases," with colorful covers featuring beautifully bound women. My breath quickened; I never imagined my longing would actually materialize.
My master placed his hand on my shoulder and asked, "Do you like it?"
I didn't answer, rolled the book up in my hands, and closed my eyes. I couldn't answer that question. Although I'd dreamt of this scene countless times, I always believed it only existed in dreams—
my master gently lifted my head, a kiss shattering all my defenses, and I nestled in his arms, as docile as a kitten. My master and I flipped through the colorful pages, looking at the bound women. In my heart, I so desperately wanted those bound women to be me.
However, when my master brought his mouth close to my ear and gently asked, "Shall I tie you up too?" I still shook my head shyly and said, "No, I'm scared."
My master smiled and said, "Don't you trust me?"
I said, "No, I trust you."
My master asked again, "Don't you love me, or don't I love you?"
I didn't speak, but turned around and hugged my master tightly, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. At that moment, my body felt hot, and tears involuntarily streamed down my face.
After a long while, I left my master's embrace, knelt down in front of him, put my arms behind my back, bit my lip, and said, "Tie me up, I'm willing—"
My master was also very excited. He picked me up, first kissed my slightly closed eyes, then brought my arms from behind to the front and carefully tied my wrists together with a rope, as carefully as if binding a delicate piece of porcelain. That was also the first time I was truly tied up. I tried to move my wrists; there was no discomfort or pain, only that my hands, which were usually free, were now restricted, crossed together, controlled by a rope—
…
“Ring-ring—” The ringing of the phone brought me back to my memories. I looked at the wall clock; it was almost ten o'clock. I sat up from the felt mat, dragging my chains, and crawled towards the desk where the phone was, truly like a female dog. From the caller ID, I knew it was my master's cell phone—
I dared not pick up the receiver. I knew I had to maintain a female dog-like state at all times, whether my master was present or not. I touched the speakerphone button with the tip of my nose, and then barked twice, “Woof, woof—”
The owner laughed and asked on the other end of the phone, "Is this Xiao Zhao? Do you miss me?"
I still didn't speak, but barked twice more, then shook my neck affectionately, letting the sound of the copper bell hanging on my collar carry over.
The owner laughed and said, "Alright, alright, you're allowed to speak when you answer the phone. Say, do you miss me?" With
the owner's permission, I leaned on the phone and said, "I miss you so much. Master, when are you coming back?"
"Soon." The owner said, "I still have some work to do, I'll finish it soon. By the way, what do you want to eat? I'll bring it back to you when I go home at noon."
I wagged my tail and said, "I want to eat you, and I also want to eat KFC--"
(8)
After hanging up the phone, I licked my lips, then swayed my body, dragging the iron chains on my hands and feet, and slowly crawled back to the doghouse that the owner had prepared for me. As I crawled, the brass bells hanging from my collar and on my breasts jingled, both lewd and stimulating.
I swayed the dog tail inserted into my anus, and used my chained hands to caress my breasts. The sound of the chains and the bells aroused me. I longed for my master. I longed for his love, for his caresses, for his whipping my buttocks, for his penetration of my vagina. My
vagina was already wet, but without my master's permission, I could not masturbate; this was a rule he had set for me. Even when he was not around, I could not disobey, for I was a very obedient slave girl, a bitch, and I could never disobey my master's words. So
, I could only fantasize, fantasize about my master's warm penis slowly penetrating my vagina. And I could only reach my climax in my imagination—it was on that occasion, in my master's house, after he bound me, that he took my body for the first time, transforming me from a girl into a real woman. After a brief period of pain, the pleasure of sexual intercourse flooded every cell of my body. It was a completely new feeling, like thunder and lightning, like ocean waves, taking me to a new realm of existence.
Later, I learned that it was also my master's first time; like me, he had also released his virginity that night. Looking at the deep red stains on the sheets, tears streamed down my face, tears tinged with sadness, but mostly with relief.
Seeing my tears, my master, somewhat flustered, tried to untie my bound hands. I refused his kindness, holding my bound hands to my chest as if holding my fate in my own hands. I buried my head deeply in my master's embrace and whispered, "From today onwards, I am yours. You won't abandon me, will you?"
"How could that be?" my master said. "I will love you forever, for all eternity, never to be separated—"
Hearing my master's words, my heart was filled with happiness. I squinted my eyes, pressed my face against my master's chest, and could hear his heartbeat and feel his warmth. I knew in my heart that from now on, I belonged to someone, like a drifting boat being tied to a peaceful harbor by a rope.
After a moment, the master said, "Untie the ropes binding your hands. From now on, I will never tie you up again. I will serve you like a princess—"
I shook my head, still burying my face against the master's chest, and said, "No, I want you to tie me up, for all eternity, forever bound to you."
The master smiled, somewhat doubtfully, and said, "Do you really want that?"
I nodded solemnly and said, "Yes, when you tie me up, I feel a sense of belonging. I know I belong to you, I am your private property. When you tie me up, all my self-respect and pride disappear; I am merely your appendage."
The master hugged me even tighter. I could feel his penis becoming thicker and harder, warm and comforting against my skin. I knew that the master loved me even more now. This love was a love that transcended ordinary people; it was a sublimation, a state of being.
My master's hands caressed my skin, caressed my naked body, and I felt the moisture of the rain. My master brought his mouth close to my ear and asked, "Zhao, will you listen to me?"
I nodded and said, "Yes, I will always listen."
"Alright," my master said, "Kneel before me, okay?"
I quickly got up from my master's body and knelt respectfully before him, using my bound hands to support myself on the ground. That scene is unforgettable.
The master placed his hand on my head, his solemn manner like a ritual. Then, the master said, "Call me 'master,' okay?"
I hesitated for a moment, but finally said, "Master."
The master continued, "Are you willing to be my woman, my slave, or even my bitch?"
This time, I didn't hesitate and said, "I am willing."
The master continued to ask, "Are you willing to be bound, restrained, and imprisoned by the master with ropes and chains?"
Hearing words like "ropes, chains, binding, restraint, and imprisonment," my defenses completely collapsed. I hugged the master's legs with my bound hands, pressed my face against them, and murmured, "I am willing, I am willing, I am willing for the master to bind and imprison me forever, for all eternity, for all eternity—"
(9)
After that first time with the master, I began living with him. We rented a suite with a basement on the edge of the city as our home. To the world, we are a loving couple, just another ordinary pair among millions of lovers. But in our private world, when we are alone, I am my master's gentle slave, his obedient bitch.
More precisely, I am a slave to love, a slave to ropes and chains. In my master's love, I find fulfillment in life and sex; bound by ropes and chains, my deepest desires are fully sublimated. And my master, in my gentleness and obedience, finds his ideal, cherishing and loving me even more.
My master and I both have jobs, and while working, we think of each other. When we finish work and return to our love nest, I kneel before my master, begging for his caresses, begging him to bind me into his preferred positions. Sometimes I am clothed, but more often, I am naked, my white body exposed, watching my master use red, white, and black ropes to create beautiful patterns on my body.
My master was very skilled at binding me; each time he bound me tightly without making me feel suffocated or uncomfortable. With each binding, I experienced the feeling of being restrained and humiliated, the feeling I had fantasized about since childhood—a heroine, a female slave.
Not long after, it was my birthday. On my birthday, I received a gift from my master—a real dog collar and a heavy stainless steel chain hanging from it.
When I woke up in the morning, my master wrote "Happy Birthday, Little Bitch" on my bare chest with my lipstick. Then he took out a rope. I saw it and immediately asked, "Master, didn't you say you were going to take me out to buy a birthday present? Why, do you have to tie me up?"
My master laughed and said, "Of course, what if a slutty bitch like you runs away if you're not tied up?"
I lay on the bed and begged, "Can't I just not run away?"
My master pulled me to his side, kissed me first, then put the rope around my neck and asked, "Tell me, are you a slutty little bitch?" "Dog?"
My body went limp. Under the stimulation of my master's kisses and the rope, I dared not resist any longer and quickly answered, "Yes, I am a slutty little bitch, I am my master's slutty little bitch."
My master pinched my nose and asked, "Then shouldn't you, this slutty little bitch, be tied up so you don't run away?"
I twisted my head, pulling my nose away from my master's hand, and said, "Yes, please tie up this slutty little bitch, tie her up however you like."
My master laughed, kissed me again, and took the rope off my neck. First, he made me put on flesh-colored, open-crotch stockings. Then, he carefully tied the rope in his hand into a parallel figure "8" shape on my breasts, making my two dove-like breasts even firmer and more ready to fly. Then, my master told me to drag the rope tied to my breasts to the bathroom to get a sanitary napkin.
I handed the sanitary napkin to my master with a puzzled look. My master smiled mysteriously, put the sanitary napkin on my genitals, and then used the rope left over from binding my breasts to wrap around my waist, tie a knot, and then pass it down through my lower body. The excess rope was tied behind my back.
My face turned red with shame. Although my master had bound and played with me like this before, it was all in our own room, in our own world. Now, could I really go to a faraway place like this, and be normal and at ease in the bustling crowd without any abnormality? -- I began to doubt my abilities.
At this moment, my master had taken out a floral velvet cheongsam that I usually liked to wear from the wardrobe. I quickly stretched out my arms so that my master could put the cheongsam on my naked body that was bound with ropes. Then, my master took my white high-heeled leather shoes from the shoe rack and put them on my feet that were wearing stockings.
(10)
While I was still immersed in the situation of just getting to know my master, I heard the sound of the door opening. I looked up at the wall clock. I knew my master had returned; my master had brought me KFC.
I quickly jumped up from the mat, just like a female dog, and amidst the jingling of the chains on my hands and feet and the bells around my body, I crawled on all fours to the living room door, waiting for my master's arrival, waiting for my master's caresses—
The door opened, and my master's tall figure seemed so familiar to me. I couldn't forget my place, though I longed to embrace my master and express my love like a normal woman. But I was just a bitch, my master's bitch. I could only bark twice, then use my chained hands to hug my master's legs, pressing my face against them, letting my tears of longing flow freely.
My master put down what he was holding, knelt down, and held my head in his hands. He first licked away the tears streaming from my eyes, then slipped his tongue into my mouth and kissed me passionately. I responded passionately to my master's love; during the kiss, our tongues swirled intensely, and our hearts pounded wildly. A long
time passed like this, until my master and I calmed down, and then we reluctantly parted. My master asked me, "Zhao'er, did you miss your master?"
I remained kneeling before him. Hearing his question, I wagged my tail first, then barked twice in response.
"Your master missed you too, my little bitch—" My master chuckled, bent down, and patted my smooth, white rump as a reward.
Then, he took a stainless steel dog leash with padlocks at both ends from the cupboard behind the door. He locked one end of the leash to my collar and led me—a naked, obedient bitch adorned with chains and bells—to the dining room with a clattering sound.
Our dining room had a beautiful table and chairs, where we usually ate. But this time, my master led me, this beautiful bitch, to the coffee table and locked the leash to its leg. Because of the length of the leash, I was forced to kneel before the coffee table, with no freedom of movement.
After locking me up, my master left. Bored, I knelt there, fiddling with the chain that bound me, listening to the sounds of my master washing his hands and fiddling with things in the kitchen. To be honest, I wasn't a good slave girl. Spoiled since childhood, I was never as good as my master at handling food and drink.
Not long after, my master returned to the room, carrying some cups and plates and his favorite beer. I tilted my head back, wagged my tail, and barked twice, trying to please my master.
The owner smiled, put down the items he was carrying, sat down on the sofa, reached out and stroked my face and hair, praising me, "Good boy, my Zhao'er is so good." I stuck out my tongue and licked the hand that the owner was stroking me, just like a dog.
The owner placed a shallow plate on the floor, then took out the KFC he had bought for me, my favorite food, from the paper bag he had brought. It smelled so good! I sniffed greedily, barked twice, and then lay down on the floor, picked up a piece with my mouth, and slowly chewed it—
actually, it's not easy to eat with your mouth; if you're not careful, you can easily get food on your face, making your face oily and messy, like a smear. Hands are strictly forbidden to use, just as the master said, "When you are a bitch, your hands are not hands, but the forelimbs of a bitch; and the forelimbs of a bitch are only for crawling, not for use."
While I was eating, the master's hands were not idle. He leisurely drank beer while rubbing my firm breasts from time to time. When he rubbed, the copper bells hanging on the two nipples made a pleasant sound. And I, under the master's rubbing, was aroused, and my lower body became wet as if overflowing, and I swayed my body from time to time. So, amidst the sound of the iron chain and the copper bells, I also made lewd sounds of "ah, ah".
(11)
Perhaps my lewd expression and cries infected the master, and the master's hand slowly moved down and began to touch my smooth and wet vulva. I squinted my eyes and enjoyed it to the fullest. My hands, which were lying on the ground, could not support my swaying body. I instinctively withdrew my hands, lay prone on the ground, and raised my buttocks as high as possible to facilitate my master's manipulation.
My master's hands caressed and teased my genitals, and amidst waves of pleasure, I could feel his hands parting my labia and beginning to touch my clitoris. When my master's middle finger rubbed my clitoris, the waves of pleasure were like electric shocks, almost unbearable.
I struggled, trying to throw myself into my master's arms, but the dog leash attached to the collar around my neck was still locked to the leg of the coffee table. When I moved, the leash restricted my movement. Fortunately, my master understood what I meant. He stopped caressing my clitoris and untied the leash from the coffee table leg—
now I could lie across my master's lap, while he sat leisurely on the sofa, watching me use my teeth to pull down the zipper of his trousers. But I was powerless to do anything after that. I could only watch as my master's penis stood erect in his underwear.
My master smiled, a sly smile on his face, as if he wanted to see what I could do. I stuck out my tongue and carefully licked his penis a few times through his underwear. Then, I raised my face, wagging my tail and forcing an embarrassed smile, looking at my master pleadingly.
My master patted my smiling face and said, "No way, huh? Want to eat your master's sausage now?"
I lowered my head, a blush rising on my face, and barked twice.
With my master's help, I finally took his treasure into my mouth; it was thick and warm. And my master's hand moved back to my genitals, to my vulva, to my clitoris that brought me endless pleasure.
I was immersed in the pleasure my master gave me; it was the spring breeze of my life, the cornerstone that bound my master and me together. And amidst this endless pleasure, I couldn't forget my duty as a bitch, a slave; I too had to give my master even greater pleasure.
I gently sucked on my master's treasure, occasionally teasing his glans with my tongue. I could feel my master's excitement, for as I sucked on it, he let out soft moans. And his hand, reaching down to my smooth genitals, moved faster, rubbing my clitoris vigorously.
That kind of pleasure was indescribable. I could only sway helplessly under my master's caresses, causing the bells on my collar and breasts, and the chains connecting my handcuffs and shackles, to make a pleasant sound. It was like beautiful music, accompaniing my master's intercourse.
And that sound was what my master loved. I could feel his treasure growing thicker and larger, and I could feel the powerful force of his semen about to gush out. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, burying my head to allow my master's treasure to penetrate deeper into my throat—
like a burst dam, like a torrent of sweet water, my master's semen gushed into the depths of my throat. Just as I felt myself suffocating, my master's treasure pulled out slightly, giving me a chance to catch my breath. However, the remaining semen remained in my mouth.
When my master withdrew his treasure from my mouth, I collapsed to the ground like a dead dog, gasping for breath, completely devoid of any ladylike composure. My master, meanwhile, knelt down tenderly, affectionately caressing my face, caressing my body, caressing the woman who offered no resistance under his love. After
catching my breath for a long time, when I had regained some strength, I struggled to lift myself up and bring my head close to my master's crotch. I know my identity. I am a bitch, I am a slave, I am my master's bitch and slave. I must serve my master and clean my master's treasure with my mouth.
However, my master stopped me. I saw that there wasn't much semen left on my master's treasure. My master patted my buttocks, which still had the dog tail stuck in it, and stood up while praising me, saying, "My Zhao'er is becoming more and more adorable and cute--"
Hearing my master's praise, I also felt embarrassed. I buried my face in the ground, shaking the tail stuck in my back and the copper bell on my breast, like a shy girl or a female dog, without saying a word.
After a while, my master brought over a cup of water. This time, my master did not pour the water into the plate on the ground and let me lick it like a dog. Instead, he held me affectionately in his arms and fed me mouthful of water, which still had the master's semen left in it, to clean my mouth--
At that moment, tears of happiness flowed from my eyes.
(12)
Noon time is short after all. When my master went out to work again, I could only continue to crawl on the ground he had prepared for me, like a lonely dog, playing with the chains or bells on my body, reminiscing and cherishing the days I spent with him...
When
my master and I walked on the street, I felt extremely uncomfortable and a little afraid. I was terrified that others would see through my body and know that lewd ropes bound my pure white skin. Because I wasn't wearing underwear, I could feel a chill in my genitals; because the lewd ropes passed through that delicate place, my gait became slightly unnatural.
Most of the time, I would lean against my master's body and walk slowly, like a sick person. My master would hold me lovingly, holding his beloved, a scene that was absolutely the epitome of the best man in the world. However, I could see a smug smile on my master's face from time to time, and I could also feel his hands stroking my back from time to time, sensing the presence of the ropes on my body through the clothes.
Although I felt a little nervous and uncomfortable, I was also incredibly excited and thrilled. I knew it was my lewd and masochistic instinct.
When my owner and I arrived at the city's largest pet market, I naively thought my owner was going to buy me a kitten or a puppy as a birthday present. It wasn't until we passed the stalls selling kittens and puppies and arrived at the pet supplies section, staring at the leather collars and iron chains, and I thought of the words "Happy Birthday, Little Bitch" written in lipstick on my naked body, that I finally understood.
My face flushed, and my heart pounded rapidly, as if a rabbit were trapped inside. I blindly followed my owner, watching her expertly select the collars. My eyes were fixed on those collars; I knew that one of them might one day grace my fair neck, becoming my ornament. Thinking of this, I felt a mix of apprehension and anticipation.
Just then, my owner handed me a collar he had chosen, a mischievous grin on his face, and asked, "Zhao, look at this collar. Does it fit my dog?"
I blushed and took the collar. I carefully examined and stroked the exquisite leather collar, my heart pounding. The collar was black, adjustable, and had many white studs riveted along the edges of the leather. I looked inside and found it was lined with a soft, plush material—so gentle and delicate.
"How is it? Are you satisfied, Zhao?" my owner continued.
I nodded, remaining silent, still clutching the collar tightly in my hand.
"Alright, this is it," the owner said to the shopkeeper. "By the way, could you also get me a chain to keep my dog from running around?"
The shopkeeper, busy with his work, asked my owner, "Is your dog a big dog or a small dog?" My
owner laughed and said, "Of course it's a big dog, it weighs almost a hundred pounds. By the way—" He pointed at me and said, "It weighs about the same as her."
My face turned completely red, and I held the collar in my hand, overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Fortunately, the shopkeeper didn't take it seriously. Seeing my shy expression, he said to my owner, "Haha, you're really joking, boss. How can you compare a person to a dog? By the way, a big dog needs a thicker chain, otherwise it won't be able to be kept in check." Saying this, he took out a two-meter-long iron chain and placed it on the counter.
The owner stretched out his hands and weighed the iron chain in his hands. The iron chain made a "clattering" sound on the counter. I couldn't help but stretch out my hand as well, touching the cold, white-lustered metal as if it were a treasure, touching the iron chain that would be locked around my neck in the future, touching the one I would always love deep in my consciousness.
The owner knew my heart. The owner also saw my love. He covered my hand that was stroking the iron chain with his large palm and squeezed it hard, as if to encourage me, to praise me, or to agree with my love.
This time, the owner did not tease me about my shyness. He paid quickly, picked out a few padlocks and other items, and then hugged me and left the pet product store.
(13)
Next to the pet market was an elegant park. It was close to a small hill with very lush trees. Some pavilions and towers were dotted in the green world.
My master and I walked along the shaded mountain path, nestled together like countless other lovers. The only difference was that behind my tight-fitting cheongsam lay ropes binding my body. Moreover, in my hand, a paper bag contained the collar I would wear, while in my master's bag lay a cold iron chain.
Thinking of this, a wave of pleasure surged through my wanton lower body—a kind of anticipation, an anticipation of obedience and love for my master. I imagined the newly bought collar on my fair, delicate neck, the heavy iron chain fastened to it. I lay beside my master, his hand holding the chain of my collar, like leading a real dog.
In a secluded spot, my master and I sat down. The mountain wind blew gently, and fallen leaves swirled and drifted down, creating a picturesque scene around us. My master made me kneel before him, took the collar from my hands, and held it to my lips, telling me to kiss it—to kiss the collar that would soon be around my neck.
He asked, "Do you like it?"
I blushed and nodded, lowering my head, but my eyes were fixed on the collar.
He asked again, "Do you like being my bitch?"
My face turned even redder, but the anticipation inside me filled me with excitement. I placed my hands on the ground, crawling before my master like a dog. I murmured, "Yes. Please…please, master, put the collar on your slave—"
His hand stroked my face, tenderly and affectionately. Then, he parted my loose hair and placed the leather collar around my neck. At that moment, when the leather collar touched my skin, my heart pounded violently, as if that moment were a watershed moment in my life—just like the first time my master bound me with ropes. My
careful master tested the tightness of the collar with his fingers before gently fastening it. I could no longer contain my excitement. I buried my face in my master's arms, hugging him tightly—the master who held the reins of my destiny.
My master sat there, pushed me away, and looked at me very seriously, saying, "To be a bitch, you must be more loyal to your master than a slave, do you understand?"
Seeing my master's serious expression, I couldn't help but want to laugh, but the collar around my neck, symbolizing a female dog, reminded me. I timidly replied, "I know."
My master said again, "Now say: I am a female dog."
I opened my mouth, saying with some difficulty, "I...I am a female dog, my master's female dog."
My master smiled and pulled me into his arms. At that moment, kneeling before my master, I didn't feel any embarrassment or discomfort; I only felt happiness. My master kissed me passionately, and my tongue danced happily in his mouth, like two loving fish intertwined.
After the passionate kiss, my master rested his head on my forehead, looking deeply into my eyes, murmuring, "Zhao, I love you."
I closed my eyes, and I could feel my tears of happiness flowing down my face. Faced with my master's loving words, I could only rejoice that I had met him in my life; it was my happiness. I shook my head and said to my master, "Master, I love you too, forever—"
My master picked up the chain lying beside him and asked, "Shall I put on the chain?"
My face flushed, and I nodded shyly.
"Aren't you afraid someone will see?"
I looked around; there was only dense forest, quiet and without a sound. "No," I said firmly.
My master stood up, looked around as well, and then carefully put the chain on the collar around my neck and locked it securely. As my master did this, I raised my neck to make it easier for him to move; my docility was that of an obedient female dog. The slight clinking
of the chain was, to me, the best music. When my master locked the chain, I could feel its weight, and my neck, which had been raised, was pulled down by its weight. Thinking about the conversation between my master and the shopkeeper when I bought the collar and chain, my face, which was already flushed with embarrassment, became even hotter.
(14)
My master took the dangling chain into his hand and gently stroked my hair with his other hand, asking me with concern, "Are you not uncomfortable?"
I shook my head and said, "No." As I shook my head, the chain connecting to the collar rattled.
My master asked again, "What does it feel like to be a female dog?"
I thought for a moment and said, "Humiliation, and obedience--"
My master smiled, and the hand that had been stroking my hair slid to my face, gently caressing it, and asked, "Do you like it?"
I opened my mouth, put my master's finger in my mouth, and nodded.
My master said, "Can you crawl on the ground like a dog?"
I nodded, blushing and not speaking.
The grass in the mountains was soft and pleasant, and there was also the fragrance of pine in the air. My master, pulling on the chain, turned to look at me crawling on the ground like a dog. As I stretched out my arms to crawl forward, the hem of my cheongsam dragged on the ground, hindering my movement. I raised my head, grinned foolishly at my master, and said, "I can't crawl—"
My master laughed and said, "You should wear jeans, that would be fine." After thinking for a moment, my master had another idea. He reached out, lifted the hem of my cheongsam, and placed it near my mouth, saying, "Bite it with your mouth, little bitch—"
This time I had no words, and could only obediently bite the cheongsam with my mouth, slowly crawling under my master's guidance. As I crawled, the back of the cheongsam slowly fell down, revealing my bare buttocks and the ropes binding me; the sight must have been incredibly lewd.
My master would also occasionally walk behind me and gently pat my snow-white buttocks with his hand. I could only silently endure it. Now I truly understand that when a person kneels, their dignity vanishes, and the servility hidden within their body is fully revealed.
Although my master's pats were gentle, after a few repetitions, my buttocks still felt slightly sore and warm. The feeling of crawling on the ground, combined with the pain in my buttocks, made my blood rush. I didn't know if I was truly being shameless, if I truly had no sense of shame. But I did know that I liked it, and my master liked it too.
... ...
The afternoon was long, but thankfully I could reminisce about the past, cherishing the memories of my master and my love. Thinking back to that time on the mountain when my master first put a collar on me, and then looking at my current attire, I couldn't help but smile. From the rope bindings to the collars, the leash, and now this outfit, I have obediently accepted every idea my master came up with. I really can't be sure what new ideas my master will come up with tomorrow.
I glanced at the clock on the wall; there wasn't much time left before my master returned. Although my master would bring dinner back from outside, not having soup was still a problem. I looked at the kitchen, really wanting to make a delicious soup for my master so he could have a happy dinner.
But thinking of my master's orders, I hesitated. My master meant that I should be in a female dog's state 24 hours a day, and this state wasn't just a formality, but also a mental one. Besides crawling on the ground, I could only lie on the ground like a real dog. And in that posture, I couldn't possibly do housework or cook. At the very least, I couldn't reach the sink or the stove—
I hesitated, but my love for my master wouldn't let me. Sigh, it's already like this, let my master punish me however he wants, I don't care anymore. With that thought, I dragged my shackles and slowly crawled towards the kitchen. Reaching the edge of the sink, I stood up, stretched my body after crawling all day, and then turned on the tap and washed my hands.
The refrigerator was fully stocked; perhaps this is one of the advantages of modern life. Fortunately, having done chores many times before while shackled and handcuffed, this simple bowl of hot soup was a piece of cake, and I even felt a sense of happiness while doing it. Because I wasn't just my master's slave or bitch; when needed, I was also his woman.
Amidst the clinking of my shackles, I practiced the symphony of pots and pans in the kitchen. Fortunately, it wasn't anything tedious, and the modern equipment in the kitchen spared me the pain of oil fumes and flames. In no time, a steaming pot of egg drop soup was ready.
How fragrant! I sniffed and smiled contentedly. After turning off the stove, I reverted to my role as a slave bitch, crawling on the floor and slowly returning to the study where my master had told me to stay.

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