First night as a dog

Eric had told me to wait in the large wood-paneled room. I shivered when he opened the door. He had put on a German police officer's uniform complete with boots and breeches. Blue shirt, leather tie. Cap. But the most troublesome was what he was holding in his gloved hand: a long looped leather whip.

I could barely see the gray-blue light in his eyes under the dark visor of his cap, but his tight lips, his upturned chin expressed both determination and arrogance: "drop trou!"

I was standing face to him, bare chest, wearing the leather pants he had lent me that morning. I had the urge to stand up to him. I wouldn't move. I wouldn't even smile.

Suddenly, he uncurled his whip, stepped back, took a runner's stance. The strap flew whistling through the air, curled around me, slashed at my torso. So I took my pants off in front of him. He had raised his forehead a bit, and I could feel him staring at me. I could see his lower lip turn into a snarl.

"On all fours, dog!"

He had cracked his whip right before saying "dog."

I got down on all fours at once. That was it; I was going to be Eric's dog, Lord Eric's dog. There were butterflies in my stomach.

Eric walked to a small table where he laid his whip. There was on the table a pair of white gauntlet gloves. He put them on instead of his black ones. He picked the whip up.

"You're going to walk on all fours across the living-room."

He had been talking with his head looking down at the whip he was about to crack. I had gone but three feet before the strap bit my back. I screamed. I looked up at Eric. He was turned sideways, his head again looking down at his whip. He wasn't looking at me. He spoke quietly, without raising his voice: "A dog does not walk like a slug, Jacob. A dog runs. I'm going to teach you to run around your master."

He straightened up, curled the whip, made his way slowly to the center of the room, uncurled the strap once more, made it fly up to the ceiling and began to crack it like a tamer.

"Come on, dog. Run around your master!"

I scrambled on my hands and knees, I ran out of breath, but my cock was hard. As I ran on all fours, I kept my eyes on my Master, on his boot shafts, on the flare of his jodhpurs. Just watching the superb motion of his hips when he wiggled the black snake aimed at tearing my guts, made me forget its bite when I weakened. On the third round, Eric stopped whipping me. He was happy with just cracking his whip with majesty and haughtiness.

"Good, dog. Stay."

Eric went to sit in the armchair, took one of his white gloves off and threw it at me.

"Pick this glove up with your muzzle, carefully, and go put it on the table."

I obeyed; I picked the glove with my teeth without biting; I made my way on all fours to the table; I set my chin on it and dropped the glove, then turned towards my master, the contented look of an obedient puppy etched on my face. My master threw the other glove at me, and I repeated the action.

"Bring the black gloves over, dog. Get!"

I walked on my hands and knees towards my master's boots, both gloves in my muzzle. Eric took them and flipped them on my cheek.

"Good boy, Jacob. We'll make a good dog out of you yet. Kiss my boots."

I excitedly kissed his boots on the instep.

"Get back up. Beg."

I straightened up, folded my front paws instinctively, let my tongue loll out.

Eric rubbed the nape of my neck with a look of superiority.

"Mmmmmh! Looks like you're a natural. I'm rather happy with you. I think you'll do for now. Lay down at my feet."

I lay down at Eric's boots as he stood up. A leather jacket had been left on one of the chair's arms. He put it on, buckled a garrison belt over it, slipped the black gloves on, picked up his whip.

"You're going to turn a bit more around me. It wasn't too bad earlier, but I want you to turn me on more, to act like a bitch in heat. I want more than a dog, Jacob. I want a bitch at my boots. You're gonna be my bitch, right?"

Eric's voice had become softer and lower. I answered, lost in thought, "yes, Master Eric. I will be your bitch!"

"Good. Get back on all fours and run around your master, bitch!"

Saying this, Eric cracked the bullwhip even louder than earlier. I jumped into action. The strap cut through my ass.

"Ass up, bitch!"

I was trying to do my best to obey him. It wasn't enough. The whip kept thrashing.

"Move your ass."

The room was filled with cracks. Several times, the whip hit its mark. I was whimpering as I ran in circles on all fours, trying to move my hips.

"Wiggle your ass!"

I managed to wiggle my ass in a circle.

"Yeaaaah! More!"

I no longer felt his hits. I was in a frenzy. I wiggled my ass with all my strength, running out of breath.

"Bark like a bitch in heat! Bark, bastard!"

I squealed and barked like a female in between screams caused by the whip. Eric yelled as he cracked the leather strap. His exhilaration made me tremble with pleasure. I hardly felt the hits. I only felt like the bitch of a young booted lord, leather bound and turned on as he trained me with his whip.

Suddenly, Eric ordered: "Down, bitch! Lick my boots!"

I came to crash near Eric's boots in exhaustion. It was a rest for me to stretch my tongue out on the soft instep and slide it around. I had not licked Eric's boots yet. I wanted to slowly enjoy this pleasure, but I was suddenly pulled up by my ear. Eric lifted my head in anger.

"Bitch, is that how you dare lick my boots? I'm gonna teach you how a bitch licks her master's boots. I'm gonna teach you. Stay on your knees, hands behind your back, and wait for me."

Eric stepped out. When he returned, he had one hand in his back.

"Pull out your tongue."

I pulled out my tongue, somewhat worried. I pulled it at once by reflex when I saw the metal clamp open in front of me.

"Stretch out your tongue or I'm gonna make you dance all night with my whip."

The clamp crushed my tongue and engulfed me with a throbbing pain, but bearable all the same. The clamp was attached to a small chain. Eric pulled on it.

"Move on your knees."

I approached on my knees. Eric walked back pulling on my chain. He was watching my every move, and I could see his crotch had swollen noticeably. Just seeing me as his pitiful slave, pulled on a leash by his tongue, had turned him on even more. I, too, was turned on, and my cock was standing as hard as ever.

Eric tied the end of the chain to one of the table feet. The chain was taut. He ordered me not to move, to keep my chest straight and my tongue fully extended. He walked back to the door. His right hand held the whip handle forward, his other hand held the cracker back.

"You're going to beg my for my forgiveness for not having licked my boots as a good bitch should."

I quickly uttered in one breath, "fo'giv' me fo' no' having lick' yo' boo' as a goo' bitch, Mast-uh E-hic!"

Eric dropped the strap, turned his waist and opened his arm out. The leather cord flew, curled roughly around my torso. My scream was feral, my tongue still out.

"I can't understand you, bitch. Ar-tic-u-late!"

The strap was had coiled back, sliding along my skin. It came back all the stronger.

"Louder, bitch!"

"FORGIVE ME FOR NOT HAVING LICKED YOUR BOOTS AS A GOOD BITCH, MASTER ERIC!"

My master's voice took on a mocking sweetness: "That's much better. Much better!"

He had gotten closer to me and freed my tongue. He pressed his gloved hand on the back of my neck and pushed my head down to the foot of his boot.

"Now you're going to show me how a good bitch licks her master's boot. Right? You're gonna show me good?"

I pressed my tongue on the foot of the boot. The whip cracked in the air. "Harder, I can't feel your tongue!"

I pressed, I crushed my tongue as though I wanted to burrow it into the smooth leather wrap. I slid it down to his heel and around to his toe.

"Yes, that is much better, little slave! But I want to hear you drool."

I drooled and hissed; I blew as I crushed my tongue on the foot of my master's boot. I climbed up the shaft; I tried to look up there, underneath the visor of his cap, at his eyes as they looked down at my neck. My hard on was unbearable.

"Purr, bitch! Purr!"

I purred in pleasure, I licked in broad strokes. I drooled and hissed. The whip cracked again. My master's voice turned raspy: "Wiggle your ass, my bitch!"

I swiveled my hips, I moved my ass all over the place; I kept licking, drooling, hissing, purring. The strap hit the middle of my back.

"Wiggle that ass some more, bitch! Turn me on with that bitch ass of yours!"

I gyrated my ass, lowering my torso, twisting my hips, untwisting my hips. My master groaned in pleasure but still, he kept cracking his whip; I wasn't hissing loud enough, I wasn't licking hard enough. Finally, he seemed really happy: "Yeah, that's good. Yeah! Tomorrow I'm gonna be able to show a good bitch to my buddy Lothar. Gonna be like that with him. . . Open your ass when you wiggle it. Open it good! Mmmhh! I think I'm gonna take care of your ass tomorrow with my Billy club once Lothar is through making you slave around with his whip."