Beastiality 07 – A Trip to the Vet’s Office, Part 2

Soon after we arrived home (see: “A Trip to the Vet’s Office”) I got my next surprise.

I had removed my clothing leaving only my collar on, and was in the kitchen doing my chores, when I heard the doorbell. Strangely, Mistress did not command me to answer it, calling out to me, “I will get it, pet.”

I heard only a muffled conversation from our front room. After a few minutes, Mistress entered the kitchen carrying a leash. “Get down on your knees, pet. I want you crawling when you meet our visitor. I have engaged the services of a dog trainer to work with you.”

I was shocked speechless.

As I got down onto my hands and knees, Mistress clipped the lead of the leash to my collar. Giving the leash a slight tug, she said, “Come girl. Come and meet Miss Allen.” I obeyed, of course, but with some trepidation, my heart hammering in my chest. Crawling like a dog, I trailed behind Mistress, peeking meekly between her legs to both hide from and yet get a glimpse of this stranger I was to meet.

What I saw did not reassure me in the least. Miss Allen was a tall imposing figure, dressed in clingy black leather. Something in her body language, her sheer emanation of confidence, of dominance, frightened me. Her eyes raked over my body. I imagined that I saw stark disapproval in them. In that moment I found that I could not control my bladder. To my dismay,warm piss hissed down my thigh to piddle beneath me.

“Your bitch is not housebroken yet, I see,” intoned Miss Allen in a quiet voice.

I was mortified.

“Should I rub her nose in it? Swat her with a rolled up newspaper? Tell her what a bad girl she is?” Mistress inquired. It sounded to me that she asked these questions somewhat eagerly.

“You can, of course – but I would not recommend it. Those approaches are quite old school. As the owner, it is your job to clean up after your bitch. Get a rag, sop up the urine, and then rub it outside where you want her to normally go.”

I expected that Mistress would order me to clean up after myself. I went wide-eyed with astonishment to see her obey Miss Allen without a murmur of protest. Handing my leash over to the trainer, she marched to the kitchen in search of a rag.

Miss Allen gave the leash a slight tug and snapped her fingers down by the side of her thigh. I understood the signal, and crawled closer to her, away from the pool of piss. As I drew near her, she formed her hand into a fist, quietly commanding, “Sit”. Seeing the fist, I flinched and moved back slightly. “No,” she stated in that same quiet, calm voice. She repeated the word “Sit” making the hand gesture of a closed fist again. Since she had not struck me with the fist, this time I did not flinch or move away. I cautiously lowered my buttocks to the floor. “Yes,” she intoned with that steady voice of hers. A tiny bit of my fear melted.

Unhooking the leash, Miss Allen made a sort of soothing, clucking sound in her throat as she leaned over to position my body to her satisfaction. She pulled my knees farther apart from each other, and gently pressed my hands back farther under my torso just inside of my knees. When she finished, I was sitting on my haunches, with my back straight. My breasts were thrust out between the vertical pillars formed by my arms. I was certain that this open kneed stance also exposed my vulva to anyone standing in front of me.

“Good,” she commended, and held a small piece of cookie in front of my lips. Hesitantly, carefully I maneuvered my lips to pull it from between her fingers. I was being rewarded for good behavior!

Mistress reentered the room, carrying a rag. I turned my head to look at her. Miss Allen almost whispered ,”Sit. Watch me.” As I swiveled my head back in her direction, I again saw her making the sign of a closed fist. Off to the side, I could hear Mistress swiping the rag through the pool of urine. I was so incredulous that she was doing this that I again looked in her direction. Miss Allen made a guttural disquieting sound of disapproval in her throat and repeated, “Watch me.” Frightened as I was, that sound she made shook me to my core. Trembling slightly, I quickly looked back into her face. “Yessss,” she uttered, reinforcing my behavior.

There was a small rooftop garden adjacent to our dining area. Heading there, Mistress went through the edge of my field of vision, holding the urine soaked rag by two hesitant fingers as she carried it from the room. I tried to keep my focus on Miss Allen, but as time dragged on, my eyes started going to the doorway where Mistress had disappeared.

Miss Allen leaned over and tapped my neck to correct me. “Watch me,” she restated. As we waited, if my posture shifted or slumped in the slightest, she was quick to reposition me.

I heard the sound of running water from our kitchen, and assumed that Mistress was washing any remaining urine from her hands. Soon she stood next to Miss Allen.

“Have you docked her tail?” she asked Mistress. “I don’t see one.”

“I’m afraid I never thought of giving her a tail,” Mistress replied with an amused voice. “It would probably look very good on her. Where would I get one?”

“I brought one along in my bag, just in case,” Miss Allen answered with a slight chuckle in her voice. She reached into her bag and produced a butt plug, complete with a lifelike dog tail hanging from it. Looking down at me, she extended a flat hand, palm up, and raised it slightly saying, “Stand.”

A little confused, I began getting up onto my feet. Miss Allen stopped me cold by saying, “No.” Forming her hand into a fist, she whispered, “Sit.” Mistress watched carefully as I immediately dropped to my haunches and tried to get into my proper position. Miss Allen again adjusted my knee and arm placement to meet her requirements. Kneeling near my left side, she moved her left hand, palm up, in front of my face. Repeating, “Stand” she again raised her palm slightly. At the same time, she moved her right hand to my lower belly almost on my mound and gave me a slight lift in that region.

Acutely aware of how close her hand was to my sex, I nonetheless got the message to raise my hips up, getting onto my hands and knees. “Yessss,” Miss Allen stated, confirming that I had acted properly.

Absorbing what she was witnessing, Mistress inquired, “Should I be making hand gestures as you are doing?”

“Yes. You will find that your bitch focuses quite a bit on your body language. You need to keep your verbal commands to a minimum, and use a confident, assertive, firm but quiet tone of voice. After all, you are the pack leader, and she needs to understand that.”

Spitting on the butt plug, she smeared her saliva all over it. Placing its tip at my puckered anal opening, she grasped my mound to hold my position steady as she deftly inserted the plug deep into my ass hole. I whimpered as I felt it stretch and fill me. She made soothing shushing sounds to quiet me. “That’s a good bitch,” she praised me.

“Lovely,” Mistress commented, examining the results. I knelt there, blushing hotly, imagining what I must look like now. “Sit,” she commanded loudly, awkwardly shaking her fist at me. Startled, I crawled back a few inches.

“No, dear,” Miss Allen corrected her. “Less volume. Also, you merely close your hand into a fist as a signal. You do not threaten her with it.” I realized that this dog trainer was in actuality training both of us.

Mistress tried again. She closed her hand into a fist in front of her belly, and said quietly, “Sit.” I dropped into a close approximation of the correct posture, slightly surprised when the butt plug was driven more firmly into my ass by its contact with the floor.

Miss Allen showed Mistress how to fix my posture with gentle corrective pushes. “You must make these adjustments very carefully during the training. Soon the positions will be ingrained into her muscle memory. From that point on, her perfect compliance will become automatic.”

Stepping in front of me, Miss Allen pointed one finger at the floor and uttered, “Down.”

I looked at her quizzically. I was, after all, sitting down on the floor. I tried bending my elbows out to the side, so I could lower my shoulders.

Miss Allen shook her head slightly, and knelt down before me. Repeating the command, “Down,” and pointing downward with a finger, she reached out and grasped my wrists pulling them towards her. Ultimately, as she made further corrections, I ended up with my arms stretched out before me, my breasts pressed against the floor, and my thighs splayed out sideways so much that my mound also touched the floor. I felt very submissive like this – tilting my head up I could barely see up to the knees of someone standing before me. My limbs were aching from this unfamiliar positioning. When a hand came into view and slowly closed into a fist, I rose up to a fairly perfect sitting position almost without thinking.

“Yessss. See what a good little bitch she is turning out to be?” Miss Allen said.

“Amazing. You really have a gift of working with pets,” Mistress complemented her. “Have you encountered any difficult cases?”

“Rarely,” she replied. “But when I do, I find that if I use this, they quickly learn to settle down and obey.” Saying this, she reached into her bag and pulled out a circlet of metal links, each link having a tine ending in a knob pointing inward from it. “This is called a pinch collar. It does not harm the animal, but it quickly gets its attention.”

I shuddered visibly, imagining such a thing around my neck, digging into my sensitive flesh if I committed any misdeed. I resolved to be a very good bitch indeed. Without forethought, I raised myself onto my hands and knees and began pleading loudly with both Mistress and Miss Allen. “Please don’t! Please! I’ll be good. I promise!” I was begging so earnestly that I did not hear a command issued by Mistress. Miss Allen, noticing this, quickly pulled a squirt bottle from her bag and squirted me full in the face.

Startled, my tirade was broken. Miss Allen quietly said, “Sit,” and closed her fist. My body reacted, dropping me onto my haunches, knees apart, my spine and arms straight. “Yessss,” she stated approvingly. Turning to Mistress she explained, “With an outburst of barking like that, first you break the bitch’s concentration with the squirt bottle. Then you put it into some correct behavior, such as a sit. If you don’t tell it what you want it to do, it won’t know what to do except go back to barking again.”

“That was remarkable,” Mistress mused. “I may have to get a belt holster for a squirt bottle,” she said with a smile. “I was tempted to slap her, or clamp her mouth shut when she started doing that.”

“That is not a good idea,” Miss Allen explained. “That actually breaks the bond you are trying to establish as pack leader. Never raise your voice to the bitch, nor strike her. Also, use the word ‘no’ very sparingly – if it is used too often she may come to ignore it. Instead, sculpt her behavior by reinforcing her good actions. Simply saying ‘Yessss’ when she obeys correctly is a good positive reinforcement. Some people prefer to use a small hand clicker, clicking it when their pet does the right thing. When your bitch is especially good, you can feed her a treat.”

“A clicker,” Mistress considered. “I am imagining walking her in public, clicking at her every time she does something good. How delicious that would be,” she said with a grin.

I felt the heat spread from my cheeks to my neck, thinking about being on public display as a bitch.

“Yes, we need to work on having her walk in heel position by your side. But there are a few more commands we should cover first.” Saying this, she turned me to face the length of the room, keeping me in my sit position. Showing me her open palm, fingers pointing up, she intoned , “Stay.”

She gestured to Mistress to accompany her across the room. I felt my shoulders jerk slightly as I almost instinctively started to follow them. I caught myself in time and remained where I was.

Turning to look at me, and command my attention, Miss Allen stood motionless for quite some time. Finally, she raised her open hand with the back of it facing me. She pulled that open hand toward herself and at the same time quietly spoke, “Come.”

Smiling happily, I crawled toward her, feeling the hairs of the tail brushing the back of my thighs as I moved. In the back of my mind, I knew I looked a bit silly – naked and crawling around like a dog. But there was something about Miss Allen. Something mesmerizing. Maybe it was some pheromone she emits. Maybe the quality of her voice, or her body language. I just knew I wanted to please her as best I could. If she had told me to roll onto my back, arms and legs in the air, so she could rub my tummy, I would have complied immediately, I think. When I reached her, she said, “Yessss. Sit.”

As I dropped onto my haunches, she added, “Good bitch. That’s a good girl. Here,” and again pressed a piece of cookie to my lips. I knew Mistress was observing this interaction, learning along with me.

“Does your bitch have any toys?” Miss Allen asked.

“Toys. Toys. Let me think,” Mistress responded. “Oh,” she said, leaving the room. She returned with a small rubberized cylindrical vibrator. “Will this do?”

“That’s perfect,” Miss Allen chuckled. Taking it from Mistress, she knelt and rolled it across the floor saying, “Fetch,” and looked over to where I was sitting. I looked at her questioningly. She couldn’t mean… I could not believe that she would want me to… it seemed so ludicrous.

Miss Allen made that same guttural disquieting sound of disapproval in her throat, as her face displayed a look of disappointment. Hearing that sound, I flinched. Miss Allen went to the spot where the toy had come to rest. Locking eyes with me, she again rolled it saying, “Fetch.”

Reluctantly playing along, I crawled over to the vibrator and reached out to grasp it. Miss Allen uttered the disapproval sound and spoke a clear word, “No,” which froze me where I knelt. I got the message. Awash with humiliation I lowered my head and took the vibrator in my mouth. Since I had to clean the floors every day, it was thankfully free of dust and dirt. The taste and smell of rubber flooded my mouth and nose. I had reached a depth of submission that surprised me.

Down on one knee, facing me, Miss Allen gave the hand sign for ‘come’ and waited. Acutely aware of Mistress heeding my every movement, I felt a mild form of shame as I crawled over to Miss Allen clenching the rubber cylinder in my teeth like an obedient little doggie. I got within perhaps a foot of her and paused, searching her face for some cue. Smiling, she whispered, “Drop it, and fanned the fingers of her hand wide open. Gratefully, I open my jaw and let the rubber tube fall to the floor, where it bounced once and settled.

“Good. Good little bitch,” Miss Allen practically crooned. She stroked her hand through my hair as she said this, and without thinking my body leaned into her touch. As she continued stroking me, she brought her face very close to mine. My heart was thumping hard in my chest, reacting to her praise and touch. I have no idea where the impulse came from, but I found myself suddenly licking her lips. Mistress gasped audibly when she witnessed this. Instead of berating me, Miss Allen slowly pulled her face back and turned to address Mistress. “Don’t worry. That was perfectly normal behavior. If a bitch licks your lips, it’s a sign of her submission. When she does this to you, accept it gracefully, realizing what it means.”

Miss Allen stopped petting me and said, “I think it’s time for our final lesson for today, which is how to get your bitch to heel as you take her for walks.” She took advantage of our proximity to clip the leash to my collar, and then stood up. Since it was obvious that I had no idea what I was supposed to do, Miss Allen walked around me until I was in the correct position relative to her. “As you can see,” she explained to Mistress, “you want your bitch to be on your left side, with her right shoulder near your left leg. Hold the leash loosely. The more you tighten the leash, the harder your pet will try to pull away.”

I admit that I was listening very carefully to this explanation, my head turned up to look into her face as she spoke. She looked down into my eyes, smiled approvingly, and said, “Heel” and began walking slowly. I began shuffling forward on my hands and knees trying to stay near her left leg. “Yessss,” she coached me. I was feeling so pleased with myself that I failed to notice when she came to an abrupt halt. I crawled forward a foot or so before two things occurred – her disapproval sound and the leash growing taut as I came to the end of the slack. A little shamefaced, I shuffled back near her left leg.

After a moment or two, she changed direction, whispering, “Heel,” and off we went again. As we approached a doorway, I assumed we were going to pass through it, so I kept going. Mistress saw Miss Allen just stop where she was and wait patiently for me to realize my error and creep back to her left leg. I learned rapidly that I should not assume anything as I was being led on a walk like this. We walked together through several rooms, Miss Allen praising me with “Yessss” to encourage me when I was focused on her and stayed with her, and correcting me with the disapproval sound when my attention wandered. Mistress also had her turn, walking me in heel position. Miss Allen spent most of this time correcting her behavior, rather than mine. My knees were getting rather sore since I was unused to this amount of crawling.

I was grateful when Mistress closed her fist and quietly uttered, “Sit.” Hot, sweaty and shaky, I lowered my buttocks, forming myself into the proper pose. I was a little surprised as the butt plug poked deeper into my ass as it made contact with the floor – I had forgotten that I was wearing it!

“I think you’d better get her some knee pads if you are going to walk her anymore than a short distance. I hope you noticed that she was starting to limp near the end,” Miss Allen cautioned Mistress.

“Yes, I did notice, and I’ll get her some pads quite soon. It was thrilling seeing her heel like that. I am happy that she is being so obedient now. Thank you for such an entertaining and informative lesson,” Mistress said, giving Miss Allen a warm hug.

“My pleasure,” she responded. “I hope that after you work with your bitch for a while, you will invite me over so I can judge her progress.”

“Certainly,” Mistress assured her. “Let’s make it soon, in case I misunderstood any part of your directions, because I don’t want either of us to get into a bad habit that we will have to unlearn.”

At this point, I realized that hours had passed without a bathroom break for me. My bladder was signaling a sense of urgency. “Mistress. May I please go use the toilet?” I asked her.

To my surprise, Miss Allen made her sound of disapproval. “Go to the garden door, and scratch it gently while whimpering, little bitch. This lets your Mistress know that you need to go out.”

I shot a disbelieving look at Mistress. But she was laughing and clapping her hands with mirth. I had the sinking realization that she fully agreed with this idea. My bladder signals were getting more and more insistent. I briefly considered pissing right where I knelt, because I remembered that Mistress would be forced to wipe it up. But I instinctively knew that Miss Allen would give me that look of disappointment that she did so well. And, curiously, I wanted desperately to be ‘accepted by my pack’ – the canine instincts were getting ingrained already. Clutching my thighs together, I scuttled over to the door, whining and scratching at its surface.

Mistress got into her role perfectly. “Oh, does my little pet need to go out?” she inquired with a grin. Opening the door for me, she continued, “There you go. That’s a good girl.”

I scampered out as fast as I could with my thighs rubbing together, heading for the corner where I saw the rag she had used to wipe up my earlier accident. I had no idea if anyone in any of the other apartment buildings around ours might be looking toward our garden, but clearly the chance existed that someone might be. But I had to piss badly. I looked back to the doorway as I lowered my hips, spreading my thighs wide apart. Mistress and Miss Allen were watching, fascinated expressions on their faces. Mortified, I began pissing like the little bitch I was, the hot jet of urine hissing from my pee hole onto the grass beneath me. I could not bear to look at any of the other apartment windows, fearing I might see faces peering back. My embarrassment was mixed with the blissful relief emanating from my now emptied bladder. I kept my head down as I crawled quickly to the door leading back inside.

Once I was safely back inside, Mistress pointed a finger downward, reinforcing it with a firm, but low volume command, saying, “Down.” This was followed by “Stay” and the open palm signal, as she and Miss Allen began walking to the front door.

“Very well done,” Miss Allen stated. “I think you definitely have the basics.”

I was resting, almost dozing in my ‘down’ pose, so I may have misheard what Mistress said just as Miss Allen was leaving. Did she really ask something with regard to ‘breeding her bitch’?

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2 thoughts on “Beastiality 07 – A Trip to the Vet’s Office, Part 2

  1. Pingback: Beginnings | TheEnigmaBlog

  2. Pingback: Beginnings – TheEnigmaBlog

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