A story conceived by Goddess Marquesa

A personal note from Goddess Marquesa: This story is a personal favorite of Mine because it references My number one pet. My Beautiful Borzoi.

This has nothing whatsoever to do with taboo subjects such as bestiality.  I would never consider such a story or fantasy.

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I had never seen such a beautiful dog before. She darted across my vision just as I looked up from my Tolstoy. It felt like a sign, and was- though of what, at the time, I could never have guessed.

It was a cool, sunny, smog free day, and so I had decided to take my research outdoors. I had been camped out in the park for about an hour, reading and taking notes, when she appeared. She was a black-and-white Borzoi, and was bounding happily across the field on which I sat as if she owned it. Her coat was long and lustrous, her eyes bright with mischief, her frame animated by all the power and graceful agility of her breed. My eyes followed her involuntarily, my research momentarily set aside.

My distraction deepened when the Borzoi found her mistress. She was even more arrestingly beautiful than her pet, though hers was beauty of a different kind. Where the Borzoi was lithe and willowy, its mistress was voluptuously shapely. Even with my view partially obstructed by the prancing, happy dog, I could not help thrilling to the curves of the mistress’s form.

I forgot my book entirely and became absorbed in watching the pair for several minutes. They were a picture of perfect love. The Borzoi shimmied and danced with joy at her mistress’s touch, and the mistress kissed and stroked her pet with sweetly maternal tenderness. Drawn as if by a magnet, I rose from the grass and approached them.

“That is a beautiful dog,” I said, raising my voice slightly to catch the woman’s attention.

“Yes, she is,” agreed the woman, rising to inspect me. Her voice matched her frame, arousing carnal yearning with its sultry timbre.

“May I pet her?” I begged.

The woman looked me over and, deciding I was harmless, nodded. “Please do.”

I knelt to stroke the Borzoi. “What’s her name?” I asked.

“Athena.”

“An aptly grand name,” I noted.

“Yes, I’m partial to Goddesses,” she replied, seemingly pleased at the warmth I was showing her pet and the contentment with which Athena received my attentions. “Are you a dog lover?”

“Well…” I began to confess, “I’ve never owned a dog.”

“Oh,” she rejoined, arching an eyebrow. “So you are one of those men that uses dogs as a pretext to flirt?” A breathy teasing quality inflected her luxurious tones.

I turned my face to the ground, vainly attempting to hide the blush that her taunt had aroused. “I-it’s not like th-that.” I stammered. “My research has taught me a lot about Borzois.”

“Research?”

“Yes,” I continued, mustering the courage to look up into her gorgeous face, “I am a professor at the university. I teach Russian literature.”

“A professor,” she repeated with mild surprise, removing her sunglasses to reveal stunning eyes of jade green. “How interesting. You must know then that Borzois were the hunting dogs of the czars.”

“Yes,” I replied, trying to stay focused as I stared deeply into those green orbs. “In imperial Russia a person could only own a Borzoi as a gift from the Throne.”

“That’s right,” she said appreciatively, favoring me with a smile that made my breath catch with its beauty, “you really are a scholar.”

“I published an essay on the wolf hunt in Book Seven of War and Peace,” I boasted, eager to impress.

“Ah…,” she sighed, making my heart skip a beat at the sound. “How fitting that Athena should have caught me a wolf.”

“Hardly,” I said in feigned protest. “One look and I could see that you are way out of my league. I’m not nearly as beautiful as either of you.”

This last statement was the plain truth, but she was gracious enough to laugh at my attempt at flirtation. At the sound my face flushed hot red, dispelling any possibility of concealing the degree to which she had flustered me.

“Well,” she said, producing a leash and attaching it to Athena’s collar, “perhaps your academic training has not been wasted. You have at least had the good sense to stay on your knees before me.”

I had not realized it until she said it, but it was true. I had been kneeling through almost our entire encounter.  I laughed weakly as if she had been joking, though her tone conveyed no jest.

“You will take me out for dinner,” she declared. “I’m in the mood for sushi. Meet me at Amaterasu, tomorrow at 8.”

It was said in the tone of an order, but I would not have objected in any case. As she turned to leave I snapped out of the daze of attraction and arousal into which she had bewitched me. “Wait!” I cried. “What is your name?”

“You may call me Krystal,” she replied over her shoulder, already ten yards away.

Eagerness drew me to the restaurant fifteen minutes early. Krystal looked visibly pleased to find me waiting when she emerged from a cab twenty minutes late. I don’t remember much of our conversation over dinner. I ate and talked as if in a trance, the sights and sounds distorted as if I was watching the meal through a warped lens and listening to it through an echo chamber.

“What made you approach me at the park?” she asked at one point.

“Can’t you see that when you look in the mirror?” I replied, in a lame attempt to sound dashing.

“You’re not that shallow,” Krystal declared flatly. “Besides, you were watching Athena and me for a while. You didn’t think I saw you, but I did. Goddess knows all and sees all. So what did you see that made you come over?”

“I don’t know…” I began, trying to focus my thoughts through the haze of my intense desire, “I guess it was the way you were together. You were so sweetly attentive to Athena, it sort of made me think….” I paused, hesitant to articulate the thought.

“Yes?” she prodded.

“…that you were the kind of girl my mother told me to look out for. She always said that a woman who was kind to children or animals was a keeper.”

“Hmmm….” Krystal murmured in response, her thoughts guarded behind a bewitchingly knowing smile.

I hadn’t touched my beer, but I was utterly intoxicated- drunk off of the scent of her perfume, the reflection of the restaurant’s paper lanterns in her green eyes, the round swell of her breasts, the exquisite curve of her calf, the delectable slope of her thigh. The sheer sexiness of her physical presence was amplified by her wit and cool vivacity. She spoke with a combination of confidence and playfulness that was irresistible. I was totally captivated by her charm.

“What do you do for a living?” I summoned the coherence to ask during a lucid moment.

“I am a hypnotist,” she answered.

“Have you hypnotized me?” I asked with a nervous chuckle. “That might explain a lot.”

She laughed. “No, sweet boy. I haven’t hypnotized you. Not yet. Not the way you mean, anyway.”

When dinner was over and the check paid she rose and asked bluntly, “Do you have a car?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Take me home.” Like the summons to dinner, it was an order. And as before, she knew she would be obeyed.

We drove home in almost complete silence. At one point I glanced toward the passenger seat to find her examining me unnervingly.

“What are you looking for?” I asked light-heartedly.

“Oh…” she mused, “I’m just trying to decide what I want to do with you…To you.”

Athena ran up, excited, when we entered Krystal’s parlor together. She recognized me, and we became reacquainted as I crouched to scratch behind her ears and let her sniff my face.

“What a nice reunion,” Krystal said drily. “Come, let’s all three of us go into the bedroom.”

My breath came in shallow gasps as I followed mistress and pet into the bedroom. When we were inside, Krystal commanded me again: “Unzip my dress.” My hands shook as if I was riding a merry-go-round, but I managed to comply. The dress fell to the floor, and Krystal sat on the bed, summoning Athena to sit next to her. She wore only a black silk bra and matching panties. Her sheer black stockings were held up by black lace garters. She crossed her legs and let one stiletto-heeled shoe dangle from her right foot.

“All right, professor,” she said. “We’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” I mumbled, sounding as clueless as I felt.

“For you to undress.”

Krystal and Athena watched as I unbuttoned and unzipped, tossing each article of clothing aside as my body was exposed. Krystal’s gaze felt like the probing of a microscope, her luminous green eyes seemed able to see past my exterior trembling and agitation to the roiling waves of desire beneath my skin. I felt like a ripe piece of fruit being peeled, with a luscious pair of lips waiting to enjoy my sweet juices. When I finally stood naked I felt more vulnerable than I had since childhood. I had to force myself not to self-consciously cover my genitals with my hands. It would have been difficult in any case, because the sight of Krystal had made my cock so stiff that it stuck up and outward like an antenna.

Krystal looked me up and down appreciatively. “Not bad for a professor,” she declared. “You just might merit having me as your Mistress.”

This took me aback. “What?” I asked blankly. “I’m not married.”

Krystal laughed. “I don’t mean ‘mistress’ like in Anna Karenina,” she explained, her tone one of patient indulgence. “I will be your Mistress in the same way I am Athena’s. I could never be quite as fond of you as I am of her, but you get the drift.” To underscore the point she stroked the beautiful Borzoi who rested affectionately beside her on the bed.

Contrary to her words, I was as far from getting the drift as I had ever been. “I don’t understand,” I pleaded, sounding as clueless as I felt.

“Your mother was right about me,” Krystal replied coolly. “I am a keeper. I keep lots of men, in various ways. Some women, too. I’ve decided to keep you…as my pet.”

This took me aback. But slowly the situation began to dawn on me. “Oh….” I grunted, unable to disguise my discomfort. “I’m sorry…I’m not into that kind of thing…”

A loud but musical laugh burst from Krystal, stirring Athena to yelp softly in sympathy.

I had the strong urge to run, and in retrospect it seems clear that this was the last moment in which things might have turned out differently. Instead, I asked, “What’s funny?”

“The idea that you know the ‘kind of thing’ you are into. Sorry, professor, that is a weak argument. I’ve seen you much more clearly than you’ve seen yourself.”

“Why would I agree to be your ‘pet’?” I asked, beginning to feel a bit piqued.

“You won’t have much choice in the matter,” she said coolly.

The conversation was becoming more disorienting. “I should go,” I said, looking over to where my clothes lay discarded.

“Look at me,” she commanded.

My eyes snapped back to focus on her involuntarily.

“Tell me how I make you feel,” Krystal continued in the same imperative tone.

“Whah?” I grunted incoherently.

“Tell me how I make you feel,” she repeated, her voice edged with impatience.

“Why?”

“Because although I already know, I want to hear you say it. Because once someone has spoken a feeling out loud, it becomes very difficult to resist acting on it.”

I stood transfixed for several minutes, looking at her intently, allowing my eyes to gorge on the sight of her. Every curve of her body seemed to sing to mine, to call forth choirs of yearning from the very depths of my blood, muscle and bone. It hurt to let my gaze follow the lines of her thighs and calves, the swell of her breasts, the exquisite landscape of her face, but it felt so good too.  I wanted the pangs of desire to stop. I wanted them to go on forever. I felt myself begin to swoon.

The effect wasn’t merely physical. A kind of energy seemed to radiate from her, a sheer and overpowering force of life and delight. And the look on her face was irresistibly indomitable. As if she held my soul in her sweet mouth and was enjoying the taste as it melted on her tongue.

Finally, I said, “I want you more than anyone or anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

“Good boy. Now come up onto the bed,” she ordered, patting a spot next to her on the center of her king-sized bed. “Go on all fours like a good puppy.”

I began to tremble, frozen in place. “Why?” I asked, my voice choked with almost-shed tears. “Why your pet? Why not your boyfriend? Your lover?”

Krystal smiled gently and shook her head in mild admonishment. “Because my pet is what I need you to be. That is how I want to keep you.”

“But what about me? What about what I want?” Even though the words came out of my mouth they sounded to my ears like those of a small child.

This elicited another laugh from Krystal, followed by a yelp from Athena. “We’ve already established that what you want….what you need, really…is Me. This is the only way. You can only be with me on my terms. I can’t say that you will necessarily like it. But I can promise you it will be very intense. Very sexual. You will touch me and be touched by me. In any case,” she concluded, patting the bed again, “the less you resist, the easier it will be.”

The trembling in my limbs had become a violent quaking. I was terrified. I felt that I might lose control of my bladder and bowels. Some small corner of my brain screamed at me to escape, but it was too late. I was completely in thrall to her spell. Without being aware of what I was doing, I stumbled forward and assumed the position that she had commanded on the bed.

She rose from the bed and stood behind me.

“You have to be housebroken, just like Athena,” she explained. “Unfortunately your conditioning will have to be much more severe than anything I would ever do to my sweet girl. I’m going to spank you now, until you beg me to stop. For every ten blows that you are able to endure, I will let you kiss my foot once. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I replied.

Smack! The pain in my ass was unreal. I had never imagined that she was so strong. “When you answer me, you will say, ‘Yes, Mistress.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Very good, professor.” Her tone was one of suppressed hilarity. “That was just a warm-up, it won’t count toward a kiss. Let’s begin.”

I managed to endure ten spanks before sobbing that I could take no more. The shame and self-disgust I felt while I accepted my reward didn’t detract in any way from the delirious pleasure of kissing her foot. As I savored the warmth, scent and smoothness of her stocking against my lips I was torn between intense gratification and hellish torment. The pain in my ass was nothing next to the psychic torture, the sheer existential horror as I realized that as soon as my lips left her foot I would begin to inconsolably crave contact with her again, that there was little I would refuse to do or suffer in order to feel this ecstasy once more, and once more after that, and after that….

The hemorrhoid pillow I took to campus the next day did not prevent me from squirming and fidgeting through office hours, so that several students actually inquired after my well-being. It wasn’t just welts and bruises that had me distracted. I kept glancing at the phone on my desk, praying that it would stay silent…praying that it would ring…ring….

Rrrring! At four o’clock she called. I snatched up the receiver eagerly. “Come to dinner at my house. Be here at eight,” she commanded.

I showed up at her door dressed in my best suit, bouquet of roses and a bottle of Dom Perignon 1992 in hand.

“Strip,” she ordered, taking the flowers and tossing them on the floor next to Athena, who sniffed at them nonchalantly. The champagne she examined, and on reading the label walked off to the kitchen as I undressed. She was wearing a white lace bra and panties under a see-through floor-length gossamer nightgown. Through the shimmering silk I could see that her shapely legs and feet were bare. My heart pounded as I raced to remove my clothes.

There was a sound of glass clinking and cork popping from the kitchen. A few moments later she emerged, a flute of champagne in one hand, in the other a short black-lacquered handle from which dangled nine thin black cords tipped by ceramic beads.

“You’re going to sing for your supper tonight,” she purred. “Don’t worry about trying not to beg…I won’t be counting the strokes. When you’ve hit the right note I will stop and dinner will be served.”

We stayed in the parlor. I bent naked over one of her upholstered armchairs and gripped the armrests tightly as the cat-of-nine tails fell across my back between sips of champagne. I screamed lavishly, beginning with the first blow and proceeding from there. Though she had been kind to absolve me from any attempt at being stoic, it would not have mattered in the slightest if she had not. The pain was so hellish that my courage and dignity collapsed instantly. At the first stroke I began pleading for mercy, and my pleas became more strident and pathetic as she continued. I don’t know how many times she swung the cat. Finally, I emitted a screeching howl that sounded like that of an emasculated rooster crossed with a steam whistle.

“That’s the music I was looking for,” she cooed, letting the whip drop from her hand. “Let’s eat.”

I followed her into the dining room. The table was set with fine china, crystal and flowers. In the center were three trays, one bearing cold pasta tossed with olive oil and herbs, one with grilled chicken breast, and another with a salad of tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil. I made to sit down at one of the place settings, but Krystal snapped her fingers imperiously, halting me in my tracks. She pointed at a mat on the floor on which a flat-bottomed circular porcelain bowl rested. After an awkward moment I understood, and knelt in front of the bowl. She reached behind the flower arrangement on the table and produced an open can of dog food. Bending gracefully, she tipped its contents into the bowl in front of me, patting me on the head and enveloping me in her intoxicating perfume.

“Bon apetit, professor,” she breathed into my ear as she rose with the empty can.

She sat at the table and pursed her lips gently, making soft kissing noises. At this sound Athena jumped into the other chair at the table. When Athena had settled in place Krystal looked at me, waiting. I bent forward onto my hands and knees and lowered my face into the dog bowl. As I took the first bites of pungent mush Krystal began to serve strips of grilled chicken to Athena, saying, “That’s my beautiful girl. Tonight we have your favorite….”

After dinner Krystal rose from the table and said, “Come boy.” I made to rise, but she glared daggers at me, and so I crawled after her into the bedroom. Once there she stretched out luxuriously onto the bed and declared. “Watch and learn, professor. Athena knows just how I like it.”

She snapped her fingers, and Athena ran up to the foot of the bed and began to lick Krystal’s feet.  After about three minutes, Krystal again snapped, twice this time. Athena recognized the signal and leapt onto the bed to be near her mistress.

“Your turn, boy. Take over where Athena left off,” Krystal commanded.

I crawled forward and leaned in toward Krystal’s feet, which were still glistening with Athena’s saliva. I wish I could say that I hesitated to lap up dogspit, but in my eagerness to touch Krystal again, to taste her, it never occurred to me to resist or be repelled. I fell to my task with a passion, licking and tonguing as if I was a starving man gifted with a dish of his favorite ice cream. I worked my tongue into the crevices between Krystal’s toes as I had seen Athena do, and was gratified when this elicited moans of satisfaction.

Krystal relaxed and enjoyed my efforts, occasionally running the sole of her foot over my face playfully. After about an hour her moans became more emphatic, and I realized that she must be stroking herself to an orgasm. When her gasps told me she had cum, I ceased licking, but she pressed her foot into my mouth, scolding, “Who told you to stop, boy? Keep licking.” Over the next half hour she brought herself to climax twice more.

After the third orgasm I heard her breathing become shallow and even. Peeking over the edge of the bed, I saw that Krystal and Athena were both asleep. My back afire and my jaws knotted, I tiptoed into the parlor, put my clothes on, and let myself out.

The following days and weeks were a torrent of conditioning. Each evening I offered my body for Krystal to abuse, in the hope that I could feel her hand on me, or serve her with my lips, tongue, mouth, ass, or anus. Each night I left, bruised and ashamed, but desperately craving more of her touch, her attention, her energy.

About three weeks after my conditioning began I arrived at her house to find a set of documents laid out on the coffee table in her parlor.

“What are these?” I asked.

“Read them,” she commanded.

I did, my hand trembling more and more violently as I progressed. They had been drafted by an attorney, and would transfer all of my assets and salary over to Lady Krystal Mesmer. I groaned audibly as I laid the last paper down.

“What are you asking of me?” I pleaded.

“I told you that I would keep you on my terms. These are my terms. If you want to be my pet, you will sign.”

My mouth fell open. My shoulders began to shake. Tears leaked from my eyes. “I….I…I don’t….” I stuttered, fear and surprise paralyzing my capacity to think or speak. Finally I collapsed to my knees and disintegrated into pathetic sobs. “Please….please don’t make me…please….,” was all the words I could produce.

“Go home and think it over,” Krystal soothed, her voice gentle. “You’ve been a good boy, your conditioning has gone very well. We won’t do any training tonight. Think about what you want….what you need. How you feel about me. I will call you.”

I rose in a daze and walked out, my heart a turmoil of conflicting emotions. Terror at what she was demanding. Relief that I would not suffer pain. Disappointment that I would not feel her touch. Horror at the words, “I will call,” a sick fear that I would be waiting every moment to hear from her, and that waiting might drive me mad.

After forty-seven torturous hours (every one of which I counted) my phone rang.

“I’ve missed you desperately,” I hissed into the receiver as soon as I was sure it was her.

“I know, darling boy,” she said, all sweetness and sympathy. “I’m having a little party tonight. Why don’t you come?”

“A party?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “I was hoping to see you alone…I want to talk…”

“We’ll have a chance to talk, I promise,” she interrupted. “This will be a nice change of pace, trust me. It will help you make your decision. Be here at 7:30 sharp.”

When I arrived at 7:30 the house was empty. “Where is everyone?” I asked.

“You got the time wrong, I said 8:00,” Krystal replied. I made as if to argue with her but thought better of it. As my mouth snapped shut, she looked me up and down and continued, “And I told you this was a costume party. Why are you dressed in plain work clothes?”

Again I thought of protesting that she had not read me into the plan, again I kept mum. “No matter,” she declared, “I have something you can borrow. Meanwhile, you must have come here straight from campus, you are a mess. Go into the shower and clean yourself up. I will have your costume ready when you come out.”

It was true that I had come from an evening class. I didn’t feel a mess, but I knew better than to gainsay Krystal’s opinion. I used the shower in her guest bathroom and came naked back into the bedroom, searching for a costume. Krystal was waiting, dressed in a black lace body-stocking that accentuated every voluptuous curve of her gorgeous form. A silver garter around her right thigh drew the eyes to her magnificent legs. “I’ve laid the costume out in the parlor,” she said, pointing me to the French doors that led into the common areas of the house.

I pushed through the doors and emerged naked into a room full of people, all dressed in ordinary street clothes. “Surprise!” they shouted reflexively and in unison, most of them needing a moment to register the fact of my undress. As they grew embarrassed at my nakedness, I became aware with mounting horror that I knew every person in the room. My colleagues in the Department of Comparative Literature were all there, and the department secretaries. Several of my graduate students stood gawking. Worst of all, Allison Stein of the Econ Department, whom I had dated for two years, and Tricia Smith, my girlfriend after Allison, were both clutching drinks and staring wide-eyed.

“Richard?” Allison gasped, appalled. “Richard, what is this?”

I stood frozen, heart stopped, brain a haze of static.

“Thank you all for coming,” Krystal’s voice said as she followed me into the parlor. Passing by my frozen form and striding into the center of the room, she immediately commanded the attention of the crowd. Athena glided gracefully to her mistress’s side and sat by, docile. “My invitation said we would be celebrating a special occasion in Richard’s life, and so we are. I’ve been training Richard to take his place among my pets, you see,” at this point in her speech Krystal looked down affectionately at Athena, indicating her as a member of the menagerie I was to join. “Tonight I will be fitting him with a collar.”

Krystal raised her right hand, in which she held a black leather studded collar attached to a silver chain-link leash. Turning, she reached up and fastened the collar around my neck. Other than trembling I made no motion or protest as she bound me.

“Come, boy,” Krystal ordered, tugging the leash and leading me forward around the room. I shuffled behind her in a daze, too stunned to look down or make any response other than mute compliance. Drool may have trickled from my mouth as I gaped at the assembled guests; I honestly couldn’t remember clearly enough to deny it. The horror and disgust of my colleagues and friends mounted as I walked the room. Some gasped at the angry red welts that covered my back and buttocks. Even so, no one made to protest or escape. Krystal’s charisma held them spellbound.

After a tour of the room Krystal led me into the center and pulled down hard on the leash, bending me over.

“I want you all to see what I have achieved in my conditioning. Who would like to assist me?” Krystal asked.

The room was silent for a full minute. Finally, Tricia walked forward tentatively. There were glistening tears in her eyes, but my intuition told me they were more expressions of resentment and anger than sympathy. Our breakup had not been a good one.

“I’ll help,” Tricia said.

“Very good,” Krystal declared. “Please hold the end of the leash taught, keep him bent over. Everyone observe while I operate on the professor.”

Tricia did as she was told and kept me bent over, ass exposed. Krystal walked behind me and laid into my ass with her open palm, spanking me with all her considerable strength. My tolerance for pain had increased over weeks of training, so as Krystal delivered several strokes of her hand I merely grunted in response. It came as a surprise, therefore, when sporadic laughter began to break out around the room in place of gasps and protests of shock and disgust. The cause only dawned upon me with Tricia’s interjection.

“Oh my God!” Tricia cried, laughing gleefully. “He’s turned on!”

The response had become so natural and spontaneous that it hadn’t occurred to me that it would be noticeable. As always happened when Krystal spanked or whipped me, my cock became rigidly erect. As awareness spread the room erupted in hoarse laughter and harsh murmurs.

“You see,” said Krystal, projecting so that the crowd quieted to listen, “I have tamed the professor to my will. I am the Lady Krystal Mesmer, and the man you once knew as a colleague, teacher, or friend,” on this last word Krystal looked meaningfully at Allison and Tricia, “is now My pet.”

Krystal took the leash from Tricia and snapped the chain, commanding “Heel, boy!” I knelt down on the carpet, still too dazed to protest or disobey. As I sat staring blankly Krystal thanked her guests and ushered them toward the door. Most ignored me as they left, or tried to pretend that they were doing so, whispering to one-another in hushed tones and shooting me sideways glances. A few clever wits came up and patted me on the head as they departed.

When the last guest had departed, Krystal walked up to my inert form.

“Well, pet,” she said, “has this given you any clarity?”

Tears leaked from my eyes. Speech was difficult. “I…I want to kill myself,” I declared.

“You won’t kill yourself,” she replied.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to keep you, pet.”

I had no answer for this. I lowered my head, too sick with shame and regret to move or even think.

Krystal walked away and came back a minute later. She dropped a bundle of papers and a pen onto the spot of floor where I held my gaze.

“It’s time to decide, darling. Will you be my pet or won’t you?”

“I can’t…” I stammered, “I can’t live with the shame…I don’t know how to go on…You’re asking me to give up everything…to live in hell….”

“I can give you a choice,” she said.

At this I raised my eyes, surprised at the first inkling of hope in weeks. “How?” I asked.

“I am a very powerful hypnotist,” she said. “If you want me to, I can put you under and rewire you-give you the strength to resist me. The constant yearning that you feel for me…I can make it go away.”

It was like a rumor of rain in the desert. “You can do that?”

“I can.”

I jumped at the chance. “Please,” I begged. “Please do it. Please give me back my dignity. My humanity.”

Krystal smiled. “All right, pet,” she began, a knowing mischief in her tone. “I will do it…if you answer one question.”

“Yes?” I asked, afraid of what was coming.

“How do you feel about Me?”

I froze in horror. I looked away.

“Look at me,” she ordered. “Answer my question.”

I looked at her, wincing at the assault of her magnetism. My heart raced. My mouth went dry.

“Please,” I begged, “don’t make me say it.”

“Answer my question or leave my house…and never come back,” she declared.

“Oh, God!” I cried, my voice cracking under the strain, “I love You! I love You so much…I…..I….”

My cries crumbled into sobs. Slackening, I surrendered to the inevitable. My hand picked up the pen of its own volition and signed the forms, ceding her everything that I owned.

When I looked up again, I saw that Krystal was seated in the armchair that she used for my whippings. Catching my gaze, she extended her perfect leg and snapped her fingers. “Here boy. Come on. Come, boy!”

I understood at once, and could not resist. I scurried across the floor on all fours and reared up against her leg, greedily rubbing my achingly stiff cock against the soft flesh of her calf and lower thigh. The physical sensation was exquisite, but tears of shame rolled down my cheeks as I humped uncontrollably like a horny mongrel.

“That’s my good boy,” Krystal purred, taking my tear-stained face in the elegantly manicured fingers of her right hand. “You belong to Krystal now…good boy…”

As I pumped away, I felt a strange sensation on my rear end. Athena had mounted my back, and was humping my ass as I humped our Mistress’s leg. I knew that Athena was marking me as her beta, and felt debased to be used this way, but I could not stop in my urgent need for release. The sound of ecstasy that emerged from my throat as I came sounded more like a bark or a howl than any sound a human being would make.

That is how I have achieved release ever since, on the occasions when our Mistress allows it, and every time it happens Athena mounts me to assert her dominance. I know that it is pathetic to live as the junior partner of a Borzoi in the worship of our Mistress, and there are times when the shame drives me to the brink of madness. But over the years I have struggled against my fate less and less, and surrendered to my place as Lady Krystal’s second pet. I try my best now to follow Athena’s example, to give our Mistress unconditional and selfless love. It is a slow process, and our Mistress has had to inflict much pain to reshape me. But I hope someday to serve our Mistress as well as Her sweet Athena does, or nearly so.