He dropped the leash, stepped on it with his foot, and then turned away from her, running the water in the sink. He started washing the dishes and she looked down at her bowl. She bent down precariously and took a bite. As far as punishments went, she wasn't sure if she preferred a spanking or this. At least if she was being spanked, Mark was looking at her, paying attention to her. He was focused solely on washing the dishes and the only thought he had for her was standing on her leash so she couldn't run away. Like a stray dog.
She continued to take small bites of the cereal to please him. She'd eaten almost the whole bowl when he picked it up off the floor, dumped the rest in the trash and washed the bowl and set it aside to dry.
He slid the leash out from under his boot and tugged it. She got to her feet and stumbled after him. He stopped in the bedroom and grabbed the two padlocks from the nightstand drawer along with a set of keys. He led her into the bathroom. He turned her around, padlocked the collar to her neck and tugged the leash down. She immediately knelt down. He locked the end of the chain to the bolt in the floor. He used the keys to unlock the handcuffs from her wrists. Then he left. All without saying a word.
And if she sometimes thought Mark's orders were scary, Mark not giving orders was much, much scarier. He was gone a while and she'd thought maybe they needed a cooling off period. She didn't know how long it was before he returned and when he did, the first thing she heard was a loud thump in the hallway. Mark appeared in the doorway with, of all things, a large cordless drill. She watched in silence as he set it down, brought the bathroom door into view, and aligned it with the holes in the frame.
He set about re-hanging the door and for some reason Abby knew, instinctively knew, that while she'd been so desperate for a door when she'd first arrived, having him hang it up now was bad. Really, really bad. She didn't want that door. For no reason that she could name, she started to cry quietly.
Mark finished with the door and closed it, leaving her alone again. She was trying not to get upset when he returned just minutes later with another bowl. She heard the faucet running behind her and he set the bowl down in front of her against the wall. It had water in it. It was not a dog bowl, just a cereal bowl, but the message was very, very clear. Mark left the bathroom.
Okay, Abby told herself. Okay. She wasn't hurt physically, everything was fine. They just needed some time out and Mark needed to make a point. So she would sit here, like a good girl, and wait until he was in a better mood.
This time, Mark was gone a while. So long that she actually picked up the bowl and drank from it. Then she picked at the tiles on the floor. Then she counted the links in the leash. Then...she was regretting drinking the water.
She had to pee. Bad. She'd had to pee for a few minutes now and set about finding a way to do that. The toilet was too far. Out of desperation, she had considered the tub, but it was also out of reach. That left the towel hanging on the wall in front of her. And that was just...no. She had to call Mark. Maybe bitches didn't speak, but they had to pee, and that surely trumped the restriction.
She was about to call out 'Mark' when she checked herself. Sir. Always ‘Sir’ when she had the collar on. "Sir?" Her stomach fluttered as she called out. What if he was still mad? What if he punished her for speaking? What if he punished her for speaking before he let her pee? No answer. "Sir?" she called again, louder.
She heard boots coming down the hall and steeled herself for whatever was to come. He was a reasonable man. He would understand. The door opened and he stood there, arms crossed over his chest. "Thought I made myself clear about speaking. Speak one more time and it's the cane."
She scowled. Not at him. But at her dilemma. Can't speak. Gotta pee. She pressed her lips firmly together and directed her gaze meaningfully at the toilet. "You've got to piss?"
She nodded.
Mark took out the keys and unlocked the leash from the floor. "Let's go for a walk, bitch." He turned to leave and she crawled frantically after him. Walk? Where were they going? Was he really going to lead her around while she had to pee to make her hold it longer? Pee punishment. That was one she hadn't thought of. She started counting to distract her. One Mississippi. No, no, no. No water. One alligator, two alligator, you do not have to pee. Three alligator, these are not the droids you're looking for. Hold it.
Mark led her to the back door and opened it. She froze. He tugged the leash. She couldn't go outside. She was topless and although she had on a garter belt, she no panties and a giant plug sticking out of her ass. Outside was not an option.
"Bitch," Mark said menacingly. "You piss on my carpet and I will rub your nose in it."
Abby's heart hammered. Trying to maintain her composure, she peeked out the door. Mark's yard was large, bordered by trees, and she didn't immediately see any neighboring houses. She tentatively stepped outside. She prayed that he would only make her crawl around for a few minutes before he had mercy on her. Holding it was not something she'd ever been that good at.
She crawled carefully down the deck stairs and onto the grass. At least the grass was soft on her knees, she thought. Alright. Crawl, don't think about it, Crawl, don't think about it.
"Well?" Mark asked her. She looked up at him confused. She was on a leash. If he didn't walk, she couldn't walk. Was she just supposed to crawl around him in a circle? "Thought you had to piss."
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. He was not-
"So piss. I don't have all day, bitch."
He was. He honest to God was telling her to pee in the grass. Once she got over her initial shock she realized she had two options. She could beg. Begging would absolutely result in a caning. But it might also result in her being allowed to use a toilet. Or she could suck it up and pee in the grass. Pain, humiliation, pain, humiliation. These were not choices she wanted to have to make. She started to cry.
Would Mark let her go inside if she asked? She had no way of knowing. In the end, the prospect of asking, being told no, and then having to endure a caning was too scary and she slowly, carefully spread her knees apart in the grass. She sobbed uncontrollably as she released her bladder on the lawn.
When she was done, Mark turned and led her back up to the house. Abby couldn't crawl and wipe her nose at the same time so her face was a mess of snot and tears when they reached the bathroom again. He locked her to the floor and abandoned her. She pulled the towel off the bar and wiped her face with it. Then she curled up with it on the cold, hard tile floor.
Mark returned some time later. He silently undressed her, put on her wrist and ankle cuffs, and led her to the kitchen. He attached the leash to the table leg with one snap hook and cuffed her hands behind her back with another. He set down a bowl of oatmeal. At least it was hot, she thought. She balanced precariously again, leaning forward just enough to eat the porridge, but not fall face first into it. Mark sat at the table and ate silently.
At this point Abby was pretty hungry. She'd not had the whole bowl of cereal and so as humiliating as it was, she licked the bowl clean. Mark took it away and washed the dishes then released her hands from behind her back and led her back to the bathroom.
He snapped them together in front of her this time and attached her to the bolt in the floor, forcing her to her hands and knees. He left and returned with something she'd never seen before. A large bar, like a police baton, but not quite as thick. Before she could wonder if he was going to beat her with it, he quickly attached it first to one ankle cuff then the other, keeping her feet apart, and as such her knees. She was immobile.
He came up behind her and the ball gag appeared in front of her mouth. Reluctantly she accepted it. He fastened it and reached down to pull out the plug. Abby grunted in pain as he removed it. She felt a squirt of cold lube on her ass and knew what was coming though she dreaded it. Then a thing larger than the damn hose slid into her. It was a little smaller than the last plug and didn't hurt at badly. It also didn't feel cold or warm like the plugs could be made to feel, so she didn't know what it was.
She heard a hiss of air, rhythmic and slow and felt the thing in her ass getting bigger, stretching her. She bit down on the gag as it expanded inside her. When it finally stopped, she dropped her head, wearily. She heard the tell tale click and felt the first warm rush of water. She was determined not to cry. It filled her bowels slowly, twisting and churning, and her belly felt heavy.
Mark occasionally squeezed her tummy, checking for cramping she guessed, and she supposed she was grateful for that.
Another click. Then another. When she became too agitated from cramping, he slowed down the flow and let her adjust. He detached the bar holding her feet apart then she felt his hand on her ass and knew he was going to pull out the hose or nozzle or basketball or whatever it was inside her ass. There was a soft click and a release of air as it slowly deflated. He carefully pulled it out. She clenched tightly trying not to make a mess on the floor. She sure as fuck didn't want him rubbing her nose in that.
He unclipped her cuffs and she had a momentary panic as she wondered if he would make her go on the lawn again, but she heard the toilet seat lift. "Go," he told her.
The pressure in her belly didn't give her time to think about whether or not she wanted to do this in front of him. She sat on the seat and breathed a sigh of relief through her nose as she let go. Thankfully, it was all just water. Probably not the kind of water she wanted to think about or even see, but water just the same. She turned and flushed it immediately. She wiped her tears and then herself as she waited for the tank to fill up again and flushed a second time.
Mark took off the ball gag and the collar and set them on the counter. He took her by the arm and directed her not to the tub, but to the shower stall next to it. He turned on the water, tested it, then pulled down the spray nozzle and hosed her down, starting with her breasts. He rinsed her thoroughly then took a bar of soap from the caddy and scrubbed her with it.
It was some kind of harsh soap, the kind that he used himself. Not what he had bought for her. Not her Orange Blossom.
He scrubbed her pussy and her ass, inside and out, but didn't tease or even be really gentle. He wasn't hurting her, but knowing what she could be having compared to what she was getting hurt in it's own special way. There were a lot of ways to be a dog, Abby decided. And they all fucking hurt in their own special ways.
She was numb even though the water had been warm by the time he pulled her out and toweled her off. He reattached everything but the ball gag and secured her to the floor again. She felt him part her legs and winced at the cold stream of lube on her ass. She grit her teeth and vowed not to beg. She would not say no. She would not say stop. She would endure. She'd fucked up and this was the penalty.
She didn't know it if was better or worse that Mark sure as fuck didn't seem to be getting any kind of twisted thrill out of all this either. Why would he? He'd loved giving her her gifts. Her soaps and shampoos and makeup and gorgeous lingerie. He'd cuddled her in his lap and held her when she asked and even fed her from his hand when he knew he had to be the Dom, but he didn't want to force her to eat out of a dog bowl.
I promise you that you will understand how easy you've had it these last two days.
But he'd been wrong. She hadn't had it easy. She'd had it
good
. Damn good. Near fucking perfect. And there might have been a little whipping and a little anal play that she didn't care for, but she'd had it good. She knew the rules. She didn't choose to obey them and now she was being punished.
She bore down, pushed hard when he started the insertion. Just like he'd told her. But it was harder. So much fucking harder. Not only was the plug bigger, but she wasn't aroused, which always seemed to have the magical effect of lessening the pain.
You should thank your Dom, when you can, for allowing you to come during your training.
Well, now wasn't that the truth? He'd been rubbing her and fingering her and fucking her to get those plugs in and that had helped. A lot. Because insertion was hard work. But once they were in, and he was tugging on them while eating her pussy or fucking her hard, it was heaven. Sheer heaven.
She cried out from the pain, but didn't beg. She took it like a good girl and wished she was 'pet' instead of 'bitch'.
Mark finished the insertion and gathered up his tools. On his way out, he turned out the light and shut the door. That soft click shattered her insides as much as a cane or a punch to the gut. She was in her cage. It was bigger than a dog cage, but it had a door and a cold floor and a water bowl and, most importantly, no Mark.
She pulled the damp towel of the wall and cried into it.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
In the morning, Abby woke up, face still swollen from crying. It was Mark who had woken her, coming in the door. He pulled out the plug, unlocked her, and said. "Go. You have ten minutes." Then he left. Well, at least she didn't have to shit on the lawn. She did her business and he stuck her in the shower for another hosing off.
She was back on her hands and knees for this morning's plug insertion. She held it together as best she could and crawled down the hallway to the kitchen where she was chained to the table leg and ate cereal out of a bowl with no hands. But she was undeterred. Today was Sunday. The last day. And today she would win him back.