The Devil’s Pact Slave Chronicles 12: Sarai, Mistress of the Kennel
Introduction:
Sarai has to break in a new slave for her mistress’s kennel!
by mypenname3000
Copyright 2015
Sarai: Madam of the Kennels
Note: Sarai had always been a submissive lesbian and Diane dominated her in The Devil’s Pact Slave Chronicle 5: Via, Freedom. Thanks b0b for beta reading this.
“The disobedience of Sister Cuntrag continued, much to our God’s consternation. ‘If she continues in her defiance of my will like an ungrateful beast, then I shall treat her like one.’ So the Living God placed a collar about her throat, dog ears upon her head, and inserted a butt plug into her rectum adorned with a dog’s tail. Then, offering his hand to his Goddess, he walked Sister Cuntrag like a bitch and forced her to perform many humiliating acts. The will of Sister Cuntrag was finally bent to our Gods, and she submitted.
‘Make of me your slut,’ she begged, and was transformed from the foul Nun who dared oppose our Gods into Karen, the Holy Slut, by virtue of our Gods’ love and compassion.”
—Gospel of April 14:34-37
May 21st, 2052 – Sarai Saqqaf – Delhi, District of Southeast Asia
I contemplated my favorite passage of the Gospel of April as I knelt in the Shrine of the Forgiven. The statue of Karen that graced the center of the shrine was sculpted of the finest marble and captured the Holy Slut’s beautiful countenance. Every time I stared at it, I remembered our passionate affair that weekend forty-years ago. She was a Nun then, going by the name Sister Louise Afra, and tricked into opposing the Gods.
But they forgave her and named her Karen.
She was the first woman to ever dominate me. She took my maidenhead in the bathroom of Delta airplane flying from Chicago to SeaTac. I had been a stewardess then. Karen taught me to accept that I was a lesbian and forget my misguided, Muslim beliefs.
And then I met Diane at this hot club in my home town of Tacoma, the Clam Diver. She realized what I was, a submissive looking to be dominated, and that afternoon in her apartment, she made me her slave while Via watched.
Diane rose high in the Theocracy. Her friendship with the Goddess granted her the Archdiocese of Southeast Asia. My lover collected other slaves over the years. Special women trained by me to please her. All were bastard daughters of the God Mark. I followed the teachings of the Gospel, and broke each girl to my Mistresses desire.
“Madam,” a gentle voice whispered.
I turned to the two kennel slaves kneeling before me. Jordan Smilingfox, cinnamon-skinned and raven black hair, and Akane Mirai, almond eyes and porcelain face, adoringly stared up at me. They were my personal bitches, given to me by Diane out of gratitude of my loyal service. They wore dog collars about their neck; headbands with dog ears on their heads, and butt plugs adorned with dog tails up their asses.
Just like Holy Karen.
“Yes?” I asked, annoyed that they interrupted my devotion.
“Mistress commands your presence at the mansion, Madam,” Akane answered.
I petted her hair and she smiled at me, rubbing her cheeks against my thigh. They were my favorite slaves, some of the best I ever trained. I gathered their leashes, and they crawled before me, their cute asses wagging their tails. As we moved through the large Church, worshipers and clergy bowed to me.
Outside, Lily Klerk and Miranda Peck waited with my rickshaw. They were pony girls, horse-tailed butt-plugs shoved up their asses, their hair long, falling down their naked backs. Harnesses covered their bodies, attached to the rickshaw. My bitches helped me into the rickshaw. A riding crop lay coiled on the rickshaw’s seat. I grabbed it and snapped the end on my ponies tanned asses.
They giggled, pulling my rickshaw at a jog while my bitches ran alongside. The busy streets cleared for us. The Citizens bowed—only Diane and her servants used a pony girl rickshaw—as we passed. I could tell their professions based on how they dressed: janitors in charcoal coveralls, government workers in gray suits and ties, nurses in red scrubs and doctors in blue. Everyone was happy. It was the Gods Final Commandment: “Find fulfillment and joy in whatever job, spouse, or home the Theocracy selects for you.”
The only real choice a person made was sexual slavery. And only the most beautiful young woman or handsome young man was allowed that choice. Sex slaves were the symbol of status. If you worked hard at your job and rose high, you might be allowed to bid on a slave.
My ponies made good time with encouragement from my whip licking their cute asses. They had a nice sheen of sweat on their tanned skin. Both were blonde, their hair lightened by decades in the sun. Along with Hannah, the two girls were Diane’s earliest collections.
“You did good,” I praised as my bitches unharnessed them. I held up sugar cubes and the pony-girls eagerly licked them off my hand.
“Thank you, Madam,” Lily smiled. I gave her a kiss on the lips and allowed my hand to fondle her bottom.
“You two have earned an afternoon of delight,” I told them after kissing Miranda.
I walked them through the kennel to their cell. They were a breeding pair, and had two daughters that also served as ponies. Mistress allowed Lily to have a cock and she was summoning it the moment the girls were locked in their cell. I wanted to stay and watch the girls make love, but Diane awaited.
Diane was in the study, sitting in her chair. The study had her desk, shelves for books, and one corner was given over to discipline. A spanking bench with straps to hold down an unruly slave sat before a pegboard from which hung a selection of whips, crops, and paddles.
One of the cat-girls licked her feet. The cat-girls were the house-slaves. They wore cute, kitten ears and had cat-tail butt-plug. Their collars had little bells on them that tinkled as they frolicked around the house. They didn’t sleep in the kennels, instead the five of them would find a room and sleep in a pile of naked flesh.
Quietly standing in the corner behind Diane’s desk was a nervous, coffee-skinned girl. She had thick, curly, black hair that piled about her shoulders. She was naked and looked uncomfortable. I figured her age was eighteen, and she had a nice pair of round, plump tits and a curvy figure.
“There you are, my pet,” Diane purred.
I fell to my knees, my two bitches heeling me. “You summoned me, Mistress?”
“Yes, this is Gardenia. My newest slave. I want her trained as a bitch.”
“Of course, Mistress.” I stood up and walked over to a shelf and found a dog collar and leash. “You are Gardenia?” I asked her, stroking her face.
“Yes,” she muttered with a sullen scowl. Diane had a knack for finding girls that were less than enthusiastic about becoming slaves.
“Yes, Madam,” I corrected. “Fail to address me properly, and you shall be disciplined. Fail to obey my commands promptly, and you shall be disciplined. Fail to perform satisfactory, you shall be disciplined.”
“Yeah, uh, Madam.”
I thrust the collar at her. “From now on you are a bitch, and bitches wear their collars at all times.”
She eyed it, then blinked at me stupidly.
“Put the collar on, Gardenia!”
She shook her head. I could feel Diane’s eyes on us. “Bitches,” I snapped. Jordan and Akane gracefully rose and grabbed the girl.
“Let me go,” she shouted, struggling in my bitches grasp.
They hauled the struggling girl, her breasts bouncing nicely. My bitches were strong, they exercised daily, and they easily dragged her to the spanking bench and bent her over the hard wood. Gardenia yelled and spat as they pulled her arms into the leather cuffs attached to the benches legs, then strapped her knees to the other side, spreading her wide open and giving me a good look at the tangled, black bush between her thighs.
“The paddle,” Diane ordered. “Twenty spanks.”
I glanced over and the cat-girl, Annie, had buried her face between Diane’s thighs, busily working her tongue through Diane’s pussy. Mistress loved watching a disobedient slave be disciplined. I selected an oak paddle, stained dark with holes drilled in the wood. I gave it a swing, the air whistling through the holes.
Perfect. I moved to the disobedient slut and swung.
Crack!
“Holy shit!” Gardenia gasped.
“Wrong!” I barked. “What do bitches say?”
“I don’t know,” the slave wailed.
Akane licked Gardenia’s face and whispered in her ear, “You should have said, ‘Thank you, Madam, this bitch needs nineteen more spankings.’ You count down, okay.”
Smack! Gardenia’s dark bottom was tinged red.
“Thank you Madam, this b-bi…” She snarled her tongue around the word.
“You can do it,” encouraged Jordan sweetly, licking her lips. “Just admit what you are…a bitch!”
Like good cop-bad cop from TV shows and movies, I was the harsh mistress and Jordon and Akane the gentle slaves.
Spank!
“Thank you, Madam. This b-bitch needs seventeen more spankings,” she sobbed.
“Wrong!” I smacked her ass with my bare hand. Her right asscheek glowed red. “You start the count at the beginning. You don’t get to skip ahead.”
Crack!
“Thank you, Madam,” Gardenia spat out quickly. “This bitch needs nineteen more spankings.”
“Good job,” Akane murmured.
I switched to her left cheek, landing a nice blow. “Thank you, Madam!” she gasped. “This bitch needs…uh…eighteen more spankings!”
My paddle whistled then cracked on her ass. Her cheeks jiggled and her hips wiggled as she strained against the bonds. Gardenia sobbed her count, and I glanced at Diane. She had a handful of Annie’s fiery hair and ground the slave’s face into her cunt, sighing softly. My own pussy was releasing a flood of juices down my thighs.
I would need relief when I finished.
Crack! Smack! Crack!
Gardenia’s ass grew brighter and brighter, her squeals louder and louder. Tears ran down her face, making me just wetter. Diane groaned, Gardenia’s tears triggering a powerful orgasm, tossing her head, framed by black ringlets.
“Thank you, Madam! This bitch needs three more spankings!”
Another stinging slap, reddened cheeks jiggling, my pussy burning for a woman’s mouth.
“Thank you, Madam! This bitch needs two more spankings!”
The ache in my clit burned, beckoning for my fingers to provided soothing relief.
“Thank you, Madam! This bitch needs one more spanking!”
I wanted to rub my cunt on her burning ass.
Crack!
I lifted my skirt, exposing my shaved pussy. Gardenia cried in pain as I rubbed my pussy on her tender ass.
“Oh yes,” I sighed as I massaged my pearl into her pliant flesh, smearing my juices, an ointment to soothe her burning as she soothed mine. “Gods yes!” My pussy contracted, cream squirting out as my body thrashed in passion. My head threw back and I stared sightless at the ceiling as rapture engulfed me.
I gasped, panted, contentment flooding my body as I straightened my skirt. I glanced back at Diane and found her working at her desk, Annie curled into a ball on the floor beside her stroking her pussy and biting her teeth to keep from loudly moaning.
“Free her,” I commanded.
My bitches obeyed, deftly unstrapping Gardenia. The girl wiped her tears from her narrow face, nostrils flaring as she fought off more sobs. She stood up straight, still full of defiance. I thrust the collar at her. She hesitated, eyes flicking towards the spanking bench, and sullenly took it from me and strapped it around her neck.
“Good,” I answered. “Gardenia is too pretty a name for a bitch. You shall be Cuntlapper.”
“Yes, Madam,” she answered.
I hooked the leash to her collar. “How do bitches walk, Cuntlapper?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Do you need another twenty spankings?”
“No, Madam.”
I jerked the leash so she looked at me. “Then answer my question, Cuntlapper.”
“Umm, on all fours.” She winced, fearing she gave the wrong answer.
I nodded my head and waited, staring fixedly at her. She wilted, swallowed, and knelt on the floor.
“Good girl,” I cooed and petted her hair. “Let’s go bitches! Back to the kennel. Cuntlapper, just follow Jordan and Akane.
She slowly crawled, her knees not used to moving across rough surfaces and she kept wincing. My eyes were fixed to her dark, rosy ass, so cute as it swayed between my other two bitches. She would need a tail, and that brought a smile to my lips. I loved breaking in a new slave’s asshole. It was so much fun.
By the time we reached the kennels, I was grounding my teeth and wishing I had a crop. A few flicks of a whip on her tender ass would motivate her to keep up the pace. The new bitch looked into the cages, the small rooms pairs of bitches and pony-girls lived in. Most were occupied with pairs relaxing in their free time, playing games or watching television or making love. All of them were daughters or granddaughters of Mark.
I led her into the supply bar, the wall covered with all sorts of sexual toys: dildos, butt plugs, clamps, restraints, whips, paddles, gags, hoods, vibrators, I chained her leash to a post in the center while Akane and Jordan found comfortable spot to cuddle on the floor.
“Which plug should we start with?” I mused out loud, my fingers running across tapered, black plastic, dog tails hanging from the wide end. I hefted a thick one. “This one, Cuntlapper?”
Her eyes widened in shock and she didn’t answer me.
“I asked you a question, bitch!”
“No, Madam,” she squeaked in fright, her eyes flicking to the paddles.
“Are you sure?” I purred, stepping up to her and holding it between her eyes. It was five inches at its widest. “Your ass would be stretched open with this one. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“No, Madam.”
“You will,” I promised. “Akane, ready the bitch!”
“Yes, Madam.” The Japanese bitch crawled to Cuntlapper and pitched her bottom. “On your hands and knees, bitch!”
“Yes…uh…”
“Alpha bitch,” Akane growled, nipping her ass. “Reach behind and spread your pretty butt-cheeks.”
Wincing, Cuntlapper spread apart her burning ass-cheeks, exposing a brown sphincter. Akane licked her chops, then buried her face in the Black bitch’s ass. Her eyes widened as Akane tongued her sphincter, then a smile appeared on her face and she purred.
“You like that, bitch?” I asked, standing in front of her. I unlaced the bodice of my priestess vestment, a translucent, white dress trimmed with gold. My round, dusky breasts popped free and I stroked a hard, dark nipple.
“Yes, Madam,” she moaned.
My dress slipped to the floor and her eyes fell upon my naked curves. “Time to put your mouth its proper use.”
“I’m sorry, Madam?”
“What’s your name, bitch?”
“Gar…Cuntlapper, Madam.”
“Exactly.”
She inhaled my tart arousal. Her tongue was wonderful. Agile, flitting light as a feather across my labia, brushing my clit. Sparks flew inside me and my head threw back and a low, purring moan escaped my lips. I gathered a handful of her voluminous, silky hair and ground my cunt into her skilled lips.
“I was right when I named you, bitch!” I gasped. “You were born to lap cunt!”
“Madam, may I fuck this bitch’s ass?” Akane asked, looking up at me between dark-red asscheeks.
“Yes!” I hissed.
“Thank you, Madam.”
A cock blossomed from Akane’s crotch, her clit transformed by the Shophkah spell. Thin and long, the head dark pink and weeping clear pre-cum. I made sure I had a good grip in Cuntlapper’s hair as my Japanese bitch mounted Cuntlapper and shoved her cock up the new slave’s ass.
She screamed into my clit, humming through my little pearl. The tinder caught inside me, my passion blazed through me. I gasped, smearing the bitches face through my cunt. She kept sobbing, Akane thrusting hard and slow, breaking her ass in.
“Fuck the bitch!” I gasped. “Make her cum on your cock!”
“Oh, yes, Madam!” grunted Akane as she humped away.
Another orgasm burned through me. I loved watching a bitch get degraded. Breaking her down until she was ready to serve, eager to please. Her tongue speared into me, her moans no longer full of pain.
“I think she likes my cock. Squeeze that asshole. Work those hips. That’s a good bitch!”
My legs felt weak, but I had one last thing to do. She tried to pull away as my piss shot into her mouth. I held on tight and Akane’s thrusts drove her face back into my pussy. I sighed, pleasure tingling through me as I emptied my bladder. Acrid yellow leaked out of her mouth, dribbling onto the floor. Her eyes shone with humiliation.
My cunt exploded. Pleasure. Rapture. Passion. Electricity. Sensations overpowered me. My muscles contracted. I stumbled back, catching myself on the post, panting as my body trembled in small aftershocks.
Her face was a mess. Tears ran out of her eyes, pussy cream and urine decorated her face. A puddle formed beneath her and I shook my head. I grabbed her hair and shoved her face down into the piss. “Lick it up, bitch!”
Her tongue lapped across the concrete floor then moaned, her body trembling. The humiliation and shame mixed with the pleasure and pain. Confusion and lust warred in her face as she came despite the degrading treatment. No, she came because of the degrading treatment.
Akane howled, burying herself in Cuntlapper’s ass, her face a rictus of pleasure as she unloaded cum in her ass. I grabbed a 3” butt-plug as Akane pumped the last few times, squeezing every drop of her seed out, before she dismounted.
“Oh, my Gods,” panted Cuntlapper.
I shoved the butt-plug up her ass, lubed by Akane’s cum.
“Now you’re fully a bitch!” I smiled.
June 8th, 2052 – Sarai Saqqaf – Delhi, District of Southeast Asia
Diane pissed in Cuntlapper’s mouth. The bitch’s training was complete and she didn’t need to be held in place to accept her Mistress’s urine. She gladly drank the piss. When the stream died down, Cuntlapper licked Diane’s pussy clean.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Cuntlapper purred. “This bitch enjoyed drinking your urine.”
“You’re welcome,” Diane purred, stroking the slave’s head, then my Mistress looked at me. “You did well with this one, Sarai.”
I smiled and bowed. “Thank you, Mistress.”
“Do you want to be my bitch forever?” Diane asked, bending down to stare Cuntlapper in the eyes.
“I do, Mistress,” Cuntlapper smiled. “I’m your bitch.”
“Cuntlapper is such an inelegant name. You can be called Gardenia once more.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “Thank you, thank you, Mistress.”
Diane climbed into our bed and I slid in beside her, kissing my mistress on the lips. “You’re going to get a very nice reward,” Diane promised me, then glanced at Gardenia. “Dogs sleep on the foot of the bed.”
“Oh, sorry, Mistress.” Gardenia hopped on the bed and curled up at our feet, her coffee skin stark against the white comforter.
“So what is my reward?” I asked.
“Sit on my face and I’ll make you howl, Sarai.”
I beamed. “You always do, even after forty years.”
