How to Train Your Puppygirl

I'm so wet right now. I've been dripping precum from my cage nonstop since Carrie released me from my hogtie and went out with a friend. Ben's sitting in bed right now, reading a book, leaving me be. I'm really starting to feel more like their pet now? It's a confusing feeling. There's some part of me that thinks this is wrong, that I'm supposed to be their girlfriend! I should be up in the bed with them!

But like... I know I could do that at any time. I just have to snap my fingers and Ben will let me out, call me a good girl for trying so many new things, and I resume my old life like nothing happened. I don't think I want that. I really like being a pet. Cuffs and a collar really spice up my workday, and sex with them has been even better these few days than usual! I think they're really into all this. Usually Ben has to work a little to get hard enough to fuck me, but the last few times he's been ready on command.

I bet I could hump my hand right now and get away with it. Ben can't see me through the sheet. I could probably get some fraction of relief.

I want to be a good puppygirl though...

Being a good puppygirl got Carrie's panties in here with me, so who's the real winner here?

December 5

I didn't hump my hand. I wish I fucking had though.

I had today off work, so Ben and Carrie let me sleep in. Once I woke up and had breakfast out of my bowl, they told me I'd be spending the day out and about completing tasks for them, and then they showed me my outfit. I weakly begged to be allowed other clothes, but Carrie just pointed to the lock on my closet door and I acquiesced.

All I went out in was my favorite winter coat, which was long enough to reach my mid-calf, a pair of short heeled boots, and a mask. Ben removed my gag, but then replaced it with his pre-soaked jockstrap and sealed it in with tape. I was completely naked under the coat, except for, of course, the cage, cuffs, and collar. He put the phone-controlled plug in my hole too, then synced it up to a playlist of Christmas music. I complained that people would see my precum running down my legs, that I would leave a wet trail on the floor wherever I went, but neither of them seemed to care. In fact, that just made them more excited.

It was nerve-wracking. I was sure at any moment somebody would figure out I was totally naked under my coat and expose me to the whole store. I'm still sure people saw the dripping trail running from between my legs. How could they have missed it? Every time the plug pulsed against my prostate, it forced more pre out of my poor, denied cock. I was straining like crazy with every step; through the copy shop, mechanic's, every stop on their exhaustive list. It took me all day to finish their errands, and I was a jelly-legged mess by the time I got home. They made me put away and organize everything I got before Ben agreed to turn off the buzzing plug. He kept the jockstrap taped into my mouth until dinner, though.

Dinner was out of my bowl too, and I suspect I won't eat at the table once all month. Fuck, my cock likes that idea, it is straining like crazy right now. So many of the people who talk about wearing chastity cages talk about pain? Especially guys; all the chastity stuff I've researched seems to show they experience a lot of chafing and tugging when their cocks act up. Maybe it's the HRT, but I haven't experienced much pain at all. There was some discomfort the first night, but since then straining has just induced mind-numbing pleasure. The kind of pleasure that gives no relief from the oppressive horny thoughts, but just makes it so much worse.

Fuck, there it is again. I feel fuzzy.

I'm a good puppygirl!

They really get a kick out of that. Carrie's reading over my shoulder right now. She's groping my tits. She just told me I have to keep writing while she plays with my body, and that I should just put my thoughts on the page. Her touch feels amazing. Her skin is so soft, her voice pours in my ear like poisoned honey. She's telling me such evil things. How if she had it her way, I'd never get out of this cage. How I'm better off as their pet. Fuck, she's touching herself to this. She's getting off on my diary!

This is so humiliating. I can hear the sound of her fingers in her cunt, but she forced my head back around to look at my screen when I turned to look. I whined, but I accepted it when she told me good puppygirls obey. I am a good puppygirl, after all. Fuck, now Ben's stroking himself behind my computer chair too. His hand is in my hair, he's telling me how hot I look in my uniform. Wait, UNIFORM?! So this is what I'm expected to wear from now on? Just a collar, cuffs, a cage, and a gag? Oh yeah, the bone gag is back in. The bigger one, obviously. I whined that I wanted the smaller one, but Ben said it was important from my training that my jaw get used to being stretched. It is pretty sore, but not to the point that I don't want the gag. It does feel really good to see a cute pink bone in my mouth whenever I look in the mirror.

FUCK, they both came all over my head and just walked away! Ben said I'm not allowed to clean it up! There's cum dripping all over me, the scent is so fucking strong. I'm straining harder than ever before. I want to hump my hand so badly, I want my cum all over me too!

Ben just locked my wrist cuffs to my desk. "I can't trust a dumb puppygirl like you when you're soaked with cum, you'll lose control," he said, so matter-of-fact. It wasn't an opinion, it wasn't a tease, it was just true. He was right too, I was about to stop typing and start humping until I got SOME kind of relief. I guess I didn't notice him installing these eyebolts into my desk earlier. They're perfectly sized for padlocks to hold my wrist cuffs in place, and he told me I should expect to be locked up like this for work tomorrow. Fuck, now I'm straining harder.

I really thought I wasn't that kinky. I'm not even a sixth of the way through this month and I'm already acting like this much of a subby whore. Cum in my hair, locked to my desk, straining in my cage so hard I'm going to bruise my cock. The steel is fucking unforgiving. It doesn't bend, it doesn't yield, it demands absolute submission to its control of my cock. I can't deny how much I like it. What good will resisting the denial do me? I can pretend I'm not enjoying this all I want, but the cage will still be there, providing something to strain against whenever I think of anything that's happened to me this week, keeping me pliable and needy and desperate.

I love my cage.

Fuck, did I actually just write that? I guess it must be true, then. I use writing as an outlet for emotions I can't bring myself to say out loud, and I often surprise myself with what ends up on the page. That definitely is true, though. My cage feels so good. Getting hard always felt... nice, I guess, but also kinda wrong? Hence the HRT, I suppose, but pressing against a cage like this feels like what pleasure was meant to be for me. There's this burning heat that blossoms up from the pit of my stomach, only to be met by cold steel and forced to continue growing. I wonder if I'll burn hot enough to cum through the cage.

That was a pretty big burst of pre...

December 6

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

Ben said I should open and close every diary entry with writing that three times. He's also made it abundantly clear they will be checking my diary to see how my mental state is progressing throughout the month. He already spanked me when he saw I called them "fuckers" earlier, I guess I'll have to be more careful. That wasn't really fair anyway. I do love it when they tease me like that. Putting important things up out of reach and calling me names when I need help to get to them, making me crawl around all day with my hands and feet locked together, laughing at me when I try to talk around the pink silicone bone strapped into my mouth.

I'm not getting many breaks from my gag. I haven't been free to talk like a human for days now. It only comes out at mealtimes and when they want to give me something to drink or suck on, and those moments don't leave me much opportunity for speech. I tried to ask Carrie if I could cum after dinner tonight, but she just shoved the bone gag back in my muzzle before I could finish the sentence.

Why did I say muzzle? It's my mouth. That's weird.

(Editor's note: Continue to say muzzle. It is the appropriate term for an obedient puppygirl such as yourself. -B)

It was so hard to focus on work today. True to his word, Ben locked my wrist cuffs to my desk, and he also locked my ankles into matching eyebolts drilled into the floor under it. I had no freedom of movement, I had to send him a super-beggy text so I could go pee, and it made me strain so hard I thought the cage would burst. Fuck, I see what they mean when they talk about pain now. My cock is desperate to be free. It's sapping my focus and sanity, bombarding me with the dirtiest images it can conjure to punish me for not giving it attention. I want to scream at it that it's not my fault, that I can't do anything to sate the lust burning in me, but it's not like it would matter. Little bastard would probably just strain harder.

Work was just the fucking beginning today though. When Ben came to let me out of my chair after I finished writing for the day, he stopped. He just looked me up and down and said "I don't think you deserve freedom quite yet." He released my hands and cuffed them behind my chair instead, then just beat my tits. Bare hands, taunting me about how wet it made my caged clit, wailed on them until tears ran down my cheeks. They're still sore and red now, the nipples feel a little chapped. I don't understand why I like that so much. Is that weird?

He did let me go and have some down time with my Switch after that, but once I did the dishes from dinner they were right back on top of me. Ben had to go to his D&D game, but Carrie didn't let me have a very relaxing evening. She decided it was time for her puppygirl to experience some heavier bondage, so she added cuffs to my thighs and biceps, securing them with padlocks as usual. The sound of jingling locks is enough to get me dripping wet at this point, especially as I realize how many are on me all the time. One on each cuff, one on the collar, one on the gag. It really drives home just how submissive I've become already.

I'm pretty bendy, so she could pull my arms all the way behind my back to secure the bicep cuffs with just padlocks, not an ounce of slack between them. The pressure was intense, but oh it felt so fucking good. Forcing my muscles to hold that position, pushing my small tits out, it made me feel like such a whore. Like I was showing off my body for the gorgeous girl who captured me.

I guess making my breasts suffer was the name of the game today, because Carrie pulled out a riding crop and absolutely went to town. She shoved me into a chair, strapped me to it with these thick leather belts, and beat my tits until I was fucking sobbing. She started slow, barely more than love taps, but by the time she finally stopped she was putting her back into it. The desire to call my safeword was in my head for most of it, but I didn't snap my fingers once. I kept expecting the pain to outstrip the pleasure, but my desperate, straining cock indicated that I loved her harsh treatment. It tried so hard to push off the cage and stand at attention for Carrie, but the steel proved as inescapable as ever.

When she finally stopped, she undid my bonds, carried me to bed, and gave me the best cuddles I've ever felt in my life. She even gave me a break from the gag! I had an opportunity to use human words for the first time in days, but I didn't. I just laid there and let her praise me. She told me what a good puppygirl I was, how happy I was making her and Ben, how gorgeous I looked being so kinky all the time. I swear I was glowing. I'm getting blushy again just thinking about it!

This feels way better than vanilla sex ever did, and we were really good at vanilla sex! It just takes a little push to get me to agree to a full-on tit beating now, while my cock stays locked and ignored between my legs where it belongs. Oh fuck, it felt good to say that. It belongs in a cage. Mmffff, it belongs straining in a cage. Is this really all it takes to corrupt me away from full orgasms and properly satisfying sex? A little lump of steel and two dominant partners showing me worlds of pleasure I never even imagined? I still have 25 days to go!

I wonder how much deeper I'm going to drop.

I wonder how much worse this heat is going to get.

I wonder if I'm going to even want the cage off come January.

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

December 7

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

Fuck, just typing those words is enough to get me going now. My poor little cock is drooling constantly. I think it's broken. In every single fantasy it pumps into my thoughts, it's still locked away.

Cockholm Syndrome. Ha.

And if it's already broken, what hope do I have? The bone gag went in for bedtime last night, then straight back in after breakfast today. Carrie told me I look better on the floor while I was eating out of my bowl, and I just barked and wagged without skipping a beat. Not a hint of embarrassment, no recoiling from the idea of being a good puppygirl, I just embraced the compliment and kept eating my kibble. Cereal.

(Editor's note: Kibble.)

Another workday spent locked to my desk, this time with a plug added on top of it. Carrie mercifully chose one that doesn't vibrate, which at least let me be a little productive, but I was constantly aware of it. Just long enough to brush against my puppy button. Ben told me I should call it that, both on paper and in my own thoughts. I think it's kinda silly, but it does feel good to not use the word "prostate" anymore. It feels so weird to use that word for it. Masculinity always felt strange on me, and that part especially just felt foreign. So... boy. "Puppy button," funny though it may be, is a nice alternative.

Being a puppy feels nice. My muzzle and puppy button. I wagged my butt when Ben called me cute earlier, and I giggled when I realized it. When I get so much positive reinforcement for acting like a dog, why wouldn't I do it? It's not like it feels bad. Silly sometimes, sure. It's an objectively ridiculous thing to do, act like a little pet. But fuck me does it feel good. When Carrie calls me her good puppygirl and scratches behind my ears, it feels like heaven. I want her to do that while Ben fucks me and my cock just hangs out in its cage between my legs.

I still want to cum though. Fuck do I want to cum. I want to shoot the biggest load of my life all over my tummy while Ben and Carrie call me a good puppygirl. I want to feel my girlfriend's nice, soft pussy on my cock while I'm locked up in all those leather restraints again. I want Ben's tongue all over me while I whine and squirm and beg. I spend so much of my day thinking about sex. And cuffs. And cages. And duct tape.

Mmm, duct tape. Ben left a roll of it on his nightstand and I can't stop looking at it. The sound it makes when he tears it off the roll. The smell. The feeling of being a little captive when he uses it to bind or gag me. Sure, it hurts when it comes off, but the feeling you get being bound by it is more than worth it. It feels so degrading to have all this expensive gear on only to have Ben use something you can get for five bucks at the hardware store to restrain me.

He used it on my wrists and ankles while we watched a movie after dinner, just above the cuffs, which were also padlocked together. "We can't risk our little subby prisoner breaking out," he cooed in my ear as he added more tape to my bonds. That drove me fucking wild. I'm not just their pet, I'm not just submissive, I'm their prisoner. Their captive. Ben spent the movie groping my cage and teasing me about how I'm not allowed out, how I'm not even allowed to touch it, how any bit of pleasure provided to my locked-up cock will just serve to break me further. Fuck, I wanted to cry. It's been a whole week, and I'm starting to go crazy.

The weirdest part is, my desire for relief feels like it's getting corrupted. There's this sadistic little voice in the back of my mind, telling me that Ben and Carrie love to see me like this so much, isn't it better for me to stay locked up and needy? It's hard not to listen to that little voice, especially when being a good puppygirl has brought me so much pleasure already. I still want to cum, don't get me wrong, but my cock aches when it imagines the adventures yet to come this month. I've gotten glimpses of some wild shit on Ben's computer over the years, and Carrie has morphed into a brand-new version of the girl I love.

She's always been so loving and tender, but she's never been the most confident girl. Hesitant to stand up for herself or set boundaries. She's been walked all over before by people she cared about, and it's led to her turning into a people-pleaser at times. But this... this goddess I've met over the last week has cast all that shit aside. She's even ordered Ben around in bed, which I've never seen before. It's hot as fuck, honestly. Ben is a bigger guy, muscular and well-built while still having some comfy body fat to cuddle with, but he dances to her tune as much as I do lately.

I'm writing in my kennel right now, and I can hear them messing around on the bed. Is that Ben moaning? I've never heard THOSE sounds from him before! He just called her Mistress! Should I start doing that? I should probably start doing that. "Carrie" feels so informal for how I've interacted with her of late. She still treats me with love and respect, and when I have snapped my fingers to ask for breaks from the constant sex I've received them. But she's taken a step beyond just being my partner, and so has Ben. I mean, look at me. I'm locked in my little dog kennel with a sheet thrown over the top while the humans have fun on the bed. I don't think I'm their equal anymore, and I think I like it that way.

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

(Editor's note: We are Master and Mistress to you now, puppygirl. If we see our human names in here again, you're getting punished. -Mistress)

December 8

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

I'm a good puppygirl!

Today was amazing.

Master and Mistress wanted to reward me for my progress thus far. I woke up to the smell of a fresh-cooked breakfast, eggs and hash browns and pancakes with Master's special lemon curd. While I wolfed it all down, they told me how proud of me they were. I was being such a good puppygirl and trying so many new things, communicating my limits as I encountered them, and how I looked so fucking sexy in my cuffs and collar. Once I finished breakfast, they took me out of my cuffs and collar and into the shower, where Master bent me over and absolutely fucked my brains out. Mistress made me eat her out while he did, groping and beating my breasts.

My hands were still bound behind my back, obviously. Good puppygirls don't shower unbound or alone! My body used to take so much work to get ready to bottom. At least an hour of opening and prep, and even then it wouldn't accept cock half the time. Now? Fuck, it's like the cage has unleashed the bottom bitch inside me. I don't just take it, I swallow it up. Master pushes against my hole and it sucks him in like a vacuum. He couldn't last that long inside me today, he said I just felt too good. Apparently he wasn't supposed to cum in me yet, so Mistress shoved him against the wall and spanked him. That was a lot of fun to watch.