Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, F/fm, femdom, lesdom, petplay, non-consensual, slavery, chastity.

Basima couldn’t decide if she missed the rubber suit or not. The black rubber maid outfit that covered her from neck to toe. She’d been forced into it, then forced to dress herself in it, nearly every single day from when Charles Greenwood bought her until his wife Lydia decided to make her a puppy slave.

Now Basima was essentially naked all the time. Her “uniform” was a red leather under bust coreset, a chastity belt, two leather pouches that kept her hands useless, and a pair of sheathe-like leather fittings that kept her legs folded up so she walked on her knees. There was a moisture-retaining ring gag lodged firmly in her mouth, and her hair had been fashioned into two large pigtails that simulated dog ears. Somehow the worst part of it all was that she couldn’t decide whether or not this uniform was an improvement to the last one.

Sometimes she missed the suit. Being trapped in all that constricting rubber could feel oddly… cozy. A strange thought, to be sure. But true. She envied Jason when she missed the maid uniform. The only times he didn’t wear his bitchsuit were when he was being given a bath. And he usually wasn’t even conscious for that! Basima would know. She used to help give them to him.

Other times she didn’t miss wearing the rubber suit at all. Being able to feel air conditioning or an outside breeze on her bare skin could be downright heavenly after so much time in all that black and white material. It was during those times that Basima thought her nudity was the one and only way being a puppy was an improvement over serving as a maid.

Maids could walk around instead of having their legs frogtied so often. Walking on heels all day was miserable, yes, but putting so much weight on the knees wasn’t better. More than that, being a puppy was boring. Cleaning the expansive Greenwood Mansion may have been tedious, but it was at least something to do and focus on. All Basima could do as a pet-slave was sit in a cage, wander the house aimlessly, or spend time with Mistress.

That’s what she was in the middle of doing, actually. Spending time with Mistress Lydia on an afternoon walk on the Greenwood family’s walled off estate. She had swept into the room Basima and Jason had been relaxing in, Jason curled up on one of the doggy beds placed in various points of the mansion and Basima stretched haphazardly in a sunbeam on the floor, declared it was time for a walk, and taken them outside.

It was a bright and sunny spring day. Not too hot and not at all chilly either. Days like this were the only times Jason was brought outside at midday. Mistress didn’t want high or low temperatures to overwhelm him.

There was no escape here. Basima and Jason—or Princess and Baxter, as they were always called now—didn’t even have leashes on. The estate was walled off. And even if it wasn’t, they knew better than to run away from their owner.

Mistress took the lead. One command to “heel,” was all it took for her two puppies to fall into step at her side, plodding along just behind her as they’d been trained. Basima was on her left, Jason on her right. Lush, well-maintained grass was just feet away from Basima’s leather clad limbs. She preferred the soft grass to the paved walkway that crossed through the estate.

Lydia was quiet. It was always her goal to train her puppies to behave correctly with no instruction. The more commands and reminders she had to give, the more cross she was. Today she seemed satisfied to leave her pets be without any critical words.

The newer puppy found herself glancing over to Jason when she could get away with it. He rarely glanced back anymore. Now he let his tongue droop out, made dog noises, and tried to sniff things. Every day he seemed to have fallen deeper into the act of pretending to be a dog.

Basima shuddered. Jason wasn’t the first puppy she had seen (helped) Mistress break. She got a new one every year before taking them off to an ominous sounding “dog show” and eventually selling them. Jason wasn’t an outlier, and she knew it would happen to her too. But how long would it take? It had been some time since Mistress decided that Basima would be a puppy instead of a maid. A month, maybe? More? Less?

Becoming a puppy was Basima’s punishment for treating “Baxter,” who she still thought of as Jason, like a person. She’d been paraded before the other maids as a warning more than once since it happened. Mistress did not appreciate it when people reminded her human pet slaves that they were, in fact, human. Basima had overheard numerous arguments she had with her husband and daughter about it. Lydia disapproved of the way they liked to taunt their “pets,” with references to their former lives.

Basima had always seen Charles Greenwood’s pony slaves more often as a maid than she did as a puppy now. She used to comfort herself by remembering that she was no pony, but now she envied them. They got to stretch out their legs too.

The third human puppy in the household was Miss Samantha’s property, someone she had personally asked to be kidnapped for her as a birthday present. A rival from her time in a private high school. Poor girl. Mistress was a much better owner and trainer than her daughter. The young Miss’s pet didn’t even get a name, while Mistress could be gentle with her puppies when she felt they were behaving as dogs should.

As if prompted by Basima’s thoughts about how she treated puppy slaves, Mistress chose that moment to end her spell of silence. They were passing a clearing, so she took out a tennis ball and tossed it. “Fetch!”

Jason took off, with Basima following an instant later. Both of them dashed forward as quick as they could on their hands and knees. Basima stumbled a little as she moved, distracted as she was by the possibility that Mistress would punish her for hesitating. Dogs didn’t hesitate to play fetch, they just ran.

It was no surprise when Jason was first to the ball. Since he couldn’t pick it up with that ring gag in his mouth, he just started batting it back in Mistress’s direction with the paw-shaped mitts that kept his hands useless. But he didn’t get far without facing opposition.

“Woof!” Basima cried out when she stopped in front of him, doing her best to simulate the barking cry of an animal. Then she yapped at him some more, challenging him for the ball.

Jason growled back, his voice rumbling low in his throat as he made a show of trying to get Basima to back off. She wasn’t sure if an actual dog would try and stop him, she had never owned a dog as a pet in her life, and had only ever seen a couple of them from a distance. Basima had a far better idea of how her owner expected a dog to behave than she did of how real dogs acted.

Basima lunged forward, trying to take the ball away from her fellow puppy-slave. Jason protected it by meeting her head on. The contest quickly shifted into a wrestling match, with both Jason and Basima struggling to knock the other onto their back long enough to get the ball and bring it back to Mistress.

Jason won, of course. Basima had a slight size advantage over him, but he had been a puppy much longer than Basima and had a lot more practice at moving around as one. He didn’t have too hard a time pushing her away and making off with the ball.

When Basima caught up, Jason was being pet and praised. Mistress had come down to her knees to rub her hands over his latex-covered body and coo at him for bringing the ball back like a good dog. It was quite a sight to see a man covered in that black material and a dog mask barking and moving all over a woman like that.

Basima knew what she had to do. The middle eastern puppy slave leapt forward with a tongue wagging out of her ring gag as she tried to lick at her Mistress, as a happy dog should.

Mistress Lydia was beautiful. Basima still hated herself for thinking that, but it was the truth. She was tall, fit, and carried herself with a distressingly alluring level of confidence that Basima admired as much as she was intimidated by it. It didn’t help that she was wearing workout clothes, a pair of tight yoga pants and a loose shirt that revealed the sports bra underneath. And as Basima jumped at her, she laughed.

“Good girl,” she said with a grin and a mocking glint in her eye. That was always there. Lydia Greenwood’s act of treating her human captives like they were simple animals never went away, but there was always that look in her eye to make it clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. This woman was evil, not insane.

Still, even though she knew her sadistic owner was only acting, Basima felt heat rise in her cheeks. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but be relieved when Lydia offered praise or showed her that condescending pseudo-affection. She supposed that was one other improvement to being a puppy over a maid. Maids didn’t get praised. They did as they were told, or they were punished.

A minute later, Mistress threw the ball again and the game repeated itself. Then again, and a fourth time, and beyond. Basima even managed to get the ball first once. She was ashamed of how proud of that she was. It was rare for her to best Jason at any sort of puppy behavior.

Mistress held up the ball, getting ready to throw one more time, when she stopped and turned. When Basima looked, she saw Miss Samantha making her way over on the walkpath. She wore stylish looking jeans and a black top with open sleeves. A pair of ankles boots with low-ish heels adorned her feet.

“There you are,” Samantha said when she was close enough to be heard. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Hello dear,” replied Mistress Lydia. Her throwing arm came to her side. Jason immediately tried to jump at it, with Basima following a second later when she remembered she should still be focusing on the ball.

“No, sit.” Mistress’s command was sharp. The sheer force of her glare felt like a slap to the face and Basima didn’t hesitate to obey, falling into a sitting position next to Jason. Mistress’s critical eye swept over them both. “Good dogs.” She turned back to her daughter. “Is there something you need?”

Samantha folded her arms. “I want to get rid of my dog,” she huffed.

Basima’s eyes went wide. She looked at Mistress. Only part of her face was visible from Basima’s spot on the ground, but her exasperation was obvious.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t do that, mother. You heard what I said.”

“I was hoping I misheard you.”

“Ugh,” Samantha rolled her eyes and turned away. She had never been able to wither her mother’s stare for long. Few in the household could. “You were right, okay? Keeping a dog was more work than I thought it would be and I don’t want to do it anymore just like you said I wouldn’t. There, happy?”

The family resemblance came into sharp focus when Mistress folded her own arms. “No, Samantha. As a matter of fact, I’m not happy at all. Acquiring her was rather expensive.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t try to tell me buying the stupid bitch put a dent in our bank accounts. And besides, you can just sell her. That should get you the money back.”

“It won’t, actually. Acquiring and training a wholly new puppy is much more expensive than the sale of one that’s already been trained, poorly or otherwise.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Samantha glared at her mother, taking away from the resemblance. “You think I didn’t do a good job training her? It’s not my fault the dumb slut can’t hack it.”

Lydia’s ice-cold stare was a sharp contrast to her daughter’s heat.

“If she were half as stupid as you claim, she wouldn’t have adjusted to her new life as quickly as she did. She didn’t even have an older pup to serve as a role model.”

Basima chanced a glance at Jason. She saw him holding the same ramrod straight pose she was; and looking on with the same wide eyes. Even he couldn’t keep the act up all the time.

“Don’t give me that crap! You sound like the teachers praising her grades and extracurricular shit all the time. Dumb bitch thought she was so smart until I put her in her place.”

“You didn’t put here anywhere, Samantha. Your father and I bought her for you.”

“And I was the one who had to show her who was boss, since she started getting uppity and weepy as soon as she saw me.”

“She would have understood her place much more quickly if you had bothered to use positive reinforcement every once in a while, instead of taking every excuse to beat her.”

That seemed to be the breaking point. Samantha threw her hands up in the air turned away. “Oh my god, mother. You’re almost as bad as she was. I get it, you used to do this for a living and you’re better at it. You don’t have to rub it in my face.”

Lydia made as if to move forward, to go to her daughter. She stopped, collecting herself before she actually took a step. “I’m not competing with you, Samantha. I’m trying to teach you.”

Her daughter whipped back around. “I don’t need to be taught!” She practically snarled, her face twisted with anger. “I can handle slaves fine; I just don’t want to have to deal with puppies or ponies. I’m not as into the animal thing as you and daddy are, or as much as I thought I would be, alright? So just get rid of her.”

“No.”

Samantha reeled back in shock. In all her twenty years, ‘no’ was not a word she had heard very often. It took her a good few seconds to react to hearing it now.

“Seriously!?” Her voice was shrill. It stabbed at Basima’s ears and made her wince. “You’re actually going to make me keep her?”

“No, I’m going to keep her for myself.”

There was another stunned silence. Samantha gaped open-mouthed at her mother, who looked right back with that damnable calm of hers. “Unbelievable.”

“And when you want her again in a few weeks, I won’t give her back.”

“Unbelievable!”

Mistress scoffed. “It would hardly be out of character for you to change your mind like that, dear.”

“I don’t have to take this. You want the bitch? Fine, have her. She’s in her kennel in my room right now. I’m going swimming.” And then she was storming off, her feet dropping heavy on the ground in a way that made Basima think of a toddler.

“That girl.” Lydia sighed when her daughter was out of earshot. “Unbelievable.”

The next silence was contemplative as Mistress watched her daughter vanish from sight.

Basima looked to Jason again. For once, he was looking back. One confused set of eyes met another. Neither of them was sure what to do. The entire conversation had been surreal. It almost seemed normal, in a way, to listen to a mother and her young adult child fight like that. One could almost forget just what they had been fighting about.

The poor black haired dog Samantha kept was shy as could be. She was probably the most harshly treated slave in the household. The young Miss was not a kind Mistress on the best of days, every maid had plenty of personal experience with the torments she could come up with when she was bored, but her nameless puppy was someone she personally knew and hated. She got to have Samantha's personal attention every day of the week. With that in mind, Basima was genuinely happy for her. Mistress Lydia would treat her much better.

Mistress let out another sigh. She returned her attention to the puppy slaves at her feet and knelt down to address them. One hand reached over to pet Jason, the other made its way to scratch behind Basima’s ear. Basima found herself leaning into it. “Well then. Baxter. Princess. It looks like your little pack is about to get a new member. How does that sound?”

“Aarf!” Jason yipped.

“Woof!” Basima barked.

“Good dogs,” she smiled at them. “Now you both know how shy your friend can be, so I know you’ll both help her come out of her shell once I start training her properly. Come along now. Heel!”

She stood and began marching back in the direction they came. Her puppy slaves crawled behind her as ordered. Basima kept her focus on moving, but she still heard Mistress speak one more time under her breath.

“Now what to name her…?”

You can read about a previous Morning Walk at the Greenwood Estate here.

And you can read about Mrs. Greenwood taking her newest puppy for an Evening Walk here.