Laurel's Ordeal
                                ===============

      Laurel jumped to her knees as soon as she heard Takashiru's
Mazda sportscar pulling into the garage. Hastily she spread her
thighs, sat on her heels, jutted out her breasts, pressed her chin
on her chest and clasped her chained hands behind her neck. If her
master found anything less than perfect in the required position of
submission and disgrace when he came to her, the punishment would
be severe. A number of cigarette burns around her nipples testified
to this.
      She was kneeling on the wooden floor of the back porch,
completely naked, save for her leather collar and the wide leather
cuffs on her wrists and ankles. A long silver-toned chain, jingling
and shining in the summer sun, attached her collar to a corner post
of the porch. Next to her sat a pair of plastic dog pans, one
containing a few crackers and chunks of celery and carrot, the
other holding some water. Her name was written in red paint on the
side of both pans.
      She took a few deep breaths and quietly prepared herself for
the routine afternoon beating. Over the past week this had
developed into a kind of daily ritual, so that Takashiru could
release the tensions from work by mercilessly abusing his
slavegirl's naked body. On a normal day, Laurel knew, he would
storm into the porch within seconds after arriving home, dropping
his expensive suit, tie and Italian shoes all the way from the
garage to the back door.
      But things were different today. More than ten minutes after
Laurel heard the garage door close, her master still had not come
out. Instead, she heard footsteps running up and down the stairs,
and a girl's cheerful giggles and exaggerated screams filling the
house, interrupted now and then by Takashiru's roaring laughters.
      He had told Laurel this morning that he would bring his
girlfriend over after work. Apparently he had kept his words.
      A few more minutes passed. Just when Laurel was beginning to
wonder whether she would be spared of the routine torment today,
the glass door slid open, and a girl's bare legs bounced into her
sight.
      "Ha! I found her!" the girl shouted gleefully. "Come here
quick, Takashiru; she's waiting for you!"
      Keeping her head down, Laurel stole a glance at the girl from
the corners of her eyes. She was a petite oriental girl with a cute
round face, about the same age as Laurel, clad in nothing but a
white cotton shirt. The open front of the shirt seductively
revealed much more than it hid.
      Takashiru emerged from the house, wearing only his boxer
shorts.
      "All right, Sumiko, you win," he mocked a sigh. "There goes my
last little secret. Anyway, I hope you like my new slavegirl. Her
name is Laurel, by the way. Aren't you happy to see me, Laurel?"
      The kneeling slavegirl knew exactly what was expected. Without
a word, she walked up to him on her knees, and bent down to kiss
him on both feet.
      "Good girl," Takashiru patted Laurel on her blond head, "now
show your respect to the lady."
      Obediently, Laurel turned to Sumiko, and pressed her lips
lightly on each of the girl's bare feet.
      "Oh how sweet!" Sumiko exclaimed. Leaning on Takashiru's
shoulder, she lifted Laurel's chin with her toes. "And pretty, too.
Where did you find her, Takashiru?"
      "At the state college; where else can you find beautiful young
chicks who would work for peanuts? The state just raised the fees
by thirty percent this year, and these girls are getting desperate
for cash. For a few thousand bucks, they'll do anything for you."
      "Anything, huh?"
      "Yeah. Watch this."
      Takashiru detached the chain from Laurel's collar, and kicked
a slipper into the back yard.
      "Go get it, Laurel!" he yelled.
      After spending a week with Takashiru, such degrading treatment
had become quite natural for Laurel. She jumped from the porch on
all fours, and crawled to the target as fast as the chains between
her wrists and ankles allowed. But before she was half way across
the lawn, a large German Shepherd suddenly darted out from the
house and raced towards the slipper. Startled and petrified, Laurel
watched with wide eyes as the dog picked up the slipper between its
teeth, ran back to Sumiko and dropped it by her feet.
      Takashiru and Sumiko almost choked in laughter. When Laurel
crawled back to the porch in total humiliation, Sumiko commented
breathlessly: "Well, Takashiru, looks like I've got a better puppy
dog than yours."
      The German Shepherd, meanwhile, was getting rather restless.
It circled around Laurel several times, and then trotted towards
Sumiko to rub its thick fur on her legs, growling in its throat and
looking up pleadingly at her face.
      Sumiko immediately realized the dog's intention. Her face
blushed slightly, looking rather embarrassed. "No, Morgan!" she
slapped the dog lightly on the head. "No way! No! Sit! Sit, Morgan!
Bad boy! Bad bad boy!"
      "What's with Morgan?" Takashiru looked at his girlfriend, and
then at her dog, curiously.
      "My brother spoiled him too much," Sumiko giggled. "There was
this hooker that my brother used to bring home all the time, a
blonde like this girl. And my brother used to let Morgan...you
know, when mating season came."
      Stars of evil began to twinkle in Takashiru's dark eyes. With
a wide grin he murmured: "Hm... Now that's not a bad idea."
      The chains jingled, and Takashiru turned to find the nude
slavegirl curled up in a corner of the porch. Shaking slightly, she
crossed her hands in front of her chest, and pulled her legs up
against her belly.
      "Hey, watch it, slave!" Takashiru wielded his fist in Laurel's
face. "You are not keeping your position!"
      "Please...don't..." Laurel pleaded in a small, trembling
voice.
      "Don't what?"
      "The dog...please, master..."
      "Well, when you agreed to be my sex slave, I did tell you I'd
let my friends fuck you, didn't I?"
      "But...not a dog! You never said anything about a dog!" Laurel
was almost in tears.
      "So what? See, Sumiko is my girlfriend, right? Morgan is her
dog, right? So Morgan is also a friend of mine, isn't he?"
Takashiru grinned triumphantly, apparently quite proud of his
quick-wit logic.
      Knowing the futility of arguing with him, Laurel simply hugged
herself more tightly, and shook her head: "No."
      "OK, then." Takashiru waved a hand in the air, as if throwing
off the idea. "Like I said before, you have the right to call this
whole thing off any time. If that's what you want, just stand up
and say it. You are free to leave, and the deal is off."
      Watching Laurel blinking her eyes in hesitation, he added with
an wicked smile: "But remember, Laurel, if you leave now, don't
expect me to pay you a penny."
      Laurel bit on her lip and wrestled hard with herself. This was
not the first time she had been confronted with the question. She
had had to force herself against the impulse to leave on the very
first night with Takashiru when, after a long and harsh whipping,
he chained her in the porch and made clear she was to stay there
for the whole summer, day and night. She had made the same
difficult choice when Takashiru lent her to a neighbor's kids for
an afternoon of "horsy-back riding." This time, once again, the
realistic concerns of her financial needs won over what was left of
her sense of dignity.
      Quietly, she returned to the kneeling position, and kissed her
master on the feet.
      "Now that's my slavegirl!" Takashiru planted a loud kiss on
her bare back, and then slapped her on the butt. "OK, sweet cunt,
go get ready for the show. Move it!"
      Fighting back her tears, Laurel positioned herself on all
fours in the center of the porch. Immediately, the German Shepherd
trotted up and started rubbed itself on different parts of her
body, growling loudly and happily.
      Goosebumps appeared all over Laurel's skin.
      Takashiru sat down in a swing-chair a few feet from the
mismatched pair, and pulled Sumiko towards him: "Come sit here,
dear. It's -- show time!"
      Letting her shirt slide down her shoulders and drop to the
floor, the oriental girl bent down to press a soft kiss on her
lover's cheek,
      "Their show," she asked in a seductive voice, "or ours?"