Ava – Part 2 – Morning’s Aftermath

Jacob Wainscott’s study was an opulent cathedral of modern comfort flavored by rich artwork. The Wainscott mansion was a frame of stone, glass, wood and steel occupying the mid-coast sky as if it had been formed by nature. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Pacific Ocean beyond, the sea’s blue expanse reflecting the horizon and Ava’s own blue eyes, bloodshot from her previous throat-fucked lack of oxygen. Deeply traumatized and exhausted after the morning’s activities, Ava’s head rested on Isabella’s knee as she lay curled at the feet of the gorgeous brunette. The morning had been explosive and humiliating. She had been forced to please a woman. She had been raped by a dog. She was debased and dehumanized. She was desperate, and she was owned.

Isabella reclined upon Jacob’s strong form. King sprawled, self-satisfied, on the rug at Jacob’s feet. For a while, the four of them rested together like that. Ava held on to Isabella like the last hope of a drowning woman in a storm, desperate for comfort. Her young and beautiful body curled, drawn into itself, craving emotional support after her physical and mental trials. After a while, Isabella rose from the sofa in Jacob’s study. Her movements were like a blade being unsheathed. Her body, still slick with sweat and the mingled scent of her own sex. King’s musk still filled the room, his cum covering Ava’s body gleamed under the pendant lights.

Isabella strode across the floor to Jacob’s desk. Her stilettos—obsidian patent leather, six-inch spikes—clicked against the floor like a metronome treading Ava’s dignity. On the desk was a leash. She lifted it, its silver chain catching the light as it fell between her fingers. Ava watched Isabella’s movements from her curled position, her shoulders hunched as if to shield herself from the inevitable.

Snap.

The sound of the clasp locking onto Ava’s collar reverberated through her mind. A quick jerk of the chain pulled up Ava’s head. Her throat convulsed around the sudden tension, the stiff leather collar, dipped in Ava’s own sweat and King’s cum abraded her skin. A whimper escaped her lips before she could clamp them shut. Isabella crouched, her hand cupping Ava’s jaw with a brutality that masqueraded as intimacy.

“That’s enough rest, my little pet. It’s time to get you cleaned up, you filthy thing.” With that Isabella stood, “Heel, ” she purred, her voice a serrated thing. “Crawl beside me, like a good dog. Let’s see if your knees can learn how to beg. That’s a good girl.”

Ava was pulled forward onto her hands and knees. Her body shuddered from exhaustion, from fear, from shame and from cold. Her hands hit the floor and then her knees followed, the impact jolting her spine. She crawled to Isabella’s left side, dragged there by the leash. Her eyes were fixed on the still naked brunette’s calves—they were firm and fit and perfect, the muscles taut like bowstrings. The leash tugged, a silent command to follow. Isabella’s form was still beautiful and elegant, her skin flawless and tanned. Her shape was perfect. She walked with indomitable confidence.

Isabella led Ava through the mansion’s labyrinth: past the formal staircase, down the corridor where holographic art flickered like dying stars, through the atrium where a koi pond lay still as a corpse. The wooden floor gave way to polished basalt tiles in the hallway leading to the kennel room, their surface cold and slick as ice. Ava’s knees skidded, her thighs trembling under the strain of keeping up with Isabella and holding her head high enough to avoid choking on the collar. Ava felt herself small and unimportant amidst all of the grandeur that she had taken for granted.

Her body was a map of wounds. King’s cock had ravaged her cunt into a raw, throbbing wound—each crawl sent fresh rivulets of his cum seeping from her depths, warm and viscous. She was humiliated to feel it running from her. There was so much. Her vaginal walls pulsed with pain, the stretched muscles twitching, trying to reject the memory of the massive dog’s invasion. The bruises inside her vagina bloomed like ink stains beneath her skin, making her every move tender. Her throat, meanwhile, felt hollowed out, a cavern of raw nerve endings. Swallowing triggered a spasm of agony. Her esophagus was still distended from King’s relentless fucking. She felt the movement of her own young and shapely breasts as she crawled, still painful from Isabella’s abuse.

King happily paced alongside Ava as she was led through the house. He was perfectly content having his bitch led on all fours at the end of a leash as she should be.

The kennel room was a chamber of clinical precision. King’s enclosure—a matte-black cube with mesh panels and a memory-foam cushion—gleamed under UV lights. When they arrived, King went directly to his kennel He lay down and curled, his golden eyes tracking Ava’s humiliation with canine interest. The utility shower stood adjacent, its walls of frosted glass etched with geometric patterns. An adjustable bar hung from the ceiling like a gallows, its chains glinting. Usually it held King while he was bathed. Now it would hold Ava.

Isabella unhooked the leash and reattached it to the bar’s chain, then cranked the lever. The bar ascended, forcing Ava to stand and then rise onto her tiptoes. Isabella adjusted it higher, her free hand gripping Ava’s hip to steady her as the collar bit into her trachea. Ava’s neck and shoulders screamed from the strain of keeping her head elevated. The cum wet collar bit into the already chaffed skin of Ava’s neck, skin that had been rubbed raw from the pressure of King’s dick repeatedly forcing it’s way through Ava’s throat, distending it tightly against Ava’s collar. Isabella stood back, admiring the damaged beauty of the young blonde woman, her innocent face, her amazingly narrow waist, her perfectly tight ass, her upturned breasts, the strain of her slender neck pulled upward by the chain, and the stretch of the girls long shapely legs. All covered by slick sexual juices. Dog cum still covered the girl’s face, her hair, her mouth, her breasts, her flat tummy, and dripped down her legs. Such a delicious sight. Isabella stepped up to her.

“You’re trembling, ” Isabella murmured, her breath hot against Ava’s ear. “Is it the pain? The shame? Or do you ache to be taken again...and again...and again?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. The shower erupted, the water scalding—cruelly hot. It scoured Ava’s skin, turning her shoulders pink, her back lobster-red. Feeling the heat, Ava screamed, “It’s too hot! It’s too hot!” Ava helplessly tried to avoid the spray, her thin body dangled, held in place by the collar attached to the chain.

Isabella said, “Hush. You need to be disinfected you filthy thing. You can’t expect to degrade yourself like that and not be cleaned, can you? This part won’t take long. Hush.” Isabella sprayed her body. Eventually, Isabella pressed a button on the sprayer and it shut off.

Isabella poured an expensive shampoo onto Ava’s head and massaged the soap into her long, blonde hair. Ava felt her fingers cleaning her. “There now. You see. It’s not all bad. You like being cleaned.”

“Spread your legs, ” Isabella then commanded.

Ava did her best to obey, her thighs quivering as she reached further onto her toes. Isabella’s fingers pushed into her cunt, two knuckles deep, scrubbing her like a butcher cleans a carcass. Ava gasped, her hips jerking forward—but the collar yanked her back, the chain rattling, an audible expression of Ava’s position.

“Such a filthy girl, ” Isabella chided, her voice dripping honey and poison. “King’s seed is still clinging to you. Do you like being his cumdump? How does it make you feel? Does it make you feel... owned?”

Ava’s clit throbbed under Isabella’s ministrations, a traitorous pulse of arousal that shamed her more than the violation. The dominant woman withdrew her fingers, then pinched one of Ava’s nipples hard between thumb and forefinger, twisting until tears spilled down Ava’s cheeks.

“Look at me, ” Isabella ordered.

Ava lifted her eyes to the mirror above the shower. Isabella’s reflection was a goddess’s—her body flawless, her expression a mask of serene control. Ava’s own face was a ruin: lips chapped, eyes bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with mascara and tears. King’s cum still clung to her face and matted her hair.

Isabella leaned closer, her free hand cupping Ava’s throat. “You’ll never be clean enough, though. You are a thief, and you are a dog’s bitch.” she whispered. “But we will see what we can make of you.”

Isabella then washed Ava’s entire body. She soaped her, washed her hair, cleaned her completely. When she was rinsed, the water was cooler, a mercy Ava hadn’t earned. Isabella toweled her off with brisk efficiency, her hands rough on Ava’s shoulders, tender on her face. When she dried Ava’s cunt, her thumb brushed the clitoris—a fleeting, almost gentle caress that left Ava trembling.

Isabella reattached the leash to Ava’s collar and released her from the bar holding her upright.

“Kneel, ” Isabella said, dropping the towel. “Place your hands behind your back.”

Ava slid down the wall, her back scraping the glass of the shower. Once again, Ava faced Isabella’s sex, like a biting inside joke, the memory of her tongue and mouth so recently having made the woman come to a shuddering orgasm was held closely in her mind. Isabella petted Ava’s head for a moment before she stepped away from her, her stiletto heels clicking like a countdown. At the door, she paused.

“Don’t move, ” she said. “Don’t breathe without my permission. As you are now aware, we know everything that happens in our house.”

The door hissed shut. Ava knelt, her hands clasped behind her back, the collar’s chain glinting in the fluorescent light. King’s eyes remained fixed on her, his tail thumping once against the cushion. Somewhere in the mansion, Ava heard Isabella laugh—a low, resonant sound that echoed through the glass like a promise.

Ava’s body ached, her soul hollowed. Yet beneath the pain, a truth coiled like a serpent: she would kill to hear Isabella call her “Good girl” again.

Ava remained kneeling for several minutes before the door to the Kennel Room opened again. Isabella had covered her own body with a silky, form fitting white robe and had removed her high heels, her exquisite feet barefoot. Ava looked up. Isabella stood in the threshold, her silhouette sharp against the hallway’s amber glow. Ava felt so small. Involuntarily she shrank back, her spine pressed against the shower glass, her damp hair clinging to her forehead like a penitent’s shroud. Her hands were still clasped behind her.

“Up, ” Isabella commanded, as she grabbed Ava’s leash and flicked it. “We’ve lingered long enough. It’s time for you to relieve yourself.” Despite the humiliation, Ava indeed felt relieved at Isabella’s words. Her tummy was filled with King’s sperm and felt the pressure inside. That along with the hot water of the shower was building pressure on her bladder. She had to pee very badly. King’s sperm was processing into her bladder and filling her. Isabella led Ava on her leash to the bathroom. King followed them. When they arrived, King sat down against the wall, watching Ava.

The bathroom tiles were a mosaic of obsidian and alabaster, their cold geometries biting into Ava’s knees as Isabella dragged the chain downward, forcing her into a crouch before the porcelain throne. The air smelled of lemon disinfectant and dominance.

“Sit. Kneel properly over the toilet, ” Isabella commanded of Ava, she tapped her toes expectantly “Spread your legs. Don’t soil yourself by being inefficient.”

Ava trembled, her thighs quivering apart, the raw flesh of her cunt grazing the ceramic. “Please, ” she rasped, voice still hoarse from King’s abuse. “I can’t—I can’t do this with you watching...and with him...” Ava nodded toward King.

Isabella’s laugh was a blade sheathed in velvet. “Watching? Darling, I’m not watching. I’m supervising.” She knelt, her breath ghosting over Ava’s ear. “You see, puppies like you don’t get privacy. They get obedience. And you, my little thief”—her fingers dug into Ava’s hip, nails leaving half-moons—“you proved you’re not worthy of privacy when you stole from us. When you get privacy, you abuse that luxury, you little bitch.”

“I won’t—I swear— I have learned my lesson!” Ava pleaded.

“Shh.” Isabella’s finger pressed against Ava’s lips. “Save your breath for the task. This is your one chance. Besides, I can have King do more than watch if you need to be motivated.”

The mention of the dog’s name broke her. Ava hung her head, and then let her bladder release. It let go in a hot rush, the sound echoing in the toilet. Heat of humiliation flooded her cheeks. Isabella tutted.

“So eager to mark your territory? How bestial of you.” She stood, yanking Ava’s hair to force her face upward. “Look at me while you finish. Let’s see how much of a lady you think you are.”

Ava’s eyes swam with tears as she met Isabella’s green eyes—a goddess smirking down at a ruin. When it ended, Isabella yanked the girl by the hair toward the bidet beside the toilet, its polished bowl gleaming like an alter upon which Ava’s dignity was being sacrificed.

“Straddle it, ” Isabella said, yanking Ava upright by the collar. “Face the mirror. I want you to watch yourself get cleaned.”

Ava obeyed, knees spread wide over the bidet’s rim, her raw cunt lips brushing the cold porcelain. Isabella’s manicured finger jabbed a button; a jet of water erupted between Ava’s legs, sharp enough to make her gasp.

“Look at you, ” Isabella purred, her hand pressing Ava’s back until her reflection contorted into a grotesque parody of submission. “Eyes wide. Lips parted. You’re practically panting for it.”

“It’s too cold—” Ava whimpered.

“Shh. This isn’t for your pleasure. It’s to remind you that every part of you belongs to me now. Even your shame.” Isabella swatted Ava’s tight, perfect ass as she released the button for the bidet. King watched his new bitch as she relieved herself and was cleaned afterward.

“Come, ” Isabella instructed Ava, pulling on her leash. The naked girl followed Isabella on hands and knees. Not questioning. Not resisting. Isabella led her down the corridor to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a gallery of contradictions—midnight-blue cabinetry beneath gilded Renaissance frescoes, a marble island veined like a corpse’s limbs. King trotted ahead, tail high, his paws silent on the heated limestone floor. Ava crawled behind, the leash jerking her forward whenever she faltered.

Isabella led Ava over to King’s dog bowls. Ava watched as Isabella opened the refrigerator and scraped some of King’s food into one of the bowls. The food was gourmet for a dog, privately cooked, but still dog food. Isabella then commanded to Ava, “Eat. You need to keep up your strength.” Ava balked at the command. She couldn’t eat...dog food! She just couldn’t.

“Look at her, King, ” Isabella said, her voice honeyed with cruelty. “Our little puppy thinks she’s too good for your bowls. Tell her, boy.”

King growled low in his throat, a sound like boulders grinding together, his golden eyes fixed on Ava with feral possessiveness. Isabella knelt beside his feeding station—The food smelled of boiled tripe and liver.

“Eat, ” Isabella said, pressing Ava’s head until her lips brushed the edge of the food bowl. “And don’t pretend you’re above it. You’ve already proven you’ll steal what isn’t yours. Let’s see if you’ve the decency to beg a dog for scraps instead. Do you think you know the meaning of punishment? If you don’t do what I command, you will learn the definition of the word pain. Do not doubt me.”

Tears once again filled Ava’s eyes. She was exhausted and humiliated. And...she was also hungry. Ava’s stomach churned as she scooped a handful of King’s dog food. “Not like that, you stupid bitch. Like a dog. Eat it with your mouth, not your hands.” Ava, submissively, leaned over the metal dog bowl, her young naked breasts swaying. She dipped her tongue into the dog slop. The food was strong and meaty and bitter. It tasted of humiliation and regret. She gagged, swallowed. Then she did it again. Through the process King snarled, his muzzle wrinkling as Ava dipped her face time and again into his bowl.

“Enough, ” Isabella snapped at King, her foot striking the floor like a guillotine’s drop. “She’s eating your food because I said so. You’ll share. Or I’ll give your little plaything to some pack to use.”

King harrumphed, tail thumping once, but lay down with a resentful glare. Ava chewed slowly, the food coating her tongue, her throat rebelling with every swallow. Tears streaked her cheeks, not from sorrow but the sheer weight of her own degradation.

“Now drink, ” Isabella instructed the girl, pulling her toward King’s water bowl. You need your voice and you need the water. Ava’s throat, desperately needing water, sucked the water from bowl, drinking nearly all of it.”

Isabella then pulled something from her robe pocket. It was Ava’s phone. “Do you see what I have, Ava?” she asked teasingly. “It’s time to make a call. Call your mother. Tell her the Wainscotts have deigned to take you on. Full-time. A live-in position.” Her smile was a serrated thing. “And don’t you dare leave out how thrilled you are.”

Ava’s fingers trembled as the phone rang on speaker phone. Three times. Then, her mother picked upon the telephone, “Ava!! It’s so nice to hear from you! How was the job? I can’t wait to hear all about it! Were Mr. and Mrs. Wainscott pleased with you? Did you take care of them and their dog, King?” Ava’s eyes closed at the irony.

“Mom.” Ava’s voice cracked. “I—I have news.”

Her mother paused before saying, “Well, spit it out! You know I hate waiting.”

“The Wainscotts... they’re offering me a job. A real one. I’ll be living here.” She looked at Isabella. “I’m so excited, ” she stammered.

A beat of silence. There was a moment of anticipation. Ava’s heart leaped with the hope that her mother would deny her, would tell her that she needed to come back home, tell her that she was to young to leave home. But then, bright and brittle: “How lovely! I always knew that you’d find your place in the world. I can just imagine! You get to stay in that gorgeous house! Oh, and the parties! You’ll finally have the life you’ve always deserved. Will you need to come by and get some of your clothes and things?”

Isabella spoke up, “Mrs. Thomson, this is Isabella Wainscott, ” her voice like poisoned honey to Ava’s ears, “Ava won’t need attire or personal items from home. She will be provided a wardrobe suitable for her position and her life here.”

“OH! Mrs. Wainscott! I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for Ava! Of course, of course! I’m sure that you will be able to provide more suitable clothes for her than what we have here, ” Ava’s mother replied. “I just hope that she will work hard to please you.”

The words landed like slaps. Isabella plucked the phone from Ava’s hand, her voice caressed it. “Ms. Thompson. Your daughter’s... enthusiasm for her new role is touching. Though she has a long way to go. It will be a lot of work and In some ways, she’s hardly worth the trouble, but we will give her a try.”

Ava stared at the floor, her mother’s laughter tinkling through the receiver like shattered glass.

“But you strike me as someone who knows how to shape a girl, ” Ms. Thompson said. “I would really like to meet you and Mr. Wainscott and see where Ava will be working if that is possible.”

“Of course, Ms. Thompson, ” Isabella smiled. “We would be delighted to receive you. Give us a week so we can develop Ava. Won’t you come next Saturday to have tea with us? By that time, Ava should be somewhat trained in her position, and you can watch her work.”

“That will be perfect. I will be there Saturday. I’d love to see her in action. Maybe she’ll serve me tea—if you think that she has progressed to your standards.”

Ava flinched, her fingers digging into the marble countertop. Isabella’s lips curled into a smile sharp enough to flay skin. “Oh, we’re shaping her, ” she purred. “Molding her into something... useful.”

“She’s always been a sensitive girl.” Mrs. Thompson continued, oblivious. “You will find that sometimes, she needs clear boundaries. She can be eager to please, but sometimes... too eager. She’ll work herself to the bone if you let her, I’m sure. Just don’t let her get carried away. That’s how accidents happen.”

“Accidents?” Isabella arched a brow, her free hand trailing down Ava’s naked and trembling spine. “Oh, I don’t worry about accidents. Not when Ava’s... passionate nature is so... manageable. And your right. She is good at working a bone.”

“Oh, she’s passionate, all right!” Mrs. Thompson laughed, a brittle, ringing sound. “She’s always been...and curious. She needs someone to show her how things work. The right way. A real woman’s touch, if you know what I mean. Someone who can teach her the ropes.”

Ava’s breath hitched. Isabella’s nails dug into her shoulder, her voice dripping honeyed venom. “Ropes? What a wonderful idea. We’ll be teaching her. Every day. She’s learning what it means to serve. To obey. To follow instructions.”

“Good, ” Ms. Thompson replied. “But if she doesn’t apply herself, just crack the whip. That’ll make her jump!”

Laughing despite herself, Isabella replied, “Yes. I will make sure to crack the whip, and often. It’s such a good idea. I will remind her that it was your idea.”

“She just needs... structure. I’ve always enjoyed her, though. I’m confident that she will be a good companion.”

A beat. Isabella’s laugh was a silver dagger. “A companion, yes. We’ve found she’s... exceptional at that role. Particularly with King. Such a... devoted companion.”

“King!” Mrs. Thompson trilled. “Oh, Ava adores dogs! Always has! She’ll just eat them up if you let her. But don’t let her get too attached, mind you. She can get stuck on a dog. She’s... needy that way.”

“Attached?” Isabella’s thumb brushed Ava’s throat, her grip tightening. “Oh, she’s attached to King. Very. I’ve noticed that they can be stuck together. But don’t worry—we’ll make sure she remembers who owns her...loyalty.”

“Oh, good! I’d hate for her to misplace her affections.” Mrs. Thompson sighed. “You know, she’s always been fearful of big dogs. She can be nervous around them. They’ve always made a big impression on her. But you’ve got such a strong hand. I’m sure you’ll help her overcome her fears. Show her that some things are meant to be mastered.”

“Mastered, ” Isabella repeated, savoring the word. “Yes. We will work on that. Every day. She’s... progressing. Slowly.”

“Well, she’s a quick learner, darling! Always has been. She just needs someone to guide her. Someone who can show her the pleasures of a well disciplined life.”

Ava choked back a sob. Isabella leaned closer to the phone, her voice a velvet whip. “Oh, she’s learning the benefits. And the costs. I’m sure you’ll see it for yourself Saturday. She’ll serve you tea—if she’s earned the privilege. And if she hasn’t...”

“If she hasn’t?” Mrs. Thompson gasped, delighted. “Well, then, you’ll just have to correct her, won’t you? And if you don’t, I will. I will make sure that she does a good job for you.”

“How delightful, ” Isabella said, her smile widening. “But we’ll make sure she’s presentable for you. If she’s developed far enough, she’ll serve you as our maid. If not...” She paused, her nails scraping a line down Ava’s collarbone. “Well. Some girls just need to be reminded of their station.”

“Darling, she’ll be perfect, ” Ms. Thompson declared. “She’s exactly where she belongs. I can feel it. I will see you Saturday.”

The line went dead. Ava remained frozen, the phone’s plastic casing sweating beneath her palm. Isabella tossed it aside, her laughter echoing off the marble as she picked up the leash at Ava’s collar and whispered:

“See, pet? Even your mother knows that you are where you belong.” King growled low, tail thumping once against the floor. “Now. Even though it’s still early, it’s time for you to get some rest. I’m sure that you are exhausted and this week is going to be very busy for you.”

Ava assumed that she would be led to her bedroom overlooking the Pacific. She definitely needed sleep. Instead, she was led back to the Kennel Room. When they entered there was a second large kennel there. It didn’t have a cushion in it like King’s, but there was an old, clean blanket inside. Ava wondered where the kennel had come from. Isabella led Ava to the cage and placed her into it. Ava realized that she was to sleep inside the kennel. Her crystalline blue eyes looked up to Isabella. Isabella shut the cage door and locked it.

Isabella knelt and said, “Now be a good girl. Curl up and go to sleep. I will come get you later.” She turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Ava lay down and covered herself with the blanket. The floor was cold, and she was cold. She shivered as she cried herself to sleep reflecting on the new life that was now hers to live.

She dreamed that she had died. She dreamed that in the afterlife, Isabella was straddling her head. Her sex smothered Ava’s mouth with wet, womanly slickness as she writhed in pain as her nipples were tortured by Isabella’s fingers. She felt humiliated and helpless. And Ava was confused as to whether she was in Heaven or was in Hell.