BREEDING SLAVE (The Unexpurgated Version) by ALLAN ALDISS

Copyright Allan Aldiss

Downloaded from www.silvermoonbooks.com

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

CONTENTS

1 - I go to Arabia

2 - Taken to the harem

3 - Incarcerated in the harem

4 - Trained to perform before the Master

5 - Branded!

6 - Chosen by the Master

7 - Given away as a present

8 - Shorn!

9 - Looking like a dog

10- Kennelled!

11- Oh, the agony of being kept frustrated!

12- An Enforced Motherhood

13- In milk for my Mistress

14- Taken by a dog!

15- The Grand Performance

16- Some spectacular matings

17- Assessed for puppy breeding

18- A successful trial run

19- Mated for real

20- My own litter of puppies

21- Jealousy!

22- My friend's introduction to men

23- I am used to breed dwarfs

24- Under the heel of Alysha

25- Sold!

26- Stabled!

27- The Six-in-Hand

28- Put to the stallion

29- Freedom and recapture

30- Back with the Princess

1 - I GO TO ARABIA

Agreeing to go fly to Arabia was the worst thing I could possibly have done. I had absolutely no idea of the things that can happen to a woman over there. I can still hardly believe it.

If you had told me then that I, Sally Livingstone, a nineteen year old well educated and intelligent young Englishwoman, could be tricked and abused so easily and so diabolically, I would have laughed in your face.

I was a very pretty brunette, rather tall, willowy and, people said, graceful. I was also extremely naive and an orphan. One of this world's victims waiting to be hooked, that was me.

Despite my straight-laced upbringing, I am - or rather was - a fun-loving and lively person at heart. When at last I went to a local London university, I was fascinated as the real world, beyond the drawn curtains and prim lips and dull Victorian furniture of my aunt's semi-detached little house, began to dawn upon me.

Men! Romance! Escape from a dull life! All these suddenly seemed possible.

So, when a very handsome fellow student suddenly started to make a made a play for me, I was eager for love. When he said he was a Prince my heart melted.

Faisal was a charismatic young man, all light-brown face and dark hair and flashing teeth. He started to take me out every day. He was attentive and kind. I found myself falling more and more in love with him. When he asked to take photographs of me in my bikini, it seemed both exciting and natural. But he behaved with like a perfect gentleman, never attempting more than a chaste kiss. It was as if he was saving me for something - my honey moon!

I was thrilled when he told me, in hushed tones, that he was a close relative of the Ruler of his country, His Highness Sheik Said. The Sheik, he explained, might be only the ruler of a few hundred square miles of sand and one small town on the Gulf, but from under it came all this beautiful oil, gushing out twenty-four hours a day - something that had made him immensely wealthy ...

Nevertheless, despite the thought of all that money, I promised my Aunt that I would not marry the handsome young Faisal, and I didn't mean to, anyway not straight away. But it turned out, when I went with him to the airport to see him off for a short visit home, that he had everything ready at a registry office on our way.

"Unless I return married,' he explained sadly, 'they are going to choose a bride for me back home."

Choose a bride for him! I was overcome with jealousy.

"So come back with me - as my bride," he said persuasively. "We'll catch the evening plane to Arabia!"

He had even brought a ticket for me, as well as an Arab passport which, he said, described me as his wife. And he promised me an Arabian Nights honeymoon.

So what could I do but run away with him?

It was all so terribly romantic! A two month whirlwind courtship and a honeymoon in fascinating Arabia with a real live Prince!

Forgive me, if I seem to have behaved like a naive schoolgirl. Perhaps I did. But, if so I was to be cruelly punished for my behaviour, for it all quickly turned to bitterness - as you will see.

It was getting light again, when after a flight of several hours, travelling First Class, of course, we arrived. I had dozed for several hours on the journey, holding Faisal's hands, my head on his shoulder.

He had been so charming and attentive. And he looked so handsome. Oh how I had wished we had been alone! But now my honeymoon, our honeymoon together, was about to start.

I was very disappointed when he said that we must first go and pay our respects to his cousin the Ruler, but I soon found myself fascinated by the sight, sounds and smells of Arabia - and almost overcome by the sheer heat, as we were driven towards Sheik Said's palace. After crossing the bustling town we rolled across the desert for several hours before suddenly arriving at an area of green vegetation, of date palms and of open fields on which sheep grazed.

Then a high wall loomed up before us, shimmering like a mirage in the heat, patrolled by armed guards whom I now know to be Bedouin. The huge portals were thrown open for us - and as carefully closed behind us. At that moment I had my first twinge of doubt ...

Inside the imposing walls was a beautifully tended park surrounding a magnificent modern palace, painted white with green coloured roofs. It was built in the oriental style with arched arabesque tracery over the windows making it impossible to see in - or, for that matter, for anyone inside to climb out.

Another twinge - but I knew that Faisal, my Prince Charming, would protect me from all danger.

The whole park was dotted with high palm trees, eucalyptus, and cedars, just like a dream come true. What a place for a honeymoon! I snuggled up to Faisal, but felt him draw away a little ... I was rather dismayed, but I soon forgot that as we were led along a corridor and past several courtyards with tinkling fountains and beautiful flowers.

The sun shone on brilliantly coloured tiles, and then everything dimmed as we were ushered into the Palace itself by huge bowing black guards in exotically coloured uniforms: perhaps Faisal was as nervous as I at the thought of meeting the Sheik.

We walked through echoing halls of marble and through several large rooms, each more sumptuous than the one before. Priceless rugs were scattered everywhere, antique weapons hung from the walls, and the high vaulted ceilings were decorated in what I now know to be the oriental style.

I noticed with some astonishment that a tiny dwarf-like figure was running across the room, pointing at me and laughing like an old fashioned court jester.

However I had no time to spare for him, for trembling in my shoes by now, I found myself facing an ottoman upon which an elderly stern-faced man with a long grey beard was sitting cross-legged. This imposing figure was dressed in spotless white Arab dress. It was covered in a very fine black cloak edged with gold, and a white Arab head-dress with golden cords round it completed a picture of genuine royalty.

He was eagerly looking me up and down and comparing me with a photograph he was holding in her hand. Astonished, I recognised as one that Faisal had taken of me in my bikini.

To my consternation, Faisal now fell to his knees, gesturing to me to do the same.

After a momentary hesitation I did so. Then, as I felt the Sheik's stern gaze boring through my scalp, I could not help blushing even as my eyes fixed themselves on his ornate golden slippers. I thought of those dark piercing eyes and shivered as I knelt there, not daring to look up at him.

I could hear the Sheik and Faisal whispering to each other in Arabic - apparently discussing me! Then the Sheik said aloud and Faisal stood up and pulled me to my feet. He was looking very pleased.

"His Highness hopes that you will be happy in his country," Faisal translated.

I looked into those piercing eyes and tried to smile, but it was a very feeble effort. The Sheik stared grimly back and spoke again.

"He ... he ..." Faisal was at a loss. His voice quivered. "He, er ... likes you."

The Sheik spoke again, the hint of a threat in his voice.

"And he wishes to inform you," continued Faisal in a subdued voice, "that now that you are married to an Arab, you are to forget what happens in England, you have become a citizen of his country and subject to its laws and customs."

A shiver ran down my spine. I was rapidly becoming terrified.

"Which," said Faisal, "are those that he decrees."

There was a slight but electric pause. Then the sheik snapped his jewelled fingers and a man stepped silently forward from the shadows.

I had hardly noticed him before, so engrossed had I been with his master. He was an enormous hideous creature with a jet black skin, wearing a red turban, vast blue oriental pantaloons and a short gold embroidered waistcoat that left his hairless black chest bare. From his wide leather belt hung on one side a bunch of large keys - and on the other, as if it were a badge of office, a vicious looking gold-encrusted dog whip.

I shuddered. Faisal would not take my hand. I was scared stiff by now, shivering despite the warmth of the place.

The horrible creature took my arm in an iron grip!

Then he looked up at the Sheik and received a nod, upon which he led me away. I was too amazed, and deep-down frightened, to protest as I was virtually dragged from the room, looking back over my shoulder for help.

But Faisal stood before the sheik, head bowed, subservient and, yet, looking strangely pleased ...

2 - TAKEN TO THE HAREM

I had never before has such a frightening walk as that in the grip of the man from the shadows, the repulsive giant negro.

It was a long hot walk along a corridor, open at one side to the bright sunlight, to a separate wing of the palace. I found myself in front of a massive wooden door, decorated with very large gold plaited nails which gave it a rather forbidding aspect.

Two more negroes guarded this door. They were dressed, like the one who had me in his grip, in huge baggy Turkish breeches of blue silk gathered at the ankles. They bowed respectfully to the great brute gripping my arm. Then they unlocked and swung open the great door and let us through.

The sound of it being locked behind us was decidedly unpleasant, but inside it was cool and mercifully less bright.

However, before I could take anything in I was confronted by another shock - for the big door swung open again and a woman appeared before me out of the shaft of brightness, a dark haired, woman of perhaps twenty-five. She was tall and exceptionally beautiful with piercing green eyes. She was covered in jewellery of all sorts, broaches, bracelets and rings, and wore a beautifully cut long brocade caftan.

The negro who had brought me bowed humbly before her as she looked me up and down in a very haughty way.

There followed some speech between them in Arabic, a language that was totally strange to me. The negro had a surprisingly high-pitched voice. I gathered that he was called Marak. Then I heard the name of Faisal, my husband, and hope grew within me - they must be aware that I was his new wife, and were no doubt saying that he would be joining me shortly.

The young woman turned to me and spoke in good English with a Arab accent. "Go with Marak. He will take care of you, show you your mattress, take you to the bathroom, give you all the help you will need here."

I cannot describe the relief I felt at hearing someone speak in English, and a woman at that! Helpful, too! But before I could ask any of the hundreds of questions that tumbled over themselves on my tongue, she turned on her heel and walked away.

I started to run after her, but the big negro - Marak, as I now knew him to be - gripped my arm and held me fast as the great door was opened once again. Seconds later, despite my struggles, the proud lady had disappeared into the brightness outside.

"Let me go, too" I cried out.

"No!" said Marak in heavily accented broken English, as the door was closed and locked behind her. But at least he, too, could communicate with me, too! "That Princess Raisa, she favourite daughter of Sheik. She free to come and go. But you stay here. In harem!"

I did not understand the awful implications of his words at that moment. Was I being treated as an honoured guest?

"She not pleased about you," added Marak ominously. "You English."

He sounded as if the fact was of great significance, and this added to my genera unease. But before I could collect my wits together, Marak was leading me out into another courtyard.

Forgetting all about this strange conversation, I looked around. In the centre was a tinkling fountain and beds of pretty flowers. The open area was surrounded by a cloister with Arab style columns through which I could see into a large room filled with oriental divans, carpets and cushions.

In the room were a score of women!

They were all pretty young women, and all sorts of skin colour were represented, from ebony to milk white. And they seemed to be half naked! They were dressed just in light muslin with bare feet.

They were looking out at me with curiosity and, as Marak led me into the room, they got up and surrounded me, chattering away in what was presumably Arabic. They fingered my smart suit, in which I had been married only the day before. They examined my handbag and my simple costume jewellery, clearly astonished to see a woman dressed in European clothes.

Then Marak held up his huge hand and they fell back suddenly and in respectful silence. He led me out into the courtyard again and towards the other side, where there turned out to be a large dormitory, though it contained no bed, just several lines of rolled up mattresses. Once again there were no doors and anyone standing in the courtyard would be able to see each mattress.

To my astonishment I saw that high up the corners of the room were two television cameras.

"This your bed," he said, waving to one of the mattresses.

"But ..." This was impossible! Utterly impossible! I hadn't come here to sleep on a mattress on the floor surrounded by a mass of other girls. I was on my honeymoon! "I want Faisal, I want my husband," I managed to gasp out at last.

Marak waved a dismissive hand and took me to the adjoining big bathroom.

"Here you take shower, brush hair, and ..."

Again astonished, I saw another two little television cameras high up in the corner of this room too. Then I blushed with embarrassment as he pointed to a long line of little chamber pots, like those used by children, and held one up for me to see. Each had some Arabic numbers written on it. He picked up a spare one wrote some Arabic numerals on it with a special pen.

"Your Harem number," he explained. "You use this."

His meaning was embarrassingly clear and in any case, except for a sluice in the corner, there was no sign of a normal loo in this otherwise luxurious and almost Western style bathroom.

Back to the dormitory. Now I noticed that, as well as the television cameras, there were bars behind the silken curtains over the windows at the back of the room, as if to make the whole place into a close surveillance prison. I gestured enquiringly to them, but Marak merely laughed.

Then he clapped his hands four times.

Then for my next shock as four young negresses, evidently servants, ran into the dormitory and prostrated themselves in front of him. They couldn't have been much more than eighteen or so. Their breasts were naked and they were dressed merely in a sort of transparent tutu round the waist. On their wrists and ankles were a sort of iron bracelet that seemed to me to have been hammered together and each was fitted with a prominent ring.

Marak spoke to them sharply in Arabic, giving them orders I could not understand. Two ran off and the other two started to unbutton my suit!

Yes, to unbutton my suit!

Should I have fought against them? I realise now that it would have been useless, even if amazement and dismay had not struck me so hard as to render me temporarily powerless.

Taking advantage of this they removed my jewellery and then actually started on my underwear!

Just as I was about to go berserk at being undressed before Marak, he turned and left, seemingly uninterested.

I relaxed somewhat and allowed them to continue. There seemed little point in struggling in this strange place, where no doubt customs were different.

When I was naked, they took me into the bathroom and proceeded to soap me and wash me all over. I must admit that I was beginning to enjoy their attentions and when I got out of the scented bath I felt much relaxed and had almost forgotten my worries about being separated from Faisal - I was sure it was only for a little while, and it was quite nice to be prepared for him like this.

Then suddenly Marak came back into the bathroom and with him was the Princess Raisa. I cowed back into the bath, but Marak gripped my hair in one huge hand and lifted me to my feet. Then holding my hands behind my back with his other hand he showed me off, naked , to the the Princess.

I blushed as if I was showing off to a man, and in a way the interest that the Princess was taking in my naked body was more like that of a man. As I was held helplessly by Marak, she ran her long pointed finger nails round my breasts and down over my tummy. As she did so she was talking in Arabic to Marak.

Finally she seemed satisfied and seemed to be giving him instructions. Then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving me feeling strangely uneasy.

When minutes later I as taken back into the dormitory, I was again taken aback. All my things had gone, everything, clothes, handbag and costume jewellery.

As I looked around for them I saw Marak. He was looking in from the arcade outside the dormitory. Horror! I tried to hide my nakedness with my hands, but he took no notice. He had with him the two girls who had run off before. Now they were carrying various clothes they must have been to fetch. They laid them on my mattress.

Here was everything that I needed to dress in the Eastern style: transparent veils and tulles, heavy bracelets, collars and jewels and as sort of puffed out trousers, gathered at the ankle, and made of transparent material.

The two girls proceeded to dress me under the stern eye of Marak. It was intensely embarrassing, especially as there was no underwear and my breasts were left totally uncovered. To all intents and purposes I was completely nude when fully dressed, for every detail and curve of my body could be seen through the veil-like material.

To finish it all off, one of the girls pinned a lovely Camellia into my hair, which had been unfastened and now hung down my back, like that of a child. Instinctively I looked into the mirror. I could not help smiling approvingly - Faisal would love this! To my embarrassment,

however, Marak actually complemented me on my beauty.

Then he rather strangely produced two little red pills, which he made me swallow. "Vitamins!" he said nonchalantly. I was given two of them every day in the harem from then on. I noticed that none of the other girls were given them.

3 - INCARCERATED IN THE HAREM

Marak led me back across the courtyard into an alcove off the big room in which I had first seen the other women. I was now dressed, or rather undressed, just like them.

Marak left the alcove which was immediately invaded by a number of other girls, may be twenty or thirty of them, all dressed as revealingly as myself. They clapped their hands in childish delight as the black servant girls now produced little plates of biscuits, dates, figs and other exotic fruits. They put their arms round my neck, kissed me, touched me, and jealously admired the jewels that had been arranged upon me like decorations on a Christmas tree.

Soon they were nibbling the fruits or helping themselves to little cups of mint tea, chattering away like bright little birds. They seemed absurdly child-like for grown women. Two of them, white girls, came up to me and spoke in English.

"They call me Dhana," said one, a very pretty, petite, ash blond.

"And they call me Djelba," said the other, a splendid brunette, also petite.

"Were you English?" asked Dhana. "Like me?"

"But I still am English," I replied. "What do you mean, "was I English?"

"Oh no!" she said, laughing. "Here, you're no longer an English girl! You've lost your nationality now. You are just like the rest of us - you just belong to the Ruler, His Highness Sheik Said.

"No! No! Not at all!" I replied naively. "I am the wife of Faisal, the Sheik's cousin, and I'm on my honeymoon ..."

This remark was greeted with laughter.

"No!" Dhana said to me kindly. "There are no wives here! Your so-called marriage to Prince Faisal will not be recognised here. And it won't be with him that you'll be having a honeymoon, but with our Master, His Highness Sheik Said! You're in his harem - living under the constant control and supervision of his black eunuchs, of whom Marak is the head one. His Highness is our Master and we are all merely part of his chosen collection of concubines - his slaves. And now you're just another - but you're supposed to be proud to have been accepted by him."

"No! No!" I screamed. "I'm a married woman - married to a charming and handsome young man.!

This was greeted with more laughter, and I burst into tears. Dhana and Djelba surrounded me, tenderly dried my tears, whispered little words of consolation, and put compresses of cold rose water on my forehead, on my face and on my breasts, and took me in their arms.

I remembered that everything connected with my former life had disappeared including my passport, my money, my cheque book, my credit cards, my address book and even my pen, along with all my most personal and intimate possessions, and even my European clothes.

I remembered the television cameras and the bars on the window. I remembered the strange high-pitched voice of Marak and the way he had nonchalantly supervised my being dressed in my revealing harem costume. Yes, it was true! I really was a prisoner, shut up in this harem with nothing to remind me of my real identity. And no one in England knew where I was - not even my aunt!

I realised that I had been horribly betrayed by Faisal, whom I had thought was my husband.

"It just can't be true," I cried. But I knew that it was. I was sobbing bitterly now, as realisation sank in.

My two companions were full of gentleness and sweetness as they explained my horrible predicament. I learned indeed that marriages abroad were simply not recognised here and, so, I was not Faisal's wife at all. But I was now well and truly incarcerated in the harem of Sheik Said. Faisal had simply given me to the rich and powerful Sheik in order to get into his good books, so that the Sheik would then give him a good job in the Government, and so that he could then marry his beautiful cousin, Alysha.

This marriage had been planned for a long time. Alysha was a close friend of Princess Raisa and it was she who, knowing her elderly father's penchant for young white girls, had suggested that Faisal should get into the Sheik's good books by tricking a white girl into coming out here - where she could then be put to use in the old man's harem.

So it was that I had become the slave and unwilling concubine of this horrible old man!

Suddenly I stood up, crying that it was all too monstrous, too awful and that I would never accept it all. I stamped my feet whilst the other girls still calmly chewed the biscuits, ate the fruit and sipped the mint tea. It had all, I now realised, been produced to celebrate my incarceration in their Master's harem!

I said that I was going to protest to my husband and to the Sheik's daughter, Princess Raisa. My companions once again burst out laughing. Dhana gave me to understand that I was wasting my time - especially with Raisa. They said that she was a Lesbian who had a coterie of her own girls. She was very jealous, bad tempered and strict with her own slave girls.

"A lesbian?" I exclaimed, remembering how she had examined me, naked, in the bathroom as if she had been a man.

"Oh, yes," replied Dhana, "she sometimes asks her father to give her a girl who had caught her eye in his harem. We're always frightened she might want one of us!"

Again I remembered how she examined me in the bathroom. Goodness!

Dhana said that the Princess had the reputation of hating European girls and in particular any English girls. Apparently, she had been sent to school in England, where she had been teased and called a 'wog', instead of being treated as a Princess.

She now sought her revenge on the unwilling white girls in her father's harem. Dhana advised me to avoid crossing her path. Luckily, she explained, Raisa's time was much taken up by her dogs.

"Dogs?" I queried.

"Oh yes," Dhana told me, "she's a great dog fancier. She breeds them and often shows them abroad. Breeding is a hobby she learnt about in England. They say she also tries to breed dwarfs."

Dhana tried to persuade me to calm down. I should, she said, now settle down and get used to the sleepy and lazy life of the harem, trying to earn the goodwill of the Master and hoping, one day, to be chosen by him for his pleasure.

This was now to be the sole aim of my future life!

"No! Never!" I screamed. "I'm not a slave girl!"

In a rage I pulled off the bracelets, jewels, broaches and collars with which I had been adorned and threw onto the floor, still screaming and stamping my feet.

The row that I was making resulted in Marak coming rushing back into the dormitory. He came up to me and gave me two tremendous slaps across my face which made me loose my balance. I fell to the ground.

"You brute!" I shouted up at him. "No! I'm not a slave! I'm a free girl! I can do what I like! You can't keep me here! I'm an Englishwoman - and I will complain to the British Ambassador!"

"You keep quiet!"shouted Marak, furious that his authority was being questioned. "You just an Arab girl now, a Christian slave, a dirty little animal! I make you realise what you are now. But first you get punished. You learn to be obedient humble little girl. My whip teaches you lesson!"

Whilst saying this he had put his foot on my back between my shoulders, using his weight to hold me immobile and glued to the floor. Then he unfastened the multi-thronged whip that I had seen hanging from is belt and began to whip my bottom, methodically and slowly.

I had never been beaten, not even as a young child. The strokes which were falling on my poor little behind hurt like mad. But they also affected me mentally for, don't forget, they were given to me in the presence of so many other girls who, apparently used to such spectacles, continued quietly to sip their mint tea and help themselves to the delicacies which had been offered to them.

"You are a cry baby!" said Marak slowly in his heavy accent as he continued to beat me. "You scream like lamb having throat cut when you just get a few taps. What you do when you given serious beating? Eh? ... Now you must learn, whether you like it or not, you now belong Master!"

With every phrase he uttered in his broken English he paused and then gave me another stroke of his whip. With each stroke, the various throngs seemed to set my tender bottom on fire and even to penetrate ... the pain was awful.

"You now in Master's harem. I supervise girls in harem. You obey me! You do what I say! And at once! You understand?"

"Oh! Ow! No! Please! Ow! No more! It's terrible! Stop! Ow! It's hurting too much. Ow!" I screamed with each leisurely stroke.

"Well? You behave now? You keep quiet?" The strokes continued with the same awful regularity.

"Yes! ... I'll ..."

"You obey? You do what told? Like little animal?"

"Ow! No more! ... Please! ... I beg you!"

"You beg me what? Come on! Say it!"

"I beg you not to beat me any more ... I will be a good girl ... I will do what I'm told."

"Look, you other girls!" I heard the big negro slowly say laconically in a mixture of Arabic and English, as he continued to thrash me slowly. "Look at this dirty little Christian girl. Hardly she arrive in harem ... instead of being proud to be admitted to Master's harem and of being given jewels, she throw them on floor ... she insult Master ... Take that you dirty little animal!"

The thongs of the whip continued to fall on my reddened and now naked bottom - for the thongs had cut the thin material of my trousers to ribbons. I must have been a grotesque sight. I saw that several of the girls were grinning as they looked at me. I felt horribly embarrassed to be whipped on the bare bottom like a naughty little girl in front of these laughing girls. And by a man! And a horrible black negro at that! It was too awful! Any remaining pride had been beaten out of me ... My sobs were choking me ... Gasping for breath I managed to cry out.

"Yes ... I'll obey ... Please, I beg you ... Don't beat me any more ... It hurts too much ... I'll do whatever you want ... I'll be a good girl."

"Then get up!" ordered Marak. "Kneel there! At my feet!"

I knelt up and without thinking put my hands back to ease the pain in my burning bottom. But the negro was watching out for this. His whip came down again - this time across my forearms. I gave a little cry of pain and took my hands away.

"Now you crawl and pick up each jewel you threw to the floor ... You bring here to my feet, like little dog!"

Panic-stricken and conquered I had to crawl round the floor looking for the jewels and bracelets that I had torn off when I had lost my temper. I had to bring them one by one and place them at the huge negro's feet. The thongs of his whip drove me on and on, falling now across my back and even catching my now hanging breasts.

I sobbed. My eyes were full of tears. Marak made me beg for pardon, kneeling at his feet in front of the other girls. Sobbing, utterly overwhelmed by his whip and desperately humiliated, I had to obey. I, a proud English girl, had to beg an ignorant negro for his forgiveness - and to promise never to do it again.

Marak confiscated the jewels and spoke in an ironic tone that I did not then understand. "So you not like these jewels, uh? You not worry! One day soon you wear something very different ... specially made to fit you! And this time you may not find so easy to take off!"

Finally he made me crawl across the room behind him and lick his shoes whilst he again caressed my backside with his whip.

Then delighted with having reduced me to helpless and abject submission, the burly negro turned and left the alcove.

As soon Marak had left, several of the girls who would from now on be my companions in slavery helped me up. They lay me down on on a couch and rubbed some special lotions into my skin. The effect was startling. Within minutes, I felt much better and was soon getting over the effect of my whipping.

There is no doubt that Arabs may know how to make you suffer atrociously, and are experts in the art of spinning out the pain, but nevertheless they also have the secret of curing you quickly afterwards - if only to enable them to start again as quickly as possible!

Certainly the delicate massage which was given to me by a variety of different hands made me feel a new person - especially when these same delicate hands reached the most intimate parts of my body!

I saw a girl go to the doorway that led out onto the courtyard as if keeping a lookout. I noticed that there was no television camera in this alcove.

Then the other girls started to tickle me gently between my legs, through my little triangular forest of body hair. Soon they were rubbing harder and faster until to their delight they saw my oily liquid appear - which unbelievably they then fought to come and lick!

So it was that despite such a beating - the first I had had in the whole of my life - I have to admit that I soon climaxed abundantly and my whole body was shaken with spasms that delighted the girls who surrounded me.

I saw that several wanted to do the same to each other but they kept looking nervously at the doorway.

I could not help reflecting that despite the awful pain of my beating, and the humiliation of it being inflicted on me by a negro in front of these other girls who as yet I scarcely knew, this beating had certainly greatly speeded up my climax and had made it much greater than I had ever experienced when secretly playing with myself.

The girl standing by the doorway called out a warning. The girls surrounding me stood back and looked quite innocent as Marak came back again. He looked angrily round at them, clearly suspecting that they had been misbehaving in his absence. He now held a long whippy cane in his hand. He called out something and waved them out with his cane towards the doorway where another negro, apparently junior to him, but also huge and also dressed like him, stood ready to lead the girls away.

I realised with shock that the negro eunuchs supervised the girls the whole time - particularly to stop them from misbehaving with each other in the way that, taking advantage of Marak's unusual temporary absence, they had misbehaved with me. How awful, I thought, to be supervised so intimately. But worse was to follow.

4 - TRAINED TO PERFORM BEFORE THE MASTER

Marak had kept back Dhana and Djelba when sending away the other girls.

"You three white girls now start learn new exhibition to please Master. It make him excited watch Christian girls made to play with each other!"

I can't describe all that we were made to do during the next few days. It was a routine, like a ballet, which we had to learn to do to music - Arabic music - with the hideous Marak as our choreographer.

It was terribly embarrassing to be taught to excite each other's bodies by a man, a black man, and one who clearly knew all about how a woman's body can be brought to the very edge of climaxing - and then kept there, without allowing a climax to take place.

As we knelt and grovelled on the floor, kissing, touching and sucking, the negro stood over us, his raised cane in his hand, as he called out the words of command that told us to proceed to the next part of our shameful exhibition - knowing as we did so that the slightest hesitation or mistake would be rewarded with a stroke of the cane.

Soon we had learnt a degrading but unbelievably exciting routine that went on for over a quarter of an hour. Soon the terrifying black eunuch no longer had to stand over us with a cane, he could, like a conductor, stand back with merely a whip in his hand - a whip which he cracked periodically to signal the next sequence in our shameful exhibition.

It was terrible being taught by a man the secret caresses that woman use amongst themselves - something that I must admit, however, to enjoying very much. Indeed, under the guidance of Marak's frightening cane, I willingly became a most adept follower of the school of Lesbos.

It was indeed highly exciting, but also highly frustrating for we were never allowed to reach a climax, nor to give each other the relief that we craved. Such relief, I learnt, was something that could only be earned in the bed of the Master - or, but only with his express permission, when performing our demeaning exhibition in front of him.

Moreover, Marak ensured that we would not illicitly obtain relief during the rehearsals by having each one of us held by one of his equally hideous negro assistants by a leash attached to a collar fastened round our necks.

As we writhed and wriggled in obedience to Marak's commands, each of the other negroes would be closely watching the girl whose lead he held. Like Marak, they were all very experienced at detecting the signs that a girl was about to reach her climax.

Over and over again, just when I was about to obtain the relief that I was longing for, my lead would be jerked back and I would be away from the mouth, hands or body of my companion who was so exciting me.

The negro would then give me two strokes of his whip across my helpless shoulders as a punishment for allowing my helpless body to get too excited. I would then continue to be held back momentarily, by my black eunuch, to cool off, whilst my companions continued the performance. Then a minute later, my leash would be relaxed and I would be ordered, like a performing animal, with a sharp tap of the whip on my buttocks, to join in the performance again.

It was, of course, all highly degrading to be controlled in such a way by men! And by uneducated negroes at that!

What made it even worse was that we often had to rehearse it all while also being watched by the grinning little dwarf I had first noticed when being presented to the Sheik. Apparently, although not black, he too was a eunuch and had the run of the harem. He was a favourite of the Sheik and the other girls said that he acted as his spy, reporting back to the Sheik any criticism or complaint he heard a girl make about being kept locked up in the harem - a report that was immediately followed by an order from the Sheik to Marak to have the girl in question thrashed as a lesson to the others.

But that was not all, for we were told that we would be held by our leashes by the negroes when we performed in front of the Sheik. We would have to excite each other in front of him, and to remain excited as we executed Marak's shame-making choreography. But unless the Sheik deigned to allow one or more of us any relief, then even in the actual performance we would be jerked back if we looked like reaching a climax, just as they did in the long drawn out and repeated rehearsals.

Nor did my frustration end when the rehearsals were over. The girls in the harem were always under the surveillance of a black eunuch at all times, even in the bathroom and at night in the dormitory.

The reason for this strict surveillance, I soon learned, was to ensure that we were kept pure and never allowed to play with each other or ourselves. To have done so would have been equated with being unfaithful to the Sheik with another man. We had to look to our elderly Master for any pleasure, and only to him!

I was still very innocent. My aunt had brought me up in a stupidly puritanical way. Before meeting the man who was to become my so-called husband, I had hardly had anything to do with men. So my sexual training with Marak, albeit in the joys of lesbianism, had come as a startling revelation of the thrilling excitement of sex.

Dhana and Djelba were, of course, much more experienced than I - though even they had had little experience of men other than their Master the Sheik.

The three of us formed a great friendship. We ate together, we spent hours talking together and, thanks to Marak's training sessions, we got to know each other intimately. We could even commiserate with each other over our enforced state of frustration - or purity as the black eunuchs called it!

The fact that we were all three of us Europeans, and well educated ones at that, did, of course, make us feel similarly about the many humiliations to which we had to submit, and in particularly the lose of our freedom.

One matter which I could not get out of my mind, was when the Sheik would decide to take my virginity, or to order the three of us to perform our increasingly perfect exhibition in front of him. Apparently he had gone away for a few weeks after my arrival, and it was awful having to wait to be raped.

When greatly daring I had asked Marak when he thought the Master would send for me, he just smiled and pointed to the lattice grills that looked down into the harem and to the television cameras.

"Master already watching you every day. When he decide you ready, he will send for you. Meanwhile you think of him! You must learn to love him!"

Indeed, I soon found that, like Dhana and Djelba, I simply could not get him out of my mind.

At night time, lying on the floor on our mattresses, we had to keep our hands above the bedclothes so that the black eunuch who put us to bed could ensure that we could not secretly reach down, under our sheets. The presence of a silently patrolling black eunuch also, of course, ensured that no girl dared to creep into another girl's mattress.

I used to spend hours lying awake in the dormitory thinking about the horrible old man who was playing cat and mouse with my virginity. To him I was just a toy - a new toy.

5 - BRANDED!

Several days passed. Each seemed longer and more depressing than its predecessor as I waited and waited to be raped by the terrible old Sheik. Princess Raisa did not return to the harem and I had completely forgotten about Marak's strange remarks about her interest in me.

There was little to do in the harem. Not only did the black eunuchs not allow the girls to have even a glimpse of a man, but they also did not allow them any books, magazines, newspapers, television or radios. They were deliberately kept in a state of child-like ignorance of the outside world.

Nor did the eunuchs allow us pens or writing paper, in case we tried to smuggle a letter out of the harem.

The long days were largely spent, constantly watched over by black eunuchs, as I splashed, stark naked, in the swimming pool with my new friends and fellow performers, Dhana and Djelba - when we were not being made to practice our little degrading exhibition.

I longed to stretch out in the warm sun and sunbathe, but this was forbidden. Marak told me that the Sheik liked the skin of his European slave girls to remain as white as milk.

Dhana, the other English girl, told me she thought she had been in the harem for about three years. Not being allowed access to a calendar or allowed to keep a diary, made it difficult to be sure. Apparently, she and her mother had gone to join her father who was working for an aid organisation in the Sudan. They had been caught up in a revolt, and her father killed. Their captors, eager to make a little money, had sold her mother and herself to Arab slave traders who took them, chained, to Arabia. .

Her real name had been Jane, a name she had lost on the day when, having been bought by the Sheik, she and her mother had been branded on the buttocks with a red hot branding iron with the crest of the ruling family and her harem number. I had, of course, noticed the brand mark, which was intended to allow her to be recognised as a slave, and returned to her owner, should she ever try to escape.

Fascinated with Dhana, the Sheik had decided that he would like to have a little sister of her's as well - for his old age, as he put it. He had had her mother mated, gagged and hooded, with a young blond Scandinavian tourist who had thought that he had been secretly smuggled into the harem by Marak for a discreet rendezvous with a beautiful Arab Princess.

Marak had carefully calculated the day of her mating and had previously put her on a course of fertility pills, and she had conceived a pair of beautiful blonde little girls whom the Sheik was having reared in another of his palaces.

Dhana's mother, having then done her duty as far as the Sheik was concerned, had been given to his delighted guards for their amusement. Dhana had never seen her again.

Djelba, I learned, was a German girl who had been tricked by an older man into coming out to Arabia as his secretary on a business trip. Once here, she had been presented to the Sheik by her so-called lover, in return for a large contract that he had then been awarded. Apparently her family had then been told that she had drowned in a bathing accident.

She, too, had been branded, and indeed I had seen that all my companions had been branded with the same mark of two crossed scimitars, sometimes on the thigh and sometimes on the buttocks. I realised, with horror, that sooner or later I too would have to suffer the same degrading treatment.

All the other girls had lost their body hair, giving them a strange little-girl appearance. It seemed to make them even more naked and animal-like. It could only be a question of time before I, too, lost my body hair: I dreaded that moment almost as much as the the thought of being branded.

Indeed, it all happened only a few days later. It was nearly the end of the afternoon siesta. We were all lying on our beds in the harem watched closely by one of the black eunuchs. Suddenly Marak and another black eunuch entered the harem and made me get up, and tied my wrists behind my back. Lifting me up as if I were a little doll, they carried me out of the dormitory. Half carried and half walking, I screamed and shouted for help - until Marak shut me up with several strokes of his whip.

Up till then, I had not really been badly treated in the harem. But the idea of being branded for ever on my body drove me mad with fear. They took me down to a basement room, which seemed to be a veritable torture chamber. I was horrified and terrified by the sight of so many instruments of torture: heavy iron collars, chains, pulleys hanging from the ceiling, couches, trestles, and whips of every conceivable type.

I was taken up to a large pillar to which a heavy metal collar was attached by a short chain. The collar was put round my neck and closed with a sinister click. My feet were chained together in a way that prevented the slightest movement. My wrists were fastened round the pillar.

Marak threatened me with his whip, making me keep quite still. Then I was blindfolded. I could not see the blacksmith, but I could hear him fanning the flames. Suddenly I felt a terrible burning sensation on my right buttock. It seemed to go on and on. I screamed and screamed. There was a smell of burning flesh ... I fainted.

I came to again in the dormitory, lying on my mattress on my belly. I was quite unable to move with my wrists and ankles tightly tied to rings in the floor near the four corners of the mattress. Dhana and Djelba were bending over me. They told me that I was going to have to stay tied like this for two days to prevent me from scratching the scar of the brand if it started to itch.

It had been done! I was branded as if I was one of my Master's animals. And my two friends again told me that thanks to these brands, every single slave girl, without exception, who had succeeded in getting out of the harem, had sooner or later been recognised and dragged back for punishment. Slavery might officially have been abolished, but no one anywhere in the Arab world would risk their lives harbouring a girl branded with the well known crest of the Ruler of this small but immensely rich country.

On the contrary everyone knew that a huge reward would be paid to anyone returning an escaped concubine, especially a white one, or who helped her recapture. Even one girl who had escaped to Europe and had settled down and got married, had eventually been found and returned in chains to the Master.

They fetched a mirror and held it up behind me. They told me to raise my hips and look round. I turned my head and saw, between the parted cheeks of my bottom, my now smooth and hairless beauty lips. I was now as hairless as a little girl, just like all the other concubines in the harem.

Alongside my now prettily, but shamefully exposed beauty lips, I saw the brand on my bottom. It was bright green! Colouring had been put into the wound so as to make the scar stand out even more. This very noticeable and irremovable scar would now differentiate me for ever from the rest of the human race.

I must admit that, thanks to the lotions and creams that the two girls were allowed to rub into the wound, all the pain quickly went. But seeing the terrible brand drove home to me that I could never now hope to be free again. I could certainly see that even should I manage to escape, then sooner or later, I too would be recognised and dragged back to my Master, whose property I now was.

The brand made me realise, more than ever, that I was just a slave, an animal, the property of the Sheik. All that I had left to remind me that I had once been a free young woman was my name - and that would no doubt soon be taken away from me.

Once again several days passed - days in which I kept wondering when I would have to please my Master and cursing him for keeping me on tenterhooks in this awful way.

Then suddenly there was great excitement. The Master wished to see our little performance. I was terrified. I just lay on my mattress, watching Dhana and Djelba painting and powdering their bodies - making themselves look as beautiful as possible, as if their very lives depended on it.

Marak came into the dormitory to see how we were getting on. Seeing me still lying there, he raised his whip ... with a little cry I rushed over to the long dressing table and started, too, to paint my eyes, my face, my nipples and my now hairless beauty lips.

Soon, each held on a leash by a black eunuch, we were crawling into the big harem display room reserved for the Master's own use. The Master was sitting comfortable amongst a pile of large Eastern cushions and pouffes. Humiliated and embarrassed by my nudity and by being held on a leash by a negro, I was too shy to look at him.

I saw that he had a girl on either side of him. They were dressed only in harem trousers with their breasts bare. They were smiling up at him and their hands were at his groin. Clearly our little performance was merely to act as additional excitement.

Suddenly there was music, the same Arab music to which we had been made to perform so often. Marak cracked his whip. My keeper gave me a sharp crack across my bottom with his whip and loosened his hold on my leash. We were off!

Soon I found myself responding to the embraces of my two companions - mutual embraces which, of course, we had had to practise so often.

To my horror, I found that having to perform so degradingly in front of a real man, my Master, the man whose brand I now bore, made me even more aroused than I had been during our rehearsals. I saw that my companions were also being affected in the same shameful way. Constantly, much to the Master's amusement, our black eunuchs had to pull us back by our leashes to stop us from climaxing without permission. Finally, Dhana was allowed by our Master to reach a devastating climax, but Djelba and I were kept cruelly frustrated.

At last our little exhibition was over. The music stopped. The two girls sitting alongside the Sheik renewed their loving attentions. The Sheik waved us away. Our leashes were given a sharp tug and we crawled out of the room, feeling more like performing animals than ever.

The next evening, there was even greater excitement in the harem. Marak announced a Full Parade. The Master was to choose one or more concubines for the night. There was a rush by each girl to get herself ready, to do her hair, to powder herself all over, to spray expensive scent over herself and to make herself look as irresistible as possible so as to catch the eye of the Master and perhaps become his favourite.

I, on the contrary, did nothing. Once again I lay on my mattress, thinking bitterly of the way I had dreamt of having a romantic honeymoon in the arms of the handsome young Faisal, and then of what I had now become - thanks to his betrayal ... A body to be used! ... A slave branded like a mere animal! ... A performing animal, forced to put on a display of lesbianism.

No! I told myself with a sudden start, this sort of thing just can't happen in the twentieth century. I'm a free Englishwoman, an educated girl and I jolly well intend to get back my freedom.

So it was that with these ideas firmly in my head I lay on my bed with my head between my hands. Marak hit the gong twice - the signal in the harem for a 'General Assembly'. But I decided to pay no attention.

The result was inevitable. After a few minutes, Marak came storming into the now empty dormitory, his little pig-eyes blazing and his whip raised.

"Get up, you," he shouted, "and come!"

As I paid no attention, he came to my bed and seized my arm. He pulled me off my bed and threw me across the next one with a force that I had not expected. He gave me several strokes across the bottom with his whip, making me realise that I had no alternative but to obey him ... to get up ... and to join the other girls.

Frightened and hurt, I did not resist any more. I obeyed him ... without enthusiasm and sulkily, but chased by Marak who punctuated each of his remarks with another stroke of his whip across my now burning and well striped bottom.

"Naughty girl! You get plenty more," he cried. "Especially if you sulk and not look happy girl for Master! Now, you get in line with other girls! And show respect!"

He stroked my bottom with his hands, rubbing it carefully, doubtless so as to make the marks of his whip go more quickly. "I not want spoil such pretty skin. Now you behave properly in front of Master. And maybe he choose you! You think! You pretty girl. You virgin. You can have honour of sharing his bed tonight. You lucky girl. Many other girls want be pretty like you, want body like you and want have your chance of going to Master's bed. But I warn you ... you not behave ... you think yourself better than Master ... and you not only get beating, you also get other punishments. You think! You think hard!"

Stunned by this diatribe, I obeyed Marak and joined the line of excited girls for whom this was a wonderful chance of making their fortune. Like them, I had to kneel, my head down, and the palms of my hands flat on the floor.

Was this really me submissively kneeling to await the arrival of the Master? My Master, who was coming with all the traditional ceremonial to make his choice from amongst this batch of girls, who belonged to him and who were reserved for his own exclusive use.

6 - CHOSEN BY THE MASTER

Nearly thirty little creatures like me were lined up, kneeling humbly in three lines, all beautifully groomed and made up, and all sharing an obvious desire to try and please the Master, who was about to make his choice.

Marak stood at my side, stroking me with his whip, as if reminding me to behave properly in the forthcoming scene.

Finally, the big, metal-studded door, through which I had originally entered the harem, was opened. Preceded by two fearsome looking black eunuchs, cracking their whips, His Highness Sheik Said ibn Faud appeared.

He made a majestic figure. He again wore a fine, almost transparent black Arab cloak, or gandoura, edged with gold braid over a long spotless white robe. Round his waist was a wide silvered studded belt from which hung a dagger with a silver handle. He wore a white Arab headdress with golden cords. On his feet were white leather babouches decorated with precious stones. He looked every inch of what he was - an elderly but rich and powerful potentate.

Despite all the ceremony of his arrival, I felt like rushing up to him, shouting my scorn, and reminding him of the way he had treacherously welcomed me in a friendly manner, when I had first arrived. Then I remembered that now I was just one of his collection of thirty private whores, displayed almost naked to his lustful gaze.

Indeed, where as previously he had only seen me dressed in European clothes, now thanks to the transparent material which was all that I was allowed to cover my nude body, he could with a quick glance appreciate my entire figure. And, thanks to the removal of my body hair, my most intimate parts.

But in any case, the iron fist of Marak was now pressing down on my shoulder, making me, like all the other girls, remain kneeling with my forehead touching the floor.

I tried to raise my head a little to see what was happening, but immediately Marak stroked by buttocks with the terrible thongs of his whip, reminding me of the beating that I had just received. It made me realise that any resistance, or even merely too much curiosity, would be punished. In the harem of the Master, utter submissiveness was demanded - and obtained, thanks to Marak's whip. So I quickly lowered my head. Like the others, I remained kneeling with my head bent humbly in front of our Master.

We were all in this position of utter submission as he passed down the lines like an inspecting general. Snapping his fingers, and touching the naked shoulders of a girl who had caught his attention with his whip, was the signal for her to jump up. Then, her eyes fixed on the wall behind her Master, and putting her hands behind her neck, she had to part her legs, bend her knees and thrust her belly forward for a closer inspection by her Master. She would have to keep her fixed straight ahead, whilst he spoke to her and felt her as if he were examining one of his horses or camels, amusing himself by stroking or pinching a breast or looking at her teeth ... and then ... go on to the next girl.

I looked surreptitiously through my fingers at what was happening. I saw that if the girl was what one might describe as short listed after being made to stand for inspection, then she joined a little group, standing apart under the aegis and control of one of the eunuchs.

I began to tremble all over when, still kneeling and still feeling the cords of Marak's whip running over my buttocks to remind me of his presence, I saw out of the corner of my eyes the babouches of my Lord and Master coming towards me. They stopped in front of me! There was a long pause. I was trembling even more violently than before.

Then I could not help giving a little shiver of fright when I heard him snap his fingers and touch my shoulders with his whip. For a moment I thought I would resist. But then a sharp stroke from Marak's whip made me decided otherwise. I, too, jumped up and clasped my hands behind my neck .

The Master stood back, watching, as, driven on my a tap on the buttocks from Marak, I, too, keeping my eyes fixed ahead, blushingly parted my legs, bent my knees and thrust my belly forward for his inspection.

The Master slowly examined me from head to toe. There was no need to undress me - the transparency of my trousers and veils hid absolutely nothing from his eager eyes, a point which was driven home to me when Marak made me part my legs and bend my knees as the Master's eyes fell on my lower belly. I felt unbelievably humiliated.

"Ah!" he said in good English, with mocking gallantry. "Here's our pretty little English girl - the one who was given to me by my young cousin."

So he did speak English after all! But I did not dare to look at him. Then, as if to humble me even more, he began to feel my breasts and belly with an experienced hand. He stroked the mark of my new brand - alongside my newly shorn beauty lips. I was red with shame.

"Come along!" he said. "Give your Master a nice smile and show him your pretty little teeth."

Then, as I made no move, he opened my mouth with his hands and carefully looked at my teeth, like a horse dealer examining those of a horse or filly before deciding whether to buy.

My God! How unbelievably shame-making it was!

Then he ordered me to turn round to look at my long back, my little waist and the contrasting swell of my hips. He saw on my bottom the marks that showing I had recently been whipped.

"And I've got a stubborn little creature, I can see, into the bargain!" he said to Marak. "Good! All the better! It will be all the more amusing to tame her!"

He turned to continue his inspection of the girls. A touch on my buttocks from Marak's whip told me I should now go and join the line of five girls chosen so far, amongst whom I saw Dhana and Djelba.

A few minutes later, the rejected girls sadly left, whilst the six chosen ones dutifully followed our Master into the large and sumptuously furnished harem display room.

The Master sat himself comfortably on a pile of cushions, just as he had done when we had given our degrading exhibition, and waved to us to stretch out on the floor around him.

My five companions tried to get as close to him as they could, evidently so as to try and catch his eye. I kept well away from him.

However, the Master noticed this. Whilst accepting the homage of the other girls, his eager and lustful eyes remained fixed on me. I lowered my eyes, as if I had not noticed ...

Then his beautiful daughter, Princess Raisa, came and joined him, together with two pretty slave girls, who were waving huge fans above her head. Angrily she kicked one of my companions out of the way, and sat down next to the Sheik, just as his Arab orchestra started to play.

Dancing girls appeared. Initially they were veiled, but soon they began to strip slowly in time to the music, in a lascivious and suggestive way. Black slave girls appeared with plates of delicious light refreshments which they offered first to the Master and his daughter.

Then suddenly, turning to me, the Master said: "Now, girl, what is your name again?"

"Sally," I replied breathlessly.

"Very well, Sally, come here closer to me. You're too far away!"

Distraught, I looked round the room, looking for help that I knew was not there. I looked imploringly and desperately at the Princess. Her green eyes pierced me and I saw a wicked grin at the corner of her mouth. She gave one of her slave girls a stroke of her whip - without any reason.

Disheartened, I realised that I would have to obey my Master. He made me sit down at his side - on the opposite side to Princess Raisa - telling two girls to get out of the way. I saw them look at me with jealous hatred.

Then, whilst watching the dancers, the Master began to stroke and feel me all over - taking or pulling off any veils that were in his way.

Shamefacedly, I could not help finding it exciting. My breasts were sticking out provocatively. After closely examining their shape and firmness, he leaned towards me, pressing his lips to put them against mine and forcing me to open my mouth as he gave me a long and meaningful kiss.

But he realised that I was merely putting up with his embraces and not returning them as he wished. Suddenly he drew back.

"So this," he cried, "is how you thank me for the great honour I paid you in calling you over to me?"

And as I had taken advantage of the opportunity to escape from his embrace, he then caught me, dragged me back and held me tight in his strong grip. Horrified, I felt his desire to possess me rise. I felt his manhood become erect. Vainly I tried to wriggle away.

"So you find me repulsive, do you?" he eventually said. "Very well. But just remember that I want you. Don't you forget that you belong to me now, and that you are mine to do whatever I like with!"

He signalled to the orchestra and to the dancers to continue. My formally ousted companions now took their places next to him again, as he whispered orders to Marak.

My overseer seized me and took me out of the room. As I left I noticed the Princess's face light up with a cunning smile, as if a carefully prepared plan was working out well. I was taken back to the dormitory. Marak called out to some black girls to 'prepare me for the night'.

So it was that my fate was decided. Here I was being delivered, against my will, to the sordid and sensual appetite of this cruel old man. He was, I had to admit, rather attractive with his firm and dominating ways that brooked no argument. But the idea of having to accept him as my Master, whether I like it or not, was too much. I was, I felt, a lamb being prepared for the sacrifice.

It was indeed like a story out of The Thousand and One Nights, but not at all one that I wanted, not the one that I had expected when marrying, as I had thought I had done, into the Royal Family of this far away country.

Instead of living out this story with a young and handsome husband whom I adored, I would have to submit to the desires and lusts of a horrible old man.

Passively, I let myself be 'prepared' under the direction of the hideous Marak. Then when they had painted and powdered me all over and oiled the more intimate parts of my body, I followed him and another black eunuch as they led me to the door which linked the harem to the Master's bedroom.

Still overcome with lassitude, I felt Marak lift me up and carry me into a huge room, richly decorated on the walls with precious Eastern rugs. The floor was covered with a thick soft carpet and the room was furnished with soft beautiful leather cushions and with a huge couch covered with animal skins. It was altogether far grander than anything in the harem.

The eunuchs made me kneel down to await the arrival of the Master. I had to remain with my forehead touching the carpet for at least half an hour. Then, although I did not dare raise my head to look, I heard the footsteps and voice of His Highness Sheik Said ibn Faud.

He came up to me. The two eunuchs pushed down on my shoulders and I had no alternative but to obey my Master's order ... and to kiss his feet. As he put both feet, one after the other, in front of my lips, I realised that he was taking a sadistic pleasure in humiliating me in this way.

This was the final straw. The long wait had got on my nerves. My emotions had reached breaking point.

I jumped up and spat into his face.

Then I collapsed in tears, already regretting my stupid gesture as the two eunuchs seized my wrists. Marak unfastened his whip and gave me a violent stroke across my bottom, leaving a bright red weal. I cried out and tried to fight them off as if to escape. But the second eunuch soon made me feel in the same place that his whip was just as effective as that of Marak himself. I was already terrified and white with fear when I heard Sheik Said say very calmly, as he wiped his face, his fierce eyes fixed on me:

"Give her twenty strokes of the cane now, in front of me. We must teach her, for once and for all, that her Master is to be respected."

Realising the enormity of what I had done, I threw myself onto my knees, crawled to his feet and kissed them, sobbing. "Oh No! I beg your forgiveness. Please don't beat me any more. I beg you!"

It was to no avail. Immediately I was bent over on my knees in front of my impassive Master. All my veil-like clothes were torn off, together with my jewellery. The bracelets on my wrists were replaced by manacles, joined by a short length of heavy chain. I was now helpless. Even worse, they fastened my ankles with a similarly chain some six inches long, which just allowed me to move my feet.

Then whilst the Sheik sat comfortably on his cushions, dressed only in his simple dressing gown, under which he was stark naked, I received the first stroke. It bit horribly into my buttocks. I screamed and begged for mercy. But none was given.

The two eunuchs each took it in turn to give me a stroke with the awful cane. They took their time. Whilst one caned me, the other would hold me in position. My cries were terrible and the pain was appalling. By the time the twentieth stroke had been delivered, I was trembling all over and still screaming for mercy as I lay on the floor.

At the order of the Master, the two eunuchs picked me up, put me back onto my knees with my ankles and wrists still chained. Then, under the threat of the terrible cane, they forced me to crawl to the feet of the Sheik, to kiss them, to ask his forgiveness and to thank him for having had me beaten!

My humiliation was complete. I had no more desire to fight. I had been brought to heel. I kissed his feet desperately, scared stiff of Marak's cane. When the Master judged that I had kissed his feet enough, he ordered my whole body to be rubbed with eau de cologne. It stung terribly, but it revived me. Then the two eunuchs made step over my wrist manacles. My hands were now held helplessly behind my back. Then they threw me onto the divan, where, throwing off his dressing gown, and waving the eunuchs out of the room, the Sheik joined me.

He touched me. He felt me. I was helpless to resist. He stroked the most intimate parts of my bruised body. He aroused my sensuality which had already been affected by the caning.

With oriental calm, he amused himself for what seemed to be hours. I was still quite helpless and forced to submit to whatever degradation he imposed on me. If I cried out with pain or pleasure too loudly, he would calmly pick up his whip and give me several strokes on my bottom whilst he enjoyed watching me struggling in my chains.

He aroused me and kept me aroused, despite my horror of being in his arms. He laughed as he saw my body responding automatically to the presence of his erect manhood. He mounted me and penetrated me, taking my virginity, as I lay crushed under his vast weight. He took his pleasure slowly and it was some time before I felt his warm seed jet right up into the depths of my body.

"Well, little girl," he said triumphantly, "you've just had to give up your virginity to me, instead of the handsome young man you thought was your husband!"

This reminder of the existence of my husband, just at the moment when I had become the complete plaything of his elderly relative, filled me with shame and humiliation again. I was furious at feeling myself chained like some animal being mated against its will, and even more furious that, despite everything, I had been forced to share the pleasure that he had taken in raping me.

Later during the night he amused himself by making me kneel on the carpet, my ankles and wrists still chained, and my head down onto the carpet so that I had to watch, through my knees, his manhood raping me again. At the same time he ensured my own arousal and wildly exciting climax by playing with my nipples and beauty bud, frequently pinching them to make me cry out with pain and thus increase his own enjoyment.

But the most dreadful moment was when, having brought me to the very heights of excitement with a long ostrich feather, he decided to take me like a boy. It is something that Arab men are very fond of doing to their women. It was a terrible experience as, once again kneeling with my head to the floor, he forced me with his whip to relax my body so as to assist his own penetration. But even here I have to admit that my first terrible screams gradually turned, thanks to his firm and experienced grip, into little cries of pleasure ...

Indeed, I must admit that playing with my body as an expert musician might play on a fine instrument, the Master showed himself to be a sensational lover. He did however keep me uncomfortably chained alongside him all night. I was now bitterly regretting my gesture of revolt that had resulted in my being chained. I even began to wonder whether my future life might not, after all, be so awful if I were to be the favourite plaything of such a fantastic, if older, man.

But it was too late. I had missed the boat ... by spitting in the Sheik's face, I a mere Christian, had committed an unforgivable offence. He had taken his revenge on me, but he still had to make an example of me for the sake of harem discipline.

In fact, of course, although I did not then know it, I was intended for other things and was only in the harem so that I could be broken-in before being passed on ... with the Sheik agreeing, provided the taking of my virginity was reserved for him.

So it was that early next morning, having beaten me on my bottom for the last time, he struck a gong to call in Marak. I was carried, completely exhausted, to a quite corner of the harem, and thrown, still chained, onto my mattress on the floor.

Tired out, my morale destroyed, I immediately fell into a deep sleep that lasted for hours.

7 - GIVEN AWAY AS A PRESENT

At last Marak came to me, looked at the marks of my various beatings and unfastened my chains.

"You are stupid girl. You had world at feet. If you had caught Master's fancy, he might have made you his favourite and not let Princess Raisa have you as now planned."

Have me as planned? The Princess? I shook my dazed head. "What do you mean?"

"You soon learn. And you never have another chance, for Master say he never want see you in harem again - now that he has enjoyed taking your virginity."

"Good!" I cried, sitting up. "Wonderful! I don't care about being queen of his silly harem. I just want to get out of it, get right away - and the sooner the better!"

"Get out? Get away!" The huge eunuch began to laugh, his great belly shaking. For as long as I live, I shall not forget his cruel laughter, or what he slowly and carefully went on to say.

"You not think Master allow you go away? He not give you freedom to tell stories about his harem. Little girl, you think he maybe sell you to discreet slave merchant with orders to sell you only to another strict Arab sheik? Then maybe you then have chance catch new Master's eye to make life happy again? But no! He not sell you! I very sorry for you."

There was a pause. I was listening, transfixed by every word. What on earth did he mean? I saw the negro search in his pocket. Then he pulled out an official looking rolled document, sealed as if it were legal, the writing Arabic. Slowly he unrolled it and began to translate.

" ... this Christian dog is indeed a dog, a bitch, and in future is to be treated strictly as such until I decide to have her put down."

I looked at Marak, horrified. Treated like a bitch! Put down!

He rolled up the evil document again. "And I have orders you be treated as such from now! You understand? You now just a female dog. So get up! You stupid girl, who instead of being queen of harem will go into kennels."

"What?" I cried. "What do you mean, go into what kennels."

"Like many wealthy Arabs, Master keep wild animals in cages in palace grounds. Your new owner also keeps dogs there and you go there too."

With a stroke of his whip across my back, Marak made me get up and follow him to the bathroom. There, horrified at what Marak had told me, I had to douche and wash myself under his watchful eye. Then he again chained my hands behind my back. Stark naked, I had to kneel and wait. I did not understand what was going to happen to me. How could a girl be put into a kennel?

I had to wait a long time while Marak went off. Girls were not normally left alone in the harem for fear that they might seize the opportunity to misbehave. For that reason when a girl had to be left alone, the eunuchs always handcuffed her hands behind her back so that she could not get at herself. Was this the reason why I had been handcuffed - so that I could not take the opportunity to give myself relief. After all that had happened the night before, I thought, he need not be worried!

As I waited, wondering just what was going to happen to me, I felt my little remaining strength and resolve disappearing.

Then I was delighted to see Dhana and Djelba coming over to me. They had just heard the terrible sentence that the Sheik had pronounced on me. They started to kiss me and console me. I wanted to ask them what it all meant, but just then Marak returned.

Angrily, Marak kicked them away from me. Then he seized me and unfastened my handcuffs. Instead he manacled my wrists and ankles. They were now joined by a short chain. He fastened a dog collar around my neck. A long chain was attached to it. He raised his whip menacingly. I knew I would have to obey.

Naked, except for the collar, my head lowered to hide my blushes and my humiliation, he led me by the lead, crawling on all fours, past all the other girls of the harem who had come to see my shame. Several were grinning at my downfall.

We left the harem, and I was led into a luxurious near-by apartment. Marak made me prostrate myself with my head to the floor. I could not see the person whom I now heard arrive and sit down on the cushion in front of me. What was happening, I wondered. To whom was I now being handed over? Who was my new owner?

I was astonished to see, in front of my lowered head, two women's feet! They were clad in a pair beautiful Turkish slippers and thrust forward as if for me to kiss.

Distraught, I was about to raise my head to see who this woman was, when I heard a harsh voice speaking in fluent English with an Arab accent. It was the Princess Raisa, the partly English-educated daughter of the Sheik!

"Stay down, you little dog! And kiss my feet! At once! Or you'll get my dog whip across your backside. We will have plenty of time later to get to know each other. For the time being, just lick, little dog, lick!"

With my poor bottom still very painful from all that had happened during the night, she only had to show me her whip to make me apply my tongue humbly. Fervently I kissed the feet of my husband's cousin and confidant, but my mind was racing.

Had she, I wondered, planned this from the start? Had she known that I, a headstrong English girl, would revolt against the humiliations of harem life and in particular against the attentions of her father?

Then she made me kneel up. I looked up at her. She seemed even more beautiful than previously. She lent forwards towards me. Suddenly she slapped my face hard, twice, once on each cheek. With my hands still handcuffed behind my back, I could do nothing to protect myself. She grabbed me and held me kneeling in front of her.

"And now, just you listen to me," she said in her fluent but accented English. "You thought that, coming here after trying to seduce my cousin, you would make him forget about his true fianc‚ - whom he has now, incidentally, married. You thought you could continue to continue to cock a snook at our family, didn't you?"

"No! That's not true!" I cried. How could she say such things when I didn't even know that he was engaged to be married when he married me! Anyway he had told me almost nothing about his family.

"Shut up, you little dog!" she said harshly. Her whip was raised. I kept quiet.

"And as if that was not enough, you tried to seduce my father and to worm your way into his favours."

"No! I swear it wasn't like that at all!" Was Raisa just cruelly teasing me?

"Keep quiet! Or I swear I'll give you the thrashing of your life!"

She raised her whip and brought it down with a terrifying crash onto the cushion at my side. She continued slowly, as if enjoying every word.

"But fortunately Allah did not intend you to succeed. Having tried you out and being thoroughly bored with your slave-like body after only one night, he has rejected you. Moreover, instead of making you his favourite, as you then hoped would happen, he saw through your ambitious little game. He has now decreed that you are nothing but a scheming Christian dog and has ordered that from now on you are to be treated as such. He has also ordered that forthwith you are to have your hair cut off, you are to be wormed, taken to his menagerie and locked up with the other dogs I keep there ... So it's lucky for you that I'm such a kind woman, for I interceded in your favour ... You are going to be my private bitch! ... So you can say 'thank you' to me!"

"Oh! Thank you, Raisa!" I really felt then that she had rescued me from an awful fate.

"For a start there'll be no Raisa's! From now on you just belong to me and I'm your sole Mistress. Do you understand?"

"But ... but ... " I stammered, more confused than ever. "But I thought ..."

"Dogs don't think! Nor do stupid slave girls! You're just my slave now. Do you understand that? Yes or No?"

"Yes, Mistress," I said in a resigned voice.

"Good! But I can't reverse my revered father's decision that you should henceforth be treated like a dog. What he has agreed, however, is that he will give you to me to be trained to behave like a dog. You're lucky that I wanted you for myself? Aren't you a lucky girl?"

" ... Yes," I said in a whisper and after a little hesitation that showed my true utter disillusionment and distress.

"Yes what?"

Again she raised her whip. I shrank back, but not in time to avoid a stroke across my breasts that caught my nipples.

"Yes, Mistress," I screamed.

"At last! I'm going to really enjoy training you to obey my orders! Believe me! Meanwhile, I'm going to tell you a little, for the moment just a little, about what's in store for you - whether you like it or not! Just remember that I have an infallible way of making European girls do what I want - applying my whip to their backsides!"

Listening to this harangue, I could not help remembering what I had heard in the harem about Raisa, about her temper, about her cruelty, and about never falling into her clutches ...

"So ... from now on, you are just going to be my little bitch and you will lead the life of a bitch. You'd better get used to it quickly! As a dog you will be entitled to the same rewards and punishments as the other animals in the menagerie. No more and no less! You must learn to forget all your unpleasant human traits and acquire those of your new real race - the canine race."

She paused to let her words sink in. I could not believe what I was hearing. It must, I thought, be some kind of joke.

"To help you get used to your new life, you will no longer have any liberty. You will always be on a leash, chained up in your cage. And, incidentally, let's see where were you branded as my father's slave?"

She looked down at me and turned me round.

"Ah, on your hindquarters! Good! Alongside your pretty little dog's body lips. I shall also have my name tattooed on your future bald little head and on the backs of your hands."

I gave a gasp of disbelief.

"So," she continued imperturbably, "should you ever succeed in escaping, which would greatly surprise me, then you would quickly be recognised not only as one of my father's slaves, but as one of mine as well. I should warn you, incidentally, that traditionally Moslems regard dogs as unclean so, dressed as a dog, you'd be viewed with disgust as a runaway dog, rather than as a escaped slavegirl. So all in all, I don't think it would be long before you were back in your kennel again - and with a pretty tender backside!"

I could not help giving another little sob. It all sounded so terrible and final. Was my life as a human being over? How long would I be allowed to live as a dog, before being put down, I wondered in dismay.

Already I had been branded with the mark of the Sheik, and now I was going to be tattooed with the name of my Mistress. It was all too much!

"And, this is important, you will now start serious dog training, just as my august father had decreed, I'll see to that! For a start, I never want to hear you speak again like a human being, unless you have been given special permission to do so. You are to bark! You'll soon get good at it. And don't forget, if you don't, then this little dog whip will be waiting for you."

Again she raised her whip and made as if to give me another stroke across my breasts. I shrank back, but with my hands tied behind my back there was nothing I could do. She grabbed my hair and pulled me forward, exposing my breasts prettily for her short dog whip. I gasped in horror. She laughed and pushed me away. She had seen that I was terrified by the mere threat of her whip.

Then, stroking my beautiful long hair, of which I was so proud, she said coldly: "It's only horses that have manes, not dogs. So I'm going to have it shaved right off, just as father ordered!"

Seeing me shaking with horror, she burst out laughing. Then she felt my already shorn beauty lips, and found a few stubbly little hairs.

"Yes, and we'll have you nice and smooth here as well. Bitches don't have any hair here. So, do you understand now? You are going to be kept quite hairless everywhere, and especially round your private parts. If it amuses me to have your covered, then I and your keepers must be able to see immediately when you come into season, just like the real female animals in the menagerie. You're going to be treated just like them and you're going to learn to behave like them."

Again she paused. I was still kneeling at her feet, my mouth wide open with horror. Never in my worst nightmares, had I ever dreamt anything so degrading would ever happen to me. And this merely for the amusement of a girl who was hardly older than I, and as a punishment for merely momentarily losing my temper with her terrible old father.

"And, I shall have a real dog skin made for you which whilst covering most of your body, will leave naked those parts which I wish to keep an eye on and which you will have to use for your natural functions."

I wanted to put my hands over my ears and not to hear any more, but with my hands tied behind my back I had no alternative but to go on listening to my fate.

"You will totally loose the use of your hands - and I mean totally. Your hands and feet will be sown into paws, just like those of a real dog, with pads and claws which your keeper will be able to take off so as to clean your real hands and feet ... I intend to have you kept always very clean ... And as you will also have to walk on all fours, you will have special knee pads so that you can crawl everywhere, even on gravel, without spoiling your dog skin or hurting yourself ... Well, do you know see what a kind Mistress you have? Eh? Answer me, girl!"

"Yes, Mistress!"

"And, of course, no longer having any hands, you will have to gulp down your dog food like a real dog out of a real dog bowl!"

She laughed. "And if you are a good little dog, obedient and affectionate, then you will have nothing to fear from your Mistress. On the contrary she adores dogs and you will be spoilt as a result. But if your are rebellious, bad tempered or naughty, then watch out! You'll really catch it! Just understand, for once and all, that the dog whip or the riding crop will always be within reach ..."

Again she paused for greater effect. "Now listen carefully. There is one physical difference between you and a real bitch. Bitches don't have exciting little beauty buds! No animals do, only female human beings. So real bitches can't play with themselves and they only have sex when they come on heat. I've told you I want you to think of yourself in future as a bitch dog, and not as a human being any more. And I'm certainly not going to have you playing with yourself as you sit like a little dog in your kennels. The black eunuchs don't allow it in the harem, and I won't allow it in my kennels. So I am seriously thinking of having your little clitoris cut off. It's such a simple little operation, and is often done to girls in this part of the world. My veterinary surgeon tells me he could do it in a matter of minutes. Just a little splaying of the lips, he says, and then ... snip!"

She laughed horribly.

"Then you'd be more like a real little bitch than ever - and you wouldn't be tempted to misbehave in any human way."

Lose my clitoris! I thought in horror. My precious little beauty bud! I wanted to cry out in protest, but I was too frightened of this terrifying woman.

"But I've decided to be kind ... for the time being ... anyway, with your hands made into paws, it will be difficult for you to misbehave ... But, understand this ... if I or your keepers ever catch you at it, then I shall have your little bud removed forthwith ... Meanwhile, I shall enjoy watching you having all the desires and reactions of a real woman, but having to live and look like a dog!"

I gasped. Was there to be no end to the humiliation to which I was to be subjected? But at the same time I promised myself that I would never, never again touch myself. I could see that she really meant her threat. I must think of myself as a bitch and behave like one in all respects - or else! I remembered what she said about the Veterinary surgeon and just a little snip. It was too terrifying for words.

"Now, let's see how this suits you." She took off my collar and instead buckled a beautiful yellow collar, covered with golden studs, round my neck. She stepped back to get a better view and declared herself satisfied. Then making me turn she said: "Look at yourself in the mirror. You see? It really suits you."

Quickly she attached a lead to the collar ... I was forced to follow her.

8 - SHORN!

My wrists and ankles were still chained. Even if I stood up and tried to run away I could only have taken tiny steps. I was therefore absolutely at the mercy of my Mistress. She now amused herself by taking me for a walk, crawling at her feet, making me submit to the humiliation of, as she put it, having my submissiveness tested - and my obedience.

She took me through various rooms. We ran into several other women, before whom, unless they were servants, I had, under the threat of the whip, to prostrate myself. Then I had to lick their feet.

She led me into her boudoir where I had to kneel at her feet whilst she had her hair arranged by a slave girl. Then she took me into her bedroom. Throwing off her clothes except her slippers, she threw herself naked, on her back, over the edge of a wide couch, her feet still on the floor and wide apart.

Raising her dog whip, and giving my lead a tug, she made me kneel down on he floor between her legs.

She made me caress her all over with my tongue, starting with her feet and going up her legs, her thighs, her tummy, her arm-pits and her breasts, until seizing me by the hair she placed my head on her beauty lips. They were already wet with desire.

She had superb body, with magnificent firm breasts. I must admit that, particularly at the end, I began to apply myself almost eagerly to what I was ordered to do. I was also, however, driven on by sharp taps of her whip whenever my zeal to please her seemed to lag. At last I succeeded in obtaining a long cry of voluptuousness from my Mistress as her body relaxed, whilst my lips, my mouth and my nose were doused with her released juices.

All this had effected me as well. But remembering her terrible warning, and with my wrists still chained by the clanking manacle, I did not dare to not reach down to touch myself. Nevertheless I could feel that my beauty lips were also moist and aroused. I was hoping that my Mistress might now in return bring me to the climax for which I was so longing. But instead she suddenly kicked me away. I fell to the floor amongst a rattle of chains. My hair was scattered all over my shoulders. I was exhausted, and my bottom was now again well and truly striped.

I was awoken out of my lethargy by a stroke of the whip across my breasts which made me cry out, whereupon my Mistress amused herself by stroking my face and breasts and then began to pinch the latter, fixing me with her piercing green eyes and making me ... smile at her!

Then, she got up, put on a light kimono-like robe and, pulling my lead, took me out onto a large terrace where I had to kneel down again whilst she fastened my lead to a ring embedded in the balustrade.

She rang a little bell to call for two of her servant women, and told them to bring scissors, clippers, tweezers and a razor. I gave a shiver of apprehension at the thought that my lovely hair, of which I was so proud, was now finally going to be removed. Tears ran down my cheeks. With my hands fastened behind my back, I could not even dry them.

My Mistress comfortably installed herself in a rocking chair from which she directed the work of the servants, strong-looking mulatto women, who immediately got down to work. Emotion and bitterness swelled up in me as I saw my beautiful hair falling to the ground. I could hardly keep still. Indeed it took several strokes of my Mistress's fearsome whip to make me maintain my position - kneeling on all fours with my head raised.

As soon as my hair had been cut short, it was the turn of the clippers to carry on the destructive work. Then the women smeared my scull with soap and started to shave my entire head. Pleased with their work, they rubbed a burning cream into my now hairless cranium - doubtless it was intended to attack the roots of my hair and stop them from growing again.

My Mistress then got up. Smiling she ran her hand over my now quite smooth head and told the mulatto women to give it a good polish. The women began to rub a sort of saddle soap into my scalp and then to polish it with a soft cloth whilst my Mistress watched. It was too awful for words.

Then my Mistress rang again. An Indian, who appeared to be a sort of tailor, was shown in. I was horrified to be seen hairless and naked by a strange man. He measured my head and neck very carefully, writing down the measurements. I gathered that he would be making me a headpiece to cover my bald head. I blushed with shame as I heard my Mistress tell the mulatto women, who were sweeping up my hair, to keep the longer strands so that she could have a little tail made for her dog - made from the dog's own hair!

Then she had the blinds lowered over the terrace to keep the sun off her. A sort of gynaecological examination couch was wheeled in. I was made to lie on it on my back. My ankle chains were removed ... but not for long! My wrists manacles were strapped to a bar behind my head and my now free ankles were fastened into the raised stirrups of the couch. Once again I was helpless as they checked the removal of all the hair from my body ...

First, the mulatto servant women smeared my armpits with soap and then shaved off all my hair. But far more humiliating and painful was when they and my Mistress bent over my body, parted my body lips and started to pluck out the little hairs that had re-grown since I had first been depilated on my arrival in the harem. It was a horrible feeling them running their hands along my lips to check that no hairs had been overlooked. It also hurt as each little hair was painstakingly plucked out.

The whole operation took some time, but I must admit that it was perfectly done. After being powdered like a baby, I was pulled up onto my feet, and invited to look at myself in the mirror. As I did so she ran her hands over my now polished scalp and my powdered beauty lips, like a horse dealer patting the neck of a mare. She seemed very pleased. I was red with shame. I was by now used to the look of my hairless beauty lips, but the sight of my bald and highly polished scalp was too much for me. I broke into tears again. I felt utterly degraded.

Then she called back the Indian again, and invited him to take more measurements, this time of my entire body. At the same time he produced two different drawings of headpieces in the form of a dog mask. They would cover my entire head, hiding my neck and my now smooth scalp. Each had two little slits for my ears to go through and would grip my cheeks and chin tightly. One of the patterns had a little circular cut-out for my eyes, my nose and my mouth, the other just had two little holes for my eyes, another two for my nostrils and just a slit for my mouth. It was this latter that my Mistress decided on. It would, she said, make me look more 'dodgy'. She did not, she said, want to see my face again.

The Indian also produced a separate muzzle that could be fastened when desired over my headpiece. It was in the form of a strap that went round my my neck, and over the top of my head. Here it was passed through two slits in the material of the headpiece, before going down between my eyes where it divided in two, to be fastened tightly under the chin - whilst holding a gag in my mouth - making it impossible for me to speak.

Like the headpiece, the muzzle made me look terrifyingly animal-like. My alarm was not relieved when I heard that the other measurements were to enable him to proceed with a 'suit' for the rest of my body.

My Mistress then kept me lying curled up at her feet for the rest of the day, my hands still manacled and my ankles again chained. A lead always fastened to my collar. Occasionally, as she read or wrote, I would feel her feet, now shod in European high heel shoes, driving into my flesh merely for her amusement, or turning me over onto my back and then back onto my belly depending on her whim. I did not dare to question her orders.

Twice she took me out with her into her private garden for what she called 'a little walk'. I had to walk humbly behind her, held on the lead, until to my horror, she would order me to relieve myself.

Thus it was that twice I had to learn to thrust my buttocks back and spend a penny on all fours, whilst she held me on the lead, looking on, sniggering and making denigrating remarks.

"Well, you'd better get used to doing your business like this, on all fours," she laughed.

"Yes, Mistress ..." I replied with a sob.

"Now stop snivelling! I don't want any stupid and useless whining. You are a little bitch now and will a bitch. And you will live like a dog and be treated and trained like one!"

Submissively, I lowered my head ... I was utterly defeated.

9 - LOOKING LIKE A DOG

Towards evening, the Indian who had taken my measurements, returned with a large parcel. My Mistress took off my wrist and ankle chains and the fitting started. The man had worked quite extraordinarily quickly, for the costume was virtually ready.

The headpiece was tried on first. It was like a dog's mask. Just as the demanding Princess Raisa had ordered, it completely covered my head and face, leaving just little holes for my eyes, nostrils and mouth as well as for the two ears which were now covered by two very realistic and stiff and pointed ears. My head now looked like that of a Great Dane with black and white markings. No further alterations were needed for the head piece, and indeed my Mistress now closed it completely by its zip fastener. Then she put on my muzzle, which I saw in a mirror made me look just like a muzzled dog.

My legs, right up to my thighs, were now tightly covered with real dog skin leggings. They had the same black and white markings and fastened with a hidden zip fastener. This was, I later learned, so that they could be readily removed for cleaning. Just as my Mistress had described, a thick rubberised pad had been sewn over the knees. The ends of the feet had also been stuffed with rubberised plastic to protect my toes when crawling on my knees.

My arms were covered with a sort of long glove, also made from the same black and white dog skin. They would be fastened to the tunic at the shoulders by press buttons and laces threaded through little holes. The leggings would similarly be attached to the tunic at the thigh.

The palms of my hands and my fingers, which would be in direct contact with the ground, were reinforced with a rubberised pad, which formed a paw shaped to hold the fingers. Inside it my fingers could hardly move. I could not grip anything.

All these items fitted me so well that my Mistress decided that no alterations were required.

It was now time to try on the tunic itself. This was again made of real dog skin. It was joined to the headpiece at the neck and completely covered my back and ribs. My breasts were left bare by two tightly fitting cutouts separated by a strip of skin which ran down from my neck to my belly.

The tunic fitted really tightly over my tummy, with elastic panels on the sides to ensure that the dog skin moved perfectly with my breathing and showed every little movement of the muscles underneath it.

The tunic was cut away in a pretty little half circle just above my beauty lips which were left bare and exposed, for the dog skin did not reach down between my legs - in order not to interfere with the performance of my natural functions.

At the back, the tunic ended in a point over my coccyx and was fastened to the leggings at the thigh.

A false tail had been provided, made from a braid of my own hair. This had been attached to a small plastic plug that, to my horror, was inserted into my bottom. A little flange prevented it from accidentally falling out - or from being expelled my me. It would only be removed to allow me to relieve myself.

The tail wagged with every my every movement and I had to learn to wag it when kneeling still, by wriggling my bottom. As I was kept muzzled, wagging my tail was to be my main method of communicating with my Mistress - just like a real dog.

Moreover, Raisa said, she would enjoy stroking her little bitch's real hair whenever she felt like it - especially as she knew that I would then be feeling the little movement of the plug up my bottom.

Finally, the cheeks of my bottom and my brand mark were displayed through two circular holes carefully cut in the dog skin, leaving my bottom quite unprotected and ready for the whip, whilst the brand identified myself as a animal belonging to the all-powerful Sheik.

Only two little alterations were needed by the tunic and the Indian then left to have them made in his workshop. Two hours later he was back again. I then had my last and final fitting, and my Mistress decided that I should now be put into my dog skin and now start my new life as an animal, living on all fours.

I was virtually sewn into my dog skin!

My old life as a pretty and vivacious young woman was over. From that moment on, I was forced to look and act like a member of the canine race, to which, by order of my Master, the Sheik, I now belonged.

My Mistress also ordered two other identical costumes for me, but in different colours, which the Indian started to make on the spot. Throughout the long fittings, whilst testing the elasticity of the tunic or the strength of the fastening and fittings, my Mistress kept on making affectionate, but terribly humiliating remarks.

"That fits her like a second skin ... Oh isn't my little dog going to be such a pretty little bitch ..." Then, standing to get a better view of me, she would make me kneel up, crawl, put my head to the ground or curl up just like a real little dog ... "Oh, it really suits her! I'm going to love having my little dog with me ..."

But I felt even more humiliated when she added: "Oh, how excited the real dogs are going to be when they see such an attractive bitch!"

She felt with approval the elasticated skin over my tummy. "Yes, we want to allow room for expansion here, don't we?" she laughed enigmatically. I wondered what she meant. Was I going to be fattened?

The Indian finished his work that same evening. My Mistress was so pleased that she gave him an extra big tip to pass onto all those who had worked on my costume.

The Princess then amused herself greatly taking me for walks all over the palace. She was so proud to show me off. She held me by my lead, and I had to follow her on all fours. Stopping in front of a mirror, she turned to me.

"Well have you seen yourself, little dog? Have you seen what I have done to you in just a few hours?"

"Yes, Mistress." I felt so ashamed. Only my white hanging breasts disclosed that I was not a real dog.

"So you understand, do you, that as from now on this is what you are going to have to wear? The headpiece will only be taken off when your head is shaved each week, and the rest of the dogsuit will only be taken off when the negro keepers carry out the regular checks on your bodily hygiene and cleanliness.

"They will wash you, brush you, get rid of your fleas, give you a douche, and carry out all the most intimate little bodily tasks that hitherto you've done for yourself - for you'll never again be allowed the use of your hands. They will cut your nails and rub you down like an animal. They will also, of course, be keeping an eye on your wastes, making you do your business on the leash, or under their eyes so that they can keep a close check on your health!"

She paused and smiled. "And it will be they who will clean your little backside when they remove your tail plug so that you pass y our wastes. They'll then powder it and even scent it so that you are always impeccably clean and spotless whenever I send for you.

"You must always do exactly what they tell you. And just remember that they have the right to beat and punish you as they think fit - quite apart from any further action that I myself may take if they give me a bad report about you. So all you have got to do is behave yourself and do what you are told. Do you understand, girl?"

"Yes, Mistress," I sobbed in despair under my mask.

"You must forget that you're a woman, an Englishwoman, or that you've ever been called Sally. From now on your face is going to be totally hidden under your headpiece and your name is Kelbai, which in our Arabic dialect means a young brood bitch. Isn't it a pretty name? Answer me, damn you!" She raised her dog whip and I shrank back, terrified.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Normally, you will spend much of the day with me, chained at my feet, but always hidden inside your dogskin and headpiece - and muzzled! If I sleep or doze off, you will watch over me while I rest, but at night I intend to be alone and free to amuse myself with my slave girls - and not to have to worry about a mere animal like you. So, every evening, you will be put into your kennels - where, incidentally, you're going to be put later this evening ... And you'll spend all day tomorrow there to get used to it, as I shall be away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress."

But she still hadn't finished showing me off! As a final test of my submissiveness, I was taken on a lead, muzzled and crawling on all fours and peering through the small eyeholes of the mask, to the private apartments of her father, the Sheik. He burst out laughing when he saw me, the crawling girl-dog with her head and face completely hidden.

"Ah! Is this really the little English girl whom I had thought of making queen of my harem, and my favourite concubine?" he asked with a sneer, speaking in English for my benefit. "What a silly mistake I'd have made! She's much more suitable for the kennels. My dear daughter, I must congratulate you. But please, promise me to train her properly and do not to be afraid to whip her - she certainly deserves it!"

"Don't worry, Father!" came the reply. "I've got to get her ready for her future duties ... "

She gave my lead a tug and gave me a sharp tap across my exposed buttocks. "Come here Kelbai! Now sit up and beg in front of your Master!"

And that's just what I had to do, sitting back on my hind legs, my face totally hidden under the dog mask, and holding up my two hands hidden in their horn-like paws.

"Well done, Raisa! Just don't let her get away with anything!"

But I suffered even worse shame and humiliation, when having been taken by Raisa to another wing of the palace, I found myself in front of Faisal, my own husband! He was drinking coffee with ... his new wife!

They had got married a few days earlier and were staying as guests of the Sheik, or so I learned listening to their conversation in English, as I lay on the floor, being periodically kicked by my my haughty Mistress.

They were having the honeymoon that I had been so looking forward to enjoying with my handsome young husband!

Under my dog's headpiece, I went red with shame, unable to do anything other than keep quiet and listen, as they sarcastically discussed me, once again in English.

"Darling, you can see what a pretty little dog, this Kelbai has become," I heard my husband say to his newly married bride. "And don't forget that it was Raisa who first had the bright idea of me bringing a pretty English girl here, first as a present for the harem of Cousin Said and then for her uses. Of course, she had planned to get her hands on the girl from the start! Anyway, congratulations, Raisa! You certainly are an absolute wonder to have transformed the girl so quickly ... But make sure you train her properly! And don't hesitate to use the whip! She's a stubborn little animal, and needs to be taken down a peg or two!"

I was horrified to hear him speak so callously. And once I had thought that he was in love with me! What a stupid little romantic fool I had been!

"Do you think she's big enough?" I heard Faisal ask my Mistress. She's nice and tall, but still quite slender."

"She won't be for long,' laughed Raisa. 'Yes, you chose very well. I think she's just what I need for my purpose: nice big hips, a long back and good breasts

I blushed under my dog mask. What did my Mistress mean? However before I could further ponder her words, I heard her speaking to her friend, Alysha, Faisal's new wife.

"If you're interested, darling, I'll certainly lend her to you. But first she must be given more training. I've scarcely started to teach her anything yet!" She unfastened my muzzle. "This is her first little outing with her Mistress. Isn't that so, Kelbai?"

I didn't say anything and got a stinging stroke of her whip across my exposed breasts, hanging down under me as I knelt on all fours.

"Yes, Mistress," I screamed.

"Good! I'll allow you this evening, for the last time, to use your little tongue, but only to say 'Yes, Mistress' or 'No, Mistress'. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress ..."

"Oh! She's turned out superbly and her coat really shines," cried Alysha, as she first stroked me and then played with my ears, before reaching down, at Raisa's insistence to feel my breasts and to squeeze my nipples.

"Beg!" ordered Raisa.

Feeling ashamed to do so, in front of Alysha and the man who was still officially my husband, I hesitated for a moment. Raisa immediately stood up, gave my lead a tug and raising her whip made me understand that, whether I liked it or not, I must squat on my hind legs, as I had done in front of the Sheik, and then beg with my two front paws.

I had to stay like that for ages under the threat of Raisa's raised whip, whilst the younger woman took hold of my breasts and without hurrying in any way, began to rub in her victory over me, her rival, by again feeling and examining me all over, as if I really were an animal. Then getting very excited herself, she squeezed my nipples again very hard, closing her eyes in pleasure and ecstasy, whilst she enjoyed a long and amorous kiss with her husband - who of course was also my husband!

Then, whilst Alysha recovered her composure, Faisal amused himself with me. He made me balance a lump of sugar on my nose. I had to wait for his order: "Catch! Kelbai!" Then I had to throw up my head and try and catch the sugar in my mouth under the little slit in the dog mask. Alas, I missed and the sugar fell to the floor. Poor me! Raisa gave me a couple of strokes across my bare bottom and made me go on trying and trying until at last I had mastered that particular trick. Then she put the muzzle back on.

We left, and as always I had to crawl behind Raisa on a lead. My bare little bottom now well striped again. It hurt! ... Ringing in my ears as I left were the mocking laughs of the two entwined lovers - on of whom was my ... my ... husband!

When we got back to my Mistress's apartment it was already dark. She rang, and in came a lovely Jewish girl, whom I had seen before and who had apparently been captured by Arab terrorists in a raid on an Israeli kibbutz and sold to Raisa. The Princess haughtily handed her the lead.

"Take it, Ruth, and lead Kelbai to the kennels. Ahmed will be expecting her and has got her cage ready ... Oh! And take my whip in case you have any problems with her ... Now, little dog, off to your kennel!"

She brought her dog whip down once again across my already very tender bottom, putting any ideas of resistance right out of my mind.

So it was that the new little dog was led on a lead to Raisa's kennels by a mere slave girl, who, jealous of the attention that Raisa had paid to me for most of the day, did not hesitate to use her Mistress's dog whip which she was now so proudly carrying.

10 - KENNELLED!

Princess Raisa was indeed a keen dog fancier and breeder. She exhibited in dog shows in several countries and had won many prizes.

She also employed an experienced staff of kennelmen who looked after the dogs, cleaning them, brushing them sponging them down, checking their bedding and the cleanliness of their kennels.

The cages in the menagerie, of which the Princess's kennels formed a part, were all in a long line, lit up at night by electricity. Each was some fifteen feet long and ten feet wide - big enough to allow the occupants to keep themselves exercised. The sides and roof were made of strong iron bars placed sufficiently close together to protect their valuable inhabitants from vultures or wild beasts.

At the back of each cage, a small piece of roofing was fastened to the overhead bars forming a simple shelter which offered some protection from the sun and rain. It offered little privacy, however, for it was open at the front, and the sides were formed of the same iron bars that formed the cages themselves. The shelter backed onto the service path behind the cages that was used by the keepers when feeding the occupants and when mucking out their cages.

The cages were only four feet high, making it impossible for a human dog, like myself, to stand up. So I was kept constantly down on all fours, like the real dogs. The floor of each cage was just a mixture of sand and cement.

In the middle of the cage, embedded into the cement, was a large ring to which was attached a length of heavy chain, long enough to allow an animal, to which it was attached, to reach into the front of the cage and the shelter at the back.

The main doors on the front of each cage were locked on the outside and were also fitted with strong bolts. There were also two sliding doors in each cage. One was in the roof of the shelter. The other was situated at the back of the shelter, to allow access from the cleaning passage.

Above the main door of each cage was a special board on which were written in Arabic and English details of the occupant: age, sex, breed, origin, date of purchase, number of litters, date next due to be covered, expected date of whelping and other information. So it was that when I arrived in front of cage no 26, the one to which I had been allocated, I was horrified to read: "Kelbai, 19 years old, female, white, English, presented by His Highness Sheik Said bin Fuad. Breeding plans: to be decided."

The Jewish slave girl handed over my lead to a big, intelligent-looking negro who, taking a key from the bunch hanging from his belt, unlocked the door of my cage. He now took off my collar and lead and hung them up on a hook on the outside of the cage. Then he took off my muzzle and with a kick he pushed me into the cage and fastened the big iron collar, attached to the end of the heavy chain, round my neck. I shall never forget the first time that I heard the click of the collar's lock. It seemed to symbolise once and for all the end of my previous existence and the start of a new as a real little bitch, treated and looking like one and kept on a chain in a kennel.

I now found that my slightest movement caused a rattling noise as the links of the chain clinked together. I soon realised that the sheer weight of the chain served to keep my muscles exercised as I moved around my cage.

Having shut me in for the night, the Jewish girl and the negro left, glancing back at me with a contemptuous smile and exchanging knowing looks.

Left alone in the cage, I slowly explored it, dragging my heavy neck chain along behind me. Unable to speak, to use my hands, now now transformed into helpless paws, or to stand up, I was indeed now living like a real kennelled dog.

It was feeding time, and all around I heard the baying of dogs and the cries of different types of wild animals that the Sheik liked to keep in captivity. Being muzzled, of course there was no question of me adding my cries to the din.

Terrified I crawled into the back of the cage, or run, and found the shelter. Inside it were two dog bowls. One was full of water and the other had some dog biscuits mixed with bits of raw dog meat. I recoiled in horror, even though I felt very hungry. I had not fully realised that my Mistress in making me live like a dog would actually feed me on dog food as well!

My Keeper now unstrapped my muzzle and I was free to eat up like the other animals. I had not eaten all day, and my hunger overcame my qualms. Putting my face, or rather my dog's mask, into the smelly mess, I managed to gobble up several mouthfuls. It did not taste as awful as I thought it would.

Then, having watched me eat, the Keeper came and put my horrible muzzle back on again. Evidently it would only be taken off, in future, at feeding times - and of course, when I was required to arouse my Mistress. Clearly depriving me of the ability to talk was to be a key feature of training me to act, and indeed think, like a dog.

There was a small pile of fresh straw in the shelter, clearly intended to be used as litter. Utterly exhausted, emotionally and physically, I used by paws to spread the straw a little and then lay down on it and fell asleep.

I slept like a log, and the sun was already blazing down, when waking up I saw the front paws of a dog gripping the heavy bars that separated our two cages.

He was a gorgeous looking Great Dane. Shocked, I saw him cock his leg against one of the bars. His black and white markings were very similar to those of my own dog skin. As I crawled out towards him, he seemed to be higher than me.

He was making friendly whining noises and his tongue was hanging out. Clearly he was trying to get at me so as to greet his new neighbour with a friendly lick!

Shocked, I looked towards the cage on the other side. I saw that it was separated from mine by a gap of about a yard. That was just as well, for walking up and down his cage and growling at me menacingly and hungrily was a real leopard, My God!

This was the end, I thought bitterly. When I had been put in my cage, it had already been dark and I could see little, except that all the cages seemed to be occupied by animals. But I had hoped to find, in the next door cages, some female companion of my own human race - perhaps another harem girl who had annoyed the Sheik. We might not have had a common language, but it would have been reassuring.

Instead, however, Raisa had deliberately surrounded me on one side with a real Great Dane dog and on the other with a fierce and frightening looking leopard, who was snarling at me and jumping angrily at the bars that separated us. I kept well away from him.

What could I now do other than accept my fate? How awful it was!

Despairingly I crawled round the outside of the shelter. Suddenly the heavy chain gave my iron collar a violent jerk. Caught up in the posts that supported the simple roof of the shelter, I was reminded brutally of its length. I crawled back into the open shelter, which would from now be my home and took a closer look at it.

Outside the shelter was another strip of cement on which were painted several strange red circles. In one was a bowl.

Like the rest of my little run the shelter was spotlessly clean. The cement floor was slightly sloped. Two little channels in the cement were clearly intended to allow what I must, from now on, call further liquid manure, to run down into a drain, covered with a metal grill, at the back of the cage.

The two dog bowls that I had seen the previous night, fitted into circular depressions in the cement floor. I saw that there was still a few dog biscuits and lumps of meat in one of them. Just then my Keeper came and temporarily slipped off off my muzzle. Eagerly, all my inhibitions gone, and with the Keeper watching approvingly, I gulped them down. Before I could drink from the water bowl, the Keeper replaced my muzzle. But I found that I could suck up water through the straps of my muzzle.

Above the dog bowls, fastened to the bars at the side of the cage was a wet sponge and a sort of cotton tow rag - obviously intended for rubbing my muzzle against to keep it clean, just like a real dog may wipe its muzzle on grass after eating. I would soon learn also to use it to keep my beauty lips and backside clean.

The little pile of straw on which I had curled up and slept, took up one corner of the small shelter.

I realised that my Keepers must have had orders to let me rest for, as I dozed in the shelter, I had only one visitor, if I may call it that: a big black muscular arm which slid back the sliding door in the roof of the shelter, reached down to pick up the two empty dog bowls, and replaced them with full ones. Then the sliding door was silently closed again. I heard the bolts being slid back again on the outside.

It was some time later, whilst I was still lying curled up on the straw, having gulped down the food and sucked up the water, that I heard the bolts of the sliding door in the roof again being slid back, disclosing another Keeper. He was also black and was carrying a pitch fork with which he pushed me out into the open part of the cage.

After I had hurriedly crawled out of the shelter, he let down a heavy cast-iron plate over its front, thus barring me from going back in. The plate ran between two rails and could be raised or lowered using a light chain.

He then set about cleaning my straw, pushing the dirty straw out into the cleaning ally through the sliding door at the back. Then raising the cast-iron plate again and picking up a little dog whip, he pointed to the strange small circles painted in red in a line on the cement.

I was horrified when, with crude gestures, he gave me to understand that my first liquid waste each morning was to be dropped neatly into the bowl. I noticed later that this bowl was collected each morning and carefully taken away as if for analysis. Naively I wondered why.

I was horrified when my tail plug was removed and I was made to drop my solid wastes into the end red circle, so that my Keeper using a long stick could examine them and then replace my tail plug. Any subsequent droppings during the day had to be placed neatly in the next red circle and so one down the line so that the Keeper could keep a daily written record of the frequency and extent of my offerings. It also enabled him to show the veterinary surgeon the number of times I had performed and the consistency on each performance. Oh the shame!

I nearly died of embarrassment the first time my Keeper removed the plug and made it clear that I should now, whilst still remaining on all fours, make use of the first red circle. As I did not comply quickly enough for his liking, he gave me a carefully aimed stroke of his dog whip across one of my exposed nipples. That was enough to break my spirit. He made me separate my hind legs and thrust back with my backside just like a real dog. But he also made me looking down between my legs to make sure that nothing fell outside the red circle. It was too awful! On this occasion he even weighed my wastes after he had scooped them up into a bowl.

But worse was to follow, for when I had finished, he made me rub my backside against the wet sponge. Then I had to crawl over to him and present my backside to him. He then washed the most private parts of my body with soap and water, and dried me. It was just too awful for words when I felt his fingers penetrate enquiringly up inside my two orifices - something I would later have to get used to.

He then replaced my tail plug and hosed down the entire cage. He now sprayed it with antiseptic, checked the state of my litter, refilled my dog bowls, checked that everything was spotless clean, and left, bolting the sliding door behind him.

I tried to see more of the Menagerie of which the Kennels were just a part. But because the bars that formed the roof of the cage prevented me from standing up, I could only see just more and more cages. They seemed to be built in groups of about four in the shade of palm trees. each group mainly holding a different breed or type of animal. I wonder whether the occupants of one were human female dogs like me. But I could not see them properly.

Then for this first day in the Kennels I was left in peace to lie down, curl up and recuperate from all the stresses to which I had been submitted. It also gave me a chance to get used to the noises of the menagerie.

Towards the end of the afternoon, however, I was wakened from my sleep by a shout of 'Kelbai'. I raised my head and, to my astonishment, saw the huge ugly figure of Marak, the Sheik's chief black eunuch, who had come to scoff at me. I decided to pretend that I had not heard him, and remained lying down in my shelter. However, he sent for the duty Keeper who, whip in hand, slid back the sliding door in the roof of my shelter, and quickly made me crawl, dragging the heavy chain, to the front of the cage.

I had to listen through the bars that kept me in, to a long teasing speech, reminding me how my present treatment would last for ever; how it served me right for he had lost a bet that I would become the next favourite of the Master; and how I was a stupid little girl who only deserved the fate that Allah had decided.

For good measure, he added that the very worst thing that could have happened to me was to belong to the Princess Raisa and to be assigned to her private Kennels that formed part of the Menagerie. I would certainly be harshly treated and trained like a dog.

Then he was joined by another of the harem black eunuchs, and Marak delighted in pointing out my exposed, and freshly depilated, beauty lips. Then, perhaps even more humiliating, he told my Keeper to unfasten my muzzle, and then made me pick up lumps of sugar which they threw through the wire grill. Unable to use my hands to hold anything I had to pick them up with my teeth. I longed to chew the sugar, but they made me drop the lumps back into their hands. I did not dare to disobey, for my Keeper was standing there watching me, his whip in his hand.

"Well, well!" said Marak, seeing me disappointed at not being allowed to eat the sugar, "what a greedy little creature Kelbai has become!"

Furious, I turned to return to the shelter, but the Keeper with his menacingly raised whip made clear that I must remain there - and obey them.

Marak now called me right up to the bars and told me to sit up and beg, squatting on my hind legs. He and his companion then reached through the grill. Each gripped one of my nipples and pulled them through the wire fence, and then amused themselves pinching and squeezing them. It was another step in my steady degeneration. I longed to spit in their faces through my dog mask. Luckily for me, however, I managed to hold myself back.

Finally they left. Crying and unable to use my hands to ease the pain in my breasts, I crawled back to my little shelter - once again dragging my heavy chain as I went.

That evening, Ruth, the Jewish girl who had brought me to the Kennels, came to tell my Keeper that her Mistress would see me the following morning and that I was to be presented to her clean, douched, washed, brushed and de-fleaed!

My neighbour, the Great Dane, gave a bark in what seemed to be sympathy. Gratefully, I quickly crawled over to him. Under my dog mask, I smiled at him. He seemed to want to be genuinely friendly. Convinced that I had at least found one friend in Arabia, I went back to my shelter and fell asleep.

Next morning I was woken up early and had to submit to the same humiliating attentions as on the previous day. But this time, having first made me perform in front of them onto the red circle, the Keepers then shut me in the shelter by dropping the plate across the front.

I was then stripped naked from head to toe. They now applied the hose to my whole body. Under the pretext of wanting to have a close look a my personal hygiene, they then made me offer my bottom and my beauty lips for yet another humiliating inspection.

Then they cut my finger and toe nails and put me back into the dog skin. They took off the iron collar of the cage, and brushed and scented me all over.

With just my lead fastened to my pretty studded dog collar, as it had been when I arrived in the Kennels, I knelt in my cage awaiting the arrival of Ruth.

When at last she arrived, I saw that she had a long dog whip in her hands, making me anxious not to annoy her in any way. I was taken out of my cage, and my lead handed to her so that she could take me to our Mistress. However, leading me down a steep little path, she turned round to look at me and tripped up. I, of course, was blamed!

Ruth did not hide her delight as she applied her whip to my bottom and indeed I could see that it was exciting her. However, as she did not presumably want to mark me too badly, she just gave me half a dozen strokes and then ordered me to sit and beg.

I obeyed and, like Marak the previous evening, she took further delight in pinching my breasts. Then she looked round to see that no one was watching, separated her thighs and pushed my head under her skirt.

"Lick, you English bitch," she ordered, giving me another sharp cut across my backside. I obeyed, swallowing my saliva to which was now added the overflowing juices of my conductress.

To protect herself, she told Raisa that I had been naughty and that as a result she had had to give me a little punishment.

"Good!" Raisa told her. "You were quite right, Ruth, and now you will give her another six strokes in front of me. Go on!"

The young Jewess did not have to be told twice. My poor little bottom again suffered horribly. As she turned to leave, she looked at me in such a superior and smug way that Raisa was highly amused and stopped her.

"Make her kiss your feet!"

Without waiting to be told, I kissed them, to Ruth's great delight. I knew that she was an enemy but I did not fully understand the reason: jealousy!

11 - OH, THE AGONY OF BEING KEPT FRUSTRATED!

My Mistress was lying, stark naked, on her large couch. Her splendid and well proportioned body contrasted sharply with the pile of animal skins on which she lay. Ruth had taken off my muzzle - a sign, as I as slater to learn, that my tongue was about to be used to pleasure the proud Princess.

"Kelbai! Here dog!" Raisa called to me. "Crawl over here at once. Then kneel up next to my bed and beg!"

I was about to obey when, I don't know how, I caught my front paws in the fringe of the carpet and I was slightly delayed in carrying out her order. Furious at what she took to be disobedience, my Mistress jumped up and picked up a cane which she kept by her couch. Then, pressing my neck down with her foot, she brought her cane down across the exposed cheeks of my bottom.

My muzzle having removed, I was able to beg for mercy, but this only enraged the Princess all the more.

"Haven't I already told you that you are not to speak, but only bark? Can't you understand simply English? Do you now understand that, for once and for all? Now bark!"

Whilst she was speaking, she did not stop beating my poor little bottom which was already well striped. Desperate to protect my bottom, I rolled over onto my back - only to get a cut from the cane across my bare breasts.

"Bark, I said,"

"Woof! Woof!" I cried.

"Now lick my feet," she ordered. Overcome and crushed, my buttocks and breasts on fire, I licked with such zeal that my Mistress, whose skin I felt quivering, experienced real pleasure.

"Well! Well!" she said laughing at my zeal and anxiousness to please. She stroked my head and my hanging breasts with her hand. "Look at that! You've certainly got a good little bitch's tongue, my little Kelbai. Oh! Oh! Yes I can see you're going to make a really good licking bitch!"

Then I received the order to lick her legs, and to go up along her thighs, the small of her back, her stomach, her breasts ... and then, breathlessly ... she offered me her already moist sex. I must admit that I, too, was getting pretty excited by the game I was being made to play, and I licked with real pleasure, if not with ... love!

It was certainly true that Raisa was a very beautiful woman, and that she really let herself go under my caresses whilst reaching out with her long thin fingers for my nipples which she pinched very hard. As she called out with pleasure, I had to suffer pain, both for her amusement and to show my devotion to her ... until she suddenly reached her climax.

Then she kicked me away, and lying flat on my face by her bed I felt her soft hand stroking the back of my dog's headpiece. At this mere touch I felt a little thrill and I gave a shiver ... was I falling in love with my Mistress?

After resting for a few minutes, she recovered, and spoke to me brusquely but also kindly.

"So, my little Kelbai? Are you going to sit up and beg, like a good little dog?"

She had her cane in her hand! Humbly and submissively, I obeyed, sitting back on my hind legs and holding up my two front paws. I sat up and begged like a little dog begging for a reward from its Mistress.

"Good, little dog!" she said to me, taking a lump of sugar which she delicately placed on the nose of the dog mask whilst making me lean my head a little backwards. "Catch!" she cried and with a jerk of my head. I again performed my little trick, catching the lump with my mouth. I chewed the sugar and lowered my eyes submissively ... but happy to have pleased my Mistress.

I spent the rest of the day lying at her feet. She repeatedly told me that she was going to make me think of myself now as a dog and to forget that I had ever been a human being. I was going to be trained to think and act like a dog both physically and psychologically. The Princess explained that at first this training would be hard for me, because I had been a free and independent young woman, and that therefore she would have to thrash me often and punish me for the slightest fault or awkwardness. However I must loyally submit to it all, to prove my love. If as a result I really became devoted to her, like a real little dog, faithful and ... jealous, then I would have a happy life in captivity - a captivity from which I would never be released, for I would always have to wear my dogskin with my face totally hidden under the dog mask.

She added that she really liked the softness of my tongue. I blushed under my dog mask at the thought that it was in the harem, under the whip of Marak, that I had been made to learn the art of lesbianism. Had that all been arranged and planned by her?

However, she added, my tongue now had to be trained to give a woman even more pleasure, and this would take time and a lot of practise. To make my tongue really subtle and agile, I would have to exercise its muscles for at least an hour every day, learning to thrust it out much more beyond my dog mask, and to move it much more quickly, both to and fro and up and down.

For this I would be made, for instance, to lap up a bowl of milk over which a wire screen had been placed and through which I would really have to stretch out repeatedly with my tongue to get at the milk, and then transfer it all, just a few drops at a time, into another little bowl alongside it. If the milk had not all been painstakingly transferred within the set time, then I would get the cane!

This proved to be exhausting work initially, but it certainly made my tongue far more supple - much to my Mistress's delight. Indeed, she said after a few days, I now seemed to be able to get my tongue almost as far out as a real dog.

Another little exercise she made me do was to pick up peanuts one by one with my lips and transfer them from one bowl to another. Here again I had to work against the clock with the threat of a thrashing if I was not fast enough. This exercise, my Mistress told me, was to make my muscles of my mouth much more supple and to allow me to go on and on, rapidly pouting and pressing my lips against the beauty lips of my Mistress. Soon my newly trained tongue and lip muscles would allow me to go on giving intense pleasure to her for what seemed to be hours. But she still made me continue with my training.

"For," she said slowly in her rather precise English, "not only do I intend you to use your tongue for my own pleasure, but I also intend to allow my women friends to appreciate its softness and the way you have been trained to use it! And you must obey my friends as you would obey me. Then I will know that you really love me!"

She laughed cruelly.

"And don't forget that depending on how pleased I am with you, you will either be caressed by my hand - or feel my cane. For one thing is certain - you will never receive any pleasure except from my hand, and then only in direct proportion to the pain you also receive from my cane."

My Mistress also told me that the other dog outfits that she had ordered for me were nearly ready. "Except for their colour they will be identical to the one you are now wearing, so that you'll have a complete trousseau, should I ever decide to sell you. Not only will this make you more valuable, but I will then be certain that you will still remain for the rest of your life what I will have made you into: a happy little dog."

My dog skin had certainly been very cleverly designed and thought out. Crawling crawling on all fours became increasingly natural and the padding on my knees, on my feet and on my hands prevented me from hurting or scraping myself.

So my Mistress was able to take me with her on a lead on all her little excursions, not only in the palace and the gardens, where she would make me do my business whilst looking up at her with love, from behind my dog mask, but she also took me, safely shut in her car, when she went visiting her friends and even when she went into town.

Clearly, the more she felt I was really her well trained little dog, the more Raisa was proud, happy and fulfilled, and hence the more I was patted and stroked. This was something that I was learning to appreciate more and more, especially when I was allowed to put my dog's muzzle on her knees, or between her thighs, breathing in her intimate scents and closing my eyes ... with pleasure!

When it was evening, she used to take me back to the Kennels herself which made me happy and proud at having not been handed over to the horrible Jewish girl. Raisa herself would put me back into my cage, and fasten onto my collar the the heavy chain which, as she intended, had a strong psychological affect on me - making me realise deep down the helplessness of my position.

Then, giving me a little wave of her hand, she would leave. Now feeling very hungry, as I was not allowed anything to eat when out of the Kennels, I would eagerly wait for my Keeper to release my muzzle and would then throw myself onto the waiting bowl of dog biscuits and raw meat and gulp them up.

So it was that I got used to being taken out of the Kennels every morning at about nine o'clock, and not brought back, except in exceptional circumstances, until nightfall.

But before lying down on my straw I would go and exchange a few innocent little kisses through the bars of my cage friendly neighbour, the real Great Dane.

At first we used to simply push our dog's muzzles towards each other, but soon I learnt that, behaving like a real dog, he would prefer to sniff and lick my bottom as I pressed it against the bars that separated us. He would even give it several licks with his long tongue - something I soon learned to enjoy!

Indeed I must confess that I struck up a really affectionate friendship with my neighbour. We used to spend longer and longer every evening pressed up against the bars that separated us. He would rub himself against it, stroking me with the tip of his tongue and, of course, sniff my beauty lips intently.

Yes, I must admit that this was the best moment of the day, away at last from the eternal fear of my Mistress's whip. I regarded him as a real friend who shared my captivity. Of course, he could not really do much for me, but his simple and frank friendship was such a change from all the deceptions that I had suffered, that I finished by accepting it.

His name was Tiny, presumably a carry over from Raisa's days in England. But I knew nothing about him.

Certainly he was as big as me and he had almost the same markings on his skin as my dog skin. We must have looked a pretty couple.

The training which my Mistress forced me to undergo must have lasted about a month. Living the life of a dog, with no access to calendars and unable to use my hands to mark the passing of the days, I cannot be sure. Certainly I suffered many thrashings, the memory of which is still with me.

On several evenings I returned to the Kennels almost unable to crawl, having been beaten more often than usual. My buttocks would be marked with the stripes of the riding whip, the dog whip or the strap. My breasts would be on fire after being cruelly treated and pinched.

It was then that I would greet my good friend Tiny with delight and closing my eyes would allow him to stroke me with his tongue, as if he wanted to heal my weals ... but always there was the iron bars separating us! I would go back to my straw litter, the heavy chain as always attached to my neck, and with my burning buttocks exposed to the air. But with my hands turned to helpless paws I could not even rub them to try and ease the pain.

From the very start, my Mistress, as well as concentrating on exercising my tongue, also made me do all sorts of exercises to make my body more supple and to move more and more like a real dog. But the most humiliating moments were when she made me bark and yap in different ways, and often in front of other women. I would only do it against my will and so out would come the riding crop or the dog whip. Crack! Crack! My buttocks would be almost continually red with the constant thrashings that I received.

I have to admit that my Mistress always obtained what she wanted. I learned to bark and wag my tail inn several different ways to express different things. I would have to bark in a friendly and exited way when, for instance, she said: "Kelbai! Fetch your lead! We're going for walkies."

However, when someone came into the room in which I was lying at her feet, or on all fours alongside her, then I would have to growl three times to warn her, raising my tail warningly. Or, if it was a certain previously designated person, like Ruth for instance, or a real dog or bitch, then I would have to make my growl of ... jealousy ... and behave accordingly. Indeed, my Mistress liked to make me feel jealous!

Equally, when I felt the need to relieve myself, I had to go up to her and make realistic movements with my dog-like muzzle and tail to make her understand my needs. Once when, perhaps deliberately, she kept me waiting, after removing my tail plug, I just had to use the corner of the room. This created a terrible scandal, and to house train me once and for all, I was given a terrible beating whilst my nose and mouth were rubbed into the mess that I had made.

But usually she would then take me on a lead out into the gardens or else have me taken out by one of her slave girls. She also trained me, when in the gardens, to sniff the ground and choose a suitable place, preferably sandy, before releasing my wastes. And afterwards I had to cover them up with earth or sand, scratching the ground with my hind legs, just like a real dog.

If we did meet a real male dog, I had to pull on my lead eagerly and then stop and, parting my knees, offer my bottom and beauty lips to be sniffed by my fellow creature. And if he was interested, and followed me, then I had to show him my teeth!

Certainly, the strict training methods used by my Mistress and her assistants, depending as they did on fear of the whip, were very effective. In only a couple of weeks I had learned all the habits and body language of real dogs, or rather of real bitches!

She liked to make me carry a newspaper or other object in my mouth, or to remain sitting up and begging for long periods, balancing something on my front paws. As I could not grip anything with my now helpless hands, I had to concentrate like mad lest the objects slipped and fell to the ground. And if they did? Then it was the riding whip or the dog whip for me! Sometimes it was both, for frequently my Mistress called in her chamber maid, or a slave-girl to help thrash me.

Indeed I lived under the continual fear of the whip.

My Mistress usually took her midday meal alone, or with some women friends in her apartments. I was then let in to lie at her feet and to act as a footstool for them. She used to really enjoy this, kicking off her babouches and amusing herself, whilst still eating and gossiping, by running her small fine feet all over my body. I must confess that these attentions would often give rise to little quivers of delight in my body ... which in turn would make her happy and pleased.

During her siesta, she would often put me at the foot of her bed. She would then produce a little chain fitted with metal clamps on either end, which she would fasten onto my nipples. The effect was to excite them greatly with the slightest movement. Then she would deign to offer her body to my now well trained tongue or lips.

So it was that she fully succeeded in putting the finishing touches to my lesbian education. I would now long for these delightful siesta moments, when I would apply myself passionately and lovingly to lavish my caresses on her. I used to close my eyes with pleasure and sensual delight, feeling her vibrating under the strokes of my increasingly adept tongue and realising that my own sex was also on fire with desire, or drowned in aroused humidity.

My Mistress, as I have said, was extremely beautiful from every point of view, and moreover the Eastern beauty treatments to which she submitted her body, baths of every sort, and in particular baths of ass's milk, all served to increase her attractiveness. She certainly succeeded in converting me into a loving little lesbian slave - a slave dressed as a dog.

Sinking into this voluptuousness, I found myself completely forgetting that I was a girl at all, never mind a married woman. Automatically I just thought about myself as another bitch, like the other animals in the menagerie. I was just the favourite pet bitch of my Mistress, to whom I owed blind obedience.

It was an illusion that my Keepers fostered by insisting on blindfolding me, every time that they stripped off my dog skin to give my body a good clean. I this way, I simply never saw my real human body, but only my dog skin. Even my exposed white breasts, or dog's teats as they were now often disparagingly termed, hanging down below me as I crawled and played like a dog, on all fours, did not seem to upset my illusion of now being a real dog.

The Keepers even hung a little mirror in my shelter so that when I peered into it, instead of seeing a pretty face, all that I saw was a very realistic dog's head with two tiny holes for my eyes. This was all part of the cunning game of making me think of myself all the time as just my Mistress's pet bitch, and no longer a human being.

There was another and more intimate way in which Raisa made me feel more like a bitch than a woman. She would make me pretend that since I was only a bitch, I did not have a beauty bud, and that therefore, I could not become properly aroused or climax until I next came on heat, something that, as a result, I found myself longing for!

Satiated by all my caresses, she would make me lie on my back on the sheep skin by the side of her bed. I would have to raise my hind legs in the air, whilst she stroked my beauty lips, ignoring my obvious arousal and pretending to commiserate with me.

"Oh my little Kelbai! What pleasure you could have if only you were a girl and not a bitch!" she would teasingly say. Then she would excite my breasts by pulling on the little chain that united them, before putting her hand down to my swelling little bud, driving me almost mad with desire. But instead of letting me climax in her hand, she would simply take her hand away teasingly.

"And if you were a girl, then you'd have a little beauty bud here and would get very excited. You'd like that wouldn't you, little bitch?"

She would amuse herself by further exciting me with the handle of her whip, watching my breasts carefully for the blotched red signs that showed when I was approaching a climax - and then quickly stopping. "But being just a bitch, you'll just have to wait until you next come on heat before you can have any real fun. It's also when they're on heat that they attract the dogs, isn't it little bitch?"

Oh, how I longed to scream out that on the contrary I was a girl, with a beauty bud, that I was madly excited even if I wasn't on heat and to beg her not to stop. But I did not dare do so. Not only was I scared stiff of the thrashing that I knew would follow, but I could not forget her warning that she would have my little beauty bud cut off if she ever found me climaxing without her express permission.

"Oh, little bitch," she would say with a cruel enigmatic smile, as if she knew something that I did not, "you are so longing to come on heat, aren't you? Think of the excitement of then being allowed by your Mistress to show your love for her by climaxing onto her open hand! Isn't that a thrilling idea, little bitch?"

And I would then have to yap my genuine wild excitement at the prospect - my cruel frustration temporarily forgotten. Surely I was due very soon.

"But meanwhile, little dog, you must sublime your desires into love for your Mistress. You're longing and longing for relief, I know, but you must just wait until your little dog's body says that it is ready. We can't go against nature, can we, my little Kelbai? Meanwhile, like one of your Christian nuns dedicating her sensuality to God, you must dedicate yourself to pleasing your Mistress more and more ... Now come and use your tongue again. Hurry!"

In this way she kept me wildly excited, terrified and utterly frustrated - and all at the same time! It was emotionally exhausting. But it really made me indeed sublimate all the pent-up, passionate desires, that she had so cleverly aroused in me, into worshipping her and adoring her as if she were a goddess ... I was only fit to please and excite her, not to take pleasure myself.

But I hated it when she made me please her women friends. They would be almost out of their minds with excitement at the idea of being pleasured by an English girl, dressed and kept as a dog. It was so degrading when my cruel Mistress told them not to bother about satisfying me since, being only a bitch, I could only get real satisfaction except when I was in season!

Despite the state of utter subservience to which she had reduced me, I gradually became used to my new life. I used to be genuinely happy when my Mistress did me the honour of stroking me. I used to be so proud when, thanks to applying my amorous attentions with sufficient zeal, I would get away for a whole day without once being thrashed or whipped.

I would return to my cage, to recount it all whilst yapping - yes, yapping! - to my kind neighbour, Tiny, who would stamp his feet with excitement at smelling my arousal ... and would lick me all the harder through the grill!

One evening I returned to my cage terribly excited after exchanging a long series of wonderful caresses with my Mistress. As usual she had reached a climax several times, each one more thrilling and satisfying than its predecessor. As usual, I had been left unsatisfied, and my beauty lips were on fire as the horrible Ruth led me back to the Menagerie - and out of spiteful jealousy gave me several strokes of her dog whip across my breasts and nipples, which had already been brought to a tantalising level of sensitivity by the kneading of my Mistresses's hands.

As soon as she had handed me over to the Keeper, and he had fastened the heavy chain to my collar, locked the door of my cage, and gone off, I went over to the bars that separated me from my friend Tiny. Like a real bitch on heat, I found myself appealing to him ... begging him ... to caress me as kneeling down on all fours I tried to rub my backside against the bars.

As soon as he smelt my arousal, he too became very excited, making little growling noises. Horrified, and yet fascinated, I saw his erect manhood forcing its way through its furry sheath.

The bars allowed him to caress me with his tongue. But how, I wondered desperately, could I offer my hot little beauty lips to his wonderful tongue?

Finally, looking carefully around to see that none of the Keepers were looking, I found that by lying on my back, with my legs in the air, I could just get my beauty lips pressed up against the mesh at the level of Tiny's nose.

Tiny, on his side of the fence, managed to align his nose with the right place in the bars and to pass his tongue through. He started to reward my burning lips with long, prolonged strokes of his tongue, similar to those that my Mistress had taught me to make. Alas, because of the close spacing of the bars, he was unable to penetrate me to the depth that I was crying out for, but patiently and tenaciously, he nevertheless managed to tickle my body continuously, until he brought me to a thrilling climax.

And so I finished by barking my delight, whilst the tongue of my companion obtained its reward by getting, not without some difficulty, at the liquids that were flowing from me.

My debasement was complete! Having been madly excited by my Mistress during the day, with the sensitivity of my body exacerbated by Ruth's whip, I had now just climaxed under the strokes of the tongue of my dog companion, who like me was chained by the neck.

And what did I feel as I gradually came back to my senses after climaxing for the first time in ages?

I felt a little feeling of satisfaction at having got my revenge on my Mistress who had kept me frustrated for so long! I loved her, though, and it was really her fault that I had been unfaithful to her - with a representative of the race to which she herself had made me belong - a Great Dane.

12 - AN ENFORCED MOTHERHOOD

So it was that the days passed ... I was getting more and more absorbed with my new life. I was also getting more used to it. Meanwhile, the strict training and discipline ensured that I carried out any orders given to me by my Mistress both swiftly and keenly - and without question.

As a result, I was now often able to avoid being whipped for a whole day at a time. But at the same time, although I kept telling myself to stand up to my cruel Mistress, I found myself masochistically enjoying feeling that I was just a little dog, owned by a Mistress, who seemed to become more beautiful and attractive with each passing day. I now obeyed her, and put up with her cruelty - and all the humiliations it amused her to impose on me - out of genuine love for her!

But I now began to feel that something strange was happening to my body - though of course I was never allowed to see it, and the hard material on my paws prevented me from being able to feel it, like a woman normally would. I kept having attacks of what seemed to be indigestion and sometimes felt sick in the mornings. There was a strange feeling sometimes in my breasts and they seemed to be getting heavier. I did not understand what was happening - or indeed if anything really was happening.

Moreover, being kept always on all fours, and never able to stand up in my cage, or allowed to do so in my Mistress's apartments, made it more difficult for me to see what, if anything, was happening under my dog skin. It had always, of course, been kept skin tight over my tummy by the strong elastic at the sides. Now it seemed ever tighter.

I longed to ask my Mistress about it, but I did not dare speak one word. I just had to show my concern with little barks and gestures with my eyes.

But my Mistress merely patted my dog's head saying, "Isn't my little bitch lucky having a Mistress who has her looked after so well! She's got nothing to worry about now and can just leave everything to her beautiful Mistress."

I did not understand what she meant, but to my embarrassment, my Mistress started calling in her Indian Veterinary Surgeon to inspect me intimately.

He used took me into his laboratory. He had all the latest equipment, including a sonic scanning machine. No expense was spared by Raisa when it came to breeding! Helplessly strapped down on a couch,I could not see the screen at which he and Raisa were looking at so intently, as he ran something strange over my tummy. I had never seen a scan before and did not then realise it's purpose.

He would keep pointing silently to things on the screen. He and Raisa seemed very pleased about something. I wondered what about.

They used to speak to each other in English, and I frequently heard him whisper that to her that everything was going satisfactorily. The Keeper in charge of me also changed, and the new negro seemed very keen on giving me milk to drink and special energy-giving food to eat. He also used to feel my tummy in a rather expert sort of way. He too used to come to the laboratory to see whatever it was that was being displayed on the screen.

But I still did not understand the significance of all these attentions.

The constant teasing, by my Mistress, of not allowing me to reach a climax until I came into heat, had made me look forward eagerly to a monthly event that I normally dreaded. I had no way of counting the passing of the days, but it did seem that this now much longed for time was being strangely delayed. Here again, I wanted to mention it to my Mistress, but simply did not dare to speak. Anyway I was completely in her hands.

My Mistress now had had one of my dog masks modified so that she could unfasten a little circular piece from the front of my mask leaving just my eyes, nose and mouth exposed. It now amused her occasionally to be reminded that under the dog's head was the face of a very pretty young woman!

She particularly liked to have my lips and eyes beautifully painted and made up by one of her slave girls, before any of her women friends came to see her. She would then have the face-piece of my mask replaced. Later, she would stand over me with her whip in her hand, and make me please her friend with my tongue, through the little slit over my mouth. Then, suddenly, she would reach down and unfasten the face-piece, disclosing my very English face to the astonished and delighted woman.

I was never allowed, of course, to look in a mirror when the face piece was off, for fear of setting back the mental process of being made to feel that I really was a dog and of forgetting that I had ever been a human being.

But it was on one such occasion, when I was kneeling on all fours at my Mistress's feet with my face-piece removed, that I suddenly felt, for the first time, as if something was moving inside me! I gave a little cry of pain, and hunched up, putting my paws to my tummy. A moment later it happened again. I grimaced with pain and looked up at my Mistress with surprise. Then I felt a little kick inside me.

Suddenly I realised what was happening, why had I not come on heat, as my Mistress humiliatingly called it, why I had felt so strange, why the Indian vet had been called to examine me and why my regime in the menagerie had changed. I must be pregnant! Yes, pregnant!

I saw my Mistress smile cruelly as she saw from my exposed face that I was now realising the truth.

I was pregnant! And my Mistress had known about if for some time! Was that why my liquid wastes had been taken away daily for testing? Was it at my little child that was she and the veterinary surgeon had been looking at on the screen?

I did not understand why she had not told me. Then I realised that as I was now a dog, she would not feel it necessary to do so. One did not, indeed could not, tell a real bitch that she was in-whelp, to use the humiliating word that my Mistress now used, as she covered up my horrified face with the face-piece.

"Yes, my little Kelbai, your Mistress is very pleased with you and you're going to make a fine brood bitch for your Mistress. Yes, you're now nicely in-whelp. I like a breeding slave to drop her first progeny whilst she's still in her teens."

Brood bitch! Breeding Slave! Was that what I am now, I thought, horrified. Drop her progeny! What a shameful expression. Like an animal!

"Yes," went on the Princess, "and, thanks to the fertility pills that Marak put you onto in the harem, you're going to present your Mistress with two pretty little bitches for her Kennels!"

My head reeled. Twins! Fertility pills! So that was what those strange red pills were!I remembered the strange instruction she had given Marak, after she had so embarrassingly inspected me naked in the bathroom. Had she then ordered him to put me on a course of fertility pills? But why? Did she want me pregnant just for her amusement? Being used to breeding from real bitches had she now wanted the even greater excitement of breeding from a human bitch? Oh how awful!

I must, I thought, have conceived during that awful night in the bed of the Sheik, when he had taken me several times violently and without taking any precautions. I remembered how Marak, the Sheik's chief black eunuch, had humiliatingly questioned me about my periods and had written it all down.

Had he and my Mistress carefully planned my presentation to the Sheik so that I went to his bed as a virgin just at the very time when I was most likely to conceive? Was that why Marak had strangely kept me untouched by the Sheik in the harem for some time? Had he wanted to be sure that I received the Sheik's seed just at the right time? But surely if the Sheik himself was the father, then I would not go on being treated like a dog?

"It does not matter by Islamic law," I heard my Mistress say, as if anticipating what I was thinking, "who the father is. The child of a slave girl is a slave and belongs to the girl's owner. You belong to me, and so will your little whelps!"

Whelps! What a humiliating word to use to a woman to describe her babies. But from the Princess's point of view it was a simple and straightforward matter, which she had planned from the beginning!

Of course, since she was now genuinely fond of her Kelbai, whom she had so painstakingly trained to perform as her expert lesbian slave, she was much concerned with the new and interesting state of her pet bitch.

That evening when I was returned to my cage I saw that the details on the board in front of it had been amended to read: "In whelp. Twin bitches." There was also an Expected Date of Whelping, but as it was written in the Moslem calendar, it meant nothing to me. In any case I had no access to a calendar of any type, Moslem or Christian. But seeing it certainly drove home my status as my Mistress's mere breeding slave.

From from now on the Indian vet examined me daily in front of my Mistress and the Breeding Keeper. My dog skins were gradually let out as my whelps grew and my belly swelled making me feel more and more awkward. The Princess personally supervised my new diet and was clearly thrilled at what was happening to me.

"Oh, little Kelbai," she would say as she showed me off to her women friends, inviting them to feel my tummy as it strained against the dog skin, "you're going to give me another two little bitches as pretty as you!

This was, perhaps, rather flattering for me, but I could not help feeling sorry for my babies who apparently were destined for a life spent in one of my Mistress's cages. I was indeed appalled at first and looked around desperately for some way of getting rid of them. I remembered stories I had heard at school of knitting needles and bottles of gin. But I had neither in my cage. And even if I came across either in my Mistress's apartments, I could not even hold them with my front paws!

There was nothing I could do about it. I would simply have to carry the twins - just as my Mistress had planned. I found myself accepting it all with oriental fatalism. I told myself that everything is relative and that since the little whelps would never know any life than that of the Kennels, they would not miss what they did not know about. I ceased to worry, and just accepted it all as fate, just like an Arab - or a dog!

My Mistress continued to keep me near her during the day, so that she could use my tongue and lips whenever she felt the need.

Indeed thanks to the special exercises she had made me do with my tongue, I was now able to stretch it out almost like a dog and thus give my Mistress increased pleasure. I was now also able, for long periods, to keep my lips pursed with the tip of my tongue protruding, as I shook my head, over her beauty lips, giving her more intense and prolonged pleasure.

But still my Mistress insisted that, as a bitch, I simply could not have any pleasure until I came on heat again - now after I had whelped!

She also greatly enjoyed making me, in front of her women friend visitors, kneel up on my hind legs and beg with my front paws held up by my shoulders, so that they could see my prettily swelling belly.

On one occasion when the vet was examining me, I overheard them talking.

"Your bitch's whelps are doing well, Madame," said the vet, "but I would like to give them a better start in life in this difficult climate, by making the bitch carry them for an extra week or two. If you agree, Madame, I will give her a suitable injection - but she must then be kept in her cage and prevented from moving."

"But won't the whelps then be dangerously big for her?" my Mistress asked anxiously.

"Oh no, Madame, the bitch is tall with matching good child-bearing hips."

"All right then, but I want to invite some of my friends to watch the bitch whelping. Will you be able to bring her on so that she drops her whelps in front of them?"

"Of course, Madame .. and the Breeding Keeper has an excellent old fashioned way of getting things started quickly!"

My Mistress gave a cruel little laugh, making me give a little shiver of fear. I had been appalled at what I had heard and the callous way in which I was discussed. I was very frightened at what they were planning to do to me and horrified at the idea of my whelping being made into a public spectacle.

Surely, I said to myself, I would not really me made to whelp in my cage, till wearing my dog-skin, and still chained by the neck? But once again, I did not dare to try and say anything in protest. Indeed, not having spoken a word for months now, I wondered if I had forgotten to speak properly.

So it was that I found myself now permanently chained down onto the straw in the shelter inside my cage. With my front paws chained outstretched to two of the shelter's posts, keeping me lying helplessly on my back.

My tail plug was now removed, and several times a day, the Breeding Keeper, as I now knew him to be, would come into the shelter and force-feed me with special foods intended to build up my child. I would then, very humiliatingly, have to relieve myself in front of him and to his orders, after which he would clean me and remove the dirty straw between my legs. Each day, the vet would come and expertly feel my now terrifyingly swollen belly.

I just had to lie there helplessly on my back, feeling my child kicking and moving, my neck still fastened to the heavy iron collar and chain, my front paws outstretched behind my head, and my body being controlled by the negro Breeding Keeper.

Then one day, when I felt that soon I must burst, I felt my pains commence. The negro Breeding Keeper seemed very pleased. He then carefully removed the few little short hairs that still grew around my depilated body lips - and left me! Horrified, I wondered if I was going to be left all alone to produce my whelp, tied down onto my back!

About an hour later, he returned, now dressed in just a white loincloth, a white turban and white gloves - as if dressed for some formal occasion. He unfastened my outstretched arms and fastened my leather muzzle over my mask and buckled it tight around my chin and neck, making it impossible for me to cry out.

Then, he led me, crawling on all fours and wincing with pain and discomfort, over to the front of my cage. I saw that a dozen comfortable chairs had been placed in a semi-circle facing the cage, with little tables holding delicious snacks and cold drinks - things that I had not been allowed since I had been put into my Mistress's Kennels.

I saw that the wire mesh that formed the roof of the cage had been pulled back in one place alongside the front of the cage, allowing me to stand up.

It was the first time that I had been allowed to stand since I had been put into the Kennels. I had almost forgotten how to and the extra weight in my belly made it more difficult.

I felt deeply humiliated, as my front paws were now fastened above my head to a pole running over the top of the cage. My hind legs were fastened wide apart, with my knees slightly bent, on either side of a wicker basket full of straw. I looked down at it in horror.

Surely, I thought, they did not intend that, still chained by the neck and wearing my dog skin, my face covered with the dog's head mask to hid my grimaces, and muzzled to muffle my cries of pain, I was about to drop my babies, unassisted like a real bitch into the basket? But that was exactly what my Mistress intended!

After some time of having to stand there, racked periodically by contractions, I heard voices. It was Raisa and her friends, coming to see the spectacle! With them was the Vet, carrying a little black bag. The Breeding Keeper, standing next to me in the cage, bowed deeply, putting his white gloved hands together in the Eastern gesture of welcome.

The women sat down and made themselves comfortable. The negro suddenly produced a long whippy cane. He spoke to them in Arabic, proudly pointing with his cane to my exposed swollen breasts, to my belly and to my beauty lips, as if showing off a prize animal - which was exactly what I was! The women laughed. Naturally I couldn't understand a word of what he was saying.

Terrified, I watched him go through the cage door and show the cane to the women. Then he showed it to the vet, who nodded approvingly.

"A steady warming of the backside," I heard him say in English, "helps a girl to whelp quickly."

I watched open-mouthed as the burly negro strode back into the cage. Then slowly and steadily he applied the cane to the exposed cheeks of my bottom. Each stroke made me scream behind my muzzle and wriggle violently. My poor little whelps, as I now thought of them, had been conceived under the whip, had grown under the whip and now would be delivered under the whip. It was all too cruel!

Thinking, between the strokes of the cane, of the life that awaited my progeny, I started to hope that they would not live. But my perfect physical condition soon made it clear that, helped by the urging of the negro's cane and by the way I had been strung up to whelp standing upright, that there were not going to be any difficulties. My whelps were being born quickly and without problems, if degradingly.

Unaided, and applauded by the watching women, I dropped into the basket two little girls who were immediately taken away from me to be reared as bitches.

Not being allowed to speak, and anyway kept tightly muzzled to muffle my cries, I was unable to find out what had happened to my babies. It was not my business, Raisa told me! She merely assured me that they would be brought up under her eye, and would lack nothing.

Raisa made it clear that it was no use flashing my eyes in a mute appeal to her better nature. She had made up her mind. All that it remained for me to do was to submit to her will and pick up my life again as her little pet dog.

Indeed, after a few hours, I was back on my feet again - or rather back on all fours again.

13 - IN MILK!

The day after I whelped, as it was so humiliatingly called, a real bitch of the canine race brought six pretty little puppies into the world. Raisa was very worried because her Breeding Keeper warned her that the mother only had enough milk to feed four of them.

Having returned to my normal life as a dog, I had just left my friend Tiny by the bars that separated us, and was returning to my shelter to lie down on the straw, when I saw my Mistress arriving. She was followed by the Breeding Keeper carrying two of the newly born puppies. She told him to put them down by my side.

"Now little bitch," she said as the Breeding Keeper knelt over me, his dog whip in his hand, "for once you're going to do something useful for your Mistress. As you've still got all your milk, you're going to breast feed and raise these puppies!"

"Lie on your side!" ordered the Breeding Keeper, and then he held one of the, still blind, little creatures to each of my nipples.

No longer being able to use my rubber coated hands, I was quite unable to resist the eager assault of the puppies who immediately started to fight greedily over possession of my teats, to use the humiliating animal word that Raisa used to describe my nipples.

It was not until I had suckled them well that they fell asleep snuggling up to my tummy. Oh how sweet they were! My maternal instincts were aroused and, forgetting about my own whelp I really adopted these adorable puppies as they had been produced by me.

"She's taking to them well," I heard the Breeding Keeper say reassuringly to the Princess. "We can leave them with her now."

My cage door closed. I heard the grating noise of the bolts being shot home. I was left chained ... with the iron chain fastened to my collar and the two puppies asleep by my belly.

My Mistress at first now did without my services and I remained in the kennels with my so-called offspring. They never missed a feed, but, as they grew bigger and stronger, they innocently caused me untold irritations, crawling over my body and my food. They dropped their excrement everywhere - and under the threat of the whip I had to lick it all up and swallow it.

Not having the use of my hands, I had to put up with them. I even had to learn to lift them up with my teeth and carry them around in my mouth - just like a real bitch does.

I was so disappointed when, after I whelped having to bring up the two puppies prevented me from being taken back into service into my Mistress's exciting daily service in her apartments.

I had been so looking forward to returning to them again, especially since she had promised that I would be allowed, at last, to reach a climax when I came on heat again after being in-whelp, as she so degradingly called it.

It was so sad still being kept in my cage day after day. I was desperately missing all the sensuously exciting hours that I used to spend with my Mistress, caressing her amorously with my now well-trained tongue. I remembered the secret and intense, if frustrating, pleasure that I myself used to get from these lesbian encounters - close encounters into which I had been carefully initiated and to which I had abandoned myself completely.

It was all now so disappointing! But what could I do about it? I was reduced to the most degrading servitude, deprived of the use of even my hands and of speech. I was even forced to put up with little bites, on the most tender parts of my body, from two little animals whom I was being forced to feed and love as if they were my own children.

And on top of everything, I, a delicate young Englishwoman, was kept locked up and fastened by the neck, like some dangerous beast, to a huge chain which I had difficulty, on top of all my other sufferings, in even dragging along behind me.

There was also the repeated humiliation of being made, under the threat of the whip, to act like a performing dog in front of the awful visitors, by doing my little tricks of having to sit up on my hind legs, next to the grill at the front of the cage, and beg, or of having to carry the puppies by my teeth.

I used to be rewarded with a piece of sugar which the visitors had previously sullied with their own saliva - something which is considered particularly degrading in the Arab world.

Nor did Raisa give in to my pleading eyes or to my unhappy barks. I had to remain chained in my cage. Sometimes, dragging by the neck the heavy chain that symbolised my servitude, I left my little open-sided shack to breath some fresh air, or to see my friend Tiny. But unless my two puppies were asleep, they would follow me closely. They would look for my nipples and sometimes even hang from them, forcing me to lie down to avoid the pain and to prevent them from falling and hurting themselves.

Not surprisingly my breasts swelled to meet the insistent demand and my nipples became more and more elongated and animal like.

Raisa used to come and see me, certainly every day and often several times a day. She was beaming with delight that her prize pedigree bitch and her six puppies had been saved - thanks to the timely help of my milk. But what about the physical and psychological pain I experienced at being pulled about by the mouths of these little animals? Or having to rear them as if they were my own children? It is impossible to describe how degraded and yet how proud I felt.

My Mistress was also proud and happy, and experienced such sensual delight from my secret sufferings, that she invited her women friends, and the harem women, to come and see what she described as a veritable picture of devoted motherhood.

"Look how her nipples have developed onto real little teats," she would proudly point out .

She and her friends even took photographs of me with two puppies reaching up to suckle my breasts as I knelt on all fours like a real bitch feeding my young!

My God, how humiliating it was! To what level had I now fallen? But worse was to follow.

First of all, my old enemy, Marak, the Sheik's black eunuch, came to see the new young mother. He brought with him four of the harem girls who had been most jealous of me in. They jeered at me, and deliberately called out hurtfully in English.

"We like have good look at new brood bitch!" Marak said to the Keeper. "Please bring her to front of cage, so my girls can see her properly."

Then, when the Keeper, had me me, with his dog whip, crawl to the front of the cage, he asked the girls: "Which puppy do you think most looks like mother? Which you think prettiest puppy?"

"I think that one looks most like its its mother," said one of the girls. They were all trying to speak in English to humiliate the more. "Don't you agree?"

"Isn't it sweet to see brood bitch feeding her little ones!" said another. "Oh look how they nibble and suck whilst feeding! That tart of a girl must find that very exciting!"

"Oh no!" contradicted another girl sneeringly. "I wouldn't want to have my brats hanging from my breasts the whole time - not for all the gold in the world ... "

Yet more terrible mentally was the visit of Faisal, my own husband, the man I had so stupidly loved and trusted. He was accompanied by Alysha, the young woman who had taken my place as his wife.

She looked just as hard and severe as her friend the Princess, who came with them and gave them a graphic description of my own whelp. She went on to speak of my whelp's weaning and how she was going to be brought up as a puppy.

"She'll never know what it's like being a human being," she laughed. Then she went onto to describe my own successful transformation from a harem slave girl into a brood bitch.

"When her little whelp is older, I'm going to have them both put in whelp by the same stallion," I heard Raisa confide to her friend. "It'll be such fun!"

My heart sank. My little daughter turned into a little dog, like me!

Alysha was clearly very interested in all this talk of future plans and in the puppies I was presently rearing. I was ordered to get up and crawl over to them, even though I had a puppy hanging from each breast. I had to pose in this horrible, humiliating and painful position, whilst my husband's wife took several photographs.

It was at this moment that Tiny came out of his shelter and came over towards me. He stood up on his hind legs gripping the bars with his front paws.

Raisa made me go over to him. I too was made to sit up on my hind legs, with my knees shamefully apart. We now both looked very much alike and more or less the same size. Once again photographs were taken amidst much laughter and jeers from the spectators.

To my great embarrassment, the Princess pointed to my own now exposed beauty lips.

"Oh, look! Do you see? She's coming on heat again, the little bitch!" It was true. Only that morning, my Keeper had noticed the tell-tale signs of my monthly cycle starting again. He would have reported this to Raisa. "Do you see how the lips are swollen, almost like those of a real bitch on heat? I wonder what effect this will have on Tiny?"

Indeed, aroused by the scent of my my heat, Tiny's manhood had thrust out from its dog sheath and now, red and erect, was displaying its eager interest in me. This was immediately noticed by Raisa, who was always on the look-out for something new and exciting.

"Well, well, my darling little Kelbai," said Raisa, "you certainly seem to have a little sweetheart! And what an ardent lover your handsome and charming neighbour is! Congratulations! But, of course, it's not really very surprising. After all your both Great Danes!"

I remembered how my Mistress had repeatedly said that my frantic frustration would be ended when I next came on heat. Well, here I was on heat again - which accounted for Tiny's display of aroused manhood. The puppies were so much bigger now and did not need constant feeding. Might I now be allowed sometimes to serve her again in her apartment? Oh what an exciting thought!

Raisa put her head to one side and paused. What I wondered excitedly was she going to say?

"Well Tony's little display of love and affection has given me an idea ... Why not? ... Why not indeed"

Shuddering with horror, I began to wonder what she was thinking behind those piercing eyes. I knew how forceful she could be when she wanted something badly ... But after all! ... No, she couldn't be thinking of ... No, it was one thing to keep a girl in a dog skin and even to make her feed and rear real puppies, but ... with a dog! ... that would be too awful, too shocking ... No! ... No!

My Mistress, however, now confirmed my worst fears as she revealed her true thoughts.

"Oh, yes, Alysha, she's going to be such a happy little bitch! Won't my Kelbai be thrilled to to be put to such a handsome male as Tiny? Oh what a beautiful spectacle it will be to see them mated together! What fun it will be to watch them. What a pity there will be outcome!"

She put her arms round Alysha's neck.

"Oh darling, will you come with me when we do it. We'll wait until she next comes into season and then watch it together. Tiny won't, of course, respond properly unless she's in season like a real bitch ..."

She paused and looked down at me crawling in my cage.

"Oh, yes," she cried, "it'll be so exciting it will be to see my little Kelbai taken by the big Tiny. To see him holding her tight so that she receives all his seed! What a shame that it will be wasted! But I've kept her frustrated for months and she's going to be so thrilled at feeling herself penetrated by his big manhood!"

Faisal gave a derisive laugh, making me feel even more degraded.

He was my my husband, the man I had run away with, the man who had put a ring on my finger and who had promised me a romantic honeymoon in Arabia.

And now, in his eyes, I was just a caged dog, a bitch who was being made to nurse two puppies and was now going to covered by a real dog for the amusement of his cousin and his wife.

After they left, and after I had fed my now sleeping puppies, I came, as I did every evening, over to the bars by my Tiny. I knelt up and pressed my body against the bars.

"Yes, my darling Tiny,"I whispered through my muzzle, "You're nicer than any of them. It's you I really ... love. And you're going to my lover!"

Then I let him lick me with his tongue more than usual. I even found myself seeking his tongue, and trying, despite my muzzle, to lick his his face. Then I thrust my breasts through the bars so that he could lick my nipples. Finally, I turned round, lowered my head and thrust my backside against the bars, offering my two little orifices to his thrusting tongue as best I could. Oh how I blushed under my head piece as I secretly found myself longing for his manhood. Damn the bars!

When, a fortnight, later the puppies were taken away from me, I was the object of a very thorough treatment of my personal hygiene, both internally and externally. The former meant more humiliations, including something which previously had been done to me weekly, but which I now received daily: an enema.

The position I had to assume in my shelter can readily be imagined. My bottom had to face towards the entrance of the little structure and, once again under the threat of the whip, I had to ingurgitate the disinfecting liquid via my little beauty lips and my little rear orifice.

It was very embarrassing having this done to me by a strapping great negro. However, I could see the point of this after the intimate way in which I had had to live with the two puppies. It was intended to both disclose and reduce the spread of a certain canine ailment - worms!

My Keeper operated with skill and was as gentle as possible, but there was no getting away from the degradation of the whole business, nor from the forbidding look of the equipment he used. It had to endure its jet in the most humiliating positions, first of all lying on my back to offer easy access to my beauty lips, and then turning over onto my knees to receive the second jet, this time more profoundly, up my poor little bottom!

The straw litter was removed for these operations and was not replaced until after the evacuation of the solid wastes into the red-painted ring on the cement floor was completed - something which the negro humiliatingly made me delay. With his whip raised to enforce his instructions, he would make me strain to retain the liquid inside my body to allow it to penetrate more deeply, and to clean me out more thoroughly.

The negro was very quick to use his whip at the slightest sign of hesitation. So it was that I quickly learned, as soon as I saw him come to my cage with his equipment, to brush aside the straw in the shelter and to lie down quickly, on bare cement floor, and to offer myself, in the required position, to his cleaning liquids.

I had, of course, resumed my service as my Mistress's little pet dog - but now as a bitch still in milk - for great care had been taken to keep my milk flowing for as long as possible, even though it was no longer required by the two puppies. I was still milked twice a day to provide milk for my Mistress and her friends. They swore that my milk, the milk of a European woman, was extra sweet and nourishing. That was why the puppies fed by me, I heard my Mistress explain, had done so well.

Sometimes, as a special treat, my Mistress would take me into her bed and make me excite her as she sucked the milk from my now extended nipples - for the constant sucking of the puppies had greatly enlarge their size.

She kept showing off my much swollen breasts to her Indian Vet and I could see the two of them were discussing me eagerly as if hatching some new plan involving me.

I longed to ask my Mistress just what it was she was planning, but I knew that dogs did not talk and I dare not try and do so. Indeed, I had not been allowed to speak for so long that I wondered if I really could still have a sensible human conversation.

Once again I would taken out of my cage each morning to spend the day following her about or lying at her feet - until her siesta in the afternoon. Then, under the firm direction of her whip, I would have to excite her with my now well trained tongue - without, of course, being allowed any relief myself.

Frequently she would also have one or two of her slave girls, including my enemy, Ruth the Jewish girl, in attendance. They would be beautiful and naked however, while I would be hidden in my dog skin. She would use me to arouse herself. Then strapping on an imitation rubber manhood, she would amuse herself by taking one or both of the girls as if she were a man, whilst I, or the other girl, would be ordered to apply our tongues from behind her.

I was madly jealous of the other girls, not merely because they were also being allowed to give pleasure to my Mistress, but also because it often amused her to bring the girl she was taking to an, admittedly humiliating, but nevertheless real climax - something which was frustratingly denied to me, yet again, on the utterly false grounds that, as a mere bitch, I did not have a beauty bud and could therefore only reach a climax when I came on heat each month.

Sometimes my Mistress would invite one of her woman friends to joint her for her siesta.

"Bring your own girl," I would hear her say on the telephone, speaking in English so that any casual eavesdropper would not understand. "Or you can use one of mine, but first I really must insist you try out my bitch's tongue - and her milk. They're both really sensational!"

On these occasions I would have to arouse not only my Mistress with my tongue, but also her friend, whilst my Mistress stood over me with her dog whip in her hand to make sure that I did not let her down. I had to apply my tongue tirelessly in the way she had trained me.

"Isn't it wonderful?" my Mistress would ask her friend as she writhed in ecstasy under my tongue. "Making her live, eat and drink like a dog, has made her tongue almost as agile as that of a real dog, and yet she has the intelligence of a human being and can understand orders in English!"

Then, as they lay side by side, thrusting in and out of the helpless girls that lay beneath them, whilst I applied my tongue alternatively to them from behind, they would nonchalantly discuss the joy and excitement of having a girl, particularly a European one, trained and treated as a performing dog.

So my life as my Mistress's pet dog continued. Not only had I now become used to it, but masochistically I enjoyed it - except for the continual frustration, or "dedicating your sensuality to your Mistress" as Raisa cruelly put it.

14 - TAKEN BY A DOG

I now resumed my former life as my Mistress's little pet dog. Once again I would taken out of my cage each morning to spend the day following her about or lying at her feet - until her siesta in the afternoon. Then, under the firm direction of her whip, I would have to excite her with my now well trained tongue - without, of course, being allowed any relief myself.

Frequently she would also have one or two of her slave girls, including my particular enemy, Ruth, the Jewish girl, in attendance. They would be beautiful and naked however, while I would be hidden in my dog skin. She would use me to arouse herself. Then strapping on an imitation rubber manhood, she would amuse herself by taking one or both of the girls as if she were a man, whilst I, or the other girl, would be ordered to apply our tongues to her from behind.

I was madly jealous of the other girls. It was not just because they were also being allowed to give pleasure to my Mistress. It often amused her to bring the girl she was taking to an, admittedly humiliating, but nevertheless real climax. This, of course, was something which was frustratingly denied to me, yet again, on the utterly false grounds that, as a mere bitch, I did not have a beauty bud and could therefore only reach a climax when I came on heat each month.

Sometimes my Mistress would invite one of her woman friends to joint her for her siesta.

"Bring your own girl," I would hear her say on the telephone. "Or you can use one of mine, but first I really must insist you try out my bitch's tongue. It really is sensational!"

On these occasions I would have to arouse not only my Mistress with my tongue, but also her friend, whilst my Mistress stood over me with her dog whip in her hand to make sure that I did not let her down. I had to apply my tongue tirelessly in the way she had trained me.

"Isn't it wonderful?" my Mistress would ask her friend as she writhed in ecstasy under my tongue. "Making her live, eat and drink like a dog, has made her tongue almost as agile as that of a real dog, and yet she has the intelligence of a human being and can understand orders in English!"

Then, as they lay side by side, thrusting in and out of the helpless girls that lay beneath them, whilst I applied my tongue alternatively to them from behind, they would nonchalantly discuss the joy and excitement of having a girl, particularly a European one, trained and treated as a performing dog.

So my life as my Mistress's pet dog continued. Not only had I now become used to it, but masochistically I enjoyed it - except for the continual frustration, or "dedicating your sensuality to your Mistress" as Raisa cruelly put it.

Then one day my felt my monthly cycle resuming again for the second time since I had to whelp so shamefully and agonisingly in public. I did not, of course, dare to say a word, but my observant Keeper had been humiliatingly inspecting me daily for the tell-tale signs and reported my new state to my Mistress. She seemed very pleased, laughing and smiling as if she had been awaiting this event.

I, too, was thrilled - thrilled at the thought of at last being allowed relief. I was therefore terribly disappointed when my Mistress gave orders that I was to be kept in my cage until I was no longer on heat. I just could not believe it.

"We must take the same precautions as we do with a normal bitch," I heard her say. "I don't want her going round offering herself to every male in sight."

Behind my dog mask, I could feel my tears of furious disappointment rolling down my cheeks. "It's not fair," I wanted to scream. My Mistress had promised that I would be allowed to climax when I came on heat, as she so humiliatingly called it. And now that I was at last on heat again, and no longer having to feed the puppies, she had ordered that I was not to be allowed out of my cage to come to her apartments, and her bed, until I was no longer on heat. It just wasn't fair! She was too cruel!

I was still angry at being deceived by her, when the next day I suddenly saw, not without some apprehension, if not terror, the Keeper carrying arm chairs and tables up to the shaded area just outside the door of my cage.

I could not forsee anything good coming from these preparations, especially when I saw my Mistress arrive with several of her woman friends, my husband's wife Alysha, the Sheik's chief black eunuch, Marak, and several Arab men, who all began to chat and help themselves to the delicious food that had been laid out.

Finally everyone was seated with my Mistress and Alysha in the front row. The women were all being fanned by little black slave boys who seemed delighted to have an excuse to watch what was going to happen.

My own Keeper went into Tiny's cage, unfastened him from his heavy chain and brought him into my cage. Then, to my astonishment, he actually let him go, having first dropped the sliding bars over my shelter to prevent me from running away and hiding in it.

Suddenly, I realised what was going to happen to me. So this was what my Mistress had meant when she had promised that I would be allowed to climax when I came on heat! To do so like a real bitch does with a real dog!

"No! No!" I screamed, forgetting that I was not allowed to speak. But my protests only served to excite Raisa and her guests.

I was genuinely terror stricken, for I was literally assailed by Tiny.

"No! Please! No!" I screamed again and again.

Finally, with a cruel laugh, my Mistress ordered me to be tightly muzzled. She also ordered my chain to be shortened. I was thus reduced both to silence and to virtual immobility, held as I now was, close to the big ring set in the cement in the floor of the middle of the cage, by the shortened heavy chain fastened to my neck.

Tiny, doubtlessly keen to take advantage quickly of his unexpected opportunity, threw himself at me, avidly sniffing my beauty lips, although I was trying to get my hindquarters away from him. Thus we went round and round, stopping occasionally to look at each other. He, with his long tongue hanging out in his excitement, was quite free. Whereas my slightest movement made the links of my chain clank like a bell toiling or my forthcoming rape - an noise which drew attention to the fact that I was tied helplessly to the big ring set in the floor of the cage.

Tiny finally caught me. He mounted me from behind, squeezing my buttocks between his muscular hind legs, whilst with his strong front paws he held my waist. I was already exhausted by all my efforts to avoid him. Then I suddenly felt his swollen manhood tickling my beauty lips. Desperately I tried to clench my buttocks together in a last effort to protect my body. I felt him trying to take me several times without success.

Raisa looked furious. I saw my Keeper go up and whisper something in to her. She nodded. The Keeper released my chain. Immediately Tiny took advantage of my greater freedom of movement to force me, still kneeling on all fours, up against a corner of the mesh cage. He started to lick me ardently from behind with his long clever tongue. He made me become wet inside my already excited lips ... and what then happened ... was what must happen.

"Oh look," I heard my Mistress cry out with delight. "Look how despite herself, the little bitch's lips are relaxing and now opening with her desire for the male."

It was true. My body was betraying me. Conquered I could no longer struggle ... and immediately I was forcibly penetrated!

I gave a terrible cry which was muffled by my muzzle. I felt faint, and almost passed out for a few moments. The thong of the Keeper's whip caught me through the wire mesh on the tip of my breast, bringing me instantly round again.

Whilst the delighted spectators applauded Tiny's triumphant exploit, I was kept firmly glued to him by his big thrusting manhood which was penetrating deeper and deeper inside me, forcing my body to open itself up to him.

Never will I forget the terrible moment of the first actual penetration of my body lips by the manhood of an animal who had first carefully worked on them, and prepared them, with his powerful tongue. Never will I forget the inhuman shriek that I gave, a shriek that was deadened by the tightness of the muzzle round my jaws. Never will I forget how this dominating male, repeatedly jerking his thighs against my buttocks in a dog-like fashion, asserted his total superiority over me by brutally taking me, and overwhelming me.

However, I was grateful for my mask for it hid my tear-stained face from the sight of the spectators. This was my only consolation amidst so much distress, for at least they could not feast their eyes on my face during the spectacle of my utter degradation.

Immobilised by the physical joining of our two bodies, feeling both pain and pleasure, I tried to cry with emotion, with horror, and with anger behind the muzzle which robbed me of the only relief that I might have had: that of screaming out with pain and shame.

With every movement of this masterful male, I felt not only pain, but, suddenly, also the little spasm of pleasure that my Mistress had promised for so long - a spasm provoked by the sudden feeling of his warm sperm jetting up inside me ...

As is normal with dogs, his manhood remained still swollen and immovable. I was tied to him by it, just like a real bitch is tied to a male dog. Instinctively Tiny now turned himself round so that, still glued together by his swollen manhood, we were facing away from each other with our hindquarters touching.

So here I was, still glued to Tiny, who had become my lover by order of my Mistress, in the presence of a fascinated audience. Amongst them, in the front row, was not only the man I had thought was husband, but the woman who had replaced me at his side, and who had become his wife. She was now kissing him passionately as she watched. And watched what? Watched me, the rival she had displaced, and who had been made into a dog, being covered by a real dog of the same breed!

As I have said, after the initial discharge of his seed, Tiny had now changed his position as is normal during the mating of real dogs. Now, just like a real bitch, I was held welded to the male by his now extraordinarily swollen manhood.

Our hindquarters were still touching, raised up in the air, as we faced away from each other, back to back, still linked by the manhood he was terrifyingly unable to extract from my body. Only our front paws were now in proper contact with the ground, forcing us to make the same movements to and fro in order not to lose our balance.

My Mistress and her guests, almost drunk with excitement, talked loudly in English, for my benefit, dragging me down into the depths of shame.

"Well! She's certainly been well and truly taken by the dog."

"And by such a handsome one! How exciting it must have been for her!"

"But he's also had a lovely little bitch. He's really very spoilt!"

"Let's go and have a closer look, so as to make sure that the marriage has been properly consummated!"

They got up and came up to the bars of the cage to have a closer look at us as we stood there on our front paws - just like the real dogs that I had seen mating back in England.

This exhibition, with its preliminary preparations by the powerful tongue of the male, which had penetrated right up inside me, and then the brutal rape that I had to endure, had really terrified me. I felt quite stupefied. I had been brought down to the level of a beast, of that of a real bitch on heat.

The spectators, especially the women, watched us fascinated as we staggered about linked by Tiny's manhood which was still jetting his seed deep into me. They discussed the finer points of our mating, pointing at me and laughing, until Raisa finally gave an order to the Keeper.

Treating us like real Great Danes, who had just been mated, he threw several buckets of cold water over our backsides. At last, I could feel Tiny's manhood contracting and then suddenly we were free again.

I felt faint, trembling all over, but still, of course fastened to my heavy chain. Tiny though, was quite free. He danced around me, and started to lick me all over. He even licked my mask under the muzzle.

I would dearly have loved to have licked him back - and perhaps even have embarrassed him with a show of affection, as he had me. But alas! Even this degrading and animal-like desire was not allowed, prevented as it was by my tight muzzle! My God, to what depths had I now fallen?

A Keeper came to catch Tiny. He put him back onto his chain in his cage. The spectators left without so much as a backwards look at me.

Tiny and I spent that night side by side, but separated by the bars. Tiny, like a normal male, seemed happy and proud to have possessed me. He was like a cat who had just drunk all the cream!

I, on the other hand, just looked admiringly at him. I could not take my eyes off him. He was a male, a wonderful male. He was my Master now, not the fat old Sheik. He was young and powerful. He was magnificent.

I loved him. I was his bitch!

The Keeper started work on me early the following morning. For several days running I was forced to submit to innumerable purgatives and enemas under the watchful but protesting eye of the Indian vet.

"But, my dear lady," I heard him say to my Mistress, "you need have no fear, it is quite impossible for a human to conceive when she is in season."

"Very well, then. In that case I certainly shall have her covered every month when she comes on heat. We'll have a little party for it!"

I listened eagerly. Brought to a peak of desire and frustration by all the lesbian caresses that I had been made to give, and sometimes receive, the idea of being allowed to climax again with a real male, even if he was only a dog, was terribly exciting.

I really began to desire Tiny. I really began to long to come on heat again and to be given to him again. I was mad for him - or just mad.

"And," I heard Raisa add, "as Faisal's now working for my father as his business manager, and living in a house in the palace grounds, I shall make a point of always inviting him and Alysha to come and watch."

My God! I thought. To what level of degeneration have I been forced? To have the handsome young man who was still, in my eyes, my legal husband, and his young wife, of whom I was very jealous, being invited to watch my monthly matings was too much. I remembered how they had both obviously found it exciting. No doubt they had then gone off to make love ... whilst thinking of me and my degradation.

The only way I could take my revenge for all these snubs and humiliations, I decided, would be to give myself, as willing as I could, to Tiny, and so make his task and his pleasure all the greater - and my own as well!

15 - THE GRAND PERFORMANCE

My mating with Tiny, my next door neighbour in the Kennels, was judged to have been a great success by my Mistress and by her guests. She had said that she would repeat the operation next time more publicly.

I was not therefore really very surprised when I heard her telling one of her women friends that there was going to be a big party in the palace and that I would be one of the attractions, together with Tiny.

The date was apparently carefully chosen by Raisa after consulting with my Keeper to make sure that it would coincide with my next monthly heat.

The great day arrived, and the banqueting room of the palace, ostentatiously decorated and lit up, was full of splendid uniforms and flowing Arab robes at one end of the room, and tantalising and enticing veils at the other. A splendid banquet was served separately to the men and then to the women. I had the honour to be present at this, but in my assigned place - lying at the feet of my Mistress.

After the meal there were jugglers, dwarfs, acrobats and conjurors who tried to outdo each other with their skill and cleverness. Then came singing and dancing girls dressed in thin transparent veils which they discarded in time to the music, ending up entirely naked at the feet of the Master, the Sheik. They remained there kneeling humbly and keeping absolutely still, until the Sheik, busy talking to his neighbour, deigned to notice them. He gave a wave of his hand and they fled from the room.

Tiny and I had been brought into the banqueting room on the same chain and Raisa had proudly shown off her "Prize couple of Great Danes" to her friends. I had begun to think that this was all that we would have to do at the party, especially when Raisa handed over Tiny's lead to Alysha so that she could use him as a footstool, just as she herself was using me.

I kept quite still, happy like the masochist that I had become, to feel the strong little feet of my Mistress, beating away on my body in time with the music.

Tiny, however, had smelt my heat on the way from the kennels. He had sniffed my sparkling beauty lips, painted bright red to match my nipples, and had licked them eagerly. Perhaps because of this, he was highly excited and never stopped jumping up and down. He made such a nuisance of himself to his temporary Mistress that finally she beckoned to one of the servants and told him to take him out of the room.

I, for my part, was also feeling excited. Quite apart from the bowl of Champagne that my Mistress had discreetly allowed me to lap up, the licking of Tiny's tongue had aroused me, as had the sight of the lascivious dances. Moreover, my Mistress who kept her dog whip with her, used its tip continually to play either with my nipples or with my beauty lips - keeping me thus even more aroused.

A little before the end of the entertainment, my Mistress got up, and holding me by my lead, signalled to Alysha to join her. They took me into a small room next door, where Tiny was chained. He pulled at his chain, as soon as he saw me coming. Instinctively I jumped back as if trying to shelter behind my Mistress.

But she pushed me away, and pulled me over towards my fellow dog, who immediately began to work away at me with his long and powerful tongue, thrusting furiously between my beauty lips.

Clearly he was desperately trying to get me "ready", meanwhile his red manhood came out through the slit in his dogskin - clearly indicating its eagerness to become involved in the business in hand.

Raisa and Alysha seeing what was happening to us both, laughed out loud. I saw them embrace, exchanging a long and passionate kiss.

"Oh, it's exciting seeing them both like this!" cried Alysha.

"Yes, especially since the bitch is responding to his advances and is beginning to wriggle ... and to open herself to him ... Look!" Leaning over me, Raisa pointed with the tip of her whip to my beauty lips in which I could feel my little bud beginning to emerge. "Goodness! I'm wet already! How about you?"

"And me!" admitted Alysha. "Oh it's going to be so exciting when we see her given to him in front of all the guests. I'm almost coming merely thinking about it!"

"I think that the bitch is really aroused now," said Raisa after a pause. "She's ready to be taken back and given to the male ... So! Let's go! ... Untie Tiny and lead him in yourself, whilst I bring in Kelbai ... "

We thus made a splendid entrance, which was wildly applauded. Raisa entered first, holding me on the lead, with Tiny following, his nose literally up my backside. He was favouring both my orifices with long licks of his tongue, and was pulling on his lead with such force that Alysha could hardly hold him. His red manhood had again emerged from it's sheath and was pointing eagerly forwards.

Finally amongst a considerable amount of mirth from the spectators, whose interested and lustful eyes were now fixed on the four of us, Raisa and Alysha unfastened the leads from our collars, leaving us completely free.

Overcome by shame and blinded by the bright arc lights, I could not see where I was going. I stumbled against Alysha's legs just as she was turning to go. She kicked me away. Losing my balance on my little rubber covered paws, I rolled onto the floor. Immediately I felt Tiny's paws crashing down onto me. He started to take up a position ready to ... to fight me or take me! ...

I managed to get up again onto all fours, and looked at Tiny. His tongue was hanging out which was just as much a sign of his arousal as his swollen manhood.

Our Mistresses, who had gone to sit down again at their places, were overwhelmed with congratulations from the guest, especially the female ones, who seemed to be fascinated by the unique and rare spectacle that they were being offered.

Tiny and I were like two gladiators who had been thrown into the centre of an arena, for the amusement of a keen and enthusiastic crowd. Our looks and movements were so natural that we might well have been taken for a real dog and bitch, about to be mated.

Unconsciously, perhaps out of coquetry or the simple desire to defend myself, whenever Tiny rushed at me, I would make a little jump to one side to avoid him. But he kept coming back, and I would wait for him with my back curled up ready to jump away again - just like a real bitch does.

When, he occasionally managed to get his front paws onto my back and to press them together to hold me still for a moment, he would start to thrust and rub against me. I would feel the warmth of his manhood on my orifices, first my rear one, then between my beauty lips, and then the rear one again ... Must I admit it? ... This was very exciting! ... It was a game that I was enjoying.

For some time, just like real dogs before they mate, we continued to jump about in this way, first one of us, and then the other, like marionettes performing jerkily on a stage.

It must have been a sensational performance, and very realistic, for after several minutes of agonising suspense, whilst the audience wondered how long it would be before things were finalised, I heard cries.

"Well done!"

"What a splendid performance!"

"What clever little dogs!"

Then there was a complete silence as things moved on. It was like a thriller. The suspense was terrific. All the audience were sitting on the edge of her seats, in a turmoil of excitement.

All the jumping about had now exhausted us. We needed to get our breath back. Tiny's tongue was hanging out more and more and he was breathing heavily ... He came gently up to me and started delicately to lick my two orifices, lingering especially on my beauty lips, and then ... feeling me becoming welcomingly wet ... for I was indeed becoming wetter and wetter ... he mounted me again, successfully this time. After a few jerks of his hindquarters against my buttocks, he penetrated me ... forcibly!

I screamed like a wounded animal - which was indeed just what I was. It was a scream of defeat and shame, as well of as physical pain - for Tiny's manhood was really big and was distending my tight little passage. But it was also a cry of delight and of pleasure. Yes, pleasure! For I was now joining in the his continual jerking to and fro. With each powerful thrust of his muscular hindquarters, his manhood penetrated deeper inside me.

I simply could not resist any more ... I relaxed completely, just like a real mounted bitch ... Then suddenly I climaxed, frantically and intensively!

I would certainly have liked to lie down, like every woman satiated with love. But being just a bitch, with a male dog possessing me and still penetrating me with his strong manhood, I was held tightly by him as a prisoner. He made me feel at that moment that he was my true Master, as he discharged his seed into my wilting and dishonoured body. But I knew I must submit to his rules, keeping him in me and holding myself up on all four of my thick rubber covered paws.

I now knew from experience that a dog's manhood does not quickly lose it's size, allowing him to withdraw. On the contrary, I had learned that a dog's manhood became even larger after he had ejaculated making it impossible for him to withdraw for some time, during which yet more seed may be passed on to the female.

I now gave a scream of genuine pain and fear this time, as he turned round, his still swelling manhood now pulled back between his legs and stuck inside me. We presented to the enthralled audience this unique spectacle of our two bodies jammed up against each other and facing away from each other, with mine receiving deep inside it all that the other one was still ejaculating and the hot effusion of which I was still receiving deep inside me.

We were like a pair of Siamese twins. But instead of being joined at the side of our bodies so that we stood side by side, we were joined backside to backside by Tiny's strong swollen manhood.

It was too awful! I wanted to close my eyes, to hide my shame, but the slightest movement of my Siamese twin, tied to me by his manhood, hurt me terribly. It made me cry out, and avoid moving - or rather to move only in concert with him.

Whether I liked it or not, nature made me soon open my eyes. I saw ... luckily, perhaps, for me in a rather vague and hazy way ... through the glare of the arc lights ... all the faces and eyes of the many people who surrounded us. They were looking fixedly at me and revelling in the inhuman spectacle ... that was being offered to them.

Appallingly humiliated, as I had never been before, with my brain quite empty but my body full of hot canine seed, I was held there, kneeling on all fours, tied by my body lips to my Lord and Master - for it was indeed to Tiny that I now belonged. He held me by the very thickness of his swollen manhood, and was still presenting me with the overflow of his sap.

I was completely dazed - overwhelmed by a sleeping feeling which happily prevented me from fully realising the awfulness of the situation I was in, and from hearing the hilarity of the audience or understanding all their sarcastic jibes.

These jibes in fact came largely from the women present who had been very excited by my little exhibition. Some of them indeed, could hardly resist their ardent desire to satisfy themselves in the arms of the first male who offered his services to them ...

But it was my Mistress, Raisa, and her friend Alysha, who were the recipients of all their congratulations as they both came back into the little arena, whips in hand. Pushing down our backbones, they started to activate the operation of 'unsticking' us both, commencing very effectively with buckets of cold water that two slaves threw over us - on the appropriate parts of our bodies.

As soon as we had been separated and put back onto our leads, we were taken under escort to our cages. There my Keeper immediately made me submit to a thorough washing-out by enema and douche. It was humiliating, but was clearly called for by the most elementary rules of hygiene. Then the iron collar attached to the heavy chain was again locked round my neck ...

I don't know if it was of anger, weakness or as a result of a simple secret erotic need, but every night, since the display that I was forced to put on at the banquet, I would press up against the bars that separated Tiny and myself, as soon as it was dark. I would get myself into a suitable position, lying on my back with my feet raised and thighs separated, so as to allow my darling Tiny, pushing his long tongue through the bars, to lick my beauty lips ...

The little strokes of the lovely tip of his tongue that I then felt would soon arouse me. My little bud would come out of it's sheath to salute and honour its Master, by allowing him to delight in my abundant juices, which he used to lap up right to the last drop!

How infuriating it was to be separated by these accursed bars which so hampered and restricted us during our not always very successful attempts at love-making!

Often, exhausted and reeling, I would be overcome by sleep whilst still resting against the bars. Then I would be awoken by the gentle licking of my neighbour whom I would so willingly have accepted as a companion in both my cage and on my straw litter ...

16 - SOME SPECTACULAR MATINGS

Our memorable little display had given ideas to certain of the women who had been amongst those invited. They had been terribly excited by it. Indeed, two of them were adamant that they wanted to try it out for themselves in real life.

They confided in my Mistress, who perhaps thinking that she might be able to reap some advantage from it, agreed to make her prize stallion dog available to them - but on certain conditions. Firstly, it must all take place in great secrecy, and secondly, it must take place in Tiny' own cage.

As a result, I found myself, willy-nilly, this time in the front row as a spectator one evening. It was getting dark and I had just been put back in my cage. I was therefore delighted and surprised to see my Mistress arriving. Then I saw that she was accompanied by a very beautiful woman whom from the few words I heard her speak, appeared to be of German origin.

But my amazement was even greater when, without any shame or hesitations, she undressed completely until she was stark naked, except for her sandals. The door to Tiny's cage having been opened, she got down on all fours to get into it - it will be remember that these cage were too low to allow a human being to stand up in them.

Tiny, like me, was fastened by his collar and the heavy chain to the ring in the centre of the cage. But he was able to move anywhere in the cage. He rushed over to her, and like all self-respecting dogs began to stick his nose up her bottom and lick it ...

The Keeper closed and locked the cage door at Raisa's order. Raisa grinned as she went off, leaving the woman to her fate ... the fate that she herself had requested.

"I've already seen plenty of human bitches being put to dogs," she said in a hurtful tone. "So you'll excuse me if I don't watch! I'll come back in about an hour to see if you are satisfied with my stallion dog. Have a happy time!"

With that she left, abandoning the vicious German woman to ... the paws of my Tiny. I was furious! I felt madly jealous, as through the bars I watched the love-making of my dog lover and this German woman whom I was silently cursing. Indeed I was so jealous that, sickened by the idea of my Tiny enjoying another woman, I refused to continue to watch the spectacle, and instead retired in a huff to my shelter.

But, even there, I could not get what was going on out of my mind, for the whole time I kept hearing the clinking of the links of Tiny's chain. I was, thus, forced to follow their progress by sound!

When my Mistress came back to release her "guest", I pretended to be asleep - something which my Mistress did not fail to notice. She was delighted by my obvious jealousy. Later she told me in an ironic tone that it was quite normal for a woman to be jealous of her dog lover fornicating with another woman, but that, as a mere bitch, I must just put up with it ...

Never had I even expected to be jealous of another woman over a dog!

The other guest who wanted to try out Tiny was a black lady. Luckily, my Mistress decided not to offer her to Tiny but to another dog. I would have hated it all the more if Tiny had been unfaithful to me with a negress.

My Mistresses, and particularly Alysha, were always keen on seeking new sensations. Unknown to me, they had planned a new humiliation for me. They came to the Kennels together one day. My iron collar was taken off, and they had me taken out of my cage and put into that of Tiny.

I was astonished, for I was not on heat. Did this mean, I wondered, very excited by the idea, that my Mistress was about to relax her strict rule of only allowing me to mate with Tiny, and to climax, when I was on heat?

I was even more thrilled when Tiny immediately bounded up to me and started happily to arouse me with his tongue, something which he was now expert and quick at doing. Meanwhile the two Mistresses had installed themselves comfortably in the shade on some armchairs. I saw Raisa call the Keeper over and say something to him.

The big negro nodded in agreement. Our Mistresses now judged that Tiny was sufficiently excited, that is to say that his red manhood had emerged and had swollen to a size that made them think that he was near to climaxing. His chain was now shortened considerably to prevent him from moving about.

Horrified, I was now ordered by the negro, his whip in his hand, to lie down under Tiny's belly and to present my aroused beauty lips to his thirsty muzzle. Meanwhile, my face was confronted by his huge hanging manhood, and its furry sheath.

"You lick ... you suck," ordered the Keeper tapping his whip menacingly. I heard the two Mistresses laugh excitedly. "You take right into mouth and stroke with tongue. You always keep in mouth. You swallow."

I was horrified. I simply could not do it! It was revolting! The mere idea made me feel sick. Then I heard the swish of the negro's dog whip and .... I just had to obey ... I closed my eyes and my tongue began its work.

The manhood that Tiny was offering me grew larger and larger. Tiny, realising no doubt the difficulty that I had in raising myself to keep it completely in my mouth, lowered himself, pressing his belly against my breasts and thereby rubbing his stiff prickly hairs against my nipples.

Tiny's tongue was also busy, stroking my beauty lips and licking them lovingly. But the watching negro kept, frustratingly, pulling Tiny's head back by his collar whenever he thought that I was getting too excited. It was horribly frustrating and humiliating.

What was bound to happen, now happened. I suddenly felt the hot seed being ejaculated down my throat. I gave a cry of horror which became a groan of pleasure as I lifted up my buttocks to offer my beauty lips for the final lick that would also bring me to an exciting climax. But immediately the horrible negro jerked Tiny's head up, away from my lips, leaving me wanting to scream with frustration, but quite unable to do so because my mouth was full of Tiny's seed.

Indeed, I just could not swallow the hot and bitter-tasting seed with which Tiny had so generously filled my mouth. I turned my head to spit it out - trembling with fear at the thought of what the Mistresses would do to me. Indeed the watching negro quickly put his hand down and forced me to close my mouth. Then stroking my throat with his other hand he also forced me to swallow the seed that was still in my mouth. It was horrible and slimy.

As I feared, both women, and particularly Alysha, were furious at what I had tried to do at the end of what they had found to be an otherwise very exciting spectacle. I was taken out of my cage, still frustrated of course, and sentenced to be given twenty strokes of the whip there and then by the equally angry Negro, on my bare buttocks.

I had to kiss my two Mistresses feet as a way of begging their pardon for my failure. Then, whilst the negro administered the strokes, I had to bark my agreement that at the next similar performance I would not pretend to be disgusted, that I would show myself to be a bitch who really loved her Great Dane Master, and that of course I would swallow every drop that nature allowed my lover to offer me as precious food!

That was, indeed, just what happened, only a week later, during a similar performance. This one was attended by no less a personage than the Sheik himself, as well as by my husband Faisal, both keen to see the latest trick that Raisa had taught her performing bitch to do.

Once again, the grinning negro jerked Tiny's head away just as I was about to explode under the thrilling stroking of his tongue. Once again I was taken back into my cage frustrated and shaking amidst the laughter of the spectators.

But worse was to follow, my Keeper had found me pressing my beauty lips up against the bars for Tiny to lick. He had reported this to Raisa. She was furious and gave orders for my chain to be shortened very slightly, so that I could not quite reach the bars and Tiny's consoling tongue.

So now I wad doubly humiliated and frustrated as I felt the negro fastening the iron collar and heavy chain around my neck again. Not only was I frustrated, but I really would remains so until I next came on heat - just as my cruel Mistress had originally intended I should be.

My little nightly sessions with Tiny through the bars were over. I really would not now get any pleasure until I came on heat each month - something which I now longed for as my frustration and desire built up. Now I really would, meanwhile, masochistically have to dedicate my frustrated sensuality to my beautiful Mistress.

It is easy to imagine my mental state. I realised that on top of all the daily lesbian attentions that I had to pay to my Mistress and her friends, I now not only had to submit to be mated, or raped as I regarded it, by Tiny once a month when I came on heat, but now also had to give him weekly relief with my mouth.

Moreover, both these occasions were now public spectacles with Raisa proudly showing off ... her two well trained performing dogs, one of whom, of course, was really a human being.

You can imagine that after all these performances, I would return to my cage scarcely knowing what I was, scarcely able to think. However, I was always driven on by my intense feeling of frustration and desire, not only masochistically to please my cruel Mistress and her friends in the most degrading lesbian ways as a little trained dog, but also driven by a more normal desire to please my strong male Master, Tiny.

All I knew was that I had been lowered to the level of an animal, looked like one, ate like one, did my business like one, and even had sex like one.

At least, I thought, my Mistress could not be planning any further degrading humiliations for me. I had already, I felt, reached the very bottom. Nothing could be worse than what Raisa had already put me through.

But I was wrong, quite wrong, as I was soon to learn.

If I had known what was to happen,I think I would have tried to have killed myself - though God knows what with or how.

17 - ASSESSED FOR PUPPY BREEDING

One day I was aware that the Princess was very upset about something. I was lying curled up at her feet but she seemed too preoccupied to bother about me.

The Indian veterinary surgeon came in and she turned on him bitterly.

"How could you have let this happen?" she screamed, "and just before I have to send Tiny back to his owner who's now returned from abroad. He won't lend him to be again!"

Tiny's going to be sent away, I thought. How awful. My lovely friend, my lover, my Master, is being taken away. Oh how sad. Now I knew how animals must feel when they are separated from their mates by human beings.

"And," went on Raisa,"you let one of my prize Great Dane bitches lose her litter because of the climate, and the litter of the other one all die because they're born too weak for it."

She paused for breath.

"Well," she now said quietly and despairingly, "I suppose I can't blame you. But I've lost two potentially very valuable litters. What should I do? Abandon the idea of breeding Great Danes out here? I shall look such a fool - everyone warned me that they would not breed in this climate."

The Indian smiled.

"Your Highness, all is not lost. I have an idea. I have been keeping in close touch with the latest medical research - in a certain field. Oh the miracles of modern medicine!"

"Ha!" cried the Princess angrily. "How can they help?"

Indeed, I thought. What on earth was the Indian vet rabbeting on about? I was sorry for the Princes and the failure of her dog breeding plans, but at least they were nothing to do with me.

"Your Highness, think a moment. You need a brood bitch with a track record of successfully carrying progeny in this climate right through to delivery."

"Of, course!"

"And it would be best if the brood bitch had already been covered by your stallion dog, and was known to him."

"Yes, but ..."

"And if she had already proved herself to be big and strong enough to carry the progeny for a week or two over the normal two months so that the puppies are born that much stronger.

"And just where do you think I'm going to find one like that, may I ask," Raisa said sarcastically. Once again, yes indeed, I thought.

Suddenly I saw that the veterinary surgeon was pointing at me.

"Here!" he said.

"What!" cried the Princess scornfully. "But you know very she's really a girl and you can't cross animals with humans."

"No, Your Highness," he replied in a low voice that I could not hear properly. "But in this day and age they can make very good ..."I could not make out the end of his sentence, but it sounded rather like, "surrogate brood bitches". What's that mean, I wondered. I had been studying English literature at College, not biology! What on earth was he talking about?

"The miracles of modern medicine," he repeated. "It is a new technique that I have been studying closely."

"And who would be the real mother," asked Raisa suspiciously. What did she mean, I wondered.

"We could use your best pedigree bitches."

"Oh!" now cried the Princess enthusiastically. "Well! You mean the brood bitch would be put to Tiny just as she has already several times. But this time you would have done something to her beforehand?"

"Exactly, Your Highness!"

"But is there any need to put her to the dog at all. Can't you it all in you laboratory,"

"Yes, but experience has shown that there is a greater likelihood of the girl taking if the conception takes place, as naturally as possible, and in her body rather than in a test-tube."

"Yes,I see," said Raisa, thoughtfully. "And would it still only be a couple of months before the puppies were born."

"Oh yes, but of course, we would want to take advantage of the surrogate mother being bigger, for her to carry them for an extra couple of weeks, so that they are born much bigger and stronger. That's why we must use a young broad-hipped European woman. The slender and narrow-hipped women of the East would not be suitable."

"How many ... did you have in mind?"

"Oh I think, Your Highness, that we should aim for at least six."

"Good! Excellent! That would make me a lot of money!" The Princess was rubbing her hands together with delight. "Well then, you'd better have look at her to make sure she's up to the job."

I had been confused by this conversation. What had it all to do with me? What job? Why did the vet have to look at poor little me? And just what were they talking about?

He now gestured to me to stand up. He was wearing a white coast like a doctor. He and the Princess now stood back and looked carefully at my dog skin clad body, with it's cutouts over the breasts and between the legs.

The Princess came up to me. She put her hands, lovingly, over the tight dogskin covering my flowing hips, as if comparing them with my waist which was now slender again. Then she turned to the white clad Indian.

"Well, what do you think?"

The Indian in turn ran his hands down over my hips as if assessing them professionally. He nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, Your Highness, her last twin whelps spread her hips well. There's plenty of room here."

His hands now ran over my belly.

"And we have already seen how this can expand to meet nature's requirements," he laughed. "Yes, I don't think there would be any problems. She has the makings of a fine ... "

His words, in a quiet sing-song Indian accent, tailed off and I did not hear the end of his sentence. A fine what? It sounded a bit like "brood bitch". But that was absurd.

How embarrassing it was being assessed like this, like an animal. But being assessed for what? And I still did not understand, in my naivety, why the Princess and her veterinary surgeon be so interested in my hips?

A little stool was then brought up and the veterinary surgeon sat down, right in front of me. "Please be parting your legs and bending your knees," he said politely in his sing-song Indian accent.

I felt him slowly and carefully feeling up inside me, knowingly and expertly. Raisa held me tightly.

"Yes she's very suitable," he remarked wiping his hands on a towel.

Suitable! Suitable for what? I still did not understand.

Then the Princess lifted up one of my full firm breasts as if weighing it.

"Do you think she'll be able to produce enough to feed them?" she asked.

I blushed.

The veterinary surgeon lifted up my other breast.

"Yes, Your Highness," he said, "she's just done very well with those two puppies and nature will ensure that her breasts grow even heavier to feed more. I think she'll do them them well."

I was confused about just what they were now talking about. Being a veterinary surgeon, the Indian was more used to animals than humans. But why was Princess having me examined by him and not by a doctor.

"Well, that's what I want after all those disappointments," Princess Raisa said mysteriously. What did she mean? "But are you sure it will work? I don't want an expensive failure that will make me look a fool."

"Then, why don't we a trial run, using one of your Filipino servant girls? She'd be too slim hipped for the full treatment, but we can see if she takes alright with just one. Then if she does take we can go ahead with the full scale project, using this human bitch of yours."

My head was reeling. Trial runs, full scale treatment, taking alright with just one ... What on earth were they were talking about? They seemed to have switched to discussing other bitches. At least, I thought, they were not talking about me any more.

"But we must not hurry the process," said the veterinary surgeon. 'Let her think, right up to the last moment, that it'll just be another mating like the others. We want her body to be looking forward to it!"

"Right," said the Princess. "and the trial run will give me plenty of time to invite a really select audience to come and watch something quite new to them. I think you should speak them in Arabic and explain what's going to happen to the girl. Then they'll fascinated to see it being done and then to see what happens afterwards ... Oh incidentally - she's such a pretty creature. Any objection to me meanwhile continuing to use for her for my pleasure."

"None at all, Your Highness, provided she's kept thinking of herself as a bitch and not allowed to revert back to being a human again.

"Oh she won't revert back - that I guarantee," laughed the Princess.

Then laughing to herself and rubbing her hands in apparent glee, she turned on her heels and, followed by the Indian veterinary surgeon, strode out of the room.

I was left standing there, relieved to be no longer being paraded in front of the vet. Soon I dropped back onto my knees, for I was not used to standing up.

In the light of what happened later on, it must sound very naive, but the fact was that I had been so embarrassed to be inspected intimately by the vet, that I simply had not taken in the implications of their whispered conversation.

I still had no real inkling about what they were planning to use me for. Perhaps it was just as well.

18 - A SUCCESSFUL TRIAL RUN

I thought back over the past month since I had been made to give that spectacular performance with Tiny in the Sheik's banqueting hall.

Since then, I had been made to continue to satisfy Tiny with my mouth every week, whilst Raisa had me brought to her daily to perform the lesbian tricks that she had taught me.

However, of course, I had to satisfy both her and Tiny, whilst remaining almost totally frustrated myself. Raisa cruelly continued to say that she'd only allowed me relief once a month when I came on heat and was put to Tiny.

She herself never deigned to give me relief when I was pleasing her, and any relief I managed to obtain whilst being covered by Tiny was incidental to his aim of simply raping me!

Moreover, as I have described, with the chain in my cage now shortened I could no longer get at least some relief by offering my beauty lips to Tiny's tongue through the bars separated us. Raisa had seen to that!

She also knew, of course, that the thick rubber that encased my hands and formed my front paws made it virtually impossible for me to give myself any relief. In any case, with the cage lit up, even at night, the patrolling Keepers would have seen what I was doing. I still remembered with dread Raisa's threat to have my beauty bud cut off if I was ever caught playing with myself.

It was all so unfair! Raisa had succeeded in controlling the sensuousness that she herself had aroused. It gave her a feeling of power that she found very exciting.

What made my frustration even worse was now made to watch Tiny, my lover as I regarded him, being used to cover another bitch-girl who had been put in with me in my cage.

Like me her head and face was covered by her headpiece, and her body by a dog skin. Usually we were both kept muzzled and, on the rare occasions when our muzzles were removed, we discovered that we had no common language. So I did not know who she was or why she was in the kennels. But I think she may have been a Filipino girl.

She had been put into my cage two days after my last mating, apparently, I heard Raisa, say so as to have a trial run before my next mating which she said was going to be for real. I did not understand what she meant.

I felt madly jealous of this new girl-bitch, for her her chain had not been shortened like mine. So she was able to exchange coy little licks with Tiny - my Tiny!

I contented myself, however, with the thought that I would be coming on heat myself before long and that having to watch Tiny covering me would certainly put her into her place!

But to my fury, it was she who was first taken by our Keeper into Tiny's cage - not me!

Earlier that day the Indian veterinary surgeon arrived and the girl was taken off to his laboratory to have something done to her.

And that evening it was she, and not me, who went through the strange instinctive ritual of coyly jumping about to avoid the male until, made ready by Tiny's wonderful tongue, she found herself offering herself to him - just as I used to. I just had to watch it all from my cage, consumed with jealousy.

To make it worse, the now happy bitch was brought back into my cage, and I had to put up with her smug and superior ways as a bitch who had been covered by my lover, my Master.

The Veterinary surgeon now came to visit her every day. He seemed very pleased. A week after the girl's mating I noticed that she was sick in the morning. Surely she could not be expecting? Expecting what? Even I knew that humans could not conceive by an animal.

But after two weeks I noticed that the dog skins on her belly were clearly stretched. Goodness!

She was taken off to the vet's laboratory and shortly after she was brought back, Raisa came to our cage.

"The trial run has worked, Your Highness," I heard the vet say with a smug smile. "The scan show a pretty little creature well in place. We can now go ahead with the full scale project."

I still did not understand. What creature. In place where?

The girl was then taken away and I never saw her again.

My God, I thought, how low have I fallen! To be jealous, furiously jealous, of some chit of a Filipino girl because she had been raped by a dog by order of my Mistress.

19 - MATED FOR REAL

The Indian veterinary surgeon now started to visit my cage daily again. I had to press my naked buttocks against the bars of the cage so that the Breeding Keeper could hold humiliatingly hold the cheeks apart. Then the vet would insert a well greased thermometer.

He never said anything, but I noticed that he carefully noted the result in a notebook marked with my name in capital letters: Kelbai. It was a notebook. I remembered, that he had used to note details of my progress whilst I had been pregnant by the Sheik and again whilst feeding the puppies.

He had already put me on a course of strange looking pills, which I assumed were vitamin pills intended to help restore my health, after my enforced pregnancy and protracted lactation. I remembered with horror the fertility pills that Marak had put me on. Little did I know that these ones were anti-rejection pills.

One day, I realised that Raisa was planning a repeat of my performance with Tiny at another big party in the palace. Tiny and I were once again to be the great attraction. There had seemed some doubt however, as to just when it would take place, and I kept hearing Raisa asking the Indian vet whether I was ready yet.

I did not understand what she meant, for I knew that I was not due to come into season for a couple of weeks, and I assumed that as usual I would only be mated with him when I was in season - to make it seem more realistic from an animal point of view.

Then one day, just after the vet had taken my temperature, I saw him talking excitedly to Raisa. She was rubbing her hands in delight and anticipation. Then I heard her give orders for the feast to be the very next day. I wanted to cry out that I was not yet in season, but my Mistress anticipated me.

"Now listen carefully, my little Kelbai," she said. "You're going to be mated with Tiny again as a spectacle at the feast that the Sheik will be giving tomorrow to our friends and to the Ambassadors of certain Arab countries. This time, your muzzle will be removed so that people can hear your little cries. But there will be no Europeans to hear your protests. Understand?"

Dumbly I nodded.

"But there will be a big difference between this time when Tiny covers you and all the previous ones. This time it will be for real. This time you're going to conceive!"

No! No! I wanted to scream, but my cruel Mistress had put my muzzle back on again.

"Yes, this time you will not be in season. On the contrary, the vet tells me that you are now nicely ready to conceive - just like that other surrogate brood bitch, the Filipino girl. She became well and truly pregnant by Tiny - and so will you. And thanks to our vet it will also be pure little pedigree Great Danes puppies that you'll be carrying. She's only carrying one, but you're going to carry six!"

"No! No! Don't do this to me, please, Mistress, please," I longed to cry out. Suddenly I understood that whispered conversation between the Princess and her vet when, following her failure to breed Great Danes naturally, I had been assessed, I now realised, for puppy breeding. Oh my God!

But my Mistress continued implacably.

"Now stop snivelling, Kelbai," said Raisa harshly. "You're a very lucky little dog to be allowed to produce little puppies for your Mistress. You're just my little bitch, my brood bitch, and I can use your body in any way I want, whether you like it or not - and without even telling you what I am doing."

She reached down and patted my head piece.

"Real bitches don't get told when they are going to be covered. And so I've been very kind telling you beforehand. Now you're going to be taken back to your cage to be got ready."

But I still did not understand what she meant. Humans cannot conceive by an animal!

The following afternoon, I was taken by the Breeding Keeper crawling into the veterinary surgeon's laboratory, just as I had seen the Filipino girl being taken. Still on all fours I was made to thrust my buttocks back towards him. I heard him take something from a refrigerator. Then, as the excited Breeding Keeper, held my beauty lips well apart, I felt him insert a plastic syringe. Moments later I felt something being injected up into into me.

The whole process was repeated half a dozen times. Then without a word of explanation I was taken back to my cage. What I wondered had been done to me? Was it some form of hygiene?

My mind was in a turmoil that evening as, once again, Tiny and I made a splendid entry into the arena.

Tiny was eagerly tugging on his lead, held by Alysha, but I had to be driven in by Raisa's whip. Once again we danced around each other as instinctively, but this time quite genuinely, I found myself playing the part of a coy bitch trying desperately to avoid the male's attentions. Oh God, I said to myself, don't let him cover me!

Once again, however, I was helpless once he started to lick me. Once again I could not help myself from becoming highly aroused. Once again I found myself parting my legs and thrusting up my buttocks, humiliatingly unable to prevent myself from offering up my body to the male in front of all these people.

Once again, following a beating, I was mounted by Tiny. I could feel his furry hindquarters thrusting madly against my naked bottom. It was wildly exciting.

Once again I felt Tiny's seed jetting deep inside me. But this time I heard Raisa cry out, "Take it little bitch, take it, take it right up!"

My life as Raisa's little pet continued,and I was deliriously happy serving her.

Every day the Breeding Keeper made me place some of my liquid wastes into a special bowl which he then mysteriously took away, "for testing".

One day I saw the Indian vet come into Raisa's room grinning all over his face. He whispered something to Raisa. I heard her laugh with delight. Then she turned around and patted me.

"Oh Kelbai, you are a clever little bitch," she said. "Aren't you proud to be your Mistress's prize brood bitch! And you're going to give her such lovely little puppies. And you conceived just in time, for Tiny is being sent back to his owner tomorrow!"

I wept bitterly as Tiny was led away. My lover! My Master! The father of my progeny!

20 - MY OWN LITTER OF PUPPIES

It must have been about two weeks later that I began to feel little kicks in my tummy - far more than when I had simply been carrying the Sheik's twins. But how could I be pregnant by Tiny, I longed to scream out to Raisa.

It was, I thought ruefully, my second pregnancy in little over a year and, in each case, I had been forced to carry my progeny for Raisa's delight, against my will. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that I could do about it.

I must admit, however, that it made me feel wonderful - as if my body was achieving its intended function.

I was taken back to the Indian vet's laboratory. Again I was strapped down so that I could not see the screen of the scan.

"One!" I heard the vet say to Raisa as he pointed to the screen. "Two ... Three ... Four ... Five ...and, yes, ... six!"

"Oh you clever little bitch!" cried Raisa. "You're going to give me six adorable little puppies."

Puppies! My God! But how, how could it have happened?

My tummy was becoming heavier and heavier as I crawled round my cage, and I felt more and more bloated. I tried to hate the little creatures that I was being made to carry to earn money for my Mistress. By my maternal instinct was too strong.

A real bitch, who was also heavily in whelp, was put into Tiny's now empty cage. The Breeding Keeper kept pointing to her, and raising his dog whip menacingly.

"You watch! You learn!" he would say.

I saw that with her teeth, she dragged bits of straw from out of her shelter and made a sort of little nest in the front of her cage. It was as if she wanted to show how clever she was going to be in producing her litter and to show them off to her Mistress - my Mistress.

Horrified, I had later seen how, with the Breeding Keeper standing over her, she had dropped her litter unaided. Terrified at the thought that I would soon be doing the same, and yet fascinated, I had watched as each still blind puppy had appeared, one after the other. I had watched her lick the little crawling creatures dry. They were so sweet and helpless! I felt my heart go out to them. I as sure that mine would be just as sweet. How clever they had been in arousing my maternal instincts in this way.

I saw the negro looking at me to make sure that I was watching it all. He again raised his whip menacingly. I gave a little bark of submission and obedience. He smiled.

Fascinated, and closely associating myself with her, I watched the bitch, now recovered from her whelping, pick up each little puppy and carry it with her teeth to the little nest that she had made. Then when she had collected all of them, she lay down on her side. Soon all six pups, their little tails wriggling with delight, were sucking away at her nipples.

I felt an ache in my own swollen nipples. Horrified and yet thrilled, I realised that I was longing for the day when I would start feeding my own litter. I found myself looking around for the best place to build my own nest. I, too, wanted to show my Mistress what a clever little bitch I had been. I, too, started to carry out bits of straw in my teeth and build my nest ...

"She's getting broody, just like a real bitch," I heard my Mistress say in a delighted tone to the vet.

I blushed under my mask.

"Yes, dear lady," replied the vet in a low tone that he thought I would not hear, "but it is all much too early. Remember that we do not want her to whelp yet. The whole aim of our experiment is to use a wide-hipped Nordic girl, instead of these little narrow-hipped oriental creatures, so as to delay whelping until the dwarfs are as big and healthy as possible. I'll give her the first delaying injection today."

I was terrified, but once again I was strapped down helpless on my back in the shelter. I had to lie there for several weeks whilst I felt the whelps kicking more and more violently, as as my tummy swelled and swelled.

At last I heard the vet speak to Raisa, during one of my regular visits to his laboratory and to the sonic scanner.

"I am thinking, dear lady," he said in his sing song Indian accent, "that we should now be letting nature take its course. Look! The whelps are now really big and strong."

No more injections were given to me and I was free to crawl around my cage, though as always with the heavy chain still fastened to my neck. My body seemed huge and bloated and I could hardly crawl to the front of the cage to complete my nest.

The next day, with the huge Breeding Keeper standing over me, his whip in his hand, I whelped kneeling on all fours - but unlike the real bitch I had watched whelping, I was chained down over a sort of pedestal in front of a comfortably seated audience, with a video camera recording the unusual event. I dropped six little Great Dane puppies onto the straw. Just like the real bitch I had to carry each of them in my teeth to the nest I had prepared. How I longed to be able to hold them like a normal human mother. They melted my heart, they were so sweet.

I lay down alongside them, just as I had seen the bitch do. In no time the six of them were fighting to get at my two nipples. This made the audience laugh. One seemed smaller than the others, and was constantly being swept aside. He would be my favourite, I decided, as I gently pushed the other two back with my paws so that he could suck one of my breasts unhindered. But they were all six my off-spring, my progeny, my litter. I must treat them all fairly ...

I wondered what to call them. The names of the dwarfs in Snow White came to mind: Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey ... Yes, mentally I named them all.

As I looked down at them, I felt so proud. I had made them! They were mine! Wasn't I a clever little bitch?

I heard my Mistress and the vet talking as they watched through the bars.

"It worked!" the vet was saying in a delighted tone. "They are strong little puppies and she dropped them one after the other with no problems at all. And she has accepted them. She'll rear them really well and with her breasts now so big there'll be plenty of milk for all of them."

"I always said that a pretty and intelligent white girl would make an ideal brood bitch," laughed Raisa. "What a pity we've had to send Tiny away - or I'd quickly breed from her again."

"But,"interrupted the negro Breeding Keeper, "maybe we soon use her for something else ..."

21 - JEALOUSY

My life as my Mistress's loving little lesbian slave dog resumed its normal course. There seemed to be no more talk of breeding from me, anyway for the time being. My life was now wholly devoted to pleasing and satisfying the Mistress whom I loved.

However there was a new departure in that, if my zeal and application were judged by her to be sufficient, then she would now allow me certain pleasures and sensual delights. I was even occasionally allowed, or made, to climax in her presence! But I still remained body and soul the exclusive property of the Princess Raisa whose little signs of affection I eagerly sought.

Then one day I noticed, not without some bitterness, another girl kneeling by my Mistress. She was also a European girl! She had clearly recently been acquired by Raisa. She was a little smaller than me, with darker hair, but was very attractive. She was about eighteen, I thought, the same age as I had been when I found myself in the harem and then in the kennels. She too, I learned, was destined for the Kennels.

I had now to relive, as a silent watcher, all the painful episodes that I myself had suffered, when I had first arrived in Arabia and had been given to Raisa. I had almost forgotten them all, thanks to the deliberate development of my animal sensuality.

I watched as she was branded, which I must admit I found rather exciting, and as she was measured for her all-embracing dog skin, which was to be black in colour to go with her colouring. I also watched the cutting off of her beautiful hair, the shaving of her skull and the removal of her body hair. She cried out bitterly whilst all this was being done to her and had to be severely punished.

I also had to witness her carefully planned training, firstly as a dog, and then as a lesbian. It was a training in which I was often reluctantly used as a model and example. Indeed, I was very happy and well treated during the month long period of her training, which was very tough because she proved to be stubborn and little inclined to satisfy my Mistress's desires. This attitude by my fellow creature got on the nerves of my Mistress, and made her keen than ever to obtain from me the caresses that the other little dog refused to give willingly.

Indeed, out of sheer jealousy, whenever my Mistress called me to her and ordered me to assuage the desires that punishing my companion had aroused, I would put more effort than usual, and more love, in procuring for her the voluptuous pleasure and thrilling climax that she wanted.

So, of course, I was sitting very pretty! My Mistress would reward me, as I have said, by giving me a little pleasure, too - without of course, humbling herself in any way, for she was always careful to maintain the distance that separated her position in life from mine.

My fellow bitch, would be well and truly whipped and punished with her bare bottom and breasts covered in weals. She would be weeping behind her dog mask. I, in contrast, would be rather proud to be making my Mistress happy. I enjoyed showing off to the other bitch my delight in savouring my Mistress's juices, and I would flaunt how much pleasure my Mistress had condescended to give me!

I won't lie, I admit that when I was ordered to lick my companion, I tried to hurt her by biting her - out of a feeling of ... pure jealousy ... even though we both shared the same servitude. I felt that she was not needed. I wanted to be the only little human dog that belonged to my Mistress and to be the only one who was allowed to satisfy her.

The humiliation, however, was terrible for both of us when our Mistress, or some friend of hers or even a slave girl, would take us out, coupled together on the same lead, with our jaws tightly muzzled, to relieve ourselves. We were made to perform side by side, or even more degradingly, one after the other onto the same spot of sand, our tail plugs being removed if we were to pass our solid wastes.

Our muzzles would then be taken off temporarily and we would be ordered to clean each other, with our tongues. The muzzles would then be carefully replaced, preventing us from uttering one word, and our masks preventing us from even exchanging proper looks.

Whereas, on the whole, I had been rather submissive, and had soon accepted my destiny, my companion on my Mistress's lead was really stubborn, constantly fighting against her fate. The poor creature's buttocks were almost continually on fire. With her skin made desperately sensitive, she must have suffered terribly,for hardly had one set of punishment ceased than the next would start.

The Mistress, however, was determined to break her in and bring her to heel. The punishments went on and on - until the day when, at last, she realised that all resistance was useless and she finally bowed her head in submission.

I was still unable to speak a word to her, and so unable to give her a little word of advice based on my own experiences, for our Mistress watched us constantly, or had us muzzled, specifically to prevent us from talking to each other. We were even muzzled coming from the Kennels or returning to it, coupled on the same chain lead and led by the Jewish girl who was always very strict with us.

The cage of Oslo, as she was humiliatingly now called by our Mistress, seeking to give her new Great Dane bitch a good Scandinavian sounding name, was not far away from mine. We could just see each other. But we were separated by at least five other cages. So no communication was possible.

As I said, despite her heroic resistance, Oslo was forced to submit, just as I had been. She, too, finally realised that it was better, especially for her exposed bottom and breasts, to obey and, further more, to execute the orders she received with a show of zeal and alacrity. As a mere spectator, I noticed once again, as I myself had learned, how persuasive the whip can be.

We were both very well looked after as regards care and cleanliness. Ever since I had first been put into my cage, one morning a week had been devoted entirely to this. Two huge great negro kennelmen would come into my cage. They would strip me stark naked, shave my head again, remove all signs of body hair, douche me, give me an enema, wash me, rinse me, polish my breasts and my exposed and now hairless mound, paint my nipples and my beauty lips with a gleaming bright red paint and finally, cover me with anti-flea powder.

We were also kept on a healthy, if simple diet, similar to that of real dogs: plenty of dog biscuits, mixed with lumps of meat, boiled rice and vegetables. Additionally however, little bits of fresh fruit and dates were also put in with our food once a day. Occasionally we were allowed a bowl of milk to lap up with our tongues.

But we were also sometimes given delicious little tit bits by our Mistress, or her friends. Like real dogs, we loved these and would hungrily watch the Mistress and her friends helping themselves to sweets, chocolates, Turkish Delight and sweet little Arab cakes. But we were only given them if we had first earned them by being very obedient, or by doing humiliating little tricks such as holding certain positions, motionless like statues.

As well as sitting up and begging, we might have to assume the position for relieving ourselves, for cocking a leg like a male dog, or for offering ourselves to a dog when on heat. We would have to fetch a ball, dropping it at the Mistress's feet as if begging her to throw it again for us to retrieve. We would scamper after it, each trying to be the first to pick it up with our teeth - and hopefully be the one to be rewarded with a sweet.

All that I now saw of Oslo were her flashing eyes, her pert little hanging breasts, her delicate little body lips and her prominent buttocks. From these, I guessed she was Italian.

Once we spent a quite awful day together. It was a day full of humiliations and punishments.

First, our Mistress took us both, muzzled and coupled together on a single lead, so that we had to run on all fours, side by side, either in front of her or behind her, into the palace grounds.

Then when she was satisfied that we had done our business and had licked each other clean, we were taken to her chauffeur driven car. We drove to the old part of the town, the souk or market, where we had to get out and endure the jeers of passers-by, and especially of numerous veiled women. Men would spit on the ground in contempt at the sight of us, recognising us as hated Christians now happily reduced, by the will of Allah, to the service of an Arab princess, and to the status of a mere dog.

Raisa was on her way to visit one of her women friends whom I had seen several times in the palace. She was, I gathered, the wife or favourite concubine of a rich merchant, and had two children, a boy of ten and a girl of twelve.

As soon as we arrived, we were let off our leads, but, still tightly muzzled, we had to serve throughout the whole afternoon, as living toy dogs for those two spoilt children to play with. They had little whips and canes, and made us submit to the most awful things, pinching us until we bled, beating us, pulling our nipples, kicking us and riding us like horses.

Then when we whined, our Mistress and her friend got up to find out what all the trouble was about. They blamed us, of course, and administered a severe punishment to both of us - much to the delight of the two children who called out: "More! More!"

We returned that evening absolutely exhausted, and I for one was very happy to be put back into my cage. How I missed Tiny! On that day I and Oslo would dearly have loved to have been able to say a few words to each other, if only to cheer ourselves up, but, of course, with our muzzled tightly strapped, we could only exchange sympathetic looks.

So it was that my initial feelings of jealousy towards my fellow bitch became blurred and were, sometimes, partly replaced by softer and more tender feelings, which became increasingly apparent when we were ordered, or allowed, to lick ... each other ...

On these occasions our Mistress would place us so that our mouths, freed for this purpose from our muzzles, were right opposite our respective beauty lips. Then whilst she stood over us with her whip, we would have to lick each other, each of desperately trying to keep control of her own senses and to make the other climax first. It was desperately difficult not to give way. For each of us was driven on by the other's caresses, which in turn were driven on by our Mistress's whip.

The bitch who held out last, and won the contest, would have won the right to be recompensed in the same way by our Mistress, whilst she who lost received a dozen strokes of her whip! The beating was made all the more awful by the fact that the bitch being beaten had climaxed only moments before. It was a devilishly Machiavellian trick of our Mistress who thereby ensured that both her little dogs remained fundamentally jealous of each other!

Oslo had not served an apprenticeship in the harem, as I had done. Moreover, she was still a virgin when she was kidnapped by a slave dealer and sold to Raisa.

I had silently contributed considerably to her sexual education, but it was not until I later realised her state of innocence that I understood the resistance she must have put up during her training period, a resistance that had resulted in so many severe chastisements.

However, the discovery of the joys of lesbianism had contributed enormously to her subsequent submissiveness and to her acceptance of her slavery.

Certainly, her submission would have come a good deal earlier if only we had been able to exchange the odd phrase, or even the odd word, but this had been deliberately made doubly impossible, firstly,by our Mistress's strict orders and, secondly by the tight muzzles which were only taken off at the last moment when our tongues were required for caressing!

We would spend entire days now, caressing each other under the direction of our Mistress, or of her friends. Sometimes they would join in with our little games, but usually only as an excuse for more cruelty, using their whips or pinching and squeezing of our breasts.

Our Mistress particularly liked to make us lie on our backs, side by side, having first beaten us on the bottom to ensure complete obedience. She would then remove our muzzles, so that we could push our tongues out through the little slit in our dog masks in front of our mouths.

Then, she would make herself comfortable by sitting down first on one dog mask and then the other, making us lick her alternatively from behind and in front. Only our rather human looking tongues, and the human looking eyes peering out in a terrified way from behind the little eyelets in the dog masks,gave any indication that it was indeed real women, and white ones at that, who were being made to please her so degradingly.

Meanwhile, she would be amusing herself by squeezing our breasts or by tickling our beauty lips with her fingers, with the tip of her dog whip, or with an ostrich feather, so as to make us both climax at the same time as herself and to her order.

Woe betide us if we did not succeed in catching up with her own exhilaration, or if we allowed our wetness to appear before we felt hers on our desperately busy tongues!

Then we had to lick her clean with our tongues, swallowing the liquid that she dropped onto us, before doing the same to each other. Often our Mistress would invite visiting women friends to participate in these constantly varying performances, each one made more erotic than its predecessor according to the imagination of the participants themselves.

Often the Princess and her friends would hold a race between themselves ... to make me or Oslo climax first ... Naturally to be second in this race, resulted in the guilty party being punished straight away - a punishment that was all the more painful because it took place immediately after climaxing.

Oslo soon got used to these caresses, caresses of a type which she had never previously known. Not having been yet deflowered by a man, as I had been, she could not make any comparisons ... But when her physical passions were assuaged, her whole body would suddenly relax, and it was clear that the pleasure she felt was considerable. The refinements introduced by Raisa and her friends always excited her more and more, and contributed to making her an accomplished and passionate lesbian who desired no other form of pleasure.

22 - MY FRIEND'S INTRODUCTION TO MEN

One day, I saw two men among our Mistress's guests! They were very handsome and presumably leading local citizens. Excited by the sight of one of our erotic performances, they declared their desire to feel for themselves the caresses of these two little bitches.

With our Mistress standing over us, her whip in her hand, Oslo and I had to kneel before them on all fours, as lounging comfortably in their arm chairs, they bared their manhoods and presented them to our mouths.

For me, who knew a little of what it was all about, it was still a revolting task to have to reach out with my tongue to the most sensitive parts and to bring the manhood to erection. Then, although deprived of the use of my hands, I knew I had to bring my temporary Master to his climax, knowing that, at the decisive moment he would brutally thrust his manhood deep into my mouth, thus taking me with his warm seed jetting down my throat.

I would, of course, have to swallow it, and then thank him for the honour with a little bark of joy!

But for poor Oslo, for whom it was all a first time ever, it was far worse. First, she was clumsy and awkward whilst licking, despite the zeal which she normally brought to her work, - and for this she was quickly punished by our Mistress's whip. Then, when she felt the swollen manhood penetrate deep down her throat, she lost her head and thought she was going to suffocate.

But the man held her tight to his body and made her keep his manhood in her mouth and to absorb all the bitter tasting seed. Meanwhile, her Mistress was giving her a good beating on her bottom and another woman was busy twisting her nipples!

With her mouth full of slimy seed, her bottom on fire, and her breasts aching madly, she almost fainted and fell to the floor ... shaken by sobs of disgust ... mixed, she realised with horror, with little shivers of delight!

As she could not use her rubber covered hands, it was I who, under the threat of the whip, had to clean her mouth, licking up everything that I could find, like a little dog.

If this day had been unpleasant for me, for Oslo it had been quite awful She had, she later told me, been completely revolted by the man. But perhaps this was just what Mistress Raisa wanted and had secretly. For, from then on, the little bitch showed much more keenness to be an effective little lesbian!

It was just about at this time that I saw Raisa thrusting two, rather familiar, red pills down Oslo's throat. She repeated this every day. Although she did not know it, she was now on a course of fertility pills, just as I had been in the harem. Goodness!

Raisa did not want Oslo to retain her virginity indefinitely - she wanted the excitement of using her as a breeding slave.

I remembered Raisa cruelly saying that she liked a breeding slave to drop her first progeny whilst she was still in her teens. Surely Oslo's first maternity would not now be long delayed. I wondered in what form it would be. I soon learnt.

Raisa now decided to offer the girl's virginity to her powerful father ... as a birthday present!

Thus it was that Oslo found herself one day being taken out of the Kennels by Marak. She had to follow him to the harem, where he had her stripped of her dog skin, bathed, scented, and made up.

A wig was placed over her shiny bald head in place of the dog's head. She was dressed like a sultana, covered with jewels and taken to the Master who was highly amused.

He made her caress him in every sort of way imaginable and finished by taking her. When he finally penetrated her, she gave a terrible cry as she felt her flesh being torn apart. It was thus that she received, without any enthusiasm one must admit, the homage of her Lord and Master.

He, however, declared himself well satisfied, for the drops of blood that appeared showed that he had not been cheated by the proffered merchandise! He had indeed opened her up and had even left in this beautiful, virginal, promised land the seed which resulted in the Breeding Keeper delightedly reporting to Raisa, a couple of weeks later, that the slave-bitch Oslo had taken and was now in whelp.

23 - I AM USED TO BREED DWARFS

It was shortly before Oslo her virginity to the Sheik, that one morning, whilst fighting off the demands of my six hungry puppies, I saw that a new dog was being put into Tiny's old cage.

There was something strange about him, however. Horrified, I realised that he was a human being, albeit a very small human one. Like me, he had been sewn into a real dog skin. I saw that, unlike me, he was not muzzled, nor had his dog skin been cut away like mine over his chest and buttocks. On the contrary, even his his manhood was encased in a real furry dog skin sheath ...

His head and face were completely covered by his headpiece. I could not even make out through the tiny eye holes whether under his dog mask he was white, black, brown or yellow.

I was thrilled to find a fellow human being - but why was another human being kept dressed like a dog in this awful menagerie? Merely for the amusement of the awful Sheik and his cruel daughter?

He did not seem to move like a child. Surely, I thought, he could not be a dwarf! A dwarf kept caged and dressed like an animal!

Appalled, I then saw that the tip of his tongue had been ringed. He could not speak! He could only bark and make whining noises - just like me when I had my muzzle on.

Shocked, I looked away towards the cage on the other side. In it was the same real live leopard, walking up and down his cage and growling at me and at my new companion, menacingly and hungrily. My God!

Raisa had again deliberately surrounded me on one side with a terrifying looking leopard, and on the other side with what seemed to be a sort of dwarf mute. She must have done this deliberately. But why?

What could I now do other than accept my fate? But what was it now to be?

Terrified of the growling leopard, I now struck up a friendly relationship with the little dwarf, just as I had with Tiny. I had missed him so much and was pleased to have found a new friend.

From the board on his cage I learned that his name was Hercules. What a cruel name for a dwarf! I wondered why he had been put into a dog skin. Was was it for my benefit, to keep me thinking that I really was a dog?

I was terribly embarrassed when I saw that that just as my presence had made Tiny's manhood come into erection, so too Hercules's manhood would thrust it's way through it's enveloping dog sheath. With a shock I saw that it was not pink or white, but coffee colour. Hercules was coloured!

It was about this time that the Breeding Manager took charge of me again. He started giving some new pills. They were different from from the blue anti-rejection ones that I had been given before being mated that last terrible time with Tiny. Horrified, I saw that they were red! Was I now again on a course of fertility pills? Now what was Raisa planning for me, her breeding slave?

I did not have to wait for to find out.

I had noticed several little dwarfs in the cages further down the line from mine and, with a sickening feeling, I now remembered that Dhana had told me in the harem that the Princess was interested in breeding both dogs and dwarfs.

In the harem I had often been amused by the little dwarf eunuch and had been told that dwarfs were very popular in the households of the very rich in the Middle East. The problem was, however, getting hold of one. They were in short supply, and so very valuable.

I had laughed at the time. But now suddenly it seemed no laughing matter.

Indeed that very evening Raisa had told me, "Yes, Hercules may have to wear a dog skin and mask, to hide his hideous birth marks. But those marks probably saved him from being castrated. Most male dwarfs are castrated so that they can safely run around their owner's harem, so an uncut dwarf like Hercules is a valuable commodity."

Hideous birth marks - so that was why poor Hercules was kept in a dog skin!

"Anyway," went on Raisa, "he now belongs to me and under his dog mask and dog skin he is a genuine dwarf, but a coloured one, probably a quadroon. It's this that makes breeding from him from a problem, for black dwarfs are not as valuable as white ones."

So Hercules is a quadroon, I thought, remembering his coffee coloured manhood.

"Hercules," continued Raisa, "has successfully sired baby dwarfs from negresses - it would be far too dangerous, of course, to try and cross him with a female dwarf, for baby dwarfs are quite big when born, especially their heads. Luckily the dwarf genes are so strong that, even when crossed with a normal woman, the resulting progeny is usually a pure dwarf and most of Hercules' have certainly been."

Raisa paused. I wondered why she was bothering to tell me all this. I soon learned.

"But there is much more demand for white, or near white, dwarfs - and that is where, my little breeding slave, you come in!"

Dwarfs! I was horrified.

"Yes! You've already produced a lovely little litter of puppies for you Mistress and they're now going to taken away from you and weaned. So you're now about to be available again for breeding! I'd love you to have another litter of puppies but, alas, Tiny has had to be returned to his owner. So, I'm going to mate you with Hercules, to produce a valuable litter of near white prize dwarfs for me to sell instead of another litter of pedigree puppies. I expect you'll make me just as much money!"

"No! No!" I wanted to scream - just as I had when my Mistress had told me about the puppies I was to produce for her.

"You may have noticed that you've been on a course of fertility pills for several weeks now and the Breeding Keeper assures me that you are just at the right moment in your cycle to conceive. And sewn into his dog skin, Hercules has been unable to get at himself, so his testicles are really heavy now - heavy with seed for you! So there's every chance that you'll conceive twins, or perhaps even triplets. With your hips now nicely spread by your two earlier maternities, you should have no difficulty in safely carrying and delivering your new litter, for your Mistress. And with your breasts now capable of giving so much milk, you'll be able to feed all the dwarfs you can produce!"

She paused to let her words sink in.

"Several dwarf breeders have told me that they have had excellent results using European women and I've been waiting a long time to try Hercules out on one."

This time there was to be no spectacular mating in the palace. Instead, when the Breeding Keeper assured Raisa that I was ready, I was simply strapped down over a bench in my cage, still sewn into my dog skin. My buttocks were raised high in the air and my hands and ankles fastened to the legs of the bench.

Raisa and her friends arrived and were comfortably seated under the sun screens. Little cups of iced orange juice were served to them. Then I was given the usual warming-up thrashing until the Breeding Keeper was satisfied with my shame-making wetness.

Then Hercules was brought into my cage. First, he was brought to stand by me head. The Breeding Keeper applied his cane to my bare buttocks to make me lick Hercules manhood, as it emerged, aroused, from it's hairy sheath. Oh the shame of having to this in front of applauding audience!

When the Keeper was satisfied, he led Hercules behind me. I felt him part my beauty lips and then thrust Hercules's manhood into me.

A moment later it was all over and I could feel the dwarf seed running up inside me. I was then given the usual Post-Mating caning to increase the chance of conception and was left for several hours tied down with my buttocks still raised to prevent any of the precious seed from running out.

The same scene was repeated the following two days.

A couple of weeks later, on the same day that the Breeding Keeper reported to Raisa that Oslo was in whelp following her visit to her father's harem, he also reported that I too was in whelp again.

Two weeks later we knelt side by side in the Veterinary Surgeon's laboratory. He ran his scan over us both.

Raisa clapped her hands in delight as the screen showed that Oslo was carrying twin girls.

She was even more excited when it showed that I was carrying triplet dwarfs.

24 - UNDER THE HEEL OF ALYSHA

Oslo and I spent several months in our Mistress' kennels, during which time our bellies swelled under our dog skins, giving us the look of real brood bitches.

We were made to show off our state and to take part in many erotic displays in the palace, as Oslo, like me before her, learned the pangs and pains of being in whelp, whilst still sewn inside the skin of a dog.

Once again our deliveries were deliberately delayed and we were both kept helpless on our backs as our bellies swelled yet more. Finally, Oslo was allowed to drop her two little twin girls and, as part of the same performance, I dropped my three little baby dwarfs.

Neither of us were allowed to see or touch our progeny which were immediately taken away to reared in other part of the menagerie.

Oslo did not, unlike I had, the painful privilege of being forced to feed any puppies. Nevertheless, she was instead, by order of our Mistress, milked daily with her offering being intended for the breakfast of her Mistress, and of her Master.

Indeed, every day, morning and evening, she was milked by her negro Keeper, just like a cow or goat. Since her hands were imprisoned inside her heavy rubber paws, there was nothing she could do, except to submit to this degrading treatment.

I was allowed to taste her milk, too, lapping it up from a bowl on the floor, in the presence of my horribly humiliated fellow bitch, and under the sardonic gaze of our Mistress!

Suddenly we heard momentous news.

The Princess, our Mistress, was being married off to a rich Prince from a neighbouring state. It was a political marriage to cement relations between the two ruling families.

There was to be a splendid feast to celebrate the marriage and we were to perform at it. s to a rich prince from a neighbouring state. It was a political marriage to cement relations between the two ruling families.

We were trained together as performing dogs and made to put on a new display. We had a new negro trainer who was determined to show off his skill as an animal trainer.

For several weeks before Raisa's farewell party we had been put through a complicated routine and severely punished for the slightest mistake, so that, when we finally trotted into the little arena, we were trembling with fear and could not take our eyes off the lash of his long circus whip.

Luckily, it all went off very well. We jumped through burning hoops of paper. We balanced balloons on our noses and threw them to each other. We jumped over little hurdles side by side. We sat up on hour hind legs on little stools. We assumed all sort of positions that were both exciting for the guests, and degrading for us. We were made to lick each other and, as a grand finale, had to make each other climax, under the orders of our negro trainer, kneeling on all fours, head to tail, in front of the guests.

It had been an utterly shame-making performance.

I also saw two little girl-bitches, sewn into dog skins and made to perform like happy little puppies. They two were made to perform little tricks. Were they, I wondered, the little creatures, fathered by the Sheik, that had been my first progeny?

I could not make them out properly under their dog skins. Perhaps it was better for me to remain uncertain and just to watch them, coupled together on the same lead. At least they seemed to be amusing themselves greatly and did not look at all unhappy. On the contrary, they happily gambolled about just like real puppies.

I noticed two other tiny dog bitches, also sewn into dog skins. They looked like puppies that had only just been born. Could they, I wonder, be Oslo's recently born twins?

Then the larger pair were brought over, crawling on all fours, to kneel along side me. The newly born human puppies were then carried over and placed alongside Oslo. The Breeding Keeper bowed proudly and spoke to the guests in Arabic, pointing to the little human puppies and then to Oslo and myself.

Was she telling them of the Princess's success in breeding human girl bitches? The guests again applauded, looking at Raisa. The Breeding Keeper again bowed and Raisa blushed with pleasure.

Oslo and I had the honour of being present at the marriage. We were of course in our dog skins and masks and kept on all fours with our leads held by a watchful Ruth, the slave girl, her dog whip at the ready.

We were even allowed to follow the bride to her nuptial chamber, gripping with our teeth part of the long lace train of her wedding gown.

In her husband's country, neither slavery nor even indentured bondage existed officially. Moreover, although she was a passionate lesbian, she was making a marriage that had important diplomatic and financial implications for her father. So it was that heart-broken, she had to give up her interest in the menagerie, and in that part of it that was based on us - her human dogs.

We had, however, been more than recompensed when later that evening, our Mistress had come on from the party to visit us in our cages. She had patted and made a fuss of us.

Oh, if only then we had been allowed to speak! Oslo and I would have cried out: "Mistress, please don't leave us! Take us with you! We love you!"

On her departure Raisa handed us over to her great friend Alysha, the wife of the man I had thought was my own husband. She was certainly a very beautiful woman, but Oslo and I were frightened of her and were terrified at the idea of being under her control.

Our Mistress shed real tears at having to leave us. I must admit that my own tears were also genuine, as was my regret at losing her. I had completely forgotten, like the good little dog that I had become, all the cruelty and humiliation that she had inflicted on me. Evidently dogs, like human beings, have short memories!

Oslo's and my fears about what was going to happen in future were soon realised. For a month, it is true, we were left completely alone without even being taken out of our cages. How I longed to be able to console myself, through the wire fence, with my old friend Tiny.

The days that followed were very different, however.

As regards myself, it must be remembered that Alysha had regarded me as an enemy from the very beginning. She had, unknown to me, been betrothed to Faisal when he brought me from London to offer me as a slave girl to his powerful cousin, the Sheik, whilst letting me think that I was his wife.

My marriage did not count for anything in Arabia since it had not been consecrated in the Moslem manner. In any case, polygamy is normal there. But, nevertheless, in the eyes of Alysha the fact remained that I had considered myself, before her, the legitimate wife of her husband. She was convinced that I had shared his bed, and that it was he, and not the Sheik, who had really taken my virginity.

A woman like her could not forgive nor forget that.

Alysha had now been given the opportunity to get her revenge. It was not an opportunity that she was going to miss. I had no idea just what she was going to do to me to get her revenge, but I knew that she was planning something.

Perhaps it was to make her revenge even sweeter that she left us alone for a month or so without apparently showing any interest in us ... doubtless so as to let me think ... that nothing was going to happen after all.

Then, one day, she had me, still wearing my dog skin, brought to her by Ruth who held me, as usual, by a lead fastened to my collar. I, of course, was not allowed to speak but only to bark in the way that I had been trained to do. But that did not excuse me from having to listen to her voice as she outlined her intentions.

First of all, as she sprawled in a sort of throne-like chair, she ordered me to kiss and lick her feet as a sign of my submissiveness. I had to do this, but I did it without any show of enthusiasm.

My surly attitude did not escape her eyes, and she ordered Ruth to give me twenty strokes with her dog whip.

I had not been given such a thrashing for a long time, so it hurt terribly and my bottom showed the marks for a long time. I simply had no alternative but to submit and obey her, just as Raisa's whip had once made me submit to her. Indeed after such a whipping, I was soon desperately thrusting my tongue out through my face piece to lick her imperious little feet with my tongue ... And whilst I was busy with one foot, she thrust the other down onto my neck to keep me grovelling at her feet.

Then, she made me kneel up on my two hind legs and beg, whilst she spoke.

"Kelbai! You belong to me now. You belong to me and I can do what I like with you. As a little dog, you are now well trained. Although this pleases me from one point of view, since it means that you have been put into your proper place, nevertheless I really want you to be just my personal slave. I would then be able to enjoy the feeling that you were really in my clutches, that you accepted my complete power over you and my superior position. But I do not have the authority to change the decision that had been made about you by my all-powerful cousin, who with the backing of the law, had decreed that you are condemned to be a dog for the rest of your life."

She paused for a moment.

"However, I do intend to be served by you and I shall certainly enjoy beating your naked little bottom. I certainly can't forgive you for the harm you did to me when you were still a woman. So this is what I have decided to do, as your new Mistress."

I found myself listening, petrified, to every word.

"Although you will keep your dog skin, I'm going to arrange that you serve me as much as possible as a slave girl. This will enable me to settle my debt with you, and to pay you back for having tried to take my dear and loving husband away from me and monopolise him for yourself. I haven't yet had the opportunity to make you pay for all your wild ambitions, but, rest assured, the time will shortly come and I will get my own back - and with interest!"

Thinking ahead of all that awaited me, I bowed my head ... and I could not prevent my eyes from filling with tears.

"Stop snivelling!" cried Alysha. "I can't bear snivelling creatures! So don't forget that in future!" She paused.

"As you know, I'm not a great animal lover like my cousin Raisa, but I don't mind having them around me - provided they are well behaved. So, you see, you're lucky! And as you are trained as a performing dog, I should get more fun out of you than I would get from a normal dog. So, I intend to arrange matters so that as well as being my faithful little dog, you are also my submissive little slave girl ... So? I expect that makes you feel better?"

As I was rather taken aback by all this, the gesture of assent that she was awaiting did not arrive as quickly as she wanted. She lashed me suddenly across my exposed breasts with her dog whip. It hurt terribly.

"Yes ... Mistress," I whispered, utterly crushed.

"I require immediate obedience from you! Do you understand? You must always obey me at once! Otherwise ... you'll get the whip! Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress ... "

"So, in accordance with the sentence passed on you, you will remain a dog, but I shall temporarily allow you to use your hands again by taking off your front paws. But your wrists will always be chained! I shall often use you to help me make up and make myself beautiful. I shall enjoy being massaged, having my hair brushed, and dressed by a hybrid, with the head of a dog and the body of a woman! ... You have pretty breasts, as you know, and I like the look of them. I warn you, I shall amuse myself with them a lot!"

Again she paused for a moment, looking me up and down.

"And I shall also use you to wait on my husband and I at table - and to serve our guests - for I intend to take full advantage of your sophisticated European background. Then, when you have finished serving us - on your knees, of course - you will, without further orders, drop your role of maidservant and come and lie at my feet, until I order otherwise."

"Throughout the day," she went on, "I shall want you at my feet. I myself am not a lesbian and I'm not interested in being kissed or caressed by you. And you won't get any kisses from me! You will remain pure ... I shall use your tongue however, for my own personal hygiene, or for that of my husband, your Master! ... After we've made love, for instance, I shall use you to clean up and swallow the remains of his seed, mixed with my own juices ... So, won't you be spoilt! ... Now say 'Thank you'."

"Yes, Mistress ... thank you ... "

"And I shall also allow you to watch us make love ... I shall enjoy making you feel jealous ... I shall enjoy making you realise just what you missed when your honeymoon here was so suddenly interrupted!"

My new Mistress was very cruel to remind me all about that. She did so, doubtless, partly out of sheer spite, but also because she wanted to humiliate me even more.

I was overwhelmed by her harsh talk. I felt crushed. I was just left with no will of my own. I did not dare answer my Mistress back - or even cry.

So it was that under the very different regime of my new Mistress, I was often not taken back to my cage in the evening. Instead I would spend the night, or part of the night, with her and my new Master.

This was always an awful experience, for my well trained bitch's tongue would now be put to the harsh test of bringing my former husband to a sufficient state of arousal to enable him to penetrate his wife. Meanwhile to excite herself, she would be pinching my nipples. And later she would make a point of showing off to me the intensity of the delight that she had found in the arms of my own husband! Then, finally, she would contemptuously trample me underfoot.

It was then that she would give me the dreaded order to use my tongue to ensure the intimate hygiene of both husband and wife. As my Mistress knew only too well, it was this task above all else that really made me feel degraded and reduced to the level of a dog.

But her revenge was still not yet complete.

One day, I also had to wait on a rather sophisticated black couple who had been invited to dinner. I believe that he was the Ambassador of a leading African country.

The woman's sexual appetite had been aroused by the sight of my dog-like appearance, with only my exposed hands and buttocks, and my rouge tinted nipples and beauty lips, showing my real identity as a European woman. After dinner, she asked my Mistress if she could use me "to see how a European bitch can lick."

My Mistress laughed and willingly put me at her disposal, but first, as a precaution, slipped my thick rubber front paws back over my hands. The Negress took me into a bedroom where, deprived of the use of my hands, I was made to use, first, my tongue, and then my mouth, to caress her all over. She had a beautiful body but it was rather plump like that of so many middle-aged negresses.

Despite all the zeal and application that I put into my work, she was never satisfied, and used her whip the whole time to drive me to yet further efforts.

"Lick better than that, white woman!" she cried, lashing me with her cane. At last, after a terrible effort, I succeeded in making her climax. She became as wild during this as she had been when beating me!

Then she led me back to the room where the Master and Mistress were making coffee.

Horrified I then heard the black Ambassador himself, say that he, too, would like to get to know the white girl.

As my Mistress had made a great play of keeping me pure and frustrated, I did not think for one moment that she would agree. I was in fact much relieved for he was a fat, repulsive looking, middle-aged man.

To my horror and astonishment, however, my Mistress did agree. It was almost as if she had been expecting his request.

He, in turn, now led me out to the bedroom. I could hear the others still laughing and drinking their coffee. It was too awful.

But with him it was simpler and quicker than it had been with his wife. Having first made me kneel on all fours, like a dog, to lick and suck his enormous manhood which became as hard as black ebony, he then mounted me from behind and penetrated me roughly. I had to admit that after several months of frustration, since the departure of Raisa, the feeling of his manhood inside my stretched body lips, and his to-and-fro movements, soon made me begin to feel very excited.

When he climaxed, I felt a huge shiver penetrate my entire body. I could feel my body lips absorbing his hot seed which seemed to jet right up into the heart of my body.

Arrogant like all negroes, he triumphantly kicked me ahead of him as he went back into the living room, where my Mistress anxiously wanted to know whether he was satisfied, and which aspect of me he preferred, the bitch who had been trained to lick, or the submissive white woman.

Proud of his sexually athletic prowess, he replied that he had enjoyed both.

"The treatment given to the bitch," he added maliciously, "was so successful and my penetration was so deep and complete that ... if she is ready to conceive and if no precautions are taken ... then I guarantee she will become well and truly pregnant!"

This statement made everyone burst out laughing. Alysha made a great play of sending for my Keeper for confirmation that I was indeed in the period of my monthly cycle when I was most likely to conceive. It was terrible having to listen to them discussing me in this callous way. I wanted to scream out that I must be douched quickly to prevent anything happening. But I did not dare do so.

Indeed they made several large bets on whether I would become pregnant and, if so, what colour and sex the progeny would be.

This, I suddenly realised, was the great revenge that my Mistress had sworn to take on me. To have me taken by a Negro and to have to carry his child! She had especially invited her black guests on the day when I was most likely to conceive!

Even worse, she had, unknown to me, instructed my Keeper to give me another course of special fertility pills to make sure that the negro's seed really did take, as she put it.

She even placed a large bet on me having twins.

Even worse, I had the humiliation of hearing it being agreed that if the negro had succeeded, then the first born, whether it was a boy or a girl, it would belong to the father who would make it one of his slaves.

I was red with shame under my dog's head.

I had plenty of time later on to think back on this day, for not only was I indeed pregnant, but I brought into the world a little girl, who was entirely black - thereby winning several large bets for my Mistress.

She had enjoyed making me bear a black man's child, knowing that I hated it. Now, she made me kiss her, through the mask on my dog's head. She even had my front paw was taken off so that I could hold her properly in my hands and hold her to my breasts. She had several photographs taken of the little black creature sucking at my white breasts.

Then, having cruelly aroused my maternal feelings, a few days later she had her taken away. I never saw her again. I cried for night after night for my lost little black baby - much to Alysha's delight.

But my Mistress's revenge did not finish there.

Remembering how I had been previously made to raise and feed two puppies after giving birth to the twins, my Mistress gave instructions to my black Keeper that I was to be kept in milk for as long as possible for the benefit of herself and her husband.

They would squeeze my nipples to provide milk for their cups of coffee, or for their bowls of cereal at breakfast time, leaving Ruth to complete my milking so that fresh yoghurt could be made for them from my milk.

I had to kneel up on my hind legs, like a dog begging, and present my swollen breasts to he milked by my Master and Mistress - or by their Jewish slave-girl.

My degradation was complete ... but so, too, was Alysha's revenge!

25 - SOLD!

Alysha herself was now pregnant. The future arrival into the world of her heir claimed all her attention. I was therefore left alone in the kennels - until, that is, the day when she came to my cage accompanied by two white women.

One was a tall blond, rather striking looking, woman of about 45, with piercing blue eyes and speaking English with a German accent. Her name, I learnt, was Ingrid. The other was a petite and equally beautiful, dark haired woman. She was rather younger and had lively and sensuous brown eyes, and spoke English with a American soft Southern drawl. Her name was Betty-Jane.

Both women were slim and wore riding breeches and boots. They both carried a riding whip, and wore thin open necked, high collared shirts through which could be seen the outline of their small, almost boyishly firm breasts.

They were evidently close friends, laughing and talking away to each other. They both looked highly intelligent with strong personalities. They also both looked very sexually aware. I guessed that they were both lesbians.

I felt very embarrassed at being seen in my dog skin and chained in my cage by these two sophisticated Western women. They were pointing at me and evidently discussing what little they could see of me.

"Yes," I heard the German woman, Ingrid, say, "she might be suitable for our purposes. Can we have a closer look - and without that dog skin?"

My collar chain was unlocked and replaced by a long lead, like a lungeing rein used when schooling a horse. I was led out of the cage. My dog skin was taken off. I could hardly believe it - for the first for a long time I was standing in public stark naked. I felt even more embarrassed. My Keeper held me tightly by my lead.

Then my head piece was removed, revealing my face and my shaven head.

"My, my! We've sure got us a pretty little creature here," drawled Betty-Jane. "And its legs look really strong, which is the vital thing."

"And I like this," said Ingrid with a chuckle, running her hand over my smooth head. "But let's see how she moves."

My Keeper began to trot me up and down in front of them, whilst they watched me closely, paying particular attention to the action of my legs and discussing it amongst themselves.

Then, encouraged by my Keepers's long whip as he held the lungeing rein in his other hand, I was made to run round and round him in a large circle, first one way and then the other. I heard the American woman Betty-Jane call out to the Keeper to make me run faster.

The whip cracked terrifyingly close to my buttocks. I shot forward. It cracked again, and I ran as fast as I could. Soon I was blowing and stumbling along out of breath. They had me halted and came over to inspect me. My breasts were rising and falling rapidly from my exertions. Then before I could get my breath back properly, Betty-Jane told the Keeper to make me run round again.

"Yes! Make her really step out!" added Ingrid harshly. The Keeper's whip cracked behind me. Terrified, once again, I forced myself round and round, whilst the two women watched.

Then at last I was halted and allowed to get my breath back, whilst the two women, like judges assessing conformation at a horse show, slowly walked round me. bending down to run their hands over my buttocks and down my thighs. Finally they nodded to the Keeper who made me get up on a table and kneel on all fours.

The two women began to feel me over. They felt my breasts and belly, and then standing behind me each in turn parted my body lips and tickled my beauty bud.

"We just want to see how she reacts," explained Betty-Jane to Alysha. To my further embarrassment I could feel myself beginning to become wildly aroused under their evidently very experienced hands.

Ingrid began to probe up inside me. "She's quite loose. How many offspring did you say she had had?"

"First half Arab twin girls, then a litter of puppies, then dwarf triplets and finally a mulatto girl," replied Alysha proudly. "She's a really good breeder! She was started nice and youngg and has got plenty of breeding years ahead of her still."

"Interesting!" replied Ingrid from behind me, her finger still feeling up inside me.

"And she was a good milker," added Alysha.

"Yes, I am sure of that," said Betty-Jane as she felt my still elongated nipples.

"And a well trained licker!" laughed Alysha. "Get her to lick the palms of your hands."

"Indeed!" said Betty-Jane a few moments later, her eyes glinting with pleasure. "Come and feel this, Ingrid!"

Soon I was licking my own juices off the hand of Ingrid.

"Yes, we'd certainly have fun with this one," she said. "What sort of special training and experience has she had?

Then in front of me Alysha described the unusual way in which I had been trained by her sister-in-law as both a bitch and a white lesbian serving girl. She also described how I had been regularly put each month to a Great Dane and and kept frustrated for the rest of the time.

Hearing all this had an immediate effect on the two women. Their eyes glistened. They looked at each knowingly.

"I think," murmured Ingrid, "that she may be just what we are looking for. What do you think, Betty-Jane?"

"Well. I guess she'd give us both a lot of pleasure - and look fine in the traces of a four-in-hand," the the American woman replied enigmatically. I just did not understand what she meant

"Yes, I think we might take her," said Ingrid thoughtfully. She turned to Alysha. "But you'll have to halve your asking price. After all, she's no longer an innocent young virgin, and she's not much use to you!"

Alysha's glinted. "All right!" she smiled, evidently keen to see the back of me..

"Fine!" smiled Ingrid. "But have her put her back into the dog skin and head piece for the journey."

I had been sold, sold like a horse. My Mistress, Alysha, having got her revenge on me by mating me with a negro and making me carry his child, had now no more use for me.

The next morning, I was carefully washed and brushed, my head was shaved and my body lips checked for any sign of hair. The special burning ointment was rubbed into my bald head to kill any little hairs that might have started to regrow. My head was polished with saddle soap to make it shine even more. Once again I was dressed in my dog skin and head piece, and my muzzle was pit on.

When my new Mistresses came to collect me, I had a most agreeable surprise. Oslo was also ready to leave. The two women had bought us both!

I had not seen Oslo since the last party, just before the sad departure of our Mistress Raisa.

Oslo and I had established a working relationship, and had even become friends - to the extent that dogs, whose only method of communication is barking, can do so. Certainly, we no longer sought to harm each other.

Our sudden separation, following the departure of our Mistress Raisa had also helped this reconciliation. How we missed each other!

I, of course, had been made to attend on Alysha and her husband, my own former husband. Meanwhile Oslo had, rather strangely, been put at the disposition of the women of the harem, and in particular of the current favourites, to entertain and amuse them.

Later, she told me that at night she had usually been put back in her cage, unless a favourite wanted to use her for an erotic, and capricious, nocturnal orgy. But during the daytime, she had been the plaything of all the girls in the harem, but always under the strict supervision of Marak, the huge and terrifying chief black eunuch.

Some of the girls had been kind and affectionate, but generally she had to put up with the worst kind of bullying. However, she had certainly acquired an excellent sexual and lesbian training and in particular her tongue had become almost as agile as that of a real dog.

Marak had seen to that!

Indeed, Marak would personally check out her progress daily, making her perform before him with another girl of his choosing. Then, to her great humiliation, the Negro would periodically bend down and part her partner's beauty lips to feel for himself both the efficacy of her tongue and the state of arousal it was inducing in the other girl.

In this way, he would check her outwardly enthusiastic, if inwardly reluctant, performance. He treated her just as any other performing animal that might have been taught to perform tricks to words of command - by a mixture of punishments and rewards.

As for punishments, not only was she terrified of his dog whip which he used to drive her on and on, but also she would only be fed that day, if he had been satisfied with her zeal and application. As regards rewards, the cunning negro, experienced in the sensuousness of young women, would tell the other girls that under no circumstances were they to make the little bitch herself reach a climax, except with his express prior approval - a special treat which was only allowed when she had really impressed him with her submissiveness and with the adroitness of her tongue.

To be made to practise the arts of lesbianism with a variety of strange Arab and other girls was bad enough for this sensitive and relatively innocent European girl. To have to display, and repeatedly rehearse, her aptitude in front of a huge and frightening, but grinning, negro was utterly degrading.

Yet, even more to her shame, and to her surprise, she has also found that her most secret desires were being increasingly satisfied by these humiliating experiences.

Indeed, she became a convinced masochist, something which Marak had intended, and which I could well understand. Like me, she began to find a deep and strong release in the strict discipline with which she was treated.

So it was that we found ourselves sold like slaves or animals, together with our 'trousseau' of spare dog skins and head pieces, and coupled together on the same lead, awaiting for our new Mistresses to take delivery of us.

They made a most striking pair as they slowly walked up to the line of cages, outside which we had been tethered, both wearing a light white suit.

With them was the business manager of our Lord and Master, the Sheik. In exchange for their cheques, I heard him explain, he would hand over to them our Arabic Articles of Indenture, which we had freely and unknowingly signed, and which showed that in accordance with the local law we were bound for the rest of our lives to whoever the Articles had been legally assigned, in 'recognition of the costs incurred in bringing us to Arabia and then of feeding and training us.'

She also heard that Oslo had been bred from once and had been given a strict but thorough lesbian training by Marak in the harem. Listening, I realised why Alysha had so cruelly sent Oslo to the harem for further training by Marak. It was merely to get better price for her!

Both women were clearly aroused by being told this. Their eyes brightened and their nostrils dilated with desire like tigresses scenting a nearby prey on which they were about to feast!

They proceeded to feel us all over through our dog skins and to check that there was no sign of any hair around our body lips. Satisfied, Ingrid put a metal collar round each of our necks and closed it with a small padlock, the key of which remained attached to her own wrist. As she bent over each of us in turn to fasten the padlock, we could smell through our face pieces her expensive scent.

Our new collars were engraved with our names, Kelbai and Oslo, and had an enamel plaque on which was written 'Frau Ingrid von Manenstein, Manenstein Estate, Hudra - handsome reward paid for return of this indentured servant.' There was also some Arabic script, presumably repeating the same address and offer of a reward. Hudra was a nearby country, the other side of the Gulf. It was thus that we learnt of the name of our new owner and of our new destination.

In the large limousine which took us to the town, Oslo and I had to lie on the floor whilst she rested her feet on us, inviting Betty-Jane, sitting alongside her, to do the same. Arriving at a remote and isolated part of the port, the car stopped by a motorised dhow. We saw two packages, one marked "Kelbai" and the other "Oslo", being loaded onto the dhow. They contained, I realised, our respective trousseaus, which she had bought, along with us.

Our Mistresses had come by air, but were returning secretly by sea with her new purchases. The skipper of the dhow, whom they had specially hired on the recommendation of the Sheik, courteously invited them to use his cabin in the raised poop. But Oslo and I were merely chained on all fours to the mast, under the mocking and amused eyes of the half dozen crew.

I had become used to being treated as a slave during the past few years, and was thus, used to suffering all sorts of humiliations. I must, however, say that to be fastened to the mast of a small vessel and exposed to the jeers and sarcastic remarks of the crew, in a language which I did not understand, was awful.

Even worse, they would come up to us, and, under the pretext of merely stroking us, they would take advantage of our inability to defend ourselves, and feel our breasts and body lips ... I must admit that the rough hands of these sailors, which they used in a far from delicate manner, aroused in me the strong feelings that so many females simply cannot repress when touched by an equally aroused male.

What was even more shame-making, was that, now thoroughly aroused, I could not stop myself from climaxing in front of them. I shall never forget the shining and triumphant eyes of one handsome young sailor, as he withdrew his hand from my hot body lips, and showed his now dripping fingers to his mates. Meanwhile I made little cries of excitement and frustration through my mask as I desperately, but silently, waited for him to replace his hand!

The crossing was uneventful, except for the sailors who one after another played with us, without daring to satisfy, however, the desires that our presence had aroused in them - as was clearly shown under their light robes. They simply contented themselves with the curious and erotic sight that we made, chained to the mast like animals, as we repeatedly succumbed to their touches.

Order was restored when land was sighted to port, and when our Mistresses reappeared on deck.

Finally we came alongside an isolated quay on which a small group of men awaited us. Ingrid pointed to us with her whip and gave several orders to the man who seemed to be in charge. Everything seemed to have been planned. One man climbed up on board and taking our lead, made us disembark. Others went off and returned with several Landrovers, one of which, clearly intended for us, had a sort of cage built on the back, into which we were lifted up - having first, by order of our Mistress, been made to do our business. To have to do this, on the quay, in front of all these men was terribly humiliating for us - even after all that we had had to put up with on the dhow. But it had been almost equally humiliating to be passed from one group of men to another with no more ado than if we had been a couple of real animals.

The driver of our Landrover and his mate never stopped chattering away throughout the journey, turning their heads from time to time, to glance at us with the contempt that all Moslems regard a Christian, or 'Roumi'.

The little caravan, led by our Mistresses, set off along a sandy track. It was about four in the afternoon, and we drove, bumping and jolting along, until it was almost dark, when we came on a small oasis in the middle of the desert. It was here that we were to make camp for the night.

Our lead was fastened to a long cord tied round a palm tree. The cord was long enough to allow us to stretch our legs a little, relieve ourselves and to rest whilst exchanging, for the first time, a few whispered words. They brought us two bowls, one containing drinking water and the other a sort of gruel made from barley and rice with a few lumps of mango floating in it.

We might have had to gulp it all, eating like animals from the same bowl, but nevertheless we were happy little animals, Oslo and I! Not only were we not beaten or maltreated, but we could also at last chat a little. Of course, we were very quiet and circumspect, for fear of the whip and of being separated again!

The servants threw some leaves down for us to lie on and lit fires. Still masked and wearing our dog skins, we fell asleep to the frightening cries of nearby jackals and hyenas which made us clasp each other all the more tightly.

Early next morning we were woken up, and put back into the cage at the back of the Landrover. All day we drove on, and in the evening made another halt, but this time in open desert.

That night I spent alone, locked up in the cage, whilst Oslo slept alongside our Mistresses after first being made to caress them and take part in their lesbian games. When she rejoined me the following morning her eyes were haggard - a clear indication of her nocturnal activity. Later, she told me that, doubtless in order to make better use of her, they had taken off her head piece and freed her hands. We both felt that this was a good augury for our future with these two women.

Another very tiring day followed, being jolted about in our travelling cage. We saw our Mistresses transfer to an open sports car and disappear ahead of us in a swirl of dust. A few hours later we arrived, exhausted, at our destination.

26 - STABLED!

Peering through the bars of our cage on the back of the Landrover, Oslo and I saw what seemed to be a vast plantation. Coffee coloured women, apparently Indian, almost naked, worked at what seemed to be picking cotton, under the supervision of burly negroes carrying whips, which they periodically cracked menacingly or brought down across the back of an idle woman.

I knew that numerous Indian and Sri Lank workers had been brought to this area in recent years as indentured servants, to do the hard manual work that the proud, and now wealthy, Arabs would not themselves stoop to do.

The whole scene reminded me of pictures of life on plantations in the Southern states of America before the Civil War. Was that what had attracted Betty-Jane here? Had she and Ingrid used their obviously considerable wealth to establish a modern slave plantation in this remote part of the world?

I gave a shiver. Were these indentured servants as helpless as I was?

The principal house looked very modern, comfortable and roomy, but there was no opportunity to see inside it. It was surrounded by rows of more primitive buildings which presumably housed the indentured servants of the plantation, and which reminded me, once again, of pictures of the slaves' quarters on a Southern plantation.

Then the Landrover drove under a clock tower and into a typical stables courtyard. Through the open doors on one side of the square I saw rows of loose boxes for horses with bars above the kicking boards. I saw horses, beautifully groomed horses, being fed and watered by Arab grooms.

Along the far side of the square was a line of shelters containing straw and bins for the horse feed.

In the centre of the courtyard was a sandy exercise area or menage with a chestnut coloured horse being exercised on a lunge by a groom. Shocked, I realised the similarity to the way that I too had been shown off to my Mistresses on the lunging rein.

The Landrover came to a stop on the far side of the square. It seemed very similar with a row of loose boxes visible through the open doors. But instead of the grooms being Arabs, they were negroes.

As if they had been expecting us, several of the negroes ran up to the Landrover. They said something laughingly to the driver and his companion, pointing at the cage containing the exhausted Oslo and myself.

Then suddenly the cage door was unlocked and we were dragged out, and frog marched into the stables and down the corridor in front of the loose boxes. There was a familiar animal smell.

Horrified, I saw that peering at us over the high kicking boards of several of the loose boxes, were the faces of pretty young Indian women. Their heads seemed to be covered in leather straps with a sort of gag that stopped them from calling out.

Then, whilst Oslo was being thrust into an empty loose box, I saw to my astonishment that the straps formed a cleverly designed human bridle.

From the back of the neck a strap went over the head and down the forehead to the top of the nose. Here it divided into two cheek straps, each of which ended in a large ring near the corner of the mouth. From each of these two rings a strap went down under the chin where it was fastened tightly to the other one to form a chin strap that held the big rings in place. To hold the whole bridle together another strap went from each ring to the back of the neck where they met and were tightly buckled to the bottom of the strap that went over the head.

But that was not all, for attached to the rings was a long rubber bit which forced the girl's lips back. Threaded through the bit was a large rubber ball which made the girl keep her mouth open, thereby reducing her to silence.

A further refinement was that two straps hung down from the strap going over the top of the head. Each of these ran just in front the ears, again to be fastened to the rings. And fastened to each of these straps, level with the eyes, was a large square shaped piece of stiff leather, like a race horse's blinkers. These prevented the girl from seeing anything that was not immediately in front of her.

All that was missing were reins, but I could see that if these were also attached to the big rings then the comparison of this bridle with that of a real horse would be complete. I gasped with the sheer ingenuity of it all, but I did not understand the reason for it.

Then I saw that fastened round each girl's neck, below the bridle, was a collar just like the ones that Ingrid had locked onto Oslo and me. And running from a ring at the back of each girl's collar was a light chain, the other end of which was fastened to a ring set in the far wall of the loose box.

But this was not the only precaution taken to prevent a human filly from escaping from her loose box. The bars in the loose boxes for the horses on the other side of the square only went up a few feet above the high kicking board - just high enough to prevent a horse from reaching forward to bite the horse in the next door loose box, or to take a nip at a horse being led down the corridor. But in the loose boxes for these human fillies and mares, the bars went right up to the ceiling - effectively making each box a cage.

Shocked, I noticed that the inmates of two of the boxes were not girls, but young Indian men, one quite light skinned and one almost coal black. I could not help noticing their long manhoods which hardly hid their big scrotums. Unlike the girls, I saw that the wrists of the young men were fastened by a short chain to their collars. Was this why their testicles looked so large and heavy?

Why on earth, I wondered, were these youths also being treated as if they were ponies or horses?

Before I could begin to find an answer, I, in turn, was pushed into am empty box. It was very much smaller than the cage in which I had been, kept in Raisa's menagerie.

Then, under the watchful eye of the head negro groom, whose name I was to learn was Gabu, and ignoring my protests, two other negro grooms pulled off my dog skins and head piece. As they did so, they exclaimed with delight, much to my shame, at the sight of my hairless body lips and shiny bald head.

Then they fastened one of those awful bridles onto me. First they forced the bit and its ball into my mouth and then slipping the bridle itself over my head, they fastened the straps. I felt that a rubber projection from the ball, like a short flat bar, pressing down on my tongue, rather like the muzzles that Raisa had used.

However, like many real horse bits, it would press painfully up against the roof of my mouth should the bit be slightly turned by being pulled by reins. I would, indeed, be as completely controlled by my bridle and bit as a real horse was by his.

I soon found myself champing on my bit, just like a real horse. Used as I was to wearing a muzzle, I found that this bit was not too uncomfortable or tight. But, as with Raisa's muzzle, I was quite unable to utter a word.

My face was now thrust down into a bucket of water. I was desperately thirsty after our long dusty trip, and I soon found that I could suck up water, despite the bit.

Then my head was pushed down into a similar bucket of wet warm porridge made from bran and oats - the sort of feed that one gives a horse after strenuous exercise. Not content with being stabled like a horse, was I going to be fed like one too? Did the horse feed bins I had seen in the yard serve both the real horses and ourselves?

My stomach revolted at the mess put in front of me. But my face was held down in it. I felt I was suffocating. Desperately I began to guzzle the horrible mixture up into my mouth.

At last I was allowed to stand. Gabu then produced a plastic syringe containing a sort of paste. It reminded me of the syringe's that I had seen being used to worm horses. I noticed the writing on the side of the syringe. It really was horse worming paste!

Suddenly my head was seized by the bridle and the end of the syringe was pushed into the corner of my mouth. With a grunt of satisfaction, Gabu squeezed the paste down in to the back of my throat, and then rubbed my neck to make me swallow it all. I had been wormed! Wormed like a horse! Just like a good groom will worm a newly bought horse on its arrival at its new master's stables ...

I now saw that the floor of the box was made of little cobble stones that sloped gently towards the front of the box. Horrified, once again, I saw that liquid wastes would trickle down between the cobble stones and run away under the gap below the kicking boards into the open drain in the corridor. Was this the reason for the animal smell?

A small pile of fresh straw in one back corner of the box would, I was told, later form my bed - spread over a small area of the stone floor. But the straw had to remained in the corner until it was dark and one of the grooms gave the signal by ringing a bell. A bell at dawn next morning was the signal for the straw to be carefully put back into the corner, and for the cobbled floor to be licked spotlessly clean.

A much smaller pile of straw in the other back corner was for receiving solid wastes and cleaning oneself. The wastes had to be left untouched so that they could be examined each morning, and recorded, by the negro grooms, after which they had to be pressed into the straw by the girl's bare feet, before the dirty straw was removed to be used as fertiliser on the plantation.

I, originally a cultured English girl, was appalled to be told all this by a brutish uneducated negro. It had been bad enough being treated like a dog in the Sheik's menagerie, but this seemed even worse. I tried to close my ears to the Head Groom's instructions. But seeing my inattention, he started to punctuate each of his words with a sharp tap from his dog whip. I soon found myself listening very carefully.

At last I was left alone in the box. The grooms closed the door from the outside. There was no handle on the inside. I was shut in - quite apart from the strong looking bars and the chain that now ran from my collar to the back wall.

Quickly I tried to tear off the bridle and to pull the bit out of my mouth. But a small padlock at the back of my neck held it all tightly in place.

I stood on tip-toe to peer over the wooden kicking board on one side of my box. A terrified looking Oslo looked back at me, expressionless, her mouth, too, held wide open by a large rubber ball. Only a little wrinkling around her eyes showed that she was trying to smile back at me. She, too, was now stark naked. She too was chained my the neck to a ring at the back of her box.

I went over to the other side. and peered into the next door box.

A very pretty naked Indian girl was sitting on the bare cobbles looking into a metal mirror fastened to the side of her box and combing her long hair, which hung down, beneath her bridle, over her shoulders. Bitterly I reflected that because of my shaven head the negro grooms had not bothered to give me a comb or to fasten a mirror to the side of my box.

She she saw me and, startled, turned and rose to her feet. Her neck chain tinkled with the sudden movement.

There was something strange about her.

Appalled, I saw that she had no body lips. No body lips at all! Instead of the plump young lips that one would have expected, there was just a long thin faint scar, that ran down between her legs and ended in a little puckered orifice.

She had been circumcised! Fully circumcised!

When I was in the Sheik's harem, I had heard talk, in hushed horrified tones, of this operation. I had learnt that it was done as a matter of course to millions of little black girls in North Africa. It was a way of the male asserting his supremacy by removing the cause of sensuousness and promiscuousness in a woman. But this girl was Indian, not a Negress from Africa. Had this operation been done to her here? My God!

I remembered that one of the girls in the harem had had her beauty bud snipped off by the black eunuchs as a punishment for over self indulgence. I remembered also my horror at the way Raisa had casually considered having the same little operation done to me so that I would be more like a real bitch.

But I now saw that full circumcision was a very different matter. I had heard of how, not only was the beauty bud itself removed, but also the lips, which were then sewn together so that they healed over, leaving just a scar. Shocked, I had learnt how the poor girl's legs would be kept tied together until the scar had formed.

I had heard that a little puckered orifice was left low down to enable the woman to pass water and for the manhood of a man, or the dildo of a woman, to penetrate her. More to the point, I knew, the very tightness of this orifice would give a Master increased physical pleasure, whilst, for both Masters and Mistresses, the knowledge that the woman writhing underneath them could only receive pleasure when she was penetrated, greatly increased their own cruel feeling of excitement and supremacy.

This was the first time I had seen the results of such a devastating operation.

Shocked, I noticed that the pretty girl's belly was slightly swollen. Was she slightly ... ? But if so, how would the child be born? Then I remembered hearing, with unbelieving horror, how, when the woman was ready to deliver her child, the scar would be slit open and then later allowed to heal over again, except, once again, for the little puckered orifice. Her Master's or, perhaps here, her Mistress's physical and mental pleasure could quickly be resumed.

How quite unbelievably awful and cruel it all was! Did my two new Mistresses get pleasure from controlling a woman's natural sensuousness in this way ... ?

The two of us stood looking at each other, our mouths held wide open by our bits and quite unable to say a word of womanly comfort to each other.

I saw the tall negro Head Groom, Gabu, look into my box.

"Yes, you have good look! Remember if I ever catch you playing with yourself," he said grimly, "you will be circumcised too. You make sure you keep all your energies for your Mistress' carriage!"

Appalled by the sheer brutality of his threat I turned and tottered away from the poor Indian girl. Anyway what did he mean? What carriage? Just what was the purpose of these stables? Was it a sort of harem of young women for our two Mistresses, composed of women chosen by them from their labour force? Presumably, the attraction for our Mistresses of Oslo and was that we were white indentured servants. Obviously we had hardly been bought at considerable cost merely to put to work in the fields. But why this awful and mysterious stables?

Mystified by it all, and emotionally exhausted, I sat down on the hard cobbled floor of my loose box and wept.

27 - THE SIX-IN-HAND

"Stand up! Legs apart in front of your Mistresses!"

It was the voice of Gabu, the negro Head Groom, the following morning ...

I had been awoken at dawn by the bell warning us to put back into the corner the meagre amount of straw that we were allowed for sleeping on. The doors of the loose boxes were now left open so that the passing grooms could check that we were busy at our morning tasks. With our collars still chained to the back walls, there was no chance of getting out of our boxes.

Seconds later I had had to start cleaning the floor of my box, slipping my tongue under the bit to polish it until it shone, and above all until there were no signs whatsoever of any of my wastes - nor of those of the previous incumbent of the box. With my vision severely curtailed by my blinkers, it was difficult work.

Gabu, his dog whip in his hand, had come and inspected my work, looking in every little corner for the slightest sign of dirt - and rewarding me with a sharp cut of his whip every time he found anything.

To my intense embarrassment he had then insisted on supervising what I had been told about the previous evening - the depositing of my solid wastes onto the straw in the other corner, making me do so in a standing position.

"Four legged fillies, drop wastes standing - and so do my two legged ones," he had shouted as I had started to squat down over the straw. Simple English was clearly the language of the stables - the only common tongue of the Indian women and the negro grooms. "You soon learn to keep yourself clean."

He had examined my offering, noting it all down carefully. Then he had stood over me whilst I had to tread it all into the straw, ready for another groom with a mucking-out barrow to remove the dirty straw.

Only now was I allowed a feed of the same wet warm bran and oats mash. Then I had been made to return to cleaning the now partly again dirtied floor with my tongue. It was a revolting task and one that I had almost finished, when I was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Gabu in the open doorway of my loose box, and his shouted instructions ...

Hastily I stood up. Quickly I parted my legs. I did not want to get another stroke from his vicious little dog whip.

"Clasp hands behind neck!" the bad tempered Head Groom was shouting. "Head Up! Bend knees! Show yourself to Mistresses!"

I blushed at the thought of how indeed I would now be showing myself off. Then as I held this shameful position, I saw through my blinkers the two Mistresses enter my box. They seemed even more beautiful and groomed than ever, and their well cut jodhpurs and open necked shirts contrasted vividly with my nakedness. They carried riding whips which they were impatiently tapping against the palm of their hands.

"Well, I guess being bridled like a filly suits this little creature even better than being dressed like a dog," I heard Betty-Jane say. I turned towards her with a smile.

"Keep head up!" shouted Gabu. "Eyes on wall! Bend knees more!"

"You must admit, darling, she sure does look rather sweet," I heard Betty-Jane add. I did not dare look at them as I strained to hold my awkward position, my eyes fixed straight ahead.

Ingrid gave a laugh. If Betty-Jane was the romantic one of the pair, then Ingrid was the practical one. "Gabu," she asked anxiously, "is she healthy?"

"Oh yes, Madame," replied Gabu in his broken English. "I worm her last. Today no sign anything wrong."

"Good!" said Ingrid. "I don't want these white girls bringing any infection into the stables."

"Can't we try them out?" asked Betty-Jane plaintively.

"Very well," replied Ingrid decisively. "Gabu, make the new fillies practice running in step this morning and then this evening we'll try them out properly with the two stallions. If it goes well, we'll try a sixer with the two special Indian girls as well."

"Oh, darling, what a brilliant idea! That's sure going to be so exciting ..."

"But keep these ones yoked," ordered Ingrid. "I want them to learn to pull with their bellies and hips and to prance properly, and not lean forward using their arms and shoulders."

They moved on to another box. Gabu motioned me to relax my position, and closed my box door, leaving me wondering what Ingrid had meant and just what was going to happen. I was soon to learn!

Shortly afterwards a pair of strong sandals was strapped onto my feet. They were fastened by a cord going round my ankles and up my calf. Evidently the black grooms did not want to risk me spraining an ankle.

Then I was taken out into the corridor where Oslo was already standing. Gabu produced a thick plank, like a yoke, some six feet long. It was hinged at one end so that it could be opened. There were two large holes in it, and two smaller ones on either side of each of the larger ones.

We were made to stand alongside each other. The yoke was opened and and then closed round our necks. We were now coffled together with our necks held in the large holes and our wrists held up helplessly on either side of our necks in the small holes. The yoke was held closed buy a small bolt at the opposite end to the hinge. The bolt was only inches away from one of my wrists, but of course I could not reach it.

We were then taken out into the stable yard and a long lungeing rein fastened to a ring at the back of the yoke.

"Now you learn trot in step, like real carriage horses - hackney horses. You raise knees high in air," said Gabu, cracking a long carriage whip just behind our naked bottoms. "Get knees up higher!"

Round and round the sandy arena we ran, learning to prance in step, an action that kept our heads up and made us slightly lean backwards. It was tiring, but we must have made a pretty and erotic sight.

After a time, perhaps because of the worming paste, I was highly embarrassed to feel a familiar feeling inside me. It became stronger and stronger. I wanted to cry out, to explain, to ask to stop - but my bit prevented me from uttering a word. My appealing looks only seemed to result in further cracking of the long carriage whip as we were made to go on trotting round and round.

I did not know what to do and the feeling was getting more and more urgent.

Horrified I had seen that bits of both human and horse wastes were mixed up with the sand. Now unable to hold myself back any longer, I too dropped my wastes whilst still trotting - just like a real horse.

Nothing was said. It was as if this was considered a quite natural event. Moments later poor Oslo, her eyes almost starting from her head in shame, did the same.

Soon, as we ran round and round, the wastes were trodden into the sand ...

At last Gabu was satisfied. We were taken, still coffled together in our yoke, to a horse trough full of water. A bucket of water was thrown over our sweating bodies. We were allowed to lower our heads together and drink from the trough, and as bent over to do so, we were cleaned with a sponge between the legs ...

We were now taken over to stand between the two shafts of what I was later to learn was a light training cart with big wheels. Wide leather straps, like a horses's girth strap, were fastened round our bellies. The straps each had a ring behind, in the small of our backs, and from this a light chain went back to the front of the cart. In the middle of each chain was a spring which opened or closed to show just how hard each of us was pulling.

A short strap on the outward side of each of our girths was fastened to the shafts. A breeching strap ran behind our buttocks to join the two shafts - clearly intended to enable us to hold the cart, with our buttocks, from running away when going down a steep hill.

Reins were attached to the rings at the corners of our mouths.

We were now harnessed helplessly and tightly to the cart.

Gabu got into the cart. He picked up the reins. I felt the projection to the bit painfully hit the roof of my mouth as he gave the reins a little jerk. I raised my head immediately. I would not want to risk another such jolt.

Gabu's whip cracked. He gave a the reins a slight jiggle. "Walk on!" he ordered.

We strained forward together, forced by the whip to push with our bellies to make the cart move, at first at a walk, and then once again at the prancing trot.

How I longed to to be able to use my hands, to ease the pull on my tummy, and to lean forward to use my shoulders to ease the strain. Bitterly I remembered Ingrid's instructions not to allow us to do so. Anyway with our hands held high by the awful yoke, there was no alternative but to use our stomachs to pull the cart along.

Gabu began to use the reins to steer us in a zigzag course between markers around the arena. If we ever got out of of step, or the wheels of the cart knocked over a marker, we got a slash across our buttocks. Soon we were getting quite proficient in our new role as carriage horses.

I was greatly relieved, however, when at last we were unharnessed from the cart. The yoke was unfastened and we were put back into our loose boxes.

We given a feed of the same warm porridge made from horse feed. It was surprisingly nutritious. Evidently, like real horse, we were to be fed 'a little and often'.

We were not allowed to use any of the bedding straw, but exhausted I just curled up on the bare cobble stones and dozed. I thought over the extraordinary training we had been given that morning and wondered what would happen when the our two Mistresses came for us in the evening.

It was getting cooler when Oslo and I, once again yoked together, were led out to a larger carriage with a hood over it to protect the driver and her companion from the sun or rain.

It had only one shaft, and I was astonished to see, harnessed on either side of it, the two Indian youths whom I had seen in the stables, where they were known as stallions, just as we were called fillies and mares.

Their wrists were still chained to their collars and a girth strap, just the one we had worn in the morning, went round their waists, with a chain leading from each of them back to rings in the front of the carriage. On the inside of their girths, a strap joined them to the shaft which in turn turned the front wheels of the carriage.

To enable them to hold the carriage when going down hill, a wooden bar projected from either side of the shaft just behind their naked buttocks.

Horrified I saw that the sight of our naked bodies, was arousing the manhoods of the two young men.

We were made to stand immediately in front of them. I could feel the hard manhood of the youth behind me, probing against my buttocks. It was awful. Then we were made to move slightly further forward and our own girth straps were put on. This time the chain behind was led back, not to the carriage itself, but to a ring on the front of the girth of the young man immediately behind us - who was in turn chained to the carriage.

In this way, the harder we ran away from the stallions. the harder we pulled the carriage. Driving this four in hand was therefore a matter of fine judgement and skill for a lady driver and her whip.

On the one hand she would be seeking the exhilaration of speed and would enjoy using her long carriage whip to drive all four human horses flat out along the dusty flat lanes of the large estate, as she completed her daily tour of inspection.

On the other hand, she would not want to tire her mixed team too quickly, and the stallions had greater stamina than us fillies ... It was this need for careful balance that made driving a human four-in-hand so fascinating for our Mistresses - especially when two of them were a matched pair of white women.

All this I slowly realised as our Mistresses drove us out for a first outing around the estate. It all became even more complex and fascinating for them when they returned to the stables and ordered two more women, Indian women yoked together like us, to be harnessed ahead of us, with their girth straps leading back to the ring on the front of our girth straps.

I was appalled at the callous way we were treated as dumb animals, but I was even more appalled when I saw that one of the women was my pretty pregnant neighbour. Indeed, as the negro grooms strapped the girths round round their swollen bellies, I saw that both women were clearly pregnant.

"Oh gee, this is really going to be something," I heard the excited Betty-Jane say. "Fancy driving three matched pairs: a couple of stallions, a couple of white fillies, and a couple of in-foal mares! Wow!"

It certainly was quite an experience for us too.

28 - PUT TO THE STALLION

It was nearly a month later.

I was kneeling at the foot of Ingrid's large bed. She was lying on the edge of it. My head was held clamped between her thighs. Her knees were raised. My tongue was on her beauty bud. It was held there by a short chain attached at one end to the ring on the front of my collar and at the other to a ring at the end of the bed. I could not raise my head properly.

"Down!" she ordered. Obediently I moved my face slightly down so that my cold wet nose was now rubbing against her beauty bud, whilst I strained to push my tongue deep inside her.

All she had to do to seek pleasure was to lie down on the bed and slip her legs down on either side of my face, and then apply her long dog whip to my naked back as the signal for me to start my ministrations. Looking down, as she lay back on the bed, all that she would see of me was my smooth shiny bald head, nodding up and down slightly between above her lower belly. I had to keep my eyes down and concentrate on the job in hand.

My bridle and bit had been removed on this occasion. On others it had sometimes been left on and just the bit removed. Sometimes not even that was not removed and I had to rub it against her beauty bud, and strain to push just the tip of my tongue out below the bit.

Sometimes I had to wear my dog head's piece, with my face completely covered except for the two little eyeholes, and the slit for my tongue. Ingrid enjoyed the feel of my realistic black dog's nose against her beauty bud, whilst my tongue moved round and round just below it. Doubtless the sight of my completely anonymous and realistic dog's head was also highly stimulating.

Oslo knelt alongside me, her chained head between Betty-Jane's thighs. Both women were crying out with pleasure. Lying as they were, alongside each other, they were able to kiss each other passionately as, driven on by their whips, we brought them closer and closer to a shattering climax.

Frequently they would exchange positions, enjoying the subtle difference between Oslo's attentions and mine - or more likely, simply enjoying the feel of two different young women held chained down for their pleasure ...

Every morning day we had been driven round the estate, sometimes as part of a four in hand, running on in with the two stallions, snorting with lust and desire, harnessed behind us.

Sometimes we were harnessed as a sixer, with the pregnant Indian girls prancing proudly in front of us, as, yoked like us, they were made to show off their swelling bellies. All six of us had to keep in perfect step and strain to pull the light carriage along faster and faster, urged on by our Mistresses' long carriage whip.

Although our blinkers prevented us from seeing which of our Mistresses was actually driving us, I could tell when it was Ingrid from the rather harsher feel of the reins on the bit in my mouth - and from the accurate way in which she used her whip to reach my quivering bottom whenever I slightly slacked off.

I was getting fitter and fitter and could now run fast for longer distances without becoming distressed or out of breath.

I was settling down to stable life and to the regime of 'regular and often small feeds', like those of a real horse. It was a regime that inevitably resulted in my wastes also being regular and often. Just as a horse, driven on my the stress of being ridden, often seems to want to dung shortly after being mounted, so I noticed that Oslo and I, driven by the stress of being harnessed, were also frequently overtaken by the same desire shortly after moving off. Having to do so, whilst still running at a smart trot, was horribly shame-making, for inevitably it was commented on by Betty-Jane.

"Oh look, Ingrid! Look what the filly's doing ..."

Every afternoon, the Mistresses would choose two of their fillies for their pleasure. Very often it was Oslo and I, for having with some difficulty acquired two pretty white women, our Mistresses were clearly determined to enjoy us - much to the jealous, if silent, anger of their Indian girls.

We would be washed and groomed, and our dog skins and head pieces put on. Then, muzzled, and running on all fours we would be taken on a lead to the big house to lie curled up under the table whilst our Mistresses enjoyed lunch - rubbing their feet periodically against our dog skins.

But this was merely a preliminary to being chained down, as I have described, to the foot of their bed - so as to provide them pleasure during the siesta hour. It was, however, an hour that frequently extended long into the evening. Often it was dark by the time we were sent back to the stables.

The next day I felt the imminent onset of my monthly phase. I longed to be able to say something to Gabu, to ask to be left behind in my box that day, and to ask for certain simple requisites. But, of course, all that was out of the question and as usual I was harnessed to the carriage for my Mistresses' usual daily tour of the estate.

The stress and exertion of being driven by the whip into running fast, whilst both also pulling the carriage and keeping my knees raised in the required prancing step, brought on what I had been dreading. I could feel and see blood trickling down my thighs.

My two Mistresses stopped the carriage to go and inspect the work in the fields. We were left standing, still harnessed to the carriage. I could smell the onset of my coming into season. I could not see behind me because of my blinkers, but I could feel feel the tip of the aroused manhood, of the snorting stallion behind me. I could smell his arousal, his animal-like response to my own state.

On their return, to my acute embarrassment, Betty-Jane pointed down at my belly and thighs.

"Oh look, Ingrid, the filly's come into season! And look how the stallion's getting so excited. It's a shame he can't have her ... Oh, darling, why don't we breed from her - when we bought her Alysha said she was a good breeder ... And we could simultaneously breed from Oslo too. It'll all be too exciting for words. Think of it, darling, two white girls prancing along side by side with identically swollen bellies! And, they'll still be able to kneel at the foot of our bed every afternoon - and think of the milk that will soon coming along!"

"But I don't want these fillies forming an emotional attachment with the sire of their foals," laughed Ingrid. "We bought them for ourselves!"

"Well, I guess if each was covered by both stallions, they'd never know which was the sire and would just go on hating them both."

"Well it's certainly something to think about," replied Ingrid. I noticed her eyes were gleaming. "We'll talk about it all later with Gabu."

I was horrified. I could see that Oslo was trembling with fear. But nothing more was said. I soon forgot all about it immersed as I was in the routine of the stables and the excitements of our visits to our Mistresses bedroom.

Gabu started to take and record my temperature twice a day, thrusting a well greased thermometer up me from behind. I wanted to ask why he was bothering to do this. I was obviously fit and well. It all seemed a little mysterious, especially when I saw him show Ingrid the graph of my temperatures and heard him whisper to Ingrid, "not long now!"

Then suddenly one day Gabu came into my loose box. He attached a short chain to my collar and started to lead me out of the box. Unable to speak, I just made a whinnying noise - as if to ask where we were going.

"We're going to have a little marriage," he said smiling mysteriously, as he led me out first into the corridor, and then, equally mysteriously, across the large stable yard to the building housing the line of horse boxes. Here we stopped outside an extra large horse box with an extra high roof. The kicking board was quite low and I could see into it.

I could also see across the box and through an open door into a small paddock. It was a beautiful young Arab mare - probably still a filly. She was evidently in season for the gelding in the paddock with her was worrying her in the the way, as I had heard whispered at school, that stud grooms used a gelding as a 'teaser' to get a mare ready to be covered by a real stallion.

I saw my Mistresses also watching as the filly was chased round and round by the 'teaser', occasionally standing provocatively with her tail raised. I saw Ingrid finally nod to the Head Arab Groom and, with Betty-Jane, turn towards the box and climb up into a little balcony, that looked down into it.

There, they sat down on comfortable chairs and helped themselves to a jug of what looked like cool fruit juice. I saw Betty-Jane pointing to me, as I was held by my groom, and then say something with a laugh to Ingrid.

The filly was led into the box and the door into the paddock closed. Two Arab grooms now held the filly's head collar, whilst another two fastened leather straps around her hind fetlocks from which two chains were led forward to a strap round her neck. The chains were tight, and I realised that they were Covering Chains that were used, I knew, to stop a nervous filly from kicking out at a stallion as he mounted her.

To help the grooms hold her they fastened a chain from her head collar to a ring set in the floor of the large box. Clearly the filly was about to be put to a stallion, but what had all that got to with me? Why was I being made to watch?

A gorgeous black Arab stallion was brought in. He was snorting as his nostrils caught the smell of the mare. It reminded me the behaviour of the human stallion harnessed behind me ten days before.

Then things all happened quickly. I saw the stallion's arousal. He went behind the mare and suddenly mounted her. It was all over in moments.

The stallion was led out, followed by the filly. I heard the noise of the doors of their loose boxes being slammed shut. I saw the head Arab groom nod to Gabu, his negro opposite number, and gesture to the large box as if inviting him to use it now.

"You now!" said Gabu grimly, as he propelled me into the box. I did not understand why, but I saw that both my Mistresses were looking down at me with curiously sparkling eyes.

A padded metal ring, about two feet high and four feet across was brought in and fastened with clamps to the cobbled floor of the large box around the big ring set in the floor. I was made to kneel on all fours with my belly resting on the ring. Then my collar was attached by a short chain to the ring, and so were my wrists. My knees were chained well apart.

I was now held helpless with my buttocks raised and wide open. All I could do was to kick with my ankles - but then even they were strapped to other little rings cleverly situated in the floor.

I thought back at the way the real filly had been held helplessly by her chains. My God! Was I about to be ... ? Oh, no!

The bit in my mouth in mouth was unstrapped. I could talk! It must be to make what was to follow all the more exciting for my Mistresses.

But just what was to follow?

Gabu came and stood behind me. He had a young negro boy with him. The boy was carrying a long ostrich feather. He began to draw it slowly up and down my exposed beauty lips. Then the boy reached forward and squeezed my nipples, before reaching down to tickle my beauty bud. He seemed remarkably expert for such a young boy. I could not help myself from becoming more and more aroused.

The boy resumed his ministrations with the ostrich feather. I was crying out with excitement. The role of the boy must be similar to that of the 'teaser' - to get a girl ready, ready for ...

"No! No!" I screamed aloud. I looked up beggingly at my Mistresses sitting comfortably in the balcony. "Please don't do this to me. Please!"

But they ignored my cries.

"Well, I do declare she's really getting ready for the stallion," I heard Betty-Jane laugh. How I hated her.

"Not just yet," said Ingrid cooly. "It's best to get the blood really racing."

I saw her gesture to Gabu. "Check her!" she ordered.

Horrified, I felt Gabu part my beauty lips, and feel the moisture.

"Nearly ready," he called up to the women on the balcony. "Shall I ... ?"

"Yes!" ordered Ingrid. "Twelve strokes. Nice and slowly. That should do the trick. And also make her look back at this moment with fear. And remember I don't want her to get any real pleasure from the stallion - any more than a real animal does."

Gabu went to the corner of the box and picked up a long whippy cane ... The next few minutes were awful. My screams and sobs echoed around the building as I begged and screamed for mercy, as I wriggled helplessly over the padded bar. I saw Betty-Jane gripping Ingrid's hand in a gesture of wild excitement. How I hated them both. But with each drawn out stroke I could feel myself becoming even more aroused than ever.

At last the twelve strokes were over. But I scarcely had time to recover, before the very black young Indian was brought in. He was the one who was harnessed right behind me in the carriage and whom I hated, and feared, the most. I screamed and screamed - much to the delight of the watching two women.

The youth's hands hands were fastened in front of him. I saw that the sight of my naked body, strapped down helplessly in front of him, was arousing him fast. He was made to kneel down on all fours behind me. Suddenly I felt his tongue between my legs. Held down as I was, I could not even close myself to them. I just had to accept being prepared.

Then he was made to kneel up. Unable to see behind me because of my blinkers, I felt Gabu part my lips again. Then he held them apart with one hand and I heard the man give a snort of pleasure as he deftly inserted the throbbing manhood into me.

I now understood the significance of the male 'horses' being kept unable to get at themselves for almost immediately he jetted into me.

It had been almost as fast as the performance of the real stallion minutes earlier and, as he withdrew, I was left with a feeling of mad frustration. I remembered what Ingrid had said about her not wanting me to get any real pleasure from a man. I certainly had not!

Then he was led away, his task performed. I was expecting to be unfastened and led away - like the real filly had been. But instead I was left chained over the padded bar, and the chain to my collar was shortened so that my head was kept down below my upthrust buttocks. I could feel the seed slipping deeper and deeper into me.

Piteously I looked up at the balcony. Piteously I begged my Mistresses, even at this last minute, to relent and order me to be washed out. But they just laughed, and ordered some little cakes to be brought to them.

Then suddenly the door to this mating box was opened, and in was led the other Indian youth, the lighter coloured one. And the whole process was repeated - including the nuptial beating.

I just could not believe that I really was to be covered again, until, with a sinking feeling, I remembered Betty-Jane's suggestion that we should be covered by both stallions so that we would never know which was the father of our child.

Then when the second Indian had been been taken away , and my Mistresses had left, I was left for a couple of hours bent over the padded ring.

"We want give seed good chance to catch!" laughed Gabu, "and if not catch today, then tomorrow." He shut the door of the box, leaving me alone with my thoughts and quite unable to get at myself to prevent conception.

The next day, still weeping from the shame of what had been done to me, I was taken out as usual to pull the carriage. Then, on our return I was washed down and taken, with Oslo, to our Mistresses' house to please them, I imagined, during their siesta.

As usual we were chained down by the neck to the foot of the bed. As usual our Mistresses took it turn to enjoy each of our little trained tongues, whilst they clamped our bridled heads between their thighs, exchanged passionate kisses and fondled each other's nipples. But any idea that either of us could relax would be instantly corrected by a smart tap on our back or buttocks from the long dog whip of the appropriate mistress.

But there was to be a change to the normal routine, for suddenly I heard a bell being rung by Ingrid, between whose thighs I was lying. I heard a door being opened. Ingrid's Indian maid was leading someone in. I heard footsteps behind me. It was a man! Horrified I wanted to turn round and look, but I was stopped by the combination of Ingrid's strong thighs, and the short chain fastened to my collar, both of which made me keep my head down.

But I heard the noise of a man kneeling down rather awkwardly behind me. Apparently he had been blindfolded, and his hands chained behind his back, to prevent him being carried away by the near naked presence of his two Mistresses.

Then, I felt a man's tongue on my proffered beauty lips - just as I had in the mating box. The more the tongue excited me, the more my tongue, in turn, excited Ingrid. Soon, she was crying out, I was crying out and familiar grunts were coming from behind me. It was the darker of the Indian youths!

I heard Ingrid snap her fingers. Her maid must have pulled his head back, and made him kneel up - just he had done in the mating box. I felt the maids hands part my beauty lips, again just as Gabu had done. And I felt his manhood being carefully inserted into me.

But then there was a big difference from what had happened the previous day when it had all been over almost within seconds. This time, Ingrid wanted to draw it all out, as she made me excite her whilst being in turn penetrated by the coal black Indian.

Not surprisingly, I could not help myself from becoming highly aroused, and several times the watching maid must have seen how things were, for she pulled him right back out of me. I would then be left to cool off slightly, whilst still being made by Ingrid's whip to go on exciting her. Then the Indian's manhood would be re-inserted and we would start again.

Finally the Indian maid must have warned Ingrid that he was about to climax, and the mere thought of this, on top of all my efforts, must have been enough to bring her to the boil. Meanwhile his violent movements had their inevitable effect on me, and all three of us climaxed together. Indeed the watching Betty-Jane was so excited as she watched it all, whilst Ingrid squeezed her breasts and Oslo administered to her beauty lips, that she too reached a juddering climax at the same time, crying out in her pleasure. Only poor Oslo was left out!

A quarter of an hour later, the whole process was repeated, this time with Betty-Jane clamping her thighs round my bald head, and the other Indian stallion penetrating me ...

A week later Gabu must have judged that Oslo was now ready. I saw her being taken across to the mating box, and the following day it was my turn to kneel down alongside Oslo at the foot of our Mistress's bed, whilst she was again taken first by one Indian youth and then by the other, whilst both of us were driven on to bring our cruel Mistresses to the very heights of ecstasy.

Life then went on as before. No mention was made of our covering by the two Indian youths. Gabu gave us some clever medicine which was, I think, intended to stop morning sickness - and thus delay our realisation that we were now well and truly pregnant. Indeed I felt fine, and having no access to calendars had no idea of the passing of time - or whether I was overdue. I just presumed that I had not conceived and was delighted not to have done so.

Then one afternoon, kneeling as I had so often done, at the foot of my Mistresses huge bed, my head clamped between Ingrid's thighs, I felt a sudden jolt in my tummy. I gave a start, and only a sharp crack across my back from Ingrid's long dog whip made me return to my work.

Moments later I felt another little kick. I gave a jerk. I heard Ingrid laugh. I felt another kick, which made me jump again. Oh God, I was pregnant! And my two Mistresses must have known for some time. I gave a sob of despair, as I continued desperately to apply my tongue to Ingrid's pleasure. But she had felt my jerks and jumps.

"I think," I heard her murmur to Betty-Jane, "that my little filly has just learned that she is in foal. How about yours?"

"Not yet, darling," came the reply, "but I guess it won't be long now. Oh I can't wait to see their bellies beginning to swell!"

She did not have to wait long.

29 - FREEDOM AND RECAPTURE

Several months later, rumours started to circulate about a revolution and a civil war.

Our Mistresses in their splendid isolation, refused to believe that it would ever reach their estate. Delighted by our now well swollen bellies, they just continued to use us to pull their carriages for their daily drives of inspection around the estate, and then later would still often choose us for their afternoon pleasures.

Both Oslo and I were getting increasingly heavy and awkward. Only fear of our Mistresses' whip kept us running fast as we strained at our traces, desperately trying, despite our swollen bellies, to maintain the high stepping prancing action that our Mistresses insisted on. But we both realised that the harsh stables routine and the hard physical exercise to which we were daily subjected, were resulting in a remarkably easy pregnancy, and would later probably enable us to give birth quickly.

Other than our girth straps being gradually let out as our bellies swelled, no concessions were made to our state either by our Mistresses as they drove us, or used us in their bedroom, or by Gabu as he supervised us in the stables. We were still kept bridled and bitted to prevent us from talking or asking about our state. Real fillies could not talk or ask questions about how soon their foals were due, and we could not either.

Our Mistresses were proved wrong in assuming that the war would pass us by. One fine morning a group of government soldiers came to warn them that the situation was serious and that the rebels were advancing towards us.

But even despite this official warning, our Mistresses decided to wait and see what would happen. Oslo and I were rather frightened. Often we would try and press against each other for protection and solace as we were yoked and harnessed to the carriage, or as we knelt alongside each other at the foot of our Mistresses' bed. Being in foal, as Gabu and the Mistresses insisted on calling it, made us even more nervous.

Then a few days later we heard machine guns and the occasional noise of heavy gunfire. Routed government troops fled across the estate. The Indian indentured servant estate workers took advantage of the chaos to escape.

Suddenly rebel soldiers appeared everywhere. They were astonished to find the human stables and even more astonished to find two pregnant white women chained up in it. They were even more astounded by the sight of our hairless beauty lips and bald heads, and by our bridles and bits.

Finally two of their officers arrived and ordered us an d the other human fillies and brood mares to be taken out out of our boxes.

"You are free now," we were told. "Under the new revolutionary regime, there will be no more foreign indentured servants. You are free to go!"

They helped us out of our bridles and gave us some old clothes to cover our nudity. We were now normal human beings again. Oslo and I fell into each other's arms, crying. But was it from joy, or from sadness at leaving our Mistresses?

But there still remained our collars, locked round our necks. The rebel troops had seized our Mistress. More haughty and proud than ever, Ingrid stopped them from forcing the locks and insisted on opening them herself with the key hanging from her wrist. Then, to the astonishment of the rebel troops, she kissed us goodbye. But as a well known supporter of the Government she was kept under arrest. We never heard what had happened to her or Betty-Jane.

Together with all the other foreign, and now freed, indentured servants on the estate we were put into trucks and taken to the coast to be repatriated.

The only baggage we had was some of our "trousseau" which we had managed to find. We had no money, no papers, and just a few rags to cover our nudity. We had no shoes which made it all the more difficult to walk. We were just crammed in amongst a stinking mass of poor wretches who scarcely understood what had happened.

Two days later, after an awful journey, we arrived at a port. There was no sign of any European consuls or any organisation to look after us. It was utter chaos.

Oslo, like me, had been an orphan before she had been kidnapped by the Mafia in Italy and then put on board a small tramp steamer, chained in a secret compartment at the bottom of the hull, taken to Arabia, delivered to a slave dealer and bought by Raisa.

Like me, therefore, she had nothing to go back to Europe for. Indeed, with no money, with our bodies prominently branded as slaves and having been used as breeding slaves, the chance of making a successful new start in our home countries, after all these years away, seemed bleak.

If only, we both said, we could find Raisa, again. She would know what we should do - and there was no civil war going on in her country.

We saw some Arab fishermen mending their nets before they set sail in their small fishing boat. They looked at us closely. We could not hide our brand marks from them, nor our pregnant state. They spoke a few words of English. We told them we wanted to go back to Arabia.

They spoke amongst themselves in Arabic, excitedly pointing to the brands on our thighs and to our swollen tummies. No doubt, scenting the chance of a large reward, they agreed to take us back to Arabia and to hide us on board. Before we knew what had happened we found ourselves locked up below.

As soon as it was dark, the fishing boat quietly slipped out of the port and headed for the open sea. When we were clear of land, the four fisherman let us out of our hiding place, together with our bundle of strange clothes.

They inspected us from head to foot and pulling off the scarves we had wrapped round our heads, were astonished to find our bald and shiny craniums. They were even more astonished to read Raisa's name tattooed on our bald heads.

To try and make them understand, we pulled out our old dog's heads from our packages. This also delighted and astonished them. Eagerly they asked to see more! Unfastening our parcels, we started, merely as a joke, to put on the dog skins - which in any case protected us better against the sea air than the rags which the rebel troops had thrown to us.

The grinning fishermen helped us to buckle them on, and then to our annoyance insisted on strapping back on our thick rubber paws. Once again we were helpless little dogs!

They were very excited by all this, and we soon had to submit to their male demands - just as we were. Having been repeatedly taken by a dog, by a dwarf and by Indian youths treated as stallions, I found the demands of these simple fishermen relatively easy to accept, despite our state. But for Oslo it was a different matter. She had become a real lesbian and hated men. But what could she do but submit? However, she managed to limit the damage to her pride by offering the use of her tongue and mouth to the delighted fishermen. Making use also of my body and her mouth, they climaxed one after the other.

When all four of them had satiated themselves with us, they finished lacing us up into our dog skins, and carefully fastened us to the mast. But what really interested them now were clearly our brand marks and tattoos.

The sea was flat calm. The moonlight was magnificent. I must admit that I did not find it too awful when one of the fishermen came back, excited me with his hand, and again brutally penetrated me. Perhaps it was the feeling that I could not do anything to stop him. Perhaps it was the intense masochistic mental pleasure of having to submit, despite my repugnance, to the embrace of an all powerful male.

The crew were delighted with their unexpected windfall. Having altered course to land their secret cargo, from which they now expected to make a handsome profit, they anchored in a small Arabian port and waited for nightfall before landing us.

Two of the fishermen went off to seek information, and the other two watched us closely.

After several hours, the men who had gone off returned with two other, well dressed Arabs. They came down below decks and looked at us all over and felt our swollen bellies carefully. Having examined our brand marks they nodded their heads, recognising apparently the crest of Raisa and her father embedded in our flesh. Certainly in the course of the long drawn-out bargaining with the fishermen, the name of Sheik Said was repeatedly mentioned.

Had we been sold again? Or, was it just a matter of getting the reward for what seemed to them to be the recapture of escaped slaves? I simply do not know. But one thing was certain, a deal had been struck and in exchange for a large number of bank notes we changed ownership again. We were lifted up in a cargo net, like animals being unloaded, and dropped into the bottom of a small boat which took us ashore.

A cord was put round our necks, and we were taken to a nearby tavern where several men were sitting cross legged, and smoking native hookahs. We were immediately taken to a basement - a sort of cow shed which opened onto the rear courtyard of the house.

We heard more words, and then a woman came and took charge of our cords. She led us down to a sort of underground dark dungeon. There was straw on the floor. She pointed to it making us understand that we should sleep on it. Then one of our 'buyers' came down and fastened two old slave collars round our necks. Each was attached to a short length of heavy chain which was locked to a big ring set in the wall.

The other 'buyer' then came down carrying a sort of pliers and an instrument like that used to make holes in leather. A bright light was switched on to enable them to see better what they were doing. My hands were fastened behind my back. I was made to sit on the floor and my ankles were chained wide apart to keep us still.

The two men and the women now stood over me. I was quite helpless and unable to move. One of the men pulled my head back and held it tight. The other seized the tip of my tongue with his pliers and pulled it up, out of my mouth. I felt a sudden terrible pain as the woman then made a little hole in the end of my tongue. She threaded a big ring through the hole. One of the men closed the end of the ring with his pliers.

My tongue was released but I found to my horror that the ring prevented the tip from going back into my mouth. I was now forced to keep my tongue permanently thrust out. This made it impossible for me to talk. I could lap up food and drink but I could scarcely even make a barking noise! I remembered how Hercules, the dwarf, had been similarly ringed.

I watched, horrified, as they did the same to Oslo. Obviously they did not want to risk us calling out, or telling our story to any would-be purchasers.

Our ankles and wrists were freed. A bowl of nasty tasting cheap gruel was placed on the floor. The light was switched off. The door was locked. We were left alone in the darkness, quite unable to say a word to each other, looking at one another through the little eye holes of our face masks, with our tongues poking out of the mouth slits and held there by our new rings.

More than ever before we felt reduced to the level of animals.

Unable to communicate, we were both not bitterly regretting our foolishness in no taking advantage of our freedom when it had been offered to us.

How stupid we had been to try and make our way back to Raisa!

Early next morning, the two men returned, carrying a flashlight camera. They took several pictures of us, taking off our head pieces to show our features, slipping our new tongue rings through the slit in the head piece opposite our mouths.

They also took several close up pictures of our hairless beauty lips and our swollen bellies, holding back the side of our dog skins to show the brand marks on our thighs on either side of the lips. Were these photographs intended, I wondered, to be shown to potential buyers?

We stayed another two days and two nights in the awful dungeon. There was no sanitation, just the straw on which we had to lie.

30 - BACK WITH THE PRINCESS

Suddenly the door opened and we were thrilled to see four men standing there, wearing the livery of Sheik Said.

It was with real relief that we found ourselves being lifted up by them and carried out to a closed van. We were put inside it and the door was locked. We could not see out at all There was just a little air hole in the roof. With our ringed tongues held out through the mouth slits of our head pieces, we could not say a word to each other.

It was already dark when, suddenly the van suddenly stopped. The door was unlocked. We were dragged out. Despite the darkness, I realised that I was standing outside my old cage in the garden of the palace of Sheik Said.

My huge and terrifying black Keeper was standing by the open door to the cage, tapping his dog whip impatiently. Hastily I scuttled into the cage. It was like coming home!

The Keeper fastened my old heavy iron collar round my neck. He examined the dreadful ring through the tip of my tongue and, to my dismay, nodded approvingly.

I felt again the heavy weight of the collar chain. Tears ran down my face piece, as I again realised the enormity of what I had done in voluntarily giving up my freedom.

I felt even more unhappy when I saw that Oslo had been put back into her old cage - well separated from mine.

Horrified, I found that I was sharing my cage again with a real bitch and even more horrified when I saw that she was well in-whelp.

My chain was again too short for me to reach the bars separating my cage from the next door ones. But I was astonished to that it held a naked young dwarf, who somehow looked familiar. He was white, whereas Hercules, I remembered, was a light coffee colour. Of course I had never seen Hercules's body for he had been kept sewn into his dog skin to hide his birthmarks, whereas this dwarf was stark naked.

I could not help noticing that despite his small frame, his manhood and testicles seemed to be normal human size.

In the cage on the other side was a Great Dane. He too looked familiar.

That night I lay huddled up in my cage against the real bitch. I could feel her whelps moving in her belly. I could feel my own 'foal' moving similarly. I remembered what it was like to have to carry a litter of puppies. My heart went out to the suffering young bitch. From the size of her teats, it looked as though she was carrying her first litter. Had I, as an experienced brood bitch, been put in with her to give her comfort and help?

If so, I thought, the wheel had really turned full circle.

Next morning, I was amazed to see coming up to my cage, no less than ... my wonderful former Mistress, Raisa!

Apparently, after the death of her husband, she had returned to her father's palace and had resumed all her old activities.

To say that I was thrilled to see her again, was an understatement. It is difficult to express what I felt. My Mistress had the door to my cage opened. I crawled towards her, straining against the chain which held me back, desperately to touch her ... and to be touched. She bent down, kissed my head piece and bent as if to wipe away my tears. They might have been running down the face of a dog, but they came from my heart, from the heart of a passionate woman who adored her and who longed to be her lesbian slave girl again.

She was clearly delighted with my swollen tummy, but then, to my dismay, she also examined approvingly the ring through my tongue before stepping back out of the cage, resuming her old haughty ways. I saw that her beauty had not faded. Indeed she seemed even more beautiful than ever. She shut the door of the cage again and turned back to speak to me through the bars.

"This time, Kelbai, I'm going to keep you here with me, or in your cage and on your chain, for the rest of your life - or at least until you are no longer any use to me as a breeding slave, a brood bitch. And the same applies to Oslo, who, like you, will also soon be starting her new career as another of my breeding slaves. I'm so glad your Mistresses across the Gulf had you both mated. I shall enjoy your maternities and you little coloured progeny will make valuable slaves. And then you'll both be nice and ready for my Great Dane and dwarf stallions."

I looked at her in astonishment, not understanding just what she meant. Great Dane and dwarf stallions?

"The litter of puppies you had here all sold very well and so, too, did the dwarf triplets " she explained. "I have been inundated with requests for similar ones and everyone wants to know how I bred such a strong prize winning litters. No one guessed that they came from an English brood bitch! That's my little secret! But you've made a lot of money for your Mistress, and now you are going to make a lot more for her! And so will Oslo! When I came here, after my husband died, I decided to take up Great Dane puppy and dwarf breeding seriously. There is a huge demand for them in the households of rich Sheiks and Princes."

I gasped in horror as I realised what she was saying.

"I've now got two dwarf stallions, one Hercules and the other one, Orion, who's a son of Hercules out of you."

Hercules's son! My son!

"Hercules is back in his dog skin and head piece again, to hide his dreadful birth marks, but, as you can see I'm keeping Orion as naked as the day he was born, the day you brought him into the world!"

She pointed to the little creature in the cage. "Yes, that's Orion!"

She called out: "Orion!". The little naked coffee coloured dwarf ran across the cage towards her, dragging behind him the heavy chain that, as usual in the menagerie, was fastened round his neck. He was so tiny that he could stand up in his cage under the bars that formed the roof. But I saw again with a shock that there was nothing miniature about his manhood, even though it was still immature.

"Yes," said Raisa, "I hope he'll sire many excellent dwarf litters. Hercules, his father, was a quadroon and so this one's seven eighths white. If he's put to Oslo. her progeny will be be almost pure white and so yet more valuable. I have high hopes that he'll make a really champion stallion. I want to breed a distinctive strain in my dwarfs, and, if possible, I shall later mate you with one of Oslo's sons by him, your grandson!"

"Dwarfs, develop very quickly and Orion will soon be ready to be put to Oslo and," she went on with a mischievous smile, "perhaps to his mother well! I've discussed it all with my vet, and we agree that the chance of anything going wrong is one well worthwhile accepting in order to get a really good homogeneous breeding stock. But meanwhile, while we're waiting for Orion to mature fully, you're both first both going to have a litter of dwarfs by a proven dwarf stallion - Orion's father Hercules."

Raisa paused. It was just as well for my head was reeling.

"But before then," she went on, "I want you both quickly to have a litter of puppies by Tiny or one of his sons, using, as before, the same proven technique of my vet."

Tiny's son! Was that who the Great Dane was in the cage next to me? I glanced at the cage.

"Yes, he's Pedro, also your son - or rather you were his surrogate mother!" laughed the Princess. "Didn't you recognise him?

My son? I looked at him carefully ... Yes! Droopy! The little brown coloured baby dwarf whom I had mentally called Droopy because he was the smallest of the litter when he had been born. The little one who used to be elbowed out of the way by his bigger brothers as they fought to get at my nipples.

I had gone out of my way to make sure that he got more than his fair share of milk. My God! I could see his pink manhood coming out of its furry sheath and into erection. There was nothing droopy about him now. Indeed, what a lovely Great Dane he had become! A feeling of pride overcame me.

Then she turned back to the cage holding the little dwarf. She called "Orion" and the now big strong Great Dane eagerly bounded across his cage towards her, also dragging behind him the heavy chain fastened, as usual, round his neck.

"Yes, he's already fully developed! But he's for Oslo - you're going to be covered this time by Tiny. He's in a cage just up the row. Isn't it lucky that I was able to buy him back off his owner? And to be able to buy Pedro back as well. They'll make a fine pair of stallion dogs, father and son. Next time round, I'll swop them over and put you to Pedro and Oslo to Tiny.

Next time round! Was there no end to the Princess's breeding plans? A feeling of jealousy swept through me, a mother's jealousy, perhaps, that her precious son was going to be mated with Oslo!

"Yes, so you see, as well as pleasing me, you and Oslo are going tom play a key role in my dwarf and Great Dane breeding enterprises. Every fifteen months or so, I'd like to get a litter of puppies and a litter of dwarfs from each of you. Ideally, you should both be producing a litter each spring, just like real animal. I'm going to try and arrange it so that one of you, again with the help of my vet's now proven techniques, produces a litter of puppies and the other, again under the supervision of my Breeding Keeper, produces a litter of baby dwarfs."

Was I horrified or thrilled that I was going the centre of my Mistress's attention ?

"Of course," she went on, "it'll be a little complex working out the timing since, just as you did before, you'll both now carry each both types of litter for longer than normal. I want to make sure that both the little puppies and the baby dwarfs are really big and strong by the time they are born. That's always been the trouble about breeding here, both puppies and baby dwarfs, tend to be so weak when they are born. But I've found the answer: use broad hipped European brood bitches to carry them for longer ...!"

My God, I thought in horror. Really what fools we had been in not escaping at all costs back to Europe and civilisation. But at least we would be well looked after as valuable brood bitches.

Again she paused.

"We expect to be able to go on using you both for a good long time - time enough to cross you with your grandson by Orion out of Oslo and have a steady stream of puppies by Tiny and Pedro. So you won't have to he put down for quite some time!"

She looked down at me, laughing.

"You're a very lucky little dog to have been found and returned to me. And now I'm going to have such fun breeding seriously from you, as soon as you've produced your present progeny ... And I'm delighted with the clever idea of the ring through your tongue. You'll never be able to talk again. You and Oslo are going to be my real little dogs - thinking only of pleasing me and of breeding for me ... And I can't wait to feel that little ring between my thighs! You'll soon learn to make it jiggle about in a most exciting way! I can see that all my friends will want to borrow you more than ever!

"Oh incidentally," she went on, "you'll both be having a real bitches, who had recently whelped themselves, put into your cages with you to help feed and rear your puppies and your dwarf whelps - two nipples aren't really enough for a litter, even if the breasts are big and strong. But I have told your Keepers to get your breasts as big as possible before you next whelp, for it's your human milk that really gives the whelps such a good start."

She started to walk away, but then turned.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. Of course, as before you will only be allowed sex with a dog or a dwarf, and only when you come into season, between your litters - unless of course you please me so much that I let you have a little relief in my bed!"

I was feeling shattered, as I looked alternatively at Pedro my surrogate Great Dane son and at Orion my dwarf son.

A few minutes later the Princess returned to my cage.

"As thanks to your ring," she said, "you'll never again be tempted to try and talk, I've made a decision. I'm going to give you a special rest before you drop your whelp. And this time you are going to be allowed to write! I know that you were a well educated girl, and so I'm going to have you brought to my apartments every day for the next two months."

I gasped with excitement, not quite understanding what she meant.

"Not only will you be used to excite me, but I shall also have your front paws removed so that you can hold a pen. Your wrists will be chained, though - just in case you start getting ideas above your station. And you are going to write for me the complete and detailed story of all that has happened to you out here. I shall expect a full and frank description. Just remember that I am your Mistress, and I will have you thoroughly thrashed if I am not pleased with the manuscript!"

She turned on her heel and left me - without even looking back.

A few hours later, Ruth came and took me out of the cage. She took me to Raisa's bedroom. Here, Raisa herself, removed my rubber covered front paws, replacing them with manacles joined by a fairly long chain. The click, as she fastened them round my wrist, gave me a little shiver - a little shiver of excitement in which she also shared.

Then in a little room adjoining the large living room, where she spent most of her time, she sat me down at a school desk - to which I was chained by the neck.

It was here, still wearing my head piece, that I have spent most of the two month's 'rest' which I had been allowed for writing my memoirs.

I have written these seriously and diligently. Occasionally my Mistress has allowed me several little "periods of recreation". During these, she took advantage of the relative freedom of my hands to allow me to join her in several little lesbian games. Every evening, however, my rubber paws were strapped back in place, and I was put back in my cage where the real bitch has now whelped. Presumably it will be she who will be helping feed and raise my own litter of whelps in a few months time.

It is now the last day. My belly is huge and I must be due any day. My story is finished. I shall be happy to hand it over to the Mistress, whom I love - and to whom it is dedicated with adoration and respect.

You have just read it!

I understand that my Mistress is planning to have it privately published for her women friends in Arabia and abroad.

As you put it down, give a thought to the innocent young English girl who came to Arabia as Sally, and who became the brood bitch and brood mare, Kelbai!

THE END