Author's Note: This is (potentially, if all y'all ask) part one of a three part story covering Princess's adventures over the course of a weekend here in the beautiful Bay Area.

While this is a work of fiction generally, much of the content is drawn from actual situations, and I tried to keep it as realistic as possible. In addition, this is the first story I've attempted in the woman's voice, and specifically solicit feedback from those of the fairer sex as to any problems or improvements you see.

My thanks for your attention, and Happy Reading!


Chapter 1

The second hand on the clock clicks forward. Did it just click back? Will this meeting ever end?

One of my peers is rambling on about market statistics of enterprise software consumption in South-West mid-cap companies. God! I want to cum and she won't shut up and let me go! Thank God for the panty-liner held in place by my thong. I'm so horny that I'd be staining my skirt already.

Friday, almost 5pm and I can get out of here and get to my weekend of relaxation. Fridays are the worst. Monday I come in satisfied. Tuesday through Thursday are normal, vanilla days. But Friday; I can feel my nipples, held hard by their shields rubbing against the lace of my bra. My ass squirms on the small but noticeable plug that prepares me for this evening's play, both by loosening me and by stimulating me. As I shift my ass, I feel my thigh-high stockings rub against each other, and my mostly-bare ass slides against the satin lining of my skirt. At least I didn't wear my butterfly vibrator! I made that mistake on a Friday...on random all day, and I don't remember anything I did at work. Sex is great, but I really should try to keep my job, too.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Kristen. I'm 31, with brown/auburn hair and hazel eyes. I have a few extra pounds, being 5'2" and 130 lbs, but they are mostly confined to filling out my C-cup and my mid-thigh skirt. I exercise like crazy, 100 crunches a day, plus the bike, plus as many machines as I can get to...so things tend to stay put. My man says I'm built like a brick shit-house, which I don't mind at all. I'm a Greek-Irish mutt, which has given me a light olive skin that tans wonderfully, and high, sharp cheekbones which more than one boyfriend has described as regal.

My Irish lips are a little thin, and my eyebrows somewhat pale, but this is California. A few trips to a Latin-focused beauty salon, and I'd learned the art of getting the dark outline on my lip-liner, contrasting with a deep red, or my favorite, a blue-steel lip color. To paraphrase Roger Waters, it isn't what God gave me; it's what He intended!

Our relationship was vanilla for the first few weeks after I met Frank on a blind date. Even so, soon after our first date we were fucking like rabbits. I eventually revealed to Frank, now my husband, that I liked to play with a vibrator. He in turn admitted that he masturbated chronically, especially to online porn. That conversation evolved into trips to the internet, where he'd show me porn, casually, going to every different type of site, too embarrassed to point out the ones that he found sexiest. We also started taking trips to adult stores, which being in the Bay Area was really convenient. North Bound Leather, Pierre Silber, Good Vibrations. I *love* living out here!

He thought he was being subtle about which porn appealed to him, but guys are so visual, so easy. I stroked his cock as we surfed. Gay porn; little response (that was a relief). Femdom; half mast. Ladyboy porn; again the same. Strict bondage; up periscope! Veterinarian's and Sir Jeff's pony-girls and doggy-girls...whoa! Daddy wants a pet!

Our adventures led us to try a variety of different sorts of play and roles. We're now both pierced all over; my tongue is obvious if you know to look, but my best girlfriend was shocked to hear that I'd also had my labia and hood done, and he'd had a PA, frenum and gouche as well nipples for both of us ...but seriously, that is nothing compared to the stirrup that I had installed on the back of his neck. It actually tore twice, but now the scar tissue there is so strong that it can take some serious abuse...and occasionally gets it. It's a 8 gauge, but it really is well-hidden by his collar, so hasn't caused any comments except at the gym.

But I digress....

Pony play was the first big step for us towards a lifestyle-kink approach. He really enjoyed marching me around in $1K worth of leather and harnesses. He even went took me camping in that getup...4 days in the woods with bells hanging from my nipples and clit-hood, a bit in my mouth, blinders on, and a tail rising high from my ass, leather keeping my waist cinched tight and my tits pointed high, and my feet clomping in custom hooves. We still have a photo album from that trip. Whenever we open up those pics and videos, he's instantly hard. He can't stop talking about the "shine of the sweat on [my] round, so fuckable ass". I admit, especially the videos where my hips, framed in the black leather strapping that make them seem wider than ever, have to sway twice as much to make up for my trapped arms, combined with the swing of my mostly-free breasts, the nipple bells jingling along with the one tinkling from my clit. Yeah, it's hot. If we ever go poly, I'll be topping a pony-girl for sure. One look at me and I can see why anyone would want to grab my hair from behind, bend that pony over and slam away.

It was great for him, but it really didn't bring out the sub in me. A nasty sunburn, a thousand bug bites, sore shoulders from the reverse-prayer, cotton mouth from hours of a bit-gag, and really, really tired feet. Yeah, he fucked my brains out several times, but it was awkward in that getup, and really only worked with me leaning over the hood of the car, which I scratched to hell with my nipple bells. It's still great for once-in-awhile, but I was honest with him (they will listen, girls) and our focus moved.

Puppy play was next, and it clicked. And that leads us to today, and my present aroused state.

My best friend Kate watched me from across the conference table. I've known and worked with her since before I met Frank, and she knows much of what Frank and I have done in the past. When I told her over drinks at happy hour about our pony-girl camping trip, I used the personal nature of it as an excuse to whisper the details into her ear as I leaned in with a hand on her thigh. Towards the end of my tale, which I drew out in excruciating detail, her thighs were pressed tight together around my hand and her breath was hot on my neck. Her arousal got so obvious that when my story ended, the bartender came over and plumped a glass down in front of her saying "ice water, on the house" with a wink and a smile.

Kate and I actually fucked (which, if you'll write me, I'll recount), but that is not what this story is about. By this time she new about my distractibility on Fridays, so I shouldn't have been surprised to hear her ramble something to the presenter and turn to me and say "don't you agree, Kristen?" Bitch. I muttered my way out of it, vowing revenge...then getting even hotter because, well, she's definitely fun in the sack and really brings out the top in me.

The presenter finally finished, letting us go a whole five minutes early. Kate led me to my desk, blocking me from getting my stuff and rubbing a shoulder against my tit as I pushed past her to get into my cube.

"I thought so! (Slut!)," the latter under her breath with a grin.

"What?" I could guess, but I really wanted to get out the door.

"You've got your shields on today...anything else I should know about?"

"You already know more than you should, Kate, although maybe I can schedule a lesson for you later if you're going to keep being so inquisitive." Inwardly I thought about my plug, and my ass clenched.

"Come on, Kristen, what's got you so riled? Every Friday. What gives? I'm holding you in here until I get an answer."

That made me moist...I'm half way to sub-space and my hot best friend (I'm not a lesbian...but she's definitely the occasional exception) made a suggestion that pushed me even further...

"I can see it on your face, girl. Do you need a trip to the little girl's room?" The last said in a baby-talk voice, followed with a flick of her tongue.

"Kate, I promise you, I'll spill my guts. You and me, Monday night, drinks and dirt. You buy, and I'll sing. Frank will be out with his buds watching football..."

"Cool, I'll *cum* over to your place and you can give me every *drop*..." again the tongue. No fucking way.

"A bar, Kate. MacArthur Park...that way you can take the train home. You'll be in no state to drive, and you might as well soak a Caltrain seat over your SUV. But you have to let me go now."

"Ok, Kristen. Monday. You better deliver." A coy smile, then she moved to let me out of my cube.

I glanced at both cubes to either side of mine, thankful that the occupants were not at home. They're nice people, but they didn't need to hear that. A Silicon Valley cube maze may be efficient for the company, but it sure lacks in privacy.

I made my way to my car as quickly as possible, again grateful for the panty-liner. Kate; she would make me give it up, but I would get my revenge. Maybe I should schedule drinks at my house... I could get Frank in on it; he certainly enjoyed it last time I pulled Kate into our games.

I came out of my reverie. My car was already running, but I don't remember starting it, or getting in it for that matter. Wow. Bad. I need to shut down until I get home or I won't get home alive.

The trip was deliberately uneventful, boring and safe. I was already struggling to get my door open before the car stopped moving, cursing the integrated locking, but blessed because the car would have probably driven itself through the back of the garage if I had been able to get out without putting it in park.

I practically ran to the bedroom, tearing my shoes off first, sliding on the wood floor in my stocking feet as I struggled out of my blouse, then my bra, my tits swaying free (at last! My nipples were almost raw from the shields holding them against the lace). I paused to grab my phone. Frank knows not to start for home until he hears from me. I took a deep breath and called. I don't want him to know yet how horny I am.

"Hi, love."

"Hey, sweetheart. You home yet?"

"Just got here. I'll be ready in a few minutes, if you want to start home."

"Gee, hun. I dunno. I still have a pile to deal with, and the McKenzie account went crazy today. Can you put diner in the fridge, and I'll get home later?"

Teasing bastard! He probably doesn't even have an account called that. And dinner in the fridge? Stick my ass in the fridge he means. Well, two can play that game.

"Sure, Frank. That's fine I guess. I can always do a girls night out instead. How late do you need?"

The pause at the other end of the line gives him away, but he rallies. "Gee, Kristen, I uh, well. I mean, I could be here for *hours*, but if you've already got dinner heating up..."

Cut to the chase, asshole!

"Frank, you've got an hour to get home. One second late, of if your cock isn't hard and ready, you better hope that all I do to you is cut it off!" And I hang up the phone, frustrated that you can't slam a cellphone down the way you could one of those old-style rotary phones. I am going to fuck that bastard's brains out. Damn, he does know how to get me hot, though.

I strip off my skirt (finally, I can move my legs!) my stockings, thong and the now spongy panty liner. Off to my jewelry box and get my bells for my nipples and clit. I remove the nipple shields and replace them with the bells. I look in the mirror briefly. I like what I see, but wish I was still eighteen. How come guys just get hotter, and I fight to keep from sagging every day? To hell with it. When I was eighteen I didn't even know how to fuck. Now I cum when Frank snaps his fingers, and in turn can push him to the point that I think he'll have a stroke. The body may get wasted on youth, but no kid will ever keep up with me. I glance at the robe hanging on the valet by the bed. Nope, not tonight. I'm going to walk proud.

I race downstairs, nude except for my jewelry, to get dinner ready. Wine goes on the table, along with a spring herb salad with sliced, chilled rare flank steak and a black pepper, parmesan and balsamic vinaigrette. I'm a 5-minute gourmet. I need to be, in my state of mind. I look at the table and the lovely, well kept dining room, seeing myself reflected nude in the mirror above the sideboard. It's a shot for the Hustler version of Better Homes and Gardens. I let out the briefest sigh, knowing that at a relatively young age, we're not rich, but we really have it all.

Back from my reflective pause and up to the bedroom, and I'm faced with a choice. But tonight there is no choice. I have a "puppy suit" and a "bitch suit". The bitch suit is more restraining, doubling over both my arms and legs. It leaves me completely helpless, and when I want to be taken like that (or Frank wants to fuck his helpless bitch into submission), it is the suit of choice, preferably with a ring-gag so that he can take my mouth as well as my pussy and ass, without resistance on my part.

Tonight is the puppy suit, because it leaves me more able to *make* him fuck me. It is constricting, sure, keeping me effectively helpless until he lets me out, but I can be much more of a participant in it. If he is still in a teasing mood when he gets home, he could torment me for hours (and has done so in the past). I need to be able to draw the line; I need to get fucked now.

It is a spandex catsuit, in white with black Dalmatian spots painted over it, and an integrated spandex hood, with two holes for my hair to come out like ears. At the four corners I sewed on big rubber paws, that with the help of small tie-down type nylon webbing, easily lock firmly onto my wrists. They are almost impossible for me to remove once they're on, and provide 3 d-rings each, just in case they're needed. A cute puppy nose sewn to the hood, a spiked, locking collar with its own d-rings, and a black butt plug with a curved white tail. It is a gorgeous look, and makes me feel really beautiful and playful.

After putting my hair quickly into two simple braids at the top of my head, I get the suit out, along with the collar and the plug, and go to the corner of the bed where a few feet of string are tied to the bedpost. The feet go on first, and I tighten them at the ankles. I pull up the suit to my waist, then get on my hands and knees and remove the small plug and add the larger plug tail, wrapping the smaller plug in a piece of paper towel for later cleaning. I then close the clasp at my lower back, just above my plug-tail, and put the two halves of the back zipper together. I thread the string through the zipper-pull. I pull the hood over my head, pulling my braids through the "ear" holes, and lock the collar around my neck. With the suit stretched across my chest, I fit my tits through the elastic circles that are there to keep them in place in the suit. My nipple bells can then be threaded through two holes in the front, that are large enough that my areolas are fully accessible. I check that the thread strung through the zipper is accessible in front of me, and I push my hands into the arms of the suit, using the paws to work the spandex up over my shoulders. Double checking the thread for the last time, I pull the fasteners closed on my wrists. I then hold the thread in my rubber paws, and slowly pull it forwards. If I'd been wearing the bitch suit, I would have had to tie it off first, or use my teeth to hold it. With the puppy suit I can pull it closed, as long as I'm patient. It comes slowly closed, and I back away and the thread comes out of the zip. I'm in, and save trying to cut it (and given my clumsy paws, that would prove difficult) I'm in until Frank says otherwise.

On my hands and knees, I crawl down to the living room and climb up onto the couch, curling up with my head on the arm and waiting for my Master to come home. Sure, I could walk...but when I'm "puppy," I like to feel it.

I'm sitting happily in my self-imposed bondage when I hear Master's car in the drive, and his key unlock the door.

"Princess? Princess are you home?" That's my puppy name.

"Woof!" Gag or no, I like not being able to speak, and instead do my "Rin Tin Tin" impersonation, getting my point across by *other* means.

Frank comes to the living room. "Bad Princess!" He grabs his newspaper from the hall table and rolls it up. "Dog off the furniture!" I delay and he strides over and smacks my ass with the paper. "Naughty dog!" he says as I finally jump down.

I put my paws up on his waist, kneeling and start nuzzling his crotch, checking to see if he brought me a bone. My lips find hardness, and he pushes me away. "Down girl. Not yet. No bone for puppy until I've had my dinner."

He walks to the dining room and I follow at his heel, rubbing up against his leg. "Darn underfoot Princess! You're going to trip me!" he says as he stops and caresses me under my chin with his hand. "Ok, go to your corner and let me eat in peace. I'll get you when I'm done."

I make whimpering noises and trot off to my corner, quite visible from his seat, where a big dog-bed type pillow is waiting for me. I make sure to sway as much as possible so that my tail will wag and bells will jingle. If I'm going to stay horny, at least he will have a little more to think about. I glance back and see him staring at my plugged ass. I may be bound, but I so own him. I smile and curl up on my pillow, watching him out of the corner of my eye, seeing him do the same.

He tucks into his dinner, first hesitantly, then with more deliberation, giving equal attention to the salad, the wine and his paper. "Hey, Princess. It says here that frozen orange juice concentrate prices are set to *firm up*. Prices will be *rising* steadily." He glances at me and I don't rise to the bait, so he switches tactics.

"It says in your horoscope that your Master is going to fuck your ass tonight, and you'll be grateful to lick him clean afterwards. These darn things are getting more accurate every day, don't you think?"

My response is a whimper. I've done ass-to-mouth with him on occasion, always with preparation and at my own initiative. I know he won't force it on me...but still, it's a good threat. I whimper more loudly to let him know that I need to be a good puppy!

"Ok, well, maybe they're wrong tonight. Come on into the living room...you can even curl up on the couch with me while I watch the news."

The news? I'll show him the news. I get up gleefully and prance over to him. He clips a short leash to my collar (yay!) and leads me to the couch, where he sits and I hop up next to him. I start nuzzling his neck, and he responds "down, Princess" and grabs the remote.

I stop with the affection, and look from him to the remote and back. I start to growl sinisterly. I then start to try to paw his clothes off, nipping at his neck.

"Girl, girl! Whoa! Down girl!"

I growl louder, moving my head down to his crotch, trying to use my mouth and paws to get his pants off. Frustrated with the effort, I look up at him and bark loudly several times until he relents.

"OKOKOKOK. Off they come. I promised you'd get your bone, I know."

He quickly pulls all of his clothes off while I look on with feigned anger. His cock has hardened further from the play...he loves this just as much as I do.

"Ok, girl. If you're going to be a bitch, get down off my couch!" He stands up, and gives a light tug at the leash and I hop off the couch and move to the middle of the room.

Frank stands over me. He really is a beautiful man. Close to six foot, which from the floor looks gigantic. Dark hair, receding a little, with some early gray, only makes him look more authoritative. His body is good. At about 200 lbs he's well built, and solid. His cock, pointing now just above my head, is a good, average size. Thick enough, probably a little more than six inches. Nothing too intense, but from where I'm looking, I wonder how I ever get all that into my mouth. Thinking of that, my mouth opens and my tongue wags out. "Woof!"

"Ok, Princess. You want a taste first?"

"Woof!"

"Ok, Princess. Come get your treat."

I advance immediately and start slurping on his cock. At this angle, and as hard as he is, it keeps jerking up and tickling the top of my throat. I move my head back and forth, occasionally pausing to poke my tongue into his urethra, past his PA ring, then darting it underneath to attack his frenum and the area under his glans, then back down my throat again. Two minutes of this and he stops me.

"Whoa, girl, enough. Unless you want me to nut in your mouth, then no bone for puppy's little kitten..."

I pull back, licking my lips and smiling. "Woof!"

"Turn around girl. Show me what you got."

I rotate with a woof and wag my tail, and he kneels behind me. I spread my legs and he cups a hand over my shaven mound, wiggling the bell with his fingers causing it, and my clit, to jingle. A finger slides in easily, as I'm literally soaked for him.

"Good girl. That's a good girl" he says softly as he adds another finger inside, patting and stroking my ass with his other hand. I know my ass is like a magnet to the steel of his cock, and as usual, he can't wait.

"Ok, girl, take it easy." His fingers come out, and his other hand moves to my hip to pull me towards him as his tip touches my lips. "Good girl, that's Master's good girl." The words drawn out long and slow as he pulls me towards him, his shaft slowly entering me, with slight movements in and out to lubricate it.

Soon enough, he's in to the hilt, both hands on my hips, forcing his balls tight against my mound as his stomach pushes my tail forward, angling the plug down and putting additional pressure on his cock inside me.

"Easy now, that's a good girl." He waits a few moments to let me adjust to his presence, then slowly at first, begins stroking back and forth. "Good girl, that's a very *good* girl."

His tempo slowly rises, and as I heat up I begin to start whimpering, which makes me even hotter. It's like the doggy-version of talking dirty. I really get off on it. He feels me getting close, and he pauses, firmly, deeply in me and reaches around for my clit. He tweaks it with his fingers as he grabs the leash and pulls back firmly, the pressure on my neck causing the orgasm to explode.

I voice out a few squeaks as my walls contract around his hard cock, and in turn he pulls harder on the leash and really goes at it with his hand. I shudder, then lose it and quake and squirt all down my legs, putting a puddle on the Pergo floor. God, when he makes me cum that hard it is so humiliating, but in the best way.

He waits for the orgasm to subside, then begins stroking again, this time more firmly and deliberately. I begin slamming my ass back, willing him to cum for me in turn. I feel his cock harden further, telling me he's close, and bringing me close to a second orgasm. I do my best to relax and hold off, not wanting to push him out, which is all the more difficult with the tail waving in the air stimulating my ass wonderfully. With each pounding stroke I let out a pleading "Woof" to tell him, beg him "please cum for me, come in me!"

That does it. One hand on my waist, the other pulling the leash back violently, and I feel his cock spasm. His body shakes against mine, paralyzed, every muscle taut, his fingers digging so deeply into my hip that I can feel each nail, knowing I'll be bruised, marked.

With the tension on my collar I let out another squeaking yelp. His body relaxes slightly, then, cock still filling me, he goes for my clit and brings me to a second climax. Not as crazy as the first, but fulfilling. I push back against him, my face dropping to the floor, and my spasming pussy squeezes out his softening cock as I finish my cum.

Nothing moves for several seconds. We rest like that, then his hand comes down firmly on my ass.

"Good girl. Fuck." He catches his breath again. "Here's the deal. Clean me up, then you get some couch time and 'Gilmore Girls' while I return the favor. How does that sound to my Princess?"

Wow. He must really cummed well. Doggy night usually means that he watches whatever he damn well pleases with me watching happily from my pillow. I turn around as quickly as I can to accept the gift, and the praise implicit in it. I slurp on his cock for all I'm worth. It won't stiffen for me in the minute he allows...I really must have drained him. Darn, I could use another fuck about now. He pulls away.

"Good girl, good Princess. Time for your treat." He lays a blanket on the couch for me and pats it for me to hop up. "Come on, girl."

I get up on the couch, and he Tivo's on an old Gilmore Girls. I know he loathes the show, which makes his action all the more significant. He pulls my legs off the couch to either side of his head, and starts lapping away at me. I don't know what happened in the episode, my mind mostly in the nirvana of his oral ministrations. I mean, sure. Lorelai got all bothered about Rory thinking about kissing a boy sometime before she's fifty, when really Lorelai just needed to get laid herself. But, I couldn't tell you what was going on beyond that.

It dawns on me, about thirty minutes in, that he's just ruined the show for me forever. Yay for interior drama in general, but the stark contrast of me getting fucked like a dog, then serviced by the man I love, because we're honest and open and kinky... Well, Lorelai needs to get laid. That's all there is to it. The guys on the show, looking now at my lover, they're not men. No man would put up with that bullshit. Lorelai will die alone in a house with a thousand cats. She's wound too tight; I knew that, but this contrast has painted it so starkly that I'm done with it.

"Woof!"

Frank pulls his tongue out of me. "What is it, girl?"

I push the controller at him, nod towards the stairs, and bark again. "WOOF!" A loud "wake up, Frank. I like the attention, but I want YOU!"

With a surprised look, he turns off the idiot box, and says "snuggle time?"

I hop down, give his still naked cock a lick, and scamper for the back door.

"Ok, you need a walk first. Coming!"

He opens the door, and leads me to the back lawn where we have a bowl set up for our Friday session. I have a nice, long pee. He pulls my plug out, and I try to see if I can finish. It's honestly hard to tell with the plug in. I get out a few small farts, but nothing more. He cleans me with some wipes and re-plugs me.

Seriously, this part was a shocker. The first time he made me pee in the back yard I was viciously resistant...and I thought, as I peed, that I'd be furious. But I found it wasn't humiliating at all. It was almost paternal on his part, caring for me and cleaning me like that. We talked it out, and it's become an important part of our ritual.

Cleaned and comfortable, I pull on the leash and drag him back to the house. We make our way to the bedroom, and he spoons me from behind, my head on his arm, his hand on my hip. We nod off, and I awaken to find myself rocking my hips back, almost of their own accord, his manhood hardening for me again. We make love slowly, slowly into the night.

As we make love, I wonder, will he take me to the park tomorrow? I love it when he smuggles me into the park, taking me there in my kennel, leading me into the woods to haplessly chase squirrels, until he gives in and ties my leash off to a sapling, maybe taking me anally while we hear hikers pass a few dozen yards or so away, not knowing we are there. The fantasy, perhaps to be a reality, continues though several gentle orgasms for me until he comes in me again. We sleep until the dawn, and Saturday brings Princess another wonderful adventure.