RENÉE PRIDEUX - POOLSIDE WITH CANDY<br/><br/>As I spoke with Caesar and fondled him I caught sight from the corner of my eye of Candy. She was staring at the Labrador, her mouth dripping drool and her eyes filled with an unmistakable emotion. Lust. Aww, poor little Candy was on heat. I saw her haunches wiggling a little as she rubbed herself. What a naughty thing.<br/><br/>When I got changed I kept one eye on her too and was fairly sure I caught her staring at me as well. Maybe in the days when she was a human she had been straight, or maybe she had been bisexual, but now none of that mattered. She'd be mounted every which way by anyone who wanted her, man or woman, dog or bitch, cock or strap-on or fist or dildo. She would come to love them all equally. Judging from her small motions towards Caesar I didn't think she'd have a problem with cocks at least.<br/><br/>Which of course was a solid training tool in itself. Denial of pleasure. Bitches in heat could be driven almost insane by refusing them pleasure for... a week... two weeks. They'd be leaking so much wet they need extra water each day to rehydrate and of course with the promise of a bit of hanky-panky they'd be willing to do just about anything. Add to that my promise to cane them until they bled and they were always willing to<em>actually</em>do anything. Anything at all, no matter how debasing the acts were I demanded.<br/><br/>Ignoring the bitch and the spouted tirade of insolent questions she had asked as we left The Cages I sat down in my lounger, sipped my drink, comfortably crossed my legs and read the thin sheaf of papers which gave me all the details on Candy that the club had. It took me all of a couple of minutes during which the squirming dog continued to try and rub her thighs together. Eventually it became too much. I picked up my cane and briskly<em>swicked</em>it across the nearest tit. Not too hard but plenty hard enough to get her attention.<br/><br/><strong>"Stop fidgeting,"</strong>I scowled at her, removing my sunglasses so that she could see my eyes. I frowned.<strong>"One thing I can't bear is a bitch that fidgets. When you sit you will sit still. Let's get you familiar with the sitting posture first."</strong><br/><br/>I stood up, took her leash in my hand and moved to adjust her knees, back paws, front paws, back and head, pushing, shoving, smacking and so on until she was in exactly the posture I wanted.<br/><br/><strong>"There. This is the sitting position, When I say 'Sit!' you assume this position."</strong>Her back paws were about seven or eight inches apart, her knees eighteen inches apart. Her rump was pushed down hard on her heels and even pressed down between them somewhat. What this did was spread her buttocks and sex open and with her knees parted it meant her thighs were parted too making it quite impossible to rub her sex on anything or to stimulate it by pressing her thighs together. I had planted her front paws flat on the ground just outside her knees. I had put pressure on her back so her spine was a little dipped which caused her bust to push out.<br/><br/><strong>"Head up. Better. The point of this posture is three fold. It keeps you in one place. It prevents any bitch who might be feeling frisky from rubbing her legs together or seeking to gain pleasure by rubbing her naughty little cunt anywhere she shouldn't and lastly, with your back dipped, your head up and your front legs apart the posture displays your tits. That's very important because I like tits. I like to see them, grab them and cane them so you will make them available to me fully when you sit. Now, when you sit you also stay still. Having read this~"</strong>I waved the sheets of paper about,<strong>"~I know what is troubling you and unless I let you off your leash to play with the other doggies you DO. NOT. MOVE."</strong>Three more medium weight swats with the cane across those ample tits.<br/><br/><strong>"Good. Now your name is Candy in case you hadn't worked that out yet. My name is Renée and you will think of me in your head as 'Madame Owner' but you need not worry about addressing me correctly just yet because you are not going to. You are a dog. It does not matter that you can think and talk and walk and remember who President Lincoln was. When you are dressed as a dog, as you are now - NO TALKING."</strong><em>Swikk! swipp!</em>Two more across her chest which wobbled and shook wonderfully when I hit it.<br/><br/><strong>"When you are required to act as a dog such as you are now, you only make dog noises. You can bark or make happy wuff-wuff sounds or whine if you want something, but no speaking. If you so much as utter a word without my permission I'll cane your tits so hard you'll wish they were torn off. You can communicate to me - two barks means yes and... well you don't say no. Ever. No is not a word we use around here. For 'no' you just shut the fuck up. Or two barks will do."</strong>I sipped my drink. Caesar returned with my copy of today's paper and I thanked him again with another teasing caress of his splendid dog-hood.<br/><br/><strong>"Clear so far, Candy?"</strong>