<strong>Candy, at the poolside with Ms. Prideux</strong><br/><br/>I stopped my wriggling, turning my attention to Ms. Prideux, but within seconds my legs had resumed their frustrated rubbing motion. I couldn't help myself. If I'd had my hands available to me I would have been fingering myself, to relieve myself, my pussy leaking, dripping onto the floor now. It didn't matter I was surrounded by people and animals. I just<em>had </em>to cum. I continued moving my legs, rubbing them furiously, the motion quite insufficient to bring me to and over the edge. It was unbelievably frustrating, and it showed in my face. Not that Ms. Prideux was watching me anyway, her attention focused on a sheet of paper in her hands. Suddenly my right breast erupted in pain. Not the dull ache I had suffered from for hours, but a sharp, stinging pain that made me yelp out loudly and snap my head up to Ms. Prideux, a thin length of wood in her hand. The cane had moved so fast that I hadn't seen it coming, and the simple fact was that my attention had been so focused on my sex that my reaction times had been seriously dulled.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Stop fidgeting. 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></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>I stopped moving immediately, but it was a struggle. My snatch still burned fiercely, wanting attention, but in a way it was lucky my breast was now stinging, diverting some of my attention away from the ache between my thighs. I remained still and silent as possible, aside from a few pants, as she moved my body about like I was some sort of ragdoll. I ended up yelping a good few times as she smacked me into the position she wanted, and eventually she stepped back<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"There. This is the sitting position, When I say 'Sit!' you assume this position."</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>I whimpered out loud. Positioned so, my sex was completely exposed, and there was no possible way I could move to rub it, as I tried to, shaking my lower half in a pathetic attempt to stimulate it. As she had intended, nothing. I looked down at my chest, blushing. Even though I was completely exposed, having my breasts, my much larger breasts, pushed out on display was somehow even more humiliating. Their weight dragged me down, and I fought to keep myself supported, an ache already beginning to run up my dipped spine. Jesus, how on Earth was I supposed to maintain this position, so exposed and contorted? My eyes looked up to Ms. Prideux, my mouth opening to utter some sort of plea, before she cut in confidently.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><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, 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> </blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>I listened in silence- or, as near to silence as I could managed, whimpering and panting alternately. She spoke slowly, letting every word sink it to achieve maximum impact. Was this why my breasts had been modified? To please perverted people like this mad woman before me? I grew sick at the very thought, of being just a toy to be moulded, my suffering insignificant. But even as I thought these things, I grew even more dejected. I hated it. I hated it, to be made to hold still, to display my breasts at will... but what could I possibly do to stop her? The feeling of utter helplessness washed over me, followed rapidly by another wave of pain as the cane swished and smacked down three more times, leaving red marks over my enlarged breasts. It was agony, the fiery pain only intensified by my aching, tender tits.<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> <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></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>I didn't need to be told. I knew enough already. I tried to take in her name, what she wanted to be addressed as, but it was difficult focusing on much besides my sex and breasts. I shifted my weight from side to side, in a vain attempt to at least relieve my snatch, but it was useless. There was no way I could touch or rub it, not without obviously changing my position. Another two strikes brought me back into focus, tears welling in my eyes as I looked up at her. Had she not a drop of pity or mercy?<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><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> </blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Now it was my voice being controlled. Not content with taking away my freedom, my hands, my ability to stand or to rub myself, and even to an extent my mind, locking it up with thoughts of fucking, she insisted on taking away one of the few remaining ties to my humanity. My ability to speak. I remained silent, looking up to the sky, my eyes wet with tears. I even missed Caesar as he came back with her drink. I knew I should have yelled and screamed out. I knew I should have told her<em>no, I am not going to do this anymore. Lobotomize me, because I'll never follow your rules. Go rot in hell you sick bitch, and take all your sick perverted friends with you. </em>I should have said it all. I should have said it all...<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Clear so far, Candy?"</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/><strong>"Ruff... Ruff..."</strong><br/>