Alice was a practical peasant girl. So when she became involved with a handsome nobleman, she knew that the chances of a fairy tale ending with him were unfavorable to say the least. Noblemen “trifled” with peasant girls, they didn’t marry them. She knew that, but something about him made her take complete leave of her senses and her pride. The handsome, young Lord Burlington—her Charles—spoiled her with extravagant gifts, and he was kind and gentle to her behind closed doors. More than the gifts, his actions made her adore him. So much so that when he professed his love to her she believed every word as if hypnotized.
Alas, unwelcome reality forced its way inside the tiny world they’d made together inside a modest, rented room, upstairs in a house well off the beaten path. It was time for Charles to marry and set aside his youthful “indiscretions” for the sake of his highborn family and his rank in society. Alice made a fool of herself pleading with him to do what she knew he could not, but she didn’t care. Was there no way that they could be together? Charles, ever calm and sensible, explained that there was one way, but it might seem a bit “drastic.”
Alice couldn’t even write her name, but she made a delicate “x” on the thin line at the bottom of the contract. When he told her that by making her mark on the parchment she would become his legal property, all the lurid stories she’d ever heard about the masters of houses taking full advantage of their pretty servants made her head spin. She blushed at the thought of him raising her skirts and taking her on the floor of his library, or in the pantry, or anywhere else in the house that he might choose.
It was quite a shock to Alice when she learned that the contract she’d signed not only made her his legal property for life, but also reclassified her status as a domestic animal—a mere house pet! It was a fate reserved as punishment for female criminals, or girls with corrupted values. It wasn’t the role for a well-brought-up girl of any social rank! Yet, through her hasty actions, Alice had found herself condemned to it forever.
Stripped of her clothes by a gaggle of Charles’ eager maids, she was rudely scrubbed in a tub of warm soapy water by many sets of rough hands, and then redressed, if it could be called “dressing” at all, in the vein of a cheap dance hall girl. If the overly-tight, bawdy corset and colorful, striped stockings weren’t enough to insult the pride and dignity of the poor, but still dignified, girl, they trapped her hands and feet in padded, doglike paws that made her unable to stand or to manipulate the simplest mechanism. A door handle, for instance, would be out of the question. With those additions she was utterly helpless, a feeling she’d ever felt before. They attached the most ridiculous doglike ears upon the top of her golden tresses and then buckled a sort of mask over her mouth and nose that looked like an open mouthed dog’s muzzle. Behind the degrading mask, her real mouth was propped open painfully, by an unyielding metal ring. The biggest indignities were saved for last, however.
Tittering and joking with one another, the maids worked simultaneously on both ends of her. The maids by her face smirked to one another as one produced a large, red, rubber, for lack of a better word, rod and asked, “Do you suppose this little wretch’s throat will be able to take the whole thing?”
Alice might have responded in the only way she still could, with an outraged, open-mouthed grunt of sorts, had she not been so suddenly startled by a cold, thick cream against her puckered, little anus and her pinkish cunny. Strong fingers massaged the slippery substance on and around her tight rosebud and her trembling slit. Her eyes wide, she tried to look over her shoulder at what they were doing, but the maids by her face held her still as the one with the rod began to slide the bulbous thing through the ring holding her mouth open. The smooth head tasted of foul rubber and pressed her tongue down to the bottom of her mouth, but she couldn’t focus on that, as at the same time she felt something hard and thick against her greased, lower entrances.
Alice gagged and shook as she was thoroughly penetrated from both ends in all three of her openings. She was barely aware of the maids’ laughter and clapping as she was soon completely stuffed. Sobbing and trying not to choke herself, she could barely see Charles—her legal owner—her master—through her tears, but somehow his pleased look made it better, or at least semi-bearable. The feeling of the collar encircling her bare throat made her shiver, as did his soft words in her ear, “The collar means you’re mine, and the bell will tell me where you are, always. I know it’s not what you wanted, but you can take solace in the fact that you shall never leave my side again.”
***
Though Alice did not regret her decision, it had taken time to get used to being a house pet. She was just starting to get accustomed to answering to her new doggy name, for instance. She had become known as “Neapolitan,” named for the ice cream that he’d treated her to the first night they’d met, and the colors of her pet “outfit”. That outfit had posed many challenges for Neapolitan in of itself. As she came to find out soon after she’d been put into it the first time, the ensemble was quite modern and employed the miracle of electricity.
Panels concealed in her outfit buzzed pleasingly against her nipples at the push of a button on what was called a “remote control,” while the thick, bloated shafts that filled her mouth, her cunny, and her behind did the same. He clearly took a great deal of pleasure in turning the buzzers to their highest intensity right before they received guests, or whenever he went to the other side of the house to visit his new wife. In such situations, Neapolitan, squatting like a proper animal by his side, desperately tried to keep herself from whimpering lest she interrupt the conversations or disturb the tranquility of her betters. That was ostensibly the reason anyway. In truth, she just didn’t want to give the posh lords and ladies the satisfaction of seeing a low-born girl act like a little beast and confirm their views of the lower classes.
So, Neapolitan did her best to be still and quiet even as the objects vibrated on and inside her most sensitive and formally, most-private of areas. Even when she could control her movements and her sounds, the juices that ran down her bare thighs and the scent she gave off she could not conceal. So, the gentlemen smirked with delight and the ladies—especially Master’s wife—scoffed with disgust, and Neapolitan knew that all her efforts to appear more than she was were in vain.
Still, the promise that she would be by his side forever numbed the shame and degradation she felt. What was more practical than giving up one thing to get another? It was the closest someone like her could get to that fairy tale ending.
How Alice became Neapolitan
Alice was a practical peasant girl. So when she became involved with a handsome nobleman, she knew that the chances of a fairy tale ending with him were unfavorable to say the least. Noblemen “trifled” with peasant girls, they didn’t marry them. She knew that, but something about him made her take complete leave of her senses and her pride. The handsome, young Lord Burlington—her Charles—spoiled her with extravagant gifts, and he was kind and gentle to her behind closed doors. More than the gifts, his actions made her adore him. So much so that when he professed his love to her she believed every word as if hypnotized.
Alas, unwelcome reality forced its way inside the tiny world they’d made together inside a modest, rented room, upstairs in a house well off the beaten path. It was time for Charles to marry and set aside his youthful “indiscretions” for the sake of his highborn family and his rank in society. Alice made a fool of herself pleading with him to do what she knew he could not, but she didn’t care. Was there no way that they could be together? Charles, ever calm and sensible, explained that there was one way, but it might seem a bit “drastic.”
Alice couldn’t even write her name, but she made a delicate “x” on the thin line at the bottom of the contract. When he told her that by making her mark on the parchment she would become his legal property, all the lurid stories she’d ever heard about the masters of houses taking full advantage of their pretty servants made her head spin. She blushed at the thought of him raising her skirts and taking her on the floor of his library, or in the pantry, or anywhere else in the house that he might choose.
It was quite a shock to Alice when she learned that the contract she’d signed not only made her his legal property for life, but also reclassified her status as a domestic animal—a mere house pet! It was a fate reserved as punishment for female criminals, or girls with corrupted values. It wasn’t the role for a well-brought-up girl of any social rank! Yet, through her hasty actions, Alice had found herself condemned to it forever.
Stripped of her clothes by a gaggle of Charles’ eager maids, she was rudely scrubbed in a tub of warm soapy water by many sets of rough hands, and then redressed, if it could be called “dressing” at all, in the vein of a cheap dance hall girl. If the overly-tight, bawdy corset and colorful, striped stockings weren’t enough to insult the pride and dignity of the poor, but still dignified, girl, they trapped her hands and feet in padded, doglike paws that made her unable to stand or to manipulate the simplest mechanism. A door handle, for instance, would be out of the question. With those additions she was utterly helpless, a feeling she’d ever felt before. They attached the most ridiculous doglike ears upon the top of her golden tresses and then buckled a sort of mask over her mouth and nose that looked like an open mouthed dog’s muzzle. Behind the degrading mask, her real mouth was propped open painfully, by an unyielding metal ring. The biggest indignities were saved for last, however.
Tittering and joking with one another, the maids worked simultaneously on both ends of her. The maids by her face smirked to one another as one produced a large, red, rubber, for lack of a better word, rod and asked, “Do you suppose this little wretch’s throat will be able to take the whole thing?”
Alice might have responded in the only way she still could, with an outraged, open-mouthed grunt of sorts, had she not been so suddenly startled by a cold, thick cream against her puckered, little anus and her pinkish cunny. Strong fingers massaged the slippery substance on and around her tight rosebud and her trembling slit. Her eyes wide, she tried to look over her shoulder at what they were doing, but the maids by her face held her still as the one with the rod began to slide the bulbous thing through the ring holding her mouth open. The smooth head tasted of foul rubber and pressed her tongue down to the bottom of her mouth, but she couldn’t focus on that, as at the same time she felt something hard and thick against her greased, lower entrances.
Alice gagged and shook as she was thoroughly penetrated from both ends in all three of her openings. She was barely aware of the maids’ laughter and clapping as she was soon completely stuffed. Sobbing and trying not to choke herself, she could barely see Charles—her legal owner—her master—through her tears, but somehow his pleased look made it better, or at least semi-bearable. The feeling of the collar encircling her bare throat made her shiver, as did his soft words in her ear, “The collar means you’re mine, and the bell will tell me where you are, always. I know it’s not what you wanted, but you can take solace in the fact that you shall never leave my side again.”
***
Though Alice did not regret her decision, it had taken time to get used to being a house pet. She was just starting to get accustomed to answering to her new doggy name, for instance. She had become known as “Neapolitan,” named for the ice cream that he’d treated her to the first night they’d met, and the colors of her pet “outfit”. That outfit had posed many challenges for Neapolitan in of itself. As she came to find out soon after she’d been put into it the first time, the ensemble was quite modern and employed the miracle of electricity.
Panels concealed in her outfit buzzed pleasingly against her nipples at the push of a button on what was called a “remote control,” while the thick, bloated shafts that filled her mouth, her cunny, and her behind did the same. He clearly took a great deal of pleasure in turning the buzzers to their highest intensity right before they received guests, or whenever he went to the other side of the house to visit his new wife. In such situations, Neapolitan, squatting like a proper animal by his side, desperately tried to keep herself from whimpering lest she interrupt the conversations or disturb the tranquility of her betters. That was ostensibly the reason anyway. In truth, she just didn’t want to give the posh lords and ladies the satisfaction of seeing a low-born girl act like a little beast and confirm their views of the lower classes.
So, Neapolitan did her best to be still and quiet even as the objects vibrated on and inside her most sensitive and formally, most-private of areas. Even when she could control her movements and her sounds, the juices that ran down her bare thighs and the scent she gave off she could not conceal. So, the gentlemen smirked with delight and the ladies—especially Master’s wife—scoffed with disgust, and Neapolitan knew that all her efforts to appear more than she was were in vain.
Still, the promise that she would be by his side forever numbed the shame and degradation she felt. What was more practical than giving up one thing to get another? It was the closest someone like her could get to that fairy tale ending.
Art by – Nimbletail –
https://www.deviantart.com/nimbletail
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