Mistress Isabella sat at her opulent dining room table, her dress pooling around her as she delicately picked at her food. A slim, svelte figure, her body was toned and fit, accentuated by the tight lace of her corset. Her long hair hung in loose waves down her back, framing her sharp, beautiful face. She idly glanced over at the pathetic dog slaving away in the corner of the room, his gaze fixated on her.
As if reading her mind, the dog - a pitiful excuse for a man, really - scurried over to her, his tail wagging between his legs. He knew what she was thinking; he had known since he was taken under her wing years ago. She was his Mistress, his everything. His heart raced as he reached the table and dropped to his knees before her, his eyes never leaving her face.
Mistress Isabella smiled cruelly, her pointed teeth glinting in the candlelight. Oh, how she loved playing with his emotions. "Do you think you deserve a treat, puppy?" she purred, her voice like silk.
The dog - a pathetic sounding name he no longer even dared to utter - nodded frantically, his eyes pleading with her. "Yes, Mistress Isabella," he whimpered. "Please, anything you want."
Her eyes glowed with pleasure at his display of submissiveness. "Well then," she said, reaching down to tousle his hair, "Why don't you show me how much you've been thinking about me today?"
Without waiting for a response, she stood up abruptly, her dress swirling around her legs. The dog's eyes tracked her every move as she approached him, his pulse pounding in his ears. She stopped in front of him, placing one hand on her hip as she looked down at him with a mixture of disdain and lust.
"Get on your hands and knees, you disgusting creature," she ordered, her voice cool and clear.
The dog didn't hesitate. He dropped down onto all fours, his body trembling with anticipation and fear. "Yes, Mistress Isabella," he moaned, his voice barely audible.
She stepped closer to him, her breath wafting over his cheek. "Open your mouth," she commanded, running a finger down his chin until his mouth was opened wide.
Slowly, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his as she whispered, "This is the only thing you're good for."
And then, with a final, cruel smile, she plunged her fingers deep into his mouth, forcing him to taste his own cum that had dribbled onto the floor earlier on. "Eat it," she hissed, her eyes blazing with hateful triumph.
The dog whimpered as he tried to comply, his tongue scrambling to clean the mess from his mouth. A hot, searing shame coursed through his veins as he realized that there would be no escape from her contempt. He belonged to her, body and soul, and he would never be anything more than a pathetic excuse for a man, disgraced and humiliated.
