I love the feet of your dog.

During that time, I wanted to try and try was to try everything.

I have always leaned more towards the ground, towards submission, to being on my knees looking at the ground waiting for an order or a punishment.

My beginning was many years ago trying through chats and looking for someone to dominate me until I found a master who liked dog training. That caught my attention and I started to feel comfortable.

I felt increasingly submissive, but I controlled the sessions.

I decided when it started and when it ended without him knowing. Without him realizing nor I either. Something inside me took every opportunity to be above him. The submissive was not me; the submissive was my master.

I started to please him, and that made me aroused. I discovered something new—a new sensation that brought me pleasure, which I will later describe in more detail.

I didn’t know what dog training was, but getting on all fours like a dog, with my head held high and my back arched produced an excitement in my cock that I had never known before.

It produced such excitement that my cock released pre-cum almost without touching me. Almost—not touching me at all. And that’s how it all began…

-The puppy is enjoying it.

I didn’t know whether to nod or not, but it was clear that my cock was in charge at that moment.

-What happened? You’ve stained the floor with the shit your cock produces, haven’t you? That needs to be fixed, stupid.

I didn’t know what to do. I was quite new to obeying. I still had a lot to learn. He grabbed my head (symbolically since it was all cyber), I brought my head closer and started to lick everything that was on the floor... then I backed up with my legs and did the same. My cock wouldn’t stop releasing pre-cum everywhere I was.

I looked up and saw him, with his cock in hand, incredibly aroused, slowly touching himself with a satisfied expression. We stayed like that for a while, but I got tired and made excuses: I was caught, someone came, a phone call...

I cut it off, looked for someone else, and came.

-Dog, you can’t come today, okay? We continue tomorrow.

Of course, of course. He wasn’t going to come today, but I would. Again and again.

We had our sessions when I wanted. The sessions ended when I decided. Who was the submissive?

The sessions became more frequent. He tried to psychologically dominate me, and he succeeded (or so he thought). His excitement grew with each session. I kept giving him more of what he wanted.

I became more submissive, more dog-like, more accommodating. I looked at him like an abandoned puppy. When he was about to come, when he was at the peak of his excitement, I always had a problem: the internet went down, a family member came, I almost got caught...and back to square one.

His releases were pointless. At the beginning of the session, it looked good for him. He thought: I HAVE MY DOG, TODAY A GOOD RELEASE… but no… that night would end badly. He would end up releasing alone, without me.

Every night it was the same; the same ending. I controlled his masturbation. The day I wanted to see his release, I allowed it—yes, it was I who allowed that master to come or not. I let him come or not, according to my pleasure.

That meant that after I cut things off, my release was impressive. As if I hadn’t released for months. He got angry one day, but the next day he came back for me.

When we returned, he punished me... and don’t think he did it the way he wanted... honestly, I also decided here.

I had his mind so controlled that he believed anything I said.

-Dog. Tell me something you don’t like.

And there I understood that it was an open door to control him even more.

My pleasure? Chastity. What did I reply? That I hated it. What did I achieve? That as a punishment, he wouldn’t let me come.

I would make a frustrated face, thus controlling what I wanted at that moment.

Sometimes he wouldn’t let me look him in the face and would force me to raise my arms. He always had a preference for my armpits. One day I discovered his face, without him realizing, when he saw my armpits.

I saw the expression on his face. He became completely immobile. He stopped. He could not react. He froze. There I discreetly asked him if he preferred hair or no hair, and it was one of the few things I allowed him to decide :) since it was another way to have him under my command.

Many weeks had passed, even months. Everything remained the same. He came when I decided, without him knowing. The sessions lasted as long as I wanted and were done when I decided.

One day, I wrote his name in my armpits. I asked for permission to see his reaction. Despite my ups and downs and my lack of respect towards him, I had him in the palm of my hand. He was eating out of my hand and achieving everything I proposed.

That day he told me that if I behaved well, he would comply, and of course, I behaved well :). That day was one of the worst sessions we had. I wasn’t deciding; I wasn’t in control of the situation, and both of us, unconsciously, realized everything.

I told him I had a gift for him, but there were conditions. Yes, conditions, and he didn’t complain a bit.

Stupid, I told him. He didn’t even flinch.

Just one condition: let me see your face and cock when I give you the gift. He thought about it for a second and accepted. It was clear.

I raised my arms and began to show him my armpits. In one, I wrote his name, which I will not mention. His face was a poem. His cock, without me touching it, began to whip, like when he comes without touching himself. His expression was one of amazement, trying to hold back his release, pressing to not ejaculate.

No voice came from his body. He wanted to see my other armpit.

- LET ME SEE THE OTHER ONE TOO.

Very slowly, I began to raise it... very slowly… pretending to put it down and making a sad face. His cock was about to erupt again. I lifted it. I turned my gaze to the left side, as he did to me when he wanted me to kneel on the ground.

He started to come without touching himself while getting off the bed and kneeling on the side. He stayed there for a few minutes. His cock wouldn’t go down. It was clear who was in charge.

My armpits were his weak point. In one, I wrote his name, and in the other: OBEY.