End: The Life of a Good Bitch

The webcam show ended ended. Her mistress unhooked the chain, but not the collar. On hands and knees, Lois Lane was led back to the door.

A part of Lois wanted to pull back against that chain—not so much because she would be going out, naked except for the tail plugging her ass—but because a part of her, the part that had prompted her to follow her instinct and lick her mistress' pussy, to strip down in the car, to do all of this—was afraid that this was it, the end, that they wouldn't play anymore.

"C'mon puppy. Ya gots to go home. I gots work," the black woman shook her greying dreads. "But don't ya worry. This ain't the end. Ya's gonna be a good bitch..."

Out into the cold night air. Cement hard against her palms. Lois looked about, and saw no one. The old woman, utterly unconcerned, led her to the car.

"In."

Lois did as she was told.

It was amazing how right that felt. Just doing as her mistress told her. Hopping onto the seat, where her old clothes were, cold and familiar.

"Where ya live, puppy?" Her mistress asked.

Lois told her. She couldn't deny her mistress anything.

"Get dressed. Ya goin' home. For now."

The collar stayed on. Lois slid the t-shirt on over her bare breasts, pulled on the jacket. The the black thong panties came up just under the plug, so that was fine. The tight pants were something else. The reporter couldn't find a way to pull them up without covering her tail. At the end, she had to wrap the soft, feathery fake fur around her waist and pull the pants up as far as she could. The tightness of the fabric almost pressed the plug in deeper.

They drove in silence, Lois Lane petting her tail, wondering what was going to happen to her. Was this really the end? She didn't want it to end. The rational part of Lois knew that she couldn't just stay 'Puppy' forever. She had a life, a job, bills...Superman and the Daily Planet and that whole investigation she had started tonight and never finished. It just wasn't reasonable to expect to drop all that and...what? Live as some random old woman's sex **** for the rest of her life? The life of a good bitch?

A block from Lois Lane's apartment building, they pulled into an underground garage. Her mistress muttered as she circled around, before pulling in to a secluded spot.

"Come 'round here now," the old woman said, as she opened the driver's side door.

Lois did as she was told. Her mistress had her pants down, bent over the seat, her pussy a dark grizzled slit. The devil on Lois Lane's shoulder seemed to whisper dark things to her.

"Lick me," she said.

Happily, Lois dropped down and buried her face in that black ass. She listened as her mistress told her how it was going to be, from now on. Once a week, she would pick Lois up outside her building. 6 PM sharp. And then she would be Puppy, until her mistress was tired of it.

"But ya keep that collar on," the old woman warned.

Lois wished she could wag her tail. Her heart pounded as she thought of the weeks and months ahead. What would her mistress plan for her? What would she have to do? Just the thought of it made her pussy tingle. The reporter ran her tongue the full length of her mistress' slit, and on over the asshole.

"Yes, mistress!" Lois Lane said...and as her night ended, so far mentally from where it had began, the reporter knew that she meant it. That this was the best that she could hope for, for as long as she could make it work: the life of a good bitch.