Let’s take the doggy for a walk

Time halts. You untie her arms behind her back, and retie them by the wrists in front of her chest. You then leave Evellyn alone for a few moments — then again, a ‘moment’ is relative — and go around the nearby streets until you find something in a leatherworker’s shop that strikes your fancy. You return with a sturdy, studded leather collar, which you fasten around her neck. A small metal tag hangs from the front: “Princess.” Satisfied with your efforts, you restart time.

The knight flinches with fresh outrage as she feels the object nestled around her throat. “What is th-“

You give the leash a firm tug, forcing her down onto her knees. Still hobbled as she is and unable to keep her balance, she has no choice but to drop forward onto all fours. ”Time for a little walk, princess,” you say sweetly, ”crawl along now.”

Evellyn’s face flushed a deep, humiliated shade of crimson. ”I will not! You cannot be seriou—“

A sharp tug of the leash cuts off her protest. You start slowly walking down the alley, forcing her to follow along on hands and knees. The position is utterly degrading: Her oil-slicked breasts sway pendulously beneath her, and her ass is raised high, shining keenly in the crack of sunlight that pierces the alley. Wet meat jiggles with every crawling movement. You mouthlessly gesture for her to pass by you, and go in the lead, so you can enjoy the view to the fullest.

”Woof” you command calmly.

Evellyn shoots you a murderous glare across her shoulder. ”I’m not going to—“

Another firm of the leash halts interrupts her, halting her forward progress. “Bark milady. Show you can be a good girl after all, or we’ll stay here until you do. Who knows who might show up. Maybe I’ll have to hand you over to the dogcatcher.”

Evellyn trembles with fury, but eventually swallows her pride and after a long, defiant pause she finally forces out a resentful ”…woof.”

”Louder darling. And let’s keep crawling.”

With a strangled sound of shame, Evellyn begins moving forward again on all fours, crawling along the cobbles. ”Woof…!” Woof!” she says, a little louder. Each bark makes her cheeks burn hotter, while every move of her legs causes the oil between her thighs to squelch obscenely. The noblewoman’s predicament is lewdness given form — you can’t help but be a little proud of how effectively you’ve tamed this beast. It’s like she has a natural gift for obedience; a good girl, with a little motivation. You continue walking at a leisurely pace, leash in hand, admiring the sight of Evellyn’s exposed, shiny back and rear.

”There we go, such a well-trained little pet. I should take you to compete for prizes, perhaps.”

Evellyn breathes out humiliated pants between barks: ”Woof… you fucking bastard… woof!” Her voice is all venom, but she’s powerless to object to her crawl down the alley, completely at your mercy.