Conditioning

Dorothy began the real conditioning the morning after the dog park.

She woke you at dawn by tugging sharply on your leash. You were still sticky with dried cum from the previous day, your long tongue lolling out, drool already pooling on the pet bed.

She didn’t speak at first.

Instead, she led you to the large full-length mirror in her bedroom and **** you to kneel directly in front of it — back straight, knees spread wide, tail held high.

“Look at yourself, Slutcunt.”

You stared.

The reflection was no longer shocking. It was simply you now: branded, pierced, caged, tail wagging slowly, tongue hanging out helplessly, drool dripping down your chest onto your locked clitty.

Dorothy stood behind you, one hand gently stroking the base of your tail.

“Repeat after me. Every morning. Every night. Until it becomes truth.”

She spoke slowly, clearly:

“I am not a person.

I am Slutcunt.

Mommy’s leaking bitch.

My only purpose is to serve, drool, and be used.”

You repeated it, voice slurred and wet because of your permanently extended tongue.

“I am n-not a perrrson… I am Slutcunt… Mommy’s leaking bitch… My only purppose is to serve… drool… and be usssed…”

Dorothy smiled and rewarded you by reaching under and gently tugging on your Prince Albert piercing, making your cage twitch and leak.

“Good girl.”

Daily Conditioning Routine

From that day forward, she implemented a strict psychological program:

1. Mirror Mantras (Morning & Night)

You spent thirty minutes every morning and night kneeling in front of the mirror, repeating mantras while Dorothy controlled the vibrating plug in your ass.

“My tiny clitty will never satisfy anyone.”

“I exist to be bred and humiliated.”

“Mommy’s waste is my food.”

“I am happier when I’m leaking and drooling.”

Every time you said a mantra correctly, she praised you and increased the vibration. Every mistake earned you ten strokes with the crop across your branded ass.

2. Identity Erasure

She banned your old name completely.

If you ever hesitated or showed any sign of remembering your past life, she would lock you in the kennel outside for the night with the dogs — no blanket, no water, just the cold concrete and the constant reminder that you were livestock now.

3. Positive Reinforcement Training

Every time you eagerly ate from her ass, cleaned her after she used the bathroom, or presented yourself instantly when she snapped her fingers, she would praise you lavishly:

“Good girl, Slutcunt. Such a perfect little bitch. Mommy’s so proud of how broken you are.”

She would then let you hump her leg desperately until you had a ruined orgasm, reinforcing that pleasure only came from degradation.

4. Public Conditioning

She started taking you on daily walks.

At first around the neighborhood.

Then to the dog park again.

Then to slightly more public areas.

Every time someone stared or laughed, she made you wag your tail harder and repeat your mantras out loud (as best as your slurred dog-tongue allowed).

The humiliation slowly rewired your brain. Shame began to feel like pleasure. Attention — even mocking — began to feel like love.

5. Sensory & Sleep Conditioning

At night she would cuff your hands behind your back and make you sleep with your face between her thighs, tongue resting against her cock or ass.

She played recordings of her voice on loop through a small speaker near your pet bed:

“You are Slutcunt.

You love being a bitch.

You crave Mommy’s waste.

You are only happy when you’re used.”

Your dreams slowly changed. You began waking up humping the air, tail wagging, already leaking before she even touched you.

One evening, after a particularly intense session where she made you thank her for every single load of cum the dogs had given you the night before, Dorothy sat on the couch and pulled you into her lap.

She stroked your head while your tail wagged against her thigh.

“Do you remember your old name anymore, Slutcunt?”

You tried to think.

The name was there… somewhere… but it felt distant. Unreal. Like a story about someone else.

You shook your head, tongue lolling, drool dripping onto her breasts.

Dorothy smiled with deep satisfaction and kissed the top of your head.

“That’s my perfect girl.”

She turned on the TV, pulled your face between her thighs, and let you lap lazily at her while she watched her show.

Your tail wagged contentedly the entire time.

The conditioning was working.

You were no longer pretending to be Slutcunt.

You were Slutcunt.

And you were starting to love it.