The First Public Walk

Dorothy decides the very next morning.

After feeding you your “breakfast” under the table, she wipes your messy face with a warm cloth, clips the pink leash to your rhinestone collar, and smiles down at you.

“It’s time, Slutcunt. Mommy wants to show off her perfect little bitch to the neighborhood.”

Your fluffy champagne-blonde tail tucks slightly in fear, but Dorothy just laughs and gives it a playful tug.

She doesn’t let you wear anything.

No clothes. No covering. Just your pink collar, the permanent brands glowing on your skin, your pierced and locked clitty with the dripping catheter, and your new tail wagging nervously behind you. Your long dog tongue hangs out permanently, already drooling in thick strings down your chest.

She attaches a small silver tag to your collar that reads in elegant script:

“Property of Dorothy – Free to Use”

Then she slips on a pair of designer sunglasses, a light sundress that barely contains her curves, and a pair of strappy heels.

“Come along, Slutcunt.”

The walk begins in the backyard, but she doesn’t stop at the fence.

She opens the side gate that leads to the quiet, upscale residential street.

The neighborhood is wealthy and private, but still public. People walk their dogs. Joggers pass by. Delivery drivers occasionally drive through.

Your heart hammers as she leads you out onto the sidewalk.

You crawl on all fours beside her — paw-like movements from muscle memory, tongue lolling obscenely, drool dripping onto the concrete with every step. Your tail wags despite your shame, fluffy and eye-catching. The catheter leaks a thin, steady trail behind you as you move.

Dorothy walks slowly, enjoying herself, heels clicking elegantly while you crawl beside her like an obedient pet.

A middle-aged woman walking her golden retriever stops and stares.

Dorothy smiles brightly.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hargrove! This is my new bitch, Slutcunt. Say hello, baby.”

You whimper pathetically, tongue hanging out, and make a wet, garbled sound. Your tail wags faster. Drool slides from your tongue onto the pavement.

The woman’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t look away. She actually stares at your caged, leaking clitty and the fresh brands on your body.

“Very… well trained,” the woman says, voice slightly hoarse.

Dorothy laughs and continues walking.

You pass several houses. Some neighbors come to their windows. A few take out their phones. One young man jogging stops completely, staring openly at your swaying tail and dripping cage.

Every block makes the humiliation burn hotter.

Your tail won’t stop wagging.

Your tongue won’t stop drooling.

Your cage won’t stop leaking.

Dorothy eventually stops at a small public park at the end of the street — just far enough that people can see, but not so public that authorities would immediately get involved.

She ties your leash to a bench and sits down, crossing her legs elegantly.

“Stay. Present.”

You turn, ass facing the path, chest down, tail held high and wagging. Your plugged hole is clearly visible, still slightly gaping from constant use. Drool pools beneath your chin on the grass.

People walk by.

Some stare.

Some whisper.

One older couple actually stops to chat with Dorothy while you remain presented like a bitch in heat.

After twenty humiliating minutes, Dorothy stands and unties you.

On the way back home, she makes you crawl slightly ahead of her so everyone can see your tail, your brands, and your constantly leaking cage.

When you finally reach the front door again, you’re a trembling, drooling, leaking mess.

Dorothy closes the door behind you, then crouches down and strokes your head.

“You did so well on your first public walk, Slutcunt,” she praises. “Tomorrow we’ll go further. Maybe even to the dog park.”

She reaches under you and gives your dripping cage a gentle squeeze.

“And tonight… Mommy’s going to reward her brave little bitch by breeding you on the balcony where the neighbors might hear you whine.”

Your tail starts wagging again — fast and eager.