The old hag takes care of you herself (straight, femdom)

You’re woken up with the searing pain in your whole lower body that has become your standard first impression of any new day. Mistress has kicked you in the balls and you lie rolled up to a ball in your basket on her kitchen floor until the pain subsides. It's not that bad though, just a burning sting. She's in a good mood today, on the bad days, she kicks you so hard you barely can stay conscious.

She stands above you impatiently waiting until you more or less recovered – you don't take a second more than absolutely necessary, you learned that lesson early on. Get on your knees look up to her and make a barfing noise. You haven't talked since you're here, the cold metal collar with the green gemstone around your neck prevents that by making your vocal cords feel like mush every time you try to make a human sound. Like it prevents you from fighting back. Of course you tried, when you woke up here in the old woman’s house, naked, on the cold kitchen tiles after she made you pass out in your apartment. Your first instinct to attack her was thwarted immediately as a wave of nausea flooded your body and made you vomit and cry like a baby. Same happened when you saw an opportunity to run few days later - as soon as her house was out of sight, you collapsed, threw up, pissed yourself and could only crawl back, every meter passed making you feel a little better again. She had expected you, beat you brutally with a bull-whip and left you outside in your own piss and vomit for the night, cleaning you off whit ice cold water from the hose in the morning. You never tried to run again.

And ever since when you harbour ideas of **** against your mistress or running away or a major disobedience, the wave of nausea coming from the gem in your collar – your dog collar as she calls it – take you down in seconds.

You don't know for sure how long it’s been, you tried to keep track of days but your new monotonous life in her services makes it hard. The seasons have changed back to what they were so it’s about a year. You think. You've been harbouring thoughts of someone coming and rescuing you. Your family must look for you, right? But whether the old woman erased her tracks or actually changed reality again to make this – you being her dog – the way the world has always been, nobody has come to help. And so it is.

The old woman made true of her vow. After turning you into a man, she didn't let you return to the world to harm anyone. She took you in, under her firm, merciless control as her **** and her dog.

She grins down at you barfing.

“A good morning to you, too, Puppy.”

She snaps her fingers and you follow her dutifully. On all fours – you never stand up unless she tells you to, outside of the house.

It's small one, hardly more that what you'd call a cottage, surrounded by woods. You have no idea where you are, haven't left the near vicinity of the house since you're here, haven’t seen a living soul. You missed people at first, but for a while now you feel a deep connection to your mistress. You don't know if it's magical, Stockholm Syndrome or actual dedication to the woman who cares for you, but you're not really missing seeing anyone but her.

She nods as you reach a big tree and you lift your leg without hesitation. She makes you pee like a dog since day one. You fought against it, but it was useless and by now you're quite used to it, and as you focus your thoughts on your crotch, you feel the metal cage around your cock again. You're so used to it by now, you normally don't – you woke up with the chastity cage around your cock on the first day as your only piece of clothing other than the collar. And it hasn't come off ever since. Of course it was one of the worst things about your new life at first, but that too, has become normal. You mostly don't feel the metal any more, it is a natural part of you, now. Only when Mistress plays with your cock or does things that actually make some blood flow into the caged cock does it get hard to bear, but you’re a well trained puppy and rarely get hard any more these days. You get excited when she rewards you by letting you do some of your favourite chores like washing her underwear or massaging her feet, but rarely does your small dick ever get hard any more as a sign of it. And you're really glad now that it’s so small. You don’t want to imagine how bad it would feel if you actually had a cock worth mentioning.

You’ve learned your lessons by now. You're obedient, modest, your whole life now serves no other purpose than satisfying the needs of a woman. Your mistress. You're a much better man than you ever were.

But of course you’ve lost your chance that learning your lesson would lead to a better life. This isn’t about that any more, this is punishment. Life-long. That you deeply and honestly believe you deserve by now, your conditioning was very effective in that. You deserve nothing but the life of a dog for your mistress.

You relax your muscles and pee against the tree like a good dog when ready. You look up to her expectantly. You know the morning routine and as she lifts her skirt, you eagerly open your mouth and catch her golden stream with it, swallowing every drop of her piss, cherishing the musky, salty taste of your only breakfast.

Another thing you fought against in the beginning. Not any more. You know it's an honour for a mere dog to be fed the mistress’ piss, and you're deeply grateful for it now.

You lick your lips when she’s done, look up and move closer when she nods. you wouldn't dare doing this without her permission, but she always gives it. You eagerly start to lick her lips clean, the small hole of her urethra and when that is done, daringly kiss her clitoris. She doesn't object so you carry on with your morning chore.

You never really guessed how old she is, thinking of her as an old hag from the first day.

Before your transformation into a woman and then a human male dog, you you wouldn't have looked at her twice never in your life considered her an object of your desire. But since you are honoured to live under her roof you of course got to know her closer. Her age is… somehow indeterminable. The image of the old hag she gave you whenever she was in public doe not seem her real self but a façade she builds. Magically? Or just by tricks of posture and acting? You don’t know but you know her in private, now. Usually when she's around you, like now, your mistress looks like a woman in her forties or fifties, half as old as you might have estimated her when you met her. Mature, Settled, Confident, a firm body that doesn't look like it aged but matured into some state of physical sexual perfection no 20 year old could ever reach.

Old you would have called her a Hot MILF, but old you was a jerk, and she would have never granted you the honour to see her in this her most beautiful form.

In moments like this, when she allows you to treat her and your tongue lets waves of lust roll over her, her mature body radiates energy, light, aura, power. You don't know what to all it, when you look at her in these situations, it's no use to even try guess her age, she's like an angel, timeless, beyond human comprehension.

As your lips around her clit, sucking her to bliss, you feel a warmth running though you. You adore her. Admire her. You wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

You know your life here is punishment and you still accept it as such, but since your first day here, when it felt like the worst fate possible, you've not just grown used to your new live, you're attached to it. When the teachings of humility you learned here settled in, you could accept that this is your place. This is what you deserve. And when that happened, you could start to enjoy the good things about it. And as you did – your life here – despite still being punishment - is the best life you could hope to lead. Because it’s what you deserve to be. And your mistress deserves to rule this life.

As she lets out a deep moan that seems to reverberate through you and the woods around, and squirts her sweet juices into your hungry mouth, you know THIS is the best thing you’ve ever had, the most valuable, productive use of your existence. The only thing proving your worth.

She pats your head and smiles down, taking you to the hook dangling form the tree you peed against. You obediently let her shackle your hands and attach you to the hook with the shackles, your feet barley touching the ground. She takes her cat o’nine tales and grinningly start whipping your back and ass. You begin to cry and scream after a few hits with the whip – it hurts like hell, but you say a silent prayer that she’s not angry at you. When she's in a good mood, you never get more than ten strokes with the whip. Today you don't deserve punishment and ten it is, every single one burning itself deep into your flesh. You'll never get used to this pain. But you also feel your cock twitch in its metal cage. You don't know if she conditioned you into a masochist or just set your deepest desires free but you can’t deny your excitement rising with the agony as the whipping continues.

You're out of breath, your cheeks tear strained as she lets you down, your back and ass burning. You sink down to all fours and kiss her feet to hank her. Honestly. You are deeply grateful for this. You'll get two more over the course of the day. If you're a good boy and don’t earn more. It's not punishment for anything specific, it’s just part of your new existence. Pain and suffering you earned in your old life. Karma. You know it and you accept it. Its true, You do deserve it. Without it, this life would likely be heaven, and you don't deserve heaven. This piece of hell is your fault and your fault alone.

She washes you with the hose, the water is ice cold. It stings on your burning back, but after after moments it feels good, easing your pain even. You dry in the sun and then follow her into the house, were you prepare her breakfast – one of the chores for which she allows to you to stand upright. As she eats, you kneel at her feet, looking up admiringly. You don't get breakfast, her piss and pussy juices filling your belly make you happy - your first meal of the day will be a bowl of slimy porridge for lunch, on the kitchen floor, as it always is.

When she’s done, she lets you get her strap on cock, making you smile and your eyes gleam with anticipation. She’s in a really good mood today. She makes you bend over the kitchen table; eagerly you spread your cheeks. Of course this was another thing you resisted at first, and it’s another thing your training here has let you accept as normal part of your inferior existence. Now look forward to it as the best part of your service to your mistress. It was so silly to resist.

Seh shoves the hard rubber cock - huge compared to your own tiny Wiener, of course, but even compared to real men quite big - deep into your bowels, unlubed and without preliminaries. You're a good butt slut, you don’t need any of that any more. You close your eyes, feel the cock fill you, and moan luscious. It’s the closest thing you get to sex in this life and you have learned to love being taken like this, mercilessly, without a care to your needs. It hurts – like hell, in fact. But it also feels good to be filled, to be used. To be a sexual object. To be her pussy, her slut, her woman.

As the big cock massages your prostrate, you need to focus all your will to suppress your cock getting hard. You don't want hat. With your cage that obviously would hurt, a good puppy enjoys his mistresses' attentions without getting a bothersome boner. Small as it would be in your case. You manage it. You're quite good at keeping your cock under control - another very valuable lesson old you would have needed badly.

After a while of hard, pumping strokes into your bowels, you feel a warmth from your balls through your limp cock and the thin trickling string of clear cum dribble from your dangling cock. A sissi orgasm, mistress calls it. It's totally different from anything you experienced as a man – or a woman - without an erection, with no proper ejaculation, it's just a warm, pleasant feeling - an orgasm appropriate for a ****.

Mistress cackles behind you, slaps your ass and lets you lick your thin puddle off of the kitchen table before she get dressed and leave you alone. You see the change in her, her posture changing, her face getting wrinkles as she puts on her outside persona.

You don't know where she goes to, what she’s doing – maybe searching or other toxic men to give a chance to change their life? Or she has a fortune teller shop, using her magic to make people, believe she's a fraud. You don't know. You don't care. She’s your mistress that 's all that counts. When she’s gone you go through the chores, do the dishes, clean, and when ready, kneel and wait. you don’t have no purpose without her and don’t want to. She is your life.

When she comes back, she will whip you again. You can't wait. As long as she’s here, it doesn't matter if he tortures you. You hope she'll let you eat her pussy again, maybe even fuck your ass again. You shake your head. Twice in a day would be too much to ask,

You wait for her in your basket, dreaming of what you can do for her and what she’ll do to you. After a while shivers run down your spine... What if she doesn't come back. What if she abandons you? She's been gone for – it feels like Days now, you feel so alone. You hear yourself whimper. Cry. Mistress is gone, something must have happened to her, this is the worst possible...

When you hear her at the door and run over on all fours, barking at her happily.

Mistress is home. All is well. Your life has meaning.

The End

Or is it?

[I will not accept chapters before the endings to not change the points, but if you feel inspired to write a story about the hero/ine's life after my final chapters feel free to write them.]