She felt like there should be a point where she stopped blushing, stopped being humiliated, but she never found it. She remembered how degraded she had felt, a feminist and a child of feminists, just to be made to wear pink high fuck-me heels. That seemed so long ago now; back before she had been taught that the heels weren’t to walk in just to decorate her, because she didn’t deserve to walk, she deserved to crawl.
Those first weeks when she had crawled everywhere around the house, at her Master’s command, sometimes needing to be dragged by a firm grip on her hair, she had come to be deep friends with humiliation, to feel the rush of embarrassed blood to her cheeks as normal. She had learned how traitorous her pussy was, constantly wet, throbbing with need each time she waited on all fours at her Master’s feet.
In time he had taken her clothes from her too, and that had been a fresh humiliation. Naked and crawling, she had felt barely human, more like a degraded sex-object. He would often fuck her in this position too, penetrating her like a bitch, a female dog, and her still not allowed to stand even after he was done, having to keep crawling with his cum dripping from her fuckhole.
She had guessed the next step before it happened, but it was still a shock when he started inviting friends over and letting them see her naked and crawling. She had blushed to the soles of her feet as she crawled around nude on the floor in front of people she had once thought of as equals, her tits swinging cutely beneath her and her cunt visibly wet. She had wanted to die when they laughed at her, talked over her as if she wasn’t there, or idly stroked her as if she were a household pet.
Her Master’s new command was that she learn to masturbate while crawling, to make her slutty neediness even more obvious to herself and others. It was hard to do. If she reached around her back, her balance was better but it required more stretching. Fingering her fuckhole from the front was much more convenient but she found it made her whole body lean towards the side she wasn’t supporting.
What was strangest was she felt herself *wanting* to get good at this, to please her Master and be a good pet. When she was able to crawl quickly without taking her fingers out of her dripping bitch-hole, she found herself beaming with pride and looking to her Master for approval. The first time he told her she was a good whore she found herself orgasming with happiness.
He told her when she could go a whole day without stopping masturbating, no matter what she was doing, he would reward her by letting her get dressed one last time and go down to the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages. There she would change her name legally to Fuckpet, get new ID in that name, and then they would go together to buy her a pretty collar with a nametag for her new life…
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