Girlie and Kym Wilde

Girlie stops being Girlie. She drops to all fours and answers only in barks. Kym Wilde tosses a rubber bone across the floor, and Girlie scurries after it, teeth clamped around the prize when she returns. The bowl of dry kibble hits the ground next; Girlie shoves her face in, crunching and swallowing like the bitch she’s become. She grinds her cunt against Kym’s thigh, hips pumping, slick and frantic. When the skin under her collar flushes hot, Kym slides a cool glass thermometer deep into her asshole, watches the mercury rise, then yanks it out without a word. Good behavior earns her two thick cocks at once—one buried in her ass, the other driving up her cunt—stretching her wide while the leather collar digs at her throat. Every thrust jolts another bark loose until the room echoes with the wet slap of skin and the ragged sound of a girl who isn’t allowed to speak her own name anymore.