I think this must be at least my sixth day here, possibly even my seventh. I don’t want to lose track of time, but it’s so hard to keep up with its passage. Every morning, I’m bathed, fed, and told to relieve myself outside. Afterwards, the training begins. I’m forced to crawl, even trot on all fours, for hours on end. I learn to sit and stay and fetch on command. I keep expecting something more…intimate than the continuous drudgery White Coat puts me through, but other than a steady bit of fondling, no man has ever tried to force himself on me. I appreciate that. Ever since that afternoon beneath the apple tree, I know Master has been trying to go slow with me. I hardly ever jump when he touches me now, and I really do try to be good. I need him to take my obedience for granted, but sometimes…sometimes it’s just so hard. If I let my thoughts fade away, if I just let myself pretend that crawling and begging for a fingered cunt are typical everyday activities, then I can sometimes manage.
