And yet despite this, Amethyst couldn’t help but consider her fashion choices to be important. She’d had years to imagine how to be the perfect sub, even if she was far away from that idea entirely. Sub fashion was easy though. A basic collar could cut it. Of course she later learned of the care of leather and realized that, no, sub fashion was not easy and required its own level of confidence. Maybe that was why Rebecca sank into the look so easily. Even now, clad in latex from head to toe, with her cropped ears nervously drooping, she looked positively radiant. Like a star Amethyst needed to snuff.
“I’m not sure you should be taking that, Mistress,” Rebecca said. No amount of nerves could hide the excitement in her voice when she gave Amethyst proper reverence. The vole had to admit it sounded nice when she said it. Mistress. Not a title she expected to hold, but no one expects the changes they go through. Sure, she’ll still happily debase herself in front of Helga and be the older pig’s personal cunt rag with all the bratty charm she can muster. But to be revered was another drug entirely.
“Oh?” A demure smile failed to mask Amethyst’s intentions when she took Helga’s peaked cap from the rack. Her mistress was gone for the weekend, another long bike trip that neither her nor Rebecca had the free time to enjoy. Just as well, healthy relationships valued time away from one another.
The pitbull’s blueish-gray fur cheeks flushed red underneath her hood, “Well, it’s just…you know that’s her favorite hat to wear.”
“She has several.”
“And she doesn’t like us touching them.”
“Is that a fact?” Amethyst had, on more than one occasion, been given a red backside for being playful with Helga’s hat. Sometimes brats just have to brat. Taking its visor between her fingers, Amethyst twirls the leather headwear until it fits nearly between her ears. “How do I look?”
Rebecca says nothing. Her eyes say enough, wanting to both praise Amethyst for her look and chastise her that they were going too far. She hadn’t said the safeword yet, so Rebecca was willing to take the risk.
The standing mirror in Helga’s basement dungeon was used for more than just posing. Some of Amethyst’s favorite scenes involved watching her reflection getting railed. But tonight it served its usual purpose, exposing her latest domme attire to her judgement. This time she’d gone with more latex, from stockings and matching opera gloves, to the crop-top that barely covered her breasts. Her stomach and crotch were exposed, though the latter was from taking off the chastity belt. She knew where the spare keys were for emergencies, and Rebecca was much more compliant if she believed a chance in pleasing her mistress directly.
“I think I look good,” Amethyst said, striking a high-kneed pose to give the pitbull behind her an ample view of what she could rarely taste. “Good enough to eat, wouldn’t you say, slave?”
“Yes, mistress,” Rebecca said, her nubby tail wagging fast enough to make the latex squeak.
“Good girl,” Amethyst said, “Now go fetch the strap.” She fetched a ballgag and blindfold while Rebecca went digging. As cute as that athletic butt was, the vole had other plans for the toy. After all, Helga trained her to be an ass girl. At this point, the belt was just for show.
***
I'm certain Helga will get back at Amy for this.
Art by \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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