Chapter 6: Pet Treatment


Ms. Baker’s bare feet made no sound on the stone floor as she returned to the bed.

In her hand, she held something pink—flat, wide, shaped like a ping pong paddle. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through Jenny’s stomach.

She climbed onto the bed with the same deliberate grace she did everything, settling against the headboard. Her legs parted slightly, and

Jenny’s eyes dropped to the thatch of auburn hair between them, the glistening folds beneath.

“Come here, piglet.”

Jenny’s little body responded before her mind could catch up.

The command alone was enough.

Ms. Baker reached forward and unbuckled the gag, pulling the wet rubber from Jenny’s mouth.

She worked her jaw, grateful for the release.
She never had to open her mouth that wide, let alone forced to stay open.

Her wrists remained bound behind her back.

“Good girl.”

The pleasure hit, and Jenny whimpered, her bound arms flexing against the leather. Her pussy clenched around nothing, still slick from her earlier orgasm.

Ms. Baker tapped the pink paddle against her palm. “Do you know what this is?”

Jenny shook her head.
“This is how I tenderize my piglets.” Her smile was soft, almost maternal. “A little sting to warm the meat.”

It makes everything more tender afterward. More delicious.” She patted her inner thigh.

“Now. Come between my legs and show me what that tongue can do.”

Jenny didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t. The word obey hadn’t been spoken, yet it didn’t need to be.

She was her little piglet, and piglets served their owners.
She shifted her weight, maneuvering awkwardly with her arms bound.

Getting onto her knees took effort—her shoulder muscles protesting, her balance unsteady. Challenging yet doable.

She managed, crawling across the rumpled sheets until she knelt between Ms. Baker’s thighs.

The fragrance hit her first. Musky and rich, different from Daisy Moo’s sweet scent. This was sharper, earthier. Jenny’s mouth watered.

“Lower,” Ms. Baker said.
Jenny bent at the waist, her bound arms rising behind her, her face descending toward that wet heat.

The pink metal tail plug shifted inside her with the movement, and she gasped.

Then her tongue made contact.

Ms. Baker’s flavor flooded her senses—salty, tangy, complex.

Jenny licked again, longer this time, tracing the full length of her slit. A soft sigh escaped the nurse’s lips.

The paddle touched Jenny’s right cheek. Tracing slow circles. Then the left.
“I’m going to tenderize your little piggy butt,” Ms. Baker murmured.

Please do. The words rose unbidden in Jenny’s throat. She swallowed them and pressed her tongue deeper. “Please do,” she whispered against the wet flesh.

“Smack”

The paddle connected with her right cheek. It was light—a playful tap, really—but it carried a stimulating sting that radiated outward.

Jenny moaned into Ms. Baker’s pussy.
“Smack”

The left cheek. A little harder.

“Smack” Right again.

“Smack” Left.

The rhythm established itself: lick, smack, lick, smack.

The smack got harder Jenny’s tongue worked feverishly, finding the hood of Ms. Baker’s clit, circling it the way Ducky had taught her earlier.

Each smack sent a fresh wave of heat through her backside. The sting lingered, then transformed into something else—a warm, tingling glow.

Her mind drifted. Strange images surfaced. Being six, standing in the corner of her childhood bedroom, her mother’s wooden hairbrush in hand. The first swat across her pajama bottoms. The tears.

And underneath the tears, something else—a confusing warmth that pooled low in her belly, that made her press her thighs together afterward, not understanding her own body’s response.

The paddle smacked harder across both cheeks, and Jenny cried out, the sound muffled by Ms. Baker’s folds.

“Stay present, piglet,” Ms. Baker said, her voice thick with arousal.

“Your tongue.”

Jenny refocused, lapping with renewed urgency. The heat in her ass throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Her bound arms ached. The plug inside her seemed to pulse.

Ducky watched from the end of the bed. She had removed the strap-on harness, its bumpy shaft still glistening with Jenny’s cum. Her fingers worked idly between her own legs as she observed.

She remembered her own tenderizing. Two months ago, fresh to the farm, kneeling just like piglet, her face buried in Ms. Baker’s cunt. The paddle reddening her little butt.

Remembering the sting, the heat, the overwhelming need to please. She’d cried too. Not from pain.

Now ducky crawled forward.

Jenny’s ass glowed pink, almost matching the paddle. Ms.Baker pausing her swatting.

Ducky placed both hands on those warm cheeks, feeling the heat radiating against her palms.

“She’s ready,” Ducky whispered, though Ms. Baker’s eyes were closed, her head tilted back against the headboard.
Ducky lowered her mouth to Jenny’s pussy.

The sudden sensation made Jenny jolt. Ducky’s tongue was precise, practiced—finding her clit immediately, stroking in tight circles. The dual stimulation was unbearable.

Jenny moaned helplessly into Ms. Baker’s folds.
Above her, Ms. Baker’s breathing changed. Shortened. Her hips began to roll, grinding against Jenny’s face. Her fingers tangled in Jenny’s hair, pulling her closer.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed.

The paddle clattered to the bed beside them. Ms. Baker’s free hand found

Jenny’s tail plug, gripping the flared base. She rotated it slowly, pulling it outward an inch before pushing it back in.

Jenny’s scream was swallowed by cunt. The plug moving inside her—the bulb dragging against her sensitive walls—combined with Ducky’s tongue was too much.

Her orgasm hovered just out of reach, a coiled spring.

Ms. Baker rotated the plug again. Twisted it. The sensation was unlike anything Jenny had ever known—a deep, grinding pressure that radiated through her entire pelvis. Her bound arms strained. Her shoulders burned.

Then Ms. Baker’s hips bucked, and a low groan escaped her throat. Hot fluid gushed against Jenny’s face, coating her lips and chin. The taste exploded across her tongue—stronger than Daisy’s, more potent, more primal.

Jenny lapped and slurped, drinking down every drop. Her mind was white static.

Ms. Baker sagged against the headboard, her grip on the plug loosening. But her other hand still held Jenny’s hair, pressing her face into the soft flesh of her belly.

Holding her there. And Ducky’s tongue never stopped.

The coil in Jenny’s belly wound tighter. Tighter. Ms. Baker’s fingers found the plug again, giving it one final twist—

Jenny came so hard her vision spotted. Her thighs convulsed. A guttural cry tore from her throat, pressed into Ms. Baker’s stomach.

The orgasm ripped through her in waves, each one triggered by Ducky’s relentless tongue, by the plug stretching her ass, by the residual sting glowing across her cheeks.

When it finally subsided, she collapsed sideways, rolling off Ms. Baker’s lap.

The sheets were soaked beneath her. Her butt throbbed with a strange, satisfying heat.

Ducky sat back on her heels, chin glistening, grinning. Feeling proud of herself

Ms. Baker’s gaze found her. “You’ve been patient, little duckling.”

Ducky’s eyes lit up.

From the bedside table,
Ms. Baker produced a small white object—egg-shaped, with a thin cord trailing from one end. A controller dangled at the other end of the cord.

Ducky’s whole body quivered with excitement.
“Hop up,” Ms. Baker said, patting between her legs.

Ducky scrambled onto the bed, positioning herself on her back, her hips in Ms. Baker’s lap.

She pulled her knees to her chest, holding them there. Raising her cute little ass upwards. Her puckered little anus was exposed, her slit already glistening with moisture.

Jenny watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Ms. Baker brought the egg to Ducky’s eggy whole entrance.

It slipped in easily—the girl was dripping wet—and it disappeared with only the cord remaining visible.

Ms. Baker’s thumb found the controller. Press it to switch it on.

Ducky’s back arched. Her mouth fell open in a silent O.

Sliding the thump slider on the controller.
The intensity changed, and Ducky’s hips jerked.

Another adjustment, this time to a random setting—the vibrator pulsed in unpredictable patterns, and Ducky squirmed helplessly, her small breasts bouncing.

Jenny forced herself upright. Her bound wrists made everything harder, but she managed to crawl to Ducky’s upturn ass.

She lowered her mouth to Ducky’s pussy—returning the favor, tasting the familiar sweetness.

Then she swung one leg over, straddling Ducky’s face. The position was awkward, and she nearly toppled.
But then Ducky’s tongue found her again, and she steadied, bracing herself.

This. This freedom. Her parents would be horrified. The thought surfaced from somewhere—her father’s stern face, her mother’s disappointed sighs—and Jenny let it float away. They didn’t matter here.

Nothing mattered except the taste on her tongue, the tongue on her cunt.

Ducky’s cries rose in pitch, muffled by Jenny’s flesh. The vibrator pulsed inside her—Jenny could hear the faint buzz.

Ms. Baker reached for the abandoned strap-on. She pressed the bumpy tip against Ducky’s anus and pushed.
Ducky screamed into Jenny’s pussy. The vibrations of it sent Jenny reeling.

The dildo slid deeper. Ms. Baker worked it in short thrusts, never fully withdrawing, yet burrowing deeper and deeper until the base pressed flush against Ducky’s cheeks.

Ducky’s whole body seized. Her hips bucked wildly. The muffled screams became frantic, desperate—and then she came, her sweet nectar flooding Jenny’s mouth.

Jenny drank it down, lapping gently as Ducky’s shudders subsided.
Ms. Baker let her rest there, the dildo egg still buried, still humming.

Minutes passed before she reached down and tugged the egg free with a wet pop.

Jenny giggled against Ducky’s thigh. Her friend sighed, dreamy and content.

“Laying an egg,” Ducky murmured. “Always feels so good.”

Ms. Baker untied Jenny’s wrists. The leather fell away, and Jenny flexed her aching arms, circulation rushing back into her fingers.

Both pets collapsed lay tangled together on the soaked sheets, breathing in sync.
Jenny’s ass still glowed with warmth. Ducky’s collar charm caught the amber light.

Ms. Baker stood, gathering her clothes. She dressed efficiently—under garments, blouse, skirt, shoes. By the time she reached the stairs, she looked as immaculate.

“You two can sleep here tonight,” she said, pausing at the cellar door. “I’ll come get you in the morning.”

A smile played at the corner of her mouth.

“Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”