In the Doghouse - Chapter 195
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Back when the children began to take their first steps, Courtney arranged for a separate bedroom for her and Richard. This was not unusual for parents, but especially for them—it would be a disaster for the children to accidentally witness their private moments and get traumatized.
The new bedroom was set up in a quiet, seldom-visited part of the palace, near the unused underground dungeons. An old, spacious room was refurbished. If they were going to do it, they would do it properly. Courtney brought in a large bed, a few pieces of furniture with ambiguous purposes, and fixtures on the ceiling and walls to secure restraints.
Various tools she had collected over time were discreetly moved in during the late hours of the night. At the center of one wall, she hung that absurd portrait of Richard, the deranged gift he had once given her. It was a special prison—one meant for the emperor. Courtney gave it a fitting name.
“Do you like your doghouse?”
The word ‘doghouse’ alone was enough to send Richard into a frenzy. It was almost comical how a single word could have such an effect.
Although it was a dry season where fire hazards were a concern, the air in the room was damp, as if during the monsoon season. Courtney, dressed in a sleek night robe, elegantly crossed her long legs.
“Mnnh…”
The ‘footrest’ beneath her hastily swallowed a breath. How unbecoming for furniture used by the empire’s most noble woman to be so defective. Courtney swung the cane in her hand without hesitation.
Fwick—
The cane cut through the air and struck pale flesh. The sharp pain was as intense as the sound, causing Richard’s toes to curl tightly, though he managed to suppress any groans.
Courtney pressed the heel of her foot firmly into his back.
“Your Majesty, do it properly. Who begged to be used, huh?”
“Ah, y-yes…”
Richard straightened his slightly slumped back. Over time, as their sessions grew, Courtney had become an even more skilled master. She effortlessly alternated her tone and titles to humiliate him further. She knew all too well that being struck while addressed as ‘Your Majesty’ was far more degrading than being called a mere mutt.
Courtney folded one knee, stroking the crown of Richard’s head with the sole of her foot. He shivered with delight, tilting his head back. The palms of his hands, pressed against the carpet as he struggled to contain his excitement and pain, were slick with sweat. Courtney didn’t hesitate to press her foot against his handsome face, grinding it as if testing its resilience.
Tonight, she had assigned him the role of a bed bench: to lie still at the edge of the bed, unmoving, and serve as her footrest. That was all. Yet his body betrayed him, with his arousal standing firm, showing no signs of subsiding. Courtney wondered if there was anything that wouldn’t excite this man.
She glanced at the clock out of the corner of her eye. It had been about thirty minutes since she put him in this position. His body would now be sufficiently warmed up, his muscles properly loosened. It was the perfect time to move on to the next phase. Balancing the pacing of their play—not letting it drag nor rush—was the master’s responsibility.
Switching her demeanor in an instant, Courtney spoke in a voice as sweet as honey dripping from a comb.
“My little b***h…”
“…Woof!”
Such impeccable timing. Perhaps even a real dog would learn to crawl and cower after years of being trained. Courtney’s lips curled into a sly smile as she whispered.
“Shall we spread those legs?”
“Woof, woof…!”
Finally. Richard trembled, a shiver running down his spine as Courtney lowered her legs. Slowly, he turned his body, head pressed to the floor, raising his hips high to offer her a clear view. Despite countless nights of use, his backside remained remarkably tight. His smooth, marble-like skin bore no scars, a testament to her careful application of ointments.
With practiced ease, he pulled his b******s apart with both hands, exposing his puckered hole. Courtney leaned forward slightly, her fingers tracing the delicate wrinkles of his a**s. Sensing her attention, Richard applied more force to his fingers, stretching himself further open. The skin around the area turned pale from the pressure.
Slap—!
Her palm landed suddenly, its sharp sound echoing in the room. The blow struck the outside of his b******s, causing his stretched opening to clench reflexively. Still, he didn’t falter, maintaining his posture without a single flaw. Courtney, inwardly satisfied, still unleashed sharp words.
“Did you even clean yourself properly? It smells foul.”
“I-I’m sorry…”
His face, pressed into the carpet, flushed bright red. Richard always reacted with humiliation to even the most trivial accusations—whether about smell or cleanliness. As Courtney’s acting skills improved, his lingering doubts kept him perpetually on edge, unable to fully dismiss the possibility.
Courtney kicked his backside, her voice cold.
“Clean up that filthy hole.”
With even the slightest force, his large frame toppled to the ground. The strength behind the blow didn’t matter. What mattered was her intent. A master could make her slave crumble with a snap of her fingers or endure dozens of lashes without a whimper.
Richard clumsily rolled over, his movements hesitant as he read her mood. Crawling back to her feet, he groveled submissively. Courtney placed her foot firmly atop his golden hair, asking.
“Did you do something wrong?”
“Yes, I did something wrong. Please forgive me…”
“What exactly did you do wrong?”
“I… I didn’t take care of my backside properly…”
Like a dog seeking approval, he looked up at her, his face naturally resting against the sole of her foot. Extending his tongue, he began to lick her sole, his most pathetic form of submission.
Courtney pressed her toes against the corners of his tear-streaked eyes.
Though she played the role of a cold, merciless master, she carefully monitored his condition throughout.
