The stream had ended, but the humiliation hadn't.
Amber stood above me, legs still glistening, my lips wet with her piss, my throat sore from swallowing every last drop. My cage throbbed from the flick she gave it—so small now it felt more like a button than a cock. My balls were heavy, full, and completely useless.
She didn't speak at first.
She walked to the kitchen, grabbed a towel, and returned to gently dab the mess from my chin. Her softness always made things worse. It made it real. She wasn't punishing me. She was shaping me.
Amber leaned in and kissed my forehead.
Then she grabbed her phone.
"I know I ended the stream," she said, brushing her fingers through my hair. "But I couldn't resist."
She opened a live video again, this time on a private page, limited to top donors only.
I heard the tone of the live connection.We were back online.
"Hey babies," she said to the screen. "The stream's over, but my little SISSY here hasn't earned his rest just yet."
She looked down at me and smirked.
"Crawl to the living room."
I did. On all fours. My ass still slick. My mouth still coated. My cage still tight.
When I arrived, I saw what she had set out.
A dog bowl.
A leash clipped to a metal ring in the floor.
And a harness—leather, pink, fitted with tail plugs of three different sizes beside it.
Amber clipped the leash to my collar, guided me into the harness, and held up the smallest tail plug.
"Start here. You're going to work your way up on camera. One tail per 15 minutes. And every time I say 'good boy,' you'll bark and wag it."
She pushed the first one in. It was small. Almost nothing compared to what I'd taken lately.
But that wasn't the point.
She positioned me just right for the camera—on my knees, ass raised, bowl in front of me.
Then she filled the bowl.
A disgusting mixture of milk, spit, and the remains of what hadn't been finished from earlier.
She sat beside me on the couch, picked up the remote, and turned on the vibrator base of the plug.
"Go on, puppy. Wag."
I barked.
The tail twitched.
The chat exploded.
Fifteen minutes later, the next plug went in. Then the last.
Each one larger, heavier, more degrading than the last. By the final hour, the tail was wagging violently with every buzz, my bark hoarse, my face smeared with bowl drippings, and my cock still untouched.
Amber panned the camera down to show my cage again.
"Still locked. Still leaking. Still mine."
She reached down and tapped the lock.
"No rest yet, pup. Let's see how much more you can take before sunrise."