Spring Stories (Hannah's Life)

Important note:

All characters are 18 years old.

The author does not condone any form of violence in real life.

Jenkinses and Hannah do NOT interact in the sexual way.

Every character is consenting adult.

Day 7

This is probably the last day that Hannah remembers. Initially, she counted these days to figure out when her parents would break and let her start over and live her carefree life again. And when she realized that her parents were serious, she started counting to figure out how long she had already been in this.

The 7th day started for her with a pleasant breeze. She didn't know what hour it was, but from the heat, it was clear she woke up closer to midday. Hannah, with her soles sticking out of the doghouse, woke up almost at the same time as Radcliffe. Nakedness and especially bare feet didn't bother her anymore. After the last night, she had practically accepted her new self. No more arguments, no more witty phrases. She is Hannah. An obedient girl, stripped of everything, living in the yard. She eats what she is given, even if she doesn't want to. She tries to do what she is told, even if it's impossible.

Doing her routine warmup, she no longer hesitated to expose everything that nature had endowed her with. Poking out her buttocks in a cat pose, she noticed that they had just barely woken up. Sunday is a lazy day. Hannah had nothing to occupy her mind with. She no longer tried to come up with some witty plans. She obediently sat on the porch and thought about what would be prepared for her. Her new haircut felt extremely unusual. Having lost the last bit of individuality, Hannah could now be distinguished only by her physique, which still remained gorgeous, as well as by her collar. This collar, though, interfered a lot, especially when turning her head, but Hannah had already accepted the fact that she no longer had clothes. And she would accept this too.

Her bald head fit surprisingly well into her new "image", it became very easy for her. No need to think about what will happen to her hair, no need to comb and cut. Even bathing can be done once a week. She had never felt such lightness in her entire life. She was always afraid that pieces of food or saliva would accidentally get on her hair, but now she, like an old man on the docks, blew her nose into her hand and just wiped it on her belly, the muscles on which had become much sharper.

This very baldness gave the skin, which had been covered by hair, a chance to warm up in the sun for the first time. That's how Hannah lay, sunbathing in the sun. There were no more fears like "I'll get too tanned". Lying in the sun was pleasant and she did it, because you never know when you'll feel that good next time. Radcliffe joined her too. His fur acquired a strong musky smell in the sun, but it didn't bother Hannah. She stretched out her legs and relaxed, enjoying a body without hair and shame, while the pans rattled in the kitchen.

After a while, someone came out. Hannah, who was already dozing off, was kicked in the ribs without any pity. Out of habit, Hannah fell off the stairs. Raising her head, which was rather difficult to do in this collar, Hannah tried to understand why she was kicked, but only saw a sleepy person still in pajamas. Another person was still sleeping in the room.

-- "Hannah, you don't have a bowl, but Radcliffe does. And today I'm not going to stand over you and top it up. So here you go."

With these words, she walked away and brought a small pot with her. There was something strange in it. It wasn't white sludge like yesterday, but something else. At the bottom was meat with bones, and on top was jelly. The gelatin, which formed during the long boiling of the meat, solidified the broth, and now this greasy slimy thing was going into Radcliffe's bowl. Yes, Hannah might have accepted the fact that she is no longer quite a full-fledged person here, but she couldn't fully convince herself.

She winced at the sight of it, but offered her palms. Seeing disgust on Hannah's face, she simply turned the pot upside down, tapped a couple of times on the sides, and the jelly slid out onto the floor. Hannah looked uncomprehendingly. Then she almost started moving her lips, but was interrupted.

-- "You are forbidden to talk. Grandma called. Says when we take Radcliffe, we should grab you too. And good dogs don't talk. So go on, learn. Today we're also going to watch your walk on all fours."

There's no need to imagine Hannah's reaction. She would have cried, but dogs don't cry at human words.

Then, grabbing the pot, she left the dog and Hannah alone on the porch. Radcliffe was eating, making disgusting noises. Hannah looked at her meal. The pieces of meat were now on top, frozen in the jelly like mosquitoes in amber. She reached out her hands, but quickly hid them between her legs. She didn't know what reaction to expect, even if there was no one around. She slowly leaned over this disk. Her nose touched the cold surface. Hannah felt a strong, concentrated smell of broth. Without salt, without spices, just meat and water, which was better than oatmeal, but worse than probably anything she had shoved into her mouth in her life. Her nose began to sink deeper and deeper into this meat marmalade. She breathed with difficulty, but took the first piece with her mouth. Yes, everything was just as it smelled. Very bland, but the pieces of meat were the first meat she had eaten in the last 2 days. Her stomach growled approvingly. The collar pressed harder and harder with every angle Hannah had to bend her neck just to bite off another piece. She closed her eyes and finished everything down to the crust, even feeling the crunch of dirt and sand on her teeth when she started licking the step.

Week ago, she had just stood here and couldn't even imagine that she would have to lick the jelly off the floor. But what is the point of remembering that life?

Without eyebrows, even the slowly trickling sweat got into her eyes and burned. She was stripped of her hair, but the problem they created was not gone. Maybe it was amusing to watch how Hannah would have to get used to another aspect of her low existence?

Her stomach growled out of habit, but she didn't run to that pit she had dug recently. No, dogs aren't shy about this. They pee right on a tree. And right now she was watching her roommate masterfully perform this intricate ritual. She walked over to the willow, still on her feet. Then she sat down on all fours and stretched out her leg. She tried to force herself to do it, but just couldn't get herself to it. As a result, she stood like that for about 10 minutes.

Then, tired, she rested her leg against the tree bark. The bark bit unpleasantly into the girl's skin, but she didn't back down. After a while longer, the stream finally started. But, in contrast to Radcliffe, her body wasn't quite adapted to this, so the stream very quickly went down the girl's leg and then along her torso. She wanted to run away from there in disgust, but what if today she didn't have time to do it again? She continued to pour out the stream trickling down her leg. She stood up and mentally expressed gratitude for the first time. If her furry pubis was still here, it would have been completely soaked in urine. And now the liquid just rolls off her, leaving only an unpleasant smell. Remembering how Radcliffe did it after bathing, she tried to shake her whole body so that the remaining liquid wouldn't interfere with her walking, but she only lost her balance and fell into the thick grass.

She walked out from under the branches of the willow, with urine on her legs and stomach, slowly dripping in small stinky drops. They were standing on the porch. One of them, still not used to the sight of Hannah, wanted to look away. Previously, Hannah had an expression on her face that almost shouted she was better than everyone else. Scarlet lips that seemed frozen in a smirk, eyes that looked at everyone from the bottom up and were almost always suspiciously squinted. Her body always assumed the most confident poses. Back straight, hands either crossed on her chest or resting on her waist. Hannah was one of those people you look at and reluctantly look away.

And out from under the willows came a strange creature. It kept its hands either on its groin, as if covering itself up, though everything was always visible, or down by its seams. Her neck, tired from unfamiliar feeling, was bent as much as the collar's leather allowed. She was always hunched over, as if about to run on all fours at any second. Her steps, previously imposing, now seemed rather ridiculous: her foot first tested the ground with its toes and only then lowered the heel. Her face now looked as if she had been stripped of her intellect. Her mouth was always slightly open, showing her lower teeth, her eyes looked down at her feet, either so as not to step on anything or because she wasn't told to raise them.

Seeing the whole process, the woman, on the contrary, was in ecstasy. Hannah peed like a little dog all by herself, even without threats. For this, she took pieces of dog food from her robe and held out her palm to Hannah. Seeing more food, Hannah quickly got down on her knees and licked the hand. The other person, although not completely used to the new behavior, was still delighted as well.

Despite this, instructions began strictly:

-- "From now on, in our presence, you walk on all fours. Palms down, soles pointing up, back straight, butt poked out, head looking straight ahead. Is that clear?"

-- "Y-yes," Hannah answered and immediately regretted it. Hannah was pushed off the porch while still sitting on her knees. She plopped into the grass, but quickly returned to the pose.

-- "With us, or with any person, you are forbidden to talk, clear?"

Hannah learned her lesson and just nodded. The woman grunted approvingly.

The companion stepped down from the porch and pulled a leash from a pocket, then attached it to the collar. The woman grabbed the most flexible branch from the nearest willow. It was as long as Hannah's arm.

-- "Get on all fours."

Hannah tried to get comfortable. To her right was the man, whose head was turned to the right because Hannah reeked of piss. But he and the woman found it rather amusing. Hannah, paying no attention to their giggles, managed to get on all fours.

A crisp sound of a branch hitting the girl's skin rang out. Hannah squeaked, but another hit followed on her buttocks. Now a cross of two red stripes adorned the place.

-- "Ass up. Back straight. And no sounds."

Hannah did everything as asked, but suddenly got hit again, this time right on the spine.

-- "Back."

For Hannah, walking with a straight back became unusual.

Then the leash was pulled upward. Hannah tried to adjust it with her hand so it wouldn't choke her, but got hit on the hand again.

-- "Do dogs use their hands, Hannah?"

Hannah could only shake her head, scattering tears left and right. Hannah had never been spanked. She had never been slapped. And now she is being punished, and not for sneaking boys out at night, but because she can't arch her arm right.

The person leading her, who didn't even notice Hannah's pitiful moans, went straight ahead. First, Hannah stretched out her right hand. Her palm landed on the grass. Suddenly a voice shouted:

-- "Stop!"

She stood to Hannah's left. Now both adults were looking down at her from above. The end of the stick was put against the girl's sole. This turned out to be even more painful than the whipping.

-- "You move your left foot and right hand together."

Hannah tried again and got hit in the ribs. This turned out to be even more painful. She shrieked and got a second red stripe, literally a centimeter away from the first one.

-- "Again!"

A step was taken. Hannah tried to take a step and got hit in the ribs. Again, again, and again. Some hits landed on her nipples, which forced her to drop to the ground and sob, but a second hit to the same nipple quickly brought her back to her senses. At some point, the space ran out and the whipping started horizontally, hitting all the previous marks. From the pain, Hannah had to bite her tongue and arch her back.

But after 20 hits, she took her first correct step. She already wanted to take the second one and got hit on the butt.

-- "Can't you see he hasn't started walking yet?"

An hour of training later, Hannah's back was covered with a sieve of hits. Her ribs were already red, as was her ass. Her thighs were striped too. Sometimes her labia were accidentally clipped. Hannah was only given time to catch her breath and the beating continued on her heels. Her soles burned the most. And she still had to walk on them through the grass! Maybe she should just walk on all fours all the time from now on then?

Her palms were green, and the branch was almost broken. Strike after strike, and finally, Hannah took a stroll from the porch to her doghouse. And even here she showed grace, stepping like a cat rather than a dog. But it was accepted as satisfying.

By the end of the day, 2 branches had already been used up. Now her stomach was striped as well. These stripes were not deep and the skin would return to normal in a day or so, but it burned fiercely nevertheless. Hannah wanted to drink, but had no right to ask. Sweat kept getting into her eyes without her eyebrows. Now she regretted not having her furry bush down below. That way, hits to the pubic area would have been less painful. But now, Hannah could already move as if she hadn't just relearned to walk on all fours. Her soles were resting for the first time all day, only occasionally taking hits from branches. Her palms, on the contrary, hurt from having to support the girl's entire weight. Her knees, which were beyond ever being washed clean, turned even blacker and greener. She now walked from one fence to the other without taking any hits.

The sky was darkening. The adults, although they missed their day off, were just as exhausted as Hannah. Resting, Hannah didn't dare lie down on the floor, but only lowered her head onto the grass and stuck out her tongue, which had grown dry. She wanted a drink. But then she was led away again and stopped near the doghouse. Radcliffe had been watching Hannah's drill with almost squeamishness the whole time. How she moved from one fence to another. But then night fell. The sweat dried quickly and it got cold again. Hannah, reeking not only of urine but also of sharp sweat, climbed into her doghouse, where Radcliffe was already lying. He, sensing the smell of urine, went to sleep on the porch with a disgruntled muzzle.

"Well, fine, I won't have to freeze my feet," Hannah thought.

But her thirst didn't go anywhere. The adults had locked themselves inside the house long ago, and only one option remained. She walked over to the pond and bent down the way she was taught today: butt up, back straight, shoulder blades pinched. She stretched out her lips and drank the life-giving water. Even though it tasted like a swamp and not only Radcliffe but also birds drank from it, this water seemed like the best thing in the world to her.

She climbed back into the shack and collapsed onto the trampled grass. Her whole body hissed, but the grass, like the softest mattress, embraced the girl and seemed to ease the itch. That's how she fell asleep.

Stories of Spring

Hannah spent the rest of May in this exact state. Not fully accustomed to the new sensations, she sometimes acted foolishly. For instance, she never really learned how to walk on all fours in the presence of the adults. She could walk, of course, but timing it right to assume the pose before being caught on two legs was difficult. Day in and day out, Hannah was scolded, taking out everything that happened or didn't happen at work. The man, who initially distanced himself and didn't want to see her like that, eventually got into it and started whipping her even more often, just as a discipline measure. They grew tired of walking over to the willow every single day to grab a branch, but educating Hannah was more important. It was harmful to the willow itself, and it looked absurd: Hannah had to tremble and wait on all fours while a branch was ripped off and all her main areas were thrashed properly: chest, ass, spine, stomach, thighs, but especially her heels and ribs, which already hurt because of the emaciated girl's condition. But literally about 12 hours later, the marks would fade.

The hits weren't too hard, but to Hannah, who ate once a day if she was lucky, this felt like torture.

Once a week she was trimmed and washed, just like the first time, but the screaming decreased, though sometimes a tearful Hannah opened her mouth full of saliva and it trickled out of her in a thin stream.

Hannah couldn't stand or talk; she only ate in the morning, and drank from the pond, which didn't get any cleaner day by day. But once a week Hannah was given vitamins dissolved in some nutritious liquid from Radcliffe's bowl with leftovers he hadn't finished. On other days, it was leftovers from the previous evening or porridge traditionally poured into Hannah's palms, or if there was no time, just poured onto the porch, and Hannah would lick it all up. On bad days, for example if the adults went to a cafe in the evening, she didn't get any food at all. Radcliffe, meanwhile, ate his prepared dog food from the bowl.

The dog actually started avoiding the girl. Hannah regularly relieved herself on or near the tree, and even though the dog didn't consider this marking territory since the urine smelled different, he still wasn't happy inhaling those fumes every day, especially considering that Hannah still hadn't learned to pee without getting urine all over her entire body. In the last few weeks before being sent to the farm, Radcliffe never even stepped into Hannah's doghouse. Hannah had to massage her soles just so she could still feel them.

Early in the chilly morning, routinely getting up, warming up, and glancing at the door to make sure the adults didn't come out while she was standing on her feet, she would notice that Radcliffe was still sleeping on the porch. Then she would assume a sitting pose and run on all fours to the porch, lying down in the upcoming sun to sunbathe and wait for food. Radcliffe also had to wait there for his portion, but he tried not to even look at her extra times.

And so, after eating, the girl would go to the toilet, each time at a new willow tree, walking clockwise, and then lie down on the grass near the doghouse and look at the sky. Sometimes there were no clouds at all, and out of boredom, Hannah would put her tired heels in the pond. The sensation was strange, because she also drank from there, but usually all the dirt and dust settled, and anything that floated to the surface Hannah would throw away.

Then tasks would be given and supervisors would leave for work. It could be something serious and hard, like weeding or something to keep the girl busy for hours, like counting all the branches of the willow. But sometimes they told her nothing, and that was the absolute worst. Work kept her head occupied. She didn't think at all, and her main concern was not getting another 30 hits on her skin. But when there was no work, Hannah asked stupid questions like: "Why are they doing this to me?" and "When will this end?" On days like those, she cried and tried to occupy herself with something (though soon she would stop asking questions altogether).

She came up with a simple and amusing game: she would find Radcliffe wandering away from her somewhere behind the willow and chase him. Imagine yourself in Radcliffe's place! You're chewing grass or watching butterflies or just enjoying a carefree day, and suddenly some strange creature comes rushing at you. Taught by a hundred rods, it had learned to sprint on all fours much better than you, even though you had your whole life for that. And now you're running away from her, because otherwise she'll tackle you to the ground and start petting you. For Hannah, deprived of any affection, this was simultaneously a way to brighten up her grey days and hug at least someone, even if that someone was an old smelly dog.

No, don't get me wrong, Radcliffe is a wonderful friend and probably would soon rival Hannah's intellect if he lived here just a bit longer, but to the old Hannah - whom it's even a shame to call Hannah looking at this creature - that would have been disgusting. What if he had fleas? And the smell would stay! And after all, it's unhygienic! But the present girl has no such worries. Now, Hannah lying down and hugging a dog, smiling with all her teeth and making strange sounds, had no hair, her smell had become much worse than a dog's or any other creature's nearby, and Hannah had completely forgotten the word hygiene! And she couldn't even pronounce it.

You see, Hannah was strictly forbidden to talk to anyone, and as soon as you stop practicing a skill, it gets lost. After Day 7, Hannah still chatted with Radcliffe about various things. She told him stories from her past life, even convincing him - or rather herself - that she liked this kind of life. But at best, the beagle would just curl up and look at the clouds, or, usually, he would just get up and walk away. Quite often, Hannah was caught talking to herself, and for that, the adults even allowed her to stand up from all fours, only to position the girl against the willow trunk and thoroughly whip her entire back. After several such instances, Hannah stopped talking altogether. She understood their speech, otherwise she'd be in deep trouble, but she not only had no right to answer them, she couldn't even do it! She even tried to express some thought, but all that came out was: "Bua... B-b-b... P-pru..." and the like. Soon she got used to that too.

And so her days passed, burning away like paper in a fire. One didn't differ from another, but sometimes incidents occurred, and I will tell you about them.

Story 1. The Body.

Hannah had lost a lot of weight. Very much. Her ribs became visible even when she puffed out her stomach. Only on the days when she was given vitamins did Hannah receive her normal intake. This wasn't a sickly thinness, but rather a forced one. Instead of subcutaneous fat, of which there wasn't much anyway, Hannah acquired pure muscle mass, which was even more emphasized by her tanned skin. If she went to the gym now, she could lift twice as much as she used to. All these tasks, like a gym schedule, trained her arms, legs, and abs at each separate day. Now she could easily climb trees and do pull-ups like a monkey, though after the very first time she was whipped because she wasn't on all fours, and she never tried that again. Her arms could support her entire weight, becoming essentially what they were in our ancestors: another legs. Hannah's palms hurt from the strain, and this was the first time it wasn't her arm, but the palm itself that hurt.

But soon they grew new calluses and toughened up, just like her feet. Her heels, on the contrary, almost stopped contacting the ground. She easily outran Radcliffe in her little game. One day the adults saw this and didn't even think about punishing Hannah. On the weekend, they bought a dog toy and threw it as far as possible. Whoever brought it back in their teeth first won. The prize was a handful of dog food. The first time, Hannah brought it in her hands, for which she got a slap. Nobody explained the rules! But out of 5 times, Hannah won all the races and got as many as 5 handfuls laid out in a row by the porch. True, Radcliffe started eating from the other side, and they got about an equal amount of food.

Besides these races, the adults tried to entertain themselves the other ways. They gave their daughter an old kettlebell, and she had to walk with it from one willow to the other. This time there was no reward, but if she failed to complete it, a birch rod awaited her. You can't take a kettlebell in your hands, nor in your teeth if they are dear to you. She had to roll the kettlebell with her forehead, constantly choking from that collar. In the end, and this was already towards night, the adults would gather the seats where they drank and ate while watching her, and go to sleep, while Hannah, exhausted, flopped down right next to the kettlebell.

I must say that such games deeply humiliated her dignity. She hadn't fully adapted yet, it being only the first few weeks, so it was very hurtful for her to watch the adults laughing on the porch while she pushed the kettlebell with her forehead.

But on weekdays, it sometimes happened that they left her to herself. The first few times she would lie down and try to rest before the next day's torments. But soon she began to touch herself. First, she touched her abs, admiring how beautiful she had become. And even though they tried to make her as ugly as it gets, Hannah, if she were cleaned up and taught to speak again, would once more become the top beauty, especially without clothes or hair. Her face wasn't cute anymore, but rather strong-willed and by no means ugly. Her body became like a male gymnast's. Only her breasts gave away her womanhood. She then moved on to her nipples, basking in the sun. Then she tickled her sides, which had endured so many branch strikes! Then, lower and lower, she finally started petting her pussy. Yes, she had dirty hands, she was a disenfranchised parody of a human, but the tension kept growing and growing. The first days she managed by working and crying. But now she was so tense that she didn't even notice how the whole day passed. She touched and touched and touched, until suddenly a door was heard. The woman froze in horror, and so did Hannah. Hannah tried to jump to her feet and start apologizing, but thought better of it and crawled on all fours to the porch, sticking her butt out as if to say, "Punish me, please! I am sorry"

It's worth noting that Hannah had already managed to get used to nudity, but not yet to her status. So showing the supervisor the part of her that the sun doesn't shine on wasn't embarrassing for Hannah at all. But she didn't take into account that she hadn't finished yet, so her juices slowly started dripping down her thighs. The woman, furious, ordered her to follow. She grabbed the leash herself - which now always hung by the kitchen door - and a stick. Then she began drilling Hannah harder than on the first day. Hannah desperately wanted to finish what she began, so all the pain resonated from below. The juices kept dripping and dripping. Hannah began to love this pain. Seeing this, the woman led her outside. It was already night, street lamps glowed lonely in the street, but they didn't shine onto the front porch.

The woman quickly pulled her upstairs. For the first time in a long time, Hannah walked on two legs. Then the woman - whose hand was forced to look upward since Hannah hadn't shrunk at all - led her, who kept trying to finish what she started, but fear of the supervisor was even stronger, forcing her to squeeze her breasts so as not to drop her hands down. In this order they ended up in the kitchen. Hannah saw the kitchen for the first in a long time. Her feet felt something other than dirt. The cold checkerboard tile didn't annoy the barefoot girl at all now; on the contrary, she wanted to lie down on it with her entire body! But the woman led her further. Here is the hallway, here is the entryway. Hannah's heart beat faster. Along the way, Hannah inadvertently dripped her juices. Then the woman led Hannah outside. She hadn't seen this for even longer! That little house of old lady Russo! And that wall she used to climb at. There a lonely car drove by! How she missed all of this! But right now she couldn't rejoice. She was led out barefoot, covered in urine and other liquids, naked, bald, with a leash and a collar on the street. Though it was dark, if one looked closely, one could see something strange: a 178 cm muscular girl, trying to hold her moans.

The woman tied the leash around the door handle so Hannah had to bend slightly, placed her against the wall, and gave her the sign that was placed by the entrance. Right now there was some quote about the coming summer on it, but it would soon fly away.

-- "No way, scabby, you're getting off too easy!"

The woman took a marker and wrote right on her stomach: "I am a shameless animal, my name is Hannah and let my appearance not confuse you, I am nothing but a dog."

Here and there the letters smeared because of fluids, but overall it was readable. That's how she left her.

At first Hannah tried to untie herself, but that was the first thing the woman thought of when she tied that knot. Then she tried to call out and apologize, but she had completely forgotten how to speak! In the end she just gave up and leaned against the wall, since she couldn't sit down. She looked at the houses, looked at the cars that probably didn't even notice her. The street was empty, nobody was around. Only the light from the distant lamps and neighbors' room windows gave signs that she wasn't alone in this world. The man had to work late today and came home an hour after Hannah's new punishment. The headlights blinded Hannah. She was almost out of breath, greedily swallowing oxygen that was restricted by the collar. She couldn't sit and could only lean against the wall with her whole body, spreading her legs as wide as possible. The man was no less shocked and hurried to kill the headlights. Then, taking a flashlight, he read the inscription. Hannah tried to tell him something, but it sounded like a cow's moo.

Anyway, the man went inside. Hannah only heard muffled laughter from the living room a moment later.

Everyone was sleeping, and only Hannah dreamed of her doghouse. She dreamed of freezing again, just as long as she could lie down. Her legs trembled, her arms hung limp. She found a ridiculous but more or less working position: she kind of squatted right by the door on the mat.

An hour passed, two. She didn't know the time, but she knew all the lights in the houses had gone out. Hannah didn't want this, but suddenly an animal instinct awakened in her. She shamelessly started jacking off her pussy. And finally, an orgasm! She had been waiting for it for hours! But then she wanted more. She went for a second round, a third, a fourth, as if paying off for all the weeks without sex.

In a fit of lust, she didn't even notice sweet Russo, an old wrinkled sweet little granny. She apparently couldn't sleep, as happens with old people, so she went out for a walk with her cane. But what Russo didn't expect was to run into a huge girl who couldn't even hear herself moaning like a gorilla at the zoo. At that, Russo, unable to take it, slapped the girl. A strong smell hit her nose. Approaching closer, she saw that the creature didn't even have hair. Russo was overcome with anger:

-- "Do you even know whose house this is, huh? Do you even know? A wonderful family lives here! There's a wonderful little daughter, Hannah, and you, a washed-up pervert, dare to make a mess? I won't forgive this!"

Hannah, finally stopping, tried to explain herself and ask for help, but all that came out was: "R-r-ru... Pr-dur-gva-voa." All that was left for Hannah was to gesticulate with her wet, juicy hands. But Russo decided she was being mocked.

-- "Oh, look at you! I'm calling the police."

Hannah's heart dropped. She started mumbling even harder.

-- "And you're still going! You brat!"

Russo took her cane and hit the girl in the stomach, hard for her age, but not hard enough to cause a bruise. Hannah groaned, but didn't produce anything human. Another hit, another, and Hannah lay without strength, only her head hanging by the collar.

-- "Well, that's enough of you, just lie there, bastard!"

Hannah a week ago, even though she had been stripped of everything, would have cried (which today's Hannah did), but today's Hannah also apparently associated pain with pleasure. Lying exhausted, she still reached her hand down there and continued her business. Only faint moans echoed through the street, but nobody heard them. That's how she fell asleep, on the mat, which was wet with her juices and urine.

Early in the morning Mrs. Jenkins saw marks and took her daughter home, vowing never to punish her like this again. Now Hannah could do it whenever and wherever she pleased. After all, who would blame a dog for following its instincts? That day woman moved Hannah to the porch where Radcliffe was quietly sleeping. The girl quietly hugged him. Radcliffe in the morning, though, was not at all happy that all his fur from the left side was wet and stinky.

---

Thanks for reading! I decided to move away from the typical day-by-day account of Hannah's life and focus instead on the big picture and the details of her existence. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. I'm also curious how you feel about the stories becoming increasingly tougher. Please let me know - it would really help me out!

The Autumn, Winter, and Summer stories are coming out soon! In them, she will end up on a farm, come to a new understanding of her true nature, and get to see Brian again.