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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: not.txt (F/beast, rp, v)
Authors name: Kellie C. (kellieC82@aol.com)
Story title : Not a Woman's Best Friend
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Not a Woman's Best Friend (F/beast, rp, v)
by Kellie C. (kellieC82@aol.com)
***
You know all those stupid Internet stories floating
around about how women like having sex with a dog and
they have great orgasms and end up not only fucking them
but sucking their dicks? What absolute bullshit! This is
a more realistic story.
***
My name is Christine and I was raped by a dog. I was
thirty-two years old at the time (I'm thirty-five now)
and living twelve miles east of Seattle, Washington. The
only reason that I'm telling you this is because of all
the stupid Internet stories floating around about how
women are won over by having sex with a dog and have
great orgasms and end up not only fucking them but
sucking their dicks. That is such bullshit.
It was a Saturday morning and I was cutting my lawn. The
house I was renting had an attached garage and a medium-
sized yard. It wasn't the greatest house in the world--or
even in Seattle--but it was clean and well maintained and
it fit my budget.
I was mowing along the front sidewalk, made a turn back
toward the house when the sound of a car's tires
screeching on the pavement behind me made me jump. I
turned around quickly, half expecting to see someone
flying through the air, but it wasn't a person at all,
but a dog.
He had come out of the woods across the street and tried
to cross the road; now he stood just inside the verge of
the woods again, looking back over his shoulder. His ears
were laid back on his head and his tail tucked smartly
between his legs. The driver laid on his horn, yelled at
the dog fiercely, and then sped away.
As the car drove out of sight, the dog cautiously
reemerged from the woods and sat down on his haunches. He
was a black Labrador Retriever, a big one, and he watched
me with a dog's typical aplomb, ears pricked up and head
canted to one side as though wondering what I was doing
over here. I had never seen him before and guessed he was
lost. I called to him and it was obvious that he heard
me, but for some reason he ignored my call and I thought,
Well fuck you too, doggie, and went back to cutting the
lawn.
After finishing up, I went into the house and made myself
a roast beef sandwich with a cold glass of milk and
watched the noon-time news. Just as the news was going
off, I heard a dog whining outside my screen door and I
went to have a look. Of course it was the black Lab.
"Hello," I greeted him. "You decided to be social now?"
He was bigger than I had originally thought, at least
120 pounds, and although he didn't have a collar on, from
his appearance it was obvious he belonged to someone. He
was lost all right. His owner was probably looking for
him now or would be soon enough. In the meantime, he
looked pretty thirsty and I went to the kitchen and got
him a bowl of water. When I set it near him on the porch,
he backed away and wouldn't touch it until I went back
inside and closed the screen door.
"You are the weirdest dog I've ever seen," I said. This
from Christine the expert, who'd never had a dog in her
life.
I leaned against the jamb and watched him lap the water.
He was watching me back. I tried talking to him in a
soothing tone of voice, but he remained just as wary as
ever. When I pushed open the door, intending to join him
on the porch, he backed away and headed down the steps,
took off at a run across the lawn. Just as he neared the
curb, however, another car came around the bend going way
too fast--as usual--and for a moment I thought the dog
would panic.
But the driver laid on his horn and doing a one-eighty,
the Lab bolted back towards my house, darted in behind
the row of hedges beneath the front window and let out a
frustrated woof! He just stood there panting.
If I don't do something soon, I thought, this dog is
going to get killed.
Not really sure what I was doing, I picked up the empty
bowl, refilled it at the kitchen sink, then walked
through the garage to the side door, opened it and set
the bowl in the doorway. Then I walked a short distance
away.
"This isn't going to work," I grumbled to myself. "He
wouldn't even let you near him."
A few minutes went by and the dog ventured far enough out
from behind the bushes to sniff the air and observe me
with his impenetrable black eyes. I couldn't help it, it
made me shiver. I backed up a step and thought, Maybe
this is not such a hot idea, Chris. Maybe you should just
go back inside, lock the kitchen door and call the damn
pound.
But before I could reject this idea as plain old school-
girlish silly, I heard the phone ringing and went back
inside to answer it. It was Jean Michaels, a friend from
New York with whom I hadn't talked in a long time. As I
chatted with her gaily for the next half an hour, I
watched through the open kitchen door. The dog never came
in.
-- -- --
I shut the garage door and locked it. It was quarter to
two and although I'd looked for the Lab all around the
house and inside the garage, he was nowhere to be found.
He'd done whatever it is lost doggies do, I guess...
gotten lost even more.
Disgusted with the way I felt, I took a shower, toweled
dry, and put on a bathrobe. I was drying my hair when I
thought I heard a noise from the garage. Not barking, but
like someone thudding against the closed kitchen door.
Armed with the blow dryer, I went downstairs and tip-toed
cautiously through the living room and out into the
kitchen. I could here him whining just outside the door.
"Well, shit," I said aloud, at the sound of which he
began to whine even louder and started a scattershot
scratching at the door with his claws.
"Hold on, hold on," I said, wondering how he'd gotten in.
I know the garage had been empty when I'd gone in to take
my shower... at least I thought it had. He must have
been hiding. Yeah, I thought, he must have been hiding.
Opening the kitchen door just a crack, I watched him back
away to the far side of the garage and drop to his
haunches. The water bowl sat empty beside his left paw. I
had forgotten about it left it just inside the door.
"Weirdo dog," I said.
Stepping into the garage, I closed the kitchen door
behind me and predictably he got up and moved cautiously
away to his tight. "You don't trust anybody, do you boy?
Or is it just me?" He sat down again and watched me with
those polished black eyes. And then he growled.
If I had been nervous before, now I was scared. You never
showed fear to a dog--that's what I'd always heard--and
it was obvious to me why. They can smell it on you. I
clutched the bathrobe closed at my throat and took a wary
step backwards, and as soon as I did this he rose and
stalked two paces forward, teeth bared.
"Nice doggy," I squeaked.
"Grrrrrrrrrr," rumbled out of his throat, low, deep and
menacing. He took another pace forward, dropping lower to
the ground and showing all his teeth. If I made a run for
the kitchen door I knew he'd be all over me before I got
three feet. "What's going on boy?" I said in a small,
quavering voice. "You gonna hurt me? I tried to help you,
you know."
I was standing with my back against the side of the
garage before I knew I had been moving. He approached me
from my right, herding me away from the kitchen door,
toward the corner in the rear. I was terrified now. I was
beginning to panic.
"Nice doggy," I squeaked again. "Nice puppy dog, doggie."
Only this dog was anything but a puppy. He was a demon in
black fur.
Refusing to be cornered like the desperate animal I knew
I was becoming, I angled away and moved toward the center
of the floor. The dog didn't like it much, but he let me
do it. I began to think--pray--that he'd let me go all
the way to the outside door and go through it. Just as it
appeared he'd actually let me go, in a terrifying blur of
motion, he leaped at me through the air.
I shrieked and put my arms up but the force of his lunge
knocked me to the floor. I banged down on my back
striking my head on the concrete and hot sparks erupted
like a 4th of July fountain across my eyes. My vision
doubled and became alarmingly blurred. When it cleared
again--too late--I found he had straddled me, fangs bared
just inches above my throat. I was going to die.
But the dog had other ideas.
"What do you want," I pleaded in a tiny, terrified voice.
My bathrobe was open, leaving me fully exposed. His hot
wet prick dragged back and forth across my uncovered
stomach, making me shudder and want to scream. At first I
didn't even know what it was. When I finally did, in that
same tiny, terrified voice--terrified now for an entirely
different reason--I protested, "No way!" and tried to
scuttle away. He took my throat in his teeth.
"Okay, okay," I breathed with my eyes clamped shut.
"Whatever you want." I relaxed myself with a titanic
effort and spread my legs. Again, the dog had other
ideas. He released my throat and growled.
"What?" I was honestly baffled.
He growled again. He made circular motions with his
head... I swear, he actually did this... and I slowly got
the message. "On my knees?" I quavered in disbelief.
The dog, who was not a dog at all, but the aforementioned
demon from hell, nodded his head.
"You want to mount me?" A breathless whisper.
He nodded again.
I rolled onto my stomach and started to get up. Before I
could get all the way up onto my hands and knees he
batted my on my rump with his snout.
"What?" I was beginning to think I was already dead. Or
in some nightmare dream caused by the concussion to the
back of my head. It really ached.
He growled and shook his head sharply to the right. Away
from my body. And suddenly I understood. "This is not
real," I whispered. "It can't be real. It can't be. It
just isn't happening." He wanted me to disrobe.
Rising erect from my knees, I slid the robe back over my
shoulders and let it fall into my hands. I began to bring
it around when he snatched it roughly away from me and
flung it across the floor. It landed near the garage door
with the arms in an out-flung, helpless gesture. That's
how I felt--totally helpless. I was naked with a dog.
He batted me again with his snout.
"What?" I objected, beginning to loose my cool. The
crippling shock and disbelief had begun to wear off and I
was becoming rebellious. Damned if I was being corralled
by a dog.
Suddenly he was up on his rear haunches, one talon-clawed
paw on either of my shoulders and the back of my neck
clamped firmly between his teeth. His breath flowing
around my neck was horrid. "Okay, okay," I acquiesced. "I
get the point." Then, as the powerful muscles in his jaw
began to clamp shut on my neck, "Please! Anything you
want!" It was a short-lived rebellion.
He dropped back to all fours and so did I. He sniffed me
up and down my flank and licked my right cheek. I took
it. He snuffled into my right ear and bit lightly at the
lobe and I took that too. All the while I smelled his
graveyard breath. What the hell was he doing?
For a moment neither of us moved. He stood there panting,
beside my right shoulder, facing me, and suddenly I
understood. This was some kind of dominance thing, what I
had occasionally seen one dog--presumably the alpha male-
-do to another. He was doing it to me. I got it, I
thought. Loud and clear. You're the alpha. I'm the bitch.
Satisfied (he read my thoughts in my body language,
there's no other explanation) he grunted lightly one
time, then went to stand behind me. I stared straight
ahead panting. He had really hurt my neck. Good luck,
Christine, I thought. A dog is about to fuck you.
He sniffed at my pussy (I hate the word with everything I
am, but I just can't think of a better one to use), then
snuffled it like he had done to my ear. I tried not to
jump but the shock was just too great. I gave a little
shriek and sidled forward. He growled.
"Fuck you!" I said vehemently under my breath. "I don't
like it, okay!"
He obviously did, because a moment later his tongue went
from halfway to my navel all the way up the crack of my
ass to the small of my back. This time I really did
shriek and I surged forward in alarm. I also looked back
over my shoulder in horror as ever nerve ending in my
body jangled. It was like getting scrubbed by a warm, wet
length of Scotchbrite.
I didn't move. I didn't breath. I felt sick at my
stomach. I wanted to puke.
He licked my pussy again and I made a disgusting noise,
something a real bitch might make. Tears leaked from my
eyes and splattered onto the concrete below, sucked up
almost immediately by the dust and porous surface. It
wouldn't stay that way for long, not if I started
bawling. When I started bawling.
He lapped at me for a full minute, then two, getting me
slathered up and absolutely raw. I felt every little
sandpaper bead on his tongue and because I routinely
shave to keep myself clean--I had done so only that
morning--there was not even my wispy blonde pubic hair to
offer any protection.
My clitoris, my swollen outer lips, the mouth of my
vagina, my urethra and especially my poor little anus all
got the treatment. And the way he went after me with that
tongue, with such unbelievable vigor--he'd driven me six
feet or more across the floor--you'd think I was a sugar-
coated treat. To him, I guess I was.
Then he mounted me and locked his powerful forepaws
around my waist and I squealed in complete and utter
terror. He shoved forward with his cock, not so much
searching for my pussy as dive-bombing it. I wailed again
and tried to crawl away across the floor but he lunged
forward over me and grabbed my neck again with his teeth.
He bit down hard and growled an angry, you stay the fuck
put! snarl, breaking my skin with his teeth--not deep,
just enough to get his point across--and I could feel
blood seeping out of the wounds.
"Okay," I brayed. "I'm yours! I'm whatever you want! I'll
do anything you tell me to! Just please, please don't
hu--"
I sucked in an agonized breath as something hot and
sticky and the size of a baseball bat entered my pussy.
Then I shrieked and then I caterwauled--quietly, as those
teeth still dug into my neck--and shook my entire body
trying to get him out. Instead, he worked himself even
deeper.
"No," I sobbed. "Please no! Let me go!" Instead, I
crawled forward under him six more agonizing feet until
my head hit the back wall of the garage and then skidded
along its surface. I cried hot, sulfurous tears, the
tears burning my eyes, my nose, the back of my throat.
The thing in my pussy was hot and sulfuric too, pounding
in and out of me, gouging at my vagina, assaulting me,
destroying my sanity one thrust at a time. It was more
pain than I could ever have imagined.
"Nuhungunaaaah," something inside me cawed. I was no more
able to make coherent noise than I was of having coherent
thought. I was a woman with a demon on her back... and in
her vagina.
Trapped against the garage wall, I began to turn in
against it. Splinters from the exposed two by fours
gouged me wherever I rubbed against them. (I'd later look
like a comedy skit from Saturday Night Live or Mad TV or
something. The Splinter Lady, I thought.)
But as the splinters attacked the side of my right hand,
my right forearm, then my elbow, my upper arm and
shoulder and finally my right hip and my thigh, the Lab
continued walking me forward with his thrusts. I scraped
against the plywood sheathing of the exterior wall,
encountering a second two by four, then a third, and
finally a forth.
Then I was in the corner that I had avoided so many years
before--right where my doggie master wanted me--he banged
me head first into the two by fours in the corner there,
driving me unmercifully forward until my head had only
one place to go--down and against the floor. I knelt
there, jammed hard against the studs, my cheek pressed
brutally against the cold concrete floor while the dog
banged and banged and banged away me.
By now I was sobbing so hard my chest felt like an
exploding bomb. My entire being ached. My vagina was
beyond repair and still the dog fucked me. "Please God,
please don't let him do this to me," I kept saying, over
and over again. The words came out as something no human
ear could ever have understood, except maybe God's... and
I don't think God was listening.
Twisted with my head locked against the corner studs, I
found myself watching between my legs as the dog wailed
away at me. His cock was as big around as my forearm--my
father's forearm--pasty white with a cobweb pattern of
vicious red veins. It was a foot long at least. It
probably was longer. But terrifying as it was, what was
at the end of it was ever worse. Because there, twice the
thickness of the shaft and an even angrier red and white
color, was a horrendous round knot.
"No," I moaned plaintively as the dog continued to rut
me. "I can't. I can't. No, no, no, please."
But the dog told me I could and that I would and very
shortly I did. I watched as the knot grew nearer to me
with every thrust. Then the thing hit me with a sucking,
slurping sound that made me retch with revulsion, stuck
in me for a moment before he yanked himself back... and
the wave of pain hit me like a Pacific tidal wave.
On the fifth try he finally made it in and I was
thrashing around wildly with the pain and making horrific
noise and beating at his flanks with my fists. Then
something hot and wet came cascading down my thighs and
splattering on the concrete floor beneath our coupled
organs, my guts cramped so violently that I screamed...
and then I was gone.
-- -- --
The dog was laying in the far corner of the garage,
cleaning himself and ignoring me completely. On the
floor beneath my crotch, where I expected a huge mass of
blood, I saw something possibly even worse: a grossly-
puddled mass of foamy, already crusting over semi-white
fluid... his cum. I had been thoroughly rutted.
I found I had bled very little. How he could have driven
such a huge and misshapen thing such as that into me
without puncturing something vital or causing me to
hemorrhage I don't know. Feinting when he reached climax
must have provided me just enough flexibility to spare my
life.
I think I sat on that floor for the better part of an
hour, staring at nothing. My pussy ached and my guts were
roiling inside and I felt numb like a block of wood.
Never in my life had the thought ever entered my mind
that a dog might actually fuck me. I had imagined it of
course (I believe all women have) but imaginings are
supposed to stay in the realm of imagination. Not show up
in your garage.
"I want to go home," I said. The words sounded so good to
me, so reassuring. My home was only 15 feet away. But
again, the dog had other ideas.
The second time he came for me I just let him. I got on
my hands and knees, docilely let him mount me, then put
my chest and my face on the cold concrete floor and held
myself open for him with my hands. I didn't fight him at
all.
When he came out of me somewhere about halfway through,
and mounted me in a different way, I shifted my hands to
my buttocks and spread them far apart. It hurt his being
in my ass (getting past my poor little anus was really
tough) but not as bad as I had thought. It was my first
anal experience and he spared me the ordeal of his knot.
The third time I lay on my back with my legs drawn tight
to my chest and let him rut me like that. I think it was
a new experience for him and I'm not sure he even liked
it.
Are you trying to breed me? I asked silently of his
inhuman, polished black eyes. Am I supposed to have
puppies? If so, It would be quite a litter.
And then I had an orgasm.
I didn't want it to happen. I fought against it with
everything I had, but it was involuntary and unstoppable.
He was doing me with such savage determination that I
think I had no choice. He suddenly slowed down and his
muscles tensed and by this time the pain from his knot
had almost gone away. He prepared to unload in me and
when his first shot came, hot and gushing and spilling
out my cunt all up my thighs and down over my asshole, I
could not stop.
I came and he came and the two of us came together, him
squatted over me not moving, just emptying his testicles
of their unbelievable load. I clutched myself behind my
knees and prayed for it all to end. His gushing, and my
orgasm. Eventually, they both did. Then he was finished
with me.
-- -- --
What happened to the dog? I have no idea, and I don't
ever want to find out.
After the requisite fifteen minute wait, his knot finally
shriveled and he pulled himself free of me with a wet
popping sound and his cum--that part which hadn't already
sprayed out all over me--gushed out onto my thighs and
down between my buttocks. Such an awful mess. Then he
hobbled to the opposite corner where he cleaned himself
and ignored me from then on. He had gotten what he wanted
and that was that.
I cautiously got to my hands and knees and, risking
another go at it, eased my way toward the kitchen door. I
quietly entered the house and closed the door securely
behind me, never taking my eyes off of him. He heard the
door close but he never looked up.
Later, once I'd cleaned myself up and then cleaned up the
mess in the garage. I had my 9mm Glock with me then and
just dared him to move. I would have shot him on the spot
except that I'd have to explain and I would never do
that. I never saw the mutt again.
I now live in Atlanta, Georgia, just about as far removed
from Seattle as I can get. I live in a nice little, two-
story frame house with a nice little garden out back and
a semi-detached carport on the side. I also have a female
Doberman Pincher named Mary that I know will never try to
fuck me. I only hope some other dog does, just so I can
set her loose on him.
THE END
Note: If you want to reach me I can be easily had at:
KellieC82@aol.com
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 25