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Becoming Diesel's Bitch 
by Akiko (no address provided)

***

To love your boyfriend so much you would do anything for 
him, no matter what he asks. Even if your boyfriend 
trains his dog to take you sexually, whether you really 
want to or not, that is real love. (Mdom, F/beast, nc, 
rp, d/s, huml, asian)

***

One night while we were lying on the floor drinking 
wine, smoking marijuana and listening to music he had a 
silly idea and I went along.  I had a bit too much wine. 
I was too agreeable. I couldn't really believe he would 
let anything happen. He was just testing me.

It started out with me lying naked on the carpet and him 
getting the dog to sniff my cunt and lick me. He put 
peanut butter on me, spreading it on my throat to get 
the dog to lick me there. Jurgen said I was offering the 
dog my throat to show I was no threat. 

I looked into its inhuman eyes as it watched my throat 
hungrily. The dog held me down, its paws on my shoulders 
as it lapped up the peanut butter. Jurgen then smeared 
the peanut butter on my chest to get the dog to lick my 
breasts and on my face to get the dog to "kiss" me. He 
spread the peanut butter on my butt and soon had the dog 
nuzzling and licking its wonderful tongue up the crack 
of my ass. I was shivering. It was intensely exciting 
and frightening. I had never been so close to the big 
dog before. I felt exposed and vulnerable. 

This was the most wicked thing I had ever done. I was 
covered with dog saliva. Jurgen was pleased. He spread 
the peanut butter on my cunt to get the dog to lick me 
energetically. The dog growled as it licked me, its 
warm, rough tongue getting so deep inside. I have to 
admit that vigorous, warm sandpaper tongue was exciting. 
I held myself very still while its muzzle was between my 
legs and it growled menacingly, but that incredible 
tongue would lap and lap and lap. 

The licking frenzy was unlike anything I had ever 
experienced. The dog was tireless and eager. I shuddered 
and Jurgen laughed as his dog brought me to an awesome 
orgasm. When the peanut butter was gone, Jurgen spread 
more on. After awhile, the dog was not interested in the 
peanut butter, but continued tonguing me. It was 
incredible, relentless and after awhile I was raw and 
aching from the tongue.

"He knows his way around females. He'll figure it out. 
Whether it's a blonde or a Rottweiler, a bitch is a 
bitch," Jurgen said as he watched his dog licking me, 
then circling my body, whining. It seemed confused, 
agitated.

Jurgen said something in German and the dog was suddenly 
on me, its forelegs tight around my waist, its hind legs 
digging into the carpet.  It was humping frantically. I 
felt the length of its cock against my belly and I 
panicked. I screamed to get it off me.

Jurgen grabbed the dog's collar and pulled it off me, it 
was still straining to get to me as he pulled its heavy 
body away.

I had to take deep breaths to calm down. My heart was 
pounding out of control. We were playing a dangerous 
game, playing with one of the most profound taboos. The 
dog was agitated, growling and whining, trying to get to 
me. I could see its erection sticking out hard from 
between its rear legs. It was incredible that an animal, 
an alien species, could get sexually excited over me. I 
was scared, yet thrilled. I felt wicked.

Jurgen had no conflicting feelings. He was hot. He loved 
it. I wanted to make sure he understood I did it for 
him.

"That's what you wanted? You liked seeing that, right?" 
Jurgen's voice was strangely husky. I could see he was 
incredibly excited.

"You were beautiful. You should have seen your face when 
you were cumming. God, you're hot. Sometimes you need to 
do what you don't want to do to demonstrate love. 
Sometimes you have to do something that frightens you to 
grow as a person. You impressed me."

As he held me, I thought about what I had done, 
remembered how warm that dog's prick had been against my 
stomach. I could still feel it.  Diesel had made quite 
an impression. I was still shaking. As wild as the dog 
was, I felt safe with Jurgen there. He would protect me.

Jurgen made love to me on the floor, saying it excited 
him to see his dog licking me like I was its bitch, that 
it turned him on to smell his dog on me. While Jurgen 
made love to me that night the dog pranced around us, 
whining nervously, sticking its cold nose in between us. 
I thought that was strange. 

When I went to leave at the end of the night I found my 
beautiful suede coat was ruined. It had been ripped and 
chewed, but, something far more ominous, it was reeking 
of dog urine.  It had been marked. I was no dog 
psychologist, but I knew in my heart that it was very 
angry with me and it was sending me a message. I did not 
say anything to Jurgen, though. The coat had been a gift 
from him and I did not want him to be upset.

But Jurgen's game did not end there.

The very next time we got together he made me offer my 
leg to the dog to hump, which it did quite vigorously. 
Growling and wolfing as it did.  He had been training 
the dog to do that before I came over.

And it did not end there.

While we were cuddling on the floor, sipping wine and 
smoking marijuana on our next Saturday night date Jurgen 
called his dog and commanded Diesel to lay down next to 
us. Jurgen had waited until I was really high on the 
marijuana and he had the dog roll over on its back, 
exposing its belly, which Jurgen said the dog would 
never do for anyone else. The dog watched me as Jurgen 
had me lean over and look at the dog's thing. It started 
out innocently enough with me tickling and rubbing the 
dog's belly. The dog liked that, whining and growling 
softly as my hand gave it a soothing belly rub.

Jurgen told me to touch the dog's penis. "Just touch 
it," he insisted.  "See what happens." I did. The dog 
was on its back, its hind legs splayed as I put my 
finger down there timidly, gently stroking its hairy 
sheath. Jurgen closed my hand down over the hairy sheath 
and made me stroke it. His voice was hoarse. I could 
tell he was really getting into this. It was a very 
intense moment. 

My heart was beating wildly. I was afraid the dog would 
bite. "Now kiss it!" Like Diesel, I was trained to obey 
him. I had several glasses of wine and I was pretty high 
on marijuana. Nothing seemed real. I was giddy and 
stupid from the joints he had me smoke. I was giggling. 
Soon my face was between the dog's furry hind legs, 
inches away from its penis. I stuck my tongue out and 
gingerly licked it, then with Jurgen's hand pushing on 
the back of my head, I gave it a kiss.

I was amazed to see the glistening grayish pink penis 
emerge from its sheath right before my eyes. My face was 
down there between the dog's legs as its cock slide 
smoothly from its sheath. It was much bigger than I had 
imagined. It was a little like watching the slimy aliens 
emerge from the shells in the Alien movie with Sigourney 
Weaver. 

I tried to back away, but Jurgen held me firmly in place 
so that the pinkish grey canine cock emerged slowly 
toward my mouth. I was fascinated by what I was seeing. 
The dog's cock was as big as any man's, and very long. I 
noticed it was bent as it reached its full length and at 
its base featured a large bulb wider than the shaft. It 
was much different from any man's penis I had ever seen.

"Kiss it," Jurgen said in a low, husky voice. "Kiss your 
dog lover."

I closed my eyes as Jurgen made me kiss that thing. I 
couldn't believe it was really happening. I couldn't 
believe I was really doing that.  The dog was very 
aroused. I could feel it was very tense and anxious.

"Now lick it, bitch. Taste it."

Diesel held still and Jurgen was silent as the tip of my 
tongue came in contact with the dog's erection. This was 
so forbidden! I could smell the dog, it coarse hairs 
brushed my nose. The pungent taste filled my mouth. An 
erotic stickle warmed my belly.

On Jurgen's instructions, I then knelt down on all 
fours. Jurgen was excited. He said we would just see 
what the dog would do. I felt the dog sniff me, sticking 
its cold nose in my crotch. Then it began licking me 
with its warm, rough tongue. It felt like sandpaper on 
my pussy.

The dog circled me, sniffing. I knew I was in trouble 
from the way its ears were perked up and the hair on its 
back was up. The dog got more excited and started 
growling a low throaty growl, sometimes making a whining 
noise. I made myself hold still. I was doing this for 
the man I loved. 

I was showing him the totality of my devotion to him. 
Jurgen said something in German and the dog responded 
immediately with a yelp and climbed on my back. Its paws 
digging at my shoulders, its nails raking my back as the 
dog tried to get on me. It was struggling to get a hold 
of me, growling, digging its hind feet into the carpet. 

I was relieved when it gave up and slid off me. The dog 
was not finished with me though, and it circled me, 
licking my face and growling as it passed my head. When 
it got behind me again Jurgen repeated his German word 
and the dog mounted me again.

This time its front legs locked around my waist with 
amazing strength.  Its grip was like steel. Its big 
chest rested heavily on my back, its muzzle was on my 
shoulders and I felt its drool on my skin as the huge 
dog started to frantically hump me. I couldn't believe 
this was happening, but I braced myself against its 
weight, waiting for it to be over. Its claws scratched 
my butt, stinging me.

I was not prepared for what happened next. I hate to 
think Jurgen intended it to happen. Things just got out 
of control. I did not think it was possible, but I felt 
its cock against my thigh. It was hard, wet and long. It 
was also incredibly warm. I started to wriggle and cry, 
but the dog growled meanly until I held still. It was 
getting desperate. I felt its warm tip touching my pussy 
and I thought I would die.

If I thought the man I loved would intervene to spare me 
the indignity of being raped by his dog, my hope was 
shattered when Jurgen reached between us and helped 
guide the canine cock into me! The big dog was straining 
and digging into me, jabbing its warm penis into me, 
driving deep into me, as deep as any man had ever gone. 
I was stunned and confused by what was happening. I felt 
paralyzed by my fear. 

I was surprised at how wonderfully warm the dog's penis 
was inside me. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Its 
front legs tightened around my waist and I felt like I 
was in a vice as the dog humped wildly into me. I was in 
a fog. I heard the sounds of the dog's tags jangling as 
it humped me frantically. The buckle on its collar was 
scraping painfully along my back. Diesel was growling 
and wolfing as it strained into me. It's back feet 
treading the floor. 

I felt the dog pressing deeper into me and realized 
Jurgen had his hand on the dog, pressing it down. I 
winced as I felt that last inch, that swollen bulb on 
the base of its cock, enter me. Jurgen knew exactly what 
he was doing. The dog's chin and massive chest rested 
heavily on my back. I could hear it panting, its drool 
on my skin. That strange penis pulsated inside me. 
Jurgen never made a move to stop his dog. I had had 
enough. I got panicky.

"Get him off me!" I begged in a shrieking voice.

Jurgen did nothing. "You might want to keep the knot 
out. Otherwise you might get hurt," he said in that 
husky voice.

I had not thought about the knot. I reached down between 
my legs and touched the canine prick ramming into me. I 
felt its hardness and heat and then I felt the knot. It 
seemed huge! It felt like it was the size of a tennis 
ball, certainly more than I could handle. In panic, I 
clenched my muscles tight and pushed against it with my 
fingers.

I was gasping and crying. It was like it was not really 
happening. I could not believe it was me this was 
happening to. Behind me, I could hear my lover's voice 
encouraging his dog. "Atta Boy! Good Dog. Get her, 
Diesel!"

The big dog was out of control.

I tried to calm the dog down with a soothing voice, but 
there was no calming this dog. It was an animal, not a 
man, not a lover who cared about my feelings. The dog 
did not care if it hurt me badly. There was no reasoning 
with the beast. Instinct drove it to drive its knot into 
me and it certainly wasn't going to be gentle with me. I 
was clumsy and outmatched. With a searing pain and 
suddenness that made me scream, the knot was inside me.

Suddenly, the dog froze on me. I felt its muscles tense. 
That dog's penis pulsed strongly three times inside me. 
There was an incredible sensation of warmth and fullness 
inside me. The dog had been frenzied, and fast. It had 
only been on me a few minutes before its come was oozing 
down my thighs. I thought it was over, but Jurgen knew 
better.  

He warned me not to move. I felt the dog's cock swelling 
inside me, growing bigger and thicker. Its forelegs 
still gripped my waist as it rested its massive chest on 
my back. The dog was panting quietly. I could feel its 
heart beating against my back. I remembered how it took 
three men to keep Diesel from damaging the brood bitches 
it was bred with. Now I was the brood bitch. There was 
an insistent sense of fullness inside me as the 
thickened dog cock filled my womb. I had never felt 
anything like that before.

"You better not move."

After awhile, the panting dog raised one hind leg over 
my hip. I felt that thick knob at the base of its penis 
inside my vagina as it shifted its position until the 
dog and I were locked together back to back. It was that 
swollen knob that held me to the dog.

"That's the tie, honey. Don't fight it. Stay still if 
you don't want to end up in the hospital," Jurgen said 
in a low whisper.

I was terrified, humiliated.

I stayed "tied" to that dog for several long minutes 
before its cock slipped free. I was a mess. I was 
trembling. My back was scratched from the dog's clawing 
and I could feel the dog slobber in the scratches. I 
looked down and saw blood on my thighs. I worried about 
infection.

I couldn't stop trembling. I crawled away and knelt next 
to the sofa, shivering as I tried to compose myself. I 
felt sick to my stomach. I needed reassurance from my 
boyfriend, but Jurgen was across the room hugging his 
Rottweiler.

"Good dog!" Jurgen shouted, rewarding  the happy beast 
with a cookie and patting its head. "Good work!"

I felt ashamed and abused. I was also aching and scared. 
I wiped away the tears and found my glass of wine. I 
needed something to get the bitter taste out of my mouth 
and soothe my stomach. I was sore and bloody.

"You were beautiful, Akiko," Jurgen said, as he rubbed 
his dog's head affectionately. "I always wondered what 
that would be like.  Incredible."

Like Diesel, Jurgen's praise washed away my bad 
feelings. I desperately needed to be held by Jurgen, to 
sleep in his arms, to be kissed and reassured that he 
loved me. Jurgen did not hug me, though. He did not want 
to confuse his dog.

Jurgen would not let me clean myself. He thought the dog 
would want to do that. The dog was agitated, pacing the 
room, growling and barking.

"The dog's jealous. You're his bitch now."

To emphasize that point, Diesel came over and very 
aggressively licked me clean.

"Sleep with your lover tonight," Jurgen said when I 
tried to get ready for bed. He made me sleep on a 
blanket on the floor with the dog. I laid curled up with 
the dog all night. The dog wanted its space and was not 
at all affectionate with me the way it craved affection 
from Jurgen. When I got cold and moved closer to the dog 
in the middle of the night for its warmth it responded 
with a warning growl. It was crazy.

In the morning Jurgen scraped oatmeal into the dog's 
bowl and said, "Here's your breakfast." He said I had 
fleas and smelled like a dog. He only called me by one 
name after that - bitch. I was Diesel's bitch, 
exclusively Diesel's bitch. As if on cue, the dog tried 
to nose its way into my crotch. I slowly backed away and 
the dog whined as I closed the door.

I went back to my apartment the next day, locked the 
doors, took my phone off the hook and kept the lights 
off. I filled the tub with scalding hot water and made 
myself sit in it for hours as if I could sterilize my 
body from that forbidden act. I sat in the tub and cried 
out of shame and hurt. I felt abused and betrayed. 

I loved Jurgen so much. I wanted to marry him. He was 
just looking to find a woman to sic his dog on. I could 
not really hate Jurgen, though, and after awhile I 
started to think about the incredible warmth of the 
dog's cock inside me and I found myself touching myself 
until I orgasmed in the water.  The orgasm was a intense 
physical relief from the stress that had built up inside 
me, but it did not relieve me of my guilt. I still felt 
so evil.

I did not go to see Jurgen after that. I was too 
humiliated and repulsed by what had happened. I stayed 
at my apartment, eating whatever I had in the 
refrigerator because I could not bear to go outside. I 
slept a lot. I was like those bitches after Diesel had 
finished with them. 

I was exhausted and sore. I was relieved, though, that 
the bleeding had stopped after the first day. I took 
several baths a day, brushed my teeth and gargled with 
Listerine every hour and dabbed Miss Dior perfume all 
over me. I was sore and worried. I missed Jurgen. I had 
loved him more than any man.

I stopped going to work and I did not even care when my 
boss called me to tell me I had been fired. I was numb.

After more than a week -- the longest stretch I had gone 
without my Jurgen in more than a year -- he sent over a 
romantic card, a dozen beautiful roses and a dog 
biscuit. The dog biscuit was humiliating, but the roses 
were wonderful. I missed Jurgen. He was difficult to 
please, but he was the most exciting man I had ever 
known. 

I wanted to be with him. I made a covered dish of 
Jurgen's favorite beef stew, dressed the way he liked me 
-- in a short denim skirt and halter top -- and went 
over to his house. The dog was tied up out back and 
started barking loudly and straining on its chain when 
it saw me.

Jurgen hugged me and kissed me on the forehead. He 
patted me on the top of the head, jokingly. He said he 
was glad to see me. He sat me down on his sofa and 
poured me wine. We ignored the incessant howling of the 
dog as best we could as we talked. The dog was going 
crazy.

Finally, Jurgen went outside. He had not said anything 
to me, but I knew he was letting the dog in. I could 
hear its nails clattering frantically on the tile floor 
in the kitchen, and those damn tags jangling. I tensed. 
The dog yelped and made a beeline for the living room 
where it smelled me. The dog was beside itself with 
excitement.  Its stub of a tail was wagging wildly. 
Diesel's ears were up and the dog was whining and 
shaking at the sight of me.

"He's glad to see you," Jurgen said calmly. "Diesel 
missed you."

The dog moved on me immediately, burrowing its snout up 
my skirt. Its wet nose pressing against my thighs. With 
its muzzle in my skirt, the dog started growling 
menacingly and nipping at me. I was terrified.

"It knows what it wants!" Jurgen said, smirking as I 
cringed, shrank back and parted my legs, afraid of being 
bitten by the frantic animal.  It got its teeth into my 
panties and began shaking its head, backing away, 
tearing my panties right off me.

"I taught him that while you were away," Jurgen said 
proudly as the dog burrowed its snout back up my skirt, 
its rough tongue now licking at my vagina. Tears of 
humiliation streamed down my face.

The dog gripped the hem of my skirt in its jaws and dug 
its claws into the carpet, straining as it backed away, 
tugging me off the sofa and toward the floor. It was 
growling, its teeth bared. I looked to Jurgen for help, 
expecting him to call off the dog with a few harshly 
spoken German words. Jurgen said nothing. He just 
watched with an amused smile on his face. Our eyes met 
and he just shrugged.

"Say something! Make it stop," I whispered pathetically. 
"Call your dog off me!"

"I am not getting involved. This is between you and the 
dog," the man I had loved so fiercely said just before 
he turned his back on me and walked out of the room. As 
the dog used its power to drag me onto the floor I heard 
the refrigerator door open and the unmistakable sound of 
a beer can being opened. 

I had twisted around as the dog dragged me from the sofa 
and I was on my hands and knees, trying to get to my 
feet and the dog had worked itself into an absolute 
frenzy. The dog's snarling face was inches from mine. 
Its lips were back, its teeth bared. Saliva dripped onto 
the carpet. I was shivering with terror.

"If you don't want your throat ripped out in the next 
ten seconds, Akiko, I recommend you slowly lay down on 
your back. Very slowly." Jurgen's words were calm and 
softly spoken. I had no choice. I did as he said, going 
onto my back in slow motion. The dog was still snarling 
and baring its teeth inches from my face. The hair on 
its back was raised. Its ears were flattened. I was in 
trouble.

"Offer it your throat, Akiko."

I didn't move. I thought about the woman jogger and her 
four hundred stitches. I tried not to imagine what that 
must look like. Four hundred stitches. I thought about 
the teen-age boy who had been mauled just the other day. 
I tried not to think about that snarling dog baring its 
teeth and slobbering in rage at me at that moment.

"Offer the dog your throat. Show him you are submitting. 
If you don't, you will be torn apart. I know what I am 
talking about."

I raised my head, presenting the angry dog with my 
throat. I couldn't stop shaking. I was so vulnerable at 
that moment to a frenzied animal that was capable of 
killing me in a moment. When the dog's jaws closed down 
around my throat and growled I peed on the carpet. I 
knew I was dead. But the dog did not bite down. It held 
my throat in its jaws and growled.

"He just establishing its dominance, Akiko. That's its 
nature. If you are going to survive, you must be totally 
submissive," Jurgen said.  "The stud dominates the 
bitch. Welcome to the animal kingdom."

When the dog finally released my bruised throat, Jurgen 
told me to lick its mouth. "That is all submissive 
behavior the dog can understand," Jurgen told me as I 
desperately lavished the dog's mouth with my tongue.

"You have to understand Diesel will never tolerate any 
sign of equality or dominance from you. Do you 
understand? This is not a poodle. You must be totally 
submissive to it. Or suffer the consequences."

As Jurgen calmly sipped his beer, I obeyed every 
instruction he gave me and carefully wriggled out of my 
damaged skirt and torn panties, slipped out of my halter 
and got back on my hands and knees, presenting myself to 
the eager dog. It mounted me with urgency.

"What Diesel wants, Diesel gets!" Jurgen said smugly as 
Diesel got me. 

"Good dog, Diesel!"

After the dog had ejaculated inside me and its cock 
swelled to fill my womb, Jurgen got up and turned on the 
television set, clicking restlessly through the 
channels.

"You should be grateful," he said to me while I knelt 
back-to-back with his dog, my head resting on the floor, 
enduring the "tie" that follows mating, waiting several 
long minutes for that dog's cock to shrink enough to 
slip out of me. "People pay me a lot of money to let 
Diesel fuck their bitches. You get it for free."

When the dog's penis shrank and slipped away, Jurgen 
gave the dog a cookie and a big hug, rewarding it for 
what it had done to me. I knew he was training the dog, 
teaching it that by fucking me it was pleasing its 
master. That was powerful motivation for Diesel. In 
fact, it was what motivated me, too.

Jurgen told me things between us could never be the 
same. Yes, he loved me, more than ever. He said I never 
looked so beautiful or sexy as when I was with his dog. 
Not many women would do that and I was special. But he 
did not want to confuse his dog. I could no longer be 
his girlfriend, I was now the dog's bitch. And like 
Diesel, I was Jurgen's pet. But in the dog's world, a 
bitch is a bitch, and I rated beneath both males in that 
household.

Jurgen never let me forget what I had done. I had let 
him push me too far, farther than he could stomach 
himself. He would scrape food into the dog's bowl and 
make me eat on the floor next to the dog, calling it a 
romantic dinner with my lover. I was there to serve at 
the dog's pleasure only. He joked cruelly that I might 
have a litter some day. He called me a brood bitch.

When he had his next ritual with Diesel, making the dog 
present his paws and muzzle to Jurgen, he had me kneel 
down next to him and had the dog sit close to me. After 
he went through the ceremony declaring the dog's paws 
and muzzle to belong to him, Jurgen placed the dog's paw 
against my lips and told me to lick it. When I did, 
Jurgen announced in his most authoritative voice, 
"Diesel's bitch." He had me sit still while he had the 
dog's paws rest on my shoulder and he repeated the 
announcement, "Diesel's bitch." It was official. For 
Jurgen, and for the dog, that little ritual carried all 
the authority of a wedding ceremony.

Things were different. The way the dog looked at me 
after that. It always wanted ME. It was humiliating to 
be wanted by a dog. Jurgen made me walk the dog at 
night. Jurgen called them "romantic walks" with my 
lover. I never took the dog on those walks, the dog took 
me, straining its massive weight on the leash to set the 
direction and pace. 

If I lagged behind or started off in the wrong 
direction, the dog would snarl viciously. It was clear 
who was dominant in our relationship.  Diesel was the 
alpha dog. On those walks, Diesel would go wild if 
another dog came near me. He would lunge at it, snarling 
viciously, its teeth bared. It would not allow any other 
male dog around me. It was jealous, protecting its 
property.

Jurgen said the dog was his best friend and he always 
let me know he loved that dog more than me. He said the 
dog only loved its master, not me. Jurgen said the 
relationship between Master and Dog was so strong that 
no bitch would ever come between them. If Diesel were 
ever to injure me, Jurgen said he would not hesitate to 
let me bleed to death and dump my body rather than risk 
his beloved dog being destroyed. That chilled me, but I 
had no reason to doubt him.

Jurgen would no longer have sex with me. He said he 
would not put his cock where a dog's cock had been. He 
said he did not fuck dogs. And I was a dog now. I was 
beneath him. He would not even kiss me. We did not go to 
the movies or out to dinner. I was hurt. I had not given 
up my dream of marrying Jurgen. He is an unusual man and 
I tried so hard to be the unusual woman that he would 
want.

"You don't understand dogs. They are very simple. 
Obedience. Loyalty.  Courage. He thinks you are his now. 
You are his now. Think of it from the dog's perspective. 
If I made love to you now, I would become his rival. It 
would ruin our relationship. Diesel's and mine. He would 
not trust me. I'm his master. He would be confused."

When I protested, saying we could make love at my 
apartment and the dog would never know, Jurgen said it 
would smell his scent on me and feel betrayed.

"That would be unfair to the dog," he said, closing any 
further discussion on that topic. "And by the way, from 
now on, keep off the furniture." He was serious. I was 
not allowed to sit on the sofa, lay on his bed or eat at 
the table ever again. After all, what would Diesel 
think?

While cleaning the bedroom I found some Camel cigarette 
butts with telltale red lipstick marks in the ashtray on 
the nightstand. That was the brand Jurgen's old 
girlfriend, the one with the bleached blonde hair and 
rose tattoo, smoked. That confirmed my suspicions. I had 
smelled her perfume on his pillow case when I did the 
laundry, but I was still devoted to Jurgen and even 
though it hurt, I continued doing everything I could to 
please him.

Jurgen wanted to keep his precious Diesel on a regular 
schedule so it would continue to perform for what he 
called "the paying bitches."

Jurgen decided when I could see him, and his dog. He 
insisted that I come over to his house twice a week for 
"dates" with Diesel, never more, and never less. He made 
me dress up for those dates and he trained the dog to 
"ask" him before it mounted me. And I was instructed to 
come over four evenings a week to walk the dog. 

When I was at Jurgen's house I was there to see the dog, 
not him. And the dog and Jurgen decided if there would 
be sex. Once the dog decided, there was nothing I could 
do. I was not allowed to say no. When that dog stuck its 
nose in my crotch I was expected to be completely 
pliant. But Jurgen kept tight limits on my visits.

"If the dog had his way, he'd be fucking you ten times a 
day! You'd like that wouldn't you?"

He made me say yes.

From then on, my Saturday nights belonged to Diesel and 
Jurgen. Instead of sex with me the way it used to be 
between me and Jurgen, Jurgen would have me wear a sexy 
nightie and have me lay on floor and let dog into room. 
He would sit on the sofa and watch it fuck me. The dog 
had a ritual of sniffing me, growling and licking my 
face before it mounted me. 

Jurgen always rewarded with praise and its favorite 
cookie. I learned the German command Jurgen uttered 
before the dog mounted me that first time was "Get 
girl", the command he gave Diesel when it was breeding a 
brood bitch. After that first night, though, Diesel did 
not need his master's command to mount me.

As we got more comfortable with each other as lovers, 
the dog and I found new positions, and it would take me 
on my back and fuck me in the missionary position, its 
paws on my shoulders, licking my face with its big red 
tongue, biting my throat and growling as it jabbed its 
penis into me. Just like a wife grows accustomed to her 
husband's preferences and manners in bed, I got quite 
familiar with the dog's rituals and habits. I could 
sense when it was about to ejaculate inside me. 

I learned that by pressing myself back into him, I could 
relieve some of the pressure from the heavy dog's 
humping into me. And I developed a technique of resting 
my face and one elbow on the floor when I was being 
mounted so that I could free one hand to press against 
my vagina to protect it somewhat. The massive dog 
outweighed me by more than twenty pounds and when it got 
really going on me, of course, it was more than I could 
support and he would break me down beneath him.

As a lover, the dog was unlike any man I had known. 
Diesel was a quick, powerful, dominating lover, and it 
was never satisfied with just once.  It had to have me 
at least two or three times before it would leave me 
alone. The dog always left me scratched and sore, aching 
and thrilled.

Jurgen made me talk to the dog the way I had talked to 
men in bed while it mounted me, whispering that I loved 
it, encouraging it, whispering come on, love, the way I 
used to talk to Jurgen in bed.

I also became more skilled at playing with the dog's 
penis, learning to lure it out of its sheath so that I 
could kiss it, suck it's long, crooked erection and lick 
the reddish bulb at its base. Jurgen was thrilled when I 
actually succeeded in making the dog cum in my mouth.  
The dog's cum was more fluid and pungent than the men I 
have tasted, and its three powerful ejaculations 
produced more cum than I could swallow. 

Jurgen was thrilled by the lewd sight of his dog's cum 
drooling down my chin. Jurgen said there were not many 
women that could do that with a dog! After awhile Diesel 
liked me doing that so much the dog would sometimes 
demand I suck its cock on our dates rather than mate.

At Jurgen's insistence, Diesel and I mated face to face. 
Jurgen positioned me on the edge of the sofa and placed 
the dog's forepaws on my shoulders. The big dog lapped 
my face excitedly with its warm sandpaper tongue while 
Jurgen had me guide its warm erection into me. 

I pressed my palms against its wide muscular chest while 
the heavy dog humped into me in a bestial imitation of 
the missionary position. The dog was heavy on me and its 
big, broad chest reminded me a bit of Jurgen's chest on 
me when we used to make love.

Once I was Diesel's lover I could see that dog had a 
personality. It was much like Jurgen in many ways, not 
only was its muscular, chesty physique much like its 
master's, but its arrogant swagger and dominating 
personality was a canine version of the man I loved. 
Both dog and man treated me about the same, it seemed.

***

After several weeks of the Diesel "dating game" I came 
down with a severe bladder infection and spent a 
Thursday night in the emergency room. Before writing out 
a prescription for antibiotics, the doctor quizzed me 
about my sex life. He joked about the newlywed disease, 
but frowned when he saw the scratches on my back. 

He never said a word about them, thank God. I had no 
idea what I would have told him. When I told Jurgen 
about the infection he told me to stay away from the dog 
for two weeks. He did not want me infecting Diesel with 
anything! He would never believe the dog infected me.

The big dog required lots of exercise. Jurgen let it run 
loose in his big back yard, but he also took the dog for 
long walks every evening.  Sometimes he would invite me 
along. He often liked to send me out alone with the dog 
for walks that sometimes covered several miles over two 
or three hours, again, the dog decided that too.

On the evenings I walked alone with Diesel, Jurgen would 
give it a German command, "No girl," meaning the dog 
could not have sex with me.  On those walks I was 
instructed to wear jeans so I would not be accessible to 
the dog. Jurgen was the only one who could say no to 
Diesel. When the dog stuck its nose in my crotch and 
started growling I was not allowed to say no. 
"Resistance would be ill advised," Jurgen said as he 
watched his dog push me down on the floor.

Sometimes Jurgen would go with us and he would have me 
run alongside the dog down on the bike path. Jurgen 
always insisted I wear my hair in a pony tail for my 
runs because he liked to see my hair swinging from side 
to side as I ran.

Jurgen liked provoking his dog around me, to keep me on 
edge more than anything else. He thought it was funny. 
He would tell Diesel that this black Lab or that 
Siberian Husky was going to get me and the dog would go 
into a jealous frenzy. "He's going to get her! He's 
going to get your bitch!" Jurgen would whisper to Diesel 
whenever another dog came near me and the big dog would 
react with a frightening frenzy, its ears would go up, 
the hair on its back would rise and it would snarl, bare 
its teeth and strain against the leash.

***

On a raw winter day Jurgen made me wear a short skirt 
and no panties and we went for a long walk with the dog. 
It was windy and cold, but the dog did not mind. It 
loved the outdoors. Jurgen told me to start running. I 
had trouble in the snow and ice. Jurgen waited a full 
minute, then he let the dog loose. I heard its tags 
jangling and its barking as it ran me down. Diesel 
lunged at my back and knocked me down, scraping my knees 
on ice. 

The dog mounted me and raped me in the snow in broad day 
light while Jurgen watched. I was shivering and 
bleeding. The dog wanted to get loose and stepped over 
my back, turning itself around over me, but we were 
stuck and Diesel and I laid butt-to-butt in that awkward 
"tie" for several freezing minutes, but the dog, of 
course, did not care about my discomfort. It was a lot 
like its master in that regard.

I stunk of wet dog. My clothes were ruined and my ankle 
was sprained.  The dog was happy and it ran around 
barking. As I limped next to him Jurgen said I made an 
excellent bitch. Maybe he would hire me out to other dog 
owners, he said with a laugh that chilled my soul. That 
was something he would say from time to time and it 
bothered me.

That dog dominated my life. Jurgen made sure of that. My 
shoulders constantly ached from the strain of supporting 
myself against the lunging weight of the big dog. My 
back was constantly marked by the deep red scratches 
inflicted by the dog's nails during our frantic 
lovemaking. I could not wear a bathing suit all summer 
because of the scratches. My clothes were getting ruined 
by the dog. 

I hardly had anything that was ripped by Diesel's sharp 
teeth. When I was going out in public I had learned to 
examine everything I wore for teeth marks.  Even my 
underwear had teeth marks. Everything in my life seemed 
covered in black dog hair. My favorite halter was ruined 
by stains from the dog's slobber. Other clothes were 
marked by muddy paw prints or worse.  The dog had chewed 
up my favorite green plaid jumper because I had not been 
able to get out of it fast enough. Another time the big 
dog has knocked me down and rolled me around the ground 
in its backyard run, getting its manure all over me. 

I was disgusted, but Jurgen just laughed and said the 
dog was "marking" its property. I started wearing extra 
perfume because I was so self conscious about smelling 
like a dog. Jurgen would not let me wear old clothes to 
his house. He insisted I dress nicely for my "dates" 
with Diesel, and usually had me wear a sexy negligee on 
Saturday nights.

While cleaning his house I made a chilling discovery in 
his bedroom closet. A dummy. This was different from the 
"intruder" in the barn that Jurgen used to train Diesel 
to attack. This one obviously had been for training, 
too, but for a different kind of lesson. This dummy was 
smaller, just my size. It had a chestnut brown wig and 
it was dressed in one of my skirts and sweaters. 

It had a mouth drawn on its face with my lipstick. It 
even had my earrings. The dummy was a grotesque sight.  
When I got close, I could smell my perfume on the dummy. 
The dummy was in pretty rough shape. My clothes were 
torn and smelled of dog. And the stuffing was coming out 
at the neck where the fabric had been ripped by the 
dog's teeth. One arm was torn nearly off. 

The eerie sight of the dummy disguised as me made me 
shudder. I realized Jurgen must have gone to great 
lengths to train his big dog to be my lover. I had 
images of what the training must have been like. I 
realized, too, that he had been training me as much as 
he had been training the dog.

***

One Saturday he decided he wanted to test the dog's 
endurance and he let Diesel know he wanted it to fuck me 
over and over again. Five times the dog mounted me and 
stuck its penis into me. Jurgen was thrilled and let his 
dog know. He told me I was what was known in the trade 
as "a receptive bitch." He said it as a compliment.

Whenever I was around other dogs, they went wild picking 
up the smell of the other dog, and the smell of canine 
sex on me. Once a big Retriever knocked me down in the 
park and started sniffing me while its bewildered owner 
pulled him off me, apologizing profusely, saying his dog 
had never acted like that before.

I had always been fascinating by the mating ritual, but 
Jurgen would never let me watch Diesel impregnate one of 
the pedigreed Rottweiler bitches. He said I would be 
jealous seeing my lover with another bitch and my 
presence would distract the dog from its duties. 
Diesel's mating and his show appearances were a mystery 
to me. I was not allowed to attend because I would be a 
distraction.

***

On the dog's fifth birthday I bought Diesel a new 
collar. Jurgen was touched and pleased that I would do 
something like that without him ordering it. He gave me 
the dog's old choke chain and told me I had to wear it 
whenever I visited the house.

Jurgen loved his role as master. And I was giving him an 
authority he never had with other woman. I thought he 
appreciated that, and he did keep telling me how unique 
I was.

Jurgen was a master manipulator. He knew what he had to 
do to control me. He showed just enough interest in me, 
enough consideration, to give me hope. On my birthday he 
told me to wear my black dress, what he called my "fuck 
dress", and he would take me out for drinks to 
celebrate. We sat in the darkened lounging drinking and 
talking, almost like old times, when Jurgen gave me a 
little gift wrapped box. 

I was sure it was the engagement ring I wanted so badly. 
My heart was pounding as I unwrapped the box. It was not 
an engagement ring. It was a dog tag. Jurgen had a tag 
made up with "Akiko" engraved on one side and "Diesel's 
Bitch" engraved on the other. He went down to the town 
hall and got me licensed as a dog, registering me as a 
Rottweiler bitch. He added the license to the "Akiko" 
tag on my collar, so the tags jangled when I moved, just 
like Diesel.

Jurgen enjoyed doing everything he could to push me into 
the role of his dog's bitch. He loved using that word 
around me. He gave me Diesel's cast off dog brushes and 
made me throw out my hair brushes. I had to brush my 
hair with Diesel's old dog brush. Jurgen made sure I 
carried a dog's brush and a rawhide bone in my purse. 
Jurgen had a color photograph of the dog enlarged and 
framed and ordered me to put it on the nightstand by my 
bed. Jurgen made me give him back my picture of him.

"You're lucky. Diesel is going to show you a purity that 
you will never know again with any man." Jurgen told me. 
"But don't forget, you're its bitch. Dogs don't love 
bitches the way you would like. It is not their nature."

The dog treated me differently, like I belonged to it. 
That dog could not get enough of me. It went crazy 
whenever I was around, wagging its stub of a tail, 
whining, and trying to nose its way into my crotch. The 
big dog was always prancing around, jumping on me, 
trying to knock me down. It acted the way dogs do when 
they want to play or be fed, except this dog wanted to 
fuck me. 

Under Jurgen's rules I could never resist, I could never 
say no. It was the dog's decision. When I was in the 
house and it was tied up outside it would howl 
incessantly until it was brought in to be with me. Those 
brown dog eyes watched me intently where ever I went.

Diesel certainly did not regard me as Jurgen's peer. One 
morning I walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup 
of tea and when I opened the cupboard door for a cup the 
dog went wild, its back arched, its ears raised 
menacingly and it barked furiously, chasing me away from 
the cupboard. Jurgen found me backed into a corner 
crying as the angry dog snarled at me. Jurgen was 
furious -- with me.

"You can't help yourself to anything in this house. You 
fuck the dog.  You walk the dog. That's it! Stay off the 
furniture. Stay out of the cabinets."

Jurgen lectured me on and off the rest of the day.

"I am the master. You are not. You are the bitch. The 
dog cannot think a bitch, whether it's you or a 
Rottweiler, is its master. That can't be changed. The 
rules have to be strict. It is all about dominance and 
submissiveness. That is what the dog understands. You 
are the bitch.  You are submissive. He is the stud. And 
I am the master. Black and white."

The incident left me shaken and in tears. I was hurt by 
Jurgen's reaction and surprisingly I was hurt by 
Diesel's attack.

Jurgen did not let go of his anger at me. He was fuming. 
I had violated a rule by acting as a person in his house 
in front of the dog.

"There can be no ambiguity here. The dog's mind cannot 
handle ambiguity. You can't be a person and a dog. There 
is no crossing the line. Remember, you are the one who 
will get bitten."

I could only nod.

To punish me in front of the dog, Jurgen gave Diesel my 
beautiful leather purse as a chew toy. That had been a 
Christmas present from my mother. It broke my heart to 
see the dog tearing it apart.

One task I was permitted to carry out was to clean the 
two kennels in Jurgen's backyard. The second kennel was 
for the visiting bitches for the mating. I was in 
Diesel's kennel, bending down to pick up his turds in my 
gloved hands when I heard Jurgen's voice. He said two 
words in German that I recognized immediately as his 
command, "Get Girl." The dog immediately had me down on 
the ground, growling and biting at my sweat pants as it 
carried out its instructions in typical frenzied canine 
fashion. 

I was menstruating and that seemed to excite the animal 
even more. When Diesel broke free of me Jurgen was 
standing outside the kennel with a camera in his hand 
and a big smile in his face. He tossed the dog a cookie, 
gave it a "Good boy," and told me to clean up the mess.

I accepted what Jurgen and Diesel wanted of me. I no 
longer thought about men. I think I was trying to prove 
to Jurgen that I was loyal. I even stopped referring to 
the dog as an "it." 

In my mind Diesel had become a "he." I even started 
wearing the choke chain around my neck in public. No one 
could possibly know its secret, and people regarded it 
as a bizarre fashion statement. It actually looked 
interesting when I wore a sweat shirt and jeans. I began 
to regard my adventures with Diesel as exciting and 
special rather than anything freakish and unnatural. 

Just as Diesel went from being an it, to being a 
dominant "he" in my mind, I accepted that I was a bitch, 
something submissive.  No one called me Akiko or treated 
me with any respect, not even Jurgen's friends. They all 
called me bitch, sometimes "Akiko bitch", sometimes "The 
Bitch." I did not mind.

Having sex with a dog was an unnatural act, one of the 
most forbidden acts possible. Jurgen made sure I knew 
how few women would do such a thing, yet the fact that 
it was so forbidden, so unnatural was probably what made 
it seem so exciting and intense for me.

I think Jurgen was playing God. He enjoyed the power of 
manipulating genes and directing the breed, he was 
directing a great experiment with nature, combining two 
species. I know he kept all sorts of notes and records 
and photographs of my "relationship" with Diesel. He was 
pushing me into this unnatural relationship under the 
guise of anthropology. Of course, I believed Jurgen. I 
was blind, I loved that man so much. I would do anything 
for him, even give up my humanity. I worried sometimes 
about going to Hell.

He kept meticulous records of every aspect of Diesel's 
life. He had records of the dog's weight, what it ate, 
as well as records of its showings in competition and 
its stud work. Looking through the stud files I saw 
Jurgen had carefully recorded every encounter I had with 
his dog, listing me as "Bitch Akiko," right alongside 
the names of the female Rottweilers that Diesel was paid 
to breed.

Jurgen documented our love affair by taking pictures of 
me with his dog. Whether I was out for what looked to be 
a routine walk with Diesel or if I was mounted by the 
dog with its glistening penis penetrating me, Jurgen had 
pictures. He had one photo of me naked with my choke 
chain and tags enlarged to go side-by-side with a color 
portrait of Diesel that he kept in his bedroom, even 
though I told him I was so embarrassed if someone saw 
it. Of course, that was the purpose.

One evening during a walk in the park a black lab 
ignored Diesel's growling and barking to circle me. I 
froze as the strange dog sniffed my rear. Suddenly 
Diesel lunged at the animal and the two huge dogs were 
snarling and tearing at each other with their teeth. I 
had to let go of Diesel's leash and stand back out of 
the way. There was nothing I could do, but watch. 

It was an eerie feeling to watch two huge dogs go at 
each other so violently, knowing that they were fighting 
over me. It was not unlike having two men in a bar fight 
over a woman, I suppose.  And like a woman watching her 
boyfriend in a barroom fight, I cried at the sight of my 
lover bleeding and stood by praying he would win. 

The fight ended with the black lab running off all 
bloody and crying.  Diesel was triumphant and knocked me 
down right there to demonstrate that I belonged to it. I 
had to take Diesel back to Jurgen with a torn ear and 
bleeding from a few other bites. The dog was not badly 
hurt, but Jurgen was furious that his prized dog had 
been damaged.

It had been so long since I had gone out with a man. I 
regarded my sessions with the dog as real dates after 
awhile, just like Jurgen wanted. The dog consumed my 
social life. It had been months since I had been held by 
a man, kissed human lips. 

My body began to respond instinctively to the dog. Soon 
the warmth of its pulsating penis inside me, the 
frenzied high-speed humping and the friction it 
generated was enough to give me genuine orgasms. As my 
body was trained to respond sexually to the dog I 
worried that I might never respond that way to a man who 
was not capable of the frenzied, inhuman humping and 
lacked the incredible warmth that Diesel had. 

I felt guilty about thoughts I was having about the big 
black Lab that I crossed paths with occasionally after 
its fight with Diesel and wondering what it would have 
done to me if it had won.

I never gave up hope of my relationship with Jurgen 
returning to what it had been before we started playing 
this weird game with the dog. But Jurgen took it so 
seriously. It was not a game to him. I was naive, I 
guess, but I believed I was doing this for him. I did 
start to get suspicious that he was seeing another woman 
at times.

Jurgen always pestered me for details about my affair 
with Diesel. He wanted to know every detail, what it 
felt like, how did it compare to a man, what did I like 
best. I told him the warmth. It had gotten so I craved 
its warmth inside me. Afterward I found out he tape-
recorded those conversations.

Where I was concerned, the dog enforced the rules. If I 
dared break a rule and sit on the sofa Diesel would go 
wild, growling and barking, sticking its snout inside my 
skirt. If I wore panties, it would growl and nip me 
there, trying to tear them off to get at me. Jurgen had 
trained it to do that. I always wound up being pulled 
away from the sofa and knocked to the floor to have sex 
with the dog.

After several months, Jurgen worried that I was ruining 
Diesel for breeding, that the dog was losing its 
enthusiasm for other bitches, that it only wanted me. He 
cut back my "dates" with Diesel to one day a week, which 
the dog did not like, and Jurgen cut back my "romantic" 
walks with the dog to twice a week so Diesel could focus 
on his stud duties. He started talking about hiring me 
out to other stud dogs for entertainment. He mentioned 
that idea more than once. Jurgen was getting worried 
that I might not be good for his dog.

The dog continued to give Jurgen trouble. I had gotten 
to know Diesel quite well and suggested that it was not 
me that was upsetting the dog, but that it was angry 
because its time with me was being cut. That did not 
matter to Jurgen. The issue is over who is in control, 
he said. "I am the master and I will not be argued 
with."

When Diesel failed to mate with one brood bitch that 
came all the way from Texas, Jurgen ordered me to stay 
away from him and his dog for a week to punish the dog. 
During that week of exile, Diesel was excluded from a 
dog show when it got aggressive with a judge. Jurgen was 
beside himself with anger. He was afraid of losing 
control over his dog. He called and told me to stay away 
until he decided I could come back.

I told him that taking me away from Diesel would make 
the dog worse, but he did not care what I had to say. I 
was not dominant. I was surprised I had tried to talk 
Jurgen into letting me see the dog.

I went back to see Jurgen without waiting for him to 
call. Jurgen was incensed that I would disobey him. He 
raised his hand to hit me, but stopped when Diesel 
growled menacingly at him. The dog was in its fighting 
stance, its back arched, hair up, ears perked and teeth 
bared.  The dog moved protectively in front of me. The 
expression on Jurgen's face was incredible. 

He looked stunned. I saw something in his eyes when he 
looked at me at that moment that chilled my soul: pure 
hatred.  I left with the two of them facing each other. 
I hated to see that. I would rather Jurgen had hit me. I 
knew something terrible had happened.  I called Jurgen 
several times, but he never picked up. I left messages 
on his machine. Finally, after four days of calling he 
called me. His message was simple: "Stay away from me 
and stay away from my dog."

I was restless. I was surprised at how much visiting 
Jurgen and his dog had become a part of my life. After 
several restless days I finally got out, going shopping 
for new clothes, flirting with guys again and going for 
longer and longer runs. 

After two weeks the scratches on my back were almost 
healed. I felt like I had broken the dark spell that man 
and his dog had cast on me. I even had a date with a 
real guy who had been pestering me for months to go out. 
We went to the movies and kissed in the car. I was 
feeling normal again. It felt good to talk to a man 
again.

***

Weeks went by. For the first time in more than a year my 
life was not dominated by Jurgen's strange sexual needs 
or his dog. I was surprised and relieved when I realized 
I had not thought of them in days.

I got my hair cut short. That was something I had wanted 
to do for a long time. I was sick of wearing my hair 
long. I had been wearing it long all my life and I 
wanted a change. Jurgen of course had not allowed me to 
get my hair cut during his year as my master. But I was 
not wearing my hair to please him anymore. 

After more than a year of having Jurgen decide 
everything for me down to the length and color of my 
fingernails to what I ate for breakfast, it felt strange 
to make a decision for myself. It was liberating to walk 
out of the hair salon without the weight of all that 
hair. I also bought a real hairbrush and put it in my 
new purse.

It took awhile for Jurgen's spell over me to break and 
for me to emerge from his dominance. It was hard at 
first to order meals for myself without thinking of him. 
I spent hours in front of the mirror examining my body, 
thinking about what I had become. I felt guilt, shame, 
revulsion. 

I felt sick to my stomach at times. I took several 
showers a day and went on shopping sprees to buy new 
clothes. I threw out anything with a dog hair or bite 
mark on it. I went to church every Sunday morning. I was 
desperate to get back to who I had been before I crossed 
paths with that man and his dog.

Then after six weeks Jurgen called. His terse message on 
my answering machine got my heart racing. He said I was 
to show up for my regular Saturday night date, just like 
we had been doing for the past year. "Be ready for a 
night of passion!"

I hesitated. I had finally put them behind me, or so I 
thought. I didn't know what to do. The guy who had taken 
me to the movies the last two weeks had made 
reservations for the two of us Saturday night at a 
romantic restaurant. He had potential. He really liked 
me. Why would I go back to Jurgen and his dog?

I went in through the side door and went straight to 
Jurgen's bedroom, which was part of our Saturday night 
routine for more than a year. He had a sexy lavender 
nightie laid out on the bed for me to wear. It was sheer 
and flimsy. It looked beautiful on me, but I knew the 
dog would tear it off me as soon as it saw me, 
especially after being without me for the longest period 
in more than a year. 

I had prepared myself for an especially rough evening by 
lubricating myself with KY Jelly. I heard the dog 
howling wildly in the backyard. Its howl had an unusual 
wolf like sound to it, but I figured that was because it 
was especially horny after two weeks. I checked myself 
in the mirror, more for Jurgen, obviously, than the dog, 
and put on my collar.

There was another man in Jurgen's living room. I was 
embarrassed. I started to hide, but Jurgen waved me into 
the room. I was so self conscious standing in that 
lavender nightie and choke chain in front of that 
stranger. I knew immediately the man's presence was no 
accident.  He was a breeder, too, he said as he leered 
knowingly at me, looking at the tags hanging from my 
collar. He said he bred German Shepherds.

"Do you like German Shepherds?" The man seemed to be 
smirking at me as he asked the question. "They are 
beautiful animals. I have a wonderful male. Big. 
Handsome dog. A little on the wild side. But that makes 
them more interesting, don't you think?"

I did not know what to say to the man. Jurgen was 
silent. My heart was pounding. In a minute Diesel would 
be in the room. The stranger reached out and examined 
the tags hanging from the choke chain. I reddened with 
embarrassment as he read out loud the inscriptions on my 
tags. I heard the dog's bark again, but it was not the 
familiar bark that had been a part of my life. 

There was something slightly odd about the jangling of 
tags. When the dog entered the room, it was not Diesel, 
but a stranger, a huge German Shepherd. It immediately 
circled me, sniffing at my butt and growling.

"Perhaps we should leave you two alone," the stranger 
said.

That was so many years ago, a lifetime ago, it seems. 
Diesel is an old dog now, or maybe dead. I am a typical 
suburban soccer mom with two wonderful kids, a loving 
husband and a cat. I don't drink. It took me a long 
time, but I finally stopped smoking, too. I never miss 
going to church on Sunday.

To this day, I get nervous whenever a big dog shows any 
interest in me.  Even when I am walking through the park 
with my kids, I am afraid when a dog comes near me. I am 
afraid they somehow know they can fuck me.

On my birthday I still receive a gift from Jurgen. An 
unsigned card and a dog biscuit.

Sent from my iPhone

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any 
of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 80