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A Man and His Dog

By: A_Girl_Named_Bill



I was warned the guy was peculiar. 

I've been given his name from a friend of a friend. Word has it he has some rare 18th century antique pieces that I might be interested in. 

The address I was given didn't show up on my GPS, though I'd been warned it wouldn't. The house is off of an unmarked dirt road off of Alligator Alley. It is one of those sprawling 1970's-style ranches on about 10 acres of Everglade property. It's draped and hidden under a canopy of mossy oaks, lady palms and pine trees. As I walk down the path leading to the front door, I push back brush and overgrowth, so it doesn't smack me in the face. Bugs buzz in my ear. Pine needles crunch under my feet. In the not-so-far distance, I hear the growls of an alligator. 

When he opens the door, he leads me in and makes pleasantries as we weave through the maze of dust and junk. There's barely room to walk. There's mahogany furniture. Stacks of musty books and old newspapers and magazines. A couple of old cigar Indian statues. Taxidermied raccoons, beavers, and squirrels stare at me in a permanent state of horror and disbelief. The place is creepy and dark, and makes the people on Hoarders look like OCD clean freaks. 

He throws over his shoulder, "What did you say your name was again?" 

"Jack."

My experienced, roving eye isn't seeing much in the ways of worth. As if sensing my ambivalence, he assures me, "The good stuff's in the back," and adds with a smirk, "Jack."

We end in a dark, wood-paneled room with a low ceiling. I can barely breathe and start to choke on the dust. He points to some pieces against the wall in the back. At a quick glance, there's a wood coach chest that looks to be from the Baroque period. Some Louis XV buffet cabinets and, what appears to be, a Swedish clock cabinet catches my eye. He was right. He has some impressive pieces. 

As I'm ticking off in my head what I'm interested in and what I'm willing to offer and spend, I hear a scratching. Like finger nails or claws on a door frame or on a wall. Looking around, it appears to be coming from behind a door on the other side of the room that I hadn't noticed. The scratching is followed by a high-pitched whimpering. 

It sounds like a dog. 

"God damn it," he curses. "Excuse me." He walks over to the door, unlocks it, and opens it. I look up with disinterest from my assessment. 

Inside the room, I see a form on the floor. At closer look, I see it's a girl. On all fours. A long chain is attached to the dog collar around her neck, and it's stretched across the floor to a dark wood framed, four-poster bed. 

She's dressed in a short, white gauzy nightgown that barely covers the globes of her backside. She has long gold hair and honey skin. The eyes that look up at him are a deep chocolate brown.

A bushy, blonde tail protrudes from her ass. 

He grabs a whip from the corner and snaps it in warning first against the ground before bringing it down on her ass with a loud crack. She yelps and curls into herself, cowering. 

"God damn it, Girl! I told you to keep it quiet! I've got a customer!"

She whimpers.

"What is going on? Who is that?" I ask from behind him in alarm. 

"I apologize. I just stopped crating her." 

He points to the metal cage in the corner and then squints his eyes meanly in her direction. "But I thought we had gotten past that . . . apparently, WE HAVE NOT." He cracks the whip again against the floor. She jumps, then lowers her head. Her tail droops and drags to the floor. 

"Is she supposed to be in here?"

"Of course. This is her home." 

"Is she . . . OK?"

"Yes. She's fine. She's just being . . ." He looks at her crossly, " a very bad doggy right now. Would you like to pet her?"

My head jerks up at his question. 

I look down at the girl. With the tail. On all fours. Chained to a bed. 

This is surreal. 

Of course, I do not want to pet her.

Because that would be wrong. 

And weird. 

And bad.

"Uh. Yea. Sure." 

I approach her slowly. Stand in front of her before crouching down until we are eye level. I open up my palm, hold it out to her slowly and croon, "Hey there, Girl. How you doing there?" 

She looks up at me with big, brown, wary eyes, but doesn't move away. Then, craning her neck slightly, she sniffs my hand. Slowly, I raise it and smooth the hair away from her face. Push the stray strands back behind her ear. 

The bushy tail hesitantly starts to wag. 

"What's her name?"

"We just call her 'Girl.' She's been in the family for years. She belonged to my brother, but he died a year and half ago. He used to call her Sophie, I believe." 

At the sound of her name, she nuzzles and licks my hand. 

"My cousin took her for a while. But his wife didn't take to her. Not a dog lover," he says with a grimace. "That's how I ended up with her. My brother spoiled the bitch. It's been a nightmare getting her house trained." 

I smile into her eyes. Keep stroking her hair. 

"It's sad really," he says. "Sometimes she just sits at the door and whimpers like she thinks he's coming back. She's a pretty girl, but not very bright." 

I stroke her cheek. She looks up at me with big, soft brown eyes. Her cheeks are smooth and soft. I see some wrinkles crinkle from the corner of her eyes, telling me she's older than she appears at first glance. But the girlish pout of her pink lips gives her the look of a puppy. 

She sits up on her hind legs and looks up at me while I study her. She is guarded, but expectant. I have no treats in my pocket. I get up close and croon into her ear, "Good girl, Sophie." 

"Go ahead," he says. "You can touch her if you want."

I run my hand down the front of the white gauze gown until my hand finds a plump breast. I cup it. It fills my hand and feels heavy in my palm. She arches her back into my touch like she likes it. 

My other hand slides up to cup her other breast. I can see her hard nipples poking beneath the white gauze. A chain hangs between them. 

I point at the chain and ask, "May I?" 

He nods in approval. I put my hand over the see-through night gown and give the chain a tug through the material. Her body shudders in response. She leans into me and starts to nuzzle my neck with her nose. 

My cock surges, and my pants tighten. Her eyes are closed, and she's pressed up close against me like she wants me to touch her more. I hear her moan softly. 

"Feel between her legs. She gets really wet," he says. "I only let her release twice a week. Otherwise, she'd be piddling all over the floor all day. Go ahead. Feel for yourself." 

I move my hands down and lift up the gauze. She's got a full golden bush. When I put my hand on it, it heats up immediately. On her haunches, she widens her legs a little more, looking up into my face expectantly. 

I part her thick bush with the tips of my fingertips, seeking the skin underneath that's producing all that heat. When I find it, the lips are large and thick. Slippery. So warm. My fingers glide back and forth through her slit like they're running through a waterfall. She moans and shifts on her haunches. Opens her legs wider and pushes herself into my hand. 

"She likes you."

My eyes skim her curves under the thin night gown. She's soft and curvy. I take in the delicate line of her jaw and her eye lashes as they close and flutter. I study her cheek bones; she has amazing bone structure. Her blonde falls and tumbles over her shoulders like a silk curtain. 

She looks like a sweet dirty angel crouched there, panting and humping my hand.

Behind me, he says, "She's got big, thick cunt lips, doesn't she? You can't see anything. I have to clip them back with clothes pins, so I can see what the hell I'm doing when I get her off." He chuckles. 

I flutter my fingers between those wet lips. She sighs and shudders. 

"You want to play with her a little?"

No. "Yes."

He motions her onto the bed. She crawls up obediently and spreads her legs. From the top of a dresser, he grabs a handful of clothes pins. With clinical detachment, he spreads her labia and clips each side with three pins, opening her up. When she squirms, he reprimands her that if she doesn't settle down, she'll be sent to sleep in the backyard tonight . . . and gators just love Puppy Dog Meat. 

He shackles her ankles to the bed posts. The blond bushy tail protrudes obscenely from behind her ass. 

My dick convulse in my pants. 

"She's all yours."

When I stand over her, her eyes are agitated and burn into mine. Her neediness is palatable. With the pins holding her apart and all that blonde hair pushed back, I can see her clitoris. It's pink, and long, and extended, and swollen. Her little cunt hole gapes open and quivers like it's gasping for air. 

I reach out and touch the stiff pink nub. On contact, her hips jolts, and I swear I feel her clit pulse against my finger. I pinch it between my thumb and index finger and begin to roll it slowly between my fingers. Her eyes roll back in her head, and her legs crumble and fall apart like a rag dolls. The pink flesh below her clit glistens wet. Clear fluid has started to form at her gape. With my other hand, I rub my fingers into it, spreading it all over her slit while I continue to roll her clit between my fingers. 

"It's a nice little wet doggy cunt, isn't it? She loves having it pet and touched. Just DON'T let her come," he warns sternly. 

Those perfect, pouty lips are forming a little "Oh," and her eyes are fluttering helplessly. She's taking little puffs of air in and out. When I slip a finger into the hole, her muscles clench down on it like a death grip. 

My cock surges and starts to pulse. "Oh god, "I groan. "She's really tight."

He laughs. "I told you so. You should hear her yelp when you pull her tail. Try it."

I roll her over to her side a bit so I can get to her ass. I lift up the bushy blonde tail. Her ass is perfectly round and pink. I give it a good hard smack before I give the tail a good hard tug. She makes a little yip. I grab her by the top of the tail and start to push it in and out of her ass. I feel the plug catch. It has to be sizable because it's snug and tight inside her. When I push it in, she pushes back against it. With my other hand, I reach around and yank her chain. Her body starts shaking, and I can tell I'm making her come. But I can't seem to make myself stop. 

He yells, "Hey! Stop! I told you: Do NOT let her come." 

I hear myself groan. I really need to fuck this dog-girl. 

"What's the big deal? Why not just let me make her come? She's obviously in pain." 

He looks uncertain. "She's not due to release until tomorrow. It's a bitch getting her back on schedule once she's thrown off." He hesitates and then adds warily, "You could come back tomorrow -- that is-- if you're interested in buying those pieces . . . "

My cock is throbbing. I haven't been this close to shooting a load in my pants since I was 13. 

Underneath me, she squirms and moans and pumps her hips into the bed. When I catch her eyes, they're pleading with me. Something dark, desperate, and primal takes over. 

"What if I pay you?"

He arches an eyebrow. 

"Two hundred bucks. And use a condom. Only my son and I get to ride her bareback." 

I take out my wallet, peel out the bills, and hand them to him. "Fine. There you go. Now leave please. Give us some privacy."

He shakes his head. "Sorry, son. No can do. I'll need to stay in the room to make sure you don't take any inappropriate liberties. She's like a part of the family. My son's quite attached to her."

I hesitate. But only for a moment. 

I unzip my pants, and he hands me a condom. I roll it over my swollen cock. I'm so hard, it's painful. I position her back onto her back with her legs spread open before me. The clothes pins are still holding her open for me. I take them out. I grab the tip and position it at her entrance. 

When her little pink tongue darts out and touches the fullness of that pouty, bottom lip, I stop. Leaning over her, I offer my index finger and whisper, "Here, Baby. Suck my finger while I do this to you."

She takes my finger into her hungry little mouth and starts sucking on it like it's a pacifier. 

She's sucking my finger as I push the head between those heavy, thick folds. I close my eyes, and a moan comes deep from within my chest. It feels like slipping into silky heaven. Pussy has never felt this good. 

When I feel her hole begin to contract around my head, my hips jolt and thrust into her like they're possessed. The urge to pound her as hard as I can is powerful, but I want to make this last longer than a minute. Especially with him watching me. 

I make myself slow down the tempo. I slip another inch in. Then I drag out of her slowly. Then slide back in a little bit more. I do this a few more times before I'm in all the way to the hilt. Underneath me, she's writhing and trying to grind into me to create more friction. 

To keep my mind off the surge of pleasure in my dick, I slide my hands up her body, drag the night shirt up over her head. Then I fill my hands with her full, high tits, pumping them till their pink and heaving. The nipples poke into my palms like hard little pebbles. I pinch and roll them between my thumbs and index fingers. In response, she growls and her cunt lurches and grips my cock so hard it feels like it's being strangled. 

I moan. Grit my teeth. And hiss: "Fuck. Baby. Don't do that. You're gonna make me come." 

I grip the swell of her hips enough to bruise her and warn her, "Do not move. Do. Not. Fucking. Move. Do you understand me?"

She moans, shakes her head back and forth vigorously, but stills beneath me. She bites down on her lip as if concentrating hard. 

I begin to move and in and out. Feeling each glorious inch of her channel grip me. When it feels too good, I give up and start thrusting harder into her. Her moaning starts off low like an ache, but soon gets louder and more frustrated like she's in pain. The sound ignites something inside me. Like I have no choice, but to give in and give her every hard, pounding inch her little doggy cunt is begging me for. 

I fuck her harder than I've ever fucked anyone before. I fuck her like she's my bitch. I make her yap, writhe, and gush all over my cock. I do it until her gush is dripping down my balls. When I finally explode, I come with a hoarse yell. I come so hard I momentarily worry that I've shot a hole through the rubber. 

As I settle down, my body shudders on top of her like an aftershock. Little bursts of stars are shooting behind my eyes. There's an ocean roaring in my ears. 

I almost forget we're not alone when I hear low, knowing laughter. "Heh. Pretty good, eh?" 

I'm breathing hard. I don't want to, but I reluctantly pull out of her. With difficulty. She's clamped down on my cock so tight, it feels like she's not going to let go. 

She's panting and disheveled. Her hair is sticking to her face. I push it back, and she leans into my hand with her eyes closed. I rub my thumb over those plump baby lips. She's still shuddering. It makes my cock twitch. Fuck. I feel myself begin to get stiff again. 

When my breathing slows down, I get off of her, pull off the rubber, toss it into a waste paper basket next to the bed, and pull up my pants. 

He walks over to the bed, removes the shackles from her ankles. She's still breathing hard and looking at me from under the curtain of her hair. He pats her on the head, points at the metal bowl in the corner and says, "Good girl. Go get yourself a drink of water." 

Then he turns to me and says, "So, you ready to look at those pieces and do some business?" 

I look at her as she's lapping at the water from the bowl on the floor. Her tail is drooping between her legs. She lifts her head and looks back up at me with sad brown eyes. Then looks away and hangs her head. My heart squeezes in my chest. 

"How much for the dog?"

He looks at me with a knowing smile, but shakes his head. "Sorry, son. She's not for sale." 

"You're a business man. How much?"

"Too much for you to afford." 

"How fucking much?"

He rubs his chin in consideration. "20 grand."

"I can do 12."

"Pft. Fuck you." He turns his back and starts towards the door. 

I look down at her. She's looking up into my eyes like a beggar. 

"15."

He smiles, "16,500 and you got yourself a deal. And a dog."

He packs the silver bowl and a bag of dry food into the bag. Tells me she likes a good, long run in the mornings and after supper time. I tell him I'll be back for the pieces. 

I attach the leash to her collar and pull on it firmly, "C'mon, Girl. We're going home."