Becoming Enzo’s Bitch

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. Karl 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. Karl 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. Karl 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 Karl laughed as his dog brought me to an awesome
orgasm. When the peanut butter was gone, Karl 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,” Karl said as he watched his dog licking me,
then circling my body, whining. It seemed confused,
agitated.

Karl said something in French 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.

Karl 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.

Karl 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?”
Karl’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. Enzo had made quite
an impression. I was still shaking. As wild as the dog
was, I felt safe with Karl there. He would protect me.

Karl 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 Karl
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 Karl, though. The coat had been a gift
from him and I did not want him to be upset.

But Karl’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 Karl
called his dog and commanded Enzo to lay down next to
us. Karl had waited until I was really high on the
marijuana and he had the dog roll over on its back,
exposing its belly, which Karl said the dog would
never do for anyone else. The dog watched me as Karl
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.

Karl 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. Karl 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 Enzo, 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 Karl’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 Karl 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,” Karl said in a low, husky voice. “Kiss your
dog lover.”

I closed my eyes as Karl 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.”

Enzo held still and Karl 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 Karl’s instructions, I then knelt down on all
fours. Karl 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.
Karl said something in French 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 Karl repeated his French 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 Karl 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 Karl 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. Enzo 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
Karl 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. Karl 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.
Karl 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.

Karl 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,
Enzo!”

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 Karl 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 Enzo 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,” Karl 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 Karl was across the room hugging his
Rottweiler.

“Good dog!” Karl 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,” Karl said, as he rubbed
his dog’s head affectionately. “I always wondered what
that would be like. Incredible.”

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

Karl 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, Enzo came over and very
aggressively licked me clean.

“Sleep with your lover tonight,” Karl 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 Karl. 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 Karl 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 Enzo’s bitch,
exclusively Enzo’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 Karl 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 Karl, 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 Karl 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 Enzo 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 Karl. 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 Karl 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 Karl. 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
Karl’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.

Karl 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, Karl 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.
Enzo’s ears were up and the dog was whining and
shaking at the sight of me.

“He’s glad to see you,” Karl said calmly. “Enzo
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!” Karl 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,” Karl 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 Karl for help,
expecting him to call off the dog with a few harshly
spoken French words. Karl 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.” Karl’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,” Karl said. “The stud dominates the
bitch. Welcome to the animal kingdom.”

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

“You have to understand Enzo 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 Karl 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 Enzo wants, Enzo gets!” Karl said smugly as
Enzo got me.

“Good dog, Enzo!”

After the dog had ejaculated inside me and its cock
swelled to fill my womb, Karl 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
Enzo fuck their bitches. You get it for free.”

When the dog’s penis shrank and slipped away, Karl
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 Enzo. In
fact, it was what motivated me, too.

Karl 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
Enzo, I was Karl’s pet. But in the dog’s world, a
bitch is a bitch, and I rated beneath both males in that
household.

Karl 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 Enzo, making the dog
present his paws and muzzle to Karl, 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, Karl placed the dog’s paw
against my lips and told me to lick it. When I did,
Karl announced in his most authoritative voice,
“Enzo’s bitch.” He had me sit still while he had the
dog’s paws rest on my shoulder and he repeated the
announcement, “Enzo’s bitch.” It was official. For
Karl, 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. Karl made me walk the dog at
night. Karl 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. Enzo was the
alpha dog. On those walks, Enzo 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.

Karl 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. Karl said the
relationship between Master and Dog was so strong that
no bitch would ever come between them. If Enzo were
ever to injure me, Karl 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.

Karl 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 Karl. 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. Enzo’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, Karl 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 Enzo
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 Karl’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 Karl and even
though it hurt, I continued doing everything I could to
please him.

Karl wanted to keep his precious Enzo on a regular
schedule so it would continue to perform for what he
called “the paying bitches.”

Karl decided when I could see him, and his dog. He
insisted that I come over to his house twice a week for
“dates” with Enzo, 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 Karl’s house I was there to see the dog,
not him. And the dog and Karl 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 Karl 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 Enzo and
Karl. Instead of sex with me the way it used to be
between me and Karl, Karl 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.

Karl always rewarded with praise and its favorite
cookie. I learned the French command Karl uttered
before the dog mounted me that first time was “Get
girl”, the command he gave Enzo when it was breeding a
brood bitch. After that first night, though, Enzo 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.
Enzo 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.

Karl 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 Karl 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. Karl 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.

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

At Karl’s insistence, Enzo and I mated face to face.
Karl 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
Karl 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 Karl’s chest on
me when we used to make love.

Once I was Enzo’s lover I could see that dog had a
personality. It was much like Karl 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 Enzo “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 Karl
about the infection he told me to stay away from the dog
for two weeks. He did not want me infecting Enzo with
anything! He would never believe the dog infected me.

The big dog required lots of exercise. Karl 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 Enzo, Karl would
give it a French 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. Karl was the only one who could say no to
Enzo. When the dog stuck its nose in my crotch and
started growling I was not allowed to say no.
“Resistance would be ill advised,” Karl said as he
watched his dog push me down on the floor.

Sometimes Karl would go with us and he would have me
run alongside the dog down on the bike path. Karl
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.

Karl liked provoking his dog around me, to keep me on
edge more than anything else. He thought it was funny.
He would tell Enzo 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!” Karl would whisper to Enzo
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 Karl 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. Karl told me to start running. I
had trouble in the snow and ice. Karl waited a full
minute, then he let the dog loose. I heard its tags
jangling and its barking as it ran me down. Enzo
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 Karl 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 Enzo 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 Karl 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. Karl 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 Enzo’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 Karl 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. Karl would not let me wear old clothes to
his house. He insisted I dress nicely for my “dates”
with Enzo, 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 Karl used to train Enzo
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 Karl 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 Enzo know he wanted it to fuck me
over and over again. Five times the dog mounted me and
stuck its penis into me. Karl 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
Karl would never let me watch Enzo 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.
Enzo’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 Enzo a new
collar. Karl 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.

Karl 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.

Karl 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 Karl 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. Karl had a tag
made up with “Akiko” engraved on one side and “Enzo’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 Enzo.

Karl 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 Enzo’s cast off dog brushes and
made me throw out my hair brushes. I had to brush my
hair with Enzo’s old dog brush. Karl made sure I
carried a dog’s brush and a rawhide bone in my purse.
Karl had a color photograph of the dog enlarged and
framed and ordered me to put it on the nightstand by my
bed. Karl made me give him back my picture of him.

“You’re lucky. Enzo is going to show you a purity that
you will never know again with any man.” Karl 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 Karl’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.

Enzo certainly did not regard me as Karl’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. Karl found me backed into a corner
crying as the angry dog snarled at me. Karl 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.”

Karl 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
Karl’s reaction and surprisingly I was hurt by
Enzo’s attack.

Karl 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, Karl gave Enzo 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 Karl’s backyard. The second kennel was
for the visiting bitches for the mating. I was in
Enzo’s kennel, bending down to pick up his turds in my
gloved hands when I heard Karl’s voice. He said two
words in French 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 Enzo broke free of me Karl 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 Karl and Enzo wanted of me. I no
longer thought about men. I think I was trying to prove
to Karl that I was loyal. I even stopped referring to
the dog as an “it.”

In my mind Enzo 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 Enzo as exciting and
special rather than anything freakish and unnatural.

Just as Enzo 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 Karl’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. Karl 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 Karl 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 Enzo. He was
pushing me into this unnatural relationship under the
guise of anthropology. Of course, I believed Karl. 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 Enzo’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
Karl had carefully recorded every encounter I had with
his dog, listing me as “Bitch Akiko,” right alongside
the names of the female Rottweilers that Enzo was paid
to breed.

Karl 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 Enzo or if I was mounted by the
dog with its glistening penis penetrating me, Karl 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 Enzo 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 Enzo’s growling and barking to circle me. I
froze as the strange dog sniffed my rear. Suddenly
Enzo 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 Enzo’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. Enzo was triumphant and knocked me
down right there to demonstrate that I belonged to it. I
had to take Enzo back to Karl with a torn ear and
bleeding from a few other bites. The dog was not badly
hurt, but Karl 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 Karl 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 Enzo had.

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

I never gave up hope of my relationship with Karl
returning to what it had been before we started playing
this weird game with the dog. But Karl 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.

Karl always pestered me for details about my affair
with Enzo. 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 Enzo 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. Karl 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, Karl worried that I was ruining
Enzo for breeding, that the dog was losing its
enthusiasm for other bitches, that it only wanted me. He
cut back my “dates” with Enzo to one day a week, which
the dog did not like, and Karl cut back my “romantic”
walks with the dog to twice a week so Enzo 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. Karl was getting worried
that I might not be good for his dog.

The dog continued to give Karl trouble. I had gotten
to know Enzo 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 Karl. The issue is over who is in control,
he said. “I am the master and I will not be argued
with.”

When Enzo failed to mate with one brood bitch that
came all the way from Texas, Karl ordered me to stay
away from him and his dog for a week to punish the dog.
During that week of exile, Enzo was excluded from a
dog show when it got aggressive with a judge. Karl 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 Enzo 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
Karl into letting me see the dog.

I went back to see Karl without waiting for him to
call. Karl was incensed that I would disobey him. He
raised his hand to hit me, but stopped when Enzo
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 Karl’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 Karl had hit me. I
knew something terrible had happened. I called Karl
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
Karl 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 Karl’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. Karl 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 Karl 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 Karl’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 Karl 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 Karl and his dog?

I went in through the side door and went straight to
Karl’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 Karl, obviously, than the dog,
and put on my collar.

There was another man in Karl’s living room. I was
embarrassed. I started to hide, but Karl 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 French Shepherds.

“Do you like French 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. Karl was
silent. My heart was pounding. In a minute Enzo 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 Enzo,
but a stranger, a huge French 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.
Enzo 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 Karl. An
unsigned card and a dog biscuit.

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