Crazy Eight Kennels 01 NJ

“Welcome to the executive board meeting of the Crazy Eight Kennels. Today we are looking to decide whether we are ready to move towards opening our doors to our first guests,” Victoria said, looking round the room at the other seven women who she considered to be as close as sisters.

They had all taken different paths to get to the table, but all had one thing in common: they all loved sex with dogs and wanted to share that joy with women everywhere.

When Kate had first floated the idea as a dream, Victoria had been the one to drive it into reality. Liquidating her not unsubstantiated investment portfolio, she left her job in the city and set up C8K Limited, dividing it into eight equal shares, one for each of the founding members of the Crazy Eight.

She retained one share, assigning one to Kate as it was her farm that they were turning into a high-class, ultra-discrete kennel come brothel for women who wanted to enjoy dog sex. It had been Kate who had sought out the right dogs, making sure they would be suitable for their plans.

Next to Kate sat Shelly and her husband Brian. They had sold their pub in Manchester, and with Brian being a chef, between them they ran the housekeeping, food and beverages. They were responsible for making sure their guests had a memorable stay in every way.

Cathy was their marketing guru. She had reached the point in her career where companies came to her to write jingles or design advertising campaigns, something she could do anywhere with a decent internet connection. Because of the people she mixed with, her connections were phenomenal with the rich and famous, and among those, the kinky and perverted. In addition, she collaborated with Pam in the music business.

Sitting next to her was Pam, who looked more like a stray punk rocker than a communication wizard. Her career in the music business had faltered to the point of disappearing once the band had broken up, but she discovered she had two talents. The first was writing songs with Cathy, that was when they weren’t fucking like rabbits. The second talent was setting up and operating recording equipment, something she did while videoing the pair of them, often with Hannibal, and selling the clips on the dark web. Hannibal was half Rottweiler and half devil, according to many who had crossed his path. He was currently locked away in disgrace, which was quite often, when he had surprised and almost raped one of the young kennel maids. They had only kept him around as they all knew there was a market, beyond Cathy and Pam, who were into the rough fucking.

Sally and Karen had sold their house and set up the security for kennels, working closely with Pam for electronic surveillance as well as employing a handful of physical security staff. They were all female and affectionately known to the group as the ‘Dyke Army.’

The final voting member was Linda, the scientist of the group. She had left her job in Cambridge to join the kennels, bringing with her Max and Dennis. Max was her black lab that fucked her almost every day. Dennis was a vet she had recruited to join the kennels after he had to leave his veterinarian practice under a cloud. He had been caught giving the owner of one of his patients a blow job. What had made it a scandal, was that the person catching them was the wife of the man being blown.

“So, how will it work with the guests?” Shelly said curiously, expressing what others were thinking.

“First, they get to make an introductory video where we explain what is going to happen and they state what they hope to get out of it,” Victoria said like she was warming up to an advertising pitch.

“Then we video the action,” Cathy said with a broad smile.

“Finally, we interview them afterwards to see how they feel,” Pam added.

“Then upload the finished article to a secure server and give them the unique password for their viewing as they wish,” Cathy said with glee.

The women then had a discussion around some of the finer points, but generally were all in agreement that it sounded unique.

“Any snags?” Victoria asked.

“Yes,” said Kathy, “the decision videos have yet to be shot.”

The idea was to have a picture introduction to each dog, which would include action clips as well as information about the dog on an audio file. This audio file would be overlaid on the video file, allowing the guest to see the dog in action before they made their choice.

“Can we find someone to test run things?” Victoria asked.

“I guess what we need is our first guest,” Shelly said with a bright smile. “The accommodation is ready...and we have someone in mind.”

The women all turned to Shelly expectantly.

Brian picked up the story and explained how they had gone back to visit a few old friends in Manchester.

“Gone dogging more like,” Pam giggled.

Ignoring her, Brian went on, “The woman is mature and reasonably experienced with sex, but has never been bred. We got chatting and she told me she'd like to try it. She's dark coated with medium length fur, and the trip from North Manchester shouldn't be any problem for her.”

“Sounds good so far,” murmured Victoria.

Shelly carried on, “She is a latent exhibitionist, so she wouldn't object to filming as long as anonymity is preserved.”

"Barney is ready,” laughed Karen.

“So he should be...” Sally laughed, “...with the amount of extra training you have been giving him.”

“We need other dogs,” Victoria said, looking round the room. “At the moment, we only really have Barney and Max.”

“And Hannibal,” Pam said quietly.

“Will take a brave woman to take him on,” Kate said, feeling herself get wet as she remembered the savage fucking Hannibal had given her a few days ago. It wasn’t just the intensity of the fucking, it was that he damn near raped her in the barn despite Pam trying to stop him. “In fact, on reflection, maybe we should keep Hannibal locked away except for any experienced guests.”

“Tell her that if we can pick the dog, we will give her a free visit,” said Victoria, “we can talk about the new dogs after our first visitor.” She paused for a moment before adding, “As of now, no names ever for guests. We use initials and numbers only.”

“I will let NJ know then,” laughed Brian.

*****