Delilah's Dog Days

"Do you think she'll come back? You already paid her and she seemed quite eager to go. Poor thing wouldn't come back for anything."

Matthew chuckled as Cathy languidly leaned over the back of the couch in his living room and rubbed his shoulders casually while he was busy scrolling through a curated list of images from Delilah's time in his home. One after another, each image was a very incriminating moment capturing her time naked in his living room, masturbating in the backyard, showing proof she had broken into the sex toy "dungeon" upstairs, and worst of all the moment she had been knotted by Whiskey and even pulled him into herself, proving it was willingly done, even if she might deny it. He imagined she'd be quite surprised to learn his house was littered with audio and video recorders...

"She'll come back. And I think she'll agree to it, too. Or, rather-"

"She won't have a choice." Cathy said with a quiet snicker. "You are cruel, you know? She's barely an adult... she can't be expected to make the best of decisions. This'll ruin her forever."

Matthew looked up at Cathy as she leaned over the couch, her hands rested on his shoulder as he sat on the couch. "And yet, she made her choice. And she'd be perfect for this, you know. After all, you aren't cut out for it..."

Cathy scoffed as she stood upright, striding away from the couch and going to the sliding glass door leading to the back yard. Outside, Whiskey was gnawing on a snack bone and paying her no attention. She turned back to Matthew and slid her hands up her body, barely hidden by a lax, comfortable outfit. She rested her hands atop her D-cup chest contained by a thin vest. "I'm more cut out for it than her. She's... uhm..." Her voice faltered as the man turned just his head to stare at her quietly.

Matthew's momentary silence was more of a threat as he looked over the couch at his partner. She blushed and put her hands to her sides and waited for him to speak instead of trying to say anything further. "And yet she's crossed a line you haven't. Even if you've hinted at it numerous times. You've had the opportunity... I made sure of that. And besides, I like you as you are. So no. It'll be her. Come here, she'll be here soon."

Cathy walked over like a chastised dog, eyes downcast and metaphorical tail between her legs. She comes up right in front of Matthew and kneels down on the carpet promptly, avoiding his eyes as she places her hands on her knees and waits for instruction. Matthew reaches forward and brushes his thumb across her cheek while cradling her jaw in his hand as she knelt just in front of his feet.

"Good girl. And don't go thinking this means she'll replace you. At best, she'll be the bottom rung around here. You think she'd be anywhere near you? After all, you still rank above Whiskey... as for her..."

Delilah rubbed her arm as she stood across the street from mister Orem's house. She had gotten his text late last night after she'd gotten home from debriefing about her weekend with Whiskey. With some key details omitted, in fairness. She'd shown that Whiskey was well-fed and tended properly. Matthew had commented that the Shepherd was curiously comfortable around her now, almost possessive, but hadn't pushed the issue at the time.

Then, after she got home to her parents' house and was ready to believe her summer could return to normalcy, he'd texted her to come back the next day at noon. No earlier, no later. She'd debated telling him no... but his statement "We have something important to discuss. It must be in person." did send chills down her spine.

"He doesn't know... he doesn't know... he couldn't. Whiskey has no way to say anything he's a dog... and you cleaned a whole bunch... even if it took a while. Oh god... did I miss something?" She stammered as she set off across the street, dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and a light long sleeve t-shirt. Subconsciously, she'd picked clothes that would be as difficult to get off as possible. She really hoped she wouldn't have to see Whiskey... or that he wouldn't see her.

She reaches for the page button on the gate panel and it buzzes immediately, before she'd even said anything.

He knows everything. Delilah thought as her heart thudded in her chest and she pushed through the pedestrian gate.

She crept up the walkway, the same one she'd walked Whiskey up and down several times over the last weekend, and straight to the front door where a blonde woman opened the door on her approach. Delilah startled at the sight of her and blushed. She was gorgeous, had a model-like smile and demeanor as she leaned on the open door slightly, arm raised and one leg slightly forward. She was dressed in what could really be considered the most casual of outfits. It was a grey skirt going to her mid-thigh and a pale pink vest that tucked into it, leaving her arms bare and a deep V-cut in the vest exposed a valley of cleavage. Delilah felt a touch outclassed, what with her firm C-cups doing little to compete in her baggy t-shirt and a clean but unattractive pair of jeans. They weren't even form fitting!

The woman also, very clear to see thanks to her minimalist outfit, wore a tight collar with a polished rose gold ring at the front of the black leather band, standing out from her pink vest and lightly-tanned skin. With her luscious blonde hair curled and kept behind her shoulders, the collar was statement rather than an accessory. She smiled at Delilah without a ton of affection behind it.

"You must be Dee." She said with a sneer in her voice even if her face was pleasant. "Ma-... mister Orem is expecting you, dear." She said in a smooth, posh voice. She turned to unblock the doorway and gestured in with her free arm. "Right this way."

Delilah tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as she nodded, far too nervous to reply properly as she quickly realized she was, at best, outnumbered two to one in this encounter now. Did she know too? This situation was getting worse by the moment.

As she entered the shamefully-familiar living room of Matthew's home, she spotted Whiskey out of the patio door, pawing at the glass door before going to his doggy door and tapping at that too. Luckily for Delilah, the flap door was locked tight and Whiskey was to remain outdoors.

Unlucky for her, Matthew was sitting on the very same couch she'd masturbated on a good dozen times in the last weekend with one leg crossed over the other, dressed in some sturdy-looking black slacks and a tucked-in white button up. He had the top couple buttons undone and his sleeves were rolled up and buttoned neatly just below the elbow. He sat with his back to her, facing the rest of the living room, and merely looked over his shoulder as she walked in and looked her up and down. Delilah came into the space first with Cathy following. The blonde wore a set of high heels that clicked soundly on the hard floors of Matthew's home and made her movements very clear to anyone listening for them and Delilah felt like the footsteps were a hammer thudding on the back of her skull with how nervous she was. Her heart was pounding as Matthew waved his arm in front of himself and the 18-year-old saw the coffee table had been pushed aside and a dining room chair replaced it, facing the couch; and Matthew.

"Come. Sit." Matthew said calmly but commandingly as he gestured to the chair. His voice all but radiated off the walls as Delilah came to a stop, just to see Cathy continue and stand behind the couch and just to the side of Matthew.

Delilah's face felt hot as she walked around the couch and avoided the pairs' eyes as they stared her down. She felt like she was under a microscope as she sat down and held her knees together, resting her hands as neatly on her lap as she could. She was aware of etiquette and professionalism... this didn't feel like that. This felt like an interrogation. Or a summons.

"How was your weekend?"

Delilah perked up in surprise at Matthew's calm yet direct question. He stared straight at her and she got a fresh look at him. Stout, sturdy, in his late forties, just beginning to show some age with gray hairs lacing at his temples with otherwise rich black hair decorating his head. Even as he sat casually with one leg crossed over the other, he looked like a mafia boss or some sort of powerful figure. He didn't seem concerned in the slightest. On the couch beside him lay a cell phone; his, presumably.

"I-it was good, mister Orem... though I believe we spoke about it at length last night? W-Whis... Whiskey, I mean, got his three walks and-slash-or runs a day... meals at appointed times... I really liked the bedroom you lent me, it was very comfortable." She said nervously. Compared to last night, where Matthew had been a bit disheveled from travelling, he was calm and collected today and all business and direct as opposed to tired and friendly.

"I'm sure it was comfortable. Though, I admit the décor in there could use some work. I just don't have many guests that use that room. But, you saw the other two guest bedrooms upstairs. Didn't you?"

Delilah flinches as his tone shifts into an even colder tone, his eyes narrow. Behind him, the blonde woman was stoic and silent, just matching his stare as he eyed Delilah top to bottom. She knew what he meant. After she'd gone snooping upstairs and seen those other two sparse bedrooms on the master's side of the house... and after everything, she'd even left the other two locked rooms alone up there, though she had raided the "toy room" several more times. She blushed, not quite sure how to respond but it seemed Matthew could read her thoughts and spoke first.

"Be honest now, miss Chanson. I like it when things are said honestly. That way you'll know I mean each and every word I say; no matter how incredible or unbelievable it sounds." He stands slowly and walks towards Delilah. She shrinks in her seat as he walks around her and rests both hands on the tall back of the chair. He stays upright but it felt like he was looming right over her. In front of her, the blonde woman slinked around the couch slowly and sat down just beside where Matthew had been, grabbing his phone and laying it on the bare part of her left thigh as her short skirt rode further up her legs upon sitting. "Try again now, miss Chanson. You saw the guest rooms-" Matthew prompts, his voice cold enough to make Delilah shiver.

"Y-y-yes, sir. I s-saw the bedrooms... I didn't see m-much in them though... they seemed very plain. There were those... dog kennels? I assumed for... guests' pets? Since you have Whiskey, it'd be best if they all weren't roaming around... right?"

Matthew lets out a light chuckle as he releases the chair and walks around to Cathy again, taking the phone from her as she offers it up to him. "That's a good guess. But no. I don't allow canines in my home, except under very, very limited circumstances. Rarely do I have anyone that needs to bring their canine along when they come to visit. And in any case, when I have, they've proven... incompatible with Whiskey and Brandy before him. I do hate to see dogs fight." He unlocks the phone and walks over to Delilah, turning it around so she could see it. She goes white as a sheet as she gets a full view of her naked self on that very same couch, legs spread as wide as her flexible, athletic body could manage while she had her hand covering her pussy, likely with something in her hand and all from the perspective of the television, giving it a perfect view of her.

Stunned, Delilah looks at the television, trying to spot the camera and fails to notice anything amiss. Not even a speck seemed out of place. She looks at the phone again. It was definitely her. And her masturbating in Matthew's house. And... oh no.

Matthew began scrolling through the images slowly, enunciating his words with a new image of Delilah's depraved weekend in his home. "You see, Dee, I am part of a sort of... club. A lovely little group who enjoy some unique pleasures. And it seems-" he slides to a short recording from inside the sex dungeon and showed Delilah fumbling around with the sex swing, trying to see how it would have worked before giving up and going back to the toy wall. "-that you might be a perfect addition to it."

Delilah looks up at him, head swimming and body sweating. He... couldn't... "D-do... what do you mean by that... Matthew?"

The man smiles in a dominant fashion, exuding confidence and ownership. "I mean I'm going to give you the opportunity to spend a lot more time here. I am curious to see if you're any good at following commands... if I can teach you any tricks." He says, leaning on his words as if referring to training a dog. He scrolls to another short video where Delilah was naked on all fours in his living room, Whiskey locked outside as she was clearly trotting around with that tail plug in her bottom. This one included audio and she barked a few times before chastising herself for being stupid and stood up, pulling the tail from her ass with a yelp before the clip ended.

Delilah was mortified. He'd seen everything. And...

"W-wait... please, you can't... I know... you... what do you want for... that?" She asked, looking up with a terrified expression.

Matthew's face was unchanged. Just... knowing. He held his thumb over the phone, ready to scroll to the next entry in Delilah's humiliation. "I want you, miss Chanson. I have a proposition for you." He doesn't respect her unspoken request and scrolls to the full audio, full video recording of Delilah scurrying into the living room naked, dripping water and cum as she went, and Whiskey bowling into her, mounting her again as she desperately screams for the dog to stop, the loud moans as he penetrates her, and the scream as she gets knotted. Delilah stares at the screen, utterly frozen as she watches herself pull Whiskey's body into her own before passing out just to watch the dog hump and buck for a while before eventually turning around and trying to tug his knotted cock free only to fail. After a while, the man finally stopped it, but it was clear the video was far from over.

"And my proposition is you'll do everything I say, when I say it, how I say it... and if you do, you won't have to deal with the consequences of your lusts."

Delilah stared at him, gasping for words as it felt like he'd just dropped a punch into her gut. "T-that's... blackmail. You... that's illegal! You'd... that'd never-"

"Hold up in court, get me sued, most likely. You'd win, too. Mommy-dearest was a lawyer, wasn't she? I'm sure she'd fight hard for her little darling." Matthew says, almost snidely, before slipping his phone into his pocket. "And you'd never be free of it. I can post these anywhere, disseminate them among my circle. Hell, your own father might even stumble upon it, given the nature of this neighborhood. Not everyone here is as squeaky clean as they claim to be. Though, I might be the only one who's going to have a new pet in a minute." He grins as he reaches down and catches her chin, making Delilah flinch and start crying quietly with tears dripping down her cheeks and over his hand. She knew she was caught like a rat in a trap. From the corner of her eye, she saw the blonde stand up and walk off towards the front of the house.

"P-please... don't do this..." Delilah whimpers as Matthew holds her chin firmly. She's met only by a smile as she hears high heels returning to the living room and Matthew lets the blonde woman place a dog collar in his hand. So that's why he had so many... Delilah finds herself thinking for a moment before he lets her chin out of his hand.

"Your call, Dee. Wear the collar and be my little bitch... or I ensure anyone who matters knows what you've done... I'm sure mommy and daddy would be crushed to know their little darling fucked my dog." Matthew's voice fills with a taunting tone. Not... angry even, just... like he'd won. Won a game she didn't even know she'd entered. She looks down as he holds open the sturdy, rugged leather collar the blonde had brought him and the silver D-ring at the neck of it. The buckles were solid and a frantic inspection as he brought it near even revealed a small keyhole on the buckle. It was a locking collar.

Delilah desperately looked to the blonde woman just to see her demurely standing to the side, hands folded neatly in front of her and calmly watching the 18-year-old get given an ultimatum like no other. And as Delilah's eyes locked onto the woman's own collar... she briefly wondered just what she'd done to get ensnared by Matthew as well.

Slowly, she let out a shuddering breath and more tears as she leaned forward and pulled her hair away from her neck, placing her own neck into the collar and letting Matthew close it around her with a resounding snap as it locked shut. And it already fit perfectly... like it was made for her.

Matthew hooks his finger into the big D-ring at the front of Delilah's collar and tugs, lifting it up and tilting her face up as his knuckle pushes into the underside of her chin, shutting her mouth as she wept. "Good bitch. Let's get some ground rules established... set expectations. I'm going to make you into my little pet. Another little dog around the home. In every sense. You want to protest at any point, then every minute of recordings goes public. Every sex toy you pounded yourself with, every thrust of that dog's body into yours... your time here in my house is at my discretion. Do I make myself clear?"

Delilah chokes back a sob as she nods, eyes filled with tears as she felt her world crashing down around her.

And you only have yourself to blame, Dee... nobody made you fuck that dog, nobody made you fuck yourself in a stranger's house.

"Good bitch. Your first rule? You're no better than a dog, you have to earn more. That means you crawl unless told to stand. You eat and drink from bowls on the floor. You do not speak unless told to. You go in and out of the house through that dog door." He says, pointing at Whiskey's doggy door, though the excitable canine was nowhere to be seen presently. It did indeed look large enough for a human, given that it was large enough for him. "And you don't get clothes. In here, you're a bitch, a female dog, not a human. Strip."

Delilah flinches and shakes at each rule he lays out. It was a humiliating set of standards. But his last command was what made her balk. "Wh-what? Wait, I-"

SMACK

Delilah's face goes to the side as her cheek burns. Matthew had lashed out and struck her face and he catches her cheek in his hand, pinching it and making it burn more as she whines around his thumb forced into her mouth. "No speaking, bitch. Not unless I tell you to. Being spoken to does not give you the right to speak. I told you to strip and what you just agreed to was to follow every order. That means immediately and to the letter, regardless of how you feel about it. But for a brand new bitch like yourself, perhaps that was too vague."

Matthew tugs on Delilah's cheek, pulling her up suddenly from the chair and causing her to stumble forward awkwardly. He puts his foot into the back of her knee and drives her to the floor, letting her face slip from his grip as he places her into a submissive kneeling posture. "Strip means you will remove your clothes immediately with no regard for content, company, or location. Your clothes come off in entirety. You fold your bottom wear neatly, place your top wear on it, and then your underwear on top of that, assuming you had any. That is what it means to strip. You do it thoroughly, completely, and properly. You're not some street stray. You're my bitch now." Matthew looms over her as he forces her to remain on her knees, more out of fear than of physical touch. "Now strip."

Delilah shivers as his voice gets colder and colder, more forceful with each breath he took as he informed her exactly what he expected and not an ounce of it was wholesome. He reaches down and grabs her collar, tugging it forward again to unbalance her as she sat on her knees. "Strip or you'll learn what punishment means. Disobedience begets punishment. Last chance. Strip. Now."

Delilah sucks in a breath as he releases her collar and she steals one last look at the blonde woman but only gets a calm stare back. And a tiny smile from her. The woman was enjoying this. Delilah had faintly hoped that maybe she was a victim too and might help her, but she was just as perverted, twisted, and deranged as Matthew!

And without allowing herself another thought, Delilah puts her hands under her shirt and pulls it over her head with shaking hands. She slips it all the way off and sets it aside as she sat there in a plain black bra. She hauls herself to her feet and looks away from Matthew as she unbuttons her jeans and rolls them down her shapely, shaven legs. She shivers as she steps out of the denim and stands in her underwear in front of Matthew. Sure, he had proof he'd seen all of her... but not in person!

But even as she stepped out of her jeans and showed off her plain and comfortable black panties and bra, Matthew's stoic stance with arms loosely folded across his chest and that blonde woman pulling her leg up and resting her elbow on her knee, tilting her head into her open palm to watch the younger girl disrobe, Delilah knew she wasn't released from expectation. Timidly, she reached back to unclasp her bra and let it fall from her chest, exposing her petite and perky C-cup breasts to the man who barely even looked down at them. She covered herself with a shaking arm as her knees pressed together and her free hand slid down to work her panties off her hips and shimmy them down her legs. Cathy let out a soft giggle as she watched Delilah wiggle her ass to get her black panties off and finally stepped free and immediately pressed her hand over her groin, covering her pink nipples and slightly-red labia from immediate view. All over her hips and waist were lingering scratch marks and scrapes. Each mark a reminder of what she'd done.

The tall, dominant man in front of her cleared his throat pointedly as she shuddered like a leaf in the living room. "Fold them neatly, bitch. You're not done." Matthew snaps out as Delilah pauses after stripping down, left in only her new dog collar Matthew had put on her.

With a lump of ice in her gut, Delilah crouched down in a way to try and hide herself with her legs and tried to recall the order he told her to fold things. She started with her jeans and set them down followed closely by her shirt. Then her bra and finally she laid her panties on top of the pile and curled into herself.

Matthew walked around her slowly. He didn't touch her, didn't seem interested in her carnally and merely inspected her. Delilah felt like she had a shark swimming around her with her blood in the water. Finally, she felt his hand curl around her collar from behind, tightening it against her neck as he pulled slowly, drawing her upright as the leather bit into her throat. His voice was filled with a sense of finality as he spoke only a few words.

"Good bitch. You'll get better. I'll make sure of it."