Delilah's Dog Days

"Miss Chanson? Yes, yes, Orem. Matthew, you recall? Your daughter was doing me a huge favor by coming over and tending my dog for the weekend. Yes, that Orem. Well, that's what I was calling about, actually. No, she didn't do anything wrong. In fact, I'd like to keep her."

Delilah looks up with tearful eyes as she remains on her hands and knees, bowed forward on the carpet at Cathy's feet and licking slowly. Matthew had given her, his new pet, a task to keep her busy while he made a phone call. And now her face was stained from her tears and her entire body quivered in shame and disgrace as the blonde woman casually moved her feet to make Delilah follow them obediently, tormenting her by lifting her bare foot up and out of reach, forcing Delilah to crane her neck or pushing it forward and stuffing a toe or two into Delilah's whimpering mouth. And all the while, Matthew was on the phone with her mother! Talking about her!

"I misspoke, I mean I would like to have her services more frequently. She did a delightful job making my dog, Whiskey, feel like the most special dog in the world and he's been moping non-stop since she left and, after I asked her over to finish up some things here, he's been right as rain. So I think she's the key, really. Would you mind terribly if I had her over a lot more often? I understand she's due for some serious college preparations, and she'd be allowed that, but I think having her here, say... every weekend would be quite nice."

Delilah twitched at that suggestion. Every weekend? He's going to make me come here and humiliate myself... every weekend? His next words horrified her.

"More often, you say? She's been acting up at home and some personal responsibility would do her some good? Funny you say that. I have a very similar opinion for my dog. He's always a bit fussy but the moment he gets a bone or a new toy to play with, he's all business. Maybe teenagers are just the same!" He laughs, but not in a cruel, sadistic way, but more in a jovial way. The kind of laugh that two people share when they're both casually chatting and find something equally amusing. "So... what if she were here during the week and came home on weekends? She's welcome to stay here in my spare room, and I can never cook my portions right since my wife left. Always make enough for a two or more and Whiskey needs to watch his weight. That works? Wonderful, I'll let her know. Thank you, miss Chanson. I'm sure she'll have a wonderful time."

Delilah shivers as he turns to look at her, hanging up the phone with a knowing expression and a sadistic glint in his eye.

"So, Bitch, you heard every word of that, yes? Dear old mommy isn't coming to save you... and you get the pleasure of staying here and learning your place. Isn't that exciting?" He walks over and grabs the girl's black-dyed hair. The shoulder-length nature of it made it easy to use as a handle and he pulled her off of Cathy's feet and let her sob and weep more openly, staring directly into his face. Her chin and lips were covered in her own spit and drool, her cheeks flushed and eyes red from openly crying. She couldn't even form a coherent word and if she had, she'd be struck again as he enforced his "no talking" rule for her. "And, I'm sure you've figured it out, but if you tell her, or anyone for that matter, about anything I do not permit you to speak on, then I'll send off my recordings and images of you and ensure your life experiences some dramatic changes. Do I make myself clear?"

Delilah whimpers, stifling a sob as she chokes and nods, the action causing her to tug her hair against his hand a bit, making her wince in pain.

"Good. Today, we're going to get you started on your new expectations and behavior. Start training you. Cathy will assemble your kennel in her guest room and you'll get to learn what it means to demonstrate your submission, I'm sure." Matthew's middle-aged features show a growing amount of depraved excitement, though he manages to keep much of it hidden. "After all, what else is a bitch good for but pleasing her master?"

Delilah shuddered as he spoke and lowered his hand, not waiting for her to speak up or argue against it. And as he lowered his hand, he pushed her down to the floor again and made her get on her hands and knees once more, totally nude and powerless to resist.

"Cathy, dear, go and get her cage assembled in your guest room, if you would be so kind. I think she'd enjoy not being alone overnight."

"But sir-"

Delilah looks up as Cathy starts to protest the room assignment, catching a loathsome glare from Cathy before the blonde woman neutralizes her expression and bows her head slightly. It took Delilah a moment to realize Matthew was staring absolute daggers at her, even as he held Delilah's hair like a short leash.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I'll get right on it."

Matthew's grip on Delilah's hair remained until Cathy, still dressed in her rather revealing casual top and skirt, made her way to the stairs and up to the second floor. Only then did Matthew release her hair and nudge her with his foot. Delilah, blinking past tears that refused to stop, looked up at him with hatred. Dressed neatly in those slacks and that white button up, he was an image of professionalism in the home. And she was the image of humiliation. Forced to strip down, her phone stuck in her pocket and effectively confiscated as Matthew had taken her clothing and put it on the counter top. The counter she was too short to reach while on all fours like this. If he left, though...

If he left... then what? Grab your things, call the police, and have him release that video of you getting fucked by a dog? Call mom? She thinks you're staying here willingly... dad would think the same! This stupid Cathy woman is his crony... you really screwed up this time, Dee.

"I want to ensure you learn a few things, Bitch, and then we can build from there." Matthew said calmly as he looked down at her, not a hint of remorse on his face, purely and genuinely enjoying her predicament. "First, and most obviously, you will respond to instructions and directions given. And always respond to your new name... I'm sure you don't need to be told it's merely temporary, but it's a bad idea to get attached to things that might leave." He leans forward a bit, that confident smile widening, "There's no telling if you'll go running just yet. So until you decide to stay here willingly, you'll be my little Bitch. And as such, you'll live up to the title. Every day that you're here, you will crawl on all fours, as you are now. You will eat from your dog bowl at the same time as Whiskey. You'll use the bathroom outside like a regular dog and, if you behave, I won't force you to go on walks around the block."

Delilah couldn't help but listen intently. Not when each sentence heaped more impending humiliation on her. And the thought of being forced to crawl around the neighborhood like this... that would ruin her anyway! Even without the videos going public...

"But really... you coming here and revealing what a depraved whore you are was such excellent timing. Whiskey's in his rut right now. I know you saw what I mean, you could hardly miss him rutting on pillows or your ass. He's bound to hump just about everything and not stop until he wears himself out. Which, given his youth, will take a long, long time. You are going to learn your place as his bitch to tend to those needs. Eventually, anyway." Matthew catches a sudden look of shock on Delilah's face, breaking through her tearful expression. He says, his voice dripping with mockery, "You're just a filthy dog after all, aren't you? You belong with your own breed." Delilah could barely hold herself together as she realized he was serious about reducing her to the state of a pathetic animal. A mutt. His bitch. The name on that silver dog bowl suddenly made everything crystal clear and Delilah was left wondering how many other "Bitches" had come and gone through this house. Especially as Cathy was upstairs assembling one of the kennels she'd seen during her explorations... a kennel for her.

Matthew turns and starts walking, looking back for a mere moment to utter, "Come." His single spoken command gave Delilah a pretty undesirable choice. Go to wherever he was taking her, like a dog without a lead, or resist and risk being forced to go. Reluctantly, she turned and began to crawl after him. She grunted and whined quietly as she got off the carpet and onto the tiled floor, her knees unaccustomed to being her primary walking surface. The shame she felt of her ass wiggling side to side as she crawled burned her cheeks red and her eyes only watered more as she tried to blink away tears. How had this all gone so wrong? She'd just wanted to have some fun this summer!

Her blackmailer walks her straight to the back patio door and slides it open but pauses in the doorway. He turns and looks at her with just his head and a dismissive look.

"Good dogs get to skip the dog door. You don't."

Before Delilah can really figure out what he's saying he'd stepped out and shut the door behind himself, leaving only the sturdy plastic doggy door for her to exit the house and follow him outside by. She shivered as she bowed her head, watching tears drip onto the tiled floor as she crawled to the doggy door. It was only as she reached it and sized it up did she realize she was alone right now. At least, for the moment. Matthew was outside, awaiting her, Cathy was upstairs and wouldn't notice... she'd have a head start if she bolted for the front door. Surely... she could make it, right?

And Delilah watched as her body lifted her right hand and pushed at the doggy flap and bowed her head low to get underneath it. Her shoulders were only just narrow enough to fit, causing the plastic frame to scrape against her bare skin on her shoulders and hips as she wiggled through, grunting softly as she worked her way out of the humiliating access point. She only just cleared the flap when Matthew grabbed up her hair again and dragged her the rest of the way out, forcing her to crawl fast across the patio and then the sun-heated slabs of the pool deck and finally out into the grass.

And, sitting there in the grass with a gnawed bone between his paws, eyes up and alert, ears pointed, was Whiskey.

Matthew forced Delilah onto the back lawn and cast her beside Whiskey, the dog much more obedient now that Matthew was here rather than the poor teenage girl who'd struggled to get him to even stay off a couch for thirty minutes. The canine watched with focused eyes as Delilah, his mate in a sense, was forced to the grass beside him and barely reacted beyond a few quick inquisitive sniffs and a slight shifting on his paws while resisting the urge to leap on her. Even with her limited animal experience, Delilah could tell it was taking a lot of self-control on Whiskey's part to remain still.

"Get yourself together, Bitch. We're doing some simple command training, not running a marathon. The sun's out, it's a lovely day, and you need to know how to present yourself if you're going to be my pet." Matthew says as he re-rolls his sleeves up, looming over Delilah as she scrambled around to look at him and try to distance herself slightly from the German Shepherd beside her. All around her, the privacy fences that had offered her the chance to roam around all but nude felt like prison walls. Matthew speaks up again as she looks around frantically, still on the verge of open sobs. "Oh? Did you think I meant you'd be my pet metaphorically? No, Bitch, you will be my pet. Commands, posture, behavior... all of it. Otherwise, you wouldn't ever be worth presenting to my type of people, now would you?"

Delilah's stomach churns as she hears him admonish her but more so when he suggests presenting her. He'd show her off? To other people!? She isn't given time to consider nor argue this as he starts giving his first instructions, all while Whiskey watches intently. Delilah, even despite her frantic state, still found herself subconsciously closing her legs while near the big canine.

"Firstly, you need to learn to sit, Bitch. It's simple enough even you can manage it." Matthew says with a splash of disdain in his voice as Delilah curls up on the grass before him. "Firstly, you'll straighten your back, rest on your knees and point your feet out behind you, resting on your shins. Place your fists balled-up between your knees and spread your knees comfortably. Go."

Delilah snaps her eyes up at him, cried-out and drying but still puffy and red from her weeping. "W-what? That'd expose my-"

Matthew's hand appears around the back of her collar, his hand sliding past her neck in a flash before he yanks it hard, drawing her more upright and choking her as his voice and face turn to ice. "You aren't given permission to speak, Bitch. It is not speak when spoken to... it is speak when permitted to. If you wish to voice your concerns, bark for me like the useless little bitch you are. Otherwise, fucking sit down."

Matthew's hand pulls forward, forcing Delilah to lurch forward as he drives her face into the grass. "On your knees, toes back, fists down. Last chance."

As Delilah scrambles beneath his hand, she hears Whiskey let out some whines and yips, seeing her get thrown around like this she assumes, and the moment that Matthew's hand uncurls from the sturdy collar locked around her neck she quickly forces herself back up, sputtering with some blades of grass in and around her mouth. She hurriedly sits down, planting her knees into the lawn and resting on her heels as she points her toes back, flattening the tops of her feet into the ground. Her hands thump down into the grass and curl into fists, shuddering at the force and speed with which he'd taken control of her collar after disobeying. Even the slightest infraction seemed to be a personal offense for him. Lastly, she straightens her back and realizes this brings her head and face up, making her look at him. She whimpers and sniffles with a quivering lip before turning her face and refusing to look at him.

Matthew lets her get situated before stepping forward and walking around her slowly. He looks at her black-dyed hair splayed out over her upper back and the brown roots at her hairline. He nudges her ankle with his foot, "Straighten up. You're slouching with a weak foundation here, Bitch." He chides, his voice softening to that of an instructor instead of angry owner. He continues his inspection before suddenly crouching down beside her, opposite the direction she was staring and reaches down to plant his hand on the inside of her right thigh and sharply tug it outwards. "I said spread your knees, Bitch. It'll keep you more stable and present yourself properly. When you're a pet, you don't get to think of modesty and comfort. You do as you're told and you please your masters. Understood?" He asks, his voice low and steady. His hand never leaves the supple flesh of her inner thigh and slowly glides upward, making Delilah, tightly clenching her fists and biting her lip to prevent herself from responding, shudder in fear and discomfort. Right until Matthew's fingers brush up her thigh and over her pussy lips, the clean-shaven folds that had been so eagerly prepared for a summer of sex and pleasure sullied by a canine's penetration and her blackmailer's new ownership.

And those folds were wet.

Matthew's hand doesn't move away, instead starting to caress and rub against her labia and making Delilah stiffen up and finally snap her face around to look at him, looking beyond offended, angry, and humiliated. And she knew that if she spoke, he'd only treat her harsher.

His lip curls into a smile as he pulls his hand away, his fingers damp with her shameful arousal and wipes it off on his sturdy black slacks. "Good bitch. You can sit. Two more positions for you and then we'll start walking training. You need to learn to heel and stay, after all." He stands up and rests his hand on top of her head, gripping it lightly. "Next is beg. A nice posture to begin servicing from, a cute way to present yourself for guests, and a good way to take treats. It's simple. Stand upright on your knees, hands loosely curled and framing your puppy tits. Give them a good little squeeze together for good measure. After all, you're here to please, remember? Bitch? Beg."

Delilah shudders at the series of directions and worse when he calls her by that horrible name and gives her the order to beg. She wanted to scream and tell him that she wasn't doing this anymore, that she was a person and deserved to be respected as such. She also knew he'd smack her again and make this hurt on top of being humiliating, and that wouldn't stop him from releasing those videos and ruining her life permanently. She could bear this. It was just for the summer...

Cautiously, Delilah starts to bring herself up. Her hands leave the grass and her back straightens. The sun casts warmth on her chest and belly, letting Matthew have a full, unobstructed view of her perky C-cup bust, those rosy pink nipples, her smooth, toned abdomen and her faintly glistening cunt, barely peeking out from between her thighs. She brings her hands up and curls her wrists forward, loosely closing her hands and presses them to her chest, on either side of her breasts. She looks away with a blush and scowl on her pretty face. Matthew grunts once and taps her grass-stained knee with a shoe.

"Close the knees for this. It's cute of you to offer it, but you're begging not offering like this. Though, if you wanted something in that mouth of yours..."

Delilah lets out a low growl of a noise as she slides her knees together in the grass, giving her some manner of relief as her groin gets obscured a bit more but this still left her entire torso and face in view. If a single neighbor peeked over the fence...

"That'll do. You'll develop a style of your own, Bitch. In time, you might even smile or pant with that tongue hanging out. Whiskey sure does."

Delilah flushes even redder but does turn and take a peek at Whiskey, the canine having been mostly respectfully staying in place but now he too was sitting upright, tapping his forepaws in the grass as he'd heard beg and was looking intently at Matthew, as if competing with Delilah for an expected treat. The girl squirmed a bit, a low pit in her stomach making her feel almost inferior to this dog, to be here like this begging for this man's approval. Which is, truly, what she was doing whether she liked it or not. Do as he said and get praised or tell him to fuck off and get punished. This wasn't fair!

"Last one, Bitch, then we'll start walking. Next is play. A much cuter posture, your hands go down, interlock your fingers and put your palms facing down. Rest your chin on your fingers and look up. Knees spread wide and keep your ass up. Understood? Play."

Delilah felt her jaw start to fall open but she caught herself. What even was this!? He was going to make her-

And before she could fully deny the thought, to oppose him or protest, Delilah's body tipped forward. She sank back down and landed on her hands, sliding them through the grass and interlocking her fingers and pressing her palms flat. She was glad she was flexible, childhood ballet lessons came in handy once in a while. She shivered as she brought her head low, resting her chin on her interlocked fingers and found this forced her to crane her neck and look up all but naturally. And, worst of all, she felt her ass rise up behind her as her knees stayed planted. She quivered as she caught a glance from Matthew and slowly spread her knees as far as she could stand. She winced as he started to approach and yelped as his hand came down to clap and grip her right buttock. She tried to turn and look but her vision only got as far as Whiskey, staring straight back at her, tongue out, panting, and with him sitting upright as he was, Delilah's frantic eyes cast over his side and down between his hind legs. And what she saw there... was something she wished she'd never laid eyes on in the first place. Already, just from seeing Delilah nude and moving around like this, likely smelling her scents as the humiliations she was forced through were having an undesirable effect, Whiskey's member was peeking out of its sheath. Not fully erect, but certainly visible.

And then Matthew lifts his hand and slaps it down again, spanking her to get her attention while roughly groping and prying her ass cheeks open to let a bit of fresh air run over her delicate areas, making her squirm even more. "Not bad... the best you've done on your own, Bitch. Something tells me you've been in positions like this before." He says with a chuckle before releasing her buttocks and stepping past her, further onto the lawn. She quivers as the sting of his spank lingers for a moment, her mind fighting against her body and the urge to feel arousal from all this. This was humiliating! Why was she... partially turned on?

"Bitch? Next is heel. A simple command to make you forget anything you were doing, were told to do, or are occupied with, come over to me, and sit beside me. A simple combination. If I'm still moving, you move with me until I stop then sit. I'm sure a smart bitch like you can figure that out, right?" Matthew explains while talking at Delilah, standing behind her at some distance while she still holds her ass up, too afraid to move until told to do so. And she knew full-well this was giving him a clear view of her privates, only making her hate him more for forcing her to debase herself like this.

Finally, he said it. "Bitch? Heel." Delilah flinched and started to rise but then heard a growl from beside her. She thought she heard a brief noise of surprise from Matthew but more importantly, beside her, was a now-standing and prowling beast. Whiskey, the canine that all but matched her in size and weight, was stalking towards her with his head low and that hungry, feral look in his eye. From down here, her face still pressed to her hands on the grass, she could see between his legs and that canine dick that had been slowly growing was now grown and leaking infrequent drops of arousal. Delilah's mind quickly cast back to Matthew telling her Whiskey was in rut and now she was fully aware of it, beyond the humiliations of being made into this man's human pet.

"W-wait, Whiskey... no-" Delilah whimpers softly before shutting her own mouth, anxious that Matthew would punish her. She starts to rise again, eager to go to Matthew for safety but Whiskey just growls again, a canine order to stay put. She tries to look over her shoulder and saw Matthew slowly circling at a distance, keeping her between himself and Whiskey as a look of curiosity appears on his face. She pleads with her eyes, wide and frantic, but only gets a simple command back.

"Belay that order, Bitch. Play. Submit."

Delilah's stomach freezes as she feels a hot exhale over her ear and turns to see Whiskey had arrived at her side, the big German Shepherd sniffing and staring her down, inspecting her, identifying her. She wondered if he felt any kind of possession over her, given that he'd knotted her already. The dog lifted his head slightly and started to step over her, standing over her head and aiming that knotted cock at the side of her face, hanging between his legs. Delilah didn't know what to do. How could she?

"He's offering himself to you, Bitch... aren't you going to show him your submission?" Matthew says calmly, watching his two pets 'play' in the grass. "After all... you're his mate, aren't you? He won't soon forget."

Delilah flushes red all over, her face bright red and the humiliating, painful reminder of her behavior even has her body tingling, her pussy starting to moisten again at the thought, the threat, of being fucked by this feral beast again. She looks at Matthew one more time, pleading with her eyes and getting only a stoic refusal in return. And so, with no options as Whiskey cranes his neck to look at her and growl, as if telling her to get on with it, Delilah slowly lifts her head and her right hand. She can't go up too far, his furred torso keeps her head down, but her hand reaches up to find it. Delilah bites her lip and squints, ashamed of herself as her delicate hand wraps around his slick, veiny, throbbing member and strokes. Her hand glides down the flesh, feeling every bit of the texture and causing her to shiver as her blood curdled. The depravity... of stroking this dog off while being watched. She couldn't believe this is where her offer to dog-sit had led her.

A low rumbling growl emits from the canine above her and Whiskey's head straightens, looking ahead as his left hind paw shifts and steps onto her shoulder blade, pressing her back down and making her bow beneath him. She whimpers softly as she lets her body relax into this position, knowing that Matthew would likely punish her for refusing or Whiskey might chase her down and force her to submit again... he'd done it before.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Matthew circling off from the lawn and towards the poolside but loses track of him as Whiskey shifts and lowers his body, crouching down to better cover her head and bring his cock nearer to her head. She flushed as her hand kept stroking, his tail wagging and beating the air with the occasional batting of her shoulder as he pinned her down with a single paw, his posturing an unspoken command of his "lesser." His mate. Delilah could feel his heartbeat through the warmth of his slick cock, throbbing in her hand and showing his excitement and seeming approval. And, pinned down like this, she didn't have much angle to work with but slowly tried to roll her head and get some clearer air but only got as far as turning her face to look directly at his tapered penis, aimed at her from within her enclosing hand. She shivered at the sight, at the memory of it piercing into her. She flushed red as his musky scent washed over her, dribbles of precum running down her wrist or dripping just past her face into the grass. It was... intoxicating. Vulgar and shameful. But...

Delilah quivered as her body begged for something, anything. Her lusts, so long denied by her lonely life at school. No friends to truly speak of, her life so denied by her parents' strict upbringing. And, with her mind swimming in sensations of fear, pain, hurt, humiliation, shame, and lust, Delilah gently brought her head up and let her tongue extend from her lips to flick over his tip. A quiet yip escapes her canine's mouth at the wet touch of her tongue on his hardened prick and she stops at the mere realization of what she'd just done. What she was still doing as she goes for a second lick while her hand gropes around the base of his canine penis, stroking his knot and rubbing his shaft. Delilah, Matthew's new bitch, bringing her face up to bask in the intoxicating scents and sensations of the Shepherd's musky prick. And the moment her tongue touches it again, she's immediately hit in the teeth with a spurt of milky canine semen.

Delilah yelps and pulls herself back as she realizes instantly Whiskey had just cum. And as she pulls back, her mind too stunned to operate her body properly, her hand keeps stroking and she's hit in the cheek with another spurt. And as Whiskey keeps her pinned down with a paw, she's hit with a third and a fourth, a fifth shot stains her hairline, a sixth burst splatters over her eye, she cries out in surprise and pain as a seventh splashes over and into her ear as her head had turned away from being hit in the eye and while flicking her head to shake out his canine sperm another spurt gets into her hair again. Delilah, still holding Whiskey's knot as his milky, thin semen spurts out, can only cry out and quiver as her knees, spread so far apart to obey Matthew's "Play" command, draws them together and shudders at being given a canine facial, the sheer shame of it all only getting worse as the spurts of cum stop after ten or so blasts and he just... steps off of her. No interest in her condition, Whiskey merely trots off after marking his territory as his and grabs his bone treat and moves off to find a new spot, leaving Delilah coated in semen and shuddering in discomfort and pain. She goes to wipe her eyes and blinks away the worst of it as her tears return to help wash her out and looks up just to see why Matthew had walked off. Cathy had come back and she had Matthew's arm around her waist, and hers around his, and the pair were staring straight back at her, snickering and whispering to one another as Delilah, bent forward in the grass, covered in spunk, naked, and collared, could only stare back as tears welled up inside her again as the scent of canine cum soaked into her skin.

Matthew's voice was dripping with mockery as he called out to her. "Good Bitch. Now... heel. Come to your owner."

Delilah blinked through her tears, sobs choking her throat as she realized she wasn't going to be given even a moment's reprieve. She stiffly brought herself up and, still dripping with Whiskey's cum and her own thighs betraying her body's depravity, began crawling to her new owner.