Paul Gable - Mom and her dog

"Haven't you had enough?" she wailed, drawing her shorts up to her thighs, covering her tits while searching for her halter.

The men let her dress, unlocking the garage door and letting the violated teenager out.

"Remember, baby, you tell anyone about what happened and sic the cops on us and we'll find you," Ron warned, putting two fingers to his lips and raising his eyebrows.

Traci looked around her as the door slammed shut again. There was no one around. The fog was beginning to creep in, rolling like smoke over the tops of the surrounding apartments and condos. In the distance, she could hear the ocean crashing against the beach, the sound deadened by the thickening marine layer. It was so peaceful, so quiet. She couldn't believe that she had been violently raped, humiliated the way she was.

Covering her face with both hands, Traci hurried down the alley toward Emily's house. She couldn't face her mother now. No! That would be too awful. Emily would be someone she could talk to without worrying about shocking her. Yes, she had to talk to someone about those dreadful things that happened to her!

An hour later Hilda received a call from Traci's best friend.

"Of course," she said, sitting down and tapping her fingers on the telephone table. "Of course, she can spend the night there, Emily. But clothes? Oh, you have things there? Well, I guess. But can I talk to her? I see. Well, tell her to call when she gets out," Hilda said, hanging up the receiver.

Now that was odd. Why was her daughter staying over at Emily's? Something was up, she suspected. But at this point Hilda didn't want to push the issue. Strained relations between her and her daughter could break. Emily's family was respected even if the girl seemed a little too flighty at times. Hilda sighed, pushing back her hair and rising from the chair. In a way, she was glad. She began to tense whenever her daughter came rushing in through the front door, bubbling with some kind of information that was sure to upset her. At times Hilda thought Traci purposely thought up stories to annoy her. Well, there would be peace for once this evening.

"Ahhh," she sighed, picking up the newspaper television magazine and picking through it. There would be nothing better for her to do this evening than watch the tube. How dull, how lifeless her life had become, especially when her daughter wasn't around stirring things up. Hilda frowned, throwing the magazine down to the floor in annoyance. She paced the living room, one hand covering her mouth, the other nervously moving up and down her sides. Was her life going to be like this, like sitting in a blank room staring at the walls with nothing to hope for? She pressed one hand against her burning forehead. She was still young, still beautiful by most standards, still desirable. Hilda wasn't blind. She'd seen men's eyes following her as she went shopping. But no, she was too proud, too careful about what others might say about her and her daughter if she were to slip. That had happened once and Traci came out of the deal. She couldn't risk another time. Pregnant at her age? The thought was laughable!

Hilda stopped in front of the yawning fireplace and closed her eyes. Ohh, that burning itch again! It made her legs weak. The cords stood out against her neck as she opened her mouth and gulped in air. The room seemed to sway back and forth. Her cunt moved, actually moved like a tiny, frightened animal.

This had to stop. No, she wasn't going to give in as she had the last time. That awful, awful dog was around someplace. If he caught wind of her hot pussy, if he smelled her juicing cunt it would be all over. She had to have a drink, something that would calm her down. Traci wouldn't be home this evening. Alone, all alone. Somehow that thought was violently exciting. Hilda shivered, rubbing her upper arms briskly with opened palms. Yes, alone, alone with the dog.

"No!"

She shook her head violently, walking up to the open bar and grabbing onto the gin bottle. Her hands were shaking as she dropped several cubes into a tall glass, then poured two shots in. She didn't drink often. But this night Hilda guessed she'd be well plowed by the time the late news came on.

"Oh!"

The liquor felt good sliding down her throat, burning her chest and warming her belly. It seemed to take off the edge, at least temporarily. Reaching up, Hilda pulled the clasp from her hair that held the tight bun in place. It felt good having her hair come down like that, splashing over her face and shoulders. She shook it gently from side to side, leaning against the bar and taking another sip of the comforting liquor. She had thought about going to bars several times. In a city as large as Los Angeles she could surely find anonymity. But then what would she do? At her age the men were either divorced and screwed up or playing around. No, she didn't need outraged wives or crocodile tears on her shoulder. Maybe alone was the only way she'd find peace. It seemed so awful, though.

"Oh!"

Hilda's thoughts stopped. Standing in the door-way was Rex!

"Go away," Hilda slurred, having poured another drink.

The big Doberman had lain down by the sofa, his powerful head resting on his forepaws. Hilda was more sure of herself this time. She couldn't show the dog any weakness, any inclination that she wanted him to attack her the same way he had earlier. No, she was past that. It was just something terribly silly – silly and awful. It wouldn't happen again.

"Damned dog," she murmured, tipping the glass against her lips and taking another drink. The ice tinkled merrily as Rex watched his mistress become drunker and drunker. Hilda glanced at the big clock above the fireplace. It was still relatively early. Maybe she could slip out, avoiding the neighbors' curious glances.

"Why am I so damned worried about them?" she wondered out loud.

But she was. She worried about what everyone said about her, what they thought, how they acted. Oh, it was such a mess! She pushed herself off the bar and started walking across the room to the television set. Oh, bow shallow her breathing had become! The friction of her swollen cuntlips over her clit as she walked had become very intense. The liquor wasn't helping now. It had first dulled her sensations. Now it was intensifying them, tearing down the feelings racing up and down her quivering thighs. But now it was useless. She could hear the ice tinkling in the glass as her fingers trembled. In addition, there was a low, humming-like sound coming from somewhere in the living room. It didn't take Hilda long to realize that it was Rex growling with excitement.

She froze, opening her eyes and peering down at the animal. He was still lying down. But his head was up now, his black nostrils quivering as he caught the scent of her hot pussy. Soon he'd be up, pursuing her as he had earlier.

"No, no!" she said, more to herself than to the Doberman. Hilda turned away from the dog, hugging her body. This couldn't happen again. She wasn't going to let it. She'd run up to her bedroom, run from him the way she'd run from a human attacker. Attacker? Hilda giggled, swaying drunkenly from side to side as she turned and made her way to the stairs. Hilda was attributing human characteristics to a silly, dumb animal. What was happening to her mind? It was as if she were burning out, her loneliness creeping around her and destroying her like a cancer.

"Oh!"

Once again Rex blocked her escape. She stopped, her body trembling with fear. Why were her shoulders shaking so? And that swelling ball of sexual hunger in her belly, whriling around like a plummeting comet… why was that happening? She was panting, panting like a dog. Her fingers trembled more violently. No, no, she couldn't be wanting him to lick her, to do the same thing! That was impossible! She turned again, staring out the large picture window. Oh God, people could see inside if they chose to look! Rushing to the drapes, Hilda dropped the drink on the floor and grabbed onto the ropes, pulling hard. The long velvet drapes rushed together, providing the secrecy Hilda wanted.