Nicole Duval - The breeders

Carolyn's throat was dry. It was hard to swallow, hard to speak. The faint scent of fear which animals sense had invaded the cage area and all the Danes were on their feet and pacing nervously back and forth in their cages.

"One last question, my dear," Jason said with a contented sigh, "and then we can get on with our party preparations. Carolyn, how does one train an animal not to embarrass its owner in front of less understanding guests who might visit the home occasionally?"

Her voice had the mechanical sound of an old wind-up phonograph, weirdly falsetto and trembling.

"From the first day of sex training, a dog must be oriented to key words… down, for instance, should mean no smelling, licking or sex indications. If the dog's organ is dragging in front of a guest, a sharp slap directly to the offending organ will kill the urge instantly and it will disappear back into its sheath. A hard thump with the thumb and forefinger, like shooting marbles, will accomplish the same thing. The owner or trainer must select a specific word for each service the dog is to perform and he is trained to respond only to that word and not to act upon his own. Some dogs are trained to respond only to patting on the part of the body he is to work on, some associate sex services only with an unclothed body. The important secret is to never under any circumstances vary the dog's signals."

Finally silent, Carolyn no longer had the memorized words to hide behind. Jason smiled at her, his dark eyes bright with satyric luster, and nodded his head with approval.

"You have learned your lessons well, my dear," he leered at her crossed legs, "and now you shall enjoy your reward."

He stood up, waved a beckoning hand at his assistant and walked to the row of large storage cabinets behind the pup cages. He pressed a section of the floor molding and turned to smile at the trembling girl. Behind him, one whole cabinet and the three foot section of wall behind it moved on its own axis and revealed a hidden room. Carolyn stared. She had not known about the hidden door… nor the sadistic torments that must lie within. A small sob caught in her throat.

"Come, come, you two. Don't tarry." Jason had picked up one of the braided whips on his way across the room and he slapped it against his leg impatiently now. "Our guests are anxious to meet you again, Carolyn… under less formal, less restrictive circumstances. Controlled experiments are such a bore, don't you agree?"

Jason held the door open and beckoned for his two charges to enter. Mario slid off his stool, hitched his tight continentals up to ease the strain on his heavy-headed organ which bounced freely in the open fly, and headed for the door with a smile on his face. It had been a long time, too long, since he had been involved with more than the daily routines of sex training.

He liked the special effects of Jason's cruelties. It always meant something different, something exciting, for him too for Jason inevitably worked his victims up to fever pitch and left them wanting and begging for help. Mario smiled as he went through the door. He would help them. He would feed their ravenous appetites. Tube feed them, like hungry helpless babes, until they cried enough… and a little more.

"We're waiting, Carolyn," Jason flicked the braided quirt against his pant leg. "I do hope you will join us… willingly."

Carolyn knew she had no choice. She forced her reluctant legs to carry her across the room, past Jason's extended arm on the door, and into the secret room. Perhaps it wouldn't be… too bad. After all, she had known the dogs for two months, worked with them, known the feel of their tongues and their humps. 'Uncontrolled experiment' Jason had said. Uncontrolled? The word worried her. If Jason merely intended for her to take on the nine Danes one after the other to see her suffer, welll… she would be totally exhausted, probably raw and sore, but she could stand it. But he had said 'uncontrolled' and 'experiment' and she felt the chill of mortal fear at the sound of his voice mouthing the words. She heard the door swing shut behind her. Escape was gone.

"Well now," Jason began, "why don't we all get comfortable for the party, hmmm?" He began unbuttoning the top buttons of his expensive sport shirt and looked expectantly first at Mario and then at Carolyn.

"You can lay your things here," he indicated the line of velour covered theater-type seats which ran in a single circular row around the perimeter of the room. "You too, my dear."

Carolyn shivered. There was no use putting off the inevitable. If he found her obedience too slow, he would use the bite of the whip to speed her up. She had learned that lesson the hard way and had a few faint scars to remind her of his accuracy. She reached behind her and slid the long zipper down the back of her dress, let it slide off her shoulders, down her slim body and then carefully stepped out of it. It's fresh cherry color was sensually dramatic against the deep royal blue of the velour seats. Royal Benson blue, she thought ironically, what else? Jason had bent over and was fussing with a knotted shoe string. It gave Carolyn a minute to look around the secret room, 'the arena' Jason had called it.

It was an average size room, perhaps fifteen feet square, but there the normalcy ended. Theatre seats had been bolted to the floor in a perfect circle. There were twenty chairs in all, an opening the width of two additional seats left on each side of the room, one where the swinging doors had let them in and another on the opposite side of the room before a second doorway.

Carolyn wondered where the doorway led. She had never been beyond the lab area. Mario cared for the show dogs, some of whom he had said were kenneled in the outer areas. Naive to the point of stupidity, she chided herself, she had never given a thought to what else lay beyond the door. Perhaps if she had known, she would not have decided to remain at Royal Benson Kennels for the sake of the money.

She pressed a speculative finger into the royal blue velour of the near seat. It was expensively padded and soft. It would be, she knew. Jason Benson could afford the best and it made him feel important to prove his worth to anyone… even to whomever shared the seats of this barbaric stage. That's what it was, she was certain. What else could it be? She looked about carefully. Perhaps there was a clue to its use. The walls were subtly toned in shades of blue. Well appointed light fixtures, shaded and pointed toward the ceiling, gave the room the faintly ethereal appearance of an old Grecian stage in the moonlight. Just within the entrance door hung a plate of silent switches which could, no doubt, heighten the lighting effects. Jason was effective… if immoral.

Subconsciously perhaps, Carolyn had avoided looking at the center stage but now her eyes could avoid it no longer. The blue patterned carpeting reached from the wall beneath the seats, then a circle of subtle gold about twelve inches wide encircled the raised dais of the stage. The stage itself was raised some six inches above the normal floor level and was carpeted in the same solid royal blue tone of the velour seats and decorations. She didn't bend to touch its texture but she knew that it would be thick and dense and luxuriously soft beneath her fingers. It was a lovely room… she wished she was not a part of its brutal entertainment.

Jason's eyes had been on the girl for some time, watching her expressions as she surveyed the opulence of the room, enjoying the controlled revulsion that flooded her eyes as she stared at the raised platform center. She knew, she thought she knew what lay ahead for her… but the subtle gnawing fear of not being sure gave her a helpless appeal. Jason's usually dormant desires were already warming with anticipation. He pressed his hands, palms flat, against his groin and held them there. He could feel the warmth of body heat and the small bulge that meant his penis was beginning to make ready beneath his pants. He undid the button and released the zipper lock.