Nicole Duval - The breeders

"How could you do such an awful thing?" Carolyn whispered hoarsely.

"Me?" Jason laughed. "You were the one who did the 'awful' things, Carolyn. You forced my poor assistant into some very degrading situations. I was really quite shocked! Ah, but then, you shall judge for yourself. Mario, would you start the next roll of film please?"

Carolyn's eyes widened and she flashed a quick look toward Mario. He grinned back and shook his dark head in mock disapproval.

"No!" she shouted. "No, I don't want to see it. I don't know how you made me do those terrible things… it was a trick of some kind, drugs or something… but I don't want to see it. Please. PLEASE."

"Oh, very well." He nodded toward Mario to stop the projector. The room was suddenly very silent without the hum of the machine. "I must say I'm rather disappointed, though. It was a very… stimulating… experience watching that bit of film. You may pack away the reel, Mario. Be sure to lock it up quite safely. Miss Vance may wish to see it again some day."

"You're the one who should be locked up! You're crazy!" She stared at the man across the table, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly that the tips were white and bloodless. "You really are crazy!"

"Crazy…? Like a fox, my dear Miss Vance." The icy smile never left his lips. "Those films are my insurance that you won't try to have me locked up. Or anything else unpleasant. Should you try? I would have to tell the authorities that you used your position with Royal Benson Kennels to try to blackmail me. I would have to show them the films I bought from you at exorbitant prices in order to buy your silence. It was worth the $5,000 you demanded to protect the reputation of the kennels."

"They wouldn't believe you. If it was true, you would have turned me over to the police right then and there."

"Not necessarily. Jason Benson is known as a quiet sensitive man, an artist in his own right. They would understand why I wouldn't want to go into court to testify against you. It would mean publicity, the front pages of every paper. No, the police would understand why a man of my reputation preferred to pay blackmail." He leaned back in the chair and looked at her over the brandy glass cupped in his hand. "I feel quite confident that you would prefer to assist me with my work and remain silent rather than spend ten years in prison for blackmail… should it come to that."

"You couldn't prove blackmail even if you wanted to."

"Oh, but I could." His voice was ripe with confidence. "You see, I withdrew $5,000 in cash from my bank today… in small bills… the cashier who has long handled my personal account was quite concerned with my nervousness. Considerate girl, that, she asked me twice if I was sure everything was all right."

Carolyn stared in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to her, not to Carolyn Vance from Tyler Corners whose major sins to date consisted of using her mother's credit card for gas and necking after the Saturday night movie. These things only happened to girls off the street, girls who were looking for trouble and were disappointed if they didn't find it. He couldn't really believe she would stay here and work for him, not after this!

"And if you are still thinking about going to the police, Carolyn," he spoke softly, "discounting the blackmail charges, do you think they would believe you?"

"Of course, they'd believe me," she answered incredulously. "No girl would do a terrible thing like that willingly. You forced me!"

"Did I?" The frozen smile took on a new malignancy. "There were no bonds holding you down, no one holding your legs apart for the dog. Do you really think any person seeing the joy on your pretty face would believe you weren't enjoying it? The way you reached up with your wet little pussy and screwed yourself higher onto his big cock, you think anybody's going to believe you didn't want to fuck that dog?"

"And afterwards, Carolyn, when you and the dog had both spent yourselves so disgustingly, when the swelling went down and he pulled it out and licked you clean… when you smiled and spread your legs and patted your hairy little cunt and tried to coax him back again… do you realty think anyone in their right mind would believe you were forced into it?"

Tears welled in her eyes and ran unchecked down her pale cheeks. He was right. She had seen the awful spectacle herself. No one would believe her, never in a thousand years.

"And the second reel of film, the one you didn't want to watch," Jason continued, "I'm sure it would convince the police of your unfortunate perversion if the other one didn't. You did some very, very naughty things to my poor Mario while he was tied up and unable to get away from you. Oh, he struggled and tried to turn his innocent body away, but you forced your unnatural appetites upon him. Your unrestrained molesting may have caused permanent psychological damage to the lad! It was shocking, shocking!"

Carolyn's face was streaked with tears and she slowly moved her head from side to side. She couldn't have, she couldn't have done anything like that.

"I can see that you don't believe me. Perhaps we should run the film after all. Mario?" Jason taunted.

"No… no, please!"

"Never mind, Mario," Jason purred reassuringly across the table, "Don't cry, my dear. If you stay and work for me as we agreed, no one need ever know about the films. No one at all."

Carolyn hung her head and stared into her tear-dampened lap. This awful man, this canine Jekyll and Hyde had forced her into a corner from which there was no escape. How could she stay here in this house of depravity and work for a man whose mind crawled with evil? How was she to know that he wouldn't try to put her through another night like that? Or worse? Perhaps he would force his own attentions on her. Perhaps Mario would get to thinking about the things she was forced to do to him and his unstable mind might snap. She would be in constant danger here… but the alternative was prison for blackmail. She didn't have a choice.

"What… what do you expect me to do?" she asked with a silent sob in her throat.

"Why, just exactly what we discussed when you accepted the position. I merely want you to help me train these fine young animals. That's all, my dear, just train the dogs."

"Train them? To do what, Mr. Benson? You never did say. Exactly what kind of training do the dogs require?" Her voice was haughty, cutting.

Jason lifted the heavy glass decanter from the center of the table and poured a generous amount in his glass. He lifted the bottle in her direction. Carolyn shook her head. He replaced the stopper in the container, leaned back in the big wooden chair and sipped at the brandy glass cupped in his lean tan hands. He looked at Carolyn from beneath the gently arched brows, half amused, half tolerant.

"I thought you would surely have figured that out by now, Carolyn…"

It was inevitable, Carolyn thought, as she followed Jason Benson through the endless passages of the big house. She knew the time would come when she would be forced to take part in the monstrous perversion but it had seemed so… so unbelievable that her mind had not really accepted the situation in which she found herself. Not until now! As they walked down the long hall toward the kennels and the "indoctrination tour" as Jason put it, Carolyn's mind finally had to face facts.

The door which opened off the Royal Benson Kennel's office was locked. Jason pressed a button beneath the counter top and the door slid open with a soft whir. He gestured for Carolyn to enter, followed her through and pressed another button. The door whirred shut with smooth efficiency.

Before them lay a wide carpeted aisleway flanked on both sides by identical cages of chain link wire, joined one to the other like the row upon row of exclusive center city apartments which thrived in downtown New York City. Each cage was exactly like the next, a large chrome feeding dish, an automatic fresh water bowl and a rectangular mattress pad covered in royal blue canvas. Each cage was occupied.