Nicole Duval - The breeders

He laid the whip down on the counter and pressed her back up against the wall. One hand squeezed a breast hard, too hard, while the other snaked across the pale ivory skin of her flat stomach and buried itself in the brown curls between her legs. His face was a scarce inch from hers, his mouth hovering over her full lips like a vulture descending on a dying animal. He could feel the dampness of the fur-covered lips below, warm and wet about his other finger, as the tight-clamped little slit pressed back against the wall trying to escape the probing hand, holding itself shut to exclude the unwelcome invader. His lips came closer and brushed lightly across hers, his tongue wetting her fear-dried flesh, softening them in case she willingly decided to…

It was a temptation… but the thought of this haughty woman cringing beneath his dogs as she watched their dripping jowls and their eager organs jutting out… no he would wait to taste her sweetness after the dogs had humbled her, after the dogs had humped her pride into the ground and she had begged him for relief. Wasn't this, after all, the best way to handle women? Make them beg, make them know they were less than the animals which used them? Let the dogs know their pleasures, let the dogs wet the bitch's trough. When she had known the depths to which she could be forced, when she could sink no lower in her own mind, then he would allow her the privilege of redeeming herself upon his body. Then… and only then.

He pulled his finger from the damp well of her body, took his tongue from her tight lips and stood back. There was disgust in his eyes. She was only another woman. Why should he give her the pleasure of his attentions? No woman ever cared for him!

Jason taunted himself often with the fantasies of his tormented mind. Until he had found 'the dogs' and made them great, no one had known of him! He had been a lonely and much maligned gigolo, the handsome imported husband of a fat, rich and very ugly widow. She had been but the last of many such women who paid for his attention with the insurance premiums of hard-working husbands. Paid-for passion, that's what he offered. The envied escort, a charming companion, a sympathetic ear in the night… the night, the dreaded darkness when he paid for the daylight luxuries with whispered lies, reluctant hands upon dissipated bodies, and the drugs which whipped his rebellious penis into shape for the plunge into the soft soggy depths of their ancient stinking cunts! He had been made to feel like dirt, but that was over. Now he was the master, and the master he would remain!

He picked up the whip from the counter and began the endless slap-slapping against his leg. Jason Benson scarcely felt the light blows, yet it was whipping his mind into a frenzy. He knew what was happening to him. He wanted it to happen. He needed to be lashed into excitement… for the years, the long tedious years of servitude to lonely old women had taken its toll. He craved the cry of a woman punished. He needed complete degradation of a woman, absolute domination over her before his lethargic penis would react and feel life. He looked at the bit of white cloth on the floor at his feet, the bra which kept those beautiful breasts from his sight and he smiled his cold hating smile.

Carolyn shuddered inwardly at the sight of his icy smile. Jason sensed her discomfort and wallowed in it. Perhaps he could turn the knife in her guts.

"It has always been my theory," he began in the clinical tone which severed his mind from his acts of debauchery, "that the human mind is highly inconsistent in its relationships with animals."

He backed Carolyn into the corner again with slow deliberate steps and once more stood spread-legged blocking the only way to freedom. She knew there would be no freedom for her, ever again. Even if she were to escape from this mad house she could never wash away the terrible memory of what she had done… or what she would yet be forced to do. She stood naked before this man and his whip, staring at the floor, expressionless, trembling with tension, numb with fear.

"Man subdued the boar to savor its flesh," Jason continued, stimulated by her submission, intent upon her demise. "He tamed the wild horse for transportation, made him docile and rode him for pleasure. For centuries we've taken sustenance from the cow and the goat. Every school child knows the pleasure of a pet. Don't you see, he has used animals for centuries, used them in every way except the one function which is most vital!"

Carolyn didn't see. She stood bare and bewildered before his tirade, her head down, appearing hardly more than a domesticated beast of the field herself.

"Man is so damnably inconsistent! He's so caught up in his own web of golden rules that he cannot see the pleasures for all the puny penalties that warp his existence! Medical science has proven beyond doubt that the end-all motivation of mankind is sex. Sex!"

"Hey, you're playing my song," came the flip reply from the open doorway. Mario leaned against the sill, arms folded across his chest and let his dark eyes roam Carolyn's naked body. "Sex is my favorite meal."

Carolyn didn't have to look up to know his lustful eyes were devouring her body. The red flush of embarrassment tinted her pale flesh.

"Now, don't you go blushing for me, baby," Mario teased, "There ain't nuthin' I like more than a pretty girl, specially when they're bare ass naked and full of all that motivation jazz the boss man was talking about."

Jason looked reprovingly at his young assistant. That was the trouble with youth, he though they hadn't the experience nor the patience to fully enjoy the sophistications of true eroticism. Hard cocks and soft brains, what a wasteful combination, he thought.

"I was trying to explain to Carolyn about the psychological aspects of using animals for sexual pleasure," Jason began, disgust edging his voice.

"Psych, smych!" Mario grinned, "Let's get down to the fuckin'!"

"Your intelligence is only exceeded by your tact, Mario," Jason said insultingly. Some day he would lose all patience and use the dog whip on that stupid boy. If he didn't need him, he could think of a lot of clever innovations for Mario, but unfortunately he did need him. "I was about to show Carolyn the advantages of bottle feeding our dogs, and…"

"… and you wanted me to demonstrate on, right?"

"That's right," Jason agreed coldly. "It's time Carolyn learned to understand… and appreciate… what we do here in the lab."

"Oh, she's gonna appreciate it," Mario chuckled and walked over to stand within easy reach of the girl. He made a great show of unzipping his pants fly and fumbling around in the tight pants before hauling out his long limp penis. He grinned at the girl and wiggled it at her. "Aren't ya, baby doll? That hot little puss of yours really appreciates it. You Goddam near drowned me with appreciation before ya got the fuzzy thing fucked off!"

Mario grinned as he saw the girl flush even darker at his words. Maybe he wasn't so suave as the famous Jason Benson, he thought, but the girls liked his youthful good looks and got hotter'n pistols when he talked plain sex at 'em and hung his dong out to dry before their startled eyes. He skinned it back and began the slow systematic massage which coaxed the long organ to life. Up and down, up and down.

"S'better than having a cocksuckin' girlfriend, or in your case," he nodded to Carolyn, "a breast fed boyfriend, cause there's eight or ten pups to a litter and they all gotta be fed! Good thing I got a long cock or it'd be a nubbin by now."

Carolyn's eyes widened as she looked at him. He surely couldn't mean what he was insinuating. He was just trying to upset her. It was childish, like a little boy putting worms down your back… childish, like a young man flaunting his stiff penis before you. She watched him playing with it. He would shape his hand around the pole, slide it out to the end and back, skinning the head clean, then he would take his thumb and rub back and forth across the coronal ridge. Carolyn could see the pink beast moving in his hand like a thing alive. It seemed alive. Each careful stroke increased its growth with frightening regularity. She could see a small drop of fluid ooze from its fat head and drop to the floor.