tagRomanceAnimal Behavior

Animal Behavior


This story is about a love affair between a guy who identifies strongly as a dog, and a woman who is, in the D/s sense, his Mistress.

This is in no way a BDSM story; it's actually a pretty soppy love story: Things start out great, then threaten to go sour, but finally we end with wedding bells.

When I read some stories here with the "man gets treated like dog" theme, I was disappointed at how often the "dog" gets ill-treated (or wants to be ill-treated). As a dog-lover, I have to say: I wouldn't treat a dog that way. So, in this story there's no cruelty or abuse -- to me, abusing a dog is almost as abhorrent as abusing a child.

The sex here is (by Literotica standards), occasional, and more realistic than erotic; there's some anal action. There's also adultery, intended to be not so much titillating so much as part of the story, which is about what it means to be faithful in a D/s relationship.

And no animals were harmed in the making of this story.


Part 1: Walkies

I have all the canine qualities, good and bad. I suppose if had to be specific as to breeds, I'd be a German Shepherd or a Border Collie, but that may be flattering myself; they're probably smarter than I am. But without training, they can be a bit snappy and unruly. And left to their own instincts, they'd spend their lives chasing sheep and bitches. And above all what they need most is a good owner who knows how to handle them.

Now, I guess the above paragraph could describe a lot of guys, but I never really realised just accurately it sums me up, until I met my owner, Ulla.

Telling this story now, it seems even more crazy and stupid than it felt when it was happening: I'm on vacation in Spain and I meet a woman in a café who treats me like a dog and before I know what's happening, I'm hiking sixty miles with nothing but a pair of jeans and a passport with me, uprooting my life to go and live in a kennel in her back yard.

I was down there in Andalucía, on a hiking holiday with a pal of mine, Jack. He started getting on my nerves even before we got on the plane out there, spending all his time checking Facebook and watching YouTube on his iPad. I wanted to get back to nature, shit in the woods, all that caveman stuff. It turned out he mainly wanted to smoke Moroccan hash, drink cheap beer in bars and meet women. I was okay with that, for some of the time, but he and I didn't make a good double-act when it came to women: I was thirty-five, and he was just twenty-nine. He would end up chatting up eighteen-year old girls; that was way too young for me.

And besides that, he left all the planning out of our walking trips to me, like it had been my idea alone to do that side of it, rather than a team effort.

So, I'd already decided to dump him at the first opportunity, for the rest of our vacation, even before Ulla turned up.

Jack and I were staying in Benaocaz, a tiny "Pueblo Blanco" -- a pretty little hamlet of white houses built into the craggy cliffs of the Sierra de Grazalema. This area is a hiker's paradise in late Spring, a lush national park, with icy mountain streams and pine forests, beautiful open prairies and the odd steep cliff-face climb.

We were at a little bar at nine-thirty in the morning, drinking our café con leche's, getting ready for a twenty-kilometre hike across the Sierra to another little town, El Bosque. I'd arranged a taxi to forward our luggage there, so we could travel with light daypacks.

Jack was hung over and being slow. I was itching to get going and felt irritated with him. I went outside to finish my coffee in the sunshine, and that's when I saw Ulla for the first time. She was sitting at a table enjoying the bright morning sun, her big backpack propped against the wall beside her. A couple of large dogs, a Lurcher and a Labrador, lay at her feet. They wore no collars or leads. She was wearing an olive-green tee shirt, khaki shorts and walking boots. I noticed her long, tanned, well-toned legs. She was very good-looking; her face was the sort people often describe as "handsome", meaning slightly masculine, I guess. She had high cheekbones and sky-blue eyes. Her blonde hair was tied in a no-nonsense pony tail under her hat. She looked Scandinavian.

She called over to me and asked me something in Spanish, which I couldn't quite understand. Then she repeated the question in English:

"Excuse me, can you tell me the name of this place?"

I told her. She shielded her eyes and looked at me.

"Sit! Come!" She patted a chair at her table. The way she said it made me laugh out loud, like she was talking to one of her dogs. I obeyed. I sat down next to her, expecting her to introduce herself. But she just sat there and looked at me, grinning happily, still shielding her merry eyes from the sun with her hand.

So I introduced myself, and struck up a conversation with her. She was Danish. It turned out she was walking pretty much the same route as I'd planned for me and Jack. She didn't know much about it. She didn't even have a map, which I thought was kind of cool. I invited her to join us if she wanted.

"Okay, we walk together." She stood up, ready to go. Her dogs stood too, wagging their tails and yawning in anticipation.

"Hang on... My friend, inside..." I got up too, and almost ran into the bar, feeling that she was the type who would just take off and go unless Jack and I hurried up.

When I got back inside Jack was seated at the bar, a beer in front of him. "Hey, Joe, I'm just getting some breakfast. This guy says he does the best ham and eggs anywhere for miles. Want me to get him to make you one too?"

That did it: I grabbed my daypack and ran out.

"Ok, let's go, my friend will meet us later."

"Good." Ulla hoisted her big backpack onto her shoulders. Its weight pulled her shoulders backwards and out, making her tits stand proud, and her nipples noticeable under her tee shirt. I averted my gaze when she noticed me staring at them. I pointed out the little dirt track that marked the start of the route I'd planned, and off we went. Or rather off she went, leaving me to catch up.

She was a fast walker, which I liked. Jack's natural pace was too slow for me. I wasn't used to walking behind anyone. The sky was dazzling blue and the air was still fresh at that time of morning -- by noon the sky would turn hazy and it would become really hot, too hot for this kind of pace.

I watched her ass while she strode ahead of me. She was wonderfully fit, in a really natural way, not from spending hours at the gym, but from spending days hiking.

I caught her up, with difficulty, and asked her what her plans were for her trip.

"I'm living here, in Spain. I rent a house near Algeciras, and I'm working for a Danish travel company there. That's where I'm going."

"On foot? To Algeciras? That's way down at the tip of Spain! What is that, about a hundred k?"

"Yes, I think."

"That's at least a five-day hike. Do you know the way?"

She laughed, and pointed ahead. "South!"

After an hour, I was feeling the pace in my calves. I wanted to stop and rest, but didn't want to say anything in case she thought me a sissy. Her dogs didn't seem tired: They plodded on ahead of both of us, sniffing trails. I asked her their names. The Lurcher was "Caspar", the Labrador she called "Jamie".

"Nice dogs. Did you get them here in Spain?"

"They just follow me."

"What do you mean, they're strays?"

"They were strays. Like you were a stray. But now you follow me too." Again, she laughed. I didn't know why, but when she said that, I got a pang in my balls. It felt sexy that she considered me like just another one of her dogs.

We walked on, climbing steadily towards a pass in the hills ahead. It started to get hot. I took a big swig from my water bottle.

"Don't drink so much. Later we'll need it more," she said, without slowing or looking back. That annoyed me a bit; I didn't need survival instructions from her. But then I realised that it was just ego on my part that made me annoyed, and that she probably knew better than me about it.

"Hey Ulla, I'm tired. Let's stop for a bit, what do you say?"


I'd never met such a bossy woman; she was like an army sergeant. I didn't mind it at all; she spoke to my inner dog, and my inner dog liked it.

After another half hour of uphill walking, just when I felt I really had to stop, the path led between thick, high gorse bushes.

"Ok, here is shade. We can rest here." She peeled off her backpack and sat in the shade, stretching out her long legs.

I opened up my water bottle and prepared to take a swig. She snatched it from me, saying "No more water for you. Only for me now, and for the dogs; you've had your ration."

"Give it back."

"Okay, I'll give it back, but don't drink." She handed me back the bottle, reluctantly.

"Thank you," I said sarcastically. "Fuck it, I'm going to drink it. It's my water anyway."

"If you drink, I'll go on by myself, and leave you behind."

Weak as that threat might sound, it worked: I put my water bottle down without drinking, even though I felt thirsty.

The reason I obeyed her was not because I thought she was right that I should ration my water better. No, it was something else: I couldn't abide the thought of her abandoning me.

Thinking about it with hindsight, I was already -- what? In love with her? Well, not quite; it was simply a natural dog/mistress relationship that we had, from the moment our eyes met.

It was like what happened to me when I was a kid, when my parents took me to get a dog from the dog's home: I chose one, picked it up and held it, and we bonded instantly; I took it home and kept it. Only with Ulla I was the dog, of course.

She drank from her own bottle. I watched her long neck arch as she gulped down water. Then she let the dogs suckle at the bottle too. She looked at me and laughed: "Oh, Joey. Such a sad, thirsty face. Don't worry. There's a stream over there, on the other side of these hills."

"How do you know, you've never been here!"

"I don't know for sure, but I know how the land and the plants are here. Now, rub my shoulders please." She rose and beckoned me up. Her tee shirt was drenched with sweat where it had been covered with her backpack.

I massaged her slowly, pressing my thumbs deep into her muscles. They were wiry and firm; her skin was shiny and slippery with the natural oil from her sweat. I caught the acrid scent from her armpits, and it instantly got me hard as a rock. I slowed my hands, which began to travel down the outside of her arms, then around in front of her; my fingers stroked her ribcage. She didn't resist. "Joey. Mmm. Later." I pressed myself against her, so that she could feel my hard-on between her butt-cheeks. She turned around.

"Later, Joey. My Joey."

"Okay, Ulla. Hey, let me carry your backpack. We can swap. If you want."

"No, it's light." She picked up my daypack off the ground by the strap and laughed. "Yours is heavier. What do you have there? Let me see."

She pulled items one by one from my backpack, like a magician.

"Phone. You don't need this." She looked at the screen of my phone. "You have four missed calls. From 'Jack'. I guess that's your friend who you left for me."

"Hat." She plonked it on my head to see if it suited me. "Ugly, but it's useful."

"Water. Flashlight. The moon is bright at night right now, you don't need it."

Once she'd emptied the bag, she said, "You have nothing for night time, except a flashlight which you don't need; no blanket, nothing."

"That's why it's called a daypack."

"But you may need to stay somewhere overnight. I'll pack your bag next time."

"Next time? There'll be a next time?"

"Yes, I think you should follow me now, to my place. You'd like to?"

I thought about it. Yes, my flight back to the U.K. was not for another week, and I could get back to Seville airport from Algeciras quite easily. Which would leave plenty of time to accompany her for the long hike down.

"Yes. Thank you. I'd love to."

She rummaged in the side pocket of her backpack and handed me a few dried figs. They were delicious.

"From a tree. All over here there's great fruit and vegetables, you can survive if you must."

"I prefer venison stew and grilled pork."

She laughed. "Me too. But it's not free. Anyway, we'll stop one day and have a big Andalusian meal, with red wine."

We looked at each other. It was nice to see in her eyes the same attraction that I felt towards her.

"You're like a female Bear Grylls."

She hadn't heard of him.

"Oh, he's this guy on TV who survives out in the wild, cooking iguanas and drinking his piss. Have you ever had to do that, Ulla?"

"Iguanas, no. But once I was lost with my boyfriend with no water and we did drink my boyfriend's pee."

"Fuck. Urgh. No. Fucking. Way would I do that, I'd rather die of thirst."

"Well, do as I tell you with your water, or you might need to. Maybe the stream will be dry."

I lay down on my back, cradling my head in my hands, and closed my eyes and listened to the bees and crickets. I felt light-headed. "Ok, Ulla, you're the boss."

"Yes. Stay. I'm going to explore for a minute."


She was longer than a minute; I was nearly dozing when she returned.

"Look," she said. "I found water." She was holding a water bottle. My water bottle. It was full. But it looked suspiciously discoloured.

"Ok, very funny. You peed in my water. Fucking hell, Ulla, I really needed that."

"Well, now there's enough, you can drink. It won't kill you. Look, I'll show you." She took a swig. "Now you. Drink." She handed me the bottle.

I squeezed up my face and took a sip. To my surprise it tasted okay; a little sweet, like very diluted orange squash. I gulped down half a litre, and my light-headedness left me.

She applauded. "Good Joey. My pee tastes nice?"

I handed her the half-empty bottle. "Yep. Tastes like Sugar Puffs."

We shouldered our bags and resumed walking.

"Hey, I'm not going to die after that, am I?"

"We'll both die together; I drank too."

Not only did I not die, but I felt noticeably fitter than when we'd started out. I now had no problem keeping up with Ulla, although if anything, we had sped up since we started walking. The dogs too still showed no sign of fatigue. We were now high up on more or less level ground in a shady forest of pine trees. We heard running water; she'd been right, there was water here.

"And to think I just drank piss." I glared at her.

"Oh, Joey, it was medicine for you. And also, it means you belong to me now. Now I'm in your blood."

"Ok. When can I be in yours?" I looked at her to see if she got my meaning. She did.

"After we wash."

We stripped naked and splashed in the cold, fresh water. Seeing her naked body at last was a thrill; she reminded me of a leopard, the way she moved. My own body, which was in pretty good shape, seemed almost flabby compared with hers.

She unzipped and spread her sleeping bag open and beckoned me over.

"Now come inside your Ulla." At these words, my cock quickly stiffened and I bounded over, my dick flapping against my abdomen.

She bent on all fours. She wanted to do it doggy-style. Of course, what else?

I knelt behind her, and she guided my boner into her warm pussy. She arched and straightened her back swiftly, thrusting her ass against me. I rammed deep inside her in time with her motion, grabbing her hips firmly with my fingers. She started crying out, in rhythm, louder and louder with each thrust; she was climaxing after only a few seconds! This got me so excited that I reached orgasm pretty much at the same time as she did; I came, shouting out involuntarily, "Oh shit!"

I pulled out; shiny gobs of semen slithered down my still half-erect cock and dripped to the ground from my balls.

"Stay. On your knees." She stood up and pressed my head onto her belly.

"Down, Joey. Lick." I went down on all fours. She grabbed my wet hair and pushed my head backwards, craning my neck. She pressed her pussy hard onto my face. I licked her dripping wet clit; it tasted of my cum. Then I pushed my tongue deep. She convulsed; from deep inside her, she spurt out a mixture of our juices into my mouth. I swallowed gratefully.

She stroked my hair. "You have nice thick hair, Joey. Lick, lick. That's good, lick, lick, lick. Keep licking." My tongue flicked and played with her full, swollen pussy lips, my nose pressed against her wiry flaxen pubes. I gazed up into her eyes, as she watched me.

I licked and licked and licked. My neck started to cramp; but I didn't want to stop; I wanted to stay like this for ever. Her eyes closed as she climaxed again, but she still didn't let me stop; on the contrary, she forced my head even harder against her, and kept on sighing "lick, lick, lick", almost to herself now. Eventually after she had reached her third orgasm, she'd had enough. She gently pushed my head down between her legs; she pressed her palms onto my back and jumped over me like a backwards game of leapfrog, and lay down beside me on the crumpled sleeping bag. I lay next to her, and watched her chest move as she breathed. Her pink nipples were erect from the cold water and the sex. I leaned over and kissed them, counting one; two. I lay on my back beside her, watching the sunlight through the treetops. I could smell her sexy smell each time I breathed in; her sticky juice was on my face, but I didn't want to wipe it off; I wanted her sexy smell to linger on me.

"Good, Joey?"


"Okay. Let's go. Do you have anything you need in El Bosque? What do you have in your luggage there? More useless stuff?"

"My passport, clothes, my laptop..."

"Ok, we'll get your passport. Come!"

"Ok, boss."

We arrived in El Bosque at seven in the evening. We entered the cheap hostel Jack and I had booked for the night. The concierge there had a message from him for me: Jack had gone to Seville, and would see me at the airport. I could tell just from that message that Jack was pissed off with me, but I didn't care.

Ulla left the dogs outside, and accompanied me to my room, where they'd put my luggage; it was just one small suitcase. Ulla made me sit on the bed while she emptied it like she had done with my daypack. She set aside one pair of jeans, and my passport. The rest of the stuff, she told me, I didn't need.

I protested: "My underpants, my socks, for Christ's sake?"

"You're wearing a pair already, you can wash them."

"My laptop? I need it for work."

"You'll find work in Algeciras. I can find work for you."

When she said that, I realised, for the first time, that when she had said I should come with her to her home, she meant come with her to live! There was no way I could do that; I was in the middle of buying a new apartment in London, and my friends and family all lived there. Suddenly I got a reality check; Ulla was not just eccentric, she was off the scale, even by my freewheeling standards. Her spell on me suddenly broke, and I realised that I hardly knew anything about her: Her taste in music, her politics, nothing. And now this nut was expecting me to uproot my entire life and come and live with her. Hell, anyway, all this "back to nature" thing was just a vacation for me; for her it seemed to be a way of life.

I didn't know how to phrase all of this in a way that would let her down gently.

"Ulla. Stop, for a minute."

She paused her rummaging through my bag and looked at me. Her expression changed from puzzled, to comprehension.

"Ah. Joey. You're scared now."

"Well, yeah..."

"What scares you? Maybe because now we're not in the mountains anymore, you remember your cage again in London. You have a girlfriend there?"

"No. No, but look: That's the point! We don't even know each other. And you want me to come and live with you! It's crazy!"

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