Familiar in a Dream

Vanessa, you were falling asleep again. You had been dozing off over that book I let you borrow when that hard knocking at the door jolted you right out of your chair. You rubbed your eyes because it was so early, too early, for visitors. The clock said... well, you couldn't make it out but the sun was not long from rising.

You stumbled over to the door, putting in a valiant attempt to clear your eyes. You weren't going to be able to locate the doorknob otherwise. Whoever was on the other side of the door wasn't going to knock again. Trying to see who it was through the peephole was pointless. It was patience, on the visitor's part, not your tremendous effort to open the door that brought you face to face with a blurry someone on your porch.

Even though you could barely see him, you knew him. Looking at him was the same as looking at yourself in the fogged up mirror after a shower. His body was so different from yours, but you knew it just as well. His presence took up the porch and was he broad. He could reach up and touch the roof without straightening his elbow, too. His feet stayed perfectly shoulder width under him. You didn't wear shoes but you liked the discipline of his boots, the laces you could not see the tips of but were so inextricably taut.

His eyes cleared yours with the intensity of his stare. You didn't know if he felt that same sense of silhouette between you, or if he just took it for granted. Expected it of you. That's how he looked at you, so early in the morning. He was the most powerful thing on the earth for that brief length of time until the sun rose to challenge him.

"Morning," he said. He didn't say it was good, or apologize for waking you. "What's your name?"

"Vanessa," you get out. It's the only thing you were capable of saying, other than, "What's in your hands?"

"What, this?" he said, opening his fist. A dog's leash and collar sat in his hand.

The next you saw, you were sitting on the floor, looking up at him. He seemed to stretch on forever. You were linked by a shining silver chain. His face bore down on you with expectation and moderated satisfaction. You realized you were totally naked.

"What?" you said. You tried to cover yourself and found your hands were bound.

He was no longer pleased. "Dogs don't speak," he said, as if he is reminding you. He obviously doesn't like to repeat himself.

"Dogs? What are-" He slaps your mouth. It hurts. It hurts good.

"You need more training." He tugs on the chain and you discover it's attached to a collar around your neck. You follow after him as best you can on your knees. Your collar and chain sound no different than any other dog's. "Sit, here," he commanded you at the foot of your bed.

You obeyed and sat with your legs under you. You bowed your head, and examined the spiked cuffs that linked your wrists together. You also saw your nipples, sharp and disloyal. They betrayed the shred of dignity you put your everything into kneeling before this man. Fingers under your chin return your focus to him. Those eyes don't blink when the lips tell you to open your mouth. You hesitated, and it only took a flinch of the wrist for you to open. You wanted to look away, to retreat back to that driftwood of control deep in your mind. That was not permitted. You already knew if you took your eyes off his he would punish you. You let him slip a finger into your mouth.

It pressed on your tongue and then took its time sliding over your teeth. They probed under both your lips and rubbed along the insides of your cheeks. He made a satisfied sound. The finger left, and he unzipped his pants. "A good dog can speak around a cock in her mouth." You didn't know what this meant but there was his cock at your lips. The head was a lick away, but he gave you no command. He let it throb in the air, dripping precum onto you while you struggled between anticipation and dread. He pat your head, when enough time passed. "Wider," he ordered, and pushed. You obeyed and still felt the edge of his head graze your lips. He didn't stop. He kept going, and you did all you could not to gag. When you did, and your body tried to push him away, he grabbed your chin with one big hand and held you there, spasming with his whole cock down your throat. "Now speak."

You attempted to bark, but couldn't get any intelligible sound out around that cock. He let you have air, if only to admonish you, and pushed himself back inside you. Your tongue was pinned to the bottom of your mouth but you could still wiggle it, so you did. He seemed to lose his footing a moment, and then again commanded you to "Speak."

"Woof!" you got out, more or less. It was only adequate to him, because he just thrust himself down your throat again and again and again. "Bark! Woof! Woof woof woof woof! Aroo!" He finally withdrew himself from you fully and stepped away. You gasped in precious air, but you caught a glimpse of his wide eyes before you fell into yourself. You both just breathed for a time. It wasn't clear who needed it more. His cock was slobbery and drool and fluid alike dripped from his tip onto the floor. You stared at it from your resting position on the floor until he caught you.

He separated your cuffs and sat down. He looked at you and then his boots. Unbidden, you crawled to his feet and took them off. His socks too, when he did nothing else. He pulled down his own pants, though and even pushed you away with a foot when you moved to serve him. "A good dog knows how to honor her master," he says.

You didn't know what to do. You matched his eyes, then averted them and then bowed down before him. That got him to set his feet on your head, but he only enjoyed that for a few minutes. They returned to their place before you and you looked up, confused. You saw his feet for the first time, really. They were highly maintained, that was clear. And then you knew what to do.

You remained bowing, and placed a kiss on the top of his foot. Your intuition told you your hands were unfit to touch his feet. You kissed the tops of both of his feet before you started on his toes. You kissed these too and let your tongue run over the nails. He made a sound above you, and the muscles in his feet shifted, but you continued on. You licked down between every toe, bathing every millimeter of flesh the homage due from his dog. First it was the little toe that you took into your mouth, You sucked on it and swirled your tongue over it like it was a little cock. From the master's reaction above, it may as well have been. You took the big toe of the other foot into your mouth next. It was so thick, so solid. The little hairs on the knuckle excited you. You sucked on them and felt the rest of his toes dig into the carpet. You paid the rest of his toes the same treatment.

And then, he stood up, and shot his load all over your face, his feet, and your bowing hands. You licked it up. Every drop. Like a good dog. You left his toes cleaner than you found them, and your master higher than he'd ever been.

++++++++

You were laying on your stomach on the bed. He had lashed your cuffs to the bed posts and left you there. You felt how wet you had gotten. It was soaking into the bed, warming your thighs. It excited you enough to make you consider grinding yourself into the mattress. It was good you didn't. The master had returned. You felt his presence before you felt the bed sag under his weight. He didn't say anything. You only heard rustling, clothes and knees over sheets. Then you felt something kissing your sex.

You held your breath, but nothing happened. You wanted so desperately to look over your shoulder, see what was holding him, beg him to help you. You knew he wouldn't like that. It was all about giving him what he wanted, and receiving what you deserved. He slipped into you. It was just the head but it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. He was so hard, so stiff. He didn't throb anymore. Your soaking depths took him without complaint but it felt nothing like how you expected. You realized that you weren't giving him any reaction, not honoring him. You turned back and found him pleased behind you. His hand wielded the dildo that occupied your pussy.

"A good dog knows her master better than she knows herself."

He was more than ready to reward you. He emptied you and lined himself up with your wetness. He took up the chain and pulled your head up taut. The tip parted your lips and the collar around your throat started to choke you. This truly was like nothing else you had experienced before. He was so big. You were never so full. It kept going, filling you until there was nothing else to fill. You were seeing stars and feeling colors. He gave the leash a little slack and some of that went away. He was the master for a reason; he knew when you were about to faint even bottomed out in one of his slaves. That was the last of his control. He pulled back and then threw himself back into you. You were more than wet enough to take it comfortably. He didn't have that in mind. He only did what he wanted with you. He wanted to fuck you like the animal you were, the thing that belonged to him, and that was all. He fucked you down into the mattress and kept going. You felt his balls slap into your ass as hard as he hit you earlier. You didn't hear it, or him, or anything else. The blood was pounding in your ears and you felt like you were cumming through an orgasm that would never end. He pushed your head into the bed, making you bite the sheets.

His lips assaulted your ears. "Take it, you fucking dog. Take what your owner gives you. Whine for me, slave. Whine." You give your best impression of a dog's pitiful whine. It's not too far off from the noise you were already making at the end of that dick. He praises you. He fucks you. His hand digs under you to grasp your throat. "You've been a good fucking pet. You ready for my cum, little dog? A little treat for being a good slut?" You nod your head vigorously and make more whining noises, begging for his cum. He thrusts your head into the bed and grips your hips roughly. He is only after his own orgasm, stabbing deep into you faster than you can even fucking think. He's roaring, he's hitting your ass so fucking hard. You feel your thighs spasm and your vision goes blank. Your eyelashes are all you can see in the last moments of consciousness. He praises you. He slaps your ass. He's gone.

++++++++

Your eyes have only just shut when you heard the knock at the door. It's persistent, supplicant. It's me, here to pick you up for breakfast. You glided from the bed like a puppet on strings. You didn't even notice that you weren't chained to the bed any more. You can see just fine, too. You're warm, wearing clothes. You opened the door and smiled at me.

"Morning, Vanessa. Are you ready?"

"Oh, yeah, just let me get my jacket."

You shut the door and went back to your room. You pulled on your new white fluffy jacket and headed back to me. After you locked the door you stuffed your hands into the pockets of the jacket. It was brand new, but there was something in one of them. It's hard, and... sharp. You jostle it out of the pocket and stare at it.

"Huh, a dog collar," I said, "I didn't know you had a dog, Vanessa."