The doctor left at four, but the clinic did not officially close until five. Becca was instructed to lock up at that time, but leave the lights on and answer the phones until 6 p.m. The woman knew, even though she turned the latch on the front door that it would be hours yet before it would be safe. Even at that, there were names on the emergency number list that could call at any time and mess things up. That did not happen often enough to keep the veterinary assistant from changing her plans.
There wasn't much in this universe that could do that. Just being alone in the building, knowing what awaited, enforced such power over her she could barely stand unaided. Her heart pounded heavily under her breast. Her head seemed to fill with numbing helium, threatening to float from her body if her neck did not hold it firmly attached. Taking several deep breaths, Becca wondered how she would survive until eight o'clock when the neighborhood quieted to a point when sounds of intrusion could be deciphered over the hubbub of traffic and kids playing outside. By then the phones would have quieted as well. Then Nurse Becca could make her final rounds.
That is what Doctor Barretti liked to call her when patients were around. It was part of his "bedside manner" she guessed. Just as he considered the human owners as much patients as their pets, often more so. She was no nurse, although she did have a degree in animal husbandry. It didn't help much under Barretti, who used an entirely different vocabulary than the university, but it did land her the job as his assistant. Physician's assistant may have been a more accurate term, but for now she was Nurse Becca. And as such the young woman did have enough work to keep her busy for the next few hours.
Especially if she were to get all her chores finished up before eight. Once she pushed herself away from the filing cabinet she had been leaning on for support, and forced her body to go through the physical motions required, the time went quickly. The work was routine and not terribly difficult. Becca had performed the tasks so often in the past six months that she scarcely had to think about it. Instead she went over the plans again. Not because she was unsure of them. In the last few weeks she had nearly perfected her approach.
Each dog was different, each reacted to different stimuli. Becca learned early on to work with one animal at a time, discovering what voice worked best, what smells most interested him. She developed a special bond with him over a week or two so as to make the big night as successful as possible. It was a lesson she learned the hard way.
In the beginning she wasn't always successful.
Becca's first choice had, without question, been the huge, vicious shepherd kept in one of the larger pens. He, as were many of the residents, healthy animals cooling their paws while their owners went off on vacations. He was hands down the handsomest canine that she had ever seen at the clinic. All efforts to be friendly with him netted barred teeth and mean snarls. Becca finally tried her last resort as a novice. She did not bathe for a week, masturbating daily to give her body as sexually musky an odor as possible. Even Dr. Barretti commented.
She gave him the excuse that she was without water until the landlord fixed the plumbing, but decided that that had to be the night she offered herself to the German shepherd. Long after dark she went to the back corridor where the larger dogs were caged, and nervously removed her uniform. The shepherd could sense her fear, a deep growl rising from deep within him. Becca cautiously moved to the door of his pen, her own body odor filling her nostrils. She hoped the dog would like it, and become aroused by it.
He did stop growling, testing the air for the source of the unfamiliar smell. Taking this for encouragement Becca stepped forward and, legs open, pressed herself against the door's iron screening. The dog attacked immediately, only the seemingly fragile cage keeping him from the human intruder. Becca did not flinch. An instinct learned early in an animal handler's career is to fight the urge to flee. The woman was successful in that, but she wet herself on the spot.
In terror and shame she backed slowly off and moved to the pen of a cocker she knew to be friendly. The little dog seemed genuinely interested in the woman's wet panties, and even licked her privates when Becca peeled the sodden garment off. She did manage to jack the cocker off that night, but Becca realized she had a lot more to learn about canine intercourse.
Not all the smaller dogs were easy to mate. She had been bitten more than once and clawed many times. Each time she mastered new techniques and tried new strategies. Successes now numbered higher than the failures. Tonight she was confident she would find satisfying success with the Chocolate Lab.
As Nurse Becca she knew his name, of course. As Nurse Becca she kept him groomed, especially clipping his nails and washing him. She walked him around the back yard rather than simply leaving him in a run. She spoke to him often in her level, soothing voice. After hours, however, was a different story. After all the chores were done she ceased to be Nurse Becca, and became submissive slut Becca. This woman did not use given names, for fear of lasting affections. She did not want to become mate to one animal, but was willing to be their bitch for a day, or week. As dog-slut Becca she would climb into her prospective lover's cage, fondle him, let him smell her, kiss her: perhaps even jack him off if it were a quickly developing relationship.
Becca had done all this with the Chocolate Lab. She knew he was ready for her, and she for him. Tonight would be the night. She could almost feel his erect cock slipping between her lips. It made her knees weak, and she had to sit down. Shaking her head clear, the young woman realized the work was nearly done. The clock on the examination room wall showed it to be 7:30. Clean the sinks and counter tops in the washroom, shut down the furnace and check the doors and lights were all she needed to do before her nightly rounds. Butterflies careened in her stomach as she stood and began to finish up.
The sense of helplessness had been growing stronger ever since she had first locked the doors. It was very intense now, as if a phantom being were penetrating her through some form of osmosis and taking control of her mind and body. She went about the last of her work automatically, like a robot of flesh and blood controlled by a computer chip planted somewhere deep in the back of her head. She could almost feel it. As she made her way closer to the lodging ward Becca felt her body fill up with the sensation of being manipulated; the phantom gaining total control. The hall seemed viewed from within a fishbowl, blurred and distorted. Her body stopped at the leash rack, a wall mounted board of nails from which various kinds of restraints hung. There were empty nails too. The night nurse stared at them as her hand rose to her throat.
Her fingers worked the buttons of her uniform slowly. There was no hurry now. The dress opened completely down the front, and as Becca let it fall from her shoulders the fragrance of her sex rose to fill the short hallway She hung the white uniform, then her bra. She wore no panties so the juices of her arousal were free to leak down her thighs. One-by-one the animal handler lifted a foot, untied the laces of the white, soft-soled shoes and pulled them off. Then the socks. Now that she was naked there was nothing left to do but step to the brown dog's cage.
.... There is more of this story ...