Dog Who Owned Me
by Rachael Ross
My life changed on a Friday, just after I'd turned eighteen and recently moved into a new life. That's how I liked to think of it. After leaving the modest village where I'd grown up, I'd moved to the modest town where I'd be attending community college. I wanted to be a graphic artist or something, I wasn't really sure, but I liked art and I was kind of good at it anyway. So those were the kind of classes I took while I worked part-time at Sears, dressing mannequins and putting up decorations and displays, stuff like that.
It wasn't a bad job, even if it only paid for my rent and just enough food to keep me from starving. My parents sent me a little every month and I'd be okay, except I was lonely. I mean, it was a new town and I didn't really know anyone except my landlady. She was an older woman, divorced, and renting out the small apartment above her garage. It wasn't much, but I could afford it and the hard part had been convincing her to let me have the place.
"You're not a hussy, are you?" she'd asked me, and I'd blinked and reddened and wondered how anyone could be that rude.
"N-No ma'am," I stammered. "I'm, uh ... I've never ... I don't..."
"Hmph," she snorted, looking me up and down.
I found myself wishing I'd worn something other than my ragged cut-offs and the little pink t-shirt that showed off my belly button. This had been during the summer though, the dog days of August, and just standing in the shade of her front porch had been hot enough to make me sweat. I sure wasn't going to walk around town dressed in my Sunday best and it wasn't my fault that I'd grown up to be more than a little attractive to most folks. My landlady, the Widow Perkins, was the sort of old woman who found that suspicious, like beautiful was just trouble waiting to happen.
"I'm a virgin," I'd confessed later that long afternoon, blushing all the more because a thing like that wasn't anyone's business but my own. "I don't even have a boyfriend anymore."
"What happened to him?" the Widow asked, peering down her nose with cold, grey eyes like I might have buried him in my backyard.
"He joined the army," I answered, quite truthfully. "They closed the mill and there aren't a lot of jobs back home, so..."
"You look like a hussy to me," she declared. "I'm not surprised the boy run off."
"I'm sorry, Ma'am." I looked down and frowned at my rather large, firm breasts and kicked myself mentally for not wearing a bra at least. "I guess I'll be going and, um ... Thank you for the lemonade and everything."
"Hold on now, Missy..." The old women had changed her mind, perhaps realizing that I really wasn't any sort of hussy at all, but only a girl fresh out of high school looking for a chance.
"Thank you so much." I smiled and signed the simple rental agreement half an hour later, giving Mrs. Perkins very nearly all the cash I'd brought with me. I wouldn't be moving in yet, I'd go back home and get my things first, but I was moving for sure and I felt pretty nervous and somewhat relieved.
"I'll be keeping an eye on you," she warned me. "And you'd best keep an eye on some of the boys around here."
"You might want to cover yourself up some," the Widow said with a cluck of her tongue, looking up and down my long legs which just as tanned and toned as the rest of me.
"Yes, Ma'am." I nodded seriously, pulling some blonde hair out of my blue eyes.
I won't pretend any false modesty because I know what I look like, but I'd learned to deal with boys and even full grown men. My old boyfriend, the one in the army, had tried hard and often to get into my panties, but I'd managed to fend him off. A little kissing was nice and occasionally his hands would wander to find my breasts, but that was as far as we'd gone for the two years we'd dated. My sex drive had never been much to brag about, unlike some of the girls I'd known in school. Doing more than kissing just didn't interest me a whole lot, although I'd been sorely tempted to give my boyfriend a little more than that as he'd gotten closer to shipping off for boot camp.
I'd ended up giving him a hand job in the backseat of his daddy's car. That had been the first and only time I'd seen an erection in my life, and certainly the only time I'd ever touched one! I hadn't done a very good job of jerking him off probably, but he hadn't complained and I did kiss him nice and let him play with my tits through my sweater. When he started cumming it had surprised me, just because I'd had no idea what to expect really. It had seemed kind of disgusting and I'd wiped that stuff off my fingers in a hurry.
That was the full extent of my sexual expertise as I walked home from work late one Friday evening.
"Oh!" I stopped walking as a shadowy figure crossed the sidewalk in front of me.
It was a dog, I realized, and a large one too, although I couldn't say for certain what breed it might have been. I'd never owned a dog, but of course I knew people who did and I wasn't afraid of them or anything. At least, not the nice ones, you know. This dog seemed nice enough, since he was largely ignoring me. He'd crossed the path in front of me and found an old maple tree, sniffing around it while I watched and then relieving himself the way dogs do.
I stood there for a moment and then started walking again. I'd seen several dogs around the neighborhood in the few weeks I'd been living there, but I didn't remember seeing this one before. Not that I should have, I mean. He was just a dog. So long as he wasn't rabid or anything, I felt pretty content to let him go his way while I walked the last couple blocks to my apartment above the Widow's garage.
"Nice doggy," I said, feeling suddenly nervous as he approached me. "Good boy. Uh ... Go home now. Go on."
When I'd started walking, he'd lifted his head at the clicking of my heels on the sidewalk. Even though I was just an assistant in the Sears art department, I still had to wear the uniform that all the sales girls wore in case a customer happened to see me. That wasn't so bad anyway, being a modest blue skirt and matching blazer with a white blouse. I thought it looked kind of nice and I wore a pair of sheer pantyhose and my underwear too, of course. And close-toed shoes, cheap ones from Pay-Less in black leather with two inch heels. I had my purse and being early autumn, the evenings were wonderfully cool, but hardly cold.
Anyway, the dog had noticed me and then he'd come walking over as I'd stopped once again. I seemed to remember hearing that you shouldn't run from a dog for some reason, or maybe that's bears, but either way I'd stopped moving. I remained very still and when he came close enough I extended my left hand slowly, trying not to show any fear. He was a big dog though, as I said, his shoulders reached my hips and his head nearly to my breasts as he stood there. His legs were thick and he looked healthy, very strong and muscular beneath his dark fur, and his eyes seemed to glow amber beneath the streetlights.
"Nice doggy," I repeated as he bent his nose to my fingers, sniffing at them and even giving my hand a cautious lick. I swallowed hard as I saw his teeth, long and sharp as his rough, wet tongue slipped between them.
After a few seconds of that, he stepped even closer and I felt a small jolt of adrenaline, a shot of genuine fear as the dog pressed his nose to my left leg just below the knee. He sniffed me there and lifted his head, dragging his nose up my stocking until he reached the hem of my skirt.
"Stop," I said, but not forcefully. I cleared my throat as his nose went under my skirt, actually lifting it slightly as the animal continued to explore my leg.
"No!" I said, taking a step backward and then another as he stood there. "Go home!"
He ignored that and I looked over my shoulder as the animal circled me slowly. He sniffed at the back of my knees and the under my skirt again, with his snout reaching for my butt, and I swatted at him nervously. I started walking away and the dog watched me for a moment, and then turned his head as if looking around. The night was very quiet though; except for me, there was little to occupy his attention. He started following, not quickly, but matching my pace and staying perhaps a dozen feet behind me all the way to my apartment.
Naturally, I felt pretty nervous by then. A strange dog had followed me home, a very large one, and I wasn't sure why. I'd never been the sort of girl who collected pets or anything. I'd had a cat, but she hadn't been much of a pet. Cats rarely are, in my opinion. I'd had a goldfish too, but there isn't a lot you can do with a fish, except forget to feed it once too often and then give it a tearful burial down the toilet. So this was a new experience, being followed by a dog. I felt nervous and even a little frightened perhaps, but at the same time, I think most people would understand when I say that seeing a stray pet tugs at the heart strings.
I mean, there's a natural affinity between humans and certain animals, like dogs, for example. I suspected that he was probably lonely, and hungry too, and maybe lost. A large dog like that must belong to someone, even without a collar to prove it. He certainly looked healthy enough and didn't stink of garbage or anything like that. The dog was reasonably clean and well groomed. So I figured someone must be missing him and he hadn't barked at me, or even growled. I wouldn't say he acted overly friendly, definitely not playful or whatever, but he wasn't being mean either.
So, I did what most people would do under the circumstances. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, unlocked my door, and looked down to see the dog sitting patiently on the paved driveway staring up at me. He ...