Chapter 8

I’m not used to sleeping with someones arms around me, it was nice, comfortable, like the warmth of her body against mine, the softness of her breasts nestled against me, her scent, not perfume, just Sue’s own aroma. We curled up together, Sue finding her place and just holding tight as sleep overtook us both. No dreams for me. Sue twitched a few times, waking me briefly, but I’m usually a light sleeper and used to waking and dropping back to sleep.

We both awoke early, kissing in the early morning light. Sue actually works out... !! That was a shock to my system, but not as much as joining her shocked my body. No gym for Sue, the bitch actually runs the dog agility course, in full, non-stop, six fucking times... !!

Of course we raced each other, foregone conclusion, Sue won but only by a nipple. That will change, I don’t seek competition but I’ll be fucked if she’s going to beat me again. There is pain in my future, not the good kind either. Ho hum...

We dashed, giggling to the showers, washing ourselves because we wanted breakfast more than sex, but we still did the ‘thing’, shampooing each other’s hair, rinsing, enough contact to maintain the bond. Towelled dry, mostly, we hit the dining area, coffee in big mugs and breakfast, not ordered, breakfast was self service. We self served, carrying our plunder to a table by the window, the morning sun already warm on our skin.

I suppose things will make more sense if you understand a bit about how the kennels work. You probably already know the Bar owner is the ultimate boss. She tends to concentrate on the Bar and it’s customers, the head trainer runs the kennels, he is in charge of the handlers, mostly guys, who run the place and ensure the customers are supplied with the dogs they want or request, at least as much as possible. They are the ones who care for the Bar dogs, rotating them so none are overworked. The bitches are also in their care.

Although there are sixteen rooms behind the red door, there are only fourteen alpha dogs, so fourteen of us dog girls, we are each responsible for one alpha, all of us paired like Sue and I, one room is empty, the one I used yesterday with Sue, the other is occupied but the dog isn’t on the roster, Titan belongs to the owner, he is a case apart, the window into his room is shuttered unless the boss wants it opened. The women who enter the red door can’t open his door, most don’t even know he exists.

The handlers are almost always in their informal uniform, jeans and a western style shirt with the Bar’s logo on the left breast, or shorts and a polo shirt, also embroidered. Us dog girls are naked more often that not, though we do get a uniform, leather skirt and polo shirt, we’re supposed to wear that whilst training ... mostly we do. The head trainer is actually a lot cooler than he appears, his approach is kind of, “not broke, don’t fix it”, so he leaves us to train the alpha dogs pretty much as we want, so long as the basic commands are taught and reinforced, and of course we get the expected results. He also believes a mistake by the alpha dog is our fault, not the dog’s.

Although Sue and I plan to alternate which dog gets trained each day, that isn’t exactly how it works out, all of the alpha dogs alternate time in the rooms, so as to give the women who enter a choice, unless they book a dog in advance. So if they are with a woman, or have been earlier, we skip their training and just exercise them.

Of course there are busy and quiet times, working women often enter on Friday nights to give themselves the rest of the weekend to recover before going back to work. Married women whose husbands travel tend to come on Mondays, again to have the rest of the week to heal. Then there are the regulars. The women who enter the red door pretty much fall into two types, those who get their fantasy fulfilled and never need a repeat, or never dare come back. The other type become addicted and return as often as they dare, or are able. Those are the ones like us, dog girls.