Chapter 8

It is a ridiculously hot night. No matter how low she turns down her air conditioner, the heat in her apartment just won’t let up. Katharina is beginning to feel like a caged animal in it anyway. Ever since that man, Beckett, showed up to claim Clovis, she has felt this way. It was strange that he even showed up at all considering that she hadn’t even put out a single poster about the missing dog. It is definitely something to ask Vicky about. Kat figures that the only explanation for it is that her friend had something to do with it. Of course it wouldn’t be for her benefit as Vicky is as much of a bitch as she is. It is why they are such good friends.

Rubbing her pussy she realizes that she just won’t get the relief she desires. Rubbing the back of her neck also brings her the realization that she is not going to find any relief from the heat either. Why is it so damn hot? She lets out a soft sigh as she feels her think top sticking to her skin. She tugs at it impatiently. If there is one thing she hates the most it is being hot. Being hot and sweaty while fucking is one thing, being this way while just lying on the bed is another. Maybe I just need to get out and get some fresh air. Find someone and fuck their brains out. And she knows just to place to pick up someone: the park. There is always someone in need of a little fun form the casual jogger to the person having lunch to the family man or woman needing a little on the side.

It’s late as she steps into the park, her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her shorts. Normally her father’s hired brutes are just out at the edges of her vision following her, keeping her safe, but not now—not after they have been pulled away. That’s okay because she can take care of herself. Plus, this is a safe park, heavily patrolled. She doesn’t miss them, but she is probably going to miss how they watched without watching as she fucked many men and women here in the park.

She smiles slightly as there is the smallest breeze—the barest breath of fresh air. At least there is some relief, though not much. So far she hasn’t seen anyone, but then again it is late. Ahead of her is a picnic table and she climbs on it, kicking off her shoes. Her long legs almost glow in the dim light. Chewing on her bottom lip, she scans the open area of the park as she tries to shove the memories of Clovis from her mind. Then leaning back on her hands and widening her legs just a bit so that that cool air can nip at her and maybe steal into the bottoms of her shorts, she notes that the park is almost completely deserted save for a man and his dog a few hundred feet away. It’s odd for there to be absolutely no one at least jogging here, and certainly not unusual to see a guy and his dog.

Kat looks at them without much interest. With the darkness of the night and the distance, their features are vague and unrecognizable. The dog seems very interested in a flower bed and the man is patiently waiting. Maybe he is waiting for the bus. He doesn’t even seem to be looking her way so she shifts her attention to the sky and leans back to lie on the top of the table, absently sliding her hand over her fabric covered crotch.

After a few minutes she hears the panting. While she has been looking at the stars, the dog has run up and made its way under her table. It whimpers a bit and gives her a good sniff, its nose straining for a second to poke her through the slats of the table. Barely fitting under the table, he soon comes out and puts his paws up on the bench and has another sniff at her arm.

With a grin, Kat props herself up on her side and reaches out to let him sniff her hand before leaning to scratch his ears. She recognizes him instantly: Clovis. The heat in her rises to a higher degree and she feels a wave of the warmth spread through her. This is provenance! She looks back toward where she last saw his owner and sees the old man moving slowly toward them with the leash in his hands and an apologetic wince on his face.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Beckett says. “I’m sorry, but he must have taken a liking to you.”

Kay grins and shakes her head. “It’s no bother.” She sits up to face the man. He seems gentle enough. If he were a threat then he could have attacked her in her apartment rather than do so here in the park. “I’m actually glad to see Clovis again.”

The man gives her a charming smile and responds to that evenly, “His name is actually Sirius. He’s a good dog.” He drops his head toward the big animal. “Aren’t you a good dog, Sirius?”

Now off the bench, Kat sees how the dog reacts happily to the man’s praise, taking the petting with some excitement before putting its front paws up on the seat of the table again and giving her leg another sniff and long lick. She giggles and starts to push him back, smiling at the man as she does. But her hands don’t even begin to move him off and a low growl starts in the back of the beast’s throat as she attempts it. This is so uncharacteristic of the dog she was so recently intimate with. Snatching back her hand, Kat blinks and looks up at the man again, growing alarmed.

Beckett shrugs and gives her another smile. “I guess he likes you. Don’t blame him. You’re pretty hot. You’re not wearing a bra, are you? Fantastic tits you got. I can see those nipples under that shirt, and I’m pretty sure he can smell that little wet cunt under those slutty shorts.” He says all this in a very kind way, as if he were showering her full of compliments.

It takes Kat a few heart beats to realize that she did indeed hear the old man right. The guy is ancient and yet he just hit on her in the most obnoxious way possible. Those green eyes of hers don’t blink. They remain quite huge as her pretty little mouth opens in shock. Beckett just watches her face with the very slightest of smirks. He does not seem at all surprised as she throws herself off the other side of the picnic table and begins running toward the street on the opposite side.

Heart pounding in her chest, Kat concentrates on getting as far away as she can. Right about now she wishes that the men her father usually assigned to her were there. This is not right. Clovis ... Sirius ... whatever the fuck his name is ain’t the same dog as before. And then there is the old man, Beckett. He had seemed so nice when he collected his dog. She doesn’t hear anything behind her, and she just prays that he is just going to let her go—though she doubts it very much. But then again, there is no sound of a chase.

And then she hears it. “Alright, go get her, Sirius.”

She can hear the massive animal flicking through the taller grass almost immediately afterward. A moment later the barking starts—something she had never heard from the dog before now. It is a savage, growling rage filled barking as he gains on her fleeing form. The terrified tears just start to pour from her as she tries to keep running, knowing that the dog is gaining on her and that there is no outrunning it. He will have her so very soon ... She screams so loudly, the sound splits the darkness, but it almost seems to cause her to stumble and she goes down.

Sirius is on her in a second, snarling and barking as she lands on her stomach, scraping her hands and knees raw. This is so unlike the dog she knew and gave herself over to. Two front paws come down between her shoulder blades, knocking the air out of her. The barking and snarling is so close that it is right up at her ear. She even feels a drop of drool hit that back of her neck. Screaming and crying, Kat thrashes, trying for a second to pull herself up and tear herself away. It is a useless gesture because she feels the teeth on the back of her shoulder and a low, warning growl. The teeth break the skin, but not by much. That jaw could easily snap her in half in a split second, yet it just keeps to the surface, pinning her there and forcing her to remain still.

Again, Beckett strolls up in an almost leisurely fashion. He is still carrying that leash as it dangles in front of her face for a second. Kat is sobbing, face full of dirt and her hands and knees scraped raw. She is sputtering out frantic incomprehensible noises. The man leans down and ruffles her short black hair. His voice is soft and almost kind. “Now, now, let’s get you to my place and cleaned up. That’s a good girl. Easy girl...”

Katharina Bucher never sees the other hand that eases in front of her mouth. A few words that she cannot understand come from his lips and a moment later everything just fades to black.

Kath wakes slowly—groggy and cold. Her brain relishes this though because the heat wave that has been going on through her body all night is completely gone. She can feel her nipples tight with the chill, and eyes still closed, she smiles slightly. Her mouth doesn’t seem to be working though. It feels lodged open, lips forced around something hard. She Opens her eyes and brings her hands to her face quickly. She grunts as she finds her hand wrapped tightly in some sort of mitt. Duct tape circles both her hands, rendering them useless. A little squawk escapes from around the object in her mouth as Kat realizes that there is something wedged in her mouth, tied around her head—something that has been there awhile and is making her drool like a baby. Her first thought it that it is a ball, but it’s not. The center of it is open to allow ... She doesn’t want to think about what its purpose is.

In her panic, Kat starts to look around to grasp her situation better. She finds herself in what looks like a crate. She tries to move to the front of it and finds that other than her hands, there is something else that is restraining her. The girl cannot seem to be able to move her legs. Her head snaps down to see that there is some sort of leather strap around her naked waist with a chain on each side running down each ankle. Combined with a spreader bar that keeps her legs pushed apart this makes her unable to straighten her legs. If she could get out, her only option would be to crawl to safety. Safety has to be her only option because waking up like this obviously means that she is in some serious trouble.

A low wine of raw terror escapes as Kat is now completely aware of her situation. She suddenly cannot breath. There is too much saliva in her throat from the gag and too much fear slamming into her mind. She starts coughing violently, her whole body shaking with tears as all her nerves just explode like a star going supernova. A moment later, the crate is rocked by something impacting the side—something large. A growl and then a warning bark accompany the move before the dull but insistent sound of nails on plastic. Clovis, or rather, Sirius is trying to tear open the crate and get at her. Kat starts to cry, really sob before finally screaming even louder at this. Yet, the almost frenzied scratching and snarling just continues. In fact, it gets even more intent. The girl almost blacks out from the fear driving hard at her when suddenly it just stops. There are footsteps and then the dog is yanked back and away from the side of her cage. She hears a few clicks of chain and rocks herself toward one of the slats to try and peek out.

What she sees is alarming in its simplicity. A white washed room, the floors and walls painted a sparkling white. Tied to the wall is the massive dog. He is straining at his lead to get back to her crate with drool falling in puddles as he snaps and snarls. Finally he lies down and starts to lick himself intently. Kat switches her attention to the pair of legs that are moving towards her crate. Hands reach down and unlock the door. She instinctively shrinks toward the back of the cage but his hand finds her hair and he takes a good handful and yanks her forward to dump her unceremoniously in the bright, glaring florescent light. She blinks and tries in vain to cover her juicy breasts with those taped up hands and to somehow shift her legs together to hide that spread, pink pussy.

This earns her a swift slap across the face. His hand is strong and not at all hesitant. The pain spreads over her cheek in an instant as she screams. Tears pour down her face to splatter against her breasts. She tries to talk, to plead with him to let her go, to reassure him that she won’t tell anyone, but the gag muffles all her words. Her tongue is not working and all she is able to do is choke out some unintelligent grunts.

This too earns her another slap across the face and finally he speaks in a low, but firm and highly dangerous voice, emphasizing each sentence by landing a slap somewhere else—on her breast, her belly, inner thigh and her face again. “Little bitches don’t talk. They don’t know how. They don’t cover themselves in front of their master. They don’t bite. They do exactly what they are told to do when they are told to do it. They eat, piss, shit and fuck when they are told to. If they do not behave, they get put down.” Each time a slap lands, Kat screams and thrashes and tries her damnedest to evade the blows that always seem to find her anyway. Finally, his hands stop to pick her up to put her on her hand and knees the way she should be. Those same hard hands glide over her thighs—gentle and soft—then over the curve of her belly and to her pussy. Very gently, he starts to pet her, rubbing slowly, two fingers finding her clit and stroking it so softly as he whispers, “You can be a good girl though, can’t you? I know you can be a good girl for me. You were once a good girl. I’m going to train you properly and give you all the love I can. I am a patient man. I have lived several lifetimes to get where I am now. Now, who’s my good girl?”