Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“They look wonderful running at full speed,” I muttered, half to myself and half to the woman standing a few yards away. I suspected, thanks to the dog leads dangling from her hand that she was the owner.
“Thank you, yes, they are a delight to watch,” she replied and took a pace or two to come and stand closer. “Do you like dogs?” she asked.
“Dogs like yours I said but not otherwise.”
“But dogs are so athletic as well as loving and obedient.” She responded.
“Hi, I’m Liz,” she said holding out her hand.
She smiled and then took the final step to stand next to me. I took her hand. It was soft and welcoming. She had a firmness of grip that I appreciated. She was about my age, maybe slightly older and looked fit and healthy, probably from exercising the dogs. She wore jeans and a t-shirt and a pair of what looked to be old and very worn trainers. She obviously didn’t bother dressing up to take the dogs for a walk. Not that I could brag as I had simply thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts before coming out.
“Strictly speaking they’re not called dogs. They’re hounds,” she announced.
“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me, but other owners are very fussy about these things. They’re a breed known as Afghan Hounds.”
What I was not expecting was the interrogation that followed, nor my self-revelations that it produced.
“I’m Ailsa,” I announced, trying not to blush. She released my hand before turning her attention back to the two dogs, sorry hounds, careering around the field. They were long-legged and covered with flowing hair which rippled as they ran.
“So, I assume you are not here dog-walking?” she asked.
“Nonoo, just my usual daily stroll among the green fields. It takes my mind off work,” I replied.
“And what is it you do?”
I blushed again, this time more obviously.
“It’s a bit embarrassing” I managed to stutter out.
She immediately stopped watching the dogs and turned her attention to me. I tried to turn away and get away from her penetrating look.
“Intriguing,” she said, “tell me more.”
“It’s really nothing,” I said, stumbling over my words. Her silence told me that she was waiting for more.
“I’ve been quite ill with Covid,” I explained, “and as part of my recovery I’ve been writing short stories.”
“Wow! That’s brilliant. Are they published?”
“Sort of but not really, only online.”
“Might I have read them? I read a lot of online.”
“Probably not,” I managed to stutter, “it’s a very specialised site.” I realised that I was blushing madly, and she was looking at me intensely.
“What’s the name of the site?” she asked.
I was feeling very flustered and caught off guard by her question. Without thinking I told her the site name.
“In that case I might have read them. I use that site all the time. It makes for good bedtime reading.”
When she said that I blushed even more. The idea that I was chatting to a possible reader suddenly terrified me.
“I’m intrigued,” she told me, “Do you fancy a cup of tea or coffee? Round at mine. Its only five minutes away and you can tell me more. The girls have had long enough running around. Hang on while I get them in.”
Without waiting for a refusal, she reached in her pocket and took out a shiny whistle which she put to her lips and blew into. A pathetic squeak emerged but it was enough for the two dogs to stop their running around and come bounding over. It must have been one of those high-pitched dog whistles. It was only after they arrived and sat at her feet that I noticed that the leashes she had in her hand istanbul travesti had the collars attached. The dogs were not wearing them. She squatted down and fastened one of the collars around a dog’s neck and then handed me the free end of the leash before she turned her attention to the second dog. I simply stood there in a bit of a daze wondering what I was supposed to do with the dog I had hold of. I needn’t have worried. It just sat there quietly, not making a fuss. Finally, she stood back up and linked her arm with mine.
“Come, let’s go and I’ll put the kettle on.”
Linked as we were I had little choice but to follow her. It seems I was in charge of one of the dogs as she made no move to reclaim the leash I was holding. I had no choice but to go with her. As we walked, she asked me further about my stories. She seemed delighted and then admitted that she had read them and enjoyed them. I was shocked and embarrassed. Eventually she stopped outside a small, terraced cottage. She took out a key and opened the door and then led the way in.
“Mind your head,” she warned me, “the door is very low. They were smaller back in 1750 when this place was built. But come in.”
I followed her in and then waited while she kicked off her shoes onto a sheet of newspaper just inside the door. I looked around the single room and it was spotless, so I copied her and removed my trainers.
I waited just inside the door and the dog I was in charge of simply sat at my feet. Liz and her dog were in the centre of a low-ceilinged room that had little in the way of furniture. An old-fashion what I think is called a chaise-longue against one side wall and a heavy looking dark wood sideboard against the opposite wall. The only hint of modernity was the smallish flat-screen TV on top of the sideboard. Without another word she knelt on the thick pile carpet and started to remove her dog’s collar. When she stood up the dog seemed to take this as permission to leave and it loped off through a door beyond her into what I took to be the kitchen.
“Can you release yours?” she asked, gently, “I like them to be natural so if you unbuckle the collar, please.”
I squatted down and, after a bit of fiddling managed to release the pair of buckles to undo the collar. It was much wider than I expected and so very soft to the touch. When I stood up the dog copied its mate and scurried off into the kitchen leaving us alone.
“They’re so well behaved,” I commented, “how do you do it?”
“Years of training,” she replied.
I held up the collar and leash. “Where do you want me to put this?”
“Well either you can put it on the hook on the back of the door, or …”
I was starting to turn to the door when her last word stopped me for some unknown reason, it was maybe her tone of voice, but I felt compelled to wait for her next utterance.
“… or I can think of somewhere much nicer and more decorative. It would look just right about that pretty neck of yours.”
Neither of us spoke but my hand involuntarily went up and touched my neck. I had a sudden image of what it would look and feel like.
“Yes, that pretty neck. It would sit prettily right there. Do you want to try?”
“Do you think so? I’ve never …”
“No time like the present. Aren’t you curious?”
Without waiting for an answer, she came over to me and held out her hand. In a daze I handed her the collar and leash I was holding.
“Now, lift up your hair.”
As if in a dream I held my brown shoulder-length hair out of the way and let her buckle the collar around my neck. My neck was a little larger than the dog’s, istanbul travestileri so it was a little tight, but it was so soft that it wasn’t uncomfortable. After she had fastened the two buckles she stood back, still holding the free end of the leash. She took another step back, forcing me to follow her. She stood in the centre of the room and made a gesture with her hand.
“Let’s see how you walk with a collar,” she said, gesturing again for me to move.
I have no idea why I felt compelled to obey her instruction, but I started to walk in a circle around her. She rotated on the spot looking me up and down, smiling to herself.
“Very pretty,” she commented, “it definitely suits you. Don’t you think so?”
“If you say so,” I managed to reply.
“Let’s try some exercises. Kneel!”
There was something about her tone of voice that seemed to overwhelm any idea of resistance in me, and I dropped to my knees.
“Good girl,” she told me and stroked my hair. “But there is something not right about your general appearance.” I looked up at her, puzzled.
“What can it be?” she asked herself and then smiled, “I know, it’s your top, it clashes terribly. It will have to go. Can you manage it, or do you need my help?”
I felt confused and completely unable to move. I simply knelt in front of her staring at the carpet.
“Oh dear, are we stuck? Here, let me help.” She took one step towards me then, “arms up!”
Without thinking and because it sounded like, and indeed was, a command, I lifted my arms above my head. “Good girl,” she said as she bent down and lifted my t-shirt up and over my head. She extricated her end of the lead and tossed the unwanted T into a corner.
“Now let’s try the walking again. Stand!”
I was beginning to become used to being obedient and I stood up for her. My nakedness suddenly felt right. I could see her point. The green of the t-shirt did not go with the pale brown of the leather collar. She flicked the leash and I started to walk in a circle once more. She watched me with a smile on her face as she revolved on her spot in the centre of the room. Suddenly her smile vanished and was replaced with a frown.
“It’s still not right. The shorts need to go as well. Good girl.”
Even her praise had an air of a command. I hesitated, knowing I had no underwear on. Why had I been so casual before going for my walk this morning. But I knew she was right. The colour clash was too much. I stopped walking my circle and looked at her and she simply nodded. To this day I don’t know why I did what she was expecting of me. With awkward hands I pushed my shorts to the floor and then stepped out of them. I bent down and picked them up and handed them to her, almost as if she owned them. She hardly glanced at them before tossing them into the cornered to lie with my t-shirt in a crumpled and unwanted heap. I was suddenly glad that I had taken the trouble to shave my pussy last night when I took my bath although I had no idea how important that might become. I began to feel quite proud of the me on display and my shoulders went back slightly as my back straightened. Then I blushed as I felt my nipples stiffen and a tingle begin in my pussy. I didn’t dare look down to check if any moisture was showing but I felt it must be. I struggled to cope with all these new and conflicting emotions.
I felt a tug on the leash and realised I was being pulled into motion. Obediently I was made to do several more circles. I could feel her eyes on me looking me up and down. Then, a sharp sting as she hit my bottom with the free end of the leash.
“Knees travesti istanbul higher,” came her command.
I started to do as I was told. As I high stepped around the circle I came to a point where I was facing the door and the single small window next to it. I suddenly sensed movement outside. Someone was passing in the lane directly outside the cottage. The spell was broken, and I panicked. Without thinking I dove to the floor and scrambled into the corner on the other side of the door. I tried to huddle there, covering myself to hide my nakedness.
I nearly pulled Liz off her feet as she had her end of the leash wrapped around her wrist.
“What the …?” she exploded at me.
“I … I’m sorry but there was someone outside,” I managed to stammer.
“Did they see you?”
“I … err … I don’t think so.”
“Then there’s no harm done, silly girl,” she said dismissively, “but I do get your point. Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private. Hands and knees … NOW!”
Cautiously I disentangled myself and got on my hands and knees. I glanced toward the window, but it was set well back into the thick wall, and I was still well out of sight.
“Follow me, silly bitch.” She said and led me over to a door in one of the side walls. When she opened it, I expected to see another room but instead was a hidden staircase leading upwards to what I presumed was the bedroom. I had no opportunity to argue as she tugged on the leash and began to climb the stairs pulling me after her.
The stairs came out on one side of the upstairs bedroom. Opposite was a large window. The curtains were wide open and the light from the sun was dazzling. I could just make out the landscape beyond. Nothing for miles except fields of green and the occasional coppice of woodland. The rest of the room was dominated by a large bed. There were a few bits and pieces of furniture but there was little room for anything much. She tugged me to the only empty space in the room, a bare patch of carpet at the foot of the bed.
“Kneel up!” Again, it was a command and I felt obliged to obey. I began to sense that I had taken on a new personality.
She came and sat on the end of the bed directly in front of me and then she smiled. Then one foot came forward and insinuated itself between my knees. She moved it from side to side and forced my knees apart. Strangely I felt no reluctance in letting her manipulate me and I willingly allowed her to display me. I could sense that my pussy was already leaking.
“Good girl, and so obedient.” Her voice was soft and gentle. She tugged on the leash, forcing me to bend at the waist and bringing me closer to her and then she leaned forward and put out her hand to stroke the side of my face. It was a surprising move and it made me shiver with excitement. An excitement which I didn’t understand. But her hand didn’t stop at my cheek but continued to my neck and then further. Now her hand was on my breast and her fingers were toying with my nipple. She was still smiling the same beatific smile as she suddenly gripped my nipple and squeezed it hard. It wasn’t a momentary pinch but a painful grip that seemed to last forever.
As I squirmed in agony, I felt movement further down as her stocking clad foot started to slide up the inside of my thighs. Then I felt her foot on my pussy as her toes started to trace the outline of my wet labia. However, nothing could distract me from the pain from my pinched nipple.
Suddenly her cruel hand was gone, and she leaned back. She still smiled the same smile, and her eyes were fixed on my face. The pain was till there but was fading slowly and I took a large breath of relief. What did not stop was her foot as it continued to trace the line of my pussy, occasionally pausing to toy with my clit. I could feel my arousal building.
“Such a good bitch,” she announced, “we are going to have such fun together.”
To be continued…
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32