This is an adult story not intended for the squeamish. For those without a strong stomach, it may make you physicall ill. Please read at your own risk. ___________________________________________________________________ Dog Breath by Dafney Cecil Dewitt Outside the house, it is cold and still dark. A broad beam of light from the kitchen windows cuts through the gloom. A light splattering of rain drops taps against the windows. It is going to be another dark wet day. Inside the kitchen smells of coffee, and heated maple syrup. Standing at the kitchen sink, Donna Fuller is making pancakes for breakfast. She's a tall blonde housewife with medium length hair, and well-shaped breasts. Her pink robe is tightly cinched around her small waist. Donna Fuller seems pure and innocent. She is a young attractive mother making breakfast for her family. The evil hidden inside her rises slowly to the surface like bubbles of putrid air. When the bubbles burst, Donna's mind wanders and her nightmare begins. The voices return. They tell Donna that the large bowl of pancake batter looks like a bowl full of cum. Lifting the wooden spoon, Donna lets the batter drip into the bowl. She fights the thought, but gives up. With a sigh, Donna stops stirring the pancake batter and sits down at the kitchen table. Her long legs spread apart with knees bent out. She feels awkward. With her left hand, she covers the top of the coffee cup, feeling the moist heat while her right hand works out-of-sight between her legs. Like an addict hooked on drugs, Donna has resorted to masturbation. It is a act of desperation fueled by the frustration of sexual failure. But in the quiet of early morning not even self-manipulation can stimulate release. Like an addict hooked on drugs, she dreams of more. Without warning, the voices get stronger. Her hand trembles. Her desire wanes. She gives up. It isn't working. The voices take over. "Begin action," the voices say, soft as a whisper, Donna calls out to her husband and kids. "Let's go! Your breakfast is ready!" Her husband, Bob is the first to the table followed by Cindy and Tommy, the twin teenagers. The baby, Leslie, just 8 months old will be breast fed after the others leave. Cindy picks at her pancake like a bird while Bob wolfs down large pieces dripping with maple syrup. Donna watches the amber colored syrup drip onto his plate. She is mesmerized by the dripping fluid. She wants to put her hand over his plate and let the syrup fall onto her fingers. She wants to stick out her tongue and lick the sweet goo off her fingers. She wants to suck her fingers off in front of her husband, Bob, while the children watch. Just as her hand moves forward toward the dripping syrup, her son, Tommy interrupts. "Mom!" complains Tommy, "Why does it always have to be pancakes on Thursday?" "Stop your whining, and eat your pancakes before they get cold," Donna scolds. She is angry that Tommy has broken the spell, but in her heart, Donna holds a special affection for Tommy. He's becoming a man, he's starting to rebel, but she still controls him. A woman controlling a young man bursting with sexual energy. The thought fills her with promise. Donna smiles at Tommy. For Bob, Cindy and Tommy, the voices don't seem to exist. They eat breakfast without concern. Only Donna is worried. She is anxious to get her husband off to work and the kids packed onto the school bus before something bad happens. Before the voices, Donna understood the difference between love and sex. Now she isn't certain of anything. She loves her husband. Bob, but hasn't had an orgasm in over six months. In her most intimate moments, in the privacy of her own bedroom, she has been unable to climax. As if reading her mind, Bob looks up. "Heat me up a little, sweetheart." Donna pours the coffee quickly. Bob is a kind and loving husband, but he has a quick temper. He expects a good breakfast with good service. She does not want to make him angry. The voices are like seductive whispers. Gentle at first. Promising to make her happy, to give her new powers. The power to fill the sexual needs of her dark side. But this sexual thrill is fulfilled at the expense of control. Cindy pushes away her plate, "Sorry, Mom, I have to watch my weight." Before Cindy stands up, Donna runs her hand over Cindy's pony tail and re-ties the red ribbon which was starting to come undone. Cindy never eats enough. Donna suppresses the urge to yank Cindy's pony tail down until her head is forced between Donna's splayed legs. Eat your Mother" Donna says to herself. She smiles benignly at Cindy. Donna attends to her family like a waitress. She feels like hired help, a servant. She wears an old pink bathrobe instead of a white waitress's uniform. Underneath the robe is nothing but a stained nursing bra and panties. While Cindy shuffles off to the bathroom, Donna bends down beneath the kitchen sink to fill the dog's food bowl. There is a rushing sound in her ears as she bends over. It sounds like muffled laughter from a room full of people. Donna is forced to submit. Without submission she is denied pleasure. Without pleasure her love is empty. Donna cunt aches to be filled. She craves fulfillment. In her quest for satisfaction, she risks exposure as the price of pleasure increases. Her robe falls open exposing her hanging breasts. As she hesitates before closing her robe, Donna feels a distinct sexual surge. She looks up and sees her son Tommy look away as she cinches the pink belt more tightly around her waist. As Tommy turns to leave, he thinks "What a slut Mom's turned into, what a tease." He averts his eyes from his mother's exposed breasts and leaves the kitchen quickly before saying something out loud that he might later regret. Someday he vows, he will get even. "I'm going out to the garage to feed Bowser", Donna announces. No one hears her. Her husband, Bob is in the bathroom brushing his teeth and Cindy and Tommy are collecting their school books. Stepping down into the early morning darkness of the garage the sudden coolness lifts up under her robe making her nipples harden as she yells out "Here Bowser - Breakfast time!" From then on everything happens in slow motion. A tall skinny teenager with a forehead full of angry red pimples and pale dead blue eyes rises from behind the family car. His eyes are blank, empty looking, and he has a faint wisp of a blond mustache. Donna stares at him uncertain what to do. It is the eyes that hold her attention. They appear dull, lifeless, and dead. It is some time, before she notices that the black object in his right hand is a Sony camcorder. The voices command her, "Obey the boy." Moments later, Bowser bounds out from behind the car. His penis is red, engorged, and dangling below his belly almost scraping against the concrete floor. The boy must have been exciting him. "Jerk off the dog," the boy tells Donna, raising his camcorder. Bowser, a large black Doberman, lunges towards her. She pats him on the head with her left hand and sets the food bowl down on the roof of the car. With the food out-of-reach of the dog, the boy is demanding that Donna satisfy the dog's other hunger. Donna looks into the dead pale blue eyes as if there has been a misunderstanding. "Jerk the dog off," the boy demands. Donna hesitates. This boy, no older then her own son Tommy, is demanding she masturbate the family dog. This is disgusting. Donna resists the urge to slide her hand around the dog's angry red dick and pump him to a climax. Kneeling beside the dog, Donna watches as the boy unzips his pants removing a pale flaccid cock. "Wanna suck my cock?" "No, please..." Donna begs shaking her head sideways. "Then do the dog." "OK." Donna slides her right hand under the dog's belly, slowly massaging, rubbing his already engorged penis. It is hot, red and very stiff. Her hand pumps. The dog's dick responds to her stimulation. She jacks him off into the empty water bowl. Her actions are mechanical and pre-rehearsed. She knows what the voices want. Donna feels like she had done this before. Her hand knows what to do, but her mind remains blank. Donna watches as the dog's throbbing penis spits out a long stream of yellow-white cum into the green plastic water bowl. It squirts out in a thick gooey ribbon. "Breakfast time, here Bowser!" -the voices, echo in her mind, mocking her own voice. "I'm not a dog", Donna blurts out unexpectantly, expressing her thoughts out loud. The boy lowers the camcorder and stops recording. "I could fuck you like a dog," the boy brags. "You wouldn't," says Donna. "Why not?" "My husband," says Donna glancing toward the house. Laughing at her threat, the boy waves his flaccid penis in front of Donna's face. He is about to rub his cock across her lips when the voices speak. "Do you like fresh dog cum in the morning?" say the voices. "That's disgusting! I never ..." Donna falters for a lack of words. "You never tried dog cum?" The pale eyed boy, puts away his penis, zips his pants, and raises the Sony Camcorder to his face. Donna looks at him saying nothing, her mild filled with the image of dripping pancake batter. The voices command her. "Take the bowl and pour the dog cum into your mouth, but don't swallow." The voices have spoken. She already knows the consequences of disobedience. They will humiliate her, debase her, punish her beyond wildest nightmare, and with no remorse. Donna makes no response. She seems frozen in time. Her eyes glaze over. She thinks to herself. "How did I ever get myself into this situation?" "Is there any way out?" Her thoughts dart about in confusion. Just a few feet away, her husband is brushing his teeth. Tommy and Cindy are getting ready for school, and she is about to drink fresh dog cum. "My, God" she gasps, "Please, let me do something else". Donna turns to face the pimply faced boy. "I'll do anything." She instinctively drops to her knees, begging, looking toward the blue eyed boy with the red pimpled forehead. "I'll suck your cock," says Donna. In response, he zooms the camcorder in on her upturned face, but remains silent. Donna fumbles with the boy's zipper. She removes his long pale cock, and is poised to put it in her mouth. She is waiting for a sign. Some sort of acknowledgment that she is making a sacrifice. She is not going to suck this strange boy's cock without his consent. The least he can do is offer a word of encouragement. The boy starts peeing. It splashes against her face and soaks the sleeve of her bathrobe before Donna pushes it away. A long yellow stream of hot piss flows onto the floor making a faint cloud of steam where it hits the cold cement floor. A pool of urine collects under the right front tire of the car. The pale eyed boy, puts away his penis, zips his pants, and raises the Sony Camcorder to his face. "Drink the dog cum," repeat the voices. Donna tilts the green bowl toward her open mouth saying "My God, I'm a slut" Her eyes are open as the sticky fluid coagulates into a single pool of goo, as she slowly tilts the bowl toward her lips. When the fluid reaches the lip of the bowl, she has to open her mouth wider and raise her head up to keep the goo from dribbling down her chin. Just before the slimy dog cum goo drips out of the bowl onto her upturned tongue, Donna repeats her self-debasement, "I'm a dog slut". It tastes repulsive to her. Hot, wet and slimy it rolls off her tongue onto the under side of her mouth like a fat garden slug. Donna starts to gag. She resists the impulse to vomit by turning her head down so the cum won't slide down her throat. The fresh dog cum fills her mouth with a pungent odor making Donna's eyes water. To settle her stomach, she tries to pretend her mouth is filled with pancake batter. The voices calm her. They are condescending. "That's a good girl" "You're a good Mommy." "Now be a nice wife, and say good-bye to your husband and kids." She turns automatically toward the kitchen door like a zombie. Back in the kitchen, Donna's world explodes into activity. Cindy yells out a quick "Good-bye, I love you Mom!" Tommy avoids looking at Donna shouting out a quick "Bye!". Donna remains silent. Afraid to talk. Bob is busy stuffing his cell phone into his briefcase. No one notices that Donna is white as a sheet and appears to be in shock. For a moment, she grows angry that no one in her family pays attention to her predicament. "They don't really care about me at all," she thinks. She is numb-struck by an overwhelming sense of abandonment. That feeling is quickly replaced by fear. Bob is at the door expecting a quick good-bye kiss. With a feigned confidence Donna offers her cheek to Bob. Expecting and hoping for a a quick good-bye kiss on the cheek. She desparately needs to spit out the dog cum. She feels confused and lost as Bob ignores her cheek and turns his face toward her lips. "How about a little exchange of body fluids ?" he jokes. She keeps her lips tightly pressed together. His lips press against hers. He keeps her from moving by placing one hand behind her head, forcing her lips to his. My God! Donna thinks. What if he sticks his tongue into her mouth and tastes the thick pungent dog goo? How will she explain it? Will he ever forgive her? Why is she doing this to him? Gradually his tongue begins to snake its way between her lips past the pale pink lipstick and into the hot wet mouth. In just another few seconds, it will penetrate her. Their tongues will intermingle with the thick gooey dog cum. Standing in the doorway of their home. Kissing her husband good-bye, Donna will share her secret. Donna is in a panic. Maybe she should swallow the dog cum. She feels her stomach heave at the thought. If it's already in her mouth why can't she just swallow ? Her mouth is filling with saliva behind her tightly clenched teeth. Donna has decided. She will swallow it. Maybe, she really is a dog slut. Before Donna swallows, Bob suddenly releases her from the kiss. "Hey! Your sleeve is all wet," he complains. Donna takes the opportunity to back up. "I accidentally dipped it in the dog's water bowl," she mumbles between clenched teeth. "Yeah, well, just don't get it on me," says Bob looking directly into her eyes. Carefully avoiding the wet sleeve, Bob grabs her short blond hair twisting her head toward his for another kiss. Bob has a quick temper and tends to grab what belongs to him. He likes to take what is his. If only he knew, Donna thinks, her mind in a panic. Her hair caught in his hand, twisting her head toward him, Donna knows that Bob is serious. He wants some tongue. A little French kiss in the morning to warm him up. For Donna this is a real dilemma. She wants to submit. She wants to suck her husband's tongue into her mouth. But if she does gives her husband the kiss he wants, what will he do to her for giving him a mouthful of dog cum? Their lips touch. Twisting her head against Bob's grip, Donna suddenly breaks out of his embrace. The pulling on her hair hurts. She backs up. "Sorry, bad breath." Donna mumbles, hoping her apology will be enough. "Dog breath!" The voices shout so loudly that Donna is afraid her husband will hear. Bob grabs her left breast and roughly pinches the nipple twice, angry at being rebuffed. "Dog breath!," shout the voices. Bob leaves vowing silently to teach his wife a lesson. There is a sound of light laughter in Donna's ears. She feels faint. The moment passes. Her secret is safe. ______________________________________________________________________ Do you want more? Have some ideas on where you want this story to go? Let me know at DafneyDewitt@hotmail.com