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From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Breeders (2/9)  "The Breeders"
Date: Fri, 19 Apr 1996 08:02:09 -0700
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roiled.  She reached for the glass of water and drank deeply.
     "Feeling better?" he asked, the cold smile fixed upon his 
face.
     Just then the tag end of the rewinding movie reel whirred 
loose and slap-slapped noisily against the machine.
     "Mario!" Jason's voice was edged with contempt for the 
careless boy. "Watch what you're doing.  We wouldn't want to 
damage that film.  It might not be quite so easy to get Carolyn to 
make another that ... interesting."
     "Ohhhh, how could you?" Her voice was rimmed with hatred.  
"HOW COULD YOU?"
     "How could I?" Jason smiled.  "It was really quite simple, my 
dear girl.  You are sexually inclined by nature and that enviable 
virtue combined with your almost unbelievable naivete ... well, 
suffice to say, it was a simple task to convince your subconscious 
mind that it was a devoted lover between your legs."
     "How could you do such an awful thing?" Carolyn whispered 
hoarsely.
     "Me?" Jason laughed.  "You were the one who did the 'awful' 
things, Carolyn.  You forced my poor assistant into some very 
degrading situations.  I was really quite shocked!  Ah, but then, 
you shall judge for yourself.  Mario, would you start the next 
roll of film please?"
     Carolyn's eyes widened and she flashed a quick look toward 
Mario.  He grinned back and shook his dark head in mock 
disapproval.
     "No!" she shouted.  "No, I don't want to see it.  I don't 
know how you made me do those terrible things ... it was a trick 
of some kind, drugs or something ... but I don't want to see it.  
Please.  PLEASE."
     "Oh, very well."  He nodded toward Mario to stop the 
projector.  The room was suddenly very silent without the hum of 
the machine.  "I must say I'm rather disappointed, though.  It was 
a very ... stimulating ... experience watching that bit of film.  
You may pack away the reel, Mario. Be sure to lock it up quite 
safely.  Miss Vance may wish to see it again some day."
     "You're the one who should be locked up!  You're crazy!" She 
stared at the man across the table, her fingers gripping the chair 
so tightly that the tips were white and bloodless.  "You really 
are crazy!"
     "Crazy? ... Like a fox, my dear Miss Vance."  The icy smile 
never left his lips.  "Those films are my insurance that you won't 
try to have me locked up.  Or anything else unpleasant.  Should 
you try?  I would have to tell the authorities that you used your 
position with Royal Benson Kennels to try to blackmail me.  I 
would have to show them the films I bought from you at exorbitant 
prices in order to buy your silence.  It was worth the $5,000 you 
demanded to protect the reputation of the Kennels."
     "They wouldn't believe you.  If it was true, you would have 
turned me over to the police right then and there." "Not 
necessarily.  Jason Benson is known as a quiet sensitive man, an 
artist in his own right.  They would understand why I wouldn't 
want to go into court to testify against you.  It would mean 
publicity, the front pages of every paper.  No, the police would 
understand why a man of my reputation preferred to pay blackmail."  
He leaned back in the chair and looked at her over the brandy 
glass cupped in his hand.  "I feel quite confident that you would 
prefer to assist me with my work and remain silent rather than 
spend ten years in prison for blackmail ... should it come to 
that."
     "You couldn't prove blackmail even if you wanted to."
     "Oh, but I could."  His voice was ripe with confidence.  "You 
see, I withdrew $5,000 in cash from my bank today ... in small 
bills ... the cashier who has long handled my personal account was 
quite concerned with my nervousness.  Considerate girl, that, she 
asked me twice if I was sure everything was all right."
     Carolyn stared in disbelief.  This couldn't be happening to 
her, not to Carolyn Vance from Tyler Corners whose major sins to 
date consisted of using her mother's credit card for gas and 
necking after the Saturday night movie.  These things only 
happened to girls off the street, girls who were looking for 
trouble and were disappointed if they didn't find it. He couldn't 
really believe she would stay here and work for him, not after 
this!
     "And if you are still thinking about going to the police, 
Carolyn," he spoke softly, "discounting the blackmail charges, do 
you think they would believe you?"
     "Of course, they'd believe me," she answered incredulously.  
"No girl would do a terrible thing like that willingly.  You 
forced me!"
     "Did I?" The frozen smile took on a new malignancy.  "There 
were no bonds holding you down, no one holding your legs apart for 
the dog.  Do you really think any person seeing the joy on your 
pretty face would believe you weren't enjoying it?  The way you 
reached up with your wet little pussy and screwed yourself higher 
onto his big cock, you think anybody's going to believe you didn't 
want to fuck that dog?"
     "And afterwards, Carolyn, when you and the dog had both spent 
yourselves so disgustingly, when the swelling went down and he 
pulled it out and licked you clean ... when you smiled and spread 
your legs and patted your hairy little cunt and tried to coax him 
back again ... do you realty think anyone in their right mind 
would believe you were forced into it?"
     Tears welled in her eyes and ran unchecked down her pale 
cheeks.  He was right.  She had seen the awful spectacle herself.  
No one would believe her, never in a thousand years.
     "And the second reel of film, the one you didn't want to 
watch," Jason continued, "I'm sure it would convince the police of 
your unfortunate perversion if the other one didn't.  You did some 
very, very naughty things to my poor Mario while he was tied up 
and unable to get away from you.  Oh, he struggled and tried to 
turn his innocent body away, but you forced your unnatural 
appetites upon him.  Your unrestrained molesting may have caused 
permanent psychological damage to the lad!  It was shocking, 
shocking!"
     Carolyn's face was streaked with tears and she slowly moved 
her head from side to side.  She couldn't have, she couldn't have 
done anything like that.
     "I can see that you don't believe me.  Perhaps we should run 
the film after all.  Mario?" Jason taunted. "No ... no, please!"
     "Never mind, Mario," Jason purred reassuringly across the 
table, "Don't cry, my dear.  If you stay and work for me as we 
agreed, no one need ever know about the films.  No one at all."
     Carolyn hung her head and stared into her tear-dampened lap.  
This awful man, this canine Jekyll and Hyde had forced her into a 
corner from which there was no escape.  How could she stay here in 
this house of depravity and work for a man whose mind crawled with 
evil?  How was she to know that he wouldn't try to put her through 
another night like that?  Or worse?  perhaps he would force his 
own attentions on her.  Perhaps Mario would get to thinking about 
the things she was forced to do to him and his unstable mind might 
snap.  She would be in constant danger here ... but the 
alternative was prison for blackmail.  She didn't have a choice.
     "What ... what do you expect me to do?" she asked with a 
silent sob in her throat.
     "Why, just exactly what we discussed when you accepted the 
position. I merely want you to help me train these fine young 
animals.  That's all, my dear, just train the dogs."
     "Train them?  To do what, Mr. Benson?  You never did say.  
Exactly what kind of training do the dogs require?" Her voice was 
haughty, cutting.
     Jason lifted the heavy glass decanter from the center of the 
table and poured a generous amount in his glass.  He lifted the 
bottle in her direction.  Carolyn shook her head.  He replaced the 
stopper in the container, leaned back in the big wooden chair and 
sipped at the brandy glass cupped in his lean tan hands.  He 
looked at Carolyn from beneath the gently arched brows, half 
amused, half tolerant.
     "I thought you would surely have figured that out by now, 
Carolyn ..."



Chapter 4

     It was inevitable, Carolyn thought, as she followed Jason 
Benson through the endless passages of the big house.  She knew 
the time would come when she would be forced to take part in the 
monstrous perversion but it had seemed so ... so unbelievable that 
her mind had not really accepted the situation in which she found 
herself.  Not until now!  As they walked down the long hall toward 
the kennels and the "indoctrination tour" as Jason put it, 
Carolyn's mind finally had to face facts.
     The door which opened off the Royal Benson Kennel's office 
was locked.  Jason pressed a button beneath the counter top and 
the door slid open with a soft whir.  He gestured for Carolyn to 
enter, followed her through and pressed another button.  The door 
whirred shut with smooth efficiency.
     Before them lay a wide carpeted aisleway flanked on both 
sides by identical cages of chain link wire, joined one to the 
other like the row upon row of exclusive center city apartments 
which thrived in downtown New York City.  Each cage was exactly 
like the next, a large chrome feeding dish, an automatic fresh 
water bowl and a rectangular mattress pad covered in royal blue 
canvas.  Each cage was occupied.
     Carolyn self-consciously shied from the cages, only to bump 
into a similar row of dogs on the other side of the aisle.  She 
jumped forward, careful to stand in the exact center of the 
walkway.  Her hands were trembling.
     "No, no, my dear," Jason explained impatiently.  "You don't 
understand.  These are the show dogs, the famous Royal Benson 
Danes. Animals like these aren't used as toys for the rich, my 
dear girl, not champion stock like this.  It's taken years to 
perfect such fine dogs."
     He walked briskly over to the first cage and pointed to the 
pair of matched frames which hung one above the other on the cage 
front.
     "Look," he said enthusiastically, "Look at these pedigrees."
     Carolyn moved closer at his insistence, and read the small 
print on the forms.  Royal Benson's King Lear, sired by Royal 
Benson's Black Emperor, sired by Royal Benson's Demon, etc, etc.  
The ornately printed pedigree went back five generations and each 
dog bore the kennel title of Benson.  She didn't know much about 
Dane conformation but she knew enough about registered animals to 
know that an unbroken pedigree line free from inbreeding was an 
accomplishment to be proud of.
     "And here," he continued, pointing to the second frame, "here 
is a list of every win the dog has made."
     He ran his finger down a long list of titles, pausing here 
and there to emphasize the enormity of the win.
     "Best Champion of Show ... Best Grand Champion of Show.  And 
here, Best of Show!  Do you realize how difficult it is to win a 
Best of Show out of hundreds of dogs from all over the country?" 
He asked Carolyn, not pausing for her answer, "All of my boys end 
up there sooner or later. What do you think of that?"
     "It's very ... impressive."  Carolyn tried to say something 
to salve his ego but she was still in the cold numb state of near 
shock.
     Jason walked through the cages, calling each great dog by 
name, scratching them through the wire, praising them in turn as 
one would children.  Carolyn watched him blankly.  She had cried 
away all her tears of horror, the tears of fear ... weeped herself 
dry of revulsion ... there was almost nothing left.  She walked 
and talked and tried not to think. There was nothing she could do 
for the present except as she was told. Jason had made that quite 
clear when he showed her the movie film of ... she shuddered even 
at the thought ... of that terrible dog at her loins. He had 
locked her in her room overlooking the dog runs, a prisoner of the 
damnable electric locks, and let her absorb the awful truth.  Once 
she accepted the inevitable, he had said, it would be easier.  And 
perhaps it was.  She wasn't sure.  She no longer trembled at every 
sound in the hall, no longer felt nauseous when a dog barked in 
the runs beneath her window. Perhaps he was right, now that she 
had accepted the inevitable, the days had been easier.
      ... if only she could rid her dreams of the endless hordes 
of slavering dogs with giant cocks which hung stiff and heavy 
headed beneath their stomachs, dogs which followed her everywhere 
sniffling at her wet slit and licking their eager organs.  One 
night in her dreams they would attack her, this army of rutting 
animals that crowded her dreams, and then she would surely go mad 
... if she wasn't already ...
     Jason gestured toward the door at the end of the blue 
carpeted walkway.  "This way, my dear."
     Carolyn walked slowly between the cages, taking care not to 
touch the wire sides.  She had succeeded in controlling her 
revulsion thus far but the touch of one of those great beasts, the 
hot wet tongue upon her hand might be enough to loose the panic 
she felt inside.
     The door beyond Jason bore no handle, no means of access.  
Carolyn looked about for the electric button but the wall was 
clean.  She looked back at the door.  There was a small neat 
plastic sign.  "Hospital Area‹No Admittance."  She waited for 
Jason to open the door, and then she suddenly realized that "no 
admittance" meant that behind that door ... only a few steps 
beyond ... were the other dogs.  Her eyes grew wide with 
apprehension and she backed away from the door.
     "Yes, my dear, the Hospital Area," Jason smiled at her 
reaction. "Rather appropriate, don't you think?  We like to think 
of our work as a humanitarian service.  You might call it physical 
therapy."
     Lines creased her lovely face but Jason's suddenly clamped 
jaw warned them away, and Carolyn forced her features into 
impersonal repose.  She didn't trust her voice to remain steady.  
She nodded her head curtly, keeping her eyes carefully averted 
from his.
     "Never mind," Jason's voice was tolerant.  "You will learn.  
The others did."
     "The others?" Carolyn's eyes flashed back to his.  It had 
never occurred to her that there had been others before her, 
others who shared her fate.  What had happened to them?  What was 
going to happen to her when she was no longer needed?
     "But of course!' Jason smiled with amusement.  "We have had 
six, perhaps seven other young ladies.  Each of whom, I can assure 
you, learned to enjoy her work with a consuming passion."
     "What ... what happened to them?" She was almost afraid to 
ask.  "Did you ... are they ...?"
     "Of course not!" His voice grew impatient.  "We didn't 
dispose of them.  You watch too many B movies!  I simply meant 
that we had to terminate their employment.  They became, shall we 
say, too enamored of their work.  They were wearing my poor boys 
out and overtraining is just as bad as no training at all.  
Aahhhh, but enough of that.  Come in, come in."
     Jason pressed the palm of his right hand firmly against the 
metal plate of the door.  From somewhere beyond, there came the 
familiar answering whir and the door slid silently open.  Carolyn 
followed him around the elaborate folding screen which sheltered 
the room from view when the door was open.  Whatever she had 
expected to see in her mind's eye, it certainly was not the sight 
which met her eyes.  She stared at the huge laboratory area.  
Everything was neat and sterile in appearance.  She could hear the 
faint hum of the air conditioning unit and the temperature was 
pleasantly cool.  There was a fresh light scent of ozone in the 
air but, she thought with surprise, no doggy odor although nearly 
half the area was taken up with wire cages.  Each cage was 
immaculate, as those in the outer room had been, except that these 
cages bore no pedigrees, no identification other than a small 
neatly lettered sign with each dog's name she could read those 
nearest her ‹ Nero, Baron, Casanova, Brute, simple names with no 
hint of Royal Benson registration.  Yet to Carolyn's untrained 
eyes they were as big and well bred as the show dogs she had just 
admired.
     She stared at the dogs, her emotions part horror and part 
curiosity. Fawn, black, harlequin-spotted animals, alert and 
obviously in the peak of health.  Some were young, gangly legged 
beasts with huge paws and clumsy manners, the canine adolescents.  
Some were huge heavy-chested animals; virile, beautiful, terrible 
... and each one watched her intently.  One immense dog in 
particular, a fawn-colored giant with a black mask, rose from his 
haunches when she entered and had paced impatiently back and forth 
the length of his cage ever since.  Carolyn felt uncomfortable in 
his presence and forced her eyes away from his.  She turned her 
back and left the area of his cage and still she felt those eyes 
following her. She knelt before a separate cage of young puppies, 
letting them tumble over one another and chew on her fingers; 
anything to avert her mind from the pacing dog behind her.
     Jason watched with interest.  The girl seemed to 
subconsciously sense the King's presence yet he was certain she 
did not recognize him after a cursory glance at a roomful of dogs.  
To the novice, one Dane looked pretty much like another.  
Interesting, Jason thought, interesting.
     "Well, my dear," Jason called her attention back to the 
business at hand, "Would you like to see how we train our dogs?"
     Carolyn looked up apprehensively.  Jason smiled, enjoying her 
discomfort.  He crooked a finger at the girl. "Come here."
     She walked slowly over to a tiled top counter where Jason 
Benson waited.  He waited until she stood beside him, then reached 
below the counter into a small refrigerator and removed what 
looked like a baby bottle with a large old fashioned rubber 
nipple.  He held it up for Carolyn to see.
     "This is one of our training aids ... and a very effective 
one too, I might add," he said with the odd secretive smile he 
seemed to wear so frequently when he looked at her.
     Carolyn looked at the bottle.  It seemed like a normal 
feeding bottle, but she felt he expected her to say something.
     "Do you bottle feed all your dogs?  Don't the mothers feed 
them?" she asked.
     "Aaahhhh, but this is more than a bottle, my dear girl.  
Here, let me show you."  Jason unscrewed the rubber cover and held 
it in his hand, nipple up.  "It looks rather like a woman's 
breast, doesn't it?"
     "Yes ..."  Carolyn wondered what he was leading up to.  She 
had an uncomfortable feeling she'd rather not know.
     Jason appeared not to notice her discomfort and screwed the 
rubber top back on the bottle and sat it down.
     "Now," he continued, "I shall get one of the young pups and 
show you how we use the bottle in our training program.  I'm sure 
you'll be very interested since it will be part of your job in the 
future, a very personal part of your job."
     Jason Benson walked to the nearest puppy cage and took out 
one of the small animals.  He sat it on the counter top, faced it 
toward her, and inserted the milk-filled nipple between the pup's 
teeth.  Immediately the hungry dog began to pull at it licking and 
sucking and making small happy animal sounds.  Then suddenly the 
pup let out a whine and began pawing frantically at his mouth.  He 
whimpered pitifully and looked up at them with begging eyes.
     "What's the matter with him?" Carolyn asked, her voice full 
of concern for the baby animal.
     "It won't hurt him."  Jason smiled coldly.  "He just learned 
an important lesson.  You see, my dear, the nipples on these 
bottles have a two-fold purpose ‹ they allow a young dog to 
continue his prolonged abilities to suck, but the nipples also 
have an unpleasant substance encapsulated between the two sections 
of rubber.  If the pup bites the nipple, his teeth will puncture 
the first layer of rubber.  It's a bitter mouthful!  But the 
bitter lesson is the one first learned.  The liquid is composed 
basically of alum, cayenne and saline solution, nontoxic but 
thoroughly distasteful as you can see.  After several such 
experiences, our young friend here will learn to suck on the 
nipple if he wishes the reward ... not bite ... a virtue I'm sure 
you will appreciate as time goes on."
     "You don't mean these dogs are trained to ... to ..."
     "To nurse at a girl's breast?" Jason helped her finish the 
question. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean.  It will be part of 
your job to see that the lesson is learned well!"
     She felt sick at her stomach.  She knew that Jason Benson had 
more in mind than bottle feeding pups.  The puppy on the counter 
top was squirming frantically, trying to free itself of Jason's 
hands and the empty bottle. Carolyn had the feeling that the small 
animal must somehow sense that she would supply its succulence.  A 
shudder ran through her body and she stepped back away from the 
counter.  Jason only smiled and returned the pup to the kennel.
     "There are other benefits of bottle training," he continued, 
"which are even more in demand.  Would you like to see a 
demonstration?"
     Carolyn shook her head from side to side, but Jason ignored 
the movement and flipped the switch on a small wall intercom.  
"Mario?" He queried.
     "In the kitchen, boss," came the soft-voiced reply. "Would 
you come to the lab, please."
     "I'm cutting up meat for the dogs," Mario answered, "Could it 
wait about five minutes?"
     "I'm sure Miss Vance won't mind waiting," Jason chuckled into 
the speaker.  There was an answering chuckle over the static 
background.
     "I'll hurry, boss, wouldn't want to keep the lady waiting 
...."
     Jason flipped the switch down and the static was gone.  He 
turned back to Carolyn.
     "Mario will be down shortly ... meanwhile, I think it's time 
we began your basic training."  Jason gestured toward her dress.  
His voice was sterile toned and clinical.  "Would you remove your 
clothing, please?" Carolyn stared at him, not believing what her 
ears told her was true. Surely this man could not expect her to 
casually disrobe before him?
     Jason busied himself at the counter preparing another nipple-
capped bottle.  He poured in a meager amount of milk, held it up 
to read the measurement, nodded curtly to himself and screwed on 
the plastic cap which held the rubber nipple tight to the bottle.  
Then he turned around.
     "I thought I told you to take your clothes off."  His voice 
was harsh now, the painted-on smile of amusement gone.  His voice 
cut into her hesitation like a steel saber plunged deep in her 
belly.
     "What for?" Carolyn asked weakly, one hand clutching at the 
dress front.
     "Never mind what for!" Jason's eyes narrowed.  His hand 
flashed out and cracked across her cheek, hard. "Ohhhh!"
     "When a dog refuses a command, he is whipped."  Jason pulled 
the long braided whip from the wall and tapped it impatiently into 
his other hand. "I hope it will not be necessary to demonstrate, 
Carolyn."
     "You can't threaten me," she sobbed, rubbing the red marks 
which scored streaks across her pale face.
     "Take off your clothes, Carolyn."  Jason said coldly.
     She cowered in the corner, trapped like one of Jason's 
animals between the counter and the wall while he stood firm on 
spread legs blocking the only escape.  The whip slapped with 
clock-like regularity against his palm.
     "Take off your clothes, Carolyn."  He repeated as he dropped 
the loose end of the long whip and laced it across the floor, 
making it serpentine with soft scraping noises against the waxed 
gray tile. Suddenly he pulled the handle back and flicked the lash 
around her ankle with a jerk.  She fumbled for her balance and 
grabbed at the counter for support.  The whip coiled around her 
ankle like a steel snake, leaving a red brand wherever it touched, 
a brand that ran thick red blood and dripped upon the clean tile.
     "Next time," he said ominously, loosening the whip lash with 
a quick motion of his wrist, "next time ... higher."
     Carolyn bit her lip to keep from crying out.  There was a 
band of fire about her ankle and she could feel the warm drops 
pulsing out and puddling on the floor.  Surely he had known her 
resistance was only token. She knew, more important he knew, she 
had admitted defeat the day she had watched those terrible films.  
Jason took advantage of every opportunity to nurture his cruel 
appetites.  Carolyn refused to cry out with the pain. She refused 
to allow him that pleasure ... and she began to unbutton the blue 
dress.



Chapter 5

     Jason watched her every move.  The whip laces hanging loose 
at his side, his eyes searched each curve as it peeked out of the 
opening front of her dress.  When the last button hung open, she 
shook her shoulders free of the material.  It hung up momentarily 
on the high thrust of her firm young breasts, then slid down over 
her hips to the floor.  Carolyn bent over and picked it up, looked 
about and carefully laid it over the back of a near chair.  Jason 
watched the fat twin breasts swing against her body as she moved.  
Just watching their pendulous action brought twinges to his loins 
and he rubbed the handle of the whip thoughtfully against his 
crotch.
     "Bra and pants too," Jason prompted viciously.
     Carolyn slid her thumbs beneath the panties elastic band and 
slowly, hopelessly, slid them down over the curve of her hips.  
Jason watched the fluffy curls rise over the horizon of the 
sinking panties.  He was tempted ... tempted to strap this girl to 
the dog stanchion and bury his mouth in the damp furry nest 
between her legs.  She was unhooking the bra now, letting the 
heavy globes escape.  Beautiful!  The full firm mounds hung like 
sweet ripe fruit from her chest ... beautiful.  He reached out and 
cupped his hand, weighing the smooth plump goodness in his grip 
and rolling the nipple stem between his thumb and forefinger.  It 
hardened noticeably beneath his educated touch.  She quivered 
under his hand and tried to pull away.  Her face said she was 
frightened and Jason liked that.
     He laid the whip down on the counter and pressed her back up 
against the wall.  One hand squeezed a breast hard, too hard, 
while the other snaked across the pale ivory skin of her flat 
stomach and buried itself in the brown curls between her legs.  
His face was a scarce inch from hers, his mouth hovering over her 
full lips like a vulture descending on a dying animal.  He could 
feel the dampness of the fur-covered lips below, warm and wet 
about his other finger, as the tight-clamped little slit pressed 
back against the wall trying to escape the probing hand, holding 
itself shut to exclude the unwelcome invader.  His lips came 
closer and brushed lightly across hers, his tongue wetting her 
fear-dried flesh, softening them in case she willingly decided to 
...
     It was a temptation ... but the thought of this haughty woman 
cringing beneath his dogs as she watched their dripping jowls and 
their eager organs jutting out ... no he would wait to taste her 
sweetness after the dogs had humbled her, after the dogs had 
humped her pride into the ground and she had begged him for 
relief.  Wasn't this, after all, the best way to handle women?  
Make them beg, make them know they were less than the animals 
which used them?  Let the dogs know their pleasures, let the dogs 
wet the bitch's trough.  When she had known the depths to which 
she could be forced, when she could sink no lower in her own mind, 
then he would allow her the privilege of redeeming herself upon 
his body.  Then ... and only then.

*    *    *

     He pulled his finger from the damp well of her body, took his 
tongue from her tight lips and stood back.  There was disgust in 
his eyes.  She was only another woman.  Why should he give her the 
pleasure of his attentions?  No woman ever cared for him!
     Jason taunted himself often with the fantasies of his 
tormented mind. Until he had found 'the dogs' and made them great, 
no one had known of him!  He had been a lonely and much maligned 
gigolo, the handsome imported husband of a fat, rich and very ugly 
widow.  She had been but the last of many such women who paid for 
his attention with the insurance premiums of hard-working 
husbands.  Paid-for passion, that's what he offered.  The envied 
escort, a charming companion, a sympathetic ear in the night ... 
the night, the dreaded darkness when he paid for the daylight 
luxuries with whispered lies, reluctant hands upon dissipated 
bodies, and the drugs which whipped his rebellious penis into 
shape for the plunge into the soft soggy depths of their ancient 
stinking cunts!  He had been made to feel like dirt, but that was 
over.  Now he was the Master, and the Master he would remain!
     He picked up the whip from the counter and began the endless 
slap- slapping against his leg.  Jason Benson scarcely felt the 
light blows, yet it was whipping his mind into a frenzy.  He knew 
what was happening to him.  He wanted it to happen.  He needed to 
be lashed into excitement ... for the years, the long tedious 
years of servitude to lonely old women had taken its toll.  He 
craved the cry of a woman punished.  He needed complete 
degradation of a woman, absolute domination over her before his 
lethargic penis would react and feel life.  He looked at the bit 
of white cloth on the floor at his feet, the bra which kept those 
beautiful breasts from his sight and he smiled his cold hating 
smile.
     Carolyn shuddered inwardly at the sight of his icy smile.  
Jason sensed her discomfort and wallowed in it.  Perhaps he could 
turn the knife in her guts.
     "It has always been my theory," he began in the clinical tone 
which severed his mind from his acts of debauchery, "that the 
human mind is highly inconsistent in its relationships with 
animals."
     He backed Carolyn into the corner again with slow deliberate 
steps and once more stood spread-legged blocking the only way to 
freedom.  She knew there would be no freedom for her, ever again.  
Even if she were to escape from this mad house she could never 
wash away the terrible memory of what she had done ... or what she 
would yet be forced to do.  She stood naked before this man and 
his whip, staring at the floor, expressionless, trembling with 
tension, numb with fear.
     "Man subdued the boar to savor its flesh," Jason continued, 
stimulated by her submission, intent upon her demise.  "He tamed 
the wild horse for transportation, made him docile and rode him 
for pleasure.  For centuries we've taken sustenance from the cow 
and the goat.  Every school child knows the pleasure of a pet.  
Don't you see, he has used animals for centuries, used them in 
every way except the one function which is most vital!"
     Carolyn didn't see.  She stood bare and bewildered before his 
tirade, her head down, appearing hardly more than a domesticated 
beast of the field herself.
     "Man is so damnably inconsistent!  He's so caught up in his 
own web of golden rules that he cannot see the pleasures for all 
the puny penalties that warp his existence!  Medical science has 
proven beyond doubt that the end-all motivation of mankind is sex.  
SEX!"
     "Hey, you're playing my song," came the flip reply from the 
open doorway.  Mario leaned against the sill, arms folded across 
his chest and let his dark eyes roam Carolyn's naked body.  "Sex 
is my favorite meal."
     Carolyn didn't have to look up to know his lustful eyes were 
devouring her body.  The red flush of embarrassment tinted her 
pale flesh.
     "Now, don't you go blushing for me, baby," Mario teased, 
"There ain't nuthin' I like more than a pretty girl, specially 
when they're bare ass naked and full of all that motivation jazz 
the boss man was talking about."
     Jason looked reprovingly at his young assistant.  That was 
the trouble with youth, he though they hadn't the experience nor