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From: "rache" <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Dare (Dog+/F, Consensual, BDSM elements, Piercing) by Rachael Ross
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Date: Thu, 24 Aug 2006 09:10:01 -0400
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Adults only

Story Codes: Dog+/F, Consensual, BDSM elements

Copyright 2006 Rachael Ross all rights reserved
This story begins slowly, as I prefer these days, but picks up speed
quickly enough to suit most readers.

Dare
by Rachael

Chapter 1

I was down on my luck having just broken up with my boyfriend. It
wasn't a big thing, boyfriends aren't all that hard to come by, and
truthfully I was getting tired of all the hassles anyway, but I
didn't have my own place either. Finding my little brown butt on the
sidewalk wasn't too good, especially since I had exactly $18.11 to my
name. I'd just spent a buck eighty-nine on a peach wine cooler, which
was pretty rowdy for me. I even bummed a smoke from some guy, but
choked on the first couple puffs and tossed it.

I'm not much of a troublemaker, not by a long shot. I was just 19
then, barely out of high school and bouncing from job to job while I
tried to figure out what I was doing with my life. It wasn't that I
didn't have dreams, or ambitions, I did. I just didn't know what
they were yet.

My latest job had been dancing in a strip club, which I didn't care
for a whole lot. Sex really wasn't my thing in the first place.
It's okay sometimes, but night after night seeing those guys sitting
around just staring like they wanted to eat me for dessert. Yikes! That
wasn't for me and I'd even turned down a pretty good raise earlier
that day when I'd told the manager I was quitting.

She was a nice woman, full of compliments about my body and even though
she was a lez, I think she meant most of them. I'm 5'2" and about
90 pounds, with little A-cup boobs and narrow, boyish hips. I have long
black hair, thick and wavy like a permanent perm, and my almond eyes
are soft and brown. My ass is nice and round and my legs are great,
everyone likes my legs, but I shaved my pussy so I looked like I was 12
again. Janey, the manager, put me in catholic schoolgirl uniforms, and
stuff like that for my routines. I even went out in a Girl Scout
uniform, selling "Girl Scout Nookie" for 30 bucks a table dance and
50 for a lap dance.

I made a lot of money real fast, for the club and for me. But I'd
spent it, as usual, and now I'd just broke my last twenty. I had no
home, no boyfriend, no job. The sun was going down and I was in Seattle
in April, you just knew it was gonna rain and there wasn't a thing I
could do about it. I wasn't going back to the club, that was for
sure. Nor did I want my old job back at Wendy's, selling hot 'n
juicies to stoned kids in their daddy's car. That job really sucked.

So maybe there really is fate, or destiny, or Buddha or something, I
dunno, but it couldn't have been pure chance when the little
newspaper came fluttering along on the cool breeze. It wrapped itself
around my calf like a hungry rodent and I ripped it away in annoyance,
almost letting it go, but not quite. I caught the words "Help
Wanted" in small type and I set my cooler down, spread the newspaper
over my thighs, and took a look.

It was some weird newspaper, I thought, definitely not the
Post-Intelligencer, because the ads in this paper were looking for
weird stuff. Like Master Seeking Slave, and Baby Girl 4 Daddy, things
like that. I didn't see a whole lot about prior experience, or how
much these people paid, although for some of that stuff it seemed like
it should be quite a bit. Like the guy looking for a woman willing to
be amputated? Come on, I'd need a lot of money before I'd go that
far! And a woman offering to cut off testicles for free? I laughed at
that because what guy in his right mind would ever let a girl cut off
his balls for nothing? I seriously began to wonder if this newspaper
wasn't some sort of joke.

It started raining and I ducked back into the 7-11, looking at the fat
old clerk who gave me a frown. "It's pouring cats and dogs, for
crying out loud." I told the woman, turning my back and shaking the
paper for a second, knowing it would annoy her.  I'd been in that
7-11 a thousand times and she'd never smiled at me once.

Hmmm...Cats and dogs. I found an ad that sounded interesting...

Dog Girl Wanted
SWM seeks Bitch 18-35 for long term live-in service. Height/weight
proportional, clean and disease free a must. No experience necessary.

It wasn't much of an ad, I admit, and calling a girl a bitch right
off the top like that made me a little wary. But I like dogs and I'm
one of those people that just seem to attract them. Even the meanest
dog will stop barking once he sees me, or catches my scent, or
whatever. I don't know why, or how, I just know it's the truth.
Dogs are always following me around and I never really minded it,
although my parents used to complain because I'd never finish my
dinner, wanting to save a little something for my newest four-legged
friend.

There was a phone number and I figured I might as well call, feeling
quite sure whoever the man was, he would be able to explain more over
the phone. Or so I hoped. Of course the clerk wasn't gonna let me use
her phone, that might have made us friends or something, so I had to
ask her for change so I could use the pay phone outside. Luckily it was
a short run through the rain. I wasn't exactly dressed warm in my
t-shirt, short denim skirt, and old pink cowboy boots. In fact it was
getting downright chilly and I wished my boyfriend hadn't been such
an asshole. My ex-boyfriend, I mean, he'd tossed all my stuff off the
fire escape before I even knew we'd broken up. Half the bums on Pike
Street were wearing my clothes now. Half the whores too, probably.

"Yep?" The voice on the other end was deep, but I couldn't tell
how young or old really.

"Uh, hi. I'm calling about the job?" I said nervously, cradling
the phone against my shoulder and pressing the newspaper up against the
glass in the telephone booth, just to make sure I'd dialed right.

"The job?" The man sounded confused.

"Yeah, um, in the uh..." I had to look at the front of the paper.
"...in the FM Gazette. About wanting a dog girl?"

"Ohhh, the Fetish Market, right..." I thought I could hear the guy
nodding. "You're a dog girl?"

"Hmmm..." I wasn't sure how to answer that. I really wanted a
job. "...Well, dogs like me, and I like them!" I giggled nervously.

"How old are you, honey?" He asked, not unreasonably I guess.

"I'm 19, this past March. I had my birthday and..."

"So just turned 19, eh?" The guy cut me off. "And you love dogs?
Big dogs?"

The way he said it sounded kind of funny, but I put that down to my
poor nerves. "Sure, I guess, yeah. The bigger the better, right?"

"Right, yeah. Well, I need a good dog girl, that's a fact. What do
you look like?" He questioned me and I shrugged, even though he
couldn't see it.

"Uh, well, I'm half-Filipina, short and small, sort of thin, but
not anorexic or anything. I used to be a dancer, a uh...well, a
stripper, so I guess I look okay..." My voice sort of trailed off
because I wasn't sure what he wanted to hear.

"Ahhh...just an lbfm, huh?" He chuckled.

"What's that? I didn't catch what you said..." I narrowed my
eyes at the phone wondering what an LBFM was.

"Oh, nothing, a little joke and a bad one too. Okay, so that sounds
good so far. How about you come by and we'll see how well you fit,
eh?" He was laughing again and I wondered if he was okay, or drunk or
something.

"Well, see I just broke up with my boyfriend and um, I'm sort of
stuck and I don't have a lot of money, so..."

"So you couldn't get here even if you knew where here was, is that
it?" He asked in a good-natured sort of way. Maybe he was okay
afterall.

"Yeah." I said, sounding apologetic.

"Well, how about I come get you then. Where are you?"

I told him where I was and he said it would take about an hour since he
lived down by Enumclaw, sort of out in the country a ways. I thought
that sounded kind of nice though, get a break from the city and breathe
some fresh air for a change. I really hoped this guy was okay though,
I'd met a lot of weirdoes in the club and it could be a little scary.
Of course in the club we had Big Mike, the bouncer, and Earl, the DJ,
and they were pretty good at watching after the girls. But standing out
in front of a 7-11 waiting for a strange man to pick me up and take me
to his place? I was definitely asking for trouble, I knew, and I almost
walked away.

But then I remembered that I had nowhere to go.

end Ch.1

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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