I groaned in frustration. Another day being left to my own devices.
It was noon. Keith had brought the food at ten, left without a word. That meant my owner would not come. Like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.
I was bored. True, there were books, DVDs, magazines... but nothing could hold my attention for long.
More than once I had made my way through the trapdoor into the tunnels towards the kennels. But they had been empty. Every fucking time.
I wandered into the kitchen, reached for the coffee machine. No, if I had any more coffee today I wouldn't be able to sleep at all tonight. Not that I had slept well over the last days anyway.
Too cold to go outside, not able to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes... what was left?
I could try the kennels again.
And I did. They were empty. Again.
Just as I was about to turn around and head towards home – the bungalow had become a real home for me now – I looked to the other side. The tunnel led on.
My naked feet made next to no noise on the cold stones as I ventured further. Behind me, between the kennels and my place there had been doors, rooms. The walls here were bare.
Being underground messed with my sense of direction. I assumed that the kennels were under or close to the main house. Mansion would be a better word. It would make sense.
My bungalow was further south, a broad path leading to it above ground. And the tunnel below.
So I was heading north... maybe. Where did it lead? And what purpose did it serve?
After some time I reached the end. Three doors. One to my left, one to my right and one straight ahead. A memory surfaced. Good old days where I had been playing pen and paper role play games with the boys. Explore the dungeon. You reach the end and there are three options... Our group had always turned right... up to the point were our Dungeon Master had to scramble for a few minutes when we had turned left for once and he hadn't had anything prepared.
“Right one it is”, I murmured. Some of the other doors had been locked. I reached for the doorknob on the thick metal door. Would this one be open?
It was. Late afternoon light spilled through the ceiling into the room below. It was an exact copy of the first room I had been in. Glass ceiling, bare apart from the pedestal and the shackles.
Why?
I withdrew. Thoughts raced through my head. He had taken me to the other room, not this one. Same – but different. Why have two of them? Just because? Was one of them older?
I turned to the next door.. This room was also unlocked but dark. Instinctively I felt for a light switch,
Blinding neon light flickered into existence. Tiled floor, a kennel, chains along the wall, a drain in the corner, a hose...
The kennel was small. Two by two meters if even. And not very high. As I stood next to it the top only reached my hip. No dog deserved this. He wouldn't do this to the dogs.
Shackles inside, a metal collar chained to the floor. No, he would never do this to a dog. But a human? A woman? This might be a place for her. The kennel, a bath but no bedroom, no kitchen no books. So I was the lucky one. But was I?
Touching the cold metal bars made me shiver. Being locked up in this room must be hell. Knowing that the man who held you captive was a werewolf. Knowing that his dogs would fuck you – that he would fuck you when he wanted to.
I stumbled on my way out. Would he do this to me at some point? Lock me up, chain me to the walls, only to be taken out when he wanted to use me?
Was this a possibility?
The woman – more like a girl – who had been raped before my eyes on the trip to the resort. She hadn't wanted it. What about the other women? I hadn't looked at any of them there. Not at their faces. But there had been others. There had been talk about a hunt. I had been wearing a collar and cuffs been kept on a lead.
Running now I passed the door to the kennels. The spacious dog kennels with the comfy beds. I didn't stop. Just one short run would bring me back to the trapdoor. Back to safety. I could crawl into bed and convince myself that that hadn't happen. That I hadn't seen these things or even remembered …
But deep down I knew that they would follow me into my dreams
The werewolves surrounded me. Here I was, chained to the floor, down on all fours, legs spread so wide that it nearly hurt. Paws were touching my body, groping, squeezing my tits. I felt fur on my back, a member probing for my cunt. As he entered my unprepared hole I screamed.
They were laughing. It hurt, badly. His panting was next to my ear now, I caught a glimpse of white fur.
Where was my owner? Grey fur, white fur, brown... I didn't see his black fur anywhere.
A brown werewolf slapped his dick in my face, grabbed my hair and forced it in my mouth. I gagged, screams now muffled by his massive cock down my throat. The other one humped me faster, harder. His rasping breath and the laughter of the pack in my ears. I couldn't breathe.
He was chocking me with his enormous cock and didn't even seem to care. While I couldn't pull away or even scream.
With a loud grunt the one who was fucking me buried his dick as deep as he could. The familiar pain of the knotting filled my cunt.
Now he straightened up and howled triumphantly. His hands – paws – grabbed the sides of my face. Claws dug in my flesh as he forced my head up.
My vision became blurry. My lungs burned. Why had the guys always joked that they wanted to die fucking? It was horrible.
Black fur on the other side of the room. I fought against unconsciousness. He was there, my owner, watching. As impassive as he had watched the dogs fucks me.
Once again I tried to fight tasted blood in my throat.
“Noooo”. The scream seemed to echo through my bedroom. I was awake, entangled in the satin sheets, drenched with sweat.
