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(If she only knew how friendly.) Vanessa kneeled down, cuddling his ears, he licked her face and they briefly played with each other. “And a good watch dog,” I said. “Sit down and I’ll open my bottle. “Phyllis,” she said, “maybe we’ve had enough. But…well…why not?” I went to my kitchen and opened the wine, pouring it out into glasses and returned to the living room. Vanessa was on the couch and Toby was next to her, tongue out. She petted him, took a glass and we sat and chatted and drank. Toby wouldn’t leave her alone, wanting attention all the while. I went into the kitchen to make some snacks…taking my time…letting Vanessa and Toby get ‘better acquainted.” “Toby!” she exclaimed. “Stop it Toby…you’re a naughty dog.” I lingered in the kitchen letting things in the living room marinate and it was suddenly quiet in my lounge. I knew my dog and what he might be doing to neighbor Vanessa but it was quiet in there and I wondered…hoping…was there an ‘ice-breaker’ happening?. How I ever survived being bathed, fondled and explored by this abuser, I will never know. As a straight married woman who was so busy with my young family and escalating career, I knew nothing of the world of alternative lifestyles. I knew nothing of men dominating women generating intense sexual pleasure for both and a release for the women that unless you have experienced it is beyond words or at least beyond my words. Now I know that wonderful bond. I survived my collaring and my nipple piercing humiliated and in pain, but what came next blew my mind. I even could accept my rape by him and somehow my base-being even enjoyed it, immensely enjoyed it, though at the time he could have pulled out my tongue and I would have denied my pleasure. The most strange and foreign aspect of the collaring which I likened to a marriage was when I walked out of the bathroom ushered by him. There lounging in the family room was the three strangers who had done the physical mutilation to my.
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