The small red-head scooted off her partner’s lap with a squelch. She smoothed her skirt down over her colt-like legs, trying to achieve some semblance of decorum. Breathless and barefoot, she was the first to reach Honi. Her hands were small, and her fingernails were manicured cuticle short but matched the exact shade of her expensive evening gown. “Hi, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen!” she gushed as she reached Honi. “My name is Chloe, and I want to do that with a dog too. Can you teach me?” She continued without taking a breath. “Tell me how you started! You look so experienced! I’m ever so envious!”
How did it begin? Mind still reeling a little from that earth-shattering orgasm, Honi thought back several years.
She was a child of very unconventional parents who never seemed to have grown up, and followed one fad after another. For example, her sister, Ariel, had been born at a drive-in movie theater as ‘The Mermaid’ was being shown. Honi often wondered what her name would’ve been if she had been born during an earthquake, or natural disaster, rather than in a meadow on a warm spring morning during a bee keeping festival!
She’d recently completed her residency and two years at a large suburban animal clinic, vying to assist the partners when it came to more serious animal medicine. Or to continue her Master’s thesis on animal reproduction. But she spent most of her working day doing mundane procedures like clipping claws and evading the wandering hands of most of her male co-workers.
She felt like a square peg in a round hole there, and longed for a smaller practice. Maybe a small practice of her own. Of course, her money was short. She still owed the State thousands in student loans.
On a whim, she answered an advert for a Veterinary Locum she discovered while reading a two month old edition of the ‘Veterinary Medicine’ journal. The position was for three to six months at a privately owned and funded veterinary hospital, while the only and elderly Vet – a Dr. Richards – took a sabbatical. She faxed her resume and completed a very personal questionnaire as part of her application to the practice and had received a prompt reply. The interview was short, and its questions were bland, and not very complicated. She was told she could expect an answer soon.
The next morning, practically at dawn, her phone rang. A voice barked, “This is Dr. Richards. How soon can you be here?” She left the same day.
She soon proved to Dr. Richards and the rest of the elderly doctor’s staff, that she had skills and a great rapport with animals. During the week of her trial period, cat’s seldom hissed, dogs almost never snarled or growled, and the pets’ owners sensed her dedication and love of all animals, from goldfish to golden retrievers.
The following Monday, Dr. Richards shook her hand, telling her, “I’ll be back someday. Don’t worry. Enjoy yourself.” He was a man of few words, and most of them were blunt.
After another week, Honi felt at home and confidant. She’d clipped nails and claws, set bones, pulled teeth and even pulled a plastic toy soldier from the intestine of a much beloved and spoiled family puppy. All in all, she knew she was making a difference.
She had just trimmed the claws of a Cockatoo when the phone rang. “Dr. Honi, can you take a call from the Practice’s benefactor?”
Of course she could. When the call was transferred, she smiled into the receiver as she said, “Hi. This is Dr. Honi. How can I help you?”
“Hello Doctor. One of my wife’s dogs is off his food. She’d like you to do a house call.” The man’s voice was pleasant, educated and well modulated. “We’d like to see you as soon as it’s convenient. My wife is incredibly attached to him. Can we send a car for you? It will be quicker than dictating directions.”
Within thirty minutes, an expensive German limousine idled at the front door of the surgery. Honi had packed her bag with items normally needed by a traveling vet. The French accented driver was fast and skillful, and forty five minutes later, the car stopped at imposing double doors of a palatial home overlooking the lake. The driver opened her door for her, and told her that ‘The Hostess’ would meet her inside.
Honi wished she’d worn something more elegant rather than a rumpled white lab coat over a pink tee-shirt and department store jeans. Her no name runners and inexpensive purse left her feeling seriously under dressed.
Sucking in a breath and lifting her chin, she knocked on the door. The door opened, and a well dressed man stood there, welcoming her. Honi’s heart fluttered. She tried to talk, but her mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. She recognized his voice from the phone, earlier. He had dreamy green eyes, and was sandy haired and tall, at least four inches over six feet. His physique was lithe, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His clothes fit him as if they were made for him, definitely not off a department store shelf. He was well groomed, his cologne expensive and sexy, and he would not have looked out of place on the cover of a society magazine.
One hand pressing an iPhone to his ear, he motioned her in, and held his free hand up. “Please excuse me.” His voice was cultured, well modulated but commanding. Honi felt herself obeying. “My broker is on the line. I have to take this, but my wife will be with you shortly.” He elegantly waved at a wooden monk’s bench in the entrance hall. Turning, he strode away, talking on his phone.
Honi finally managed to take a breath, her tongue licking her lips. “Damn!!” she thought. “Why did I choose to look so drab today? God, I’m not even wearing lipstick.” She felt a little mortified.
After about five minutes of silence, Honi perceived brusque breathing and whimpering coming from behind a door across the hallway. She rose, and made her way to the door, which swung open at her touch.
She followed the sounds. The breathing had intensified to terse semi growls but the whimpering sounding almost human. Honi looked at the three doors at the end of the passage. She chose one, but that room was empty, except for oddly constructed wooden benches.
As she pulled the second door ajar, she was shocked to see a large Malamute standing unbridled, with his fore-paws on the back of a young slim dark haired woman. His paws were covered in soft leather moccasins, and his penis slammed into the woman’s vagina, jack-hammering with short quick intense thrusts. Honi stood open mouthed, as the dog’s knot disappeared into the woman’s swollen opening with a soggy sound.
Honi was horrified. “What the hell!! You can’t abuse a dog that way!” she stormed.
The girl below the dog began to tremble and whine, her ass lifting and thrusting backwards . “Good boy, good boy. That’s right. Fuck me, Nanook!” she called out. She seemed totally oblivious to the stunned vet standing and watching, and acted as if the vet hadn’t even spoken.
The gray dog lurched and his hind-end humped softly, until his massive knot swelled past the point of no return! His tail wagging rapidly, while his fore-paws gripped the dark haired woman’s shapely flanks, they were joined! If the woman had been a bitch, not a human, the term would be ‘knotted’. They stopped moving altogether. When a dog knots a bitch, a large ball swells in his penis. The bitch’s vagina clamps down behind the swollen knot, which keeps the seed the dog is pumping into her vagina from leaking out. The woman actually began to pant like a bitch in heat.