Chapter Nine
Walking the Dog
A familiar piercing whistle echoes throughout our little rented cottage. A shiver of dread runs down my spine. This is followed by the inevitable irrefusible summons.
“Here, boy!”
With another uncontrollable shudder I drop the dishcloth into the sink, where I’ve just finished cleaning up after my wife’s sumptuous three-course breakfast. I had my usual bowls of water and crunchy nuggets pushed into the locked kennel when I woke up. Whimpering with resignation, I hurry to the front door, where Marie is waiting impatiently for me.
Except for her strap-on dildo and a pair of knee-high stiletto-heeled boots (which considerably elevate her already lanky six-foot two-inch height) she’s completely naked. Her small, high breasts are level with my face, and the er
