Being owned – Part 11
The days, weeks went by. Summer turned into autumn. I had never dared to make an attempt to talk to him. Not about my nightmares, not about my fears. But I had gotten my period twice so far, after that disturbing thought, so at least one fear was dwindling. It was colder now, nearly too cold for me to go out at all. I did only short walks, while the sun was high. Missing the time outside with the dogs and with next to nothing to do at all – apart from being fucked by my owner and his dogs – the nightmares had returned. Several nights, after waking up and not being able to go back to sleep, I had spent down in the kennels, snuggled up against the bars and one of the …