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Gentle Readers,

This is the first part of a full leangth novel. The total book will finish at between 110 and 120 thousand words. It's a long story with lots of romance (f/f and f/d). There is a sympathetic male character. I included him so the guys woud have someone to relate to.

Remember, your feedback helps inspire a girl to keep writing.

Enjoy,

SusanMichelle

Buttercup: A Novel

women/dogs - woman/woman - woman/man

There are two scenes on NC sex. They are important to the development of the plot, short, and not intended to be erotic. There is nothing erotic about NC sex, unless its a, "Don't! Stop! Don't! Stop! Please, don't stop!" story. This is not.

CHAPTER I: To Tell All

Butter was sitting at a small mahogany table in the matching straight back chair, made of the same rich tropical hardwood. The design of the chair and table were simple, yet functional and elegant. The manager of the Hotel had told Butter’s friend Allison, when she’d asked, that they were from Sarchi, a village devoted to crafts located in the Central Valley. Her new ibook was open and turned on, upon the hardwood table were before Butter. She’d gotten up, in the middle of the night, leaving her lover asleep. She was planning to tell-all in the only way she could, by writing her story.

The loose fitting light-blue cotton shift Butter wore stopped at her knees. Her smooth tanned legs were bare. Butter wiggled her toes against the wood of the floor, enjoying the texture of the worn tropical hardwood planks. A gentle night breeze flowed through the louvered windows destroying the order she’d created earlier in her mane of brindle hair. A long strand drifted onto her face. Without thinking about it she shook her head from side to side, rearranging the thick strands. She felt her breasts move, and smiled. In the night she couldn’t see the sea, but the sound of the surf breaking on the rocks below the cabana was a constant reminder. The sensation of her breasts moving reminded her of the strangeness of her hair and breasts, and the other strangeness’ within her that the world could not see. She’d accepted, even embraced the strangeness of her odd colored hair and even odder breasts. The things she could see. But the other strangeness always seemed like a brand new miracle when it overtook her.

She smiling, Butter was filled with joy and wonder of finding a friend and lover who took delight in them and was effortlessly able to adjust, without struggle or condensation, to the fact that Butter could not speak, or even make a sound; not even a moan of pleasure when her lover delighted her.

But will her acceptance embrace the other. Will her love wither when she learns what I am, and what I was? Butter feared to know, but knew she could no longer hide. If I loose her now, it will hurt us both less than months from now. When she is forced to face, and deal with what I’ve become.

Remembering their day together day, Butter looked again, lovingly, at the sleeping form on the bed across the small room. I’m so lucky to have met Allison. To have found Allison, she decided. To have found love and acceptance, where I feared isolation and contempt. It’s such a joy. I must remember these days of friendship and love are what is important. If she can’t accept, at least I will have had these weeks. If she rejects me now, maybe someday, she will be able to at least again be my friend. Who knows, I certainly do not. Perhaps her love and tolerance are enough to continue when she knows what I am.

Looking at the sleeping form in the bed tears overflowed Butter’s eyes. Blonde hair cascaded around a lovely young face. Only part of Allison was under the single sheet they used. The breeze was refreshingly cool, but it had been hot all day, all week in fact, and it did not get cold at night. Not in March, not in the tropical rain forests of Costa Rica’s Pacific coast. She looked at the expanse of lean straight flesh lying across the rumpled sheets. One very long and elegant leg was exposed. She could also see a lovely thin arm, ornamented with delicate long fingers that were capped with freshly enameled nails. The nail color was fuchsia. Beyond the arm, mostly under the sheet, was what Butter had decided were the loveliest set of breasts on earth. Firm and well shaped they rose sweetly above Allison’s chest and were capped with the prettiest pink nipples. They’d contrasted strongly with her dark reddish-brown nipples, when they’d lain together, side by side, softly stroking each other’s bodies, an before.

I love her. I’ve never known what love for a person was like. I’ve known kindness and affection, passion, and even lust, but this is something knew. It’s no wonder writers are always telling love stories. At least I know that I shall always remember Allison as my first human love. If she rejects me, I’ll have been in love once. The young woman’s calm returned to her as her realized that having known love, she was lucky; even if this love ended in rejection. And even if she can accept me, it may be best to be apart from her. In another two month it will be my time. I don’t think I want her to see that.

She looked down and saw the same color, Allison’s color, on her own longish fingernails and toes. At dusk, in the fading light, the two young women had painted each other’s nails, as they bathed in the after-glow of the wonderful sex they’d shared. Allison had laughed and giggled and talked.
The brindle haired woman had been totally relaxed, not self-conscience at all about her unusual body, or the fact that she could not speak. Allison talked enough for them both, and she’d been able to respond, when she wanted, with facial expressions, hand gestures, and lots of smiling and grinning. The young blonde had told Butter about her life in Boston, her schooling at MIT in design, her new job in an architect’s office, and the man who’d recently broken her heart and abused her. Butter had frowned, hating the story of the ‘Nick’ guy. Looking at the beautiful young blonde girl, so vibrant with life and promise, Butter couldn’t imagine what could inspire such cruelty.

Butter licked her lips. She could still taste faintly the wonderful flavor of Allison’s sex. Unable to tell Allison in words what she’d come to mean to her, Butter had tried to show the beautiful blonde the depth of her affection. She’d made Allison lie passive, as she, over and over, pleasured the delicate cleft between Allison’s hips with her mouth and tongue.

Allison had cried out, “Yes, Butter! Yes! Oh, Butter, yes!” over and over as the exotic brindle haired mute had used skills that Allison didn’t know existed, to bring the blonde pleasures that she’d never imagined could be a part of sex. Butter smiles remembering, the rain of kisses Allison had covered her face with, then her breasts, as the blonde young woman had trying to explain. As she drifted to sleep her final words captured her thoughts best.

“My Butter, woman of magic hands and mouth, I love you. I had no idea my body had such a potential for pleasure.” Allison had wanted to please Butter then, but had been too tired, she’d apologizing as she drifted into sleep. “Sweetheart, I’m so tired, so tired. I’m sorry too, in the worst way. It will have to wait until the morning.” The blonde had murmured as her eyes softly closed, “In the morning I’ll show you how much I’ve learned, and try to share with you the bliss you’ve given me.”

Butter was warmed at the memory of those wonderful words. Allison had meant them, and the brindle haired young woman had already learned that her blonde friend had a talent for pleasuring her. At least we’ll have the morning. She’ll wake beside me and be better than her word. Then I’ll have at least one more chance to show her my love. One last time perhaps, before she reads the truth of who I am.

Chapter II: Vacation

Looking back to the laptop on the desk before her, Butter remembered when they’d met; at San Jose international Airport three weeks before. Butter had been having trouble communicating with the customs official. Before she knew what was happening, a young blonde stranger was speaking fluent Spanish to the man. In moments the man was passing Butter back her passport sand she was free to go. Pulling out her writing pad she wrote, ‘Thank you,” and passed the pad to the young woman who’d rescued her.

“No need for that, he just didn’t believe the name in the Passport was real. I simply suggested that it was the US Government’s problem, and not his. Of course I flashed a little cleavage at him too. In this part of the world I find it always helps, at least with government officials. I wouldn’t recommend doing it with anyone else, the men here are like hungry sharks.” The stranger had giggled
.
“My name is Allison, Allison Washington. If you’re going into the city we could share a taxi?”

Allison had watched the young woman as she scrawled out another note. The blonde noted that her new friend had the strangest hair color she’d ever seen. The hair was the exact same blend of mixed black, tan, white, and mahogany that they called brindle when it was on a dog; she’s seen it once on a big male Mastiff. Her hair was incredibly thick, too. It fell in a cascade across her shoulders covering the tops of her breasts and reaching the middle of her back. Allison had known lots of women with long hair, but she hadn’t ever imagined that hair could be both so incredibly thick and long at the same time. The hair contrasted strongly the young woman’s deep blue eyes, but went well with the deep golden tan of her fine skin. The sack-like dress she was wearing reveled enough leg and shoulder to convince Allison that her new friend had a nice little figure.

I wonder why she doesn’t show it off a little, the blonde wondered. She’s very pretty; she’d be ravishing with the right makeup.

The mysterious young woman handed her the pad. Allison read it as they walked toward the airports exit. The note read, “They call me Butter, it’s an old joke, from when I was much younger. It is a name my guardians gave me after my parents died. I think that is what was upsetting the official. Thank you again for your help. I am going into the City, at least for today. I have a reservation at the Hotel Europa. I’d like to ride in with you, if you are staying there or nearby.”

Looking up, Allison smiled warmly; her light-pink lipstick glistened as the two left the shade of the airport and emerged into the afternoon’s intense tropical sun.

“I like your name. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s special and somehow it suits you, Butter. I came down on the spur of the moment and don’t have a reservation. But a friend suggested the Europa would be ideal. It’s right in the Center of town, near the opera house, market, and museums. Why don’t I try my luck there.”

Butter smiled and nodded yes, enthusiastically.

The extra time they’d spent in customs had allowed the crowd to thin. The two were in a taxi headed down a palm tree lined highway in minutes. Traffic was light and the road was well paved. But fifteen minutes later, when their cab entered the city, traffic became a nightmare.
“Wow! I’m glade I’m not driving,” Allison commented. Butter shook her head in agreement and the quickly made another note. “I’m glad I’m not driving too,” it said. Their driver seemed to be used to the traffic and in another fifteen minutes pulled up in front of a large colonial style building.

At the hotel Butter handed her confirmation to the pretty young woman handling the desk. “Ah, Senorita Buttercup, such a strange name, no?” When butter only nodded shyly in reply the women realized her mistake. “Ah! I remember, Senorita Buttercup can not speak. It is here in the reservation book. I should have read the note. A thousand pardons. We have a lovely suite for you. It is on the fifth floor with a veranda that overlooks the square.

“Any you Senorita, do you too have a reservation?” The young woman said turning to Allison.
Allison shook her blonde head no, and smiling sweetly asked if there was a room available. Both young women were a little disappointed when the girl at the desk said, “No, Senorita Kennedy, we are booked solid. It is festival and we have been booked for weeks. I’m afraid you will have the difficulty finding a room in San Jose this weekend.”

Allison looked at the ground dejectedly. She’d hope to rest in the city and see the sights before heading back to the airport for a flight to Quepos on the Pacific cost.

Looking at the disappointed look shared by both young women the hotel clerk had an idea, “But Senorita Buttercup’s suite is grand. It is plenty large enough for two, with two grand beds in its bedroom. Perhaps Senorita Buttercup would let you be her guest?”

For a second Butter looked worried, then Allison started to shake her head no, thinking that her new friend wanted her privacy, “You are very kind. Thank you for the suggestion, but I wouldn’t want to impose. Perhaps I should go on. Is there somewhere in the hotel, or nearby, where I can book accommodations and a flight to Quapos? I’m really headed to Manuel Antionio National Park, anyway.”

Allison began to pick up her one light bag and was stopped. Butter had reached out and taken her hand. The strange beauty was smiling pleadingly at her. She shook her head no, and letting go of Allison’s hand quickly scribbled another note.

When Allison read it she smiled. It said, “Please, Allison, stay with me. I’d love to get better acquainted. I didn’t know I had a suite. My employer made the reservation for me. I’m alone here, on my first vacation. Please, say yes!”

Allison smiled and said a quite, “Yes.” The look of relief on butters face convinced her that the offer was sincere. Good, I made the right choice.

“Ah! That is grand. We shall have two lovely Senorita’s with us.” The Girl at the desk rang a bell and a tall young man in a bellhop’s uniform appeared. The desk clerk gave him two sets of keys and he picked up Butter’s two bags and Allison’s one and led them to the elevator. The group remained silent as they rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. When the bellhop showed them into the suite Allison gasped. The sitting room was huge, at least sixteen by twenty feet, and to the side she could see an equally large bedroom with a bath beyond. But what held both girls attention was the wide veranda that stretched in front of the sitting room and the glimpse of the treetops above the busy town square that they could see, beyond the railing.

The bellhop showed them the bedroom, with its two queen sized beds, the adjoining large bath, where the light switches were located and how to open the French doors that lead out onto the terrace. Then he showed them the bar and pointed out the many bottles of liquor and juice, the small refrigerator with its ice dispenser. He gave the room service menu and pointed out the kitchen hours; 6:00 AM to 12:00 PM daily.

“Senoritas,” his English was slow but perfect, “your reservation includes an open bar. It is paid for, see? The staff will restock it each morning. Also the room service is taken care of. You may order what ever you like.”

The two young women could hardly wait for the young man to leave. Butter tipped him with four, hundred colon bills, and hoped it was enough. The man smiled as he left. Allison and butter nearly rushed out the French doors to the terraces railing. The terrace was twenty feet long, and eight feet deep. It was equipped with a table and chairs, a large umbrella for shade, and two reclining loungers. The loungers were provided with thick cushions, covered in a dazzling white cotton.

Allison commented, “Wow! Those will be great for tanning.” Looking around Allison saw that the recliners couldn’t be seen from any direction. “It’s very private, I could sunbath nude, and no one could see me.”

Butter nodded her head in agreement and continued to gaze through the trees at a crafts market underway in the plaza below. Besides people displaying crafts dozens of blankets spread out along the edge of the square, there was a large platform almost right below them. A Peruvian flute band was performing there. She found the sounds relaxing.

“Wow, Butter?” Allison asked, a broad grin on her face, “You must be rich if you can afford this!”
The mute woman shook her head, no. And wrote another note.

“Allison, I’m not rich, but my employers are. This is there way of saying the want me to come back.”

“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, Butter, this is great. What kind of work do you do.”

Butter scribbled another note and passed it to the young blonde, “I’m sort of a servant. I’ve been with them for ten years working on a single contract. The contract is over, and I must decide if I want to sign on for longer. The work is very unusual and in some ways difficult. I’m sort of on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. This is my first break in ten years.”

Allison looked shocked, “No weekends off and no vacations?”

Butter nodded.

“They must let you sleep?”

Butter wrote another note, and passed it to the blonde. “I get to sleep and rest. But its like I’m on call. If they want me at four in the morning, they wake me up. If they need something that takes all night, I don’t get to sleep.”

“I see, I’m not sure any job is worth putting up with that for.”

Butter quickly wrote another note. “The medical benefits are great, and when I took the contract I was sick. They paid a fortune to get me well. Besides, sometimes whole days go by, even weeks, when I’m completely free to do as I please, as long as I stay on the estate.”

“It all sounds so mysterious. Almost like you’re in a special branch of the military or something?”

Butter shook her head no, and turned back to the view of the square. The young blonde saw tears in her new friend’s eyes, and realized that there were aspects of the job that Butter wanted to keep private. At least while they were still nearly strangers.

Perhaps in a few days, when she knows me, she’ll tell me more.

Allison put her arm around Butter’s shoulders, “I’m sorry, Butter, I guess I was prying. I’ll drop the subject unless you want to talk about it. OK?”

The young woman smiled at Allison. It was a very warm smile.

Allison’s right hand was on Butter’s right shoulder. The brindle haired young woman took the hand with her left and softly squeezed it, smiling again at her friend.

Allison knew that it was OK. She felt the mass of Butter’s soft hair around her arm. It felt like a heavy sheet of cool silk against her skin. Although the individual strands seemed very thick, the hair was surprisingly soft. Like no other hair she’d ever felt. Looking at the narrow shoulders and delicate long neck under the hair Allison was struck, She’s maybe the most feminine woman I’ve ever met. She’s a little shorter than my five-five. Why she can’t be over five three, and in spite of her loose fitting clothes I’m sure she barely weighs a hundred pounds, maybe less.

Allison felt her new friend’s body relax against her. Butter made no attempt to pull away. She continued to hold Allison’s hand softly. The blonde continued to enjoying the feel of her new friends delicate smooth skin and amazing hair.

The blonde leaned closer until the two young women’s hips pressed lightly together. She sensed that there was a narrow waistline lurking within the fabric of the sack-like dress.
She thought to herself. I guess her name is just Buttercup. No wonder the customs guard stopped her. She most have had another name once; she’s such a mystery. But she certainly is sweet. Thinking about the warm hand delicately holding hers Allison’s thoughts went on, She’s very attractive, in an exotic way. I wonder if she’d be OK with a little girl-to-girl romance. I know I’m not ready for a man again. I may never be. But holding her has me feeling all tingly. It would be nice to mix a little romance into this vacation. It might even help me really believe that I’ve put Nick behind me.

Allison remembered her college roommate, Nancy. They two had explored lesbianism together while they explored the male student body at MIT. Allison remembered realizing that she liked their girl-to-girl sex play, much more than she liked what the men she met could do. Having man’s shaft inside her had been nice, when the man knew something about how to use it, at least in some ways. All to often she’d found that those college men were done before her body was even fully aroused. Allison had found that the things Nancy did with her tongue and fingers, often for an hour or more, were the experiences she treasured and that seemed to drain all the tension from her.

The blonde young women remembered the sadness she’d felt when Nancy announced that she was engaged to Jason, the boy she’d been dating for six months, at the end of their junior year. The two had parted good friends, and Allison had been Maid of Honor at Jason and Nancy’s wedding.

After the wedding, Nancy had gently told her that their sex games were over. She was now Jason’s. Allison had cried for days. For weeks she’d sought another young woman on campus who might take Nancy’s place. She’d failed. There had been a series of rejections mixed in with a few one-nighters with girls who didn’t seem to be able to get on the same wavelength with the blonde. Later she’d limited herself to sex with boys, which she sometimes enjoyed, yet she always yearned for and could never recapture the tenderness she’d felt, making love with Nancy.

After years of trying to find it with the right man, she’d finally given up, and settled for a successful extremely good to look at man; a choice that had become a complete disaster.

Looking at the Butter’s soft cheeks and blue eyes made her wonder.

She seems so gentle. I can tell she cares deeply about things, yet also wants to be loved; perhaps as much as I do? How do I approach her? Without scaring her. She seems very comfortable touching me, and being touched. I don’t want to frighten her. Even if she’s not interested is a little lesbian tryst, I don’t want to loose her as a friend.

Allison decided to not press things. First well become better friends. Maybe in a day or two I can walk in on her while she’s showering and join her, offering to wash her back or something. We can wash each other and I can sneak a few innocent caresses. If Butter seems offended, maybe I can make it a joke. If she seems to accept them I can be bold.

Allison looked at Butter’s full pink lips, tiny nose, blue eyes, and thick eyelashes, and delicately arched brindle eyebrows. God! I wanted to kiss her, but I must wait. Better to wait and maybe get to, than press to soon and never feel her lips on my own. The blonde felt a slight contraction within her abdomen. Her panties were soaked. She looked again at Butter with wonder. Wow! Just touching her and thinking about kissing her gave me a little climax. I want more!

Butter was enjoying the feel of Allison’s arm around her. It was reassuring and seemed to promise friendship and maybe more. Looking at the pretty blond Butter smiled. It might be nice to make love and have it be my idea for a change. Allison seems to have accepted my name easily enough. She can see my hair and seems to like touching it; but could she accept me nude, and in her arms.

I can smell her arousal, but will my difference frighten her, repeal her, or will they maybe excite her? I wonder? No matter what, she’d be getting involved in more than she can imagine.
Butter slipped her left arm around Allison’s waist and hugged the blonde, lightly. Allison smiled at her and thought, Maybe I won’t have to wait!

Allison whispered, “I just know were going to be good friends.” She squeezed Butter’s hand and enjoyed the feel of the other woman’s arm around her waist.

Chapter III: A Friend

The two young women spent the following two-day touring the City, seeing the Gold Museum and enjoying their sunny veranda. Breakfast, on the veranda was wonderful. The cooler morning air, and bright sunlight mixed with fruit and thick black coffee was the perfect way to start the day. As they ate breakfast on the third morning of their stay in San Jose, Allison suggested the sights and activities they might do that day. Butter would agree by smiling, shaking her head yes, and squeezing the young blonde’s hand. Allison’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Butter agreed with all the blonde’s suggestions.

Allison knew she was chattering, but Butter didn’t seem to mind. The young blond was amazed that she didn’t even seem to notice that Butter never spoke. The mute girl’s eyes were always smiling at her. The blonde had come to feel that somehow Butter was talking as much as she was, without ever saying a word. Each moment with the mysterious young woman Allison felt more relaxed and happy. Nick was fading, but slowly. She reached out and squeezed Butter’s hand, as the memory came flooding back.

He’d wanted her to quite her job and let him keep her. The pretty young blonde might have agreed, except for her fear. Nick liked to tie her up when they made love. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be dependent on Nick. His kinky tastes worried her. She didn’t know how far he‘d go, given the chance.

One night, a week after she’d told him she wanted to keep her job, he’d had a friend over after she was securely tied, nude, and spread-eagled on the bed. Nick had laughed at her protests and then gagged her. Then he invited his friend to play with her breasts while Nick coupled with her. He’d used a cock ring so that he could keep pumping for a long time. He’d let his friend put clamps on her nipples. They’d hurt so much Allison had almost fainted. Later, after Nick had finally come, his friend wanted to do her too. Nick laughed and let him use her breasts.

Allison had cried throughout the experience. She cried from the moment the friend had walked into the room. She was still crying when she felt his seed on her chest.

Later when they removed the gag and untied her, Nick was surprised she was angry. After yelled for a few minutes, Allison had rushed into the bathroom to wash. The men’s seamen, leaking from her, and dripping down her thighs and chest made her feel like dirt, used and cheep. Yet, she knew, Nick would do worse if she stayed. That night, when Nick came home, Allison was gone; along with all her things. She’d left a note breaking off the relationship, and explaining that she never wanted to see him again. She’d left everything that he had any reason to think was his or partly his, except herself. She hoped she wasn’t pregnant. Nick hadn’t used a condom, although he always had in the past.

Nick had called her, at work, every day for weeks. She’d asked him to stop, but he wouldn’t. The frequency of the calls diminished to once or twice a week. This vacation was intended to last long enough to discourage him completely. Allison’s boss was understanding and wanted her back. Allison hoped to set Nick and his kinky sex behind her forever. She knew if he kept calling she might have to move to a new city, just to get away from him.

Allison squeezed Butter’s hand again and was pleased when Butter returned the squeeze. Looking up Allison saw a look of concern in Butter’s clear blue eyes. The blonde laughed.
“Oh, Butter! I’m so happy we met. You know how to chase the blues away.”

The two spent the morning touring the colonial part of the city. Allison used her Nikon to document one 19th Century house after another. At first Butter thought Allison was being silly. Then she remembered that her new friend was an architect. She’s working, butter thought. The brindle haired young woman was very patient the rest of the morning. She used her pad to ask questions and learned a lot from Allison’s explanations of the stylistic elements of the different buildings. The most interesting was a strange two-story school. It was been built entirely of metal. Allison explained that it was a prefabricated building, designed by Eiffel, the same man who’d designed the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

When the returned to their suite, after lunch, Allison announced she wanted to work on her tan. The blonde spread a large fluffy white towel over one of the recliners. Allison carefully looked around, making double sure the part of the veranda where the recliners were placed was private. She couldn’t see any nearby windows that would views that part of veranda. A mile or more away there were some concrete office towers. The blonde mentally shrugged her shoulders, Well, I guess is someone, that far away, wants to get out their binoculars its OK with me.

She lowered the back so she could lie out flat on recliners, and the thick white towel. Sitting on the edge of the recliner she proceeded to strip out of the running shoes, tan shorts, and the white cotton blouse she was wearing.

“Butter, were just girls here, right?” Allison asked as she unclasped her pink lace bra. When Butte smiled, Allison grinned, enjoying the sight of the sensual fullness of Butters lips. She removed the bra and slipped out of the matching pink lace panties. Her pink nipples enjoyed the release from the bra’s confinement and extended in the light breeze. Allison blushed a little, seeing Butter looking at her. But I’m being so silly. I wanted her to look, and she is looking. I hope she likes what she sees. I hoped that Butter’s smile is promising more than kindly friendship.

The blonde knew she was pretty, and her flat stomach and pert breasts had turned more than one other girls head in the past. The young blonde had found that it took almost nothing beyond being young, thin and female to turn men’s heads. Grinning Allison walked out onto the veranda. She was completely nude. She climbed on the recliner, lowering her chest into the soft towel. A few minutes later Butter, wearing a yellow sundress with an empire waist, joined her. The dress was orange with a print with little yellow and pink roses. The hem was well above Butter’s knees. Butters legs were smooth and trim, Allison longed to see more. Butter held up a plastic tube of SPF 30 sunblock and offered it to Allison.

Allison sighed, “Good idea, Butter. Would you be a lamb and apply it. I’m so comfortable and relaxed right now, I don’t want to move. Allison stretched like a cat, inviting, hoping for the feel of Butters soft hands on her skin.

Butter smiled and sat down beside her friend on the recliner. A moment later Allison felt soft hands massaging the cool cream into her shoulders. From time to time the hands would move off Allison’s body, only to return a moment later to bring delight to more of the blonde’s skin. Butter was slow and thorough, as she massaged the cream into Allison’s shoulders and arms. As she worked down Allison’s back she heard the blond breathing harder.

Allison tried to stay calm. She wanted to control her breathing. But the motion of those soft hands across her skin, had her wet before the hands reached the firm pink mounds of her bottom. She sighed with pleasure, as she felt Butters hands moving across her rear. The mute beauty was carefully covering everything. Allison moaned lightly when she felt fingers spreading her cheeks and covering the deep valley with the cream. Butter was feeling exited too. Her own panties were wet by the time her hands lifted from the blonde’s body, their mission accomplished.

Allison rolled over, smiling at Butter and spreading her legs slightly. The blonde triangle at her groin was damp. Allison’s pink nipples were erect. Both young women were felling excited.
“Butter, want to do the front, too?”

Butter smiled broadly. In a moment Allison felt those same delightful hands massaging the cream into her legs and thighs. A mischievous smile on her face, Butter leaned forward and carefully applied the cream to Allison’s face and neck. The blonde almost begged for more as she waited. Next Butter spread the cream across her arms, shoulders and down onto Allison’s breasts. Butter took much longer applying the cream to Allison’s breasts than was needed. She caresses and lightly squeezed the blonde’s pretty mounds to confirm to the nervous blonde that her friend knew she was doing much more than applying sun-block.

When Butter’s hands reached Allison’s narrow waist, the silent young women moved to Allison’s feet and began applying the cream again, working up the blonde’s slender legs. Waiting, with rising anticipation, Allison couldn’t help letting a few soft moans of pleasure escape her lips. When Butter’s hands reached her upper thighs they gently spread them apart, revealing the very moist cleft of the blonde’s sex. Allison held her breath as she watched the smiling mute woman lowered her mouth onto the exposed pink fold below her pubis. A moment later Allison’s view was of Butter’s exotic hair spread out across her own thighs and abdomen, and Butter’s delicate hands holding, then caressing the naked blonde’s hips, as the strange exotic girl began to first lick, and then gently suck at the blonde’s sex.

“Oh! Butter! Oh, that’s so good, sweetheart! Yes! Yes!” Waves of pleasure crashed across Allison’s mind. Her eyes closed and her world filled with the feel of a pair of soft lips tenderly exciting her rigid clitoris, and an expert tongue finding, over and over, just the right place to lick.
Butter ministered to Allison’s sex for over half an hour. Enjoying the pleasure of feeling her new friend shudder in orgasm after orgasm. When she withdrew Allison lay exhausted. For a moment the blonde just looked at Butter, with love in her eyes and the expression of sexually satisfied woman on her face.

“That was the best, Butter. I’ve been with a few men who tried to please me, there were a couple of sweet girls, too. But that was the best. Sitting up Allison wrapped her arms around Butter and pulled her to mouth to her own. Butter answered the kiss with passion and didn’t object when she felt Allison’s tongue probing her. But when Allison’s hands slipped under her dress and started to lift if off, Butter pulled back, a look of panic in her eyes.

“Butter, what’s wrong? It’s my tern now. I let you play with my toys. Now I want to play with yours,” Allison grinned as she began to lift Butter’s dress up again. But the mute young woman pulled back a second time. She stood up, taking Allison by the hand, and lead the puzzled naked blonde indoors to the bedroom and her large bed.

Dropping Allison’s hand she grabbed her pad and scribbled something quickly. Shyly she handed it to the nude blonde.

“Sweet Allison, I’m different. I’m put together differently than other girls. I want you to see, before.”

Allison looked up, feeling curiosity almost equal to the desire she felt to touch her strange new friend. Butter reached behind her and undid the tie at the back of the dress. Then, still looking fearfully at Allison, she lifted it off her and let it settle onto a chair by the bed.

Allison gasped. Her eyes inventoried Butter’s body. She had to concentrate to see the brindle haired girl’s delicate narrow waist, nicely rounded hips, the hairless pink lips of the girl’s pubis, and two large breasts she’d sensed where under the blue dress. But there was more. The blonde’s mouth was open as she gapped at three extra sets of breasts that extended below the two lovelies on Butter’s chest. The strange breasts filled the front of Butter’s torso, dominating the entire space between her collarbone and her pubic bone. They were in ever-closer pairs that extended Butter’s cleavage almost to the beginning of the delicate cleft that tantalized the blonde. The lower three sets of breasts were small. Cute, the blonde decided.

Allison knew she was starring as she tried to absorb what she saw. She looked again, trying to believe. Just below Butter’s full, clearly B-cup breasts, were two more, probably AAA-cup breasts, they rested on the bottom of Butter’s rib cage. Below them, at the top of the strange girl’s abdomen were two breasts framing her navel. These were also small, the same size as those just above them. Located just below the third set of breasts was a fourth set, located where Butters thighs began, and only a few inches above the strange girl’s sex. But there was more, just at the top of Butters sex was a little triangle of brindle. It was downy, but solid.
It looks like more like fur than hair. Allison starred in wondered.

It covered maybe three square inches of the white delicate flesh above Butter’s mound of Venus. In the small space between the triangle of fur and her two lowest breasts, was a tattoo. A single word surrounded by little yellow flowers. Allison realized the word was, Buttercup, and the flowers were little buttercups.

As Allison realized that she was seeing clearly; that Butter did have eight breasts, the blonde also realized it excited her. Looking at the eight breasts she wanted to touch them. The thought of touching them, of nuzzling the lower ones as she made love to Butter’s pubis caused a sudden contraction of Allison’s cervix. The blonde felt moisture dripping onto her inner thighs. The curly wisps of hair around her cleft were dripping her lubricant. Another little orgasm took her by surprise. The blonde began to grin as she continued to look at Butter’s wonderful breasts. This is going to be ten times better than I imagined!

Looking up, Allison saw tears in her friend’s eyes. Knowing what was most important, the blonde crossed to her, and enfolded the strange creature in her arms, covering her lips with her own. Butter’s arms were around Allison’s waist the next moment. She returned the blonde’s kiss with a fierce passion. Allison felt their bodies melding together. It was a strange, but a wonderful sensation to feel Butters eight breasts pressed into her naked flesh. Allison giggled feeling Butter’s eight nipples, extended and hard. The kiss lasted minutes, and both women felt their passion rising. Allison pulled away, and taking Butter’s hand, pulled the bridle haired girl down onto the bed with her. She pressed Butter’s back to the bed and slowly began to caress and fondle each breast, in tern. As eight dark pink nipples became wet with her saliva, the blonde’s kisses became more passionate. When she reached the little triangle of fur she was wild with desire. Butters scent was thick in the air. It was the sweetest most delicate perfume Allison had ever found at a woman’s secret place.

Butter was quivering with desire. Allison paused and giggling. “Oh, Butter, you’re a treasure. Later, you must tell me, write me, of yourself. But for now I must taste you.”

Allison’s tongue then slipped into the wet pink folds of flesh.

It was dark when the two arose from the bed. Now perfectly aware of the sweet wonders of each others’ bodies.

To be continued.

Thank you all for your kind words. It really does encourage me to keep writing.

Here is the next installment.

I should have mentioned before, the zoo sex starts on chapter VI. It escalates after that.

Sorry about the dress color mix up.

When I can figure out how to edit a post, I'll fix it.

Look for the next three chapter about this time next week.

Yours,

SusanMichelle

Buttercup

Chapter IV: The Cabana

Butter smiled as she remembered the days they’d spent swimming and snorkeling of the little tropical beach below their cabana. They were in the little fishing village of Dominico. Butter had worn a slightly oversized tankini, that effectively concealed her three extra sets of breasts, although Allison had complained that it hid Butter’s figure, as well.

Butter remembered the conversation they had started on the beach. Allison talking and Butter nodding, gesturing, and occasionally writing short notes. Allison had asked Butter to come back to Boston with her; to live with her and to be her mate, lover, and friend, always.

The two had hugged and kissed and hugged more. Butter had been filled with pleasure by the offer. She wanted it. But her life was so much more complicated than Allison knew. Butter had put Allison off with a note; asking for more time before either of them made decisions. The Blonde had agreed, but she’d also pouted until Butter handed her another note promising to write her story, so that all Allison’s questions would all be answered before they began planning their future.

The blonde had repeated the phrase Butter had written over and over, ‘planning our future’. It had made the blonde happy.

Butter remembered the guesses that Allison had already made about her strangeness. The blonde’s curiosity was raised and she seemed determined to know the origin of her lover’s strange hair and, and her much stranger extra breasts. I have lived through an experience that is perhaps unique. Butter reflected.

Allison’s first guess, a teasing one, in Butter’s bed the morning after their first night of love, had been predictable.

“Butter, are you an alien?”

The brindle haired girl had laughed, her strange soundless laugh, and shaken her head. The movement had shaken her breasts, all eight, so delightfully that Allison had forgotten all about her curiosity for some time. Eventually they’d decided they must get up, at least to eat, and the questions had begun again, over a very late lunch in the hotel’s dinning room.

“Are you a mutation, Butter? Are you an exotic little mutant girl?” Allison had quietly asked over a cold cucumber soup. Again, Butter had shaken her head, ‘no’.

“You’re sure, I think you’d look darling in one of those exotic X-men supper hero outfits. Tell me, sweet thing, what kind of super power do you have. I know! The milk that comes from your breasts makes the drinker invincible!” Allison had giggles, and Butter had blushed at her friend’s game.

I wonder what an X-man is? Butter had thought.

The next morning, as they flew in an ancient DC-3 to the little coastal town of Diminico, Allison had run her hand over Butter’s thigh and asked, just load enough to be heard over the big plane’s engines, “If you aren’t an alien, and you aren’t a mutant, Butter, you must be a part of an whole race, all of whose women have eight breasts?” Butter had smiled again, it was a soft gentile smile that Allison loved; a smile of reason, of tolerance, and of benevolence.
The brindle haired beauty had pulled her pad out of her purse and wrote for a moment. Grinning she gave the note to Allison. It read, “Yes, and no. All of my kind have eight breasts, and I’m the only one of my kind, at least that I know of.”

Allison had laughed. “A riddle! I haven’t tried to figure out a riddle since grammar school! Oh, but this is such a mystery. Let’s see if I can guess.”

Butter had squeezed Allison’s hand and shaken her head no. She’s written another note and passed it to Allison.

“Please, Allison, don’t try to guess. I want to tell you. But I’ve never told anyone. Please give me a little time.” Looking up after reading the note, Allison saw tears in Butters soft blue eyes. She hugged her friend and promised to wait until Butter was ready.

“Dearest, if that’s never, it’s OK. It’s a teasing mystery, but your happiness is so much more important than satisfying my prying curiosity.” The other passengers had seen the two pretty young American women, holding each other, quietly touching, and caressing each other. The love shared by the two was so clearly in its first and freshest blossom, that no one in the plane had the heart for an unkind thought.

When the two had decided they’d seen enough of the City, Butter had asked Allison to accompany her for the month she was staying on the Pacific coast. The two had gotten out Allison’s map of Coast Rica and found that Dominico was just fifty miles south of Manuel Antonio National Park, Allison had quickly agreed. Of course she would have agreed to go to the South Pole, if that was where Butter was going next.

Butter’s note had explained, “My employers booked me a cabana at the Hotel Punta Dominico. I have it for a whole month, starting tomorrow. It’s one of only five cabanas at the hotel; they said it sites on cliff overlooking the sea, separated from the other four cabanas and from a small restaurant. It’s supposed to be very private. If you can, Allison, please stay there with me; for the whole month if you can. I want us to get to know each other better so much. What we have could be so important. But we don’t really know each other, yet.

“We could hire someone to drive us, for a day to Manuel Antonio, if you really want to go there.”
Allison saw a fearful look in Butter’s eyes and quickly hugged her friend, “Let’s see what the Hotel Dominico, and the surrounding area, have to offer. Manuel Antonio is supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful. Manuel Antonio Beach has been described as the most beautiful beach in the world. But, Butter, as far as I’m concerned it couldn’t be more beautiful than you. I’d trade a thousand beautiful beaches for one extra day with you.”

Butter had hugged Allison and kissed her. One kiss led to more kisses, which led to caresses, that in tern led to the bed. It was later that afternoon that Allison discovered that while all eight of Butters breasts were femininely sensitive, the lowest two, the two that were almost in Butter’s sweet groin, seemed to have the strongest link to the delicate cleft nearby. The blonde discovered that when she focused her attention on Butter’s two lowest breasts she could flood Butter’s sex with her body’s excitement and bring the strange beautiful brindle haired woman to climax after climax.

In the afterglow, as Allison softly licked and sucked on Butter’s eight breasts, each in tern, being careful to not neglect any, she giggled. I’m certainly becoming quite the little breast fetishist. I always thought that men’s obsession with breasts was so infantile. I guess I finally know what it is that’s so fascinating. At least in part, it’s the mystery of such amazing organs to one who doesn’t know what it’s like to have them. I guess it must be more of a mystery for men. At least I know what its like to have two. Butter’s magic is having eight.

The plane ride over the mountains was bumpy, the two young women were surprised, and a little worried, when the plain dropped between the mountains, instead of going over them. The flight was otherwise uneventful. Both young women were nervous when the ancient plain set down in what appeared to be a long vacant lot. As the stepped out the saw that there was a layer of gravel below the layer of short sparse grass that the plan rested on. A car was waiting for them. The other passengers were envious of the luxury, as most had to wait for a bus that would make the circuit of Dominico’s hotels and gust houses.

The young women were a little surprised when they found that their hotel was on a narrow point of land that jutted far out into the sea nearly a miles south of the town. The hotel’s office was in the small restaurant. The only person their, a man with white hair, who was repairing a fishing net. When the two came in he greeted them warmly, and gave them the key to cabana five. He explaining to Allison, who’s excellent Spanish was a great pleasure to his tourist abused ear, that Cabana five was the most secluded of the five accommodations they offered, although it was only 100 meters away.

He helped them with their bags, Butter’s largest bags really. Allison was traveling with only a small knapsack, and Butter carried the smaller of her two bags. As their host guided them through the lush plantings the Allison was struck with the beauty and the tranquility of the place. In the distance she could see the blue ocean through the riot of green vegetation and brightly colored flowers that they moved through. Above them in the foliage they heard parrots chattering, the green birds among the green leaves were invisible to the eye. The sound of the birds was set off by the sound of the surf in the distance.

When the came upon the steps leading to their cabana it was a surprise. Their guide parted some ferns and there it was; hidden and special, a place in the neo-tropical jungle. They went up a half-flight and found themselves on a wide wood decked veranda that looked out over the sea. In the naked branches of a tress, part way down the slop below the deck they could see a flock of small green parrots eating a brownish fruit that the tree seemed to posses in abundance. The cabana’s roof came out covering the entire veranda, creating cool shade over the south-facing veranda. Two hammocks were suspended at its far end and there were two hardwood chairs and a small table. The chairs and tables were mahogany, and the hammocks were made of a woven thick multi-colored cotton threads in bight geometric pattern.

When the entered the cabana they found a single large room with an open raftered ceiling. Its sides were made up of many narrow louvered doors that opened in. Most were open and the two saw that insect screen was stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Beyond they could see a large walk in closet with built in cabinets and another door leading to a bathroom. Setting down Butters bags their guide explained, in Spanish, that the electricity went off at ten in the evening and came back on at eight in the morning.

The restaurant was open when the electricity was on, and their meals and drinks were already paid for. There were no fixed times for meals and they were free to dine when ever it suited them. After a lingering smile, that contained more than a touch of leer, he looked over the two pretty women a last time and left.

Chapter V: The Laptop

After they were alone Allison had slowly walked through the cabana, smiling. She looked through every louvered opening and could see no other cabanas, people, not even the path they followed to find the cabana.

“Well have absolute privacy here.” Without looking at her friend the blonde kept up a monologue as she perused the spaces that were to be there home for the next month. “Goody! We can try seeing what fun we can have playing together in one of those colorful hammocks on the veranda. Just think, think, the sound of the surf, lapping on the beach, me lapping on your cleft, in time with the waves.” It was the fist time that Allison had ever used that word talking to a lover. It made her feel naughty and erotic at the same time. She giggled as she continued to examine the cabana’s interior.

“Butter! This whole place is made out of tropical hardwoods! Even the shower.” Glancing over at her friend, Allison saw that she was unpacking. Sitting on the large bed was a laptop computer.
“A laptop. Wow, Butter, we can talk to each other. I didn’t know you had that. It might not be convenient to haul around with us, but here in the cabana we can use it to talk. No more writing notes.”

Butter looked sheepishly at the floor. Then she wrote another note and passed it to her increasingly curious friend.

“It’s new; another gift from my employers. They wanted me to be able to e-mail them while I’m gone. They’re very eager to know if I’ll be returning to them. They said I could negotiate with them as I thought about things this way. Allison, I’ve never used a computer. I haven’t typed in more than ten years. I wasn’t very good at it then. Could you show me how to use it?”

Allison laughed, “Sure. Butter, you amaze me. I didn’t think there was an American woman in her twenties, that wasn’t addicted to e-mail! They must really want you back! Let’s see what you’ve got under the hood.”

The blonde walked over and picked the computer up. “Butter! This is an Apple ibook! They’re so cool. Do you have anything else? I had an iMac in college and it was a breeze to learn. You only needed information on your inter-net settings.”

Butter pulled out a little notebook and handed it to Allison. The young blonde woman flipped through it quickly.

“It’s all here, Butter. They even gave you dial up numbers for San Jose, and most big cities in the states. You have your own e-mail account. [EMAIL REMOVED - USE THE PRIVATE MESSAGE SYSTEM] Wow! The mystery deepens. I know I said I’d stop asking questions, but all of a sudden I have so many.”
She glanced at the brindle haired girl, and saw her lip was quivering, and tears were in her eyes. Allison knew that her curiosity wasn’t worth Butter’s tears. No! Not one of them!

“Butter, you don’t need to ever tell me anything. But if you decide to trust me, I’m dieing to know!”

“We can’t get you on the inter-net from here, there’s no dial-up number for Dominico.” Looking around she laughed. “And there’s no phone either!

“But, by the time we get back to San Jose you’ll be an expert. Are you stopping at the hotel Europa again? I saw there was a phone jacks set up for computers in your suite.”

Butter nodded yes, and wrote another note. “Allison, I have another week booked in the same suite at the Europa. If you can, and want to, I’d love you to share the suite with me again.”

“Sure, Butter. My boss will let me have as much time as I want. He wants me back, and knew I was going through a rough time, breaking up with Nick. Really the only thing limiting the length of my stay is my budget. So far I haven’t spent much. You’ve been so kind about sharing. I guess it can’t make any difference about the rooms, but are sure it’s OK with your employers that they’re picking up the tab for my food, bar bill, and even my laundry?”

Butter nodded that it was and scribbled another note.

“They’re very rich, and they want me to have a good time. They encouraged me to feel free to take new friends out to dinner, or even to have them stay with me.”

Allison read the note and mentally shrugged her shoulders. She’d brought two thousand dollars with her, mostly in traveler’s checks. If she was careful, she’d figured the money might last a month. But thanks to Butter’s generosity she spent less than a hundred dollars in the first week. If she spent the next four weeks with Butter, as her new friend had asked, she’d still have most of her money. I’ll need to buy her something really nice. Something very special, that shows her how important she is to me. But it’ll be tough. As near as I can tell she isn’t into material possessions, not even clothes. The computer is the first thing I’ve seen that was Butter’s that wasn’t totally utilitarian. Well, maybe art would work. I’ve seen her smiling at some of the paintings we’ve seen; especially those showing the local wildlife.

“Butter, if you’ll share your new toy, I’ll just e-mail my boss my new plans when we get back to the Europa. If you can stay longer when your reservation’s are up we could use my money. Maybe we could stay an extra week or so?”

The mute young woman quickly handed Allison another note. “I can’t stay in Costa Rica more than a few extra days. There’s something I need to get back to the State’s for. It’s one reason it will be difficult to leave my employers.”

“OK, Butter, we can go back when you need to. If you don’t return to your job, maybe you’ll come spend some time with me in Boston. I’ve a nice little apartment in the Back-bay. There’s plenty of room for two, and I’ve got a big bed!”

Butter looked lovingly at Allison and nodded her agreement. Yet the blonde sensed that the exotic girl was worried. She’s not sure that I’ll still want to be with her when we return to San Jose. I guess she is planning to tell me her secret, and she doesn’t know I love her so much it couldn’t matter. Oh, how could she doubt me? How do I let her know how much she means to me?

Allison leaned over and hugged Butter. Holding her tightly she kissing her neck and the area of naked shoulder exposed by the silent girl’s sundress. “Butter, I love you. If you don’t want me, I’ll go. But I love you, and want to be with you every second I can; even if you’re an ax murder in hiding, a dope dealer, or a hooker. What we feel for each other, in bed and out of bed, is special. Whatever secrets you have, you’re the warmest most loving person I’ve ever known. If you’ll have me, I’m your friend forever.”

Butter hugged Allison tighter, and the blonde could tell the strange girl was crying. They hugged for a long time before Butter was calm enough to release Allison from her arms. When she did, she smiled sheepishly and pointed to the laptop.

A moment later the two were sitting on the bed with the computer between them. Allison had shown Butter how to change the dial-up number for each city she might be in. Twenty minutes later Butter was carrying on a very verbal, although written, conversation with Allison. Butter would hunt and peck in a statement or a question, and turn the computer to Allison, who them would type in her reply. The blonde very carefully stayed away from asking any questions about Butter’s mysteries past, satisfying herself with a long discussion centered on making plans for their stay in Dominico.

As they silently chatted, Allison was amazed at the things Butter didn’t know about. The exotic young woman knew next to nothing about fashion, makeup, current events, Hollywood gossip, or even trends in restaurants. She had seen many movies but nothing new. Allison decided that for whatever reason, Butter’s employers must have kept her as a live in servant on the farm. Her new friend seemed to have missed most of the events of the last decade. The blonde decided that Butter hadn’t really been off the estate, farm, or whatever it was in ten years. Her only contact with cinema had been through cable TV, or rented movies.

They don’t seem to have even let her read the newspapers. They treat her well, but make her live like some kind of cloistered nun. She seems healthy, yet she seems to know almost nothing of food. Thinking about it, Allison recollected that Butter always ate things that were very plain: salad with no dressing, fresh fruit, beans and rice, with almost no seasoning, meat without any sauce or even ketchup. Although Allison had made a dent in the well stocked bar in their room, Butter had never had more than one bottle of Imperial Beer, on any day.

The two discovered that they both loved Sandra Bullock, and Tom Hanks. They had both cried at the ending of Turner and Hooch. Allison thought that Butter had almost opened up when they written to each other about their distress at the film’s end when the dog had died. Butter, had become very quite and only after thinking for several minutes had typed, “Such a beautiful male.”

Allison had wanted to laugh and asked, “Tom Hanks, or the dog?” The look of pain on Butter’s face prompted the blonde to change the subject.

The next three weeks were a mix of swimming together and sunning on deserted beaches. They did hire a car and driver to take them to Manuel Antonio for one day. The drive was an ordeal; down narrow graveled roads and across frequent bridges that were barely more than two logs tossed across the many jungle streams they crossed. Once they arrived at the fabled park, they thought that the beaches were very beautiful, but rather crowded. The half mile long crescent must have had fifty people swimming or sunning on the sand when the arrived. Allison felt silly for thinking the almost empty beach was crowded, but compared to having the private beach at Dominico she share with only Butter, it seemed cramped. The two spent a very pleasant day sunning and swimming in the warm waters of the sheltered lagoon the beach open onto. Hiking out of the park, back to the car and driver, thet were thrilled to see Capuchin and Squirrel Monkeys above there heads, and to hear in the growing twilight, the songs of a tribe of Howler Monkeys. That crowds and the difficulty of the bumpy drive had convinced the two of the superiority of the little secluded beaches they’d found around their isolated hotel.

In Dominico, they seemed to always be alone with each other. As the days progressed Allison was finally able to convince Butter that she could safely sun and swim in the nude. The brindle haired woman was terrified of others seeing her breasts. After two weeks of nude sub bathing, Alison’s tan was nearly as deep as Butter’s, and covered every square inch of her skin. It was looking at her friend, nude on the beach, that Allison realized that Butter already had an all-over tan. She must get to nude sunbath a lot on the farm or what ever it is, she decided.

The two sometimes would engage in some mild sex play on the beach. But when things started to really heat up, Butter always sweetly insisted that they return to the security and the comfort of their bed in the cabana. Only once in the first three weeks had Allison managed to really make love with Butter in the sand.

It had been a very hot afternoon. As the light faded and a cool breeze swept in off the sea, Allison had inched slowly over to Butter. Before the bridle haired woman could object, Allison was doing her magic on Butter’s bottom two breasts with her soft mouth, while she expertly used her fingers to caresses the exotic beauty into climax after climax. As Butter had come, for the fifth time, Allison had tasted something odd in her mouth. She’s sucked, just a little bit harder and realized that Butter’s breast was feeding her a rich creamy milk.

Allison giggled, remembering teasing Butter about the milk from her eight breasts imparting super powers to those lucky enough to nurse at Butter’s there. She quickly resumed sucking the milk into her mouth. The blonde decided that she liked the flavor. As she nursed she noted that giving her milk seemed to relax Butter, although the scent of the brindle haired girls arousal was growing delightfully more insistent.

Later Butter had typed her a message, explaining that her breasts had been so stimulated by Allison’s frequent attention that she was lactating. Coyly, the brindle haired girl had typed, “Allison, all my breasts are now lactating. You must either suckle enough to relieve the pressure, or stop sucking on them all together. I must now either wean you or feed you!”

Allison had laughed, and replied on the laptop, “Then you shall nurse me until we must part. I won’t be weaned as long as I can be near you!”

It had seemed natural for the two to converse on the laptop after a week of using it. Although Allison knew that Butter understood every work she said, since Butter could only speak through notes or the computer, Allison almost gave up talking; preferring to respond to Butter’s written comments and questions in kind.

She did add; “I know it must be part of the mystery you hesitate to tell me, Butter. But when you can, please tell me about your children. I want so much to know about them. The fact that you’re able to nurse, after the mild stimulation I’ve ministered to your beautiful breasts, strongly hints at your having a family.”

Tears had filled Butter’s eyes. She typed just a few words, that added to Allison’s wonder, “Allison, my sweet lover, I have sons and daughters. I love them. Yet, I’m permanently separated from them; it is their way. Please don’t ask me about it, not now anyway.”

Allison had cuddled the young woman in her arms until Butter’s tears ceased. Then she had used all her skill to please her lover again. Later Butter insisted on Allison accepting her attentions. She caressed and licked the blonde until Allison’s body was vibrating with pleasure. Like a silver tuning fork whose sweet sound made a perfect cord with Butter’s vibrating spark. Butter didn’t stop until Allison insisted it was time she dine on Butter’s milk. Both girls were lost in the soft afterglow of sexual release and contentment as Allison nursed at each of Butter’s eight breasts.

Chapter VI: The Letter

Butter was thankful for the ibooks’s near silent keyboard as she began to write. Glancing over at Allison’s nude sleeping form she resolved to continue. If she doesn’t know what I am, how can she really know how she feels; if I was merely someone mistress or a mixed up in prostitution, I know she would find a way to hold on to our love. But, she must know the whole truth, or we can have no future. Then she began.

My dearest Allison,

I write this while you sleep. Sitting a few feet away from you.

Butter again stopped to look lovingly at Allison, before her fingers moved back to the keyboard. She was frightened of loosing her newly found love. But to not tell her now may mean that I’ll loose her later. With a mix of fear and determination she returned to her task.

I’m writing my story because I must tell it, and I no longer can speak. You have told me you love me, and I have tried to make you understand that I love you. The life together you have offered me is sweetly tempting. But it would be unfair to you for me accept without your fully understanding what I am.

You have asked to know my story. I love you. Loving you means I must tell you things I fear to disclose. I know that it is possible that even my sweet open minded and accepting Allison may not be able to accept me, once you know who I have been and what I’ve become.

Many will feel that my life must have been a ten-year long nightmare. Yet, some parts of the last ten years have been sweet and filled with pleasure. I’ve experienced pleasures that are beyond human experience and beyond most people’s imagination. There are pleasures I have freely enjoyed, that perhaps you will find unacceptable. Allison, I’m on vacation, my first ever, and I’m wearing clothing for the first time in a decade, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Sitting, feeling the cool breeze coming in off our veranda, I’ll write my story on the new laptop computer the Pembrooks gave me. It is written, just for you, so you can really know who, and what you have loved.

I remember when we watched the parakeets feed in the fruit trees, the ones just below the cabana that we see when we look down at the surf, earlier today. I was struck at how they were paired, mated to each other so strongly that they were never more than a few feet apart. I have share that feeling in the past, and when I look at you, your lean beautiful body asleep a few feet from me, I feel it again. If I were to separate from you I would ache. Yet, we may part soon, and if we do part, we may never be together again; our lives continuing as they were before; our love slowly becoming only a faded memory. If I should loose you I hope that your memory of me will be a pleasant one.

I have a little time, less than three weeks, to decide if I wish to return to my life of the last ten years, or go on to something else. If I return, I must be back at Pembrook Farm by the end of the month, roughly twenty days from now. The Pembrooks would let me take longer, but I can’t afford more time. I know you’ll wonder, ‘Why?’ But that is something you need to know the whole story to understand.

In telling the story I must tell you of others. Including some things that happened between the Pembrooks before I knew them, as well as of my life with them. Their history, and my history with them, is our private business. I choose to share it with you, knowing I can trust you to respect their privacy, as well as my own.

Before telling you my story I ask you to accept my assurances, that the Pembrooks have treated me with respect and kindness. Much more than I expected when I made my bargain with Grace Pembrook. I’m really rather fond of them. Although our relationship is far from normal, it is one in which I’ve come to trust that they will protect me, in some ways cherish me, and never seek to cause me pain. I feel you may think they need a defense for what they have done with me. Please be assured, I hold them accountable only for saving my life. They did that in more ways than one.

To begin, I should go back to the beginning. I seem to have been avoiding that. But that is the point of this letter.

I was born into this world to a poor family that named me Barbara. My family lived in Portland, Oregon. In a poor and rough neighborhood that city calls Lents. My parents were poor and harsh. When I was twelve my father began beating me and as he did he railing at me to not be with boys. He warned me against the evil of sex and of my female body and the sin that female lust had plunged all mankind into.

It was not surprising when it began. I was the youngest. I’d seen him with my older sisters. I felt, it was my turn. My mother seemed to ignore the abuse. Perhaps she was only grateful that she was being left alone. When I was sixteen I ran away. For years he’d threatened or beaten me weekly. I shall remember until the day I die, his screaming and tirades, as he struck me and swore he would kill me if he caught m with a boy. I left with the clothes on my back, and nothing else.

I don’t think they even looked for me. I lived on the streets, pan-handling, stealing, and doing odd jobs. There was a youth shelter I could stay in when it got too cold or wet for sleeping outdoors. Nearby there was a free clinic for homeless teenagers. I came to be known well in both places.

When I was almost eighteen I feel ill. In time the doctors at the clinic diagnosed my condition as kidney failure. The told me, that without a kidney transplant I’d be dead in a year. As a homeless girl, without insurance or even a job, my chances at getting the transplant were zero. With each passing day I felt myself becoming weaker. By my eighteenth birthday I was no longer strong enough to take the occasional day jobs I’d relied on before to allow me to say no to men who wanted to use my body. Shortly after I turned 18, I began saying yes. But a few months later I looked so debilitated that the johns were no longer interested.

Allison, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I promised myself to tell you everything. I’ve slept with many men. The johns were kinder to me than my father. They used my body for their pleasure, but didn’t beat me and they left my mind alone. Once in a while a woman would want me. At those times I always hoped for friendship, but afterwards they often seemed ashamed of what we’d done. Like the men, they left money on the bed, and walked out of my life.

At eighteen, I had no notion of whether I was gay, straight, or bisexual. All I knew was that I was young, slight of build, and attractive to older men and a few middle-aged women. The homeless girls and women I knew avoided contact with me. They were friendly, but they saw me as competition to their own prostitution. I know now that there are other, kinder women, I just never knew any until I met Grace Pembrook.

The free clinic was able to supply me with drugs that slowed the progress of my dieses. But slowing they were not curing it. Some days I saw the medicine as a way to protract the growing torture that life was becoming. Living on only the food that I could beg, I realized I would be die soon. I gave the few possessions I had to those I considered friends. I wrote a long letter to my father, telling him I forgave him. The letter didn’t tell him how to find me or informed him that I was dieing. I didn’t want to see him. Telling him that I would soon be dead seemed pathetically revengeful.

I called my mother, who was drunk at the time, and told her I loved her. She cried, but didn’t ask to see me. I was ready to die. The pain I was in made death a welcome, if terrifying prospect. It seemed a blessing that it would all be over in a few weeks; the doctor had said, maybe two months, if I was lucky.

A week later I went to the clinic for what I thought would be the last time. It took me an hour to walk the mile between the shelter I was in, and the clinic’s door. The doctor I’d been seeing, Doctor Canon, helped me into his office and sat down beside me. I was down to ninety-five pounds. My blondish hair was thinning, and the other kids in the shelter had started calling me the walking corpse. Although I’d told them what was wrong with me, the generally accepted reason for my decline was thought to be AIDS.

Doctor Canon told me I was near the end. I admitted that I knew. Doctor Canon, sitting in his starched white coat, apologized. He was embarrassed to be living in a time when there was a cure, a kidney transplant, but also a time when lack of money meant I would die.
I told him I understood, and thanked him for the extra time he’d bought me with the drugs the clinic dispensed.

Then he surprised me, Doctor Canon asked me if there was a way, a desperate way, through which I might live, if would I would consider it.

Allison, I was afraid to die; afraid of the darkness, the rotting, and most afraid of the never-ending lack of awareness. I said yes, I would eagerly consider anything. Doctor Canon helped me into a nearby examination room, and told me to wait. He suggested that I rest. It would be a while, perhaps hours. There was a cot and chair in the room. I laid down on the cot, and was soon asleep. I noticed, as I got onto the cot that the black arms on the wall-clock read eleven in the morning.

I woke-up sometime later. Doctor Canon was in the room, lightly shaking my shoulder. Looking up I saw two things. The clock now read four in the afternoon, and we weren’t alone. Behind the doctor was a woman. She was middle-aged, still very pretty, with dark chestnut hair. She was slightly plump, but she retained a clearly discernable waistline and nice figure. Her breasts were looked firm and large; riding high on her chest. I remember thinking she might be wearing one of those bras that add shape. But as we talked I realized she was braless. As she talked I could see her breasts bouncing and moving with her body. She was very animated; her hands and head were constantly in motion as she talked. The other girls I knew, working the streets, had taught me enough about the trouble it took to be attractive, for me to appreciate Grace Pembrook’s appearance. Her carefully styled hair, in combination with the expensive blue silk suit she wore, and her perfect pink fingernails, screamed high-maintenance and pampered. I knew she was rich.

It was such a strange conversation I think I should recount it as close to word-for-word as I can. The conversation seems to have been burned into my memory.

Doctor Canon began by introducing me. “Barbara, this is Mrs. Grace Pembrook, she asked to meet you. I’ve already told her a great deal about you.”

Turning to the woman the Doctor continued; “Mrs. Pembrook, I’ll be here for several more hours. Feel free to use this room as long as you need it. I’ll make sure that the two of you are not disturbed.

“Remember, if Barbara accepts your offer, you must act quickly. She hasn’t much time.” Doctor Canon then turned and left, closing the door softly behind him. As he left he glanced at me, there was a strained look on his face, like he wasn’t sure whether he was helping me or not.

“Barbara, I’m sorry that you are sick. I’m hoping that we might help each other. Doctor Canon assured me that you wanted to live enough to seriously consider what may seem a very strange, even perverted proposal.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pembrook. I don’t want to die. Yet, I don’t expect to live for more than a few more weeks. I’ll consider, I’ll do, anything. Whatever you want from me? It can’t be worse than dieing.”

“Some might think so, Barbara. Doctor Canon has also informed me that you have worked as a prostitute.” Seeing the shame in my face Grace hurried on, “It’s only that which makes me think that you might accept my offer. If we make our bargain that life is behind you, and I promise, we’ll both forget your shame. It is true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m not proud of it, but when you’re cold and hungry it doesn’t seem so wrong.”

“No, it isn’t wrong, Barbara. It’s never wrong to choose life. You’ll soon understand how it’s relevant. You see I’m forty-two year old. We, Brian my husband and I, are rich, or at least Brian is. We’ve been together for more than twenty years. During that time he and I have indulge our every whim. When we were younger we freely experimented with everything life has to offer. Beginning before we married and continued after our wedding we have always worked at experiencing the wild side. We tried drugs, dangerous sports, and every sexual abortion and fetish we could imagine or heard about.

“Barbara, we found that we didn’t care much for drugs, and that only a few of the dare devil sports we tried were satisfying. Now we sail and swim. Sex is the area where we found things that truly thrilled us. We tried everything, from threesomes, to [SPAM], to strap ones, to cross-dressing. There were things we liked. Threesomes were great, but we didn’t like the group scene. We both greatly enjoyed having another woman share our bed, but Brian felt neglected, sometimes, when we slept with another man.

“In many ways we built our whole relationship around the bizarre sexual practices we came to love; to what some might call the point of addiction. If we’d had children things might have changed, but after trying for several years I found I was barren. Brian was wonderful, completely supportive, and caring. His response was to rush us both more deeply into what most would call a very perverted sex life. Yet ours is a warm and cheerful home.

“Barbara, it must seem very strange that a stranger is telling you such intimate details of her life. I’m not trying to burden you with my past. But, to decide whether you will accept my offer you will need to know who Brian and I are.

“Unfortunately, I find that I recently seemed to have lost my taste for some of the activities that I introduced into our relationship. Things that have become the heart of Brian’s sexuality are difficult to give up, even though I now find them a chore. I love my husband. I want to stay with him, and I love it when we make love together, the old fashioned way. Yes, we do that too, as well as the more bazaar things.

“What I want you to do, Barbara, is take my place in some things, in activities that I have lost my taste for. In other ways I want you to become a creature that satisfies the deepest carnal desires my husband has. I know them all. We have shared our fantasies with each other and experiences that we thought we might find interesting. I want Brian’s every sexual whim fulfilled. I want him happier than he has ever been. But with my passive, rather than active, participation in activities that I have grown tired of or to old and stiff for. It’s not that these activities are painful, or demeaning; at least not to us.

“I want to use my wealth, to bribe you to take over those activities with my husband that either I no longer wish to do with him, and those he has always longed for that I have never been able to provide.

“Do I shock you, Barbara?”

I shook my head, and asked her to continue. “Mrs. Pembrook,” I assured her, “I’d much rather live as your husbands sex slave, than die.” I was crying as I said the words, for I knew they were true. I was ashamed that they were true, and of the fact that I hoped that she was going to offer me life in exchange for slavery
.
“Well, Barbara, it will be different than you imagine. Probable much better, and still much worse. Let me tell you more, before you give me your decision. If you agree, contracts and other arrangements we’ll be quickly make.

“Brian and I are not into pain. Not ours, and not yours. I don’t think sexual slavery conjures up the image of what we want from you.

“You see, what we loved, and what Brian still aches for is bestiality, to come to the point, sex with dogs. I can see you’re shocked. I quite understand.

“Yet, it is a common fantasy, and, among women, perhaps the most common fantasy that is fully indulged.

“It started with us one lazy morning in bed, back when we were still in our senior year of college, I told Brian that I’d had a long time fantasy about being bread by a really big dog.

“The idea had come to me when I was eighteen. I’d been spending the summer between high school and college on my grandparents farm. One day something strange, different than the other days, was going on in the horse barn. I asked what it was, but embarrassed, my grandmother told me to not ask.

“She only succeeded in increased my curiosity. Weeks before, I’d discovered a way from the horse barn’s loft, into the attic of the adjacent chicken house. I said nothing to my grandmother and discreetly, but as quickly as I could, I made my way through the chicken house and into the barn’s loft. I crept in as quietly. Hiding behind a bale of hay, I peered down. What I saw there was my grandfather and another man. They had my grand parents dog, Angel, a big male mastiff with them. There was also another dog, also a mastiff. Both dogs were on tight leashes. As I watched the men let the two dogs free. The strange mastiff and Angel circled each other.
Watching them, I realized that the other dog was a bitch, and that she must be in heat. I’d seen dogs mating before, in the alleys of the City, and I’d talked about it enough with my girlfriends to understand what was going on. We’d all wondered if someday it was our destiny to go into heat. Some thought it wasn’t something that happened to girls. Some were afraid it might. I and, a few other girls, had been eager for it to occur. That’s until I learned that the extra interest I felt in sex during my fertile period was as close as human’s get to going into heat.

“The bitch presented her rear to Angel who began to lick it. The sight excited me. The dog’s big tongue working across the bitch’s bottom reminded me of how wet and soft that tongue was when he’d licked my face. I confess, that my hand found its way into my pants, and panties as I watched. When Angel mounted the bitch I could see his penis as he found the way into her. Watching and listening, hidden in the hay-loft, and fingering myself in time with their coupling; I felt I was somehow part of their mating. When Angel stopped moving, and then shifted his body off of the bitch, I realized that they were tied. They stayed that way, for nearly a half-hour, and all the time the bitch was making little moaning sounds. They were rear-to-rear, and I could see Angel’s body pulsing. I had my first experience with multiple-orgasms that afternoon, as I watched. When it was over I laid still in the hay, breathing hard, for almost an hour, trying to get my breath back to even. My panties and pants were soaked through with my juices. I felt like I was the bitch that had just been bread. The idea sent a quiver through me that ended as a spasm in my uterus. Not only had I just had my first multiple orgasm, I also had had my first orgasm that came from the image of sex in my mind.

“Later, I managed to get back to my room without being seen. It was one of my chores to do the laundry. I was glade. I knew if my grandmother had seen my soiled panties, she would have at least known that I’d been aroused.

“Ever since that afternoon, my most stimulating fantasy had been to imagine that I was the bitch being bread by Angel.

“When I told him about the fantasy, Brian was quick to admit that the idea excited him. In fact it excited him into an almost instant erection. He insisted that we pretend he was a dog as he took me. We both loved it. After I thought he was spent, he was ready again. This time he insisted that I was a bitch, and that he was a man servicing a bitch in heat. The sex was even better than the first time. After that we often played the game where one of us was a dog. We never tired of it. When Brian was worn out or sleepy, and not interested in sex, all I needed to do to get him hard and eager was describe to him my fantasy of what I thought it would feel like to be bread by a really big dog.”

To be continued.

Gentle Readers,

Here are the next three chapters of Buttercup. This takes the novel to nine chapters and about 25,000 words. I'm currently working on Chapter 41 and the outline will take the novel to about 50 chapters.

I hope you'll enjoy these as much as the first six. For those who are eager for the zoo sex parts to start they, begin in these chapters and then pick upsteam.

Each set of chapters gets a final edit before posting that takes a couple of days. Still, something may have slipped by. Thank you for your patients with the odd mispelling and wrong tense, and conflicting minor details. I try to catch them all, but I always miss a few.

Given I have to fit writing and editing in between my work, taking care of the house, and of course, having as much time as possible to take care of my mastiff, Hector's needs.

Look for three additional chapters early next week.

Your Authores,

SysanMichelle

Buttercup

Chapter VII: Stoner

Allison, Grace’s story had gotten me excited; for the first time in months I felt life in my sex. I wasn’t wet, not near that, but I did feel excited. I had no idea what she wanted from me. I imagined many things. They were all wrong. Grace continued her story before I could ask her any questions.

“Later that year Brian was asked to pet-sit his cousins Golden Retriever over spring break. A big male named Stoner. We were living together, and when Brian brought Stoner home, the first thing he did was to ask me if I’d let Stoner breed me. I laughed thinking he might be joking, but secretly hoped he was serious. I told him that I’d need to think it over. Looking at Stoner I saw that he was clean, looked really cuddly and had a big red bandana tied around his neck. I went over and petted his big wide head and he looked at me with a big grin on his doggy face. He was charming and I dropped to my knees and hugged him around the neck. Stoner responded by wagging his tale and licking my cheek. The feeling of the big dog’s tongue on my cheek was very exciting. It brought back to me, the feeling of Angel’s tongue, and the memory of Angel breeding the bitch. I was tempted to offer Stoner more than my cheek. But I decided I needed to be sure of Brian before I did anything sexual with Stoner. I got up and Stoner barked, still wagging his tail. He wanted to play.

“Brian gave me the dog’s pull-toy, and Stoner and I had a great time for the next twenty minutes trying to pull it away from each other. While we played a realized that Stoner was very strong; much stronger than I was. As the dog and were playing, Brian kept urging me to undress. I’ asked over and over, ‘You’re sure you want me to let Stoner mate with me’. Brian always emphatically replied, ‘yes’. After hours of Brian urging me to try it, I agreed.

“I was eager, but I managed to convince Brian that I was not sure it was a good idea, and made him promise that he would love me as much after, as he did before. He promised, and I was almost sure he meant it. I figured if he wasn’t, at least I’d known if the fantasy was as good, as I’d always felt the reality would be.

“We were totally inexperienced. I’d watched films, and seen pictures of women being done by dogs. But I really knew nothing about how to proceed. The films and pictures had always left out so much. They just sort of focused on the humping. I was sure they used trained dogs too. What to do to get a dog that had never had a woman, to breed her was a mystery. Stoner helped a lot. We decided that it might give the dog the idea if I was nude.

“I undressed, feeling a little strange to be nude, while Brian was still dressed. I feeling my nipples extend in the room’s cool air, and watching the growth of Brian’s tool, in his pants, I realized that my nudity was exciting to me. I’d been getting wetter and wetter all the time Brian had been trying to talk me into it. When I slipped off my pants and panties, the scent instantly attracted Stoner attention. I got down on all fours and presented my bottom to the dog. A moment later, I felt a huge warm tongue caressing my sex. I was wet before I undressed; I was dripping, the minute I felt that tongue run through my cleft.

“I gasped, and nearly collapsed from the pleasure. Glancing up I feared that Brian would know that I wanted the dog to do me, just as much as he’d said he did. But all I saw was his eyes rolling in their sockets, his zipper undone, his Shaft out and hard, as he stroked it with his right hand. We’d made love many times. I knew that look meant that he was deep in the midst of sexual abandon. It surprised me that just the sight of Stoner’s tongue caressing my naked bottom had taken him so far. At that moment I knew that if I went further, Brian was mine forever.

“Stoner’s licking was getting increasingly insistent. I groaned when I felt his velvet tongue slip between the folds of my vulva, and enter my vagina. At that moment, I didn’t care what Brian might think. The sensations that filled me were exquisite. Stoner worked his tongue in and out, lapping up the juice that was collecting between the lips of cleft. I’d never been so wet. I felt my uterus contract, and I cried out as a mini orgasm raced through me.

“A moment later I gasped as Stoner stopped licking me, and nearly jumped onto my back. I almost buckled under his weight. He defiantly out-weighed me my a few pounds. I felt his claws scratching my waist. I didn’t care. A moment later his front legs were locked around my waist, his paws bent down until they were between my thighs, and I felt his hot wet penis stabbing at my bottom. It felt much smaller than I’d hoped, but knowing it was a dog’s, and it was trying to enter me had me turned so far on, that I climaxed. With each of his thrusts his paws were pulling my hips closer to him. He kept missing his target and it still small but I wanted it. It was missing the mark, over and over in the same pattern. It was always too low, although he was spraying his hot pre-come all over my bottom. The feel of his hot meat sliding through my vulva was exquisite, but I wanted him inside. I dropped my chest lower and spread my thighs wider apart. The next thrust slide into me. I moaned, and as I felt the dog’s cock sinking deep into me, I had another orgasm.

“Stoner didn’t feel any better entering me than Brian, or any of the other men I’d slept with, except that his tool and pre come felt hot. But the excitement of living my secret fantasy made it the best sex of my life. I was so lost in my climax that it was moments before I realized that he’d started thrusting. As he worked me, I felt his penis growing. It seemed to get bigger with every thrust, both thicker and longer. I had orgasm after orgasm as I felt each thrust stretching me wider and sinking deeper.

“It wasn’t that the sex was that great. It was the idea of what was happening that was getting me off. For more than three years I’d fantasized about a big dog doing me. It had become the idea that was most exciting to me when I thought of sex. And it was happening! I was imagining every thing Stoner was doing as he breed me, as if I was seeing it a movie. When I felt something really big pressing, trying to push its way into me, I knew it was Stoners knot. I pressed back and tried to relax. When Stoner thrust again, the knot made it in and I screamed. It hurt, but my scream was more lust than pain. Stoner’s thrust became very short then and slowed. With the knot in my he only could push in an inch or two, before his doggy balls were nesting in my pubic hair. But with each thrust the knot got bigger. It was pressing against my G spot and I started a long series of mini-orgasms that came with each thrust. The thrusting continued for a couple of minutes. By then I felt like the knot had grown to the size of basketball within me. Although I’m sure it was no bigger than a softball, maybe smaller.

“The strangest thing came next. I’ve always hated the part of gynecological examine where the doctor presses an instrument through my cervix to get a look at my uterus. Well, I felt the tip of Stoner’s penis press through my cervix and into my womb. It was totally unexpected and wonderful. Then Stoner held still, I felt his hot seed spurting into my uterus, filling it. He climbed off of me and we were almost tied, rear-to-rear. I realized that I was too lose to hold him in, so I reached back and held him within me, wishing I had bitch muscles at the entrance of my sex that would allow me to really be tied to him. His penis was pulsing as more and more of his seed shoot into me. I was lost in a series of orgasms that seemed to be getting stronger each time I felt his hot seamen squirting. Then I felt hands on my head. Brian was in front of me; his hard penis was almost touching my lips. I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it too. I leaned forward a little and sucked the stiff member into my mouth. I licked and sucked it in time with the little explosions Stoner’s cock was having within me. Brian was in heaven. When He started to come and let his cock slip out from between my lips and grabbing it with my right hand; I hosed my face with his cream. I’d never done that before. Brian just loved it. He stayed hard and a minute later he was thrusting into my mouth again. He hardly noticed when Stoner’s cock slipped out of me. I had a giant orgasm again and pushed him away. The feel of the thick strand of hot dog come, dripping out of me and onto my inner thighs was driving me wild. The idea of what had just happed was what excited me; the idea was much more exciting the actual sex. Although, later, I decided that Stoner was a good lay, even compared to Brian. What he lacked in knowledge of how to make a woman happy, he made up for with the foreplay of his tongue.

“Brian, I said. I can feel Stoners come running down the inside of my thighs. Mate me, like this," I told him." Tell me what it feels like to slip your cock into my vagina when it’s overflowing with dog come."

Brian was quick to move behind me. A moment later I felt him his hands on my bottom and then enter me. He felt a little small but I loved the feeling of his member, within me, knowing it was sloshing about in all that dog seed.

“For the rest of spring break we kept at it. Stoner caught on, and three or four times a day he’d come and start licking my crotch. I started wearing loose skirts with no panties, so that I was always ready for him. We also put each of Stoner’s front paws into a pairs of heavy socks when he wanted to breed me. The scratching had been kind of nice while it was happening, but when I saw my back and thighs afterwards, I knew I’d had enough.

“On our last day, I had Brian on his back on the floor. I sucked him hard and then mounted him. Then I called Stoner. The big dog looked confused but started to lick my bottom. A few minutes later he mounted me. I reached back to help him, and guided his shaft to my anus. I’d coated my bottom with vaginal gel, and squirted some inside me earlier. When the cock entered me, it hardly hurt. Of course I’d been having anal sex with Brian for years by then. Brian went wild. He could feel Stoner moving inside me through the membrane that separated my vagina and my colon. I didn’t let Stoner tie with me. But the three of us did come together. Of course I’d been coming for a long time, when Stoner came. Feeling the jets of hot dog come shooting into me, from inside me, set Brian off. Later I cried, all the time Brian was gone taking Stoner back to his cousin.

“When Brian got home he found me crying, still. We talked, and he promised we’d get our own dogs soon. When he said dogs I almost rapped him. I was happy that he hadn’t said just dog. I imagined getting gang banged by dog after dog, as I rode Brian to orgasm after orgasm.

“A year after we graduated, Brian came into his money. His grandparents had left him a huge trust fund, but he’d been on a tight allowance until he was twenty-two. We’d gotten married right after graduation. Now we bought a big farm down the valley and went into business, breading mastiffs.

“Mastiffs?” I asked.

“You don’t know about breeds of dogs, do you Barbara?”

“No, Mrs. Pembrook. Not beyond knowing that there are different breeds.” I was very nervous. It hadn’t been hard to figure out that what she wanted me to do, in exchange for saving my life, was let her dog do me, and then let her husband do me. Probably for years, if not the rest of my life. Between feeling disgust and revulsion, it hit me, I was willing to do even that, fora single month of life.

“Well, it is relevant, Barbara. You may think, after what I’ve told you, that you have some idea what I want, but I assure you that you don’t.

“Mastiffs are one of the oldest breeds of dogs; the go back thousands of years. They are also the largest breed; not the tallest, or longest, but the heaviest. A mature male weighs from 120 to more than 200 pounds. They are very mellow, and easy to get along with, if you are part of the household. They are fiercely protective, and will die to protect their people and their home. I can tell you that they can be very cuddly with someone they love.

“We breed them. We always have a couple of males that are our pets, and usually a bitch. When I say we breed them, I mean one or two litters a year. We’re much to rich, and to picky, to breed them as a way to make a living. We breed them for fun, and because Brian finds the sight of a bitch being breed mesmerizing; I do to, I guess, or at least I did up until a few months ago. Something about menopause has really put a muzzle on my libido.”

Grace Pembrook laughed at her pun.

“We have two males right now, Thor and Ajax; and a bitch, Buttercup. Thor and Ajax are real sweet guys, still in their prime. Unfortunately Buttercup has a heart problem. She’s young, but our vet thinks that having another litter would kill her. In any case, she doesn’t have long. Brian is really upset about Buttercup. She is a Grand Champion with a great pedigree. If we raised dogs for money it would be awful. With her championships and bloodlines we sold her last litter of six puppies for $1,800, each. The money was nice, but loosing Buttercup will be terrible in ways that don't relate to money. We both love her so much.

“She’s one of the few bitches we’ve had that likes Brian to breed her. In fact she comes looking for him, wanting him to do her, even once in a while when she’s not in heat. That makes her very special to him. Brian would never force a bitch, but he always feels down, when one of our bitches rejects his advances. He’ll let them alone, and tries to be satisfied with our games. He’s even left bitches alone that accepted him, if it became clear that they were doing it just to please him, but didn’t take any pleasure from the experience. Enthusiastic cooperation is important to him.

“We have developed a whole network of friends who share our tastes. In fact we find it rather fun sometimes to swap dogs. Never wives or husbands, we tried that years ago and found the sex wasn’t that good, and the after taste was always bad. But we have had parties where the dogs, if they want, can have someone other than there owner. Brian has always felt very frustrated. Most dogs will enjoy breeding anything female they can mount. Women or bitch, it doesn’t seem to mater much to a dog. Most dogs will be happy to mount a man who offers them access. Brian has tried it, but it really isn’t what he wants. What he loves is watching a dog breed a woman, and then either breeding her himself, or having her blow him while the dog does her. Most bitches will only mate when their in heat, and generally they don’t seem to feel excited by what a human has to offer.

“Barbara, does all this interest you, or are you creped out?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Some of what she’d told me had been stimulating. Some of it was stranger than I thought people could get. But the bottom line was I wanted to live. I replied, “It doesn’t creep-me-out, Mrs. Pembrook, but it’s very strange.”

“Call me Grace, Barbara. I think were going to be great friends. When Doctor Canon told me of your need for a transplant, it gave me what may be a great idea. Tell me, with your experience and background, if we was kind and gentile, do you think you could be enthusiastic with Brian?”
I just looked at her. She’d put it on the table, finally. She’d save my life, if I’d be her husband’s bed-mate. I was a little surprised how easily I answered.

After thinking I replied, “Yes, Grace. I think I could be that. I’d at least be thankful to be alive. I’ve never been treated with kindness, and anyone being gentile with me has been rare. The men I’ve been with, they made it clear that my feelings and reactions were not important. I don’t want to talk about it, buy I’ll just say that between the strangeness and the pain, I’ve never climaxed during sex.”

Grace looked at me with horror. “Never?”

I shook my head.

“Barbara, not even with a girl?”

“I’ve never been with a girl, Grace. The other street kids, the girls, they see me as competition. Most of the girls aren’t friendly.”

“You poor dear. But, do you like girls?”

“Sort of, I fantasize about girls when I’m alone. I sort of have lost interest in men, at least as a fantasy. I mean after you have whored yourself to a man, and he’s spilled his seed in you and then left a twenty on the bed on his way out the door you can have no illusions about romance.”

“Barbara, do you ever like what men do?”

“Sometimes, it’s nice when it’s over sometimes, a few have wanted to hold and cuddle me. I liked that. Sometimes I think about one of them taking their time, and really pleasing me, I mean getting me excited and then making sure that I have a good time too. I used to fantasize about coming together.”

Chapter VIII: To Sell Yourself

I felt like a rabbit in the road, caught in oncoming headlights, doomed but not dead yet. If Grace Pembrook’s idea was kinkier than what I’d come up with, I could believe that she wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t rather die.

She looked at me for several minutes. “Barbara, I’ve already told you more than may be wise. If you want me to go, just say so. Before I tell you more, I need you to tell me that you’re seriously interested. I know enough about you now to tell you that I’m very interested in seeing if we can work this out between us.”

She was just talking to me, real friendly. But I started to cry. She just starred at me for several minutes, watching me. I could see she wasn’t sure what my tears meant.
A few minutes later I stopped sobbing enough to speak, “Mrs. Pembrook, I mean, Grace,” I began. “Could I have a few days to think it over?”

She looked at me with sympathy for a minute then shook her head. “Barbara, Doctor Canon doesn’t think you have a few days. The transplant can’t be done if your condition gets much worse. Every day we delay, your chances of surviving the operation decline. I’m afraid that if were to proceed, we need to start today.”

I was angry. This woman had the financial means to save my life. But she’d only do it if agreed to be her and her husband’s sex toy. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had to ask, “Grace, why can’t you help me, without my having to become some kinky kind of sex toy for your husband?”
She looked at me for a long moment. There was softness to the look, but I could tell it was pity, and not sympathy. I’d seen that look too often on the faces of the people I asked for spare change.

“Barbara, I found out about you because Brian and I are the largest financial contributors supporting this clinic. Brian and I donate over a million dollars a year to charity. Most of it goes to programs aimed at homeless youth. Your one of 5,000 young people this clinic has helped in the last year. Barbara, I’m neither without charity or heart. When Doctor Canon called me, with a special request for funds for your transplant, I considered it. Brian and I talked it over. He said no, and the bottom line is, it’s his money. He’s not with me today because he doesn’t want to meet you. But, if spending that money could make his dreams come true, and fill the void in his sex life that my new reluctance has created, he’d spend the money, and much more willingly, oh very willingly.”

I began sobbing again, knowing that there was no choice; not even time to understand what would happen to me.

She sat patiently while I tried to stop crying. She gave me a box of tissues, and slowly I was able to stop. When I was composed I spoke. “Then, Grace, OK, I don’t want to die. I’m very interested in whatever you have to offer. If you can promise it won’t be a life of pain, I’d agree to it, if it just bought me only a few more months.”

She smiled, “I can make that promise, Barbara. There may be some pain, once in a while. But it will never be intentionally inflicted on you. Certainly not much more than you experienced with those men, you’ve let use you. That’s if, in return, you promise to do all that you’re asked.
“Barbara, trust us just a little, and you’ll find that Brian and I will do our best to give you a warm and loving home. Not just a place to sleep, a real home. Doctor Canon said that, if we can do the surgery by the day after tomorrow, he thinks your chances of surviving are better than ninety percent. That’s surviving for twenty years or more. Perhaps much longer, if you’re loved and receive proper medical care. Barbara, I promise that you will be loved as much as you’ll let us, and receive the best health care possible, as long as you’re with us.”

I looked at her, amazed. “I never figured to have that. OK, I’ll trust you Mrs. Pembrook, Grace. What happens now?”

Allison, I know I should have asked more questions. But there didn’t seem to be any point. It was a choice between a few more painful weeks followed by a painful death, and a promise of life.
It had hurt enough, just walking to the clinic that I dreaded the pain that would accompany the walk back to the shelter. When I was there, I knew that I’d need to stay in bed for hours, just to gather the energy to go back out and try and pan-handle money to buy something to eat. The previous week, I’d been attacked and beaten-up once by another kid who wanted the few dollars I’d begged from strangers. I was weaker now. The other kids knew it. I’d be a target the minute I hit the street. I wasn’t sure, but I thought if it happened again it could kill me.

She clasped my hand and smiling, kissed me on the cheek.

“Barbara, if you were feeling up to it, I’d do more than kiss you. But that will have to wait until you’re better. For now, let me help you to my car. The driver will take us to my attorney, all the papers are prepared, after we sign them, and have them notarized, we’ll be going right to the Downtown Heliport, on Everett Street. There will be a helicopter waiting to take us to the airport, our private plain will take us from their to the City near the clinic where the transplant will be done. A car will be waiting for us by the time we arrive. It’s a seven-hour trip. By tonight you’ll be being prepped for the transplant surgery. By this time tomorrow you’ll be being having the surgery. By the following afternoon, you’ll be recovering with a set of new kidneys, and hopefully, your health problems behind you.

I got up, with Mrs. Pembrooks help, and after thanking Doctor Canon, who wished me good luck, she lead me out to her car. It was big new red Mercedes, parked at the curb, just outside the clinic on Southwest 15th Avenue. It was raining, a light drizzle really. I felt like the sky was crying for me.

Five minutes later she was helping me out of the car in front of the Fox Tower, on Park Avenue. The building was brand new. It’s aluminum and green-glass exterior glowed in the warm afternoon sunlight. I’d watched it being built, forty stories high, thinking that I’d never see the inside. I looked pretty rough, but the security guards just stepped back when they saw Mrs. Pembrook. It’s amazing what money can buy.

Her lawyers were on the 35th floor. The elevator ride was so fast I almost lost my balance when we stopped. Mrs. Pembrook held my arm, and kept me steady. It seemed only moments later when we were in a big office with a woman attorney and her clerk. Her name was Jill Lovejoy, and she explained the clerk was a notary.

“You must be Barbara,” the blonde attorney said, extending her hand. She was in her early thirties, and had deep blue eyes, and her hair was cut short, in a pageboy style. She was wearing a gray wool skirt that was part of a business suit. The Jacket was draped across the back of her chair. Her blouse was ivory colored and looked like raw silk. It was sleeveless, revealing thin arms, a thin neck, and attractive shoulders. She filled out the front of the blouse nicely; the v-neck of the blouse revealed a hint of cleavage, although it was modest, almost prudish compared to what the girls I knew were wearing. Most of them were Goths, who delighted in wearing tops that revealed as much of their breasts as possible, without flashing their nipples.

I took her hand and was instantly reminded of how much strength I’d lost. She shook my hand with much greater power than I could return. Yet I knew her grip was softly feminine. Looking at myself in the reflection of the wall of glass behind Ms. Lovejoy, I realized that although she was thin and her shoulders were narrow, I was thinner, and my shoulders were less wide. My arms were much thinner too.

“Barbara, Mrs. Pembrook, please sit down. Would either of you like something to drink, coffee or perhaps tea?”

“Nothing for me Jill, but if you have any, Doctor Canon said the juice would be good for Barbara.”
Ms. Lovejoy made quick phone call, ordering a glass of orange juice. An attractive young woman with short auburn hair wearing a black skirt and pink blouse brought the juice in a moment later, and handed it to me.

“Thank you, Susan.” Jill Lovejoy said softly. As the pretty girl left the attorney turned to me. I was hesitantly sipping the juice. I was frightened, but also I had hope for the first time in months.
“Has Grace explained the details of the offer she is making to you, Barbara?”

“No, Ms. Lovejoy, I only know that she has offered me life, and that in return I’ll be living with her and her husband and having sex with her husband.”

The young Blonde attorney turned to Grace Pembrook, “You were to tell her before you brought her here. I’m uncomfortable enough with my involvement in this, Grace.”

“Jill, I was telling him, when all of a sudden we reached an understanding. I know you didn’t want to have to do this, but I’m paying enough that I think you should. Besides, I want him to hear about the financial arrangements at the same time he is informed of the details of what will happen to him.”

The young blonde looked angry for a moment, then she shrugged her shoulders and turned to me.

“Barbara, Grace may be right. An attorney should be sure you know enough to lawfully consent to what she has planned.

“My clients, Grace and Brian Pembrook want to engage you to work at their home, as their pet. The first part of the compensation is the two new kidneys that you will receive. The kidneys you will receive are not human, it will come from a large dog. The surgeon who will perform the transplant is using a new technique, to allow the successful transplantation of non-human organs to humans. He will introduce into your body a virus that will mutate your cells causing them to accept the transplant. If successful the risk of your bodies rejecting the transplant will be reduced to near zero. The approach has been successful with the inter-species transplants attempted over the last two years. You will be the first human to undergo the procedure. The advantage to you is great. Without this technique you must wait for a donor kidney that is a good match. My understanding is that the waiting list is months long. Time that you don’t have.

“The advantage to Grace and Brian Pembrook is that the virus will also allow other organs to be transplanted at the same time. The surgeon is interested to the doctor because it offers him an opportunity to document a success with a human test subject, as part of his effort to get the FDA to allow human trials. The clinic where the transplant will be done is in South American. There this experimental procedure may be done legally, based on your consent and the surgeon’s license to practice in that country.”

I understood part of what I was being told, part was just so much noise. Ms. Lovejoy continued and soon came to a point that did focus my attention.
“As part of the kidney transplant, they will also transplant a female dog’s sex organs transplanted to you; the same dog donating the kidneys. When they are done, you will be female; capable of bearing young, but not children. Additionally, you must agree to the removal of your vocal cords. You will become a mute, not just for a while, but for the rest of your life.”

I suddenly started to panic, “Why? Why is it important that I be a mute?” I was surprised that the idea of not being able to speak bothered me more not being able to have children; so was Ms. Lovejoy and Grace Pembrook.

Jill Lovejoy held up her hand, “I don’t know why, and I’m not sure I want to. What I understand is that you will be their pet bitch, and pets don’t talk. It’s a very strange, even bizarre demand. Do you think you might agree, if the rest of the offer is attractive enough?

“Although its very strange, Barbara, it may be a choice between being a live mute and dead. The dead are mute too, as well as blind, dumb, and without sensation or thought.

Hesitantly I nodded, “Yes, better a live mute than dead.”

“Good. The rest of what is wanted from you is behavioral, rather than physical change. You will not wear clothing, you will receive a new legal name, which you can change later if you choose to, you will wear a collar, and behave and be treated just like a well loved pedigreed bitch. You will be obedient and willing in doing those activities that are expected of a dog, as well as the sexual activity that you will be told to engage in. You will not leave Pembrook Farm, unless taken of the premises by one of the Pembrooks, for the ten years the initial contract will cover.
”The only difference between your life, an any other pets, is that you may not be sold, without my consent. Pets are property, and you will be treated as such. But you are not legally an animal, even though you may agree to live as one.

“If the Pembrooks think you are not living up to the terms of the contract, and I agree, they may sell you’re your contract with a $10,000 severance package placed in trust for you. Money that you will not receive until the end of the ten years.

“Barbara, the worst thing that could happen to you would be for the Pembrooks to sell your contract. You could find yourself making porno bestiality films, or working in a live sex show, or as an exotic whore in a Mexican Bordello. None of these things can happen to you as long as you keep up your end of the contract.”

Grace Pembrook took my hand reassuringly and added, “Barbara, we think that is best, given you will be living as our pet, that you not leave our farm. But the farm is large. Over twenty-six hundred acres, and it’s next to a large wildlife sanctuary. You’ll have the same run of the place that out other dogs do.”

Chapter IX: The Contract

My head was spinning, I started to stand up, the whole scene was getting really weird. Even if it was the only way to save my life, all of a sudden I really wanted to get out of that office with its dark-wood, light gray carpet and walls of green tinted glass. Ms. Lovejoy stopped me.
“Barbara, that’s only half of what you need to know. Please sit down. You want to know what the Pembrooks will do for you in return, don’t you? I promise, that you really will be glade you stayed and listened to the whole offer.”

I sat back down and nodded my head.

She continued. “First they will pay all cost of the transplant. The treatment and kidney transplant will cost about $225,000. The strangeness of their request may be understood, given such a considerable initial outlay of funds. You will live with them for ten years, entirely at their expense. Food, shelter, and medical attention will be provided. You will sleep indoors, have access to their library and their electronics, such as their big screen television, and although you will be living as a pet, you will be kept warm, and be well fed with a diet that is both good for you, and tasty. Someone else will cook for you. Someone else will clean up after you. Pets don’t do those things for themselves.

“In addition to paying for the transplant the Pembrooks will also pay you a salary of $40,000 the first year. If you keep your end of the agreement the salary will be increased by five percent each of the nine subsequent years of the contract. The funds will be held in trust for you and invested in a balanced fund consisting of stocks and bonds. Conservatively, at the end of the ten years, your account should have a value, after taxes, Social Security, and Medicare in excess of one-half million dollars. The money will, at that point, provide you with at least $35,000 a year for the rest of your life. You will also have worked enough to qualify for Social Security and Medicare. The annual figure should grow, as there will be enough money earned to offset the impact of inflation. A trust will manage the funds for you for five-years following the end of the contract. This is to allow you time to reenter the world and learn to handle your own affaires. At the end of the five-years you can decide whether you want to manage the funds yourself, or allow the trust to continue to manage your money.

Should you wish it, this office will handle the work of legally change your name to what ever you desire, without charge, at that time. Anytime after the contract is complete. So you see, the legal name the Pembrooks give you, need not follow you through life, unless you like it.
“A half-million dollars?” I asked, in shocked disbelief.

“Conservatively, Barbara, it could be much more. Perhaps double that.”

“You see, Barbara,” Grace Pembrook added, “We know we are asking you to trust us, and willingly live as our pet; live as an owned animal for ten years. We picked ten years because Brian and feel it will take that long to get out value out of paying for the transplant. Assuming all that is implies by the understanding that you will willingly live as our dog for a decade, we feel it must be worth your while. We wanted the financial arrangement to be of interest to you, and we wanted to be absolutely sure the law wouldn’t see the contract as unreasonably exploiting you.
“There’s more,” Ms. Lovejoy interjected. “The contract also contains a renewal clause, allowing it to continue for three extensions of five years each. You, Barbara, and the Pembrooks would both have to agree that you want the contract to continue. There is a $100,000 signing bonus each time you extend the contract. The bonus is paid into your trust, $20,000 a year at the start of each of the five years. Your salary would continue increasing at the rate of five percent each year. The eleventh year it would be $65,000, and the fifteenth year $79,000. The salary is intended to be generous compensation and make continuing the contract attractive.

”A final aspect of the five year renewals is that if you sign on for another five years you can change your mind. During the initial ten years of the contract you can’t resign. That’s because the cost of the surgery will have already been paid. The only escape would be if the Pembrooks fail to meet their responsibilities. You can terminate with six months notice. Of course you then forfeit any remaining part of the signing bonus.

“Barbara, what do you think? Do you want to enter into the contract?” Grace Pembrook said.
Ms. Lovejoy, stopped me from answering. “One more thing, Barbara. When we conclude this contract I will be on retainer as your attorney. I’m terminating my association with the Pembrooks, and they have agreed that I should. It will be my responsibility to make sure that they keep all aspects of their agreement with you. I will want you to write me, at least once each month, and let me know how you are doing and whether the Pembrook’s part of the contract is being kept. In addition I will visit you every six months, to confirm what I hear in your letters.
“These were my terms for helping the Pembrooks. You see, you won’t be alone; you’ll have someone who will be your friend, and fight for your interests if the contract is not followed. I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t personally make sure that the Pembrooks keep all aspects of their agreement with you.”

I started to cry again. Both women looked at me with concern. They had no idea why I was crying. Neither did I.

After several minutes I was able to speak. “I’m sorry to make such a fool of myself. You see, no one has ever been interested in being my friend, or looking out for me. Of course I’ll agree. I might even if I wasn’t dying.”

There were lots of papers to sign. Susan, the secretary, came in and notarized each one as it was completed.

The signing took almost an hour. I agreed to the experimental surgery. I agreed to the transplant of a female dog’s reproductive system to my body. I agreed to the removal of my vocal cords. I agreed to live as the Pembrooks dog for ten years. I agreed to let them change my name to anything they liked. I agreed that I would accept and be obedient to all the activities and experienced that could be normally expected from a pet dog. These included the sexual use of my body by my owners. I signed papers until my hand hurt. I agreed to seek no punitive or other damages against the Pembrooks or Ms. Lovejoy, during or after the contract period. The last paper gave Jill Lovejoy my power of attorney, and instructed her to manage my money for moderate growth.

When all the papers were signed Jill Lovejoy gave Grace Pembrok some papers, “These are ‘her’ entry visa and identification papers for your trip to the clinic.

“Barbara, the next time we communicate you will have a new name. I expect to receive your first letter five weeks from now. Grace will ensure that you have pen and paper, stamps, envelopes, and my address.”

She offered me her right hand, I took hers, and she clasped it covering it with her left and giving my hand an affectionate squeeze. “I hope this all terns out for the best. If it wasn’t a matter of your life and death, I’d never have agreed to be part of this.

“Grace, we have a deal. There’s no point in my telling you how kinky I think this is. As of now I’m Barbara’s attorney. Keep all aspects of your bargain with Barbara, or what ever ‘her’ new name will be, and we’ll be fine.

“Barbara, I’m sure that Grace and Brian intend to keep all aspects of their agreement, as long as you hold up your end. What you must always remember, is that anything they tell you to do, that an owner might have their bitch dog do is within their rights. You already understand that this will include, in the Pembrook’s case, sex.”

I was almost in tears. Her warmth and caring were nothing like what I’d learned to expect on the street from an attorney. I thanked her and promised to write, faithfully every month.

Grace Pembrook took my hand and guided me to her waiting Mercedes. Twenty minutes later I was getting into a helicopter. One-half hour later I was getting onto a Lear Jet. My stomach was upset. Grace gave me something she said Doctor Canon, had said I might need. My stomach had giving more and more trouble over the last few months as the number and amount of drugs I was taking had increased. What ever it was, it knocked me out.

The next thing I new Grace was lightly shaking my shoulder. It was the next morning and we were on the ground. As we left the plain the temperature and the humidly told me I was a long way from Portland. There was a mud covered Land Rover waiting for us. Looking around I saw palm trees. Grace talked to the driver in another language. It was Spanish, but the few words that I’d picked up on the street were not enough for me to understand the conversation. We got in the car and were soon on a gravel road going through what must have been a tropical jungle. The bird sounds were amazing. And there were other calls, sounds that I knew must be animal, but that were alien to my experience.

It was a long drive and after the first hour I had time to think. I was not sure what all I’d agreed to. Thinking about the strange conversation, and all the papers with there legalize, I wondered what really was going to happen to me. At that time I