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#Rape #Teen #Zoophilia
By HanSolo
Sandy starts a doggy care business, dog walking, home visits and kennel services.
My name is Sandy, and I’m an eighteen-year-old with big dreams for a small business. I live with my parents in a sprawling house in the south of England, where the garden stretches out like a personal little park. It’s nice here, but I’ve always wanted more, something of my own.
One evening, over dinner, I shared my latest idea with my parents. “Mum, Dad, I’ve been thinking. I love dogs, right? What if I started a dog care business? I could use part of the garden for kennels.”
My mum, always supportive yet practical, looked at me with interest. “A dog care business? What would that involve?”
“Dog boarding when people go on holiday, dog walking, and home visits to feed and let dogs out,” I explained eagerly. “I’d need a bit of a loan to get started, though. For a kennel building and a van to transport the dogs safely.”
My dad, who always sees the financial side, nodded thoughtfully. “It could be lucrative, especially around holiday times. But remember, it’s hard work.”
“I’m ready for that,” I assured them, my heart racing with excitement. “I really think I can make this work.”
After some discussion, they agreed. “Alright, Sandy,” my mum said with a smile. “We’ll give you the loan and let you use the back garden. But we’ll need to see a proper business plan.”
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of planning and construction. I had blueprints drawn up for an eight-kennel setup, each with its own run, ensuring the dogs had both space and privacy. The van came next, a sturdy one with a caged back for safety.
Once everything was set up, I launched my dog care center. At first, it was quiet, too quiet. I posted flyers, used social media, and did everything I could to spread the word. Slowly, clients trickled in, and then, like a dam breaking, I was inundated with requests.
“I need someone to walk my labrador, he’s too much for me to handle,” one client, Mrs. Henderson, had said on my first dog-walking day.
“Sure, Mrs. Henderson, I’ll take good care of him,” I replied, feeling the weight of responsibility but also the thrill of entrepreneurship.
The kennels for holidaymakers became a goldmine, requiring little work but providing steady income. My bread and butter, though, were the home visits and dog walks – regular clients like Mr. Jenkins’ beagle, Daisy, who I visited daily.
This particular summer day was unusually hot. I dressed in my uniform – a short-sleeved polo shirt with my logo, and for comfort in the heat, I chose a short skirt, trainer socks, and trainers, opting for no underwear as I often did when the weather was blistering.
After a quick breakfast, I headed out to the kennels. “Good morning, everyone!” I greeted the dogs. Each one had a personality – from Max, the silent observer, to Bella, who always jumped for joy. I fed and watered them, promising, “I’ll be back for your playtime later, guys.”
Then, it was off in my van for the morning dog walks. The sun was relentless, but the dogs loved it, tongues lolling out in happiness. After walking, I started the home visits. Each house had its own little quirks and dogs with different needs.
One of my last stops was at Harry’s house, an energetic golden retriever with more enthusiasm than sense.
“Alright, Harry, let’s get you sorted,” I said as I let him out into the garden.
But today, Harry was in a particularly playful mood. He charged at me, and before I knew it, I was on the kitchen floor, laughing despite the shock. “Harry, you silly boy!” I scolded him playfully.
I tried to get up, turning onto my hands and knees when I felt the breeze under my skirt, a reminder of my choice of attire. “Honestly, Harry, you need to learn some manners,” I chuckled.
I was on my hands and knees, the cool tiles pressing against my skin as I felt the breeze under my skirt, chuckling, “Honestly, Harry, you need to learn some manners,” when suddenly, I felt a weight on my back. Harry, in all his exuberant energy, had jumped up, his paws wrapping around my waist, his claws slightly digging into my flesh. My heart skipped a beat as I tried to wriggle free, but he was heavy, his grip firm.
“Harry, no, get off!” I yelped, panic rising as I felt him adjust his position. My mind raced – Oh shit, what’s happening? – but before I could do anything, I felt him, his hot breath on my neck, and then a sensation so unexpected, so primal, that I froze.
He entered me, and I gasped, the shock mingling with an instinctual fear. “Harry, stop!” I tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper, my body stiffening under his weight. I felt his cock, hard and hot, the pointed tip finding its way, the precum providing an unwanted, yet slick, lube as he began to thrust. Every movement sent a shiver through me, the sensation of his member pushing deeper, stretching my pussy in a way I’d never felt before, both terrifying and electric.
My mind was a whirlwind of panic and confusion, but beneath it, a darker, forbidden thrill was stirring. This can’t be happening. Not like this. Not with a dog. But the reality was undeniable as I felt him, his movements relentless, his body doing what came naturally to him. The fullness was overwhelming, an invasion that was both wrong and weirdly intimate, his cock hammering into me, each thrust sending ripples of sensation through my body.
I was petrified, unable to move at first, but as the initial shock subsided, I found my limbs responding, albeit weakly. But by then, something was changing within me – a flush of warmth, a tightening in my core. I was ashamed, mortified by these reactions, yet my body was igniting in a way I’d never known. “No, no, no,” I muttered, trying to convince myself this was wrong, but my body seemed to betray me, my pussy clenching around his cock, arousal mixing with fear, feeling every ridge and vein as he thrust.
He was fast, his movements almost mechanical, and I felt the buildup, intense and undeniable. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body responding in ways I couldn’t control. I should stop this, but what if he bites? I rationalized, though deep down, I knew I was lying to myself. Maybe part of me was curious, or perhaps it was just easier to let this bizarre moment play out. My heart pounded, not just from fear but from an adrenaline rush, a twisted pleasure I couldn’t comprehend, feeling his cock plunging deep inside me.
Harry’s pace quickened, and I felt him swell within me, his knot pressing against my entrance, stretching it wider. My mind was torn between stopping this and the odd, unwelcome pleasure coursing through me. I’m fucking losing it, I thought, my cheeks burning with shame and something else… a dark excitement. My body was betraying me, reacting in ways that made me question my sanity, my morals, feeling the stretch as his knot forced its way in, locking us together.
Then, it happened. He knotted with me, stretching me to the limit, and I couldn’t help it; an orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking with the force of it. “Oh god, no,” I whispered, as he thrust a few more times, his release echoing through me for what felt like an eternity. Ten minutes of pulsing, of him emptying himself inside me, his cum hot, thick, and copious, filling me up. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of horror, shame, and an inexplicable, deep satisfaction, the warmth of his seed spreading inside, trickling down as he continued to pump.
When he finally withdrew, there was a wet pop, and I felt his ejaculation spill down my thighs, a mixture of our fluids creating a mess on the floor. I sat there, stunned, my skirt hitched up, my dignity somewhere lost between the kitchen tiles. I was confused, not disgusted, but utterly bewildered by the mix of sensations and emotions. What the hell is wrong with me? I thought, feeling a strange emptiness where there had been chaos, a void filled with the echoes of pleasure.
Looking at the floor, I muttered to myself, “What the fuck was that?” My job, which had been about joy, companionship, and care, now had this dark, twisted moment attached to it. I looked at Harry, who seemed oblivious to the gravity of what just happened, wagging his tail as if we’d just played a game.
I stood up slowly, my legs shaky, my mind racing. My heart was heavy with confusion and a new, dark curiosity about my own reactions. “I need to… rethink everything,” I said aloud, the reality of my situation dawning on me. I cleaned myself up in a daze, my thoughts a mess of vulgar realizations and new, erotic perspectives.
As I left Harry’s house, I glanced back at my van, at the logo that once symbolized my dream. Now, it was a reminder of something so unexpected, something that would change how I saw my job, how I saw myself, forever. A knot of fear, shame, and something dangerously close to excitement twisted in my gut as I contemplated what this meant for me, for my future.
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By HanSolo
#Rape #Teen #Zoophilia
