DOGS AND BITCHES

By

Dorothy Strangelove

From the moment our eyes met, he blew me away. I was just turned thirty, long since given up on finding a knight in shining armour. By that, I mean I had tried to find a prince and protector but all I'd found instead had been wasters, losers, drunks and bullies. I thought Trevor was different. He was funny, drew people to him like a magnet. He was charming. He was dark and handsome with cropped silver hair and striking hazel eyes with great big long lashes that I couldn't achieve unless I piled on mascara. He was in his forties, had recently split from his wife and we had got together the night we met. I was stuck in a loveless relationship and he had become my lover. He had been amazing. At first. Now after months of ups and downs and even having the unthinkable happen - him turning up drunk at my house and telling my partner about us (what a lot of work that took to smooth over), we were back to seeing each other again, in secret.

It was too late for me to turn away. I loved him too deeply and too much.

It was late January and bloody cold. Even colder inside his flat. He had no light or heating, couldn't be bothered to pay his bills to get it reconnected. He lived out of take away boxes. He left them all over the place. It stank a bit but not as much as the summer, that was the worst because leftovers went off quicker and flies loved it.

He never cleaned the place. There was an old brown stain on the wall from a night a year before when he had thrown his dinner up the wall. He had no wardrobes either. Just a clothes rail and stuff in binliners. There was furry stuff all over his kitchen. The kitchen was cluttered with plates bowls and saucepans. He had ate out of everything at some point and never washed it up. He lived like an animal. Maybe not. Maybe that's a bit harsh. Animals clean themselves. They even wash their arseholes - therefore if they had a kitchen and a bathroom they'd probably clean that too, so no, he wasn't an animal. He was a dirty little fucker.

Yet breaking up with him had almost killed me. As a man, despite his failings, he had been a good friend and supportive partner up to a point. As a lover he was amazing. He seemed to have a second sight when knowing how to turn me on. I had let him put his fingers deep in my arse and stretch me, it had hurt like nothing I'd ever done before but after that he could fuck me there whenever he felt like it. I always came hard when he was doing that. He liked to take me from behind. In fact it was his ususal position. He preferred arse because he was bi. Yet he denied it. He loved wearing my clothes and I had to admit he looked better than me in my snakeskin dress. He had great hips. But tonight he was wearing his grey suit. He had been drinking in a pub and then a club and had phoned me up and asked me to come round.

I was on the bed, still in my clothes. I wanted to sleep in them because this place was so cold. The street light outside shone yellow through the window. It looked distorted with the water that ran down the inside of the glass.

I'd just drunk half a small bottle of brandy. Neat, from the bottle. It hadn't been my first drink that day and I would probably have more to get to sleep tonight but it kept me warm enough to stay here - just about.

He was standing with his back to me, bent down over the china plate on the ironing board snorting a line, he paused to sniff again then cleaned up the rest of it.

Then he turned to face me, his eyes glazed and his voice slurred as he swayed on his feet.

"Fuckin suck it, then, you bitch."

I got up, put my arms around him. My heart ached as his arms stayed at his sides.

That was one of his rules.

"I don't do love." He had told me, "Don't fall in love with me or it's game over."

He knew I loved him. When he was really wrecked, he told me he loved me, too. But not often. He held me at night to keep him warm.

"Suck my cock."He repeated.

I saw a flicker of love in his eyes and then it was gone. He was warming me up by commanding me. I gratefully fell to my knees and took his cock deep in my mouth, sucking him hard up and down his length, flicking my tongue over the head of his cock to tease him.

He pulled back.

"Get on all fours."

He was stroking his cock, still unsteady but fired up enough to fuck me till I hurt.

That was the part I dreaded. He wan't a hard fuck to the point of enjoyment, it was all about him and how much he could push me. My clothes were off now and the cold bit at me like the air was filled with piranha fish. But that wasn't my concern now.

He was going to hurt me and it went beyond pleasure. But he was out of it and if I complained I risked angering him. His temper bordered on crazy. He had a split personality. So I kept my mouth shut and reminded myself why I was here.

He rubbed his cock up and down my slit, I was getting wetter and hoping this would be easy.

Then he pressed it against my arse. I tensed.

"Not tonight. It still hurts. You'll have to fuck my cunt."

He paused.

I remembered my manners.

"Please?"

"Alright but be dirty."

As he slid it inside me, I gasped with pleasure and with pain as he shoved it all the way up inconsiderately.

That was him, in and out, pumping hard like a pornstar while I was on my hands and knees. Taking it like a dog. He was a dog, I was his bitch. Master and Servant, that was how it used to be. Now I didn't trust him anymore, I didn't even like my back turned on him when he was fucking me. Three months before he had gone crazy, drunk and angry over nothing. Pinned me to the wall by my throat, thrown me across the bedroom. Told me I was not leaving alive. I'd had to beg for my life that night.

Now I was back here. In part because I loved him.

In part for another reason.

There is something holy about the man I love holding me in his dominance, me on my knees there to serve my lord. It is like being held in a fist of iron but caressed by the softest silk. As if the moment is hallowed, blessed by a higher power - and I am blessed to serve this divine man who gives me beautiful love and blissful orgasms. He is my master and protector and everything I've ever dared to dream of - except that Trevor isn't and never will be. I've given my heart too much  too soon and too deeply. Even after I'm removed from this situation, my heart will scar. I know this as he is fucking me. He's already scarred me in some ways. I don't trust him anymore.I never will again. Our relationship is desecrated and now I don't feel holy on my knees to him. I feel like a whore instead.

And I am no whore.

He thrusted harder, stabbing into me and slamming against my cervix, jarring me deeper inside, shoving my whole body forward so violently I had to hold on to the duvet till my fingers turned white.

"Tell me you like it up the arse."

"I love you fucking my arse." I said breathlessly, I drew in more air and began to turn out the words that made him cum. I had to make him cum. I needed him to cum.

"I love you stabbing my dirtbox, I want to clean your cock for you.."

He could barely speak as he abused my body.

"Oh yeah, lick it off.."

"I'll lick the shit off your cock and clean it nicely - "

That did it. He gave a groan and shoved it in one last, rough time and I felt him spurt and throb and with that feeling came relief.

Job done for another night.

I relaxed as he slid out of me, crawled into bed under two dirty quilts and as he got in beside me with his back turned I kissed his cheek, moved closer to the warmth of his body, my heart ached to say the words but they were stuck in my throat - they always stuck because I was so used to having them rejected. I love you. Three words so much easier to say than all his filth. But so impossible to say to him.

He closed his eyes and was snoring in minutes.

I watched him sleep. Yes, I still loved him. But in the way that I knew it was back then, in it's place. My priorities had changed the night he attacked me.

Ten seconds.

That's what he gave me to get down the stairs and out the door or he would kill me. That was his offer. I'd caled the police when we struggled. He had tossed the phone out of the window and locked it. But they had turned up, just as I was heading past his house and back down the darkened street.

I remember sitting in the car and the copper looking at the marks on my neck.

And the look on his face when I said I didn't want to press charges.

My reason?

Because I'd already decided that night when everything changed - I'll be fucked if I'm walking away with nothing. I had hopes and dreams too. He had no right to rip out my heart like he did. He was no good as a lover and would be even worse as a partner. But there was still something I wanted and now I was going to get it. This was for me, because I wanted andneeded it. This was something he deserved, for all the abuse, I would walk away from this the winner.

So when they asked me why I didn't want to press charges, I finally realised I had clicked back into survival mode and I put on a weak little voice like the brilliant performer I was and said: "I love him."

He was still sleeping. I lay beside him, put my arm around him and wished he would do the same to me but it would not happen. He didn't do emotion. It scared him too much. He was one fucked up man. It wasn't  my fault I loved him I guessed, but at least I had a game plan now. I was aiming for one thing only. Then I would be gone. We would be finished and for me it wouldn't come a moment too soon. This place was cold. It was dirty, it stank and I wanted to go home. I wanted warm evenings at home with heating  and lights and home comforts - it's amazing how you miss them when deprived of them. And even my partner - we had no sex life. We often argued. But at least it would be better than this.

I didn't hear from him the next day. To him there was no point seeing me if he didn't want any pleasure to come of it.

A day later he called me in the evening. Told me to meet him down the pub.

When I got in there I was grateful for the heat. Coming out in the cold after thawing out indoors had sent the icy air shooting through me and froze me all over again. He was drinking again with friends. He offered me a seat at the bar. He got me a double brandy. I downed it in minutes and he got me another. A few drinks later we moved away from the bar.

He smiled at a fat, ugly girl. She was in her twenties and a daughter of one of his mates.

She was all over him. Getting up close, touching him. She sat with us when we found a table. She sat next to him.

She flirted with him and he loved it.

Then I spoke up.

"What are you letting her do that for?"

He glared at me.

"If you don't like it fuck off home. I'm fucking her tonight, not you."

And she laughed.

I got up and swung my fist at her.

He caught my arm and dug his fingers deep in my flesh. He dragged me from the table and took me outside. He shoved me as he let go.

"Fuck off."Was all he said.

Tears were in my eyes. I hated her but his rejection hurt more. And I couldn't lose now. Not now when I was so close..

"I'm sorry."

He met my gaze.

He didn't have to say anything. I saw it in his eyes. He looked to me, then the concrete then back at me.

I understood; Say it on your knees.

It was icy that night, lightly snowing on and off.

But I did it any way.

I fell to my knees.

"I'm so sorry please forgive me, I love you."

The anger simmered down in his eyes.

He nodded.

"Go home. I'll see you tomorrow, Not tonight."

It hurt. He went back inside, sat next to her. I sat down at an empty bench in the car park. He looked out the window and saw me.

I had already decided he was not going to fuck her. If he fucked her he would carry on fucking her and never bother with me again.

And I hadn't put up with all this shit for nothing.

He came out of the pub.

He looked annoyed. But not furious like before.

"I'm going home."He said to me.

We walked up the road together. He kicked a fence post and smashed a solar light in someone's front garden. I said nothing and we carried on walking.

Then I heard a voice behind us calling his name.

The slag was back.

As she came up to us, I went for her.

"Why don't you fuck off?" I yelled.

Trevor was about to carry on walking.

"You fuck off he doesn't want you, he wants me!"She shouted, and grabbed hold of me.

She was struggling, trying to hit me, I was trying to break free from her grip.

Then a hand calmly reached in between us.

She let me go. She had to, she couldn't breathe anymore. He had his hand round her throat, thumb and forefinger squeezing her windpipe.

Her eyes were bulging and I saw fear. It was satisfying.

He glanced at me and in that moment I saw he had flipped to his alter ego. His split personality had taken over and actually come to my defence.

"What do you want me to do?"He asked me.

I smiled. The slag looked terrified. And I was now in command of the equivalent of a dangerous dog.

"Kill her." I said sweetly.

He kept a hold of her throat and carried on choking her. He leaned her backward over a brick wall. His face was right up close to her's, his voice quiet and low.

"You don't ever touch her again."He was saying.

I was surprised someone that fat could bend so much.

"Are you going to behave yourself?"He asked her, squeezing her tighter as her back threatened to break. He knew she couldn't reply so he asked her again.

I unzipped her bag. I tipped it out all over the street. She had a really cheap, crap mobile. I kicked it in the road.

"Oh no!"I exclaimed, "All your little things have fallen out of your bag. Oh dear!"

He pushed her hard as he let go and her fat legs went in the air as she tumbled over the wall.

Then he grabbed my arm and hurried me up the street.

I glanced back.

She had picked herself up and was on her knees trying to scrape the contents of her bag together.

He tugged on my arm again.

"Come on."He said, "You're coming home with me tonight."

And I smiled. Aggression always gave him a hard on.

My victory was short-lived.

As soon as we were upstairs he made it clear I was still to make up for my actions.

He opened the top drawer next to his bed and took out the KY jelly. He was still in his other self. I had been on the recieving end of it once and that had been enough - what he wanted, he would get..I wasn't about to argue with his dark half.

He put some KY on his fingers and shoved them in my arse. He took them out again, then put some more on his hand and covered his cock with it.

I said nothing, just tensed as he slid it in. He fucked me so hard I swear his cock hit the base of my spine. I felt shooting pains in my lower back that told me he was aggrevating my sciatica. But I took it.

"Fuck my arse..do it harder.." I urged him, knowing this would make him come and put and end to my suffering.

It worked.

He shoved it in me deep, filling me with hot cum.

My insides hurt till I fell asleep.

In the morning he shrugged off our quarrel. He knew he had started it and sober in the light of day realised he was in the wrong.

Not that there was any point in expecting an apology. He was never going to grant me that.

Instead he waited till I was awake then shoved his cock in my face.

"Suck it for me."

I nearly threw up. Dirty bastard.

"Wash it first."

He went to the bathroom, came back clean and smelling of soap.

I obeyed him.

I sucked him deep and hard till my mouth ached, then carried on sucking while I massaged his cock between my tits.

"Where do you want it?"He asked me.

"In my cunt."

He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back, shot his load all over my face. Smiled as he looked down at me covered in his cum.

And I smiled back, inwardly thinking: Thanks for nothing, wanker..

It was pointless expecting any kind of apology for last night. The part of me that still loved him clung to my point of focus:The end result. My love for him as a partner and any hopes I had nursed for Us had died the night he battered me.. but a new resolve was there now. And actually, it didn't include him at all. And it was something I wanted with all my heart and soul. It made all the shit I went through worth it. One day, it would be worth it.

When the bad weather cleared in march I walked to his house in the sunshine. I remember feeling real heat in the sun for a change, the sky was blue and early flowers were blooming at the roadside. And I thought, There is beauty in this world. I know it's there and I so want to see it, but I can't. Because I am empty inside. I was still getting over a bad chest infection - a consequence of surviving nights in the cold in his dirty home. When I got there I went upstairs, ate a take away, we talked about nothing and he ordered me on the bed.

I was on my knees. Bitch waiting for it. Bitch was about right and he didn't have a clue.

"I'm fucking your arse."He told me.

"No,"I said quickly, it's still hurting. I think we've done it that way too much, it needs a rest."

"It's been hurting for weeks."He complained, then said, "I'll have to fuck your cunt, then.."

He shoved it in. I complained and he ordered me to sit on it and ride him. I sat astride him and slid up and down his length, talked about licking his dirty cock after an arse fuck and he shot his load fast.

Then with the cum still running out of me I made an excuse and went home.

I never stayed at his house again.

I didn't need to.

In my kitchen there's a cupboard with a hole at the back. If anyone ever puts their hand inside they will find nine month's supply of pregnancy tests, all negative. I couldn't put them in the rubbish in case my partner found them - he's infertile. But on the tenth month I got a different result. Two red lines. That's when I called Trevor.

"I can't see you any more. I'm pregnant. But don't worry - I told him it's his. He thinks we shagged after he went on the piss the other week. He thinks it's a miracle. But thats alright isn't it? You don't want kids, do you?"

"Well if you told me first I might have been different.."

He actually sounded shocked and emotional.

Too shocked to realise I sounded pleased with myself.

"Well it's too late now." I told him.

He stayed away. I gave him every chance to see his baby but he didn't want to know.

His loss, not mine.

After we split when he attacked me I had decided: Put up with all the shit and at the end you'll have what you want.

And so I did.

My baby lights up my life. In that baby's face I see so much of him - but only the good, the good that must have been there at some point in his life. I'm truly happy now. I'm not empty any more.

And Trevor? He's still a scumbag. He has a new girlfriend now. It won't last. He never lasts with anyone.

Not that I would want him back.

I've got what I wanted.

The struggle paid off. They say nothing worth having in life comes easy, how true that is.

If I ever take a lover again it will be a man who is my prince, who gives me love and shares emotion with me. I've had enough of sleeping with animals.

To lay with a dog I had to become a bitch.

But oh, it was so worth it !

the end.