Sunshine, DOG CAGES with LAURENNE MERIETH<br/><br/>The gorgeous French woman standing over my cage confused me. I stared at her blankly as she spoke, but her words didn’t really register. It was like she was telling a story about someone else, someone who wasn’t me. Because everything I was hearing and seeing was completely impossible. Especially they way she was looking at me … that hungry, lecherous look on that pretty face of hers. Practically salivating. Like I was a piece of meat instead of a person … or a dog.<br/><br/>“There’s been a mistake,” I said to her, “I’m not a dog, I can speak, I aaiiiEEE!!!!!”<br/><br/>I cried out as she opened the cage and grabbed me, hauling me out. She took out an absolutely exquisite collar, black leather, studded with diamonds. It looked to be worth more than all of the jewelry I’d ever owned. I started thinking about how this collar might be the only piece of jewelry I’d ever own again and my eyes welled up with tears. I winced as the diamonds dug harshly into my neck, but the thought of being mistaken for a dog hurt far more at the moment than the gemstones scraping against my flesh.<br/><br/>“Please, I don’t want to,” I started to say, tears running down my cheeks now, but the woman didn’t notice. Or care, to be honest. Instead, she started to straddle me, and I gasped in shock as she clipped a leash onto my collar and started to fondle me. I tried curling up in a ball to escape her wicked hands, but that was almost worse … I realized quickly I was curling up like a bad, frightened dog.<br/><br/>The woman’s hands slithered over my breasts, and I screamed. Not from her touch, although that was horrible enough. My breasts were bigger, fuller than they were before … when I was … was … I stopped, and didn’t want to think about that. They’d been pierced, too, with two simple golden rings, and the woman tugged painfully on them. I bit my lip, unsure of myself all of a sudden … why did the tugging feel so good? and why was something strickling out of them …<em>milk?</em>It was awful, but I didn’t want her to stop …<br/><br/>… and then she slid her slender fingers into my pussy and I cried out again, louder this time.<em>That</em>felt even better. I thrust myself back against her fingers a few times before stopping myself, it felt so good. I shook my head, still crying.<br/><br/>“What did you do to me?” I asked the woman, my voice shaking uncontrollably as I begged her for an answer. “What’s wrong with me?”<br/><br/>She didn’t answer me, though. She just made a pleasant comment about how it was a pity I wasn’t a virgin anymore, and my cheeks burned red with shame. They burned even more when she stopped playing with my pussy, and instead casually slid a finger into my ass and started wiggling it around.<br/><br/>My head whipped around wildly as I heard another woman – also rich, also pretty, and als o incredibly cruel – casually ask if I was having my temperature taken, and then ask if she planned on shoving a fist in my ass … and then ask the woman sitting astride me if she wanted dinner later. Like this was all perfectly normal. Like it wasn’t some sick, monstrously horrible joke …<br/><br/><em>A fist in my ass?</em>I thought in despair.<em>I couldn’t … that’s so monstrous … I <strong>couldn’t</strong> …</em><br/><br/>And then I started crying, as I realized I was pushing my hips back again against her invading finger. It felt really good inside me, and I didn’t know why, and I absolutely hated it. And myself.