THE BOSS’S SLUT 10: Convention Slut – Kennel Slut

CHAPTER TEN: CONVENTION SLUT – KENNEL SLUT

“What’s on the agenda for today, Sir?”

We were relaxing in the hotel café over another cup of coffee. We had managed to arrive just before the end of serving breakfast, which happened to be my favorite meals. It was probably the eggs and fatty meats of the choices I gravitated to. I was in a casual dress with straps over the shoulder. There was nothing obviously erotic about it except for the shortness of the hem to mid-thigh and the fullness of the skirt. The light material allowed it to swing with my walk, especially when wearing heels, which I almost always did. Of course, the lightness of the material allowed for a breeze to sometimes lift the dress. I knew if we went outside I would be told to not interfere with the wind in my dress. That I was not allowed to wear underwear would make that most interesting.

“Do you even know what the convention is about?” I shook my head. It didn’t seem to be important to me to question anyone. Probably some boring industry. Besides, I was there to entertain some men, not feign interest in their industry. But, he was smiling, which had me pause as I raised the cup to my lips. “It’s called, The Semi-Annual Southeastern Regional Kennel Club Convention.” I put the cup down on the saucer without finishing to take a sip.

“Kennel Club, Sir?” I was already thinking of nasty things that could mean, but decided I should rein in the horniness rising up within all over again. I would have thought last night would have quenched some of that.

He was smiling that smile I had come to understand indicated much more was coming. “I thought that might pique your curiosity.” He glanced around our immediate area to see if anyone was close enough to overhear. “Yes. Those last gentlemen last night you engaged so magnificently are kennel owners. Those five men own several kennels in the region. According to our discussion last night, they specialize in purebred dogs that are well-trained.”

I looked at him over my coffee cup with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. “Sir, did you discuss with them my fondness of …”, I glanced around our table, “… of being with dogs?”

He smiled, his eyes piercing mine. He was gaging my reaction. “No.” He turned his eyes out the window we were seated next to then back to me. I waited. “How are you feeling after last night?” He lowered his voice, “Is my slut sated? Sore?”

I blushed as his words came out and his eyes bore into mine. I could feel the rush of warmth spread over my face, neck, and chest. I took a sip of coffee and glanced around, again. “Sir, the jacuzzi worked wonders on my body. My pussy and asshole are a little tender, but okay. As far as being sated after last night … I’m a little scared.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Why are you scared, my dear?”

I squirmed in my seat, the heat of blush rising, again. We were in a restaurant discussing how my body felt after my gangbang. “I’m very wet, Sir. I’m afraid because I am wondering if I CAN be sated, anymore. I have no idea how many men there were or how many times I was used by them last night. My body has some soreness, but this discussion has also caused my body to prepare for more. Shouldn’t I be concerned, Sir? What’s happened to me? Did I go from liking sex to needing sex in ever greater forms and quantity?”

He was pensive. That was affirming to me. He had always been supportive and protective as he challenged me and guided me. He wasn’t discounting my feelings but considering them. He reached his hand out, his fingers stroking my hand. His voice was soft, “Perhaps your reaction now isn’t an indication of requiring greater forms and quantity but, instead, a preparatory response of your body to opportunity. Were you feeling this way earlier or when we were eating?” I thought back and shook my head. No, I wasn’t, it was just a morning with him to enjoy some breakfast. He smiled, “See? It isn’t that your body is always craving it now, but when the discussion became focused on the potential, your body responded. Your body didn’t know if the opportunity was in moments or tonight or tomorrow or next week. A trigger sent a signal and your body responded.” I watched him closely. Was he bull-shitting me? Did he have a degree in the sexual response of the female body and psyche? It all sounded so reasonable … and preferable. He seemed to sense my concerns relax and continued, “You know what I think?” I shook my head, my eyes flitting up to him with my head slightly bowed to my cup. Even to me, it felt like I was flirting with him. “I think it is the slut part of you is fully released. She isn’t restrained, bound within you only to see some occasional, partial effect on you. She is wholly a part of who and what you are.”

“But, I don’t want to only be a slut, Sir.”

He chuckled. “You aren’t, my dear! I know you don’t follow football, but consider this … I read a story of a young college coach taking his first assignment as head coach. When he met with his team for the first time, this young coach told his team a secret, football is important and they have to focus their every fiber on it … but only while playing or preparing to play. But, otherwise, it can’t consume their lives. They have to have fun, relax, have relationships, excel at school work and jobs. He told these impressionable young men that their lives have to be balanced. Most coaches would try to influence their players to live and breathe football or whatever sport.” He paused and I was already considering his message. “You know what the effect was?” I shook my head.