Hounded: Morning Surprise

Perverts 'R' Us

By Perverse Verberations ( F/m, ball-bust, beast, nosex )

Note: All people and events in this story are entirely fictitious. Send Feedback to: perverse_verberations@hotmail.com

I slowly awaken to the radio of my alarm clock. I'm laying here wrapped in my warm blankets, when I suddenly come fully awake to the sound of a slight thud and scuffle. It was not very loud, but definitely discernable to newly-awakened ears, and I feel the presence of someone or something. I quickly look around my room, but see nothing. I lay here, waiting to hear more, but there is nothing.

After about a minute, I shrug. It could have been my son, our dog, or even my imagination, I guess. I reach over, click off the radio and screw up my courage to greet the cool morning. Sure enough, I get up out of my warm bed to the greeting of cold wooden floors and the chilly air. I reach over and pull my robe from the small chair next to my bed and done it over my nude body. The silk robe is cold and I can feel my nipples quickly responding! I momentarily search for my slippers by running my feet over the floor. I don't feel them, nor do I see them anywhere on the shadowed floor. Oh, hell! I can't locate them and figure I must have missed placed them, yet again! Damn cold floors!

I tie the belt to my robe and make my shuffling way toward the bathroom. I stop momentarily to admire myself in my vanity mirror, and I slowly run my hands over my body - still firm and rather muscular, since I work out regularly to stay in shape. I eye my breasts and they seem to be standing at attention, what with them being firm and now topped off with two very hard nipples! I slide my hands up to my heavy, firm breasts and cup them, raising them up high. I give each a tight squeeze and little shake each.

"Good morning, girls," I rasp out, my voice rough from just waking up. "Ready to greet another day and to make another buck in the cold cruel world of corporate America?" I look at myself a few seconds more, give a little rueful smile, turn away, and start for the bathroom again, while letting each breast drop. They give a slight little bounce as they fall back into position. I go into the bathroom and click on the light, squinting against the glare, even though I have only clicked on the one low-wattage bulb...

As I turn to shut the door, I see something pushed off under my bed slightly. My slippers! I quickly make my way back to my bed to retrieve them. I grab them up, walk to and sit on the little vanity stool and begin to put on each slipper. As I slide in my bare foot, I feel something sticky. Removing the shoe I discover a puddle of pearly substance on the surface of the inner sole, which trails along after my foot. At first I'm completely baffled. Then I lift the slipper to my face and tilt my head down to take a whiff. The smell is unmistakable. It's semen!

My mind races. Then I think of the dog! I've caught him in here before. That damn...

I quickly reach over and pull out a sanitary napkin and begin to wipe my foot disgustedly. I put the slippers down and head toward my bedroom door. Sure enough the door is standing ajar. Damn thing will NOT stay shut, it seems. It must be warped or something. This has happened several times now and the dog must have come and gone this morning because of it. I know for a fact that the beast smells at my shoes often. Hell, I've caught the animal at my undergarments before and have had to make sure not to leave them lying around because of it. Rage builds in me. Having my foot covered in filth the first thing in the morning is NOT fun. I listen to any sounds outside my door and hear nothing. I figure my son must still be asleep and so I step outside the door.

I look down the hall and can't believe my eyes. It's that damn dog, lying just outside my door! So, he fucks my shoe and then is preparing to greet me first thing in the morning to let me know the fact? I knew that he has matured, because I've caught him a couple times already trying to hump. I thought I had him broken of it from the whippings I've given him by my belt. I've even whipped him with my slippers before, for the sniffing he's done to them and to my panties. Guess I was wrong about having broken him and he's letting me know it. Rage fills me, but I keep calm.

"Buster, come here boy," I say softly. He looks up with his brown puppy-eyes his tongue comes lolling out. "Come on. Come here."

I try to keep my voice calm, even though the rage has built to the point of eruption upon seeing the animal. OH, how I can't stand animals. As you can see, I'm not an animal person. I can't stand them. But when my son saw the puppy, a cute little basket hound, and begged to have him, I couldn't refuse. Of course the puppy is gone for the most part and the animal is now pretty much grown. Normally, he's not a bad animal. He's actually quite friendly. I just don't like the hair, drool and everything else that goes with it. Not to mention the fucking cum and my mind erupts more!

"Buster! Here boy. Come on," I say softly once again and as kindly as possible.

He stands. Yeah, the puppy is gone all right and replaced by a horny slipper-humping little shit! Oh I feel so disgusted! Smiling I walk up to him. Even with me staying calm, I think he senses my rage. His expression changes to one of doggy-worry and his tail and ears droop. As I get close enough I grab him by the scruff.

"Come with me," I say, still staying calm but he does not want to come. He's starting to whine a bit and he pulls against my hand.

"Come on!" I hiss and tug him into my room. I close the door with my foot, so not to awaken my son, and drag him over to my slipper. I sit down on the floor, my robe splaying open and pick up the soiled slipper. I hold it to his nose and begin to rub it in.

"Smell that, you filthy animal? Smell it?!" I yell but not too loudly. I then raise it and begin to spank the dog's ass, over and over and he begins to yelp.

I get a momentary flash of how I've whipped my own son with these very slippers across his butt on more than a few occasions. Sometimes even in this very robe! I guess that's why I'm drawing such a strong comparison between spanking my son and this dumb animal. The reason for using my slippers on my boy is that these are fairly soft, compared to using a belt or my hand. That and it certainly spares my hand the stinging result of punishment, I think laughingly. My son is good for the most part, but he does have his moments. Though these past recent months he's really behaved well...

I'm still whacking the dog and my large breasts are jiggling in my robe delightfully. I can feel my nipples brushing the smooth material pleasantly and in another situation I would be enjoying it. Then the dog yelps out loudly.

"Hush!" I tell him and swat him harder. He begins to howl. "Bad dog. Bad, bad dog!"

I slap him over his head and snout and go back to his rear for more. He's tugging and yelping and then he breaks loose. He runs into my bathroom and I follow him. He turns and growls at me and at first I back off a little. Then rage takes over completely.

"Oh, you dumb little fuck. You've done it now!" I yell and he backs away cowering.

I quickly drop down on top of him and pin him to his side. I begin to literally beat the shit out of him with my slipper and I dimly note that a tit has fallen from my robe. I continue to try and beat the crap out of him. However, just how badly can one truly give a beating with a slipper? Then as I'm beating him, I take note of the fact that his testicles are right there in plain view and are wobbling around in his futile attempts to get away. I get a naughty thought. A truly nasty one, but at this moment I don't feel any sympathy for the dirty animal. I stop slapping him with the slipper.

"OK, you dumb fuck. I've tried being nice about it." I growl. "So, you want to play games with my slippers? OK. Then let's play a game that I'LL enjoy?"

I position myself a little better, reach down, grab his hind leg and pull it up. Now, his balls are RIGHT there. I give a second thought about what I'm going to do. A part of me knows it's wrong. It just is...

I look back over my shoulder at the dog. His brown doggy eyes are looking at me fearfully and then he breaks the eye contact in submission. I get a strange surge of euphoria. Yeah, it's wrong to beat genitalia, but at this particular moment of anger and... and... with this sense of... power... no one around to stop me...

"You ready for your punishment!" I scream. "Well, here it comes!" I lift my hand and slipper. I hesitate. That part of me knowing it's wrong screams out. "Fuck it," I breathe out.

I then quickly bring the slipper crashing down right across the dog's testicles. He howls out loud but this time with real pain and not just out of fear. He begins squirming and bucking, trying to get me off and to get away. I ain't budging.

"Yeah, you fucker! You like that?!" Strangely I know that I do.

Whack! Howl!

"Was it worth it?!" Yes! Yes, it is! All reservations about what I'm doing to him melt away.

Whack! Howl!

"Well! You deserve this!" I yell. Oh, yeah. He deserves this and more! "You filthy animal. You ever come near my things again..."

I give a moments thought of actually grabbing his testicles to give him a good squeeze but the thought thoroughly disgusts me. No, the slipper is...

WHACK! HOWL!

He's really bucking now and trying to get free but he can't. I know that I've done enough, but something in me...

WHACK!

I give four very hard quick whacks and the dog can't even howl fast enough. He quivers under me and then gives off one long loud howl that is really up there in pitch. Suddenly, it really sinks in what I'm doing and I feel a bit sick to my stomach. I then quickly get up and off the animal and he wastes no time getting up. However, as soon as he tries to dash off he quickly finds that he can't move so well. He sort of shambles out of my bathroom, whining. I walk hurriedly after him and go to open my bedroom door.

"Get out!" I hiss and step back.

At first he looks around for a place to hide, but then it seems to dawn on him that this is NOT the place he wants to hide in. He goes shuffling out of my door and he eyes me the whole time. I raise the slipper up, as he passes, and he quickly tucks tail and runs, with a bad limp. I quickly shut the door and lean against it, with my shoulder.

I'm breathing hard, and off in the standing mirror I can see myself. One tit hanging out, my chest heaving and my face is impassive at the moment, though I know it wasn't just a minute ago. I feel so disgusted because, if I'm honest with myself, I enjoyed giving out that punishment. I enjoyed it too much. I know this cause even sweaty and hot I have two VERY hard nipples.

Suddenly, I'm hit with that feeling of another presence! This time it's like I have eyes watching me and so I self-consciously slip the robe back over my boob and look around. I hold my robe clasped shut with my hand...

"Get ahold of yourself, woman!" I tell myself loudly.

There's no one here - just me. It's just been the strain of what I've done is all and I must be feeling guilt. Shameful guilt for having taken so much enjoyment out of that perverse episode. I give off a shuddering little sigh and I then make my way to the bathroom. As I enter, I realize that I'm still holding the soiled slipper and I hurriedly deposit the filthy thing in the trash can. I do NOT want it anymore. I go to the tub and prepare my shower...

I'm all showered and feeling damn good now. Washed and warm. However, once I step out of the tub I'm wishing I had my slippers. I walk out of the bathroom, with the towel wrapped around my still partially-moist body and I click on my bedroom light. I look at the time. DAMN! I quickly get dressed, made up and ready for work.

As I get up from my bench in front of my mirror I hear soft slowly moving steps outside my door. The dog? No. From the sound, it's my son. What is he doing? I then begin to make my way toward my bedroom door and I can hear his steps going down the stairs, but quickly this time.

Once I'm to my door, I open it and begin to make my way down the hall to the stairs. I can hear my son's feet going into the kitchen; they make that distinctive sound of feet on tile. I smile to myself.

These past several months he's really become the grown little man. Without having me to tell him so, he's been getting up and preparing his own breakfasts, and been getting himself ready for school. I can't help smile in pride. Most eleven-year-olds don't do that, and I take pride in the fact that as a single mother I've obviously instilled a good sense of responsibility in him. He's also just as obviously considerate enough to try and be quiet about it. Of course, my good feelings are colored by this morning's events. I then begin to walk down to greet him...

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