Anna's Song

I looked around the room as I entered the bar. What was I doing here? I hadn't come to a bar in years. Certainly not one like this. A meat market. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, stronger than I should be drinking I suppose, and barked like a dog.

That caught me totally off guard. Tourettes Syndrome? Generally it doesn't just happen to a 28 year-old out of the blue. But there it was – one quite audible woof. Get a grip, Anna. I looked around sheepishly to see if anyone would fail to pretend they didn't notice.

Great. A fat, greasy man was looking at me from down the bar. Looking hungry. This I did NOT need. Not to be hit on in this sleazy bar, not to have someone coming on to me, trying to touch me, seduce me. Someone wanting to run his coarse hands over my tits and down my ass, press his wet tongue past my lips, grind his hard cock into my wet pussy.

Oh my god. I was really, really horny. That guy was coming over, and I wanted to fuck. Just fuck. I couldn't wait for him to put his hands all over me.

What the fuck was going on? He was not only not my type, he was actively repulsive. He looked like he hadn't washed this week. And I'd have fucked him right here at the bar.

He said "you come here, often," or some such line. My logical mind said fuck off you greasy little turd, but my mouth smiled and said "any minute now." He put his hand on my shoulder, slid it down my back. I leaned into him, my lips wet, my pussy throbbing, and asked him if he had a room here.

We started making out in the elevator. He started fingering me, sucking my tits through my blouse. I came right there, above the third floor. When the door opened and someone else got on, I couldn't even restrain myself. I was all over him, my hand down his pants, holding his hard cock, whispering to him how good he was going to taste, how much I wanted him in my mouth. He tried to stop me, but I couldn't. If he had let me, I'd have taken him right then, in the elevator, with this maid watching.

We got to his floor, and to his room, and by the time we were to his bed, I had my breasts free, and my skirt was flying across the room. My mind screamed condom, and I managed to whisper the word, but he acted like he didn't hear, and I didn't repeat the request. He entered me and my body sang and my mind spun down and we fuckedfuckedfuckedfucked. My god, I've never experienced anything like that. I was a machine, thrusting thrusting. Trying to get him deeper into me, digging my nails into his naked flesh. I came and came, and when he came it was heaven and I was laughing and crying and thanking him, and dripping joy all over the sheet.

And my new lover, whose name I didn't even know, fell asleep and started snoring.

I lay there, stunned by the ferocity of my lust, and the intensity of our sexual moment. I had never, ever done something like that before. And I hadn't had unprotected sex since I was fourteen. Even then I knew better. But I also had never had an experience so raw, so ecstatic. This was, without question, the best sex I had ever had, ever dreamed of.

I got out of the bed, peed, wandered through the room. His pants lay across the other bed, the pocket contents scattered across the bed and floor. A garage door opener lay on the floor between the beds. I picked it up, idly pressed the button.

And barked.

What the fuck?

I looked at the device. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a standard opener. And it made me bark like a dog.

It was hard to concentrate on the problem – I was getting really horny again. I rubbed myself with the device, getting really wet. Damn. I was going to fuck this guy again. It made sense; the fucking was so good the first time. Why was I wasting time with this damned button when I could be riding my fat stud over here? I went and started to wake him up.

Around two that morning, mister lover snoring like a bandsaw, I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking. What if this motherfucker had AIDS or even just herpes? Why was I so drawn to him?

And began to wonder if the button and the fucking were related.

I grabbed the opener, found my clothes, and snuck out of the room.

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The next few days felt surreal. It was obviously just a coincidence; it was clear the box controlled me. So I barked. I can't explain that but it doesn't make any more sense to say that a button makes me bark. In fact that was pretty fucking crazy. But it didn't make any more sense to put that evening's festivities off to a whimsical urge. I had been completely out of control.

Something in the drink maybe.

As time passed, I discarded the button-operated love slave theory for something like rohypnol. Something the guy slipped me.

But it left a nagging feeling.

Eventually, I put the clicker away and got on with my life.

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Odd event of the week number two: I got an invitation out of the blue for a party at what seemed to be a fraternity. I was twenty-eight years old, and completely out of the college scene. How on earth did they get me on their mailing list?

Even stranger, I was tempted to go. Even if it was a mistake, it was the first frat party I'd ever been invited to. Well, formally invited to, I'd had frat boys shout all sorts of obscene invitations as I walked past over the years.

So on the night of the party, I agonized over my wardrobe, decided on jeans and a Politically Correct Message t-shirt, and headed over.

It was packed, and loud, and I began to regret my decision. I didn't know anyone, of course, and even if I did I wouldn't be able to find them. I tasted the punch, winced at the proof, and grabbed some pretzels to nibble, and barked.

This time, I heard several other women bark with me.

Damn. Time to go. Several of the guys around me were leering at me, coming towards me. I started for the front door. The room was crowded, and it was slow pushing past all that flesh. And the closer I got to the door, the less I wanted to leave.

A hand took my elbow. I turned, scared, excited. A boy, I thought. He's just a kid. He couldn't be more than nineteen, and I was going to fuck his brains out.

He wasn't even subtle. He said, "let's go upstairs." I nodded, pressed my breasts against him, played with his hair. He smiled and led me up the stairway. I vaguely noticed several guys with equally amorous women on their arm, and then we were in his room and I was trying to get his pants undone, and he had his mouth all over my tits and was going "oh." As I got his cock free, he told me it was his first time. It didn't really register. I didn't care – I wanted some fucking.

It was over gloriously fast. He came just as he entered me and I pushed his pulsing, spewing member as deep as I could and came with him. I felt the wave spill into me and through me and melted in his arms.

"Again," my voice said. "Fuck me again." And as he babbled an apology about coming so soon, I kissed him and sucked his nipples and ran my hand over his now flaccid cock and started licking, chanting "again, again."

It didn't take him long to get up again (god bless teenagers), and no time at all for him to come again. The one-minute wonder fled after that – pulled on his clothes and left the room. At the door, he turned back, reached into his pocket. I woofed at him, and he ran from the room.

Fuck, I thought, trying to get my head to clear. I gotta get out of here. But I could already feel it starting again, this craving, hunger, insatiable. And now the next guy was coming through the door. I rose to meet him. I didn't even notice what he looked like. I just wanted to fuck. Some part of me was saying run past him, just get out! But my other parts were talking much, much louder.

He reached into his pocket, and I barked again. Fuck, you idiot, can't you see the program is already running? I grabbed his shirt, tore the buttons off of it, pulled him on top of me. Hornysatisfiedhorny. God this was great stuff. He entered into me and I heaved against him, rolled him over, straddled him. I thrust down hard, ground my cunt into his pelvis. He twisted my tits, laughed, slapped me. I didn't care. I just wanted to feel his hot juices flow into me. He lifted me – so strong – and threw me onto the bed.

"You like this, bitch?" he ground out. "You like me fucking you, you stupid cunt?" And I nodded, blissful, desperate.

"Please come," I chanted. "Please oh please. Come in me, baby. Please fill me. Let me feel you explode in me."

And he did. And he collapsed against me, this nameless he. And then he grabbed his stuff and I barked and there was the next guy, and the next.

They didn't let me sleep at all. And it all started to run together. I would never be able to identify who I fucked that night, except for the first boy. I do remember one point where they had me make out with some other girl – she and I clung to each other, our tongues deep in each other's throat, our hands groping each other, pulling each other's hair, as people took turns fucking us from behind. We licked and woofed and sucked and barked and the cum ran down my legs. I was vaguely aware that a lot of guys were watching, and I suspect someone was filming.

There was nothing ever like this. I was so sore, so tired, and then I would bark and the pain and exhaustion would become part of the pleasure. Make it never end, I thought. Let me die this way. Fuck me until I'm dead.

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I woke up bruised, bleeding, filthy, raw. My clothes were nowhere. I was lying on a couch somewhere, along with two other naked, cum-encrusted women. I have never hurt so badly. I stood, swayed, and started to cry. I knew I had to get out of there, before someone activated me again. But it hurt so bad to move. I had scratches on my back, my arms, my ass.

One of the girls on the sofa woke, smiled, then grimaced at the pain. She had a bruise forming on her cheek. She reached over and started copping a feel of the girl next to her, who started to rouse.

"Hey, Honey," she said to me. "First time?"

"Last." I said, hoping that I could keep that promise.

"Huh. What the fuck? Have you ever felt more alive than last night? God, when they fuck me, it's everything." She was fingering her neighbor, who groaned, grabbed her hand and pushed her further in. The neighbor looked up at me, blearily.

"Do they just keep you here?" I asked.

"What do you mean 'keep'? They make us leave Sunday morning. You don't get to stay unless you've made a really big impression. But that still means that we've got another full night of it, Babe."

"No fucking thank you. I want to get out of here. Where are my clothes?"

"Jesus. You'll never find them. Don't even bother. Just grab a shirt and sweat pants. But the guys will be up in a little while and ready to start again. Just wait till then. I promise you, you won't want to leave."

I thought back to last night, and shivered. She was right, of course. Even now, part of me wanted to stay. It felt so fucking incredible. A few weekends of this, and it would become the center of my life.

"Look, how did you get here?" I asked. "I mean, what makes you come?"

She smiled. "Every one of them makes me come, and that's why I'm here. I've never experienced anything like it."

I wanted to ask, was afraid to ask. "Do you, uh, bark? I mean. . ." I didn't know how to say it.

"Babe, I bark, howl, piss on myself if they want me to."

Time was passing. Someone would wake up soon. "Look, I want to talk more to you about this. Can I call you?"

"You don't have anything to offer me, girl. You want to talk to me, you know where to find me. Every weekend. And now, soon as I can walk again, I'm going to wake up one of the guys and get my day started right."

I fled. I went quietly into one of the bedrooms. There was a guy sleeping soundly, curled up with the woman I was groping the night before. I felt myself getting a little wet, but I stayed on task, found a t-shirt and sweats, and looked around and found another of the activators. I had a powerful, insane desire to punch the button, but I got out of the room, and the urge faded.

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It was early afternoon when I left the place, evening by the time I got home. I took a long, hot shower, and thought about consequences. I hadn't had a lover for awhile and wasn't on the Pill. The odds were decent that I'd get pregnant. And I was almost certain to have picked up something in that love nest. But the bigger deal was that I would keep doing this. As long as men had this clicker, I would spread my legs anytime to anyone. And a few more times and I wasn't going to care so much about it. I was going to be a whore in no time.

Monday, I had an appointment with Linda. She'd help me sort all this out. Linda's practice was booming – it seemed sometimes like most of the women in the city went to her. I myself had recommended her to half a dozen friends. I couldn't speak highly enough of her. Since starting to see her a month ago, I felt like I had a whole new outlook on life.

There was something. I could call Jenny, my friend who'd turned me onto Linda in the first place.

She answered on the first ring, sounding breathless. Before I could tell her about my last few days, she started gushing about this guy she'd just met. A perfect stranger, but she'd invited him up at once, and they'd just had the most fantastic sex she'd ever experienced. She was flying high, couldn't stop saying how good it was. And then she said he was coming out of the bathroom, woofed, and hung up the phone.

Sweet Mary mother of Jesus. Jenny too. I would have to get with her as soon as she was free, find out more from her. But going over there now was out of the question. I would be panting right next to her with her new "boyfriend."

So there were at least a dozen of us that had been, uh, programmed this way. And easily a dozen units out there that men were using. When could it have happened? And what, exactly, was it that happened?

I started feeling my head, my neck. It didn't take long. There was a lump the size of a pea at the base of my skull. The flesh around it was tender, and when I looked in a mirror, I saw that it was red, with a tiny puncture wound in the center.

Okay. That's where. Why is obvious. Next is how? Or maybe when.

Every sexual encounter in my life seemed momentarily suspect. But no. The lump on my head was fresh, and certainly NOTHING even remotely compared to this week's festivities. So it had to have been within the last few weeks.

But when? I didn't have any gaps in memories, didn't do anything out of the ordinary. The only thing new in my life was Linda.

I angrily pushed the thought from my head. It couldn't be Linda. I simply refused to believe it. I trusted her implicitly, more so than anyone I'd ever met. I'd trust Linda with my life.

And the thought came unbidden, if someone put a governor in your head, wouldn't they program it to make you trust them?

Fuck.

What did I know about Linda? She'd been in town for a mere 4-5 months. Ask a dozen of her clients and you'll get a dozen different answers what she does. She's a counselor, a hypnotherapist, a practitioner of biofeedback technology. Even a guru, a spiritual leader. Before Jenny talked me into going, I was deeply suspicious. But it only took a few sessions to win me over completely.

And how had that come about? For me, it was biofeedback. I went in seeking relaxation, a freedom from tension. She promised happiness, and I almost walked out then. She gave me a bitter herbal tea (valerian, she said, with hops and some other soporifics), hooked me up to the feedback unit, and the first session went swimmingly well. I felt great afterwards, and let go of some of my skepticism.

The next session, after the tea, she began talking about using a more western approach; a pharmaceutical mix given by injection that would greatly speed the process. As relaxed as I was by the first two sessions, and prompted by Jenny's near fanatical testimony for the process, I allowed her to inject me the next time – three weeks ago. And two weeks ago, and last week.

The injection was potent. I joked about how it knocked me out. Apparently it had.

Damn. How could I have been so gullible? How could I extend so much trust to a complete stranger?

And even now, I didn't want to believe that Linda would do such a thing to me.

Suddenly I wondered what I would find at the base of her skull.

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So what now? Insanely, I wanted to rush to Linda, confess everything I'd been thinking and ask her forgiveness. But that was probably more of the governor talking. What in my own mind could I trust?

I needed to talk with Jenny. But she wasn't going to be available for awhile yet.

What if he went off with her? If the first guy had been attractive, instead of repulsive, I would have made the mistake of thinking it was love at first sight. If he'd used his magic wand on me all weekend, I might well have left with him. One full night of Animal House and I was more willing to stay than I cared to admit.

A daring plan. I could wait till fairly early Sunday morning, sneak into the frat house, and talk with those girls again. Find out if they saw Linda (I want to see Linda! Push it away). Feel the backs of their head, see if they had the same lump.

As I drew a bath, the phone rang. It was Jenny, asking me to come meet her new boyfriend. I begged off, saying something about having a headache. I unplugged the phone, lit several candles and some incense, and slid my aching body into the hot sudsy water.

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I dozed in the tub for what seemed like hours. The beautiful flicker of the candle flames mesmerized me, the scent of patchouli calmed and soothed my battered nerves. I finally got out of the tub, serene. I was practicing Tai Chi, losing myself in the slow, graceful, flowing dance, when there was a knock at the door.

It was Jenny. I opened the door, happy that she was away from her captor, and we woofed at each other.

Shit. I slammed the door, bolted it. Ran into the back bedroom and shut that door. I could still hear a man's voice calling my name. What a virile, powerful voice. I'd do anything for a voice like that. I threw myself on the bed, covered my head with the pillow. Now he was completely drowned out, but nothing could drown out the growing desire from within, the knowledge that he was there, waiting to fill me. That his hard cock would slide into me so eagerly, easily, and that I would take him in and feel every inch of it.

I had to get out of here. Through the window, down the fire escape. It was my only chance. I threw the pillow away, looked down at myself. I was wearing only the robe I'd thrown on to answer the door. I let it drop, felt my hand slide into my crotch, moaned with the pleasure of it. A panicked voice, fading rapidly, said get dressed, go out the window. I looked out my window, my resolve dissipating. I was hyper-aware of every double entendre. I could GO DOWN the fire escape. I didn't have to let Him CUM in. I grabbed a t-shirt, pulled it over my head, and got lost in the feeling of the fabric against my hard nipples. I played with them a little, then went to open the door.

Jenny was on her knees, crying, begging to let her taste him. He had one hand on her forehead, the other wrapped in her hair, holding her head back from his crotch. When I opened the door in just my t-shirt, he was obviously pissed, but his face changed as he looked me over, starting at my long, tanned legs, resting a long while on my breasts, so obvious under my t-shirt, and finally following my long, dark hair to my beautiful hazel eyes. I reached behind, pulled my t-shirt taught against my legs, and lightly ran my free hand down my breasts, across my belly.