I lived in constant fear that he would lose interest in me. He was a hard man to please. I had never dealt with such a complex person in all my life.

Life with Jurgen was full of rituals and games. Some were fun. Some were strange. He had strict rules, rules that he expected me and the dog to follow precisely. The dog had been trained to follow his rules since it was a puppy. Diesel was programmed. It was more difficult for me. Jurgen always said dogs love rituals and Rottweilers especially needed structure.

He expected to be obeyed. He had me keep a notebook filled with lists of foods that he liked, recipes he wanted me to memorize, brand names he liked, directions on how to grind his favorite coffee beans and daily schedules he expected me to follow. He did not like the way I folded towels and taught me the right way to fold them. He eased up on his ban on bras for me, but the rule was whenever I wore a bra, it had to be with that sandpaper tormenting my nipples. He said he wanted the irritation to remind me of him all the time.

When I got dressed nicely to go out, in my high heels, Jurgen would give me paper towels and send me on "poop patrol" into the three kennels and stand outside watching me in my dress and heels bending down to pick up dog shit while the dogs growled suspiciously at me. Jurgen would go out with me and make sure I picked up all the turds. I think that chore was the most humiliating of all, but I saw it as a special opportunity to demonstrate my devotion to him.

Meals with Jurgen were always special. When we went out to restaurants he always ordered for me. I never had any say what I ate, except that he deliberately ordered food I did not like, even liver and onions once. Yuck! He said eating out with him was not for my pleasure, but his entertainment and he took pleasure in making me eat food I would never eat with anyone else. It was part of his power over me. He always made me eat it all, too. It was always my opportunity to demonstrate the depth of my devotion to him.

When it was time to feed the dog, Jurgen would stand in the kitchen and order Diesel to "stay" while he filled the bowls with food and fresh water. The dog would wait patiently for Jurgen's approval to eat. I was not allowed to feed the dog, and I was never to give it a command. Jurgen forbade me from speaking to the dog or to even have eye contact with it.

It was important for Jurgen to be in control, not only of his life and his dog, but to be in control of me. And changing me was essential to controlling me. He started talking about tattooing me. And he had to control what I ate, what I did and he took special pleasure out of controlling what I wore, right down to my underwear. I had no say in such matters.

One day while we were shopping at the mall, Jurgen saw a knife he wanted. It was very well made, he said. It was also expensive. It was big, and very sharp with a mean looking serrated blade. He told me to buy it for him with my credit card since I could not pay cash because he had not given me any of my money.

When we got out to the car he drove out to the back of the parking lot by the garbage bins and put his arm around my shoulders while he held the knife in front of my face with his other hand. He was very intense and had a strange look in his face as he told me how much he liked the knife. He pressed the blade against my face, then ran it along my throat. I knew he would not hurt me, at least I hoped he wouldn't. He could have killed me if he wanted. He knew that he had that power over me, which is what I think that knife was all about. I could feel my heart pounding and I was barely breathing when he moved the blade downward and I couldn't believe it when he sliced through my sweater and bra, then up through my skirt until I was sitting there in the car with all my clothes sliced away. He pressed the blade between my thighs and I remember fighting the urge to pee when I felt the cold steel down there. The whole thing was very arousing for Jurgen and he made love to me right there in the car in broad daylight. It was an awesome experience. I was surprised at how exciting it was. He made me carry the knife in my purse for him after that.

After one of those parties of the dog people, Jurgen started talking about Bone, and how the old guy really liked me, wanted to make love to me, in fact. And Jurgen thought it would be a great adventure.

I was shocked and would not even consider the idea. I told him it would never happen.

"I can't. I don't love him. He doesn't love me."

"That's the whole point," Jurgen said. "You're going to for me, because I want you to."

"I can't make love to someone I don't love."

"It's sex. It's not making love."

"Don't make me do this," I said in a begging voice. "Please. Not that."

"Do you think Diesel loves all those bitches he breeds with? He does it because I decide he will. Are you less loyal to me than the damn dog?"

Jurgen called it a favor for a friend. He said the guy had not had a woman since his divorce and he was worried that Bone was getting depressed. He wanted to give me to his friend to lift his spirits! How thoughtful.

I could tell Jurgen was annoyed with me over my prudishness. I was shocked and sickened by Jurgen's suggestion that I make love to his friend. I guess I should not have been so surprised. Bone kept eyeing me like the dirty old man that he was, and he would touch me sometimes when we were alone together. Jurgen never stopped bugging me to make love to his friend. It was probably inevitable I would give in. I always did. Jurgen had so much power over me. After a month of incessant badgering, I gave in.

The favor was rather involved. It included a four-day weekend trip to Nevada to be Bone's date at his son's wedding. The idea was to make his ex-wife jealous when she saw Bone walk into the reception with what he called a young babe. Like everything else in my life, Jurgen had choreographed everything I said and did. He had picked out my clothes, told me what to say and do. Jurgen did not go with us, but he never relinquished control. Bone drove a rusted old Chevy pickup truck that was raised up off the ground and had oversized tires. It was a struggle in my heels and short skirt just to climb into the cab. During the drive over he had his big hand on my thigh practically every mile of the trip. I was surprised that Bone's son was younger than I am by a few years and I felt all his relatives eyeing me disapprovingly. Bone introduced me as his college girl, and made me tell people about my college degree in English. I felt foolish and self conscious, but Bone was beaming with pride. Who would have thought ole Bone would have gotten himself a college girl, he told people over and over.

I played my role as Bone's girlfriend that weekend just the way Jurgen had told me to. I hung on him like an adoring groupie. I laughed at his stupid jokes and I nibbled his ear when his ex-wife was watching.

After the wedding I went with Bone to a seedy motel. I had a horrid time. I did not like it at all. But I did what Jurgen had told me. It had been more than four years since Bone had seen or touched a naked woman. He was like a starving man given a steak. He was ravenous. I understood it had nothing to do with me. He would have been just as excited for any woman. While he had me down between his legs, nuzzling, licking, kissing and sucking his penis, like I had been told to, he laid back and called Jurgen on the telephone to share with him what I was doing. I did not realize what Bone was doing until it was too late. I was ashamed and embarrassed to listen to Bone describing in the crudest terms what I was doing and what it felt like to the man I wanted to marry. I did everything Jurgen had told me too. I thought of Jurgen the whole time I was with Bone. Bone enjoyed himself and came at me two more times that night. I could not sleep. I hated myself afterward.

When I came back to my apartment I knew immediately I had made a horrible mistake. My pillow had been chewed to pieces. The apartment had been closed up while I was gone and it stank horribly of dog urine and there was a huge stain on my bed and on the carpet. It was obvious Jurgen had brought Diesel into my apartment while I was gone. He was marking his territory -- me -- with his dog. I never got the stain out and no matter how much scrubbing I did, I never got rid of the odor. It was obvious Jurgen had Diesel deliver a message.

Despite his promises that he would not hold it against me, I could tell Jurgen never trusted me again. I felt he had set a trap that I could not escape. He would have been angry if I had not let Bone make love to me, and he felt I betrayed him when I did. It was a test I was doomed to fail no matter what I did.

Jurgen could not contain his rage at me for having made love to another man. He did not seem to understand I did it for him. He had insisted. But he got violently angry at me. He called me a whore and said I had turned him into a pimp. I begged his forgiveness. I apologized over and over. It was not logical. Jurgen had almost forced me to go with Bone, but afterward he acted as though I had betrayed him. I accepted the responsibility and the blame. I had to make it up to him. If it had been any other man but Jurgen I would have left him before it ever gotten so weird, but I would have done anything for that man. It was extremely difficult after that night with Bone. My relationship with Jurgen seemed to be very precarious after that. Things were never the same between us again. There was an edge of meanness in the way Jurgen treated me. I should have left him then.

I drank more wine, smoked my Newports incessantly and smoked marijuana whenever I could. I was always a little tipsy and I started having problems at work. I was more desperate than ever to be whatever kind of woman Jurgen wanted me to be.

What was happening to me? I would look in the mirror and not recognize myself. My hair was losing its body. I was getting strung out. My eyes were red. The smoking, the stress, the drinking was all taking its toll on me physically. Jurgen was actually changing me. The things he had me doing to please him were not the things I would have ever thought I would do. I had lost control of the kind of person I was. Jurgen was in total control.

As difficult, though, as Jurgen was to please, his dog was always harder to deal with. When it wanted something, the dog just stared at me until I jumped up and got whatever it wanted: fresh water or to be let outside. It would just sit there, watching me intently, its head moving if I moved, never taking its dog eyes off me. With Jurgen's encouragement, the dog clearly regarded me as its slave. In its dog eyes, I was only there to serve its needs. Diesel regarded itself, with Jurgen's blessing, as my Alpha Dog and me as its bitch.

The dog was trained to get out of Jurgen's way if it was laying in his way, but I always had to step around the animal if it was sleeping in my path. Jurgen had trained the dog to let him walk through doors first as demonstration of his dominance over Diesel, but I was never allowed to go before the dog. I was not even allowed to turn the lights on or off in his house because Jurgen did not want the dog to think I had that sort of power. When we went anywhere in Jurgen's Jeep I had to ride in the cramped, crude back seat so that Diesel could ride in the passenger seat because the dog liked to stick its head out the window and feel the wind against its face. The message the dog was given was that I had no power over it.

I was mortified one afternoon when I went to the bank and opened my purse to have a dried dog turd rolled out on the counter in front of a grossed out teller. Jurgen just laughed. He had planted it in my purse. I found those disgusting things all over my apartment. I would find them in my bed, in my pockets. He had tucked them into my dresser drawers with my underwear and lingerie, taking away the perfumed sachets I kept with my clothes. I have always taken very good care of my clothes and love to smell nice, but Jurgen was on a campaign to make me carry a subtle smell of dog with me. I had assumed they were Diesel's, but he told me the turds were collected from the bitches' kennels. I was a bitch and he wanted me to smell like one to his precious dog! In a way, he was marking me. He said the scent would make me more acceptable to the dogs. I was not so sure.

One time Jurgen caught me offering Diesel a piece of chocolate in a pathetic attempt to make peace with the dog. He yelled at me, making the dog bark at me. He called me a "stupid cow." He made a big deal out of it, accusing me of trying to poison his dog and he made me sit there and offer the dog chocolate again and again while he taught Diesel to refuse my offer. That night after we finished making love, he gave me a pillow and a blanket and told me to sleep on the floor with the dog. I curled up under the bed while Diesel slept on the floor by his master's side of the bed. Jurgen said I was an undisciplined bitch.

There was a constant tension between me and the dog. I was allowed to water it, let it out, bring it in on its whim and pick up its turds, but the dog seemed ready to bite me if I did not behave properly. The threat of the dog turning on me gave both the dog and Jurgen authority over me in the household. There seemed to be a definite sexual edge to the way the man and his dog related to me.

Jurgen had me do chores in the kennels where the visiting bitches stayed. I could feed the bitches and clean up after them. Jurgen told me to watch them, to learn how the female dogs behaved. Diesel was quite physical with them and he usually left them exhausted and bleeding. I spent one weekend nursing and comforting one pathetic bitch that had been injured by Diesel. The poor thing bled all weekend and when it wasn't sleeping, it just whined sadly. The mating was a success, though, and Jurgen was thrilled when he was told the bitch was pregnant.

One day a friend of Jurgen's came over with his wife, to test drive a pickup truck Jurgen was selling. They were "dog people", too, and had known Jurgen for years. They had brought their dog, a big black lab to check out the truck.

I was proud of Jurgen. He looked hot that day in a black tee shirt, tight jeans, dark sun glasses and black cowboy hat. I watched the other woman flirt with him. The woman was pregnant. She was rough looking, not at all feminine. I did not feel threatened, just proud that I was Jurgen's woman.

I couldn't believe it when they told us to ride in the back of the pickup with the two dogs. The woman was at least seven months pregnant and she looked tired, but she merely shrugged and climbed up awkwardly in the back of the truck. The two dogs leaped eagerly behind her, and crowded close to her, wagging their tails and licking her face. I was surprised at the twinge of jealousy I felt at the sight of the woman affectionately petting the big dog. I was practically engaged to the dog's owner, and after four months the Rottweiler acted like it would rather bite me. I climbed into the truck and crouched down in the corner near the cab. The dogs ignored me as they crowded affectionately around the pregnant woman.

The men thought it was funny to have us riding in the back of the truck. Jurgen and the woman's husband were laughing as the driver took a turn too wide and too fast, making us slide across the truck bed. It was cold and windy. I was shivering and my lips were trembling, but the pregnant woman seemed quite content as she rode with her arms around the two big dogs. Diesel eyed me warily from his position across the truck.

We had been traveling for twenty minutes or so down the rough country roads. A sudden, sharp right turn sent me flying across the truck bed. I put my hands out to catch myself, but the momentum sent me right into Diesel. The dog yelped angrily and bit at my wrist, before the woman grabbed its collar and pulled it back, scolding the growling Rottweiler. I was stunned and yelled. The dog let go of my wrist and sat back down by the woman. It was woofing at me excitedly. I held my arm, but I was not bleeding.

The woman crossed over to my side of the truck and examined my wrist with a concerned expression.

"You are lucky he did not break the skin," she shouted over the road noises.

I just nodded, too upset to speak.

"Lady, you d better learn to get along with this dog. What did you do to make him hate you so?"

"I don't know. It has never liked me."

"Diesel's a good dog, if you give him a chance. You better learn to get along with him or find yourself a new boyfriend."

"I'd appreciate it if we did not tell Jurgen about this. It is nothing really. The dog probably thought it was being attacked. I mean the way I was thrown into him. He was just reacting."

"I don't know, lady. Jurgen might want to know. If he has an aggressive Rottweiler he really needs to do something about it before something happens, you know? For the dog's sake. He's got to think of the dog."

Her logic seemed twisted to me, but it was much like the way Jurgen's mind worked when it came to his precious Diesel I thought as I rubbed my wrist. I get bit and everyone is concerned about the dog!

"Biting puts the dog at risk," the woman said, reinforcing her lack of concern for me. I had to go away for a week to see my mom when she had her operation. Jurgen made it clear that he did not like me leaving, but I had to be with her. I have always been a good daughter. When I came back to my closed-up apartment I was stunned by the nauseating stench and mortified by the huge dark stains on the carpet, on my bedspread and even on my white terricloth robe. It was obvious that Jurgen had brought his dog to my apartment to urinate on my things to teach me a lesson. Once again, I felt "marked."

Jurgen enjoyed playing his weird games, making me and the dog fetch toys. At first it was just me and a playful game that led to me and Jurgen wrestling around, giggling on the floor as a prelude to making love. He especially liked it when I would lick the palm of his hand like a dog. The games were a relief for me because no matter how angry he was they were important to him. After my weekend with Bone he brought the dog into the games, using a toy that belonged to Diesel so it would growl and nip at me. If we got a hold of the toy together the dog would growl menacingly and bare its teeth, scaring me into releasing it. Sometimes the dog would get my slender wrist between its teeth and growl, but not bite down. I knew that dog could easily have ripped my arm off and I would go stiff with horror, waiting for Jurgen to call his dog off me.

The dog barely tolerated me when Jurgen was around and ignored me when he wasn't. There was a constant tension between me and the big animal. It clearly did not like me, regarded me as some kind of rival. In its way, the dog recognized me as a threat for Jurgen's attention.

Jurgen let the dog gnaw on my pink rubber vibrator and when it was all chewed up and wet with dog slobber, he used the dildo on me, getting off on the dog's slobber mixing with my own feminine juices. As he fucked me with that chewed up dildo, Jurgen made he say over and over that I loved his dog. I should have realized he was marking me inside and out for Diesel. At the time I was just thrilled that Jurgen was so incredibly passionate for me!

Whenever we made love. Diesel was never far away. The dog slept on the floor in Jurgen's bedroom and I always felt it was jealous of me sleeping in his master's bed. Sometimes when we made love I got the sense that Jurgen was putting on a show for the dog, positioning me for the dog to see me in a provocative or vulnerable position, to hear me moan beneath his master. It was like Jurgen was showing off in front of his dog!

As Jurgen pushed me further and further into his strange games, he helped me overcome my inhibitions with expensive wines and one night he introduced me to marijuana, which I discovered had a very strong affect on me, leaving me giddy and languid after just a few puffs on his hand-
rolled joint.

I played the games for Jurgen, to make my lover happy. And we did have fun for awhile. I thought he would stop it before anything really happened. I thought it was a game. I never objected to the dog being around because I knew how much the animal meant to Jurgen and I did not want him to think I would ever make him choose between me and the dog. I was flattered in a way that by having the dog around when Jurgen and I were intimate, that he was allowing me to share in his close relationship with his dog.

Jurgen pushed the games further and further.

One night while we were lying on the floor drinking wine, smoking marijuana and listening to music he had a silly idea and I went along. I had a bit too much wine. I was too agreeable. I couldn't really believe he would let anything happen. He was just testing me.

It started out with me lying naked on the carpet and he getting the dog to sniff my cunt and lick me. He put peanut butter on me, spreading it on my throat to get the dog to lick me there. Jurgen said I was offering the dog my throat to show I was no threat. I looked into its inhuman eyes as it watched my throat hungrily. The dog held me down, its paws on my shoulders as it lapped up the peanut butter. Jurgen then smeared the peanut butter on my chest to get the dog to lick my breasts and on my face to get the dog to "kiss" me. He spread the peanut butter on my butt and soon had the dog nuzzling and licking its wonderful tongue up the crack of my ass. I was shivering. It was intensely exciting and frightening. I had never been so close to the big dog before. I felt exposed and vulnerable. This was the most wicked thing I had ever done. I was covered with dog saliva. Jurgen was pleased. He spread the peanut butter on my cunt to get the dog to lick me energetically. The dog growled as it licked me, its warm, rough tongue getting so deep inside. I have to admit that vigorous, warm sandpaper tongue was exciting. I held myself very still while its muzzle was between my legs and it growled menacingly, but that incredible tongue would lap and lap and lap. The licking frenzy was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The dog was tireless and eager. I shuddered and Jurgen laughed as his dog brought me to an awesome orgasm. When the peanut butter was gone, Jurgen spread more on. After awhile, the dog was not interested in the peanut butter, but continued tonguing me. It was incredible, relentless and after awhile I was raw and aching from the tongue.

"He knows his way around females. He'll figure it out. Whether it's a blonde or a Rottweiler, a bitch is a bitch," Jurgen said as he watched his dog licking me, then circling my body, whining. It seemed confused, agitated.

Jurgen said something in German and the dog was suddenly on me, its forelegs tight around my waist, its hind legs digging into the carpet. It was humping frantically. I felt the length of its cock against my belly and I panicked. I screamed to get it off me.

Jurgen grabbed the dog's collar and pulled it off me, it was still straining to get to me as he pulled its heavy body away.

I had to take deep breaths to calm down. My heart was pounding out of control. We were playing a dangerous game, playing with one of the most profound taboos. The dog was agitated, growling and whining, trying to get to me. I could see its erection sticking out hard from between its rear legs. It was incredible that an animal, an alien species, could get sexually excited over me. I was scared, yet thrilled. I felt wicked.

Jurgen had no conflicting feelings. He was hot. He loved it. I wanted to make sure he understood I did it for him.

"That's what you wanted? You liked seeing that, right?" Jurgen's voice was strangely husky. I could see he was incredibly excited.

"You were beautiful. You should have seen your face when you were cumming. God, you re hot. Sometimes you need to do what you don't want to do to demonstrate love. Sometimes you have to do something that frightens you to grow as a person. You impressed me."

As he held me, I thought about what I had done, remembered how warm that dog's prick had been against my stomach. I could still feel it. Diesel had made quite an impression. I was still shaking. As wild as the dog was, I felt safe with Jurgen there. He would protect me.

Jurgen made love to me on the floor, saying it excited him to see his dog licking me like I was its bitch, that it turned him on to smell his dog on me. While Jurgen made love to me that night the dog pranced around us, whining nervously, sticking its cold nose in between us. I thought that was strange. When I went to leave at the end of the night I found my beautiful suede coat was ruined. It had been ripped and chewed, but, something far more ominous, it was reeking of dog urine. It had been marked. I was no dog psychologist, but I knew in my heart that it was very angry with me and it was sending me a message. I did not say anything to Jurgen, though. The coat had been a gift from him and I did not want him to be upset.

But Jurgen's game did not end there.

The very next time we got together he made me offer my leg to the dog to hump, which it did quite vigorously. Growling and wolfing as it did. He had been training the dog to do that before I came over.

And it did not end there.

While we were cuddling on the floor, sipping wine and smoking marijuana on our next Saturday night date Jurgen called his dog and commanded Diesel to lay down next to us. Jurgen had waited until I was really high on the marijuana and he had the dog roll over on its back, exposing its belly, which Jurgen said the dog would never do for anyone else. The dog watched me as Jurgen had me lean over and look at the dog's thing. It started out innocently enough with me tickling and rubbing the dog's belly. The dog liked that, whining and growling softly as my hand gave it a soothing belly rub.

Jurgen told me to touch the dog's penis. "Just touch it," he insisted. "See what happens." I did. The dog was on its back, its hind legs splayed as I put my finger down there timidly, gently stroking its hairy sheath. Jurgen closed my hand down over the hairy sheath and made me stroke it. His voice was hoarse. I could tell he was really getting into this. It was a very intense moment. My heart was beating wildly. I was afraid the dog would bite. "Now kiss it!" Like Diesel, I was trained to obey him. I had several glasses of wine and I was pretty high on marijuana. Nothing seemed real. I was giddy and stupid from the joints he had me smoke. I was giggling. Soon my face was between the dog's furry hind legs, inches away from its penis. I stuck my tongue out and gingerly licked it, then with Jurgen's hand pushing on the back of my head, I gave it a kiss.