The Dominant Male

she raised her forepaws and begged, as though her life depended on it.
    Minima, who’d initially shown her obvious disgust, realised her options were very limited, and the likely result of refusal, and did the same.
    Rodney looked on, amused. ‘There you are, tuck in!’
    They both obediently bent down and ate. Actually it wasn’t too bad. The bowls weren’t too deep and slope-sided, so she ate it all greedily, realising she’d actually been quite hungry.
    She realised as she finished that she’d got grease and food all over her face from her nose to her chin. Her first thought was to drink, but instead she wiped her face on her shoulder, then licked it clean, and repeated it on the other shoulder, then sipped from the water bowl.
    She straightened herself up to the ‘Sit!’ position. Minima was still eating. When she finished she went straight to the water bowl for a drink, fouling the water.
    ‘No, bad girl!’
    He took her water bowl and changed it.
    He took Elizabeth’s licked-clean food bowl and put it down. There was a chocolate truffle in the middle on a bed of chocolate sauce.
    She didn’t move until his, ‘Eat!’
    She bent down, delicately took the chocolate and swallowed it. Then she licked up the messy chocolate sauce. Then she cleaned her lips on her shoulder as before, licked her shoulder clean, and then drank.
    Minima nodded as she sat.
    Rodney then clipped their leads on and led them out to the dining room, handing Elizabeth’s to Timothy. There were Timothy and Rodney, Laura and Gordon, dressed for a country walk.
    They went to the back door and out. This time the two bitches were led to the back of the car. When the door was opened, she saw the third row of seats was folded down, and there was a dog guard behind the second row.
    She felt a slap on her rump – ‘Up!’ and she lifted her forepaws onto the sill, bounced on her toes in the hind-doggy paws, and fell into the car boot.
    Minima wasn’t quite as nimble and had to be lifted in.
    The others climbed in and they drove off. Not far, maybe twenty minutes, before parking. She saw from her position below the level of the windows (she was still too shy to raise her head) that they had parked in a shop car park. The others got out and walked away.
    Alarmed, she sneaked a peek out. The car was in the far corner of the car park, away from everyone else. The shop was called ‘Farmer’s Supermarket’.
    It felt like an age before they came back, as the two girls cuddled for warmth and reassurance, but probably it was less than half an hour.
    They drove off, not far, maybe another half an hour, until the car started lurching and she realised they were probably driving off-road. The car stopped and someone got out. They drove a bit further and whoever had got out got back in again. Then more rough track.
    A locked gate? she wondered
    Finally they stopped. The passengers got out and Timothy opened the door, and clipped on her lead. It was soft grass, so she measured the distance and tried to leap out, four-footed. She fell out in a tangled mess, catching a foot quite painfully on the car tow-bar.
    Minima wasn’t so brave and sat on the edge, whimpering.
    Exasperated, Rodney picked her up with a hand under her left shoulder, and one between her legs on the pubis.
    ‘Sit!’ both Timothy and Rodney commanded.
    The bitches did.
    Chuckling, they were each shown an engraved dog tag. Hers said:
    TIMOTHY’S
BITCH
WILLY
    On the other side, it gave his phone number and email address. Minima’s was similar:
    RODNEY’S
BITCH
TITTY
    Rodney’s phone number and email address were given on the other side in the same way.
    Why did I pick William for my name as schoolboy? she wondered. I couldn’t have known this would be the result , she rationalised. But now I have to answer to ‘Willy’ , she realised, despairingly. ‘They’ll love that!’
    The tags were attached to their collars and they walked off, the bitches walking to heel with their respective Masters.
    The people were wearing warm wool and tweed and she expected to be cold, but soon realised that walking on all fours, the way their Masters insisted – forelegs straight, hind legs slanting diagonally, bum high in the air, walking on dog-paw toes – was actually very hard work – on her legs, arms (forelegs?), belly, hips and shoulders, especially at the pace they demanded.
    The path underfoot was gravelled, so she was glad of the protection the paws afforded.
    After perhaps a mile,