***
“Hey.” Amy recognized the voice of her handler and braced herself for another hard yank on her leash. It didn’t come, and she fuzzily realized that he wasn’t talking to her at all but to the man in the lead, the one carrying the shotgun. Weary and miserable, she almost walked into the back of her handler before she saw that he’d halted. She tottered to a stop half a step behind him and waited. All she could do was wait, and fight the urge to sink down onto the cold, hard ground to rest. They hadn’t told her that she could do that.
“Hey what?” the man in the lead stopped and turned around.
“I think our new pet is getting tired.” Amy’s handler half-turned to look at her. He looked her up and down, slowly and thoroughly. Amy kept her eyes fixed on the ground. She was tired almost beyond imagining, but they hadn’t asked her anything so she was afraid to say anything.
“So what?” called out the man bringing up the rear.
“So how ‘bout we give her a little rest…and a little more water?”
Water sounded good, but there was something about the way her handler had said it that made Amy shudder inwardly. She felt his free hand groping at her breasts and fought back an outward shudder.
“I’m keepin’ my water for myself,” the point man said.
“That stream’s clean and safe.” Amy’s handler pointed. Amy risked a glance in the direction he was pointing. Up ahead, just beyond where the point man had stopped, she could see another one of the little streams they’d kept crossing over. Water trickled over and around exposed rocks. The point man looked at the stream and then back.
“So what?” he asked.
“C’mon,” Amy’s handler chuckled, rattling the chain. The links, cold and hard, brushed Amy’s n*****s. “Don’t you want a turn?”
The point man seemed to think about it for a moment. Amy could feel his eyes crawling all over her bare flesh. “Well, Hell, why not?” he finally said.
“Because we’ll be late,” the trail man objected as he came up.
“We’re gonna be late anyway,” Amy’s handler pointed out. He shook the chain again, and Amy whimpered. “What’s a couple more minutes matter?” He chuckled nastily, his free hand back at Amy’s breasts. “You won’t regret it. She ain’t trained yet, but she’s got some talent.”
“All right,” the point man shrugged. “Bring ‘er on over.”
“Come on, b***h,” Amy’s handler took a grip on her leash just short of where the padlock fastened the chain around her neck. “I think you know the drill.”