Sunday, December 27, 2009
Still - pup's been such a good boy, and being good can be so dull!! i'm hoping to be able to forget it all for a few hours with my Handler at the Gear party on the 30th (http://www.gearbristol.co.uk/); Maybe i might see you there...? ;))
Friday, December 11, 2009
Last night was the Seth Lakeman concert at the Town Hall (a young, cornish Folk-singer and demon-fidler - with stunningly dark cornish looks and a way with the crowd that's almost pure rock-star. Both His bearish double base player and red-headed banjo backup weren't bad either... ;) ).
Kiiii-Yipp!!! what a night of stomping and jumping, hollering and dancing - thank god i wore my big Wescos, or i'd have been trampled under foot...!
Thanks Seth and the band - *another* amazing night; no wonder you enjoy playing Cheltenham so much when you get that kind of response!
Monday, December 07, 2009
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Hello dog! - I thought my dog might like to read what other men have been saying to it's Man about our last visit to the Hoist. I think that dog might remember C__ - he was the cute guy in rubber and waders on the balcony, who was playing with you whilst your Master and A__ chatted and watched:
It was very nice seeing you at the Hoist the other weekend - did you have fun?
C__ was very taken with your dog (he confessed he had to stop and convince himself that there was a man inside that rubber dog)...
Oh we had a great time thanks - could not have failed to as I had my dog with me and we always have fun together - and indeed we like to share that fun with others too.
He will be pleased at your comments from C__ and I forwarded your message on to him.
It was great arriving at the club in the car and opening the back to let the dog out - tail-plugged and hooded and ready to play. I walked him into the club on all fours, and then made him sit by the billiard table while I went back to park the car. There he was, keenly waiting for me when I returned. He later told me (when he was back on 2-legs and allowed to speak) what a good response he had recieved from the other members while I was away: guys passing by giving him a freindly pat on the head, commenting to each other about the cute puppy waiting for it's Master etc etc.
I enjoy walking out with my dog so much . . . .
Aw Sir - the dog read that message with a lump in it's throat (and another in it's trousers ;) ). It means so much to Your pup to hear You say such things to other Men, Sir - and to know how much You enjoy Your dog's company.
It is also *fantastic* to read that your Friends had to work so hard to remember that i was a man in a rubber-suit, and not just a real dog. That makes me *very* proud because it means i was so deep in pup-space, and acting so naturally, that all they could really see was just that: an eager and devoted dog, happy to be out for walks with it's Master.
And when i am with you, Sir, i *am* a dog - YOUR dog - and that's all i could ever wish to be.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
It was a shame about the weather being so bad - Handler felt it was too gusty and dangerous to take the bike, so we had to drive down - M4, bad weather, Friday night - not the best idea perhaps: it took nearly 5 hours to get there, and the dog felt *genuinely* guilty at it's Man having to do so much driving, at the end of a busy shift...! :(
Still - the dog *loved* the parade on Saturday - despite the gales and rain: standing in the rain in it's damp leathers, protected from the worst of the gales by it's Man's strong warm body at it's back - both of us bobbing and foot stomping to the marching bands (and the dog eyeing up all those shining riding boots and stern-faced mounted Huzzars...!); the RAF guys in their branded leathers where kinda sexy too...!
Then heading for a pizza to warm up - Handler giving the dog a playful cuff when He caught it all puppy-eyed and gazing at Him with devotion across the restaurant table (and greedily watching Him down another pint of lemonade...)
Shame that they cancelled the fireworks - but it was fun donning my 'Art Librarian' hat and dragging my Handler around Tate Modern instead... The deep, womb-like Unilever installation by Miroslaw Balka was an interesting experience - especially standing at the end in the velvet dark-room blackness, wrapped in my Handler's warming arms, watching with dark-adapted eyes whilst the plebs shuffled and squeeled and blindly bumped into each other...
And then all those *other* moments - with my Man as His devoted rubber-dog and faithful k9 companion...
Shamelessly singing and howling along to Abba on the car stereo, whilst Handler shook His head in disbelief... Snuggled up warm under the duvet after the parade - not wanting to be a tease, but also somehow unable to fight it's natural desire to wriggle and squirm and grind it's hole back onto it's Man - despite the relentless 'trouble' that always seemed to result... Dozing and waking to find myself still wrapped safe in His sleeping arms, with His meat still burried deep in my pup-hole... Sat astride Him on the bed, rubbered and sweat-slick after the club, muzzle burried and wuffing into His pits as it helplessly humped it's dog-cock into His belly and smeared it's dog-spunk into His pelt... Stopping at the nighttime Service Station, climbing out of the car to quietly kneel in the dark whilst He emptied His lemon-tanged piss into my waiting throat...
'Transforming' in the hatch-back boot of the car on our way to the Hoist on the Saturday night: climbing in as a man at one end, and trotting out as a fully-formed rubber-dog at the other...
WUUFF!! it was amazing to be able to experience arriving at the Hoist as a proper rubberdog like that - i even got to pad along the pavement and into the club on all fours, fully muzzled and collared and tailed so that everyone from doorman to waiting members saw and reacted to me as nothing more than my Handler's pet dog for the whole night... it felt mean to wait whilst He went to park the car, but amazing to see how everyone quietly left me were my Handler had collared me and told me to "STAY!" - each new guy just giving the odd passing pat on my hooded head, or a 'sweet puppy!' comment...
Sir, Your dog is pleased and proud that You had so many compliments: it always feels so good to be so naturally and simply Your obedient dog that Men comment on our 'Man-and-dog bond' like that - it lets me know that i am doing You proud, and being simply myself, Your dog - as i should be...
And as for the greedy, envious (and sometimes disaproving) looks that we got when the dog quietly knelt and took Your piss, and then deep-throated You without comment or complaint - just Your hand gently letting it know how long and how deep it should go... or the guy who was fascinated watching the dog as it spent hours of quietly focused mouthing and licking, keeping it's Master happy and hard - but who was then so incredulous that it could do so and not 'be drugged out of it's brain!' (i ask - what dog needs chemical stimulants when it has it's Man and His scent and taste?!?). Well - those looks and comments were equally as pleasant to the dog, and made it feel Proud to be able to demonstrate it's training and devotion...
So - thank You for another wonderful weekend Sir - for giving us *both* time away from the humdrum and stress of work and our mortgaged-lives... Thank You for proudly displaying Your dog to Your friends - and for letting the dog wear Your collar for all to see.
Thank You, Sir, for telling the dog that You genuinely enjoy it's company - whether as simply a fuck-toy, Your rubber-dog, or faithfully friendly companion. You make me feel better than anything else in my life right now - and for that i am, and always will be:
YOUR dog - bootbrush
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
It's funny - many people see a pup and think that they are being degraded or humiliated by their role. They often see the play in terms of BDSM and humiliation scenes - that the pup is being *made* to act like a dog, or is being treated *as though* it were an animal; that it has been 'de-humanised' and turned into a beast...
But for pups like me, that's not fully the case. Our pup-hood is a voluntary and gleefully embraced identity. i'm not forced to be an animal, since i already know that i *am* an animal (we all are!). Culture, Society, life - they are all good things, but they do sometimes wall us in behind Expectations and Social morays, Deadlines and Analysis - they distance us from our very real and very natural mammalian selves - and it's needs and desires.
Being pup allows me to re-embrace that self - and so i thankfully kneel to accept my Handler's collar anew every time. That collar does not remove me from myself or rob me of my humanity: it allows me to pull inwards from the distractions and busy-ness of my ordinary life, and to embrace a deeper, more focused and emotionally freer state. i let go of distractions, let go of thinking and rationalising - and simply let HIM become my prime focus.
On one level, it *is* very like Zen. No-one would ever think to suggest a monk dehumanises himself through taking the robe; robe or collar - we both remove distractions and focus ourselves on a simpler life led for the glory of another...
Monday, November 16, 2009
Despite gales and lashing rain, we still managed to make it up for the Lord Mayor's Show. No bike this time (that would have been suicide!) - which meant the most horrendous drive in: how does *anyone* live in London and not abandon 4 wheels for 2?!?!
Still, the parade was fun, despite traffic jams and parking nightmares - and the dog certainly enjoyed all the stirring marching bands (and all those stern-faced mounted Horseguards and their shiney big black boots...!!!)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
And then, a simple message on Recon from my Handler:
"Just saying good morning to My dog!"
the whole day turns around: i know my Man is thinking of His pup - which in turn wakes the pup inside of me - and i can feel my tail wag and the grin spread on my face like the sun bursting out of the clouds!
Sometimes we really *do* over-complicate our lives, don't we? We let our well-being become blighted by phantoms and fears of what may be (and even fantasies of what we might think we desire...) - we become so overwhelmed by the mess in our heads that we forget the *real* stuff: the steady beat of your heart, the breath in your lungs - the knowledge that you are loved and thought well of by those who *matter*. When you are reminded to live in *that* reality, all the phantoms fade into fluttering shadows...
And so - thank you Sir: for that inconsequential little message - it reminded me of what is important - and *genuinely* made Your dog's day!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Imagining this rubber-clad Master - and myself bound and restrained within His lair: IV in my arm, pumping a coctail of pyshotropics and steroids into my bloodstream - my head encased in a VR helmet that pumps porn and subliminal messages into my seething brain... The drugs and the hypnosis and the perverse desire bluring the edge between reality and fantasy, humanity and porn - makin me trip my face off...
Losing myself to the trip - to the voice and the rubber - drooling into the hood and staring with blank empty eyes as it all pumps deeper and deeper into me, pushes me further and further from any sense of reality or self or humanity - filling my brain with only lust and dependent need.
Feeling the rubber come alive - squirming over my helpless writhing body, seeping through the pores, worming into my mouth and arse and piss-slit - pulsing into every cavity, filling me up... my body throbbing with pain and perverse hunger - eyes covered, glossed over, blank and empty - mouth stretched in a scream, as the rubber-tide rises up and over my lips, down my throat. My whole face becoming an unrecognisable blob of rubber that moves and ripples - layer after layer coating limbs become so heavy and stiff - mounding and molding with rubberised muscle until it looks like some roided muscle-monster - the mind within assaulted on every side - programmed deeper and deeper into pure and empty service for the Man who sits behind the console and controls the whole process - who moves in the shadows, greedily watching my dehumanisation and hybridisation into an object, a mindless rubberslave dependent on Him, obedient to Him - addicted only to the pure bliss of HIS pleasure...
Mutated into a rubber-encased object - a tireless rubber-toy devoted only to the pleasure of the perverted mind that has taken and transformed me - utterly removed from humanity: no identity, no history, no face but the rubber that encases it and transforms it into a dehumanised object for it's Master's pleasure...
The rubber-creature finally released from it's bonds - so utterly changed that it has regressed to a worm-like state: it's face a simple smooth curve of rubber - no visible eyes or nose or features - it's throat a slick rippling tube in the center, ready and eager to be filled and fucked and pissed into. Body pumped and swollen within the rubber - devoid of humanity, warped by the rubber and it's service into that of a worm that lives only to satisfy it's Master's primal urges: a warm, soft, slick, wet hole, nothing more - the perfect rubber fuck-tube for the Master to dump His fluids into - greedily sucking with grunts and squeels and animal sounds - incapable of anything but greedy worship of the master who has abused and warped it's body and mind to His service...
Lost in the fear and perversity of that thought: finally and completely become nothing more than an object - my Master's kinky possession, devoid of any humanity or consiousness. Used for His pleasure, then stored away with His gear - hung up amidst His leather and rubber - connected to pumps and pipes that sustain it's limited rubberised life - mute, blind, senseless - aware of nothing but the vague passing of time before it is taken out again to be pumped and fucked and used once more...
(An expanded version of this story is now up on www.panskin.co.uk)
Monday, October 05, 2009
- the gleam of His leather and the flash of sunlight on chrome - the sight of the bike through the trees when i kneel waiting for Him to return...
- the *sound* of Him: the creak of His leather one-piece and the sound of the zipper as it pulls down - the crunch of gravel and ivy beneath His boot, and the rustle of leaves in the woods around us - the sound of my own laboured breathing and the squeak as my leather meets His...
- the *scent* of Him: the heady overwhelming mix of leather and musk - burying my muzzle into His chest, nuzzling for His nips - hearing Him grunt, then feeling His gloved hand guide me inside the suit - push my face and tongue into His pits - losing myself as His voice growls 'take a deep breath boy; get your man's scent!'
- the *taste* of Him: salt from His sweat - musk and leather - my face wet, lost in His smell and the pure puppish joy of nuzzling into Him, smelling Him, letting His scent awake the dog inside me...
- the *feel* of my own leather bike gear, tight and protective - beneath it, the even tighter rubber - holding me, containing me - body slick with lube and sweat - my dog-cock encased within the pouch-shorts: aroused, encased, constrained - slick and tight within a pool of my own juices - grinding down through the gear onto His boot...
- tongue wet, mouth hungry - looking up at Him with hungry animal eyes - lost in the leather and Masculinity and Power that flows from Him;
- seeing Him looking down at His dog - hunger and Pride in His eyes to see His dog at His boots - feel it grinding it's cock and balls into His leather in helpless arousal - hear it's moans and wuffs - knows it's begging Him, knows what it wants and needs...
- watching with hunger as He pulls down the zipper - the flash of His red 'Bike' jock - gloved hands reaching in, drawing out His meat - the overwhelming urge to lunge and lick and nuzzle - but being a 'good dog' - waiting.
- His hand pulling on the leash and my collar - telling me to show Him my doggy-tongue...
- panting, tongue dripping, mouth wide and throat open - eyes fixed on His as His gloved hand guides me - holds my head - tells me to be still: 'no playing with it boy - just hold it there in your mouth - wait...'
- feeling Him brace himself - knowing what's going to come - knowing i've already begged Him for this - to teach me how...
- and then: the first hot gush of my Man's piss - filling my mouth, washing down my throat: hot, salt and bitter - desperately gulping, pushing forward - feeling it hitting the back of my throat, wanting to be filled by Him - taking His juices, His piss...
- gulping it down like a good dog - wanting to make Him proud - show Him what a good dog i can be - what a pervert-dog i am for Him...
- a shudder passing through my rubbered, kneeling body at those words in my head: 'pervert - dog' - coursing through me to twitch and fire in my plugged hole.
- His piss coming in pulses - knowing He is trying to control Himself: not wanting to drown His dog, or make it choke - making Him proud: gulping it down like a good piggy-pup - knowing He can feel my throat and tongue pulsing as i do...
- feeling my muzzle and throat become slick and wet, steeped in His juices - feeling Him coming to the end: knowing He's emptied His bladder into His dog - feeling it hot and full in my stomach - taste it bitter and strong in my mouth - feel Him getting hard now - know i can mouth it now, play with it, lick it...
- i push myself down onto Him - feel Him slide down my throat: piss-slick and thick with pre-cum - feel Him shudder and hear Him grunt as His head pushes past my tonsils, down deep into my dog-throat...
- nose against His belly, balls against my chin - feeling Him fill me - gagged with Him: breathless, stopped-up, plugged both ends - but wanting to feel Him even deeper - make Him follow His own piss down deep into my soul...
- my arms wrapped round His legs, hands grasping His thighs - pulling Him into Me - feeling Him clench and flex as He starts to thrust: as He gives Himself over to the pleasure of fucking His dog's throat;
- timing my breathing with the rhythm of His arousal - slipping into pure pup-space: lost in time, to thought - nothing now but this moment, this feeling: given to His pleasure - wanting it to never end: to be His dog, here, forever - nothing more.
- He pulls out - i whimper - but He tells me to lick my spit from His balls - and i give myself over to it with equal fervour.
- He strokes the back of my head, covers my eyes and nose with His gloves - gives me the heady smell of new Damascus leather to compliment the salt of His flesh...
- i lick and nuzzle, breathe and whine, grind and hump - lost in the pleasure of giving *HIM* pleasure - hearing Him croon and growl - feeling Him stroke His meat - knowing how randy it makes Him when His dog grooms His balls with it's tongue...
- and then He stills my head with His hand - again, tells me to hold still: 'show me your tongue boy'
- i rock back onto booted heels - tongue and throat open - face wet with piss and spit - my eyes burn into His as He rests His meat on my tongue - makes me wait a moment - feel it hard and wet and ready - feel Him braced, resisting His own need for a second - teasing his dog, making it wait for the command:
- 'good boy! - now: suck out your Man's cum!'
- My lips clamp around His shaft, and my throat flutters around His head - i curl my tongue back to flick the underside - and feel Him shudder and tense...
- and then His hands grab my head - hips thrust himself deep into my throat - and i feel Him: hot, pulsing, thick and powerful - pumping deep into me, down into His dog - filling it with His cum like He has already filled it with piss - pulsing, grinding, pumping - i can't breath, i see stars and my vision tunnels - but i give it *all* to Him, *for* HIM - for His pleasure, His need - HIS satisfaction.
- It seems like an age - i am lost in the pure pleasure of *HIS* Pleasure - ride the waves of His passion... slowly i feel Him start to calm: His hands release my head - let me take a breath; i hear His own breath shudder inside His chest...
- i feel His hands stroke my head, rub my ears - tell me what a 'good dog!' i am - His meat still wet and hard in my gentle mouth - i wrap my arms around His leg, give a muffled whine and wuff! - trying to express my thanks, my pleasure at having Served Him...
- He lets me lick Him clean - bathe His balls in my spit again - He takes a moment's pleasure in His dog's attention... then tells it to 'leave!' as He re-dresses and pulls up the zipper...
- i slowly become aware again of our surroundings: of the branches and leaves - the sound of the road the other side of the trees - the bike ticking as it's engine cools...
- He grins at me - at His dog on it's knees, piss filled and cum-drenched - reaches down and grabs my collar in His hand - pulls me up onto my hind-legs - drags my mouth to His - wraps His arms around me in a crushing hug and sucks the breath from my lungs in a kiss filled with passion and Pride...
- i grin back with pleasure, can't help but hump and grind into His leather as His hands ride round to grab my leathered butt, and gives the plug there a push - i give an excited 'WUUFF!' at His laugh and his pride-filled: 'pervert dog!'
And then - like the good dog i am - i follow my Master back through the road-side woods to His bike - watch as He pulls on the helmet, and then pats the seat behind Him; obedient, i swing up and settle carefully down (careful of my plug and rubber-shorts - still wet and slick with unshed arousal)... i give a happy bark in answer to His 'Home, pup!' - and another at the feel of His gloved hand reaching round to pat the back of my thigh where it grips His.
There is a distracting taste of piss and cum in mouth - and a *GRIN* on my face - for the whole ride back.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
(All work on display by Jo Harrison, Modern Body Art, Birmingham UK)
Saturday, September 19, 2009
- the dog all packed and leathered and booted and waiting for it's Man to come pick it up - and the thrill and kick it feels when it hears the deep purr of it's Man's silver steed coming down the road...
- the sight of Him swinging those long legs off the Pan-European, shining leather glowing and the steel plates of His AlpineStar's glinting... watching with dry mouth from the door as He strides up the gravel path, stripping the gloves from His hands and pulling the black helmet from His head - so that the dog gets it's first view of that familiar bearded smiling face...
- the grin that spreads over it's own face as He growls "Hello, dog!" and reaches a hand to ruffle my hair - as the dog wraps it's arms around Him and let it's head bump His chest. The pure wash of friendship and devotion, security and surrender it feels from just that smallest of welcoming acts...
- Handler and partner chatting whilst the dog scampers off to make tea - then sits quiet and obedient (but grinning) at their feet; feeling how lucky it is to have two such Men in it's life - and to have both be such friends.
- Hearing the genuine honesty in it's Handler's voice when He tells my partner: "Thank you for letting me walk the dog this weekend"
- The pure bliss of being astride the bike, pillion to my Handler: His broad leathered back before me, the thrumming metal beneath me, and the open road stretched out in front of us. The sun warm on my leathers, the glass plug inside me vibrating to the rhythm of the cylinders, my Handler's voice clear and deep over the intercom - and the feel of His gloved hand when He occasionally reaches back to stroke under my thigh (knowing it will make me huff and shudder, reach around and hug Him tight in puppish-devotion)
- Catching sight of our reflection in the cars and shop windows as we passed - the shining chrome, the glowing leather - and me: so small behind You, yet still grinning at the 'bootbrush' emblazoned along my thighs and across my back - and the "My horney fuck-dog" lettering on the side of my helmet...
- Stopping at the services for a 'stretch of the legs' - waiting obedient and patient by the bike, guarding the bags: proud in my branded leathers and the sun glinting from the padlock and chain around my neck...
- The grin on my face when the sweet old lesbian-biker pulled in beside us, looked at my collar and asked: "Is that jewelry - or a sign of his status...?"
- The even *bigger* grin on my face when You told her "No, he's not a slave - this is my dog" (and fed me dog-sweets, which i licked from Your gloved hand with a happy 'wuff!')
- The sight of the red-tailed kites as they circled above us as we headed into London...
- Later in the evening, back on the bike and heading for Backstreet through the center of London: my leathers exchanged for my one-piece rubber-suit - heavily lubed inside and polished to a shine - booted and gloved and now wearing an open-faced helmet with dog-ears: my rubber dog-hood and muzzle out for all to see... barking and startling people at traffic lights - having children pointing and staring out of the back-windows from cars as we passed - driving a whole *bus-full* of kids mad as we rode alongside them: all with their cameras and mobile phones, laughing and waving and thinking it was some kind of stunt...
- Spending the entire night then as pure pup - Your rubber-dog; sitting at Your feet at the bar whilst You chat with friends, trotting beside You on all fours when You walk around, being let off the leash to go sniff at new boots or beg for a stroke from a friendly stranger - and noting (in some quiet part of me where i am still human - still able to 'think') how different everyone treats me this time - how completely and unquestioningly they see me as purely and*only* just a sweet and friendly pup: Your dog, Your pet.
- Grinning in my hood when guys follow my wagging tail back to You - to ask about the dog, and 'how long You have owned him?', and 'how well is he trained?'
- Loving the look on their faces when you hand them sweets from Your 'doggy-bag' - so they can hand-feed the dog too...
- Their envy as they watch the single-minded devotion a dog can give to it's Man - and it's unquestioning desire to simply give Him pure pleasure and release.
- The pure bliss of sitting - mouth wide and tongue wet but quiet - an obedient eager piss-pup ready to take my Man's juices...
- The sound of Pride in Your voice when You tell Your dog what a good dog it's been - and how pleased You are to have it as Your pup.
- Sleeping safe in my Master's arms
- the feel of Your pelt against my back, Your sleeping breath warm against my neck - Your arms around me, one hand holding my collar in a gentle fist - knowing i am safe, protected - but also owned and controlled...
- Waking in the morning - being allowed to rest a head on Your chest, told to nuzzle up into Your fur and manliness - lose myself in the scent and the taste of my Man... losing myself in the pure puppish-pleasure of turning my Man on...
- The inexpressible pleasure and intensity of giving myself to You - to Your pleasure. Of knowing i am *YOURS* - balls to bone.
- Feeling Your need for release - Your need to lose Yourself in the passion and power of Your own hunger... And yet, still hearing You whisper: "don't let me hurt You, dog - you are too precious...!"
- Out for lunch or dinner - the picture of polite company - yet still with the collar bright and Proud on my neck;
- Seeing Your grin as i charm and befriend those we meet - and make them forget their prejudices and fears...
- The sad 'last night' - and the big whining hug before setting off in the morning - packing away the pup-gear for another few weeks, but still - knowing that no matter how brief, we share something that few ever have at all...
- whizzing past stationary traffic as we headed back through Oxford - and the pure pleasure of being on two-wheels again.
- Stopping at the services - You walking into the copse for a piss - and Your silent look as the dog sank to it's knees before You unbidden - eyes hungry and mouth wet
- Holding my mouth and tongue quiet, with You warm and full inside me - looking up at You looking down at me - feeling so completely in my place, and so perfect being there;
- The feel of You struggling *not* to simply let go: drown and drench the dog and it's leathers and be damned...!
- The world and the sound of the motor-way - everything fading away - just You and me in that moment: the dog quietly taking it's Man and it's Man giving Himself to His dog...
- The grin on my face and the look on Yours when we got back to the bike...
- the sweet salt taste of You in my mouth for the rest of the ride home...
- The way that moment just seemed to sum up how it feels to be Your's Sir: perversity and pleasure, playfulness and passion, breaking taboos and yet being perfectly natural and free...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The dog has never seen so many bikes (and bikers) in one place before - Handler had warned the pup on the ride down, but they were literally everywhere: parked on the pavements and traffic islands, queued 20 deep at every junction and traffic light, filling the town with sound and chrome and leather - it was utterly amazing - and that was even before we got to the sea-front and found 3,000 parked 5 deep along the whole 3 mile stretch!
Best of all was being able to walk through the crowds at my Man's side - He resplendent in His leathers and Steel-plate AlpineStars, His dog in it's branded 'bootbrush' leathers and t'shirt - collar and padlock and leash proudly displayed and a grin on it's face for the incredulous look from every fucked-up het (and an even bigger one for those who saw and knew and nodded...)
Thank You Sir - it was a fantastic day that topped a perfect weekend - even if the dog was sore in all the right places after 6 hours in the saddle....!
(and thank *you* Geoff for letting me go, even though it *was* our anniversary ;) )
(and, sorry BrightonBoss, Sir, for not getting our shit together to meet up like we'd originally planned :( )
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
My shoulders ache, and i pull against the chains to try and stretch them - there is just enough give to get a little relief, but every move just makes the rubber slick across my skin, and the sweat to drip and stain the wooden floor beneath my plugged arse... And so i settle back into position, chained and waiting for my Master's pleasure: my dog collar padlocked to a yard-chain, rubber-encased, kneeling in my waders, arms stretched wide and exposed: restrained, controlled, waiting like a good dog for my Man to return...
My ears prick at the sound of boots on the gravel path outside - my heart beats faster and i give an instinctive whine - then a bark in reply to the chuckle i hear as HE steps into the shed - everything is forgotten at the sight of Him: my Handler, my Master, my Man.
Desert camos encase tall firm legs, pushed into turned-down Century waders that match the dog's own - an olive green T sets of His natural tan, and allows the thick pelt of His chest to show through at the neck - strong arms and firm hands, pits free so the dog can catch the scent and musk of Him - a thick beard and cropped hair - and eyes that stare down at His dog with a mixture of possession and ownership, passion and care.
He stands just out of reach, and i strain against the chains towards Him - staring up at Him with devotion and hunger and need - try to bark and whine past the choking chain that keeps me from Him - pull against my collar until my vision tunnels and i fear i will pass out. i can't help myself - the dog in me is too strong, and the dog needs it's Man...
But He takes pity on His dog, and steps closer - lets the dog get it's face to Him, bury it's muzzle in Him - it whines and barks in pleasure as He strokes it's head and says those words that mean *everything*:
"Good dog! - good dog, bootbrush!"
i tilt my head up, tongue and muzzle still licking and nuzzling - stare up into His eyes and let Him see the devotion and obsession, surrender and hunger that fills me - that makes me His dog, His pup, His boy - His bootbrush... nuzzle and lick and strain once more - trying to show Him how much the dog needs Him...
"OK boy - your Man knows what His dog wants..."
He steps back a little - fixes His dog with a look of Command from under His brows that always sends shudders through it from balls to bone. One hand unbuckles the thick leather belt, slowly reveals His pelted stomach and the top of His bike jock - i strain harder against the collar, choke and grunt and curse the chains that keep me from lunging for Him in hunger. He laughs - and pulls the jock down - lets the top of His meat show:
"This is what my dog wants, isn't it, boy...?"
i bark and whine - tongue panting and drooling - splattering the wooden floor to match the pools of sweat that drip from my suit... He stands there: full, thick, ready - teasing His helpless dog as it strains to reach Him, please Him...
"OK boy - let me see your tongue!"
He steps closer - into range - but i know i must obey. i settle back on my heels tilt my head back and let my tongue loll open and wet - stare up at Him with my tongue dripping and both throat and mind open to Him.
"Good boy! - now, lick your Man's balls"
Just as i know He likes it: i go to work with my long wet dog-tongue: long, slow licks - encircling His balls with my tongue, coating them in dog-drool, letting my beard and tasche graze the side of His meat - working up His juices and letting myself become utterly absorbed - totally lost in the task - the smell and the taste of Him taking me down further, deeper into pup-space, more purely and perfectly only a dog - HIS dog.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Monday, August 03, 2009
He wasn't unique - i get a *lot* of Tops who contact me thinking there is little sexier than having a boy encased, transformed, dehumanised, reprogrammed and enslaved - and living on all fours as their pet dog-boy for the rest of their lives - and who could blame them, it's one hell of a fantasy!!!
However, life ain't fantasy - and there are a few things any prospective Owner could usefully bear in mind regarding the safety and wellfare of His new pup...:
- Long term encasement is stressful - physically, emotionally and mentally;
Sure, it's a sexy thought to have a rubber-encased dog - but his skin can't breathe under all that rubber: sweat, salts and bacteria build up under there, and cause pressure sores and ulcers surprisingly quickly. i'm a pervert, and have built up my exposure to rubber-encasement over time - even so, the longest i've managed continually in rubber was about 24 hours...
- Being on all fours is stressful - physically, emotionally and mentally;
Like it or not, we've evolved to be on two-legs - even those who *know* they are pups. Being on all fours puts strain on the lower back, shoulders and neck - not to mention pressure on the knees and wrists. Good quality knee pads and mitts will help reduce this - but still, *some* time up on 2-legs is essential - whether your pup wants it or not!
- Being a dog can be stressful - physically, emotionally and mentally;
i know that all pups say how freeing and perfect being a pup can be - but still, long term it *can* be stressful: there is frustration at not being able to express yourself fully, discomfort in being restricted in your movements - hell, you even get bored being kept in the cage with nothing but a chew-toy for company!
But even moreso: being a pup puts you in a deeply dependant emotional space: your *world* revolves around your Handler/Owner and their pleasure; that's bliss when They are there and you make them proud - but it's more painful than anything you've ever experienced when they have to go away - even for a little while...!
And off course - as the owner of a dehumanised but utterly devoted rubber-dog:
- *OWNING* a pup can be stressful - physically, emotionally and mentally!;
When you take on a dog, you take on the responsibility of looking after that dog - here in the UK, you even need a licence to do so! It's no less a responisiblity if you take on a dog-boy - *especially* if you want him to surrender to his primal pup-self - and to YOU:
If he's going to be a dedicated dog, then what about feeding? (dog food is *not* a viable food source for dog-boys!!!) - or bathing and toilet arrangements? (ever tried cleaning an adult dog's teeth or wiping it's arse...?). And what about going to the shops - or other 'non-kink' locations...?
And what are you going to tell family and friends - yours and his...?
As the human in the relationship, it's Your responsibility to keep your pup healthy and happy: to ensure that his rubber isn't damaging his skin, that his posture isn't causing long-term health issues, that he has enough to keep him occupied - and most importantly, that he knows he is *loved*...
This ain't to say that rubberpup-play isn't immensley fun or deeply rewarding - for both Handler and pup - but it does mean sometimes having to take a step back from the fantasy and play. Most of all, it means having to take the responsibility of being an Owner...
Just like owning a real canine pet - having a pup can be a deep joy, but it is also a responisiblity; Look after them well and they will reward You with unquestioning loyalty and total devotion - but before you take home that cute 20 year-old with the big brown puppy-dog eyes and a desire to do *anything* to please You, please, just stop and think for one second: "Will I still love him when he's arthritic and 50...?"
Monday, July 27, 2009
It was the dog's first formal bike run - and i think it got the taste for being in such a hot pack of hot metal, shining chrome and steaming leather :D (not to mention all those lovely gloved hands to give it a fuss once in a while - even if they *did* keep pinching my dog-treats...!).
Thanks to David and Buzz for organising an incredibly pleasant and enjoyable couple of days - and to the rest of the guys for making a dog so welcome....
But most of all - my *DEEPEST* thanks to my Handler for taking me: Sir, you *KNOW* just how deep that gratitude and devotion runs: i am *proud* to be Your dog, Your companion *and* Your friend.
Friday, July 17, 2009
From the outside, Pup-play can look like a fantastic excuse to run around without a care in the world, chewing everything in sight and begging for constant fuss...!
But that's not really pup-play at all: a genuine pup is motivated by it's need to please, it's need for possitive encouragement, and a deep seated urge to explore it's primal self...
It is *not* about being a noisy untrained mutt who thinks only for himself, shoves his nose where it's not wanted - and ends up being a nuisance to himself and to everyone else around him.
Being a pup is *not* an excuse to be a brat - it's not even about getting what you want!
So - if you feel drawn to being a pup, please, don't forget your humanity in the process - or your manners. Don't* be loud or rude or selfish - who would want to own a dog like that?!
But, be polite, be considerate, be attentive and be friendly - and you will find that you won't be stray for long...!
Monday, July 13, 2009
That's it now: 2 years, and we're now all done! It's always an odd moment when you finish a piece - happy and sad all at the same time: good to be complete, sorry to be finished.
Still - next is the chest. We've already discussed ideas (including wanting my dog-collar snagged in the branches over my heart...), and Jo has taken some tracings to get started on the design itself; she's off to South America for a while again though, so it's looking like we'll only make a start when she get's back in March... ;)
Friday, July 10, 2009
Just had some of my rubberdog pics posted up by the gorgeously sexy RFFSTFF on His blog (one of those i follow, so links to it are in the collumn to the right) - He loved the ones of me in full rubber and dog-hood, with my Humanga-tongue dog-toy gag :))
Nice to know that someone so sexy can also have a good laugh ;)
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
Wow - what a fun couple of days, perving it out in the capital ;)
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Friday, July 03, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Wow - another interesting couple of days...!
Handler gave His dog permission to go and visit RopeTop in London - both to taste His rope, and to accompany Him to the SMGays night at the Hoist.
This pup has been chatting to RopeTope for several years, and loves both His rigging work *and* His eloquent and informative writing about Erotic Dominance and Submission; He was as gentle and Dominant a Top in person as He has always been online - and it was an honour to be allowed to meet Him, be tied by Him, and serve Him - however briefly...
RopeTop also took me to the SMGays night at the Hoist - where they were hosting the "Slave Academy" themed night, it was a little odd being at the Hoist again without being in full rubberdog mode: and meeting people who i've met before, but who didn't recognise me on 'two-legs' - or seen my extensive tattoo-work...!
RopeTop was a caring and careful Handler, and wove a beautiful rope harness to help me feel safe and secure - and to show off my ink to it's best; He also made me enter the competition - and blow me, but i won 2nd runner-up! :)
So - thank you, Handler and Geoff both, for letting me roam - and Thank YOU, ZAK, Sir: it was a genuine pleasure to serve You.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Bored and grumpy at having to work late at work (even with the rare distraction of a rubber-jock hidden beneath my jeans, quietly distracting me all day....); then suddenly getting Your message saying that You were thinking of heading out on the bike, and maybe Your dog might like a night-time ride...?
Then the shock and excitement of seeing You standing there waiting in the courtyard - waiting for me to lock up with a knowing grin on Your face and all 6'4" of You in that fantastic new set of leathers!!! (and then later finding the harness on underneath, nestled in that wonderful pelt that Your dog loves so much...!). Dashing out to greet You, and feeling the warm grinning-glow that rushed through me when You touched my head and stroked the back of my neck - wanting to bark and grin, but having to resist that primal urge because my colleagues were behind me. The wicked pleasure of innocently introducing You, and watching their faces as they try to work out who You are, and why You are there...!
On with the lid, and my battered old leather jacket - swinging onto the bike behind You with a grin - then swept off onto country lanes and into the sunset: like some leather-clad Knight on His silver steed, with Your faithful hunting Hound beside Him...
Pulling off the road and onto a country track; You stopping and growling: "Off you get, boy!" - then following as You stride into a dark field, pulling off Your helmet and gloves, finding a dark corner by the hedge but in sight of the bike - turning to stare at me as You pull down the zipper and i sink gratefully to my knees with a grin...
God - it felt so good to kneel before You in that field - to watch that first stream of golden nectar - knowing that the rest of it would soon be coursing down my throat... Gently taking You in my mouth - knowing You feel me soft and wet around You - trying not to lick or move so that You can concentrate on pissing - feeling You expand and twitch inside me for a moment, and then Your juices flood into me... looking up at You silhouetted against the darkening sky - mouth full and unable to grin, but trying to show You with my eyes: the pleasure i feel in giving YOU Pleasure - the completeness i feel in having You inside me...
And then slowly - blissfully - losing myself in the utter pleasure of working that meat; feeling You harden and fill me as i lick and suck and mouth; feeling the weight and fullness of You as i open my throat and let You in... muzzle buried into Your fur: rich and warm with the smell of leather and manfullness - paws wrapped around Your legs - stroking and feeling the padding and Your boots, and the tense and grind of Your legs and arse as move within their hide-skin - and all the time, just wanting more of You: thicker, deeper, stronger...
And then feeling your hands on my head - gently holding me still whilst You slowly, teasingly push deeper inside - no struggle to take You this time: just You there, in my throat - holding my breath, relaxing - wanting never to breathe again if it means i can feel You there and know that i am pleasing You - making You feel so good - lost in the rhythm and the sounds of Your arousal and waiting only for that feeling as You come to climax and feed the dog in me with Your juice...
i could have knelt there, pleasing You forever - i didn't even notice the sun going down: all i knew at that moment was that *You* were the centre of my universe.
And then - finally - grinning and unbuttoning to show my wet full jock - You grinning back and moving to press a booted leg into it, resting Your hand on my shoulder - giving me permission...
Ah, the pure simple perverted doggy pleasure of humping Your boots: losing myself in blissfull puppy-pleasure - grinding my perverted rubber dog-cock into my Master's leg and boots whilst You laugh and fondle my head - tell me what a good dog i am, what a sexy pervert You own - encouraged by You and losing myself in the primal urge to hump and cum - comforted by Your meat still there held gently in my mouth... feeling myself close - hearing You encourage me - feeling all cares and humanity wash away into blissful doggy-arousal and surrender: to Your boots, to my own perversity, to YOU...
Needing to bark - just like a good dog needs to do now, every time it cums - hearing You laugh at the sound: muffled by Your cock, still there in my throat - You grabbing my head and pushing in deeper: telling me "Try barking now, Dog!" - and forcing me to groan and gagg and cum in breathless abandon!
Collapsing back to grin back up at You in the starlight, the taste and smell of you in my mouth and beard - my arms still around Your boots - feeling the shuddering mess of cum and sweat as it drips out of my jock and soaks into my jeans - knowing that i will be proud to wear the sticky mess back on the bike like a pervert's badge of honour...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
i think of my Man, and His collar, and of that feeling when it locks around my neck: the way it's weight and presence help me to let go, be free and simply be His animal - and i can *feel* that need for surrender and devotion bubbling deep inside the core of me - sometimes so strong, it threatens to overwhelm me and burst out in tears or laughter - or simply a big throaty *WUUUFFF!!!*
It sounds scary - but it's a good feeling; it lets me know how deep this dog-self runs. And true, it sometimes makes me sad that i can't live permanently in that state, at my Man's feet or wrapped around His legs - but then, maybe, some things are stronger for being experienced in their full intensity less frequently...
SIR: i may not wear your collar everyday, but i *know* You understand that it's weight and Truth are engraved on my heart and into my mind; i know that, because You hold that heart in Your hands with such care.
Your DOG loves you Sir: balls to bone.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
what a fantastic weekend - down in London again: 4 days on the bike with my Handler - geared and collared: His bike-pup and dog-boy, barking at other bikes, wuffing at cute men in the street, making my Man laugh and frightening the public and wearing His collar with Pride.
Saturday was BLUF night at the Hoist - and all fours is *the* place to be for a boot-pup at such an event: i have never had my nose so close to so many Dehners and Wescos and leatherclad arses and crotches - made me feel like the guy in the classic Tom of Finland picture: lying on the floor amid a sea of legs and boots.
True - a few guys were freaked at a guy in full rubber and all fours (and one drunk twit managed to trip over me *despite* the fact i was tucked close between my Master's legs and out of the way under the bar) - and a couple of skins got a shock when they pissed about play-barking whilst i was waiting patiently for Handler to come back from the toilet - and He stomped out to protect me shouting "who's fucking with My dog?"... But most guys where just so pleased to see a genuine pup - and i have never had quite so many gloved hands give me friendly pats and strokes and head-rubs.
But most of all - it made me so PROUD to have several Masters come up to specifically compliment my Handler on having such a naturally k9 and deeply obedient dog (and ask for advice on how to train a boy to be so perfectly a dog...)
Best of all though was the time spent learning to please Him and serve Him better; both of us away from other distractions, and free to let slip the restrictions of 'real-life' and identity. Time for the pup in me to fully come to the fore - and *stay* - stay and grow and mature...
Time to be simply 'pup' - mentally and physically to give myself to that self - and to HIM: it's Handler, it's Master - the centre of it's world and identity.
Time to grow from 'pup' to 'dog' - to learn to "let Him in", mentally and physically - to Trust and surrender - to give my all to Him, without restriction or hindrance. Time to learn - and let it sink in, sink deep - so that it will be there again for Him when He next whistles and calls.
Time to be fully and wholly His DOG.
Your Dog loves You Sir - balls to bone, and all in between.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
i am amazed at how much Jo was able to do in one 3 hour session! She coloured the remaining poppies and then completed all of the background 'wind' to my right-sleeve - it always amazes me how suddenly that can pull the whole thing together into a complete piece of work. All that's left now is to add colour to the beetles on my shoulder and some re-inking of the original snakes (probably the work of one more visit), and then we're done - at almost exactly 2 years from start to finish...!
We're now discussing chest, ribs, legs... i'm also considering adding something to the back of my neck...
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Why dogs are better than wives or boyfriends:
1. The later you are, the more excited your dogs are to see you.
2. Dogs don't notice if you call them by another dog's name.
3. Dogs like it if you leave a lot of things on the floor.
4. A dog's parents never visit.
5. Dogs agree that you have to raise your voice to get your point across.
6. You never have to wait for a dog; they're ready to go 24 hours a day.
7. Dogs find you amusing when you're drunk..
8. Dogs like to go hunting and fishing.
9. A dog will not wake you up at night to ask, "If I died, would you get another dog?"
10. If a dog has babies, you can put an ad in the paper and give them away..
11. A dog will let you put a studded collar on it without calling you a pervert..
12. If a dog smells another dog on you, they don't get mad. They just think it's interesting.
13. Dogs like to ride in the back of a pickup truck (or a bike...).
14. If a dog leaves, it won't take half of your stuff.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
'In play you realize simultaneously the supreme importance and utter insignificance of what you are doing... Play is where life lives'
[George Sheehan, "Running and being"]
i like the idea and description of the sexual experience as play. It is that same child-like sense of wonder and utter involvement in the experience - the complete dedication to the overwhelming seriousness of the act - the abandonment of all but the moment and the task at hand. Embracing the self-imposed restrictions of rule and role - but finding a new freedom within them...
'Scene' doesn't cut the same with me. Scene is an act, something that is done with a distance or objectification. True, we can lose ourselves in the role, in the ritual - but there is still too much of the 'scripted' and the 'performance' to be fully liberating.
'Scene' leaves the actors as colleagues: the performance over they leave without having ever really touched.
'Play' gives space for joy - for love and life and complete fulfilment.
'Play' gives the players the space and the freedom to express their identity and their desires - to test each against the other and evolve the experience in the moment as it comes. 'Play' needs no script - just a situation, a 'lets-pretend' and an openness to explore and become. Having tested and touched and together achieved, it can still all end with a grin and a hug - yet each will not leave unaltered.
'Play' is essential and freeing - and utterly unimportant and without worth. In other words - 'priceless'
'Do you want to play with me...?'
Monday, February 02, 2009
There really *are* many levels of pup-play, and different meanings to "Owner" and "Handler" and "Master" - and maybe even different kinds of pup. Our own motivations towards pup-space colour the kind of play we desire - or will tolerate...
Each is unique and beautiful in it's way - but you do have to be aware the breeds exist, or it can get confusing:
* Some pups go into the space from a very playful angle, and really are just puppies - for them perhaps the sexual side is less important than simply expressing their "puppy" identity. For these pups, their Owner or Master is likely to be their friend perhaps - and play involve a lot of cuddling and ball chasing and petting?
* Other pups are more horny dogs - and for them their pup-identity is much more sexual and primal. Pup's like this might be more in need of a Handler who can train them a little and keep them under enough control not to hump every leg that passes. Play for them is always going to get sexual. ;)
* Yet other pups have their pup-identity coloured by an already existing submissive or 'service orientated' sexual identity - for them, being 'pup' can often be a way to release their human limitations and express simple devotion and puppy-obedience to their Master. sub-pups like this always need a Handler or a Master - since their pup-identity is so heavily orientated towards devotion and the pleasure of being owned (and loved). Play will probably be sexual - but also may include obedience training, or bondage etc (basically - anything that allows the pup to obey and show it's Master service).
* Finally, some pups are *heavily* motivated towards SM and enjoy the 'humiliation' aspects of being treated "like a dog". Most of these pups will need a Master - but it's likely play will involve treating them a *lot* worse than you ever might a *real* dog ;)
Add in different inclinations in each type towards furry and Anthro tendancies - or rubber/leather fetishes - role-play - SM... and you got quite a heady and confusing mix. Each pup is unique, so no wonder we sometimes get confused :)))
(Interestingly - although most of the pups i know are in the 1st "puppy" or 3rd "sub-pup" category, most of the new "Masters" i've met tend to automatically assume that most pups are in the last "DOG" one - and that any "dog" will want to be beaten and fucked and treated badly... Lucky for this pup that it's own Master is a member of the RSPCP ;)) )
Thursday, January 29, 2009
thank YOU SIR - *MASTER*
You make me the pup that i am - i am *Proud* to wear your collar!
This last visit was the ultimate: right from the moment You opened the door in your *fantastic* rubber skin-gear and Rangers - and let me bury my muzzle in Your fur and lose myself in Your smell whilst you stripped me and returned me to my natural rubbered state - every "good boy" sending shudders of pleasure through me... And then You telling me to bring my "toys" and follow you upstairs to the play-room...!!
You lying me down on the massage couch - head back, neck lengthened, throat relaxed - letting me practice, teaching me to relax and trust You - to open and take you deep inside me - that incredible feeling (not just physical, but *emotional*) - of trusting you, of being open to You, of wanting to please You and loving that You enjoyed teaching me - both how to please You, but also how to be a *real* man...
Then up on all fours - gloved and hooded with my true pup-face, and the perfect feeling of the gag filling my mouth (and the taste of your breath down it and into me). Seeing the red sheath of my dog-cock - dripping with the accumulated juices of my doggy-arousal - knowing You are taking great pride from the sight of Your dog, displaying and aroused and every inch utterly the dog that You own and love...
And then later lying on the coach the other way, seeing my own shining rubbered body - fantastically sexualised and controlled - feeling that skin encase me, transform me, eroticise me.... Looking between my own spread legs and seeing YOU there, towering over me - half in domination, half in protection - bearded and booted, looking spectacular and masculine and beautiful and utterly the rubber Master of every fantasy i have ever had...
Seeing the intensity on Your face as You prepared my hole: seeing Your care for me there, and the hunger too - seeing that look firm and change as You felt your dog's hole open up to you, hungry and willing and eager to please You - and to feel You inside me, making me complete.
Feeling the unbelievable *INTENSITY* of YOU deep inside me - the brush of Your rubbered thighs against my arse and the feel of your balls against my crack - and realising *just* how deep you really were - and how open to you i had become: my fuck-hole as loose as my throat - and each as eager as the other to compete for Your pleasure...
Your dog, your boy - your little pup...
And the same again in the morning - lying there in my boots and jacket - You in your chaps and the Wescos. Losing myself in You - ON you. The tenderness with which you kissed my boots resting on Your shoulders - the grin You gave as your pup squirmed and grunted underneath You... The incredible *weight* of You when you pushed down on me - whilst i begged You to fuck me and make me your dog again...
And in between that perfect endless night and wonderful morning, nuzzling up to you under the duvet - sleeping with Your arm around me: so that even in sleep i was aware that You protected and guarded me - and knowing that with the morning would come more chances to love you and serve you - and be every inch YOUR DOG and Your friend.
(and then, later, saying i could share this email on my Blogg - so everyone would know how good i feel to be Your pup...)
Well Sir - what can i say except