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.
"*gooood* dog!" He croons - and i feel shudders of pleasure at the encouragement, and the pride of knowing i am making my Man happy.
He rests His hands on my shoulders, and i know that it's time - i pull back from my licking, hold my head still with my tongue out and mouth relaxed - waiting, obedient, ready... i feel Him give my head a stroke as reward - then slowly, teasingly, His meat upon my tongue - everything in me wants to lick and suck, but i know i must control myself - do only as i am told. So i kneel where i am, keep my head still - wait...
"OK, dog - take your man's piss"
It comes slowly at first - trickles into me, hot and salty - then faster, more - i struggle to swallow it all like a good dog - my dog-cock dripping and straining in my sheath and a moan escaping from deep inside me as i drink down His piss and feel it filling me, changing me.
"You fuckin pervert!" i hear Him croon "my perverted fuckin dog!"
The flow stops, He pulls out - i know He's not done and wonder why... He pushes my head down, bares the zipped neck of my suit - i feel my dog-collar tighten as He grabs it, pushes himself down inside - hands on my shoulders he holds me there - submissive and kneeling beneath Him, staring at the toes of His waders... Then all i can think of is the wash of hot piss as it flows down inside my rubber - over my back and shoulders, filling up my suit just as He has already filled my throat - the pure pleasure of it makes me squirm and grunt and moan: hot man-piss sluicing down, pooling around my plugged arse, washing down my legs and filling my waders, bubbling out of my arse zip and dripping from my sheath...
"Yeah - fill up my dog - my piss-pup..."
He lets me go, and i sink back to my haunches - lost in the perverted pleasure of being bathed in His piss: He knows this has been a fantasy of mine - to stew in my man's juices, to take my Man whilst i'm filled with His piss inside and out - He can clearly see the pure animal response in my wet straining sheath - see the piggish reaction at being rewarded, perverted...:
"my piggy little pervert pup!"
i squirm in the wet rubber, kneeling at His feet - pant and drool and grin back up at Him - hoping and knowing what will come next - buzzed with perversity and Pride: his pup, His dog, His pig - His whole damned barn-yard if He wants it, just so long as i'm HIS...