Saturday, September 19, 2009

Scenes from a "dog's day"

Moments that sparkle and flash in the dog's memory - that put a grin on it's face and the sweet need for surrender in it's heart...:
  • 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...
So many moments - so many more unrecorded - yet none are forgotten, Sir.

So many ways for a pup to simply say to it's Man:

Your dog loves You, Sir - thank YOU for walking me...

3 comments:

  1. I love the joy you have in your puppiness, it's an inspiration to pups and subs of all species everywhere. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Just wanted to thank you for this post. i'm still so new to the pup scene and trying to read everything I can...this is awesome, and lets me know that what I've touched on so far is just the tip of what's to come!

    ReplyDelete

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