Friday, December 23, 2011

Pup-pup interviews

Just to say that the 2nd half of my interview by pup-pup is now up on his website:

Interview With BootBrushPup Part 1

Interview With BootBrushPup Part 2 


If you've not seen pup-pup's series of interviews, it's well worth taking a look: he's managed to interview a wide range of pup's and players, and asked some genuinely interesting questions that certainly had me thinking. 

It's fascinating to see both how wide and diverse a community we have, and yet, how close our core experiences can be.



Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The journey, not the goal.


I wanted to share some thoughts on another great post from Sparky on the 'No safe word' blog: http://nosafeword.blogspot.com/2011/12/building-pain-tolerence.html

He speaks there about pain-play - and the ways in which he has seen (and experienced) intense play over time.

He says that the 'Old Guard' traditions seemed to be based on a Top taking the sub on a journey: building their Trust, and using a slow build up of pain and experience to ramp up their endorphin high and enable them both to reach higher and higher levels of experience together:



But, for whatever reason, some of those newer players in the 'newer kinks' seem to have lost this idea - preferring instead to head straight for intensity. But, whilst that leap to the peak experience may look good from outside:
"The sub doesn't have the time to learn from the experience, gain trust, or reach levels of inner calm by becoming acclimated to the pain they experience before being taken to the next plateau.
In fact I think in those cases the sub is merely a prop as a part of expression of sadism."

It is unfortunate, but i must agree - and have had that same feeling that my experience does not feature in the new Top's concerns - that i am merely there as an object, a three dimensional porn-prop to their own short-lived gratification, to be discarded once they are done.

The idea of being a sexual object may be hot - and there are those that hold the belief that the sub is there to serve and nothing more: that the Top's pleasure is all that matters - but in reality such depersonalising experiences have only been painful and empty - and i believe deeply damaging to both my own self-worth, and to the Top's perception of Himself as Top and Sadist.

---

The old traditions built up over time, based on the experience of many Men - most of whom had been on the other side of the whip, the clothes peg or the needle; each had experienced what it means to surrender, and how it feels to ride your Top's gift of pain.

They knew from personal experience how the slow ramping up is a part of the journey - and that the journey is itself the goal.

And in that gaining of experience they also gained a key part of BDSM: EMPATHY.

Empathy is knowing what the sub is feeling - physically and emotionally; empathy is in knowing from your own experience how to play his body and mind.

Empathy is in knowing that the Top understands your building need to surrender - and receives that surrender with full knowledge of what it costs.

Empathy is what makes our play the meeting of equals - even whilst the one surrenders all to the other.

Without empathy, there is no Trust; without trust, there is no possibility of a bond between the players - and without that bond, BDSM is meaningless: a one-night stand masquerading in leather and chains.

And perhaps most importantly: Empathy is what makes BDSM play a shared experience of pleasure, rather than simply one Man abusing another for His own selfish ends...

---

To me, BDSM is all in that slow build up - both of the sub's ability to surrender and go into the experience (whether that is pain, or submission), and of the building Empathy and Trust between the players - that both enables the sub to submit, and that creates the deep emotional bond that makes it all worth while.

Because it really isn't about the pain itself. If it was, I'd stay at home and get off by jabbing needles in my leg. Pain (or humiliation, or bondage, or any part of BDSM) is simply the tool used to help us ascend -  the conduit through which our energy flows: me to You - the key through which i am able to attain surrender, and You are able to receive it.

Pain is the method of travel - and not the point of the journey.

And, done well with respect and with experience, BDSM really should be a journey - a long climb up the screes and bluffs of our shared sexual heights - until you are *both* stood upon the highest peaks - and both made greater from the shared experience of the climb.

But like any mountain climb, that takes both time and experience.

And maybe that is where the newer kinks and players lose: because they don't give it the necessary time.

Maybe it's the desire for instant gratification, or too much choice in the online world that creates a perceived need to make an immediate impression - and maybe it's just a simple lack of experience and of empathy. But the rush to get to the peak experience means that you really do miss the journey - and therefore never truly reach the goal.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

A simple leg-hug


Sometimes pup-play is simple.

My Handler came to visit: a quick drop-in for a cup of tea on His way to a weekend with His boy in Birmingham. 

Geoff was due home and i've been off work with a chest-infection, so there really *was* only time for a little bark of excitement accompanied by a helpless puppy butt-wag when He strode up the driveway - a gentle hug, kiss and beard-rub in the hallway - and then Sir was admiring Geoff's tiling handiwork in our new kitchen whilst i put the kettle on. We then all retired to the sitting room for a very civilised chat over tea and Lardy-cake - with my Men both sitting side by side on the sofa, and the pup taking it's accustomed place at His feet - quietly smiling at the way They both chat and laugh so easily with each other - and with me (and how incredibly LUCKY i am that these two most important people in my life can also be such respectful friends to each other as well).

But of that simplicity of which i spoke - and that moved me so deeply: 

It feels so perfect and natural to simply just sit there, at His feet - one hand resting on the toe of His boot whilst the other slides behind His camo-covered calf - responding to my inner instinct and quietly shifting my position so as to be able to lean my chest softly against His shin; feeling Him shift His foot slightly, almost unconsciously: nudging against my puppy-crotch so that i can sit upon the arch of His boot a little and feel every tap and twitch. 

Feeling the love and submission welling up inside me: both a swelling fullness that threatens to overwhelm me, and an aching emptiness that yearns to be filled. i settle my mind - let myself simply go into the flow of emotion and energy - feel it stream from my heart and my core - pouring into Him through the contact between our bodies. 

The simple love and devotion of a dog for its Master - of a boy for his Man 

and the pleasure in being in His company.


And i know that He feels the flow in turn: because He looks down and smiles - then gently places His hand upon the back of my neck: just were His collar would lie. His hand is warm and comforting as His thumb gently stokes along the edge of my hairline - He gives a quiet little growl when i hug myself tighter into His leg and my head sinks onto His thigh. His hand moves to rest gently on the top of my head, and i feel His love and protection flow back into me in response to this silently given but utterly honest submission. 

It is only a few moments - and then Geoff says something that makes us all laugh and He reaches for His tea and the moment passes. No words were exchanged between us, no orders or sexual contact - and yet there is more said in those few moments about what it means to be HIS pup than i could ever express in the hundreds of pages of this blog.



i love You Sir: heart and soul, balls to bone - always and all ways.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

"Why I Like Rubber"



i just read two excellent posts by RubberAnubis - were he explains the joys and pleasures of rubber: and the fascination if holds for those of us perverts under its power. 


Rubber Anubis: Why I Like Rubber - 2:

He is correct - there is nothing that feels quite like rubber:

  • the way that it conceals the body within its glossy folds, yet stretches to reveal every bulge and bump of the physique it enfolds; 
  • the way it constricts the body and its movements - in its gentle resistance, reminding you of the pure physicality of being; even the act of breathing can become erotic when the rubber is tight enough...
  • yet rubber also slides so slickly across the skin, giving an intense and sensual massage to your limbs as your move - lubricated by your own trapped sweat, oils and essence; 
  • Rubber holds your heat, your sweat - bathes you in your own desire, makes it seep from your skin. Then makes you feel the incredible, shuddering electricity as each trapped bead of sweat trickles down your chest or back...
  • Rubber has a uniquely heady scent: a combination of industrial anonymity and intense masculinity. Yet it also slowly absorbs the scent of the Man over time - until it comes to smell perfectly of Him - and He of it...
  • it transmits heat and touch so perfectly - yet also seems to amplify it so that every stroke of His hand can ripple across your entire skin in shuddering waves of intimate heat;
  • full rubber can reduce its wearer to an anonymous black-skinned creature - yet in it's glossy tautness, also reveal the true Man within so completely: His every moment of desire and arousal.


Rubber is unique, erotic, encapsulating and perverse - yet as Anubis says: it is still nothing without the Man within it to make it come alive. But when worn, rubber becomes more than a fetish material - it becomes a partner in the sexual experience itself!

And *that* is what i love rubber too.

Thursday, December 01, 2011

Rubber rider



The petrol tank feels cool against my cheek - and through the thin rubber skin stretched tight across my sweating chest and stomach. i can see my breath mist against the metal as i pant and struggle and writhe: frantic and lost in intense pleasure. i place my gloved hands on the handlebars, push my booted feet onto the foot-rests: rear my rubbered haunches up, press myself back harder against my Man - and catch sight of us both where we are reflected in the wing-mirrors...

i am encased in tightly revealing full black rubber: high necked one-piece suit and gloves, thick rubber sheath and cod-piece - even sox encasing my feet within the high rubber riding boots. The tight glossy rubber makes me feel closely contained and utterly controlled, yet it also defines and exposes every twitching muscle, every bulging ache of my arousal. The only scraps of humanity that show through are the black-ringed eyes staring out from within the hood that reshapes my head into that of a dog - and the hot ring of my twitching hole through the arse-zip; but even that is now hidden: pressed up against the furred abs and pubis of my Master so that He can fill my rubbered core with His heat and His hunger.

My glossy black encased body is laid across the silver tank of His Honda Pan European - hugged against the tank and pinioned beneath Him so that it is pressed down hard into the broad leather saddle. With my body wrapped around the machine, my arse is raised high and my hole forced open - filled with HIM - tight and hungry as the pistons that throb and pulse within the engine beneath us. This is His bike - His steed - and He rides me now as He rides it: with unquestioned ease and complete control. Every deep thrust rocks the bike rhythmically forward on its centre stand - and pushes my wrapped and packaged crotch painfully deeper into the leather seat. His gloved hand grasps my neck - just above the silver collar that marks me as His property - forces me back down to the tank and pins my head against the cool metal. In the heat and the hunger i have a mind-twisting vision that my rubbered flesh is somehow merging to the metal and leather and chrome of His bike - and my sheathed cock throbs all the closer to an untouched orgasm at my desire for such total surrender into becoming nothing more than another of His treasured possessions...

He thrusts Himself deep into me - i feel the press of His balls - the rasp of His thickly furred pubic mound against my hole and the smooth grain of His boot leather through the rubber of my thighs. i moan, try to turn my head against the press of His hand - and leave a thin slick trail of saliva against the cool metal. He relents: moves His hands and takes a hold of my waist instead - holding me powerless in His grasp as He pulls me up and back against Him. In response, i clench and tense my deep inner ring of muscle - feel the hot thickness of Him squeezed within me - and hear His explosive gasp of pleasure in return.

He releases my waist - lets me rock forwards on the foot-rests and slide my hole forwards and back along His length - clenching and relaxing as i do so - grinning at His reflected look of pleasure in the mirror before i close my eyes and give myself over to the intensity of this hunger He seeds within me. For a moment i am lost in the feeling of Him inside me - of the pleasure in this fullness, this surrender. My body responds to His intrusion without thought: gently rocks back and forth in a luxurious curve that slides Him along the entire inner bulge of my prostrate - feeling the ridge of His glans as it tweaks the outer ring of muscle, then pushes upwards and forwards into the silky folds of my core. He lies back against the pillion seat - eyes half closed in the sensual pleasure of being served - and i feel the purest of puppish pleasures: to be given the honour of giving Him pleasure with this body that He has trained so carefully and fully...

This is only the end of a perfect session with my Master - a day of living within my rubber, of serving Him with my body in so many ways: plugged and humping on His boot - bathing Him in my spit and giving Him my throat - lying breathless beneath Him, breath and thought both paused and waiting for His permission to start again - of being strapped down and fucked deep upon the fuck bench: legs folded and restrained hard up against my chest as He drilled His hunger down into me and took possession of my soul with His hungry gaze.

i begged then for Him to strap me down into the rubber cuccoon of my sleep-sack - to convert me into nothing more than a rubberised fuck-toy: a double-ended rubber slug of hunger to feed upon His juices and wordlessly beg for Him to jerk it off into rubberised oblivion. But He refused - preferring instead to bring us down here into the garage: onto the bike, this silver steed - His most loved possession and symbol to me of His power.

To act out this long held fantasy of us both, and to have my trembling rubber body up on the pegs, over the saddle: to fuck me and ride me and make me a part of His machine.

All of this flickers through my mind as my body twists and grinds upon Him - perverted fuel for the arousal that builds and burns within the enclosing rubber - oozing from my collar and cuffs and dripping from the edges of my zippered hole...

He lies back and lets me slowly fuck my hole against Him: revels in the feeling of being so deep within the willing core of His perverted rubber pup. i catch His eye in the mirror as He watches the lights glisten and ripple from my glossy skin - and feel myself transformed in the possession i see in His gaze.

i am dog, i am rubber, i am hunger - and i am HIS.

He finally pushes me back against the tank when He feels me rising towards my own puppish orgasm - ignores my whimpers as He slowly draws Himself out from me, and then finally has to command me to relax so that He can pull Himself free from the clinging hold of my despairing ring.

He swings his tall booted leg across and over me - dismounts the bike and His hound, and moves to stand, leather encased legs square upon the cool concrete of the floor - His meat now straining and ready in His gloved hand. He gives the order, and i obediently sink to my knees before Him: hands balled and pressed into the floor like the paws they have now become - my muzzle raised towards Him: open and willing, my tongue hot and wet and pink and ready.

His hand is gentle upon my head as He holds me perfectly still - and His voice is thick with encouragement as i greedily and gratefully receive the gift of His seed.


As we leave the garage - just before He turns out the light - i see Him look back at the chrome and steel of His mechanical steed: i know that he will be thinking of His dog and its hole when He is next out riding: His leathered crotch pressed against the tank, feeling the throb of the engine and remembering how it felt to be fucking His pup - and His machine through it...

When He finally sends me home, i have still not cum - nor do i need to: serving Him has given me more pleasure than any orgasm ever could.


Tuesday, November 08, 2011

...and then down to Worthing



Despite the fun and excitement of the previous night's play we still managed to wake early - both of us stirring just before the early morning alarm, the pup sighing at the pleasure of being wrapped safe under the duvet, my Man warm and furry behind me. As He felt me start to wake, He pulled me back into His arms - and indulged and endured my snuggles and nuzzles before sending me off to make tea and breakfast and prepare for the drive down to Worthing and the sea.

As expected, the weather looked bad for the afternoon, so we decided to play safe and take the car - which was a shame, since the pup loves its time on the bike with its Man - but it was warmer and safer, and as Sir pointed out: getting soaked on the way down would mean an entire miserable day and a horrible ride back. Besides, it gave us a chance to properly chat all the way - and for the pup to rest a paw in His lap for the entire 160 odd miles (excepting a short break at the services for tea and a flapjack - and a curious chat about the sartorial Independence of Goth style - inspired by a gentleman in plus-fours and a wing-collar...).

Off the Motorway, we took the scenic route down through beautiful Arundel, before finally getting to Worthing itself - where Sir dropped His dog off on the seafront whilst He attended to the family duties that had brought Him down.
---

Unfortunately, with the curious and 'unexplained' demise of the seat of its one pair of jeans, the dog discovered that it now only had either its bike leathers or a *very* tatty pair of old gardening jeans to wear - and Worthing is far too polite a place to be seen in creosote-stained denim! So the first task of the day was to hot-foot into Beales to find some nice new black 501s to match its Man's own; the lady behind the counter was delightfully polite about my jingling dog-tag and collar - and kindly snipped off the labels so that i could change into my new purchases immediately...

Feeling much more comfortable, it was then a pleasant - if slightly damp - day of window shopping and windswept walks along the sea front. As predicted, the weather only worsened throughout the day - but the whistling wind and crashing surf only served to draw me out onto the pier, to feel the shudder and crash as each wave reverberated against the superstructure below - and to watch the white-capped swirling water seething over that curious under-pier space where my Man and i had played on our last low tide visit: rubbered and wadered and high-vis'd - but now completely drowned beneath violence and sound.

But eventually even the dog had to retreat before the pelting rain - retiring to the calm gentility of the Denton Lounge at the entrance to the pier for a warming cup of tea and a sneaky read of my Kindle whilst the rain lashed at the windows - before my Man called me back out into the rain to be picked up and whisked back home again (and to say how very impressed He was with the dog's new jeans...)

Despite having driven through the outskirts of the 'ports many times, the dog confessed to having never actually been into Portsmouth itself - and so Sir decided to take us off down onto Portsea and the Gunwarf Quay.

We had a truly enjoyable stroll around the shops, then Sir suggested we take a trip up the marvelous Spinnaker tower. The sun had just set, and the views across the night-time city where simply breath taking: with the world spread beneath us and the storm clouds darkening the sky above us - and the city and Isle of Wight picked out in the yellow blaze of street lights. We even got to watch as the ferries glided in and out of port - and the hovercraft sped and roared across the channel.

It was shortly before closing, and so we also got a quiet moment up on the top 'Crows nest' floor - taking the privacy for a kiss and a snuggle whilst the cold wind whistled above our heads. On the 170ft return to earth, we got roped into a little 'customer survey' from the young lift attendant - who was trying to persuade his bosses that he should be allowed to play his guitar up on the viewing deck to give the visitors some entertainment... He was a very polite and friendly young Man - and never minded that the pup spent most of the ride down held tight and warm in its Man's arms, it's tail gently wagging and a huge grin on its face...




Back down on earth, dinner was a fantastic super-food salad extravaganza at the curiously named 'Giraffe' - where we were served by the endearingly hairy Luke (who also had the delightful habit of kneeling down beside the table to take our orders, his jeans stretched across his thighs and crotch in a most pleasantly distracting way...). They also did a brilliant bruschetta sharing platter, that Sir hand-fed to His pup whilst it grinned back at the other customers...

Nicest of all was the wonderful little poem, scribed across the large mirror at the back of the bar:

Every giraffe knows...
that smiling is infectious: you catch it like the flu; someone smiled at me and I started smiling too.
I looked around the tables and someone saw me grin, and when he smiled I realised that I'd passed it onto him.
I've thought about my smile a lot and realised it's worth:
a single smile like yours or mine could travel around the earth.
So if you feel a smile begin don't leave it undetected stat an epidemic quick and get the world infected!

After our meal, Sir took us both on a stroll around the quays and then over onto Spice Island and old Portsmouth - where He led us out to roam along the battlements that front onto the navigable channel. We eventually found a nicely seated area overlooking the basin, where the pup sat astride its Master in His lap - nuzzling against Him from the cool wind across the sea and wagging its plugged hole against His thigh - as we both waved at the passengers in the Isle of Wight ferry as it slowly cruised by in the darkness...

But eventually the cool evening drove us back down into the old brick corridors and night darkened passageways - lit only by the sulphurous burn of the sodium lighting and the effervescent sea (those dark spaces easily the equal of any Dark-room, and leaving us both astounded that they were not heaving with guys cruising for trade).

i lost track of Him for a moment in the darkness, whilst i took a crafty piss against the old brick of one corridor - then turned to find my Man waiting silent and brooding behind me in the dark. In answer to His unspoken command, i silently and obediently knelt before Him - opening my mouth to take His piss and then His cock, with the murmur of the waves against shingle the only sound...


Back in the car, and both of us blessed the heavy rain that finally washed over us - testimony to the wisdom of our joint decision to take the car after all. 

As we drove, the pup had it's own chance to hand-feed my Man - filling His mouth with chunks of handmade clotted-cream fudge and making Him smile. Sir then directed me to a waiting notepad and pen in the glovebox - and had us both laughing and grinning as we tried to scribble down some notes on the previous 28 hours together - reminders for the account the dog would give on this blog.

The dog also took the chance to confess that the sorry state of its split jeans had not been an accident at all - but a shameful attempt to test the comment on His profile: "If you wear denim jeans with hole(s) in, expect me to rip them off you..."

But he forgave me - since, as He said: "We don't do blame - we say 'thank you very much!' "



And i did... :)

"A butt-plug, a toothbrush, and a smile"



"Just bring a butt-plug, a toothbrush - and a smile"
That's the text my Man sent to me: a spontaneous invite to an overnight trip down to the South Coast, in response to my own sad text telling Him how much His pup missed Him. i was grinning so hard on the drive down that evening that it started to get painful around Michaelwood services - and was so big and bright by the time i got to Filton that i almost didn't need my headlights...

i took Him at His word, and packed light: no gear, just my bike leathers; but i had craftily chosen to wear my oldest pair of denim jeans to drive down in: the ones with holes at the knees and a tear in the arse... It didn't take Sir long to discover the split - with a chuckle and a "What's this: moths?!" - hugging me tight to His body whilst His one hand widened the split so that He could push down inside, between the tight denim and my bare thighs - stroking up to find my puppy-butt rubber-covered and plugged ready for Him.

Sadly, the pup was a bit later than planned and there was bad weather forecast for the rest of the evening, so we decided not to travel down immediately - opting to stay home in the warm and dry and travel down to the South Coast in the morning instead (and spoiling Sir's intention to have the pup stay with Him in a nice hotel in Arundel that He and the Cat had found - but then, i got to stay in my Mans arms instead, which was probably the better deal anyway :) )

So instead we had a delightfully domestic picnic-supper of scotch-eggs, cheese and apple - with Sir hand feeding His pup as always - then a little winter treat of warmed apple-crumble and custard! Finally, tired as we both were, it was time to retire to bed ready for the early start in the morning.

---

Whilst Sir heads for a shower the pup strips out of its rubber shorts and slips its jeans back on -  then sprawls patiently at the end of the bed for Him. When Master comes back into the room - still damp and warm from His shower - He can't help but laugh to find His dog there: head resting sleepily on the edge of the bed and tight denim butt wagging a welcome. He climbs up to kneel on the bed behind my head, enfolds me in His arms, gives me a huge hug and kisses the top of my head - then slowly turns me so that i can bury my eager snout into His furry belly and chest - then work down that treasure trail of manly fur - down to His waiting cock so that i can surround it with my long warm wet tongue...

He climbs off the bed, calls me over to the corner of the room - tells me to "Stay!", then leaves me kneeling obediently whilst He goes to prepare Himself and change into boots and cap. When He returns i bark my excitement and pleasure - then He calls me to heel and leads me into the playroom on all fours.

Down on my knees on the padded floor - back where i belong: deep throating Him whilst He rubs and tweaks at my sensitive puppy nipples; i take His prompt and reach up to squeeze His pecs and then feel for His own hard tight nipples in turn: roll them between my fingers, tug on them, hear and feel His deepening arousal at this little peak of pain.

He orders me up onto the bench, and i leap up on all fours then roll over to "play dead". He taps the end of the bench and i wriggle back to stretch my neck over the edge - exposing the silver glint of my collar and opening my throat to Him. He reaches around and under my body - finds a heavy chain with which He locks my belt loops to the bench: chaining me down and restraining me; another chain goes around under the frame, its crocodile clips pinch and grip onto my exposed and tender nipples... As His strong hands explore my restrained body i soon find myself helplessly writhing in the building pain, the denim tight around my crotch.

He leans over me, His meat stiff and beautiful in front of my drooling tongue - waiting for permission; He gives the command, and i eagerly guide Him into me with my tongue - warm and muscular and rippling underneath Him as it pulls Him down into the heat and hunger of my mouth and throat. He pushes inwards - feels the resistance as my vocal chords slide open around the head of His meat - feels His dog struggle to relax and surrender as He fills its throat and blocks its airways with His meat - knows that it can now not breath or swallow until He relents - that NOW He is in complete control of it's body, it's mind.

His meat spears down into my body, restrained and helpless and bound in both chains and devotion. With His meat hard inside me, He reaches down to stroke over my exposed chest - feels where the weighted chain grips my nipples - squeezes my thighs trapped within the tight denim - strokes up to grope and massage my aching crotch; i know He can feel my cock stiffen down the tight leg of my jeans, that He can see the spreading dampness of my dripping pre-cum as it oozes into the fabric.

My chest spasms, i choke and He finally relents - unclips the chains and lets me sit up to swallow and take a few shuddering breaths. He climbs up behind me - astride the bench with our legs hanging down; He has me scoot backwards so that i can nestle into His chest and arms - He holds me tight as He rubs His chest against me - scouring my back with His chest hair. i lean my head back onto His shoulder, give a groaning whine as He nibbles my ear and strokes my exposed throat with His hand: feeling where He has just been...

He traces down my neck, over my chest and sore nipples - a line of fire where His fingers touch - finally He strokes down over the waistband of my jeans, reaches under to cup my damp denim crotch in the heat of his Hand. i groan once more and try to raise myself up a little: begging Him with my body. He trails one hand around my thigh and then cups under and around my arse - as His other hand reaches for the back of my head and slowly pushes it down towards the bench: raising my butt up towards Him. i groan into the leather padded seat as He traces the outline of my plug where it presses through the denim - easing His fingers under its edges to pull it slightly outwards, then pushes it deeper in: teasing my hole and making me shudder with hunger. He reaches down to stroke the naked skin of my thigh where it is exposed through the split seam of my jeans - teasing at the frayed edges - pushing His hand in under the denim, trying to gain access... then, slowly, i feel Him take a hold of each torn edge - imagine the bunch of His muscles as He applies His strength to the weakening fabric. i feel the denim giving way, starting to tear, and curve my back up towards Him further - presenting my arse to Him - inviting Him, begging Him...

He reaches for a knife - slices through the weakened middle seam, then pulls: the ripping tearing sound is almost frightening as He applies His strength to the denim - there is surrender in the feel of the fabric giving way to His demand: opening up, tearing open - exposing my naked venerability and hunger.

He stands, moves to the front of the bench - His beautiful cock inches from my doggy nose - tantalisingly close. He makes me watch as He slowly rolls on a protective skin: watching that beautiful meat teasingly sheathed and glistening - knowing that it will soon be mercilessly invading my inner core.

He slowly climbs back onto the bench behind me - traces the length of His body against my own and traps me beneath Him; i feel the muscular strength in His legs, strong against my own still tightly enclosed within the remnants of my shredded jeans - the tightness of the denim across my thighs only seems to amplify the naked vulnerability of my helpless arse... His legs grip mine as His sheathed cock rubs and bumps against my now exposed plug: pushing it deeper into me and making me growl and sigh - roll my head so i can look back over my shoulder to see the intensity and burn of His gaze. He takes hold of the plug, exerts a gentle pulling pressure as He stares into my eyes - hungry and demanding; i relax and let Him take it: draw it slowly from my straining body.

And then the inanimate coolness of the plug is replaced by the pulsing animal heat of His Head, resting against the newly empty ring of my self. He doesn't enter at first - doesn't push himself upon His dog - not yet... He lets it - MAKES it - wait. Makes it take time to feel Him, to want Him - to NEED Him inside me.

Only when He can feel my hole trying to open and pull Him in - only then does He start to push and slide Himself slowly, millimetre by millimetre, into the hot trembling eagerness of His dog's inner core.

My hunger and eagerness make it hard to accommodate Him: i struggle to relax - pant and breath deeply. He takes His time, teases out the pleasure: pushes inwards inch by inch - waiting for each rippling wave of my twitching arousal to pass before He pushes deeper in. He is gentle but merciless - stringing out the sensations as He slowly enters and takes what is only and truly HIS.

The soft animal of my body yielding to HIM and HIM alone.

The deeper He enters me, the further down into the bench i feel myself sink - melting into the leather, into the heat and the surrender - relaxing and opening - into my sub-space, my true place: under Him, pleasing Him - my body my sacrifice, my surrender my gift. Fully given to this deep feeling of being where i must - my blissful return. i sink down into the bench - opening up deeper and deeper until i feel He is lancing up and spearing into my heart: opening my soul and filling me with loving Him - serving Him - being HIS.

He takes His pleasure from my body - gifts us both OUR pleasure - His whispered gasps and muttered obscenities the greatest compliment i could ever wish for. Fucking me deep, slow, merciless - my mind lost in the bliss of it - whilst my animal body pants and throbs and moans around and under Him. His legs gripping me down onto the bench, His arms wrapped around and under my chest, pinning me down under Him whilst He thrusts deep and deeper still - pounding His masculinity into me whilst His sharp teeth find the soft skin of my neck and He growls His dominant possession of everything that i am.

His arms slip under and around my hips as He pulls my belly up from the bench - draws me up before Him and onto all fours - His cock still buried balls-deep inside me. His hips buck and His body wraps around me as He fucks me doggy-style - reminding me of the dog that i gratefully am; i raise my knees off the bench, brace my shoulders and push up into a knee-lift - raising my butt up those extra few inches to match the beautiful length of His own legs, so that He can push Himself deeper into me in comfort - i feel His growl at how He can feel His dog's strength as it holds up our combined weight with its arms - the flex of His jock-pups shoulders and back and the increased tension in it's muscles...

He has us both edge backwards until he can step off the edge of the bench - pulls me back towards Him until i am able to lie my chest and belly along it with my legs braced and spread: my hole wide open - He fucks me deeper still until my hole is burning and dripping with hunger and need.

Finally, He relents - slowly withdraws whilst the dog pants and whines and trembles. He has me turn and kneel before Him whilst He pulls off the condom; His meat is dripping: full and raw and straining with hunger. i stare up at Him with dark-ringed hungry eyes, my tongue already hanging ready for Him - great drops of dog-drool splatting the floor between us, pooling with the lube that drips from my abused hole.

He gives His dog permission and it covers Him in kisses - then lets Him feel the hot hungry tightness of its breathless throat... He is already edged so close, it is not long before He is telling His pup "Steady - careful now - feeding my dog!". His cum is the sweetest i have tasted it, and i lap every drop with hunger and tears in my eyes.

He holds my head close against Him - tells me how much He loves fucking His dog - how much He Loves His dog. i whine and wag my throbbing tail - letting my body say what i find i cannot find words to fully express.

He tips up my head, leans down to kiss my nose - then takes hold of my collar to guide me up onto my feet. Quietly He leads His boy back along the landing and into the bedroom. Fed, complete - crawling into bed with my Man - snuggled and happy, wrapped safe in His arms: i am the happiest dog in all of the world.


Thursday, October 20, 2011

Showing a "Spirit" of support to our LGBT youth

It gets better: we are all worthy of love and support.

Today is "Spirit day" in America - but the ideas that it stands for a global.


The day was started in 2010 by Canadian teenager Brittany McMillant - asking his friends to wear the purple of Spirit from the rainbow flag, as a way to show support for their gay friends and to remember all those gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered teenagers who have been so bullied for being 'different' that they have taken their own lives. 


The event has now also gone virtual, with many supporters turning their profiles and photos purple-for-a-day on social sites like Twitter and Facebook.




Almost every gay person has endured bullying as some point in their life - whether at school, from strangers in the street - sometimes even from family. The very fact that we are still here - alive and strong - *despite* and *in spite* of all that intolerance is testament to the strength of our spirit and Pride in who we are.


But i think it is also a duty for those of us who *have* survived and thrived to do so visibly - to show those who come after us that *all* of us are worthy of love and support - and that all of us *CAN* find love and happiness. 


To be the big gay brothers and sisters to those who are lost and uncertain - and show them that we *can* live happy fulfilling and *equal* lives without shame or guilt. 


So - please - go purple today - wear a badge and be out with pride: let our LGBT youth know that they are loved and supported, and that it really does get better.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Dog day

i kneel before my Master - my warm rubbered body pressed against the smooth grain of His crotch-high Wesco engineer boots.

He is firm but gentle as He pulls the rubber dog-hood down over my head; it tightens and conforms to my face as He slowly pulls down the zipper at the back, then locks it shut beneath my collar. i give a happy whine as He strokes my newly encased face, then tips my chin up to look at Him so that He can gaze through the eye holes of the mask and into my dark brown eyes - watching as the dog-brain inside me rises up in response to the rubber and His touch and floods me with obedient devotion to Him.

i surrender to my pup-self - feel it rise, then rush over me in a warm tide of wordless emotion and overwhelming arousal. For a moment my world seems to shrink as i feel my skin prickle and my body give a little involuntary shudder - then everything becomes brighter and clearer as the familiar simplicity of my true k9 state settles over my mind.

Between my knees my dog-cock strains against the glossy red sheath that contains and restrains it - and my fuck-hole twitches around the soft new rubber plug: pulling it deeper into my core so that it rubs comfortably against my puppy prostrate...

Transformed - released - i look up along my rubbered muzzle - grin up into my Master's face and give a happy bark to let Him know that i am once more so happily and completely His pup.

---

He guides my questing nose up along His boot leather - lets me catch the mingled scents with my newly alert sense of smell. He is naked besides those beautiful boots and His muir cap - His strong lithe body covered in a thick layer of fur that traps and holds His scent and tickles my tongue. i reach the top of His boots and breathe in the warm musk of His balls - then - with His quiet permission of "Go on boy!" - i gently start to lick each one, careful to cover every folded inch of skin with my warm tongue. He reaches up to stroke His hands through His own chest hair, and i know that He is enjoying His pup's attentions as it nuzzles its warm rubbery muzzle into Him. He gives a small moan and seems lost in the pleasure of the warmth of its breath and the slick caress of its tongue as it gently circles each low-hanging globe, teases along the sensitive edges where they meet both thighs and cock.

i am equally lost in the bliss of devoting myself to giving HIM so much pleasure.

i push my muzzle in underneath His balls and He moves backwards towards the fuck-bench behind us - leading me across the padded rubber floor; He turns slightly, lifts one booted leg over His dog's head so that He can rest His foot up on the bench, then leans His chest against His knee - the back of His balls hang low and inviting. i trace my tongue along the folded ridge of skin, tip my face up into the fur that sheaths His arse and crack. His scent is heady: strong and almost overpowering - but the dog responds instinctively and cannot help but groan as its tongue seeks out the warm puckered ring of its Man's hole - licks and probes and teases as He reaches back to pull apart His cheeks...

He swings His leg back down - turns, with His beautiful cock full and dripping with arousal.

An obedient dog, i wait for His permission - then gently touch the very tip of His cock with my tongue - slowly trace the very edge of His glans and down along His frenulum; He gives a shudder of pleasure - and i respond by allowing my tongue to spread so that it strokes across and around the whole smooth head - then gently guide Him into the inviting wet warmth of my muzzle.

i am careful to hold my tongue down and my jaws wide: let Him feel only the heat of my mouth and my breath for a moment - then slowly push myself down so that He feels the narrowing press of my mouth and throat as it closes around Him. i hold myself still - let Him feel the pulse of my blood, hot and warm through the membranes - then slowly bring my tongue up underneath Him, roll it around so that i find and cup the curved ridge underneath His cock - exploring the feel and taste of Him within my mouth and against my tongue.

Finally, i slowly pull my head back - pushing upwards with my tongue so that He feels the ridged roof of my pallate rub against the back of His glans as He withdraws. i let Him take a moment to feel the air, cool against His spit-wet cock - then return once more to those long slow licks that He loves so much: covering the entire length of Him from glans to root in slick warmth and hot breath. Every time i reach the end of His glans, i am careful to flick my tongue underneath it: teasing His meatus and the very edge of His piss-slit where i know He is at His most sensitive...

His arousal must now be almost painful - and He turns me around to trap my head between Himself and the bench. i know what is coming: tilt my head and open my throat - i surrender and take Him deep inside me as He fucks Himself down into my mouth and throat over and over - breathing when He allows me, enfolding Him in my willing body when He pushes Himself down to the root.

He braces His hands against the bench behind my trapped head, places His boots squarely either side of my knees - i hear His muttered growl: "Fucking him - fucking my dog". We are both lost in the pleasure that fucking His dog's face is giving Him - until finally i choke on the thick slime of His pre-cum and my own drool.

He relents - takes a step back to stare down at His dog with hunger in His eyes; i stare back at Him with equal hunger of my own - squirm my plugged hole a little and give a whine that i know He will understand. He grins - and tells me to jump up onto the bench...

Lying back, i pull my legs up and press them towards my chest - offer my smooth rubbered arse to my Master. i feel the cool air as He slowly pulls down the zipper: His gaze intent and calculating as my plugged hole is finally exposed. He pulls on black nitrex gloves, then stares deep into my eyes as He takes a firm hold of the plug - and gives me the gentle command to "Give!" in a low and powerful voice, thick with hunger. The plug is large but soft; as it slides out i am left with an empty feeling - but know that He will soon fill me more than any plug ever could.

The lube is cold but His hands are warm - although my hole is stretched from the plug, He still takes care in gently teasing me open with His fingers - probing and stroking in readyness for His meat.

He takes my legs - places my feet against His chest and leans down so that He can stare down into my hooded face as He feels my gloved hands guiding Him to find the willing core of my body: hungry and open and eager to surrender to HIM. His eyes are dark and His pupils deep and wide as i pull Him down onto - and into - myself...

He fucks me slowly: deep, long strokes that open me around Him until i feel i am little more than a skin of quivering rubber tightly clinging to His beautiful manhood. Slowly He deepens each stroke: pushing Himself into the rich folded heat of His dog's being. i can feel the strength and power in His thighs as the sweat starts to bead in His beard and chest hair. i reach up, stroke my hands against His pecs and find the red swollen nubs of His nipples within their thick nest of fur - urge Him to greater depths of pleasure with little tweaks and pulls on those tender little nubbins of flesh.

As He fucks me He breaths those same words again, over and over: "Fucking him - fucking my dog".

He pushes into me, down to the root so that i feel the bump of His pubic bone and the press of His balls -  then holding Himself there, arches His back and spreads His arms wide with a roar of pure masculine strength: i feel He is extending His power out to the corners of the room - and deep into the core of my being. This is His space, His temple - and He fills it and me with equal ease and domination.

i give Him everything that i am - and He takes the fullness of His pleasure.

Finally, He leans down over me, guides my hands so that they encircle His neck whilst His own slide under and around my hips; with glorious ease He lifts me bodily from the bench - turns and sits back Himself - with me still speared and gasping upon Him.

He lies back - His dog stradled across Him with its back legs swinging either side of His thighs and its front paws on His chest. He folds one arm behind His head whilst the other encircles its still-sheathed and straining cock; He gives its balls a little squeeze and smiles as it whimpers and squirms itself down onto Him in hunger.

With His permission, it slowly starts to fuck its own hole on Him; He reaches up to tweak its nipples through the rubber suit - cocks His head to watch the light ripple across the glossy rubbered skin of its chest and thighs. As it pants and drools He presses its sheathed cock against His belly with His hand, and croons encouraging words - telling it what a "good dog" it is, and how hot its hole feels when it fucks itself on Him like this.

He feels the head of His dog's cock swell as it climbs towards climax - He captures its gaze and gives it the one word command that it needs to hear before it can find release:

"GIVE!"

With a howl, His pup shoots the sheath full of months of stored dog-juices - arching its back and forcing its Man deep into its pulsing, milking fuck-hole so that He gasps in a second laughing orgasm of His own...


Spent - complete - both Man and pup collapse back with a groan. His enfolding arms guide its hooded head to rest on His chest. They rest - Man and hound - bonded in the warmth of the shared pleasure and devotion.

It's quite a while before either much feel like getting off the couch - much less leaving the room.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

New from Invincible Rubber


i've always loved Invincible Rubber; their gear is fantastic: beautifully made, high quality rubber with a passion for perversion and detail. i own more of their stuff than any other rubber-maker, and it's always their stuff that i return to for its fit and comfort.

They've been online now for 10 years - and have been tantalising us for months with some incredibly sexy new designs and altered cuts on their old patterns. To celebrate their anniversary, they have now had a full revamp of their website - adding more colour options, a much simpler cart system, and making it much easier for international clients to place orders.

Take a look - and treat yourself to some of the best rubber in the world.

Thursday, October 06, 2011

Condolences to the family of Steve Jobs





Today the world has lost a unique mind and a brilliant soul: even if you're not an Appolite, you gotta admit the guy was a genius.

Goodbye Steve - the world will miss you!




Wednesday, October 05, 2011

'Being a slave does not make you worthless..."

ruffwolfboy is a very good friend and an incredibly beautiful man (both outside and in) - and the photos of him and his DaddyMASTER are some of the most tender BDSM images i have ever seen. Recently, he put the following onto his profile - i think it perfectly expresses what it means to love and serve:

"being a Master's slave/property does not make a slave/property the same as a table or a chair (although a slave/property may serve as one from time to time!). while this wolf serves his MASTER and had given all choice to HIM, MASTER values HIS wolf far more than material goods. if you are a slave, don't settle for a Master who treats you like shit. being a slave does not mean you are worthless or that you can be abused, it simply means you have a drive and a need to serve another Man with all your heart and you're willing to give your all to Him. that is a wonderful gift and desire that should be treasured, not denigrated.

enough said."

As he says - enough said.

What greater honour than to be allowed to Serve and to Obey - with honour and Pride, devotion and LOVE - and to have that love and respect returned by the one you Serve. THAT is the true meaning of BDSM.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

A flying visit - and 20 years of Regulation

Still too mad-busy to be up to much pup-play this week - but my Handler did make a wonderful surprise visit to me at my work: zooming down on His bike and then sending me a text to say "Here boy! come look what's waiting by the lake!"; there are too many security cameras on campus to allow us to do much more than sit on a blanket on the grass, chatting and hugging, but that sunny hour with my Man's leathered and booted legs entwined around me was one of the highlights of my entire week...

Tattooing again on Friday - so more photos to come i'm sure. Meantime i thought i'd share a nice bit of video showing the backroom activity at Regulation's recent photo shoot, ready to celebrate their 20 years of being online (and damned good stuff too!)

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

'Scoot'

There's something both deeply erotic and incredibly cute and sensitive about the 'Scoot' drawings by Rob Clarke - i really love the way that he captures the simple animal soul of a dog-boy...



If you've not seen Rob's amazingly perverted comic work - featuring a whole farmyard full of dog-boys, pigs, leather-fairies and other twisted folk - then take a look at http://www.robclarke.net/. As a fine artist, he also does some amazingly beautiful sketching and life-work as part of the Queer Men's Erotic Art Workshop.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Patch-badges: available now!


i have blogged previously about the pup-pride badges that my Handler and i designed and had professionally made - specifically thinking of all those leather-pups and other submissive furry folk who, like me, wanted to be able to wear their BLUF or leather gear without having to wear Military patches or Forces insignia.

Well, these high-quality and beautifully embroidered badges are finally now available for sale through eBay for the next 30 days. 

Each badge is 3" x 3" and is suitable for either being ironed onto fabric or sewn onto leather. They are also available to purchase separately, or in multiples - so you can buy just one to wear on your cap, or a matching pair for each shoulder of your uniform shirt...

Go on - buy one and wear your Puppy Pride on your sleeve! :)



BLUF/Leather-dog Pride badge:


Pup-Pride badge: "Collar":



Pup-Pride badge: "Paw":


i am still alive...

i know i've not posted over the last week or so, but i'm in the middle of our busiest month in the Academic year: when all the new flesh - i mean 'new students' - arrive, and we try our best to get them up to speed for their studies. i'm also trying to get my head around a new job with extensive subject responsibilities *and* located across two Campuses... Consequently, i'm afraid that i've not had much time for playing 'pup' or visiting with my poor lonely Man.


i have managed to find a little early-morning time to do some editing on the panskin site, however - so feel free to pop over there to get your bootbrush fix, and i'll be back to my merry posting shortly, i swear!


Saturday, September 10, 2011

Worthing in Full rubber, high-viz and waders.


Sir took His pup for a surprise trip down to Worthing at the last Bank Holiday. i knew something was a-foot when He sent me strict and explicit Instructions to bring my full rubber, waders and high-vis...

I'll let Him describe the visit for once:

The weather was due to be wet, and I knew we had too much gear to carry for the bike, so I decided we would go down in the car. I normally prefer to go by bike, but my pup kept me talking and laughing all the way, and so the journey went quickly – despite diverting via Bognor due to traffic congestion and watching the guys in wet and dry suits, playing with their jet-skis and ‘toys.’  
Once we got to Worthing I got us checked in to our sea-front hotel and had the pup follow me back to the car to pick up the other bags - but then ran up onto the beach and suggested that we "go for a walk on the sand" – to which the pup grinned and barked his ascent. 
Back in the room i think My dog guessed what was really going on when i told him to get into his rubber, waders and hi-Hiz then gave him his own yellow hard-hat (which I had labelled with "Bootbrush") and then walked him out though the hotel and back onto the beach. It felt good to be stomping down the shingle in hard hats and walking out to the waters edge: the rubber warm and tight and our waders heavy. I know we got a couple of looks from people, but the pup couldn't keep the grin of his face or the hide the bulge in his rubber. 
I had timed our arrival with low tide, so we had quite a walk down to the sea's edge. The sea and sky were amazing, and I had the dog take some pictures of us before we clomped along the tide line -  watching the seaweed swaying in the current as the tide started to turn and the water began to rush back up the beach.  All that rushing water made me need a piss - and the dog took a photo as my piss arched into the sea...





We stomped along through rapidly filling rock-pools and finally made our way to the pier itself. It was amazing to see all the ironwork from so close - and so I led my pup under the pier to see the legs and struts covered with debris and barnacles and muscles - and small pebbles with holes and threads that the tide had wrapped about the metalwork. I also had great fun watching my dog finding small fish, crabs and anemones in the various pools - and spotting worm casts and the indentations where razor fish had been.  A couple of times I also noticed the people above us looking down and stopping in surprise to see what they thought were workmen at so late in the day - it's amazing what you can do and where you can go if you put on a high-vis and a hard-hat. 
It felt very special to be sharing that transient place between tides with my dog, and we stopped for quite a while to take several pictures: amongst the metalwork in our wet rubber and heavy boots, and framing the early evening sky and sea ‘neath the decking of the pier. It was both beautiful and perverse: nature in the raw and rubber at its most basic and protective.  










Photos done, I then led us east - past the storm drain outfall – stomping back up the beach. I couldn't help but chuckle at the entire family of four who stood motionless and spellbound as we appeared from underneath the pier: no doubt amazed to see two men in wet shining rubber...  
As we walked back up the beach my dog found a special pebble with two holes in it. It was his little 'good luck' gift to Me - now it sits on the ledge above My desk as a reminder of our special time together.

---

It was getting late by now and I was hungry, so I led us up off the beach and into town - looking for food, and finally ordering chips and onion rings from one of the sea-front chip-shops: both of us still in rubber and hi viz and waders - my pup snuggled back into me whilst I wrapped my arms around him - knowing that we were scaring the bemused onlookers, but not giving a damn because I was with my dog and I am proud of how freely and openly he shows His love and devotion.  
A bag of warm chips in our hands I led us back to the shore through the Bank Holiday funfair that was being dismantled - grinning at the dodgems and the accompanying music of ‘Dancing Queen.’ 
Back on the beach I found us a little ‘table’ amongst the groins – Fork feeding My dog chips and onion rings, and then knocking over the bottle of drink and splashing him with sticky lemonade. 
As we ate and laughed, the sun slowly set and the illuminations came up on the pier - both fiery sun and shining lights reflecting in the now returned tide. I had My dog turn so that he could sit directly in front of me to watch - my arms around his rubber body as we talked about our adventure on the shore and seeing where we had stood under the pier, now entirely covered by the sea.





Finally I led us back back along the beach with the tide turning; our reflective panels catching the fairground light in the increasing darkness. But now it was time to remove our jackets and go into stealth mode - as I led My dog under the old bandstand, exploring a new structure of vertical and diagonals; the ceiling getting lower and lower as we crunched up the tide driven shingle -  glad that I was wearing my Hard hat when I banged my head on the low beams hidden in the dark.  
At the top of the shingle I turned back - looking out from the darkness at the 200 degree view: mostly of the advancing tide on the sand, but also left and right along the beach with the rows of groins as far as the eye could see with the light from the sea-front lamps lighting the scene. Quietly taking stock of the rusty vertical supports and the low decking above us - checking that we were effectively invisible now in the dark and the damp...  
I rid My dog of his back pack - pulled out heavy industrial long rubber gloves for the both of us: a signal to him of the start of perverted play. His silent obedience was beautiful as he fell to his wadered knees - tongue already hanging from His eager mouth. The sensation of that wet dog tongue on My smooth rubber was amazing as he lapped and licked the bitter rubber - making it slick and slippery and stimulating the Man beneath.

I let him lick and nuzzle for a while, then carefully unzipped my suit and let the dog take his reward: semi hard and smelling of heady rubber and piss and Man; feeling My dog gently taking its Man and the mixed aromas deep into his body - and the bliss of the union of both Man and dog.  
Feeling him quietly bark around my cock at my gently spoken “Good boy” - uttered as a murmur in the silent darkness.  
I could feel his heavy-rubber sheathed ‘paws’ holding the back of My legs - My dog’s tongue on the dorsum of My cock - knew that He could in turn feel the cool smoothness of My gloved hand on the back of his collared neck. He could breath at first, but as My cock swelled I could feel it fill his airway and his breathing became mine to control.  
On his knees at My mercy: under My control as My cock swells to engulf his throat.  
Reluctantly I release him and he gasps. He is only allowed five breaths and then the controlling plug is replaced and he is still. His tongue flickers around My cock and the engorgement increases. I enjoy the extra stimulation. I know that the dog can feel his Man’s buck in response. He is a good dog and his perverted mind yields to the Man's control. Again releasing the dog to breath he takes in the sea air but after five, he is plugged again - and I reward Him once more with a low muttered “Good dog.”
 I keep him there like that - breathing when I allow him, filling him and gagging him when I desire; his obedience and service is perfect and deeply satisfying. 
I feel his paws stroke under My balls, then stroke along My perineum - find the heat of my puckered hole and start to stroke and press against it. His attention stirs my hunger all the more: I reach into the pocket of my rubber jacket and pull out the bottle of lube I have saved for His own hole - reach down to grab his gloved wrist and pull his hand up to me - I can sense his confusion at first as the cool lube spreads over his fingers and hand, then understanding as I guide him back to My hole and tell Him "Good boy - it's OK: Please your Man".  His fingers gently stroke and probe - making sure that he has understood what I am ordering him to do - then gain in confidence and certainty as he feels my cock even harder in his throat. The feel of my pup's fingers teasing and pushing into me - stroking round in circles that match the curl of his tongue around my cock head, then slowly sliding in and out in time to his bobbing head that thrusts me deep into his throat - the feeling is intense and fantastic and it soon pushes me to the point were I *have* to fuck him at last.
I have Him stand up - grab his neck with my gloved hand and push him back to hold him captive against the crossed ironwork of the pier that surrounds us. His face is eery and pale in the darkness, and his eyes deep and black with arousal; I pull him to me and force my tongue into his mouth - I can taste my own precum where it has coated and lubricated his throat. 
I grab his hands, twist him around so that his front is pressed against the bars - he grunts as his rubbered crotch is ground against the struts, tries to turn his head as I reach down to pull the zipper of his suit. His hips push back and his head hangs in surrender as he feels my gloves slowly ease out the plug that keeps his hole sealed and safe: Mine and only Mine. 
Cool lube and heavily rubbered fingers - feeling the heat inside him, and knowing that he must have felt the same when he pushed into Me; teasing his hole - feeling him trying to relax and open up to My command; My dog making itself ready to be fucked by Me and me alone. 
Seeing his rubber body shine as I ease on the rubber-sheath - his arms braced against the iron for purchase as his back arches back towards me in invitation and surrender; His hole is hot and wet around my head as I slowly but mercilessly push myself into Him - feeling for the muscles to clench and then relax - my dog opening up to His man, to His meat. 
I feel his body tremble when I finally push myself fully in - hear his carefully bitten-back whimper; I know that he has to strain to take my full length and size, but it is his hunger to please Me despite his own discomfort that makes him such a good dog to play with. I let him catch his breath - let his muscles relax and get used to this invasion - then slowly start to grind myself down into Him, harder, faster, deeper... letting myself take full control of his body - taking my pleasure from him and from his fully willing surrender. As I fuck him harder I can hear the squeak of our waders where they touch - feel the slap of my balls against the tight rubber of his thighs; the feeling is intoxicating.  
The intensity of my attack on his core makes him growl and grunt and bark - and it only gets louder the harder I fuck him: his animal sounds echoing back to us from the surf and the ironwork. Finally he becomes too vocal and we hear questioning voices above us, the sound of feet crossing the boards and down onto the beach. I make him stand silent whilst I watch someone come to peer under the structure - glad that I had us remove our high-vis and knowing that we are invisible so long as we stay still and quiet. But it's too close a call, and once I hear them walk away I have the dog zip himself up and carefully and silently lead us back out onto the beach.  
--- 
It is a breathless Man and dog that finally slip back to the hotel room and fall back onto the bed grinning and laughing - my pup lying sprawled upon my chest. I pull him around so that he is nestled between my legs - and can feel the dog's cock, hard and wet inside the prison of its rubber. He gives a little whine and a helpless little hump, and I know that his doggy-brain is eager to be allowed to cum. I toy with the idea of getting him to sit on my cock, but decide his hole will be too sore and can't face his disappointment with himself if he can't take me again so soon - and so I stroke his head and smile up into his face, give him permission to bring himself off against me: to hump like the true dog that he really is. 
He gives a proper little doggy 'wuff' as he buries his head into the rubber over my chest - his doggy butt wagging as his hips bump against my thigh; I can feel his cock moving, slick and wet within the rubber - hear his animal whines as he loses himself in pure and overwhelming puppy-sensations - and then the spreading heat of his cum as he finally pushes himself over the edge and fills his rubber with a shuddering howl...
I let him snuggle for a while, wrapped in the heady scent of hot wet rubber and post-cum dog - enjoy making him squirm by stroking the rubber over his now sensitive cock head, and the feel of his trapped cum squelching under the thin rubber skin that keeps it and his cock still sealed and insulated: that makes him my rubber pup and pervert. I toy with the idea of making him sleep in the rubber - knowing that will keep him both horny and obedient - but I am tired and know we have an early morning check-out, and so I finally relent and send him scampering for the shower to peel off his layers and ready for bed.
--- 

Despite my best intentions, we are both tired and heady in the morning. It's a rough drive home, but I make a stop at Portsdown Hill to show the dog the view over the city and the docks; the clean air and hot tea makes me feel better - but really it is my dog's loving company and the memory of his surrender that makes the drive back so much fun. 
He is a horny and deeply perverted pup - he is all and only Mine, and I know that he loves and obeys Me without question. 
What Master could ever wish for more.






Friday, August 19, 2011

Is rubber 'gay'...?



If you've not read it yet, there's an interesting new post from Rubber Canuck discussing a thread on Fetlife: where a straight male fetishist commentated that when he wore rubber everyone assumed he was gay. ('Rubber = gay?').

In the thread that ensued, several people continued the guy's assumption: stating that whilst you often see media and online representations of women in rubber, you rarely see men - and those that you do see are almost always gay (e.g. Matt Lucas' 'Only gay in the village' and the very sexy Jake Shears). For most 'normals' this means that the only male fetish they regularly see is through news coverage of Pride events or the windows of gay fetish shops. So in the public mind, 'male rubber' *does* equal 'gay'.

Several people also made the connection between rubber's way of sexualising of the body, and the subsequent implied sexual submission of its wearer; such sexualised submissiveness is anathema to most straight men, and so any straight male rubber fetishism is kept very private: "For straight men, any perception of their masculinity being soiled by submissiveness is a BIG no-no."

The thread raised some interesting thoughts.


My own experience is mostly the same as speedoguru's: there does seem to be a much higher incidence of women in latex rather than men - at least online, and certainly in porn (there's only 4 or 5 male rubber titles that i can think of - and almost all of those are gay anyway). i've also noticed that at mixed fetish events, markets etc, it is predominantly the women and the gay men who ever dress in rubber. In fact, it is almost always only the women and the gay men who dress in fetish gear at all (my Handler has often commented on how sad and odd it is to see these spectacularly dressed het women in basques and corsets, heels and make-up - and then notice their shuffling male partners, wearing the same old shabby 'street' clothes they might go to the pub in...).


So why is this?

i think several of the commentators got it right about rubber being seen as a predominantly sexual and submissive material. For the wearer, being dressed in rubber is an incredibly sensual experience: as it amplifies any sensation of touch, warmth or movement; for the viewer the visual tighness of rubber and the way its glossy, water-like texture clings to the body is extremely revealing and deeply sexualising. On a subconsious level there is also the connection between rubber and 'protection' / 'containment': from the squeeky rubber undersheets of childhood to the slinky tightness of first condom they wanked into. It's also possible that all that tight wet-looking skin might subconsiouly suggest the wet inner folds of aroused flesh, and the spit-wet smooth skin of their own hard-on....

Encasing a body in rubber simply turns the wearer into a sexual object ready for play.

In our judeo-christian culture, women have always been seen as sexual objects (even when they are dominant), so seem to have fewer problems with the idea of dressing-for-sex; likewise gay men. Both are also much more ready to explore the reinvention of the Self through dressing up, and to be prepared to let go of themselves in the 'let's pretend' of fantasy. This is particualarly so for gay men perhaps: because we have undergone a process of coming out and self-reinvention; we already understand that all identity is fluid, and every persona an invention - we are therefore more ready to empower ourselves by dressing as, and therefore *becoming*, the archetypes we desire.

For both women and gay men, there is also the long established practice of dressing up to attract a mate - and of wearing your sexual desire and availability openly...

But by the same token, straight men are the alpha male: they need to assert their masculinity, and for them, that means dominance. Up until very recently, a man would barely consider putting on aftershave before going 'out on the pull', never mind dressing up in best bib-and-tucker just to get a girl into bed. There is a cultural discomfort to the idea of the peacock male strutting his sexual availabilty - as if this somehow makes him less of a man because it admits that every women will not automatically fall at his feet when he enters a room.

Given this, is it surprising that most straight men are deeply nervous of embracing the sexualising objectification of rubber - or that if they are, then they want to keep it private?

-o-o-


There was one more really interesting point that i wanted to comment on: as to 'why so many gay men might be fetishists in the first place?' to which speedoguru made the interesting observation that: "in our formative years a lot of us had to project our sexual urges onto objects rather than people because we couldn't be honest and open about who we really are/were"

i think that's a really interesting observation.

i certainly know that i channeled my own early sexual urges into objects and gear - and that probably was because i felt an inbuilt shame and inherent perversity in those urges which i did not feel able to share with other people.

i knew that it was 'not normal' to feel excited when i saw my mustached PE teacher in his tight shorts (thick chest hair poking over the top of his bulging T shirt), or to feel 'funny' when watching Magnum PI; i also knew there was something 'wrong' in the way i would guiltily watch in fascination as my brother and his buddies pumped their bodies lifting weights in nothing more than a tight pair of nylon shorts - or sneaked into his wardrobe to stroke and smell his bike leathers and waterproofs...

i also used to sometimes slip into my brother's bike gear - and then stand in front of the mirror and imagine that i was him: big and strong and masculine (and no longer the wimpy, bookish 'mummy's boy' my Dad called me). i guess that extended into imagining myself wearing the same gear as the other Masculine Men whom i idolised: fighter pilots, astronauts, scuba-divers, bike-racers - seeing myself dressed like them, and somehow therefore also become like them too: brave, strong, masculine... Except - dressing and imagining like that made me feel 'funny' too...

Most all though: being a good Catholic lad, i knew that it was very bad that i sometimes woke up all sticky and wet from dreams where big muscular men dressed me up in their gear and then played strangely physical games with me...

As i got older, i realised that these 'funny' feelings were sexual - and slowly realised that these Men that i fantasised about where all 'normal'. i 'knew' that these MEN would treat me with disdain - and that they would be likely to react angrily if they ever discovered my queer fantasies concerning them.

At times, i even imagined that they might punish me in some way: tying me down to beat the perversity out of me - or forcing me serve them as they tried to 'butch me up'. Occassionally i imagined that they might make me eat Their cum so that their extra testosterone would make me more manly - or that they would try to forcefully milk out the gayness from me. A few times i even imagined that they would prove their dominance by using me as their sexual play thing...

Interestingly, such imagined Alpha Male Dominance only seemed to make me feel even more 'funny' - and therefore guilty...

i am sure that such early fantasies fed my submissive tendencies - and so i guess it really was a dead-cert on me turning into the perverted little puppy that i am today ;)



Andendum:

My Handler just emailed to say 'What a nice insight into where my dog has **cum** from!'

i had to reply that i was only sorry that i didn't go on to write about how i later grew up and realised that not only were there *lots* of Men who liked short-arsed submissive guys, but that being a happy well-adjusted pervert is much more fun than being a guilt-ridden, self-hating misery.

Or how He has taught me that rather than 'punishing' you, it is a great deal  more pleasant for you both if your Dominant Alpha Male *rewards* you with His cum and His cock for being such a perverted little randy fuck-pup :D

WUUUFF!!  i *love* my Man!! :))

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