Sunday, May 27, 2012

A trip to Manchester: Sunday and home



Sunday morning did not start well.

The pup had a restless night with indigestion, and Sir woke with one of His bad migraines. Sir made a brave attempt at letting me snuggle, but He looked so pale and sick that my heart wasn't in it - so I trotted off to make Him a constitutional mug of tea, then sat mournfully at the side of the bed whilst He used it to wash down some serious pharmaceutical relief.

Luckily, the drugs kicked in after a while and, combined with a little bit of puppy-massage, He started to feel a bit better.  But it was genuinely upsetting to see Him in so much discomfort - and I was anxious to make sure that the rest of the day would be a gentle one, with minimum demands from His dog...!

Packing was an understandably quiet affair - then we checked out and headed down to the bike.

The original idea was to head home via Birmingham, were we had planned to trot the pup around the monthly Fetish Market. Getting out of Manchester proved as confusing as getting in, however, and we soon got quite lost bumbling through some of the most run-down suburbs that you could imagine. I've never seen so many empty shops and derelict buildings, and it was truly sad to see such a magnificent city fallen on such hard times.

All that dereliction also meant that we could not find a single cafe or greasy spoon that was open for breakfast!

It was when we rode past Stockport Town Hall that we realised we might be heading East instead of South. But by then we had seen roadsigns suggesting that Buxton was only another 20 miles, so we both agreed to keep heading that way in the hope we might find somewhere nice to stop out in the country.

We finally found the perfect little Stocks Cafe and Bistro, in the market place of Chapel en le Frith. The place was filled with cyclists and locals, which is always a good sign of hearty food.  Their menu might not have matched the high culinary art of 1847, but their cheese and mushroom filled Derbyshire Oatcakes, salad and chips were exactly what a hungry Man and His dog needed!

One of the clients was a delightfully shambolic old lady who must have been 90 if she was a day (I'm guessing she was a regular, from the way the owner and his son brought out her roast dinner without her having to order). I noticed her peering at us through-out her carefully picked-over meal - then, once she was done, she shuffled painfully through the tables towards us (nobbled hands grasping her cane, and watery eyes peering out from owl-like glasses, covered in fingerprints from where she kept pushing them back up her nose)...

'I hope you don't think I'm rude young man, but I've been watching you and had to ask' she said. 'That chain around your neck - I know it's not a ceremonial mayoral chain, but I had to know what it is and why you are wearing it?'

Erm...

I looked helplessly at Sir: what could I say that wouldn't offend or completely confuse this dear old thing?

Sir smiled sweetly and replied 'Ah, no - it's more to do with ownership...'

'Oh. Well. I certainly wouldn't know anything about that!' was the peevish reply. Then she shuffled out, muttering away to herself - whilst everyone in the cafe suddenly found something fascinating on their plate or the wall - anywhere else but us...

Finally fed and watered, we then headed on down the road into Buxton. Matlock was calling, so we didn't stay long - but we still found time to make a sweeping tour of the town, and agreed that it would be a nice place to come back to at some point in the future.

From Buxton we headed out towards Matlock Bath. The ride was amazing, with long sweeping roads that swooped over the tops of the peaks, then skittered down into steep tree-arched dales - the twisting roads following the sinuous path carved by white flowing rivers that filled the air with noise and rainbows, then slowly widening out into long lazy ribbons that led through flat bottomed valleys, the glistening river lazily meandering beside us through endless fields of yellow rape.

It being a Sunday, the riverside street in the centre of Matlock was heaving with bikers - so we stopped for a long stroll and ogle at all the chrome and leather on display (although I must ask: why do straight bikers wear their leathers so loose?! flaccid leather slung beneath beer bellies and draped over sagging arses is really not a good look. It can't be particularly protective either...! Cummon guys - it's not that hard getting your gear made-to-measure so that it fits properly and does the job it was intended to do. It would also save the delicate constitutions of gear-perverts like me...)



It was a brilliantly unexpected day of perfect riding: wonderful weather, incredible scenery and the heart-swelling pleasure of being in my Man's company. And all of it all the better for being utterly unplanned.

There was a downside though. As we left Matlock, Sir had to point out that it was already 6:30pm, and so it was rather unlikely we would cover the 200 odd miles to the Fetish Market in time before it closed at 8pm...

Shamefully, I didn't really care - and had to confess 'I already have all I could want Sir - here in my arms' (as I gave Him an enormous squeeze that threatened to break a rib...)

The ride home on the motorway was mostly uneventful (besides the usual activities of trying to catch sight of our reflection in the sides of tankers, waving at kids in backseats, and barking at Sir to chase any potential eye-candy on bikes) - although we did make a nice long stop-over for tea and danish at a Hopwood Park Services on the M42.

I knew that Sir hadn't seen His man for a week or more, so I didn't stay long once we got back to Bristol - just long enough to pick up my civvies, and to bend a sad neck as He unlocked my collar and returned it to its peg in His playroom, ready for the next time we could play.

All told, we rode over 400 miles in four days. Sure, I was a bit saddle sore at work on Monday, but I can honestly say I couldn't have asked for a better time.

Thank you Sir! It is a wonderful honour to be with you: Your biker-boy and pillion-pup.



A trip to Manchester: Saturday night at the Eagle



We decided to start the night at the Eagle Bar in Bloom Street.

It was a warm night, so Sir suggested that we wear just our rubber for the ride down into town - which certainly raised a lot of interest from the bustling crowds of straights as they gathered outside the many clubs and bars. So much so that Sir decided to slowly ride around the streets a little first - just to give them a better view ;)

We finally parked the bike just off Sackville Street - then Sir clipped His leash to my collar and walked us through the streets to the bar (sadly, not hooded and on all fours this time, since we didn't know how far it would be to walk). We both got a lot of admiring comments from the guys smirting outside as we strode up - and even more from the guys in the cloakroom when we checked in our helmets and shrugged off our jackets to reveal the pup's smooth and seamless rubber skin.

Sir led us into the club proper, and ordered a drink from the bar. His pup stood obediently behind Him, grinning to myself at the nudging and side-long glances from the mainly vanilla clientele around us. It's been a while since I've been in full gear in a non-fetish gay crowd, and it was seriously nice to know that our rubber and power dynamic was messing with their heads (and even nicer to note that not a single one of them could keep their guilty eyes off us...).

Sir then spotted several leather-clad guys in one of the side lounges, so He manoeuvred us carefully through the crowd, gave them all a nice big grim as He passed, and then found a suitable place to sit and watch (right underneath the wall-mounted TV screen filled with projected porn). He had His dog sit obediently at His feet, then had it put on a bit of show as it pulled on its hood and mitts and squeezed in its tail: slowly transforming itself from rubber-clad boy into fully formed rubber-pup.

He let me sink into the head-space for a while: rubbing my neck and ears and telling me what a 'good boy' I was - letting the rubber seep into my head and wash away everything but pup - then He had me 'HEEL!' as He walked us through the dark-room and into the main part of the dance-floor.

He stood and watched the guys come and go for a while - His dog at His feet and carefully placed so that the laser light-show flickered and glinted off my glossy skin - reflecting the lights and dazzling the eyes so that no-one would be unable to notice just how sexy His dog looked, and how obediently it sat on all fours by His side.

Then He led us back into the dark-room for a little bit of puppy-nuzzling underneath His rubber - with a couple of guys watching appreciatively on - before finding His way back into the lounge bar and the nice leather bench seating underneath the TV.

The leather guys had wandered off, but there were a few young guys sitting at the tables - they kept looking across (and even tried to take some sneaky phone-pics) and were so obviously in awe of Sir in His full rubber bike gear with His rubber-pup at His side - so Sir sent me scampering across the benches to go bark and play with them for a while (much to their equal horror and delight...)

Eventually the Leathermen came back, and so Sir decided to play our favourite game of 'Fetch!': sending His pup sniffing around their boots, wagging my tail and shamelessly begging for attention. The one guy who most responded was a GOD in full BLUF uniform - and He very kindly let the pup snuffle and lick at His Wescos, whilst He stroked its coat and told it what a cute dog it was. He then followed me back for a quick chat with Sir - introducing Himself as Ian, and complimenting my Master on what a good pup He had trained.

He said that He was there with His own dog, but that he was in leather and not in pup-mode that day (I'm almost blind in the hood, so it was only much later that I realised that the 'dog' was the incredibly sexy Dog01, whom I've chatted with off and on via Recon - and who also didn't recognise me in my hood...!). Master Ian also said that they were planning to soon head over to the Company Bar to meet some friends, and that it would be great if we came along later to chat in the relative quiet there... 

I would have loved to trot through the streets between the two bars on all fours, but Sir didn't think it would be wise, given how busy it was with random hets and drunk women on hen-nights - and so He pulled me back up onto two legs and let me regain a little of my human composure, then led us out into the street. I did still have my tail in and my hood on, however - so we still managed to get a fair-few whistles and cat-calls, and I'm fairly certain we've appeared on a few twitter-feeds and Facebook pages too...

Master Ian was right: the Company Bar was a lot quieter. Master Ian and His friends weren't there when we arrived, and so Sir bought us a drink and picked a quiet spot in sight of the door to settle and wait. Plenty guys came and went - and it was a pleasure to hear their whispered comments.

When Master Ian arrived, He spent quite a while chatting: asking Sir about where He had purchased my hood, and complimenting the idea of using MMA Sparing gloves for puppy-mitts (since they allow pups some use of their fingers and thumbs, whilst still providing padding and protection for walking). He called His pup over to say hello (which is when I finally recognised him!) - but unfortunately their friends were getting a little impatient, and so with an apology to us both he dragged Master Ian away.

Sir got another drink, then found a quiet corner in which to sit where His pup could get it's nose into His cod-piece. Everything kind of faded then, as I let myself dissolve into the simple pleasure of licking and mouthing His beautifully rubber-scented meat - but I did vaguely hear Sir repeatedly telling someone 'Careful: don't stand on my dog...!'

The guy He was talking to was understandably quite shocked to find a rubber-dog between my Man's legs - and I heard him ask 'Oh god - is he giving you fellatio down there?!?'

He seemed to get used to the idea kinda quickly though - cos he ended up sitting down next to Sir so that he could watch and ask Him all sorts of questions: why was I in rubber? what was the collar for? didn't I mind being made to suck Him in public? (Yeah, right!) was I His slave? What did He mean, 'he's My pup'...?

His friend was a little more touchy-feely - until Sir made me 'Present!' and wag my tail. That had him fascinated, trying to work out how it moved so freely (and horrified when Sir told him it was attached to a nice big but-plug that was pushed into my arse... :) )

It was kinda nice to have so much interested attention - and I think Sir liked having to give an impromptu 'pup-play 101' to someone completely ignorant of BDSM. It turned out the guy was a trainee psychotherapist, so he was most interested in the psychology of our relationship: what it felt like for me to be a pup, what my motivations were and what we both got out of the play. Sir was foundering a little by then, so He let me up onto two-legs and back to humanity, so that I could explain for myself (rather than having to rely on the complicated '1 bark for yes, 2 for no' that was not really getting the conversation anywhere...)

He was even more interested when we then explained that we both have separate partners; I think it was the first time he had come across the idea of being able to maintain multiple sex-partners without anyone feeling bad or cheating on their primary relationship!

We had a great chat, and it was a really fun evening - but finally the day's excitement started to tell on me, and I couldn't stifle a yawn. Sir took the hint and suggested it might be time to be heading back - so with a big grin to our new friends, we headed out to the bike and home to a warm bed and a sleepy snuggle that quickly slid into oblivion.


A trip to Manchester:

Saturday, May 26, 2012

A trip to Manchester: Saturday into Sunday



Saturday morning came late, but I don't think either of us really cared too much - not after the fun of the previous night...

After a little time of indulgent puppy-nuzzling and thigh-bumping, Sir finally pushed me out of bed and demanded His morning tea and biscuits - whilst we discussed a few ideas about what to do with the remains of the day (we were very careful not to call them 'plans' - we were on holiday after all!). We both agreed that the first job was to get some breakfast, and so we leathered up and headed into the centre of Manchester to see what we could find...

After a fun little tour around, looking at the amazing red-brick Victorian grandeur (and avoiding the odd tram) we finally stopped a very nice parking attendant, who told us where to find bike parking.

It was already too late for breakfast, so we decided to look for somewhere suitable for brunch instead - and were lucky to find a table at Bistro 1847 (in part because there was a cute gay couple sat in the window. Shallow, I know). It was a good find though - since they served the best vegetarian food I have ever eaten, anywhere.  Sir chose the purple potato rosti, poached egg, homemade hollandaise and  asparagus, whilst the pup went for the 'vegetarian fish and chips' of beer-battered tofu, hand-cut chips and minted mushy peas (along with just about everyone else in the restaurant, from what I could see!).

Honestly, I'm not much of a foody, but that meal was heaven. The tofu literally exploded in the mouth and then melted on your tongue. I 'ooh'd and 'mmmm'd so much, I think several of the other dinners thought I was doing a Meg Ryan... :)

In fact it was that nice that I went on about it for the next couple of days - and bored my poor Man silly suggesting we go back for afternoon tea and breakfast the next morning...!

Beautifully sated, we headed back to the bike with the intention of heading out to Salford Quays and beyond - but Sir had noticed that the bike wasn't riding well earlier that morning, and so we stopped at the first petrol station we could find to give it a look over.

Which is when we discovered an inch-long chunk of aluminium embedded in the rear tyre and a slow flat (by this time down to an almost-flat 5 psi).

We limped the bike over the road to a supermarket car-park (with the pup grimacing as its Man cursed over the intercom) - then Sir called the RAC, whilst the pup made a quick check for local tyre-places on its phone (with Sir's lovely man doing the same back at home). Every one of the dealers we could find were closed for the weekend, and Sir normally has to preorder His rear-tyres anyway, so we were both resigned to the idea that our weekend was going to end with an early ride home on the back of an RAC tow-truck. (The pup did try its best to cheer us both up by chirpily suggesting that could in itself be a little exciting, since I've never been towed home before. A dog's job is to make its Man happy, regardless, after-all...!).

However, the lovely Steve from RCA saved the day!!

He turned up within the hour, with a big cheery smile and lots of admiration for Sir's bike  (and the almost standard straight-man's comment that "I'm an ex-biker too: but the wife made me get rid of mine when the kids came...". Poor sods). He took one look at the tyre, said "We'll have that sorted in 10 minutes!" - and blow me, he did!

He pulled out the aluminium chunk with some pliers (accompanied by lots of disturbing hissing from the tyre), and then plugged the hole with a bradawl. There's probably a technical term for it, but he then pulled out some special 'rubber-plug' thingy that he covered in blue-glue and then pushed into the hole with what looked like a crochet hook. He let the glue dry for a few minutes whilst we chatted about chains and shafts, and then He simply pumped the tyre back up, declaring it would be good for a few days of riding, and should certainly get us around Manchester for the rest of the weekend and back home again after. Amazing.

I only just had enough time to snap a few shots of him busy at work, with Sir anxiously watching the surgery...




And that was it: a bit of paperwork, a cheery wave, and we were back on the road.

We decided to head on over to Salford Quays anyway, even though it was getting a little late in the day. We pottered around the quays for a bit (only just missing a small firework display on one of the bridges), then bought some lovely hand-made Turkish Delight and  spent an enjoyable few hours munching through the majority of the bag as we wandered around the shopping mall and the surrounding area.

The we popped into the Lowry Centre to look at the exhibition of work by L.S. Lowry (which also gave my Man a nice chance to see His pup with my proper Art Librarian head on... ).

Then it was back to the hotel for a nap ("No - I said a nap, pup. Down. Stay!"), before the night's planned visit to Canal Street...



A trip to Manchester: Friday night

He let me nuzzle His chest first - getting His scent into me.

I worked my face into the thick fur covering His pecks. He raised His arm and guided my licking tongue into His pit. Gratefully I buried my nose into the heady musk of Him - letting His pheromones do their work in stirring the pup from its resting place: its animal response rising on the musk of His masculinity and dissolving all humanity and thought - leaving only pure instinct and hunger, arousal and need.

His hand on my collared neck, He guided me back to the tight bud of His nipples - let me nuzzle and lick, then suck and bite: losing myself in the pre-conscious triggers of suckling and feeding. I could hear His own sexualised moans and grunts, driven from Him by the unrelenting attention my mouth gave to those most sensitive nubs of flesh. I could feel His meat, hard and hungry, pressed against my stomach and pulsing with each nip and bite of my teeth - and then His hand was upon my collar: forcing me down onto my knees before the altar of His sex.

He let me lick Him then - teasing Him into helplessness with my tongue: probing along the smooth ridge of His glans where it is the most sensitive, then flicking at the tight thread of His frenulum - wrapping the flat smoothness of my tongue around and under the velvety pulse of His cock-head, bathing it in the slick heat my drool - then holding Him loosely in my open mouth so that He could feel my breath cool against the wet throb of His need. Then, slowly, stroking my tongue down along the underside of Him: reaching forwards until I could feel the base of His balls against the tip of my tongue - and the press of His head against the back of my throat.

I let the full length of Him fill my mouth - enfolded Him in the wet heat of me - rippling my tongue beneath Him and pressing His head up against the ridged roof of my mouth. I could feel the tightness in His hips: the urgency of His need to thrust deeper into me - down past the tight restriction of my vocal chords and into my throat...

He pulled us over onto the bed then - had His dog lie back with its head over the side: open and hungry and begging Him to fuck my throat. His balls felt hot and full against my face. With my nose rubbing along the sensitive ridge of His perineum, I relaxed the back of my throat - let my breathing halt. With a conscious effort, I opened myself to His hunger - and was rewarded by the thick slide of Him down inside of me: my mind quieting as the ridged head of His meat filled my throat, my body, my mind - and my soul.

He had me lick His balls - lovingly bathing each one as I felt His hunger stirring and writhing within them. Then He pushed me back onto the bed, swung His leg over me, and told me to bury my tongue into the musky heat of His arse: groaning in disgust and perverted hunger as the dog took over and made me lap and lick and probe in the eagerness of taking the scent and taste deep into me - my cock tightening in response to His own writhing and groaning that my eager probing tongue produced.

He flipped me over onto my belly then - held me down whilst He reached for His condoms and lube.

I was too eager and couldn't get Him in at first - wriggling my puppy-but in frustration and panting my hunger for Him. I pushed up onto all fours with my puppy-arse high: driven into hunger by the strength of His desire. On all fours like a true dog, I opened myself - head hung and breathing slow: ignoring my hunger in order to try to relax and let Him in. 

Long, smooth, hard and strong - inch by beautiful inch I felt Him slowly push through the restricting rings of muscle, invading the deep inner core of my body...

I let myself dissolve into the hard heat of Him deep inside me - felt my body responding to the long slow stroke of His building hunger.  I could feel my own hunger rise and harden with Him - my muscles clenching and relaxing as they drew Him deeper into me. I pushed myself back against Him, my shoulders squared and lower back arched: took up my proper position as a true fuck-pup, fucked and bred by its Man.

The force of His hunger was relentless: I was driven up from my knees - up onto fingertips and toes, speared on His meat with my body straining as He drove deep into me - His balls slapping against my own as He fucked His dog down into perfect puppy-space: growling and barking and gasping in hunger and pain and no longer knowing whether I was begging Him to stop or simply urging Him on...

He reached under the taut pull of my belly then - found the straining knot of my puppy-cock and expertly nudged me over the edge: hungry to feel my hole twitch and tighten around Him as He pistoned into me and pumped out my puppy-cum with every thrust.


And then He stopped - held everything still in a moment of intense concentration...

His cock twitched and pulsed inside me. He asked me what I could feel and I said that it felt like He was swelling inside me - as though He was impossibly getting bigger and longer. And then He told me that He was pissing into the sheath: filling my rubber-lined hole with His hot piss...

It was a strain to relax enough as He carefully pulled out - but the sight of the sheath filled by both His hard cock and the swelling gold of His piss was amazing.

More amazing still was the taste of Him - piss-strong and hungry in my mouth - as He finally fed me His cum.

Exhausted - cum-smeared and laughing - we finally fell back onto the bed. Grinning, Sir pulled me to Him and snuggled His pup on His chest for a while - then He drew up the sheets and had me lie spooned in His arms.

I was the happiest of pups as I felt Him relax into sleep - and it wasn't long before I joined Him, slipping away into the warm sated buzz of puppy-dreams, safe in the knowledge that I had made my Man happy and Proud.


A trip to Manchester:

A Trip to Manchester: Friday into Saturday

Friday morning came far too early, given both the lateness of the previous night and the wigglyness of the pup's rear fuck-hole that had kept his Man and His meat distracted and wakeful for the first part of the night...

It is always a lovely feeling though - no matter how tired I might be - when I feel Him stir awake beside me, roll onto His back and pull my head onto His chest. What better wake-up call could a pup wish for than to be allowed to bury its licking tongue into its Man's pits - His scent stirring its puppy-cock into life and making its tongue drool, ready to be guided down His body and onto His meat...?

Still, all of that licking and distraction meant that it wasn't quite the 'crack of dawn' that Sir had planned for us to leave, so Sir finally pushed me off and headed down stairs to bring us both a nice bolstering mug of tea and a few biscuits - then it was down to the job of packing ready for the day's long ride.



We were lucky with the ride down: the forecast had been changeable, but the clouds stayed away for most of the 200 odd miles up through Birmingham and the Black Country. The sun even came out as we made a rest-stop and late lunch at the Trentham estate near Stoke. We didn't even mind when the one waitress visibly built herself up to ask the standard 'What's the padlocked collar for - and what happens if you lose the key...?' question - or that throughout our meal, every other member of the kitchen and restaurant staff seemed to find an excuse to walk past our table and gawk... ;)

Unfortunately, the clouds did start to gather as we were trying to find our way into Manchester and the Upper Brook Street Travellodge. We didn't get too wet, but it had been five or six hours of riding by the time we were booked in, and so Sir suggested it would be a good idea to get a short nap before we decided on our 'plans' for the night.

I say 'short': we were both so tired from the puppy romps and the two days of riding (don't forget, we had headed south to Weston the night before too!) and so I'm afraid that we actually slept for a solid couple of hours. When we awoke, it was to darkness and a cold, solid rainfall - and the realisation that we were already well past the start time for the Bi-Ax industrial-strength fetish meet that we had planned to go to.

We procrastinated for a bit, but finally decided that it was really just too wet and cold and late in the day to be gearing up for a further hour's wet ride out to the club - and so we opted to make a damp dash across the road for some pizza instead, which Sir hand-fed to His pup in the warmth and privacy of our room (and then sent him tip-toeing sheepishly down the corridor to leave the empty boxes outside the cleaning cupboard - where they spent the whole night scenting the whole floor with their garlicy loveliness...).

Fed and warmed we then snuggled in bed and watched TV for a bit - but we weren't quite as sleepy as we should have been, and so it wasn't long before the pup was tempting his Man to sate His other hungers...



A trip to Manchester:

A trip to Manchester: Thursday into Friday



Sir and His pup had originally been booked to go to a puppy event in Cumbria this weekend. Unfortunately, the event didn't quite make the necessary numbers it needed to run, but by then we had already arranged a mid-way stop-over in Manchester and so we thought 'Why not just go anyway...?'

Although our hotel stay was booked to start on Friday, Sir suggested I come down early Thursday evening and help Him complete a few chores. He said that if I was really good, He'd then take me to the bike night at Weston and let me sleep over afterwards... :)

He then double-whammied me by opening the door in a 'new' set of beautiful white one-piece leathers and a new beard-trim that emphasised His handlebar mustache...!

He didn't leave the new leathers on for too long though - just long enough for the pup to get a bit breathless and overexcited, stroking them and admiring how much He looked like the gorgeously sexy Simon Day (from Honda's beautiful 'Impossible dream' advert...); then He smacked the pup's arse to speed me into a quick-change from my civvies and into my rubber sleeveless suit, ready to join Him (now in His own wader-suit) in a little jet-washing of the patio furniture.

It turned out Sir's demand for me to be in rubber was as much from practicality as for kink: I've not used a jet-wash before (poor disadvantaged child), so I was amazed at what a kick it has - and how wet everything and everyone gets from the splashback.



We spent a happy few hours cleaning away in the warm sun and arching rainbows - with a few breaks to let Sir decant His full bladder into His kneeling dog's throat - then, furniture clean, Sir took us out into the front to wash down the bike ready for our long ride up north in the morning.

Jobs done - and Sir deciding that the pup had proved himself a 'good boy!' - it was then into our leathers (the pup cheating and keeping his rubber one-piece on underneath), and onto the now-clean bike to head down to Weston.

There were lots of lovely bikes - and bikers! - about, and we even saw several other Pan Europeans; we also stalked a *very* sexy guy whose massive thighs and bubble-butt threatened to burst out of his unbelievably tight leathers at every step. My proudly displayed collar and 'bootbrush' branded jeans got lots of attention too - including a few parents pulling their kids away in vague fear ;)

We also got snapped a few times by the official photographer:





We were both ravenous by the time the event was winding down, so we grabbed a bag of chips and battered mushrooms from Papa's Traditional Fish Shop and headed over to the cliff-side gardens at Anchor Head.

There were already several guys hiding out in the shelter built into the side of the cliffs there, ostensibly watching the sun set across the Bristol Channel, the Holms and Cardiff - but I suspect they were there for other nefarious reasons... I suspect so, because they didn't leave when Sir started hand-feeding me chips, and calling me a pervert and His 'good boy' - and also because they came for a closer look when Sir then stood to let His pup wash the chips down with His piss and then massage His meat with its tongue and throat. One of them even kindly kept a look-out, to warn us all if anyone else came along...

I love servicing my Man when others are there to appreciate my work. There is a real power in being watched: in the way that their arousal enhances our own, and in the way that their watching makes my service and perversity real. It makes me feel Proud to be seen and known as the devoted cock-sucking pup that I am.

But best of all: I know that my Man feels proud when He is able to show off His pup and have other men appreciate and envy what it does for Him - how completely and devotedly it is His and HIS alone.

Sir didn't let me bring Him to the point of feeding me then - but decided to have us both hop back on the bike (with a cheeky grin over our shoulders to our 'audience') and then head back home.

Although it had been a beautifully warm day, we were both a little chilled by the time we got back to Bristol, so we decided to strip off and slide into the hot-tub - gazing up at the night sky as we let the warm water soak the heat back into our bodies. We chatted for ages too, with the pup nuzzled back into its Man's chest - talking about relationships and trust, friendship and commitment.

Saying that I feel I am able to explore things with Him that I have never felt comfortable doing with anyone else, simply because He inspires such a deep, unquestioning level of trust in me.


Telling Him that His non-judgemental acceptance and deliciously perverted sense of Pride makes me feel so good about my puppy self, whilst His open-hearted attitude of playfulness simply makes almost any depth of depravity feel like 'no big deal'...

It was a deep heart-to-heart, and so it was late into the night when we finally, sleepily, pulled ourselves out of the tub and upstairs into bed. But it was a warm and safe and very very happy pup that slept that night in my Man's arms.


A trip to Manchester:

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

"Thoughts of Manchester"

Sir took us up North this last weekend - we were originally booked into a puppy event in Cumbria, but when that was cancelled we decided to stay a few days up in Manchester anyway.

It was a fantastic weekend - despite being rained off from a planned club night, getting a puncture, and Sir being unwell the one morning. I will write up more in detail later, but in the meantime I could not help but share Sir's own "Thoughts of Manchester" email to help the pup remember what to write about. I really *did* keep going on about how nice the fried tofu was..!


Hello there boy! In no particular order 
  •  My dog coming down early on Thursday - helping his Man jet-wash in rubber
  • Down to WsM to see the bikes on the sea-front, then feeding him piss and chips with a lookout and an audience - how very civilised!
  • Thursday, in bed with My dog and all that naughty licky tongue stuff!
  • Friday, Getting up late and not caring
  • Not having packed much gear - and thinking it didn’t matter, because I was with My dog
  • Checking in to the hotel just as the rain started - then going to bed for a snuggle and nap: my dog curled safe in my arms.
  • Waking up late, walking out into the rain to get a late night picnic - and hand feeding my dog back in our room
  • Deciding not to go out to the club - and it not mattering
  • In bed with My dog and all that naughty licky tongue stuff!
  • Saturday getting up late
  • Into the city for a very posh breakfast at the vegetarian bistro - and repeatedly hearing how good the deep fried tofu was!
  • What good company my dog is even when the bike has a flat – trying to help and staying cheerful for his Man (and taking sneaky photos of the nice Steve from the RCA when he came to repair it)
  • Sitting in The Lowrey film theatre with my dog’s paw on my knee
  • All the intercom chat while out and about on the bike with My hound
  • Being in The Eagle and meeting Ian; the look of admiration on his face when he saw My dog and his willingness to chat and how his dog took him away (bad dog!) 
  • Walking my dog through the streets between the Eagle and the Company Bar - and hearing all the comments from the straights 
  • All the attention my pup gained at the Company Bar - and chatting to the trainee-psychotherapist about  polyamory, fetish and pup play 
  • Saturday Bed with My dog and all that naughty licky tongue stuff!
  • Sunday Getting up late
  •  Leaving Manchester, not sure of the route and the freedom of that not being important; choosing when we wanted to go, exploring to find food and it not mattering if we did not find what we wanted immediately (for Me this was a new and very liberating feeling) and how happy My hound was to be part of that unconditionally – good dog
  • The excitement of My dog seeing new places both in dale and on hill
  • Stroking My dog’s leg while out and about on the bike
  • Seeing lots of things and places that we want to go or do on another occasion
  • Looking at google maps the following day and seeing what else we could have seen ie if we had driven out of Chapel En Le Frith were we would have passed a big reservoir and wondering if there was a nice biker friendly road side stop for Me and My dog!

 Good Dog 
I love my dog


High praise

I am humbled by how deeply other pups react to my writing - and most recently to my book "Assimilation". Not in any prideful way that sees what I do as special, but because it makes me happy to know that the pup-in-me might have given another a little peak into what they can become and embrace, if only they have the courage to try:

Hi Bootbrush, 

I e-mailed you a few weeks ago. I have just read your book. 
The whole book is a huge turn-on. I beat off 3 times while reading it. "A Northern Kennel" is still my all-time favorite story. I first read on your website. I like the additions you added for the book. They add to the eroticism. I also like the "Obsession" prequel. It is an erotic set-up for "A Northern Kennel". I beg you to write a follow-up to "A Norther Kennel" from The Master's perspective of his daily life with his New Pup. The Pup obviously will not remember that he was once a human. 

I have never been exposed to rubber, but this book makes me want to explore. I am going to join you as you have asked at the end of your book. I won't lose my sanity. I will just be 1 happy, fucked up Pup/Rubber Droid. 

You are my hero. You describe yourself as a nervous and ashamed teenager. You had the balls to explore your true self. I am still a nervous teenager. You have given me the strength to explore my true self. 

I am going to reread your book and start working on myself. I am not going to be ashamed anymore about wanting to be dominated and surrendering. 

WUFF!!!

What better review could one ever want? Or greater inspiration to write more.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Poole and Worthing - Bikes and riding

Handler took His dog down to the South Coast for the Poole Quay Bike night this week.

The weather was forecast to be fowl, but Sir decided we would chance it on two wheels - although He did text to remind me to bring waterproofs... I also knew that He had been re-reading his dog's perverted stories, so I couldn't help but grin when He then sent a second text to say "And be fuck ready..."

I arrived at His door in my leathers and big-black-boots, my tail painfully plugged and hungry. Even so, I was startled when my knock was answered, not by His usual smiling 'Hello pup!', but by His leather gloved hand roughly clasped to my mouth... He hauled me into the hall and pushed me down onto all fours - then forced my face and muzzle hard into the leather padding of His Dutch Police leathers with a force and hunger that had my head reeling...

He dragged me to my feet, then upstairs and into the playroom, pushed me down to my knees with my head back against the fuck bench - then glowered down at me as I knelt there, gasping and disorientated, staring up at Him with fear and arousal at the sudden strength and power of His hunger.

He bent down - covered my mouth with His in a kiss that was hard and powerful - then held my face into His leathered crotch as He buckled a wide, tight leather collar around my neck. He ordered me to strip off my T-shirt then, so that He could see the inked lines swirl across my arms and chest - then His hands reached down to grab mine, pulled them up behind my back and buckled them into cuffs attached to a broad leather strip that hung down from the collar: restraining me, unbalancing me - and exposing my bare nipples to the pinching grip of His fingers, whilst He pushed my muzzle against His thickly furred chest and ordered me to lick and nip at His own tight nubs of tingling flesh.

He bent me down then - forced my face into His boots and ordered me to worship them like the true perverted boot-pup that I am. Unable to use my hands, I greedily pressed my tongue into the leather - my arse raised high and vulnerable to the stinging crop and smart thwack of His gloved hand against the tight and straining leather. Every strike only made me all the more eager to show Him my thanks and hunger, as I groaned and growled and worked my tongue into every seam and crevice of His beautiful boots. Every groan seemed to power His ever-more percussive strikes - and I was soon sobbing with real pain and release.

He ordered me up - held my neck in His glove and stared down into my face, still wet from my spit and my tears - told me that I was *HIS* and His alone - and then He released my arms from the restraints and ordered me to strip off my jeans and get up onto the bench.

He fucked me hard then, hungry and powerful and totally in control - towering over me and forcing my body down into the leather padding with each forceful thrust. My body was His: overwhelmed and surrendered and utterly powerless - and burning with the heat that His hunger was stoking in me in turn as I surrendered my hole to Him, regardless of the pain as He stabbed deep into me and made me His.

---

It was quite late when we finally broke free from the burning heat of our shared desire, and hastily retrieved clothes and bike leathers from their scattered abandon - grins on our faces at the unexpected intensity of His hunger and my own twisted pleasure in sating it. But I was quite a saddle sore pup, and I admit that it was not just excitement that made me wiggle about on the pillion seat as we rode down to the South Coast through an unexpectedly beautiful evening.

We talked on the way about the pup's stories, and how they had been the inspiration for His hunger. We also talked through ideas for the current pup-play manual in-progress. The company, the conversation and the warm sun upon the rolling downs made it an incredibly pleasurable journey... (even if the dog had to beg for a 'comfort stop' half way, so that it could hop off the bike and into a garden centre to 're-adjust' the plug in its burning, abused hole).

We finally found our hotel in Bournemouth just as the clouds started to thicken - but the rain wasn't enough to stop us from dropping our bags and heading out to the Quay. It was still early in the season, and not as busy as I have known it, but it was still wonderful to see so many beautiful bikes on display - and so many sexy young guys in their unknowingly perverse gear... I also know that Sir had immense pleasure in striding along proudly with His collared dog at heel, glinting padlock and dog-tag on display to all.

Sir had got a little cold on the run over, so we stopped at a nice little deli for a *huge* bowl of warming mushroom soup, cheese and bread. It was getting quite late and many of the bikes were heading home by the time we were done, and so we took a leisurely stroll back to the bike then chased the last of the pack back into Bournemouth.

---

Back at our Hotel room, and Sir pulled out a chair to have His pup sit quietly with its head in His warm leathered lap - stroking its ears and quietly crooning His thought of taking His pup to the next bike night dressed only in collar, chaps and harness: showing off His ink and walking him through the bikers on a leash so that they would all know I was HIS. The thought had His pup whining and wagging its arse in agreement, until Sir finally had to find a way to keep it quiet...

He hung my leash over the coat hook at first - made me sit, panting, whilst He stripped off both His own leather and mine - then He watched us both in the full-length mirror as His dog worked its muzzle onto His beautiful meat.

Premier Inn are not too generous with floor space, but Sir still managed to find room to have His pup sprawled on the floor - grunting percussively underneath His boots as He ground me underneath their cleated soles and worked out the knots in my back and chest with His weight... They might be sparing with space, but they are much more generous with their beds - which are just the right height for having a pup 'play dead' on, its head hanging over the edge so that its Man can get down into its throat without too much trouble...

They are nice big soft beds too - perfect for a Man to snuggle up with His pup afterwards.

---

Sadly, the bad weather found us the next morning, just as we were finishing our breakfast at the brilliantly eclectic Flirt - and so it was a fully rucca'd Man and waterproofed pup that headed on down the coast to Worthing. 

The English seaside in the rain is not the most pleasant place to be - but Sir had some family visits to make, and so the pup retired to its favourite haunt at the Dome Cafe (newly refurbished with delightfully vintage tables and chairs). I guess I must have looked a little incongruous in that dainty location, still in my collar and creaking padded leathers whilst I ate multiple slices of cake and sipped tea from bone china - but I confess that I spent a very happy couple of hours there, safely ensconced in the warm and dry whilst I patiently waited for my Man's 'Here boy!' text to pull me back out into the driving rain and the soggy ride back...

And it was a long and soggy ride too. Amazingly, the first full day of rain that we've had to endure in the many years that Sir has had me as pillion. But we chatted and laughed for much of the way, and at least it gave me a chance to finally try out the waterproof claims of my rain-suit (the confession of which had us both laughing that a true pervert can always find something positive and perverted in any situation).

Back at Sir's house, and the pup exchanged its damp bike gear for skin-tight leather jeans, ready to head on up to its own home. But Sir made me warm up with a mug of tea first - drank whilst sat with His socked feet in my lap, massaging away any cold cramps whilst we chatted about the pleasure of our time together. I had only intended to stay for a while, but His leather was so warm, and He smelt so good - and soon the pup's muzzle was gently licking away - and stirring us both into play space once more.

---

He told me to strip out of my leather and make myself ready, whilst He went to change into His Wescos and harness - then He pulled me up the stairs and into the playroom, His hand grabbing my jaw and my mouth filled with His gloved thumb.

Down on my knees, He exchanged His thumb for a breathe-through gag that had me drooling and groaning whilst He pulled and played with my nipples and nudged my cock and balls with His boots - then He released my mouth and let me work some of that drool into His boot leather. Lost in the pleasure of showing my devotion to Him, I was only barely aware of Him buckling a leather strap around my balls - then found myself grunting and moaning as He probed deep into my aching ring with His rubber night-stick.

When He felt I was open enough, He told me to carefully rise - which is when I realised that He had fastened a heavy weight to the parachute strap around my balls. The swinging weight pulled them down hard and sore - but the pressure made my cock drip as He pulled me to Him and pushed my face and hungry tongue into His armpits. The taste and smell of His scent drove me deep into sub-space, and I couldn't help but hump and grind into His booted leg - until finally He pulled me away from Him.

He held my face in His gloved hands - made me meet His eyes, dark and burning within the shade of His muir; then He told me He wanted to hear me ask Him to fuck me - so that I would know I was responsible for what would come next.

And, god help me, I asked Him. My eyes hungry and burning into His - begging Him to fuck me and to make me feel whole.

He bent me over the bench then - up on my booted toes with the ball weight swinging between my legs - my hole open and hungry as I looked over my shoulder to see Him harnessed and booted and towering over me in masculine strength and Masterful dominance - one gloved hand guiding Himself into me as the other pressed my head down into the padded leather...

He rode me hard - hard as the day before; rode me through my grunts and grimaces of pain - reminding me that I had wanted this, asked for this - begged for it. He even reached down to enfold my aching cock in His gloved hand to show me how much I needed it - and through the intensity and hunger and pain I knew that He was right: that only in giving myself to Him like this could I ever feel whole, ever feel fully the dog that I am and need to be.

And so I surrendered to my need and to His hunger - and in that surrender felt the pain of resistance transformed by the alchemy of submission into the liquid fire of hunger and arousal. Felt the burning power of Him build within me, flame through my core and wrap itself around both my brain and my cock. Felt them fused in one conflagration as my mind and body become one - filled only with Him and the power of His hunger. Felt the hot coals of my sex swell and pulse as He edged me closer and closer - driving into me as He swung the weight between my legs and squeezed the dripping end of my own doggy-cock; thrusting balls-deep into my core until I was no longer sure whether it was me He was milking, or Himself pushed so deep within me that He wore my skin, stretched taut as a condom, around His own meat...

I wanted to hold back - needed to feel Him cum first - but the intensity was too much; the fire overtook me and coursed down through my body in great spasms that lifted me from my feet - and had Him grunting as the rippling grip of my hole tried to suck His own cum from Him.

He fed me then: down on my knees with both my cock and my hole dripping their juices onto the floor between my boots. His seed burnt upon my tongue as I stared up at Him with love and devotion too strong to ever put into words.

My Man, my Master, my everything.

---

When He finally unlocked my collar and sent me home, it was into some of the worst rain I have had to drive through. Had I been capable of thought, I might have asked to stay the night - but then that would have meant another morning of the dog awakening us both with its nuzzles and wriggles, so perhaps it was best that I didn't.

I was a saddle-sore little pup for the next couple of days too - but I chose to wear it as a badge of pride for the pleasure I had been able to give...


Thursday, May 10, 2012

"With loving sacrifice, thy shrine I adorn"

My wonderful friend, Doug, has once more had me deep in thought. 

We had been talking about the playfulness i feel in puppy-play. I had said: "the playfulness and joy-in-life is very close to the surface, even when we're in the deepest and most intense of spaces".

But we then went on to discuss those 'deepest and most intense of spaces' - with me saying that "The hunger is there too though, so it's not all playing the fool and hilarity -sometimes it is simply about sacrificing my body to Him in love and service, regardless of how it might hurt...

The language surprised him, but for me, it does feel right to describe my surrender to my Man as a form of sacrifice. 

I am a pagan pup, and sacrifice for me does not mean some Lenten morality of self-flagellation or guilt-ridden deprivation. For me, sacrifice doesn't mean giving something up: it means offering it, wholly, to something greater than yourself - freely and without limit, and without any thought for what you may receive in return. 

Whether it be to our gods or to our loved ones, we sacrifice the best of what we have to the things that give meaning and purpose to our lives - knowing that only the best of what we have is worthy of that gifting. We give of our time, our hearts, and our love to those that mean the most to us. 

In that giving - in that loving sacrifice - we learn the true value of that which we surrender, and so the gift itself is made even greater.

I surrender my body and mind to my Man: purely and completely, with perfect love and devotion. I give of myself fully: place my body in His service so that He may take pleasure in it and pleasure from it. And though I do not ask for it, I find that I am rewarded, as He gifts my love and pleasure back to me, amplified threefold and more. 

I pour myself out upon the altar of His pleasure - and feel myself transformed by the fire of His love in turn. As I give myself freely to Him, so He gives me my Self back - enriched and made golden by His love and His protection.

I know that we are both made greater in this sacrifice of love and service - this gifting of bodies and minds to pleasure and Pride. 

Wednesday, May 02, 2012

Thank you for the reviews and ratings!

Wow - i am just so psyched about some of the incredible reviews 'Assimilation' has been receiving on Amazon:

"amazingly erotic scenes and fantasies" 
"incredibly insightful, highly intelligent, and superbly erotic " 
"A brilliant peek into a fascinating fetish."

Thank you guys!! It's an honour to know that you enjoyed the book enough to write such nice reviews - and that you are so pleased to have my words in a physical 'keep-sake' form :)

I won't rest on my laurels though, I swear - not now that I have a 'public' to serve! I'm still writing the new book, and will endeavour to make you all as happy with this new one as you have been with the last.

humbly - and happily - yours
bootbrush



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