Monday, October 22, 2012

No #tattoo - but a #leather #fuck-pup play-date instead

Geoff and I had been booked for another day in the tattoo chair with @JoHarrisonTa2, but she called to say she was down with the dreaded flu and had to cancel - so I suddenly found myself with a day off and no plans.

Luckily, Sir had a day off too...

I headed down after work on the Thursday evening - stopping at home just long enough to change out of my civvies and into some leather (it was going to be rubber, but it's been a while since I wore my rubber jeans and I'm ashamed to say that they seem to have shrunk in the intervening months...).

Sir was just back from a ride - stripped out of His leathers, but still in His Frank Thomas thermal one-piece under-suit. He locked on my collar and then gathered me up into a big bear hug, crushing me against His chest and nuzzling His beard into my neck as I squirmed in pleasure - as He let me down, I couldn't help but slide my paws into the back-flap of His suit to stroke the lovely furr over His arse...

Sir made a cup of tea, then led us into the office so that the pup could sit at His feet whilst we looked through the Amsterdam Leather Pride brochure He had picked up in Berlin - discussing plans for the weekend and trying to decide which of the many parties and workshops we should attend. We are of course already booked for Master Olivier and Pup Sparky's 'Puppy play 101' workshop at the Amsterdam Kink Academy!

'Puppy play 101' - Amsterdam, 3/11/12


We also had a very nice chat about the new pup that Sir has been working with, and how nicely he is opening up to his inner pup under my Man's gentle, loving guidance.

Then Sir had me trot upstairs to tidy up ready for play whilst He went to 'Change into something more suitable than this 'romper-suit''

-o--o-
 
I trot into the playroom, and my puppy-heart leaps at the sight of my Master waiting for me in full leather: His feet encased in smoothly shining Denby Boots, with His long legs sheathed in thick-grained leather chaps and His chest and torso tightly buttoned within a leather sleeveless jacket - studded wrist protectors on His arms and gloves upon His beautiful strong hands. 

Every inch of Him radiates constrained power and leathered masculinity - and I find myself breathless and speechless as the dog in me rises. My Will melts, my humanity dissolves, and my knees buckle - until I find myself back down were I belong: on all fours, tongue lolling from a suddenly grinning muzzle - with my tail wagging excitedly and my dog-cock pressing painfully against the tight restriction of my jeans. 

He grins down and gives a little gesture with His hand - and I crawl across the floor to bury my suddenly moist muzzle into Him: breathing in His heady scent and letting it sink me down into perfect and blissfully thoughtless puppy surrender.

His leather tastes as good as He smells; I can feel the differing grains beneath my tongue: butter-soft over His chest - thick and rough where the chaps stretch across His thighs (feeling the muscle and sinew moving beneath as He flexes and shifts His weight) - mirror-smooth across the toe of His boot... I trace down His leathered body - letting my surrender flow from me as I pour my devotion into Him. With single-focused submission I explore each beautiful inch of Him with an eager tongue - dimly aware of the animal sounds of excitement that escape me: the panted moans and eager whimpers that express my love for Him more than any human words ever could. 

I am His: human body and k9 soul.

His gloved hand comes to rest upon the back of my collared neck - holds me down with my muzzle pressed against the smooth grain of His boots and my butt raised high. I grunt with pleasure as the leather crop stings across my jeans - the leather-upon-leather making a beautifully sharp 'Crack!'. For a moment, I feel the warmth of my Man's gloved hand as He strokes where the crop landed - and then the crop cracks across my arse again. 

Crack! 

Stroke. 

Crack! 

Stroke. 

Over and over - each crack more stinging than the last, each stroke more tender. Every Crack! accompanied by my answering bark, muffled where my mouth presses against the grain of His boot leather. 

I give my body up to the transforming power of His pain; open myself to Him as He expresses the essence of BDSM in this one act of pain and pleasure, Power and compassion, dominance and love. 

Finally, the cropping stops. Sir reaches down with a gloved hand and raises my head with His fingers cupping my chin and His thumb hooked into my mouth - I stare up into His eyes and can't help but wag my tail and give Him an eager (if muffled) 'Wuff!' of thanks. He ruffles my head with His other hand - and then makes me shudder and melt as He scratches my ear and tells me 'Good boy!'

He pats my head and then tells me 'Stay!' whilst He walks over to the fuck-bench and sits down, leathered legs widely planted with a perfect 'doggy-space' between His boots. He fixes me with an appreciative stare - and then tells me 'Strip! - but leave the boots on' 

I rise to 2-legs, bend to carefully unlace my Rangers, then slowly peel the tight leather jeans and shirt from my body - I feel my Man's gaze as I turn to place my folded shirt and jeans out of the way, and then bend to re-lace my boots; I know that He is enjoying the red marks that His crop has made across my now naked arse.
 
I turn to stand tall with my hands clasped behind my back and head high; there is no slave-like ducking or staring at the floor when I am with my Man - He wants to see PRIDE in the boys He owns and plays with. He pats His thigh - and with a grin I fold back down onto all-fours and bound over to scoot myself into the puppy-space He has saved for me between His legs - with a chuckle He grips my now-naked flesh between the leather of His boots and thighs and squeezes the breath from me in a grunting doggy-sigh of pleasure.

He lets me nuzzle and lick along His legs -greedily eye His meat, but obediently waiting for His permission - He makes me wait, and I can see how my obedience arouses Him all the more. Whilst my mouth is busy worshipping His leather, He reaches down to buckle restraints around my wrists and ankles. I present each limb gladly - surrendering my freedom to Him. And only then does He give me the permission I have waited for.

I breathe in His scent as I hover my mouth over the end of His meat - let Him feel the heat of my breath as I brush my lips against the smooth skin of His head. I feel the hot pulse of His blood and the sweet kick of His arousal. He pushes His hips forward and I open my mouth to take Him - rippling my tongue beneath Him as I relax my jaw and slowly push my head down towards His belly. I am only half-way down when I feel the hard press of Him against the back of my throat: I let my tongue relax downwards and lift the roof of my mouth up - let myself open up for Him as the full hot length of Him slides deep into my throat. 

And then I hold myself there - let my breathing stop as I am filled with Him, and Him alone. 

Carefully, I let my throat swallow around Him, so that He can feel my inner muscles ripple tightly around His head and shaft. I am rewarded by His shuddering sigh - and the reassuring tightening of His gloved hand against the back of my head as He quietly counts His slow thrusts: 

'One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten. Good boy!'

Between His boots, my dog-cock twitches in answer to each thrust, each count - and drips a pool of precum onto the rubber mat. 

He finally lets up His assault on my throat when He can feel it constrict on the edge of choking. Then He gathers me up to sit on the bench and catch myself: head buried in His chest so that each shuddering breath is filled with His scent and the scent of His leather. I nuzzle against Him and gladly sink ever deeper with each breath.

He lets me nuzzle for a while - my puppy teeth teasing at His nipples - and then He finally has me scoot down the bench to lie on my back whilst He buckles me into the travel sling from Master U.

With the leather straps supporting my thighs and my knees pressed up to my chest, I pull a leather pillow under my shoulders and neck so that I can watch my Man; He kneels down and kisses my exposed rear puppy fuck-hole - then watches my responses intently as He pulls on a rubber glove and gently applies some numbing cream to my tender ring. His gloved fingers are firm but gentle as He probes into me - slowly circling inside me as He feels my muscles relax and open - one finger, then two, then three...  

When He is satisfied that I am fully open and ready for Him, He stands - His probing fingers are replaced by the hot, hard press of His meat - my worked hole is too slick to resist Him - and I feel myself stretching open as He slowly forces Himself down into my core.

He takes several long, slow strokes - gently easing my hole ever wider; although my ring is numbed, I can still feel the aching stretch as I struggle to take His full girth and length. He looks down at my panting body, my tensed jaw and tells me 'Don't let me hurt you boy' - and I feel myself melting away in surrender at that coded command: opening up and drawing Him deeper into me until I feel the press of His head deep inside me, and heavy press of His balls against my outer ring. 

Slowly, powerfully, He starts to rock on His booted heels - driving Himself into me; he pushes all the way down to the hilt, then slowly draws back out until I can feel the ridge of His glans against the inner ring of my hole: teasing at my muscles and stoking His own arousal. I hold myself open for Him - concentrate on my breathing so that the intensity of it will not become too much too soon. The heat and press of Him, hard within me, is intoxicating; I try to stay relaxed, but finally the feelings are too intense, too close: the dog in me takes over, and I feel my ring clench hungrily around Him - the feel of His dog gripped around Him must be too much for Him too, because He arches His back in pleasure - pushing Himself  painfully deep into me so that we both have to pant and gasp, teetering on the blissful edge of pleasure-and-pain. 

Slowly He comes back down - pulls Himself almost out again, whilst we gather our breath. Then He starts the slow stroking into my relaxed hole once again - teasing into me until we both reach that edge of gasping tension once again. 

We fall into a perfect rhythm - hilt to head, over and over - breathing in unison, the moments stretch into an eternity of pleasure as our bodies merge into one in desire and hunger, submission and control. There is no Him, there is no me - there is only US...

And then, finally, there is that familiar pressure building inside of me, welling up and flowing out from my core in rippling tides of overwhelming intensity. I feel Him swell inside of me - hear His gasped and held breath that matches my own. I know that we are both helpless now - caught in a flood of arousal that will finally burst through any semblance of control or denial. I am surrendered to Him - riding only His command - and know that He is equally surrendered now to THIS moment, this experience. 

We hang in that breathless moment for what feels an eternity, starring deep into the blackness of each other's eyes - I am dimly aware of the thick streams of energy that pulse and throb between us - and then everything is washed away as we are both carried over the edge together and into blissful oblivion.

-o--o-

As I lie in His arms later that night, I am bathed in the sweet musk of my own cum where He smeared it from my pumping cock and across my chest; the sweet heady smell blends perfectly with His own rich scent as He holds me safe and warm. 

His mouth is hot as He kisses the back of my collared neck, and then gently breathes the last words I hear before I slip contentedly into sleep:

'Thank you, boy - fucking you feels so good, and it makes me so proud that you give yourself so freely for my pleasure. I love my dog!'

What pup (or boy!) could ever wish to hear a better lullaby?



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