The boat trip on Saturday was brilliant, but we were a little tired afterwards and so headed back to the hotel for a nap and a snuggle. We had planned to head for the official Uniform party at the Reizbar - but we were both feeling a little tired after having such a good time on Das Boat, and decided that we could have as much - if not MORE - fun by staying in instead.
For a pair of dedicated gear-perverts with over 40kg of perverted luggage with us, I'm afraid that we didn't even bother to 'get dressed'; well, not much...
Sir called His dog from the bed, then had him lie quiet - bollock naked and leashed to the table - whilst He pulled on His newly shined Dehners, sam browne, gloves and Muir. The low raked lighting only highlighted both the grain and the gloss on those beautiful boots, and just the effort of lying there, obedient and unmoving whilst He clicked across the bare wood floors had me trembling and breathless. I know that He saw and understood my struggle - because several times He made sure to stand as close as He could to my quietly whimpering muzzle without letting me touch Him, just to watch my trembling increase.
When He was ready, He finally stood before me - and only after making me wait another eternity did He give me the command to 'Sit!'
It's in the nature of a pup to only see the Divinity of His owner, but my Man really does look spectacular when wearing even the minimum of gear; He may have worn only those few straps of leather, boots and a cap - but He radiated such power and Masculinity that I knew I was purely and only His dog until He gave me permission to be otherwise.
He reached down - smiled as I lent my cheek submissively into the smooth grain of His tightly gloved hand, whined and sighed as He rubbed the back of my head and scratched my ears. Then He gave me the quiet command of 'Open!' - and slid His thumb into my mouth. The bitter grain of the leather was honey on my trapped tongue as He pulled my head towards Him: straightening my front legs and curving my back so He could look over my shoulders to see the gentle wagging of my tail.
He pulled out His thumb - and smiled as I obediently left my mouth open: my tongue just showing. He could see my eagerness, my need to lunge forward and suckle His meat - but instead, He gave me the fierce command to 'Wait!' - and then slowly pushed Himself into my passive muzzle: gently forcing apart my lips and teeth with His beautiful Manhood, inching Himself down into my mouth and then throat whilst I was helpless to do anything but sit, dog-like and trembling, whilst He invaded me and took His slow pleasure at this ultimate show of control.
Pleasing my Man with my tongue is normally one of the greatest pleasures that I know, but sitting there, passive, whilst He fucked my face was a torture. He took His time - and His pleasure - and not once did He allow me to move my tongue or take my own pleasure in pleasing Him. This was His pleasure, at His pace: and my muzzle and throat merely a warm, wet hole to be used.
I have never felt so incredibly and totally controlled as I did by that one command of 'Wait!' - nor so completely His dog.
When He finally let me take an active role and to start licking Him, I was so deep in pup-space that I was unable to do anything else: my humanity forgotten and body become dog-like, hands only paws pressed into the floor with my front legs straight, as I licked and groomed His meat - silent in my attentions but my tail wagging furiously to show my pleasure.
Sir says that He has never felt anything that feels quite like being licked-off like that: the subtlety and strength of His dogs tongue caressing and probing, the wet flatness of it rippling beneath Him, wrapping around Him - finding every tender edge and groove of His head - sure, being sucked off may be quicker, but it's only the dog's licky tongue that can have Him shaking and laughing as it brings Him to ecstatic release...