Gian's Puppy

The phone was far more effective than the alarm clock. The shrill tone was enough to wake even a sound sleeper like my Master. Master's arm made me safe and contented and my aching nipples and ass were constant reminders that I had been well used the night before. I had been up for some times because of the discomfort before the phone rang. My restless hands stroked his chest and abdomen, raking lightly with my nails. After his promise last night that more was to come, I could hardly stand to sit quietly and wait. Rubbing my face against the hair on his chest, I licked and suckled at his skin. His laugh rumbled against my tongue while he listened to his caller. A good pinch to my bum, and I was sent to the floor to wait patiently. Not much chance of that, of course. I slid off the bed with a pout and turned on my hands and knees three times before I curled up on the floor with my tongue lolling from the side of my mouth. I heard the smile when he said, "good puppy." Wagging my bum and heading to the closet on all fours with a bark, I decided to demonstrate what a good puppy I could be.

Master was sitting at the side of the bed when I came back into the room, still talking on the phone and idly stroking his cock. It caught me by surprise again—the pleasure of looking at him. My eyes raked him from head to toe and I licked my lips loudly and mouthed "yum". He is powerfully made and so damn male. His thick cock stirred at my blatant admiration, although the phone kept his attention. Tearing my gaze from it, I turned on my hands and knees to show him my surprise. The leather flogger brushed my thighs and made soft noises when I wagged my new tail proudly. The handle stretched my ass nicely, though not as well as his cock. Even with the generous lubricant it was slightly uncomfortable, but that would pass soon enough. With all the enthusiasm of a puppy, I pranced to Master and nuzzled his thigh. When Master ignored me I panted loudly and growled in my throat, grabbing and shaking the bedclothes to get his attention. I was laughing when he ended the phone call saying, "the dog needs to go out, but there will be an answer by e-mail in the morning."

I was not laughing when he told me to fetch his sneakers and the leash. Wrinkling my nose, I moved on all fours to rummage through the closet. The tail swished back and forth and distracted me repeatedly. When I came back Master was sliding his shirt over his head and I could tell by the expression on his face that I had annoyed him. I dropped the tennis shoes at his feet and smiled hopefully, before going back to the closet for the leash and collar that hung on a low hook. Maybe the fact that I played fetch with my mouth would return the smile to his face. When he sent me to fetch a newspaper, I knew that wasn't the case. I moved as quickly as I could, crawling to the chair where the newspaper was usually dropped after we spent a Sunday morning devouring it. Fast, was all I could think by then, move fast and please him. The newsprint was yuck in my mouth. I bumped my shoulder in a doorway on the way back but didn't stop until I had dropped the paper at his feet. The sneakers weren't on yet. It made my belly hot and tight, seeing his bare feet and jeans. That is so damn sexy to me for some reason. Not that his feet were pretty, they were just his and that is always enough to arouse me. Without being asked I turned so that my ass and the silly tail were high in the air and my nose was pressed to the ground. I did not have to force the little shiver of fear than ran down my spine. I was not worried about the paper swatting me. No, I was worried about the frown on Master's face and why it was there.

"Slave, do you want me to tell you that you are cute with that tail?" I nodded yes and whimpered in my throat, wiggling so the leather made a swooshing sound. "Whiny puppies are never cute," he reprimanded. Ah, I crossed a line when I interrupted the phone call. Ashamed that I had forgotten my place, I waited patiently while he sat and tied his sneakers-- sighing that I couldn't watch his bare feet anymore. The smacks with the newspaper were more noise than pain, but I whimpered and wiggled obediently. When he put the newspaper down I turned and licked his sneakers-- wiggling my whole body and promising with my enthusiasm to be good. Master laughed, a real deep-throated laugh that boded poorly for me. "You don't really think that was your punishment do you? Bring me the leash, slave and a garbage bag from under the sink."

I moved the leash a few feet, so that he could easily reach it and made haste to the cabinet under the sink. Impatient with the dog game, I opened the door with my hands and pulled a trash bag out of the yellow box. An icy fist grabbed my stomach and I gagged a little on my own fear. Only my desire to please him allowed me to move quickly back to the bedroom with the offending item between my teeth. When he took the bag from my mouth I could see how very serious he was. "Are you ready, bitch?" I nodded, and quietly whispered yes. Putting me in a hood was one of his most effective punishments. I hate the feeling of being closed in. The plastic bag was far more frightening to me than the hood he used in the past. When I looked at the floor it wasn't so bad. Of course, Master told me to raise my chin and look forward. His fingers probed until they found my mouth and I instinctively recoiled. Master took no notice as he ripped an opening in the plastic. The space was widened until my mouth and nose were exposed. My body visibly relaxed. The hole was pressed around my nose and two strips came off a tape roll (oh, I know that sound well). The sticky strips held the plastic at my chin and the bridge of my nose. If I hadn't been the bitch in the bag, I would have applauded his cleverness.

I didn't protest when he moved behind me. It felt like the bag was tied in a knot or bunched high between my shoulder blades. Familiar cuffs were put onto my wrists and I was unresisting as my hands were pulled tightly together at mid-spine. There was muttering about puppies and collars before the plastic was wrapped snug around my throat. And then it was very, very quiet-- my chance to adjust to the hot sack. Already my hair was slick with sweat and alarm skittered like a living thing across my skin. Fear filled my mouth with the taste of bile and sawdust. Without my hands, I was completely vulnerable. It did not matter that Master had used the same bondage on my wrists before with blindfold and gag. The small opening for breath was new and frightening. The hot bag blinded me and crinkled ridiculously every time I moved my head. It forcibly brought home that I was owned. My body, my pleasure, even my thoughts were subject to Master's needs and demands. It was the way things were. The way I preferred them. My anxiety receded some as I assumed the familiar posture. I spread my knees wide and arched my back, emphasizing Master's ass and tits. This was what I wanted: to be Master's, to be completely devoted to him. Owned by a man strong enough to impose his will on me so that my own wants melted beneath the compelling heat of his need.

That man was in front of me again, fingers resting at my lips. I obediently licked at them, savoring the salty taste. I had given myself completely to this new game; there was no need to explain. Master knew. He shocked me then, with a kiss pressed hard to my lips and a sharp tug at the ring above my clit-- the piercing I got for him, to show that I was his own. I was pulled to my bare feet and led through the house by his hand at the small of my back. The silly tail made soft noises and tickled my thighs. We were all the way to the smooth tile of the laundry room before I realized what felt so odd. Something kept brushing my knees and thighs. A familiar jingle of metal was enough to tell me the leash was attached to my hood ring. That realization hit me only a moment before the back door opened. 'I have to take the dog for a walk." He'd said that. I thought it cute. Nothing seemed cute to me now.

Even the insistent tug at my crotch couldn't compel me to move. I didn't know my jaw was hanging open until master offered to put something in it. I pressed my lips together so fast that I bit my tongue. I don't know how my shoes ended up on my feet. He was speaking, and I struggled to focus on the words, in spite of the fact that the door stood open. It is odd, that I could tell a thing like that. There was not a smell or a temperature change, but I could feel that there was open space where there should be none. "Do you know what I have in my pocket, slave? I'll bet you are ready to feel them again." I had no idea what he meant, but answered 'yes sir' just before he took my right nipple between his thumb and forefinger and attached the toothed clamp. My knees buckled and I gagged on the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. His hand on my elbow steadied me. I thanked him in a breathy whisper. Impulsively, wanting to please, I begged him for the other. And screamed with the pain once both my nipples were clamped. Clenching my jaw, I rocked and moaned my way through red waves of sensation. The metal teeth were efficient and very tight. It was agony. Not the exquisite pleasure of pain that Master usually gave me. No. Those clamps were discipline and the hurt was horrific and not sexual at all. I was on my knees then; unsure of how I got there. Gasping and panting, with my wrists behind my back, the tension between the two clips was unbearable. I tried in vain to bring my shoulders forward and ease my suffering. His calm words and sure hands soothed me through the worst of it. Calling me his bitch, his whore, his pain slut, stoking the flames of my devotion until I accepted his correction. Rubbing my face against his familiar thighs, I felt the slick plastic on my cheek instead of his jeans. My thank-you was high and breathy, and sincere. Sweet god, I love when he hurts me beyond what I think I can bear.

Back on my feet, I stayed bent slightly at the waist. It eased the ache some. Master would have none of it though, and chastised me about my posture. When I stood straight; trembling and sweating, He tugged slightly with the leash and invited me to shake my tail outside. Hissing and whimpering, I took a few tentative steps. One foot in front of the other, that was all I could think… step, step. Not the tearing at my nipples or the burn in my shoulders. I didn't think about the humiliation of standing in the backyard with a flogger shoved up my ass and a leash attached to my pussy and that hot, nasty bag over my face. I could not think of anything except obeying Master with one foot in front of the other. Worshiping him with my obedience.

His hands forced me to my knees, and grasping my hips, he made me move forward until there was a tension on the leash. The other end had to be attached to something. No matter how I held my head, I couldn't see what that was. The grass itched under my knees. I was vaguely aware that my nipples had adjusted to their particular torture if itchy grass had my attention. "Open." And then more insistent, "Open." Confused at first, I opened my mouth wide. The thin whip slid across my tongue. I licked and kissed the leather. And then it sliced like a razor across my ass. There was nowhere to go and no way to resist. The leash jerked back each time I moved. It held me as surely as an umbilical cord while Master laid his stripes on me with a maddening thoroughness. He had the patience of an artist. Each brush stroke was a searing thread leaving a delicate line of blood red. He ruthlessly prepared his canvas; moving up my back in increments until he reached my shoulders. My arms and hands were indiscriminately marked as well. In the end, he would break me. Then, from raw flesh Master would create a beautiful work that pleased him.

I was weeping openly now, wheezing and sobbing with the pain-- Master's pain, his gift to me. The leash was slack now. His hands rubbed the raised welts on my back, tracing some lightly and slapping his palm on others. "Draw it into you, little slave. Accept Master's pain. Embrace it with your heart." I wanted so much to obey. This wasn't submission for me: it was religion. I would sacrifice anything for Master. My entire body was trembling as he drew me to my feet and asked for my tongue. Reluctantly I stuck it out afraid of what was next. The clips from my nipples were released and a clothespin bit my tongue as the blood throbbed bright and hot where the clamps had been. I stumbled behind as he led me around the backyard. Drool was wet and shiny on my chin. There was no way to clean it up or stop it with the clothespin clamped hard on my tongue.

"This is a good spot," Master told me as he released my wrists. "Hands and knees, puppy." Cramped muscles adjusted again to free movement. As quickly as possible I fell to my knees and tested my weight on my hands. I was not prepared for him to jerk the flogger from my ass. My teeth snapped together on the fucking wooden clothespin. I yelped and my shoulders jerked with sobs again. I was sorry I had ever wagged my ass at him. "This is a good spot. Hurry, puppy. I have things to do." Confused by his directions, I waited for him to say more. He twisted one sore nipple and tugged my tit from my body, "Go, puppy and hurry." He thought I was going to pee in the grass? The man was fucking crazy if he thought that. Discerning my thoughts, Master grabbed a nipple in each hand, dared me to say it out loud. I didn't think anything then. My flesh was raw and cut. His touch was the center of my consciousness. I prayed to faint, wanting the escape. But things like that only happen in novels.

When his grip eased, I sat stubbornly, and tried to look serious. Of course, he couldn't see the stern expression on my face. It was covered with that ridiculous bag. Drool had run down onto my chest. I wasn't negotiating from a position of strength. The slave would lose this contest of wills—that was preordained. Master always wins. It is the thing I like most about him. "I can't, Master. Please, please don't ask me to do this." Only, it sounded like gibberish because of the pin. I growled in my throat and pulled back until the leash reminded me to be still.

An uncomfortable silence, and then Master said, "Guess else what I have in my pocket?" With my boobs swinging freely under me, he had no trouble tugging two cable ties into nice loops around first the left and then the right. Done well, cable ties are perfect for breast bondage. Even if I couldn't see, I knew that each breast jutted obscenely forward now and soon they would both be bright red. My nipples would become so engorged that they would throb with pain at a casual touch. There were tiny little clicks, as each tie was pulled just a bit tighter. Tight enough to tear my skin and leave bruises. The leash was passed through my thighs so that each tug rubbed it across my cunt and asshole. His foot pressed my shoulders to the ground as he pulled the leash. When the tension pleased him, he barked for me to turn my head to the side. The end of the leash was pressed in my open mouth and I was ordered to keep it there.

Busy as I was trying to hold on to the leash around the pin on my tongue and concentrating on breathing through my nose, I missed the telltale sound of Master's belt coming off. The first blow was a complete surprise. If you have never received a serious spanking, I assure you it is not just a single sensation. At least it is not if you are at the receiving end of it. First is the sound of the belt slicing through the air and snapping sharp and crisp against its target. Then the tightening of muscles, and heat that builds to a burn.

My hands jerked back to soothe the throb and the next two blows caught both palms. I screamed and dropped the leash, jerking my hands up and lacing them together under my forehead. I screamed again and again as the leather snapped methodically on my skin in a steady tattoo of heat and pain. I forgot that we were outside, forgot everything except the furious leather blows on my skin. The belt laid welts on the back of my thighs, cracking against my cunt. Deliberate strokes placed with the precision of railroad tracks. Desperate, I scraped the clothespin off with my teeth. My cries were thick with tears, "please, please, stop master. I'm sorry. I'll be good, please, don't. I'll pee, anything you want. I am sorry." Reduced then to incoherent babbling, I arched my back more and dug my nails into my palms. When I had no screams left, air hissed through my clenched teeth. I think I prayed.

When the assault ended, the belt was cinched tightly around my breasts. I discovered there was one scream left in me, as my tits were flattened and the tight rings of plastic cut into me. I exhaled sharply, and the belt was tightened just one more notch. Then Master's hands stroked my tender ass and traced the lines from the whip he had drawn across my back. "Do you want me to stop hurting you, little slave? Is it so hard to obey?" A deep shudder ran the length of my body. Everything hurt and the bag was suffocatingly hot. His two thumbs slipped into my ass and stretched the gaping hole farther. The area around my clit ring was raw and sore, my back and ass and thighs throbbed and my breasts were so painful that I could only breathe in short, sharp gasps. Low and clear, I answered, "Please hurt me, Master. I want everything you'll give me." The clothespin went back on my tongue and I was given another chance to be a good puppy. It was anticlimactic when I finally released my bladder. My thighs and belly were wet as we went back towards the house. Master whistled and I followed the sound as fast as I could.

On the patio, the leash was removed and Master took off my collar and the garbage bag. What an incredible relief. I hoped the clothespin would go, but he left that on my tongue as well as the binding on my abused tits. I rubbed my head against his legs and followed him back inside. Right inside the door his hand curled tightly in my hair, and urged me up to my knees. Hands shaking, I managed to unzip his pants and draw his thick straining cock out. Master's cock is beautiful. Thick and hard, it jutted proudly from his body. He rubbed the head across my upper lip and face. Tracing a sticky trail of fluid over my cheeks. A few experimental thrusts between my lips, and he removed the clothespin. Filling my mouth immediately instead with his demanding cock. I sucked eagerly, stroking his shaft with my sore tongue and trying to keep my lips wrapped around my teeth. My hands rubbed the hard planes of his thighs and kneaded his sexy ass under the denim.

"Don't move, girl." Each word was punctuated with a thrust of his cock. He was as deep as I could ever take him now. Crammed against the roof of my mouth with a good inch left outside my lips. Impatient, he pushed me back against the door and jerked my hair until I raised my chin. "Get it wet." I spit on my hand and stroked a few times. He fucked my mouth slow and easy until his cock was completely erect. I drew a breath when he paused. Trapped between the door and his body, I felt him shove the head deep in my throat. And I came. It was so fucking erotic and powerful to be taken that way that my cunt tightened and exploded in an incredible orgasm. He pulled back and I gasped. There was not enough time to breathe before he filled my throat again with his thick pole. I struggled and he waited. Drawing back long enough for me to suck air once or twice and then plunging forward again. It was a sensual dance that proved over and over who held the power.

His thrusts grew more erratic and I grew more desperate for a full breath of air. When he at last drew out of my mouth, I wheezed and rasped. I watched as he wrapped his hand around his cock. I love watching him work his own dick, but damn I wanted to taste him. Opening my mouth wide, I waited and his hand tightened in my hair. Master didn't disappoint me. Soon hot cum covered my face and I tasted his cream in my mouth. He rubbed his dick on my face and filled my mouth again. The grip on my hair eased. I felt him soften some in my mouth and dragged my nails over his balls lightly.