Good Dog

Randy, lying in his basement dog cage, heard Christopher pad across the kitchen floor and pause at the cellar door. He hoped Christopher would come down and relieve him of his boredom. He was not disappointed. The door opened and Randy saw his master's form framed in the doorway. He barked excitedly and wagged his tail. "Happy to see me, Old Boy?" Christopher asked.

Randy continued barking and wagging. "You're such a good dog," Christopher said. He unlocked the cage and sat on the sofa.

"Come here, Boy," he said and patted his knee.

Randy nudged open the cage door with his head and ran clumsily to his master barking happily.

"All right, Boy," Christopher said. "Settle down." He tousled Randy's curls and rubbed his head and neck. "Settle down," he repeated.

Randy quit his barking and stood still.

"Sit," Christopher ordered. Randy sat dog-like at his master's feet.

"Good boy," he said still petting and rubbing.

"It's a nice evening," he said. "Wanna eat your supper outside?"

Randy looked into his master's eyes and barked twice.

"Good. Let's go." He clipped the chain leash into place on his collar and led his dog upstairs and outside.

Randy gobbled down his food as fast as he could knowing that dogs wolfed down their food and that his master expected him to be as true to real dog behavior as he could.

With his supper bowl licked clean, Randy went and stood before his master and panted, hoping he would be rewarded. Christopher tousled his hair roughly and put his neck in a soft arm lock. Randy growled and shook his head from side to side until Christopher relaxed his hold. Randy ran a few feet off and turned on his master. Christopher lunged at him and wrestled him to the ground. They played their rough game for a few minutes before Christopher's cell phone rang. He stood and walked to his lounge chair.

"Hello," he said. "That's right. . . . Yeah, I heard. . . . Yeah, he's been here just over a week. . . . Sure, that'd be great. See you then."

He snapped his cell phone closed and addressed Randy. "Looks like we're gonna have company. Or maybe more properly, you're going to have company."

Randy cocked his head and looked at him quizzically.

"My old buddy from college days is coming by. He has a slave dog and he wants you two to meet."

Randy looked at him and blinked. "I know, you poor bastard. You have no idea what I'm talking about. I guess I'm just talking to hear myself.

"Anyway, Paul - that's Mr. Cimeneaux to you - will be here in half an hour. His slave dog, Rowdy, will be with him.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior when they get here. Bark a greeting, but don't try to be intimidating. Anyone as cute as you couldn't intimidate anyone anyway."

He bent down and rubbed Randy's curls. "Sniff Rowdy's ass if you like," he went on. "but nothing more. Maybe you should take your cues from Rowdy. He's been at this business for several months now - maybe a year - and Paul has taught him all the correct protocols. At least, I hope he has.

"I'm gonna get some snacks ready, but before I do, I'm going to put your dog hood on you. Come with me."

Master and dog went into the house. When he reemerged to range freely in the yard, Randy was wearing a brown vinyl dog hood. The ears were tall and the mouth opening large. He could easily perform any necessary task with it on: eat from his dish and suck Christopher's cock, for example.

Randy didn't like the hood. It made his head sweat and if he wore it too long his scalp itched, but his master wanted him to wear it tonight and that was enough for him. He curled up on the patio near his master's chair, head on paws, and waited while Christopher pottered around in the kitchen.

Christopher brought a cold beer with him when he came back to the patio. As Randy knew he would, he sat on his chair where Randy was waiting. He idly patted his dog's head and stroked his back.

Soon they heard someone lift the latch of the gate in the stockade fence. Randy began barking instantly and jumped to his feet. He ran to the gate and continued barking, forgetting his master's warning of just a few minutes ago.

Paul and Rowdy came into the yard. Paul led Rowdy toward the patio by a leash attached to a slave collar. Randy got close to Rowdy's head and continued to bark loudly.

"Quiet," Christopher yelled at Randy. "Stop that goddam barking."

Randy was a dog gone wild. He jumped from side to side and barked the while as Paul and Rowdy neared the patio. In his excitement, he rammed into Rowdy's shoulder and knocked him sideways into a small patio table sending Christopher's beer crashing to the bricks.

Christopher was on his feet. He grabbed Randy's leash near his collar and spun him around. "Into the house," he ordered. He led the subdued dog through the kitchen and down the steps to the basement. Randy headed to his cage but Christopher yanked his chain again. "No," he said loudly. "Bad dog," and he led him to the rack in the dungeon side of the cellar.

Without speaking further, Christopher clipped a short span of the chain to the rack not giving Randy much freedom of movement.

"I wanted to be proud of you tonight; to show you off as being the good dog I know you to be; but you were anything but good. Stay here and think over my instructions and how you failed to followed them. I will be back when my company leaves." He turned and left the room.

"Well," said Paul when he and Christopher were settled in their chairs. "Your action with Randy was decisive."

"He disobeyed me," Christopher said simply.

"I think under the circumstances that I'd better not stay too long. I know the sooner the punishment follows the infraction the better the lesson is learned."

"Relax," said Christopher. "No need to rush off. Randy's not going anywhere.

"I'll just clean up this broken bottle and get us each a beer. Be right back." He went into the kitchen and reappeared with a two cold beers and the tray of hors d'oeuvres he had prepared. He settled in his chair and sipped his beer. Rowdy was curled at his master's left foot, head on paws, apparently snoozing in the warm evening air.

"Randy's a fine looking pup," Paul said. "How old is he?"

"Nineteen, in human years," Christopher said.

"Sweet," said Paul. "Still a frisky pup," he added.

"Oh, yeah," Christopher agreed. "And obviously still has lots to learn. I'm surprised and more than a little disappointed in his behavior just now."

"He's awfully new to all this," Paul said. "He'll get the hang of it before long."

"Actually, he's coming along amazingly well," Christopher said. "He's a quick learner, and I don't have to coax him to perform. He seems to know what I want almost before I do. Gives great head," he added almost as an afterthought.

"Where'd you find him?"

"Actually, he found me at that trendy coffee bar at Austin and 6th. It attracts a lot of gays."

"Yeah, I know the place," Paul said.

"Anyway," Christopher went on, "he was hanging out with an a brick layer named Rick who works for Clay down at Statewide Construction. I noticed him right away, of course, but didn't pay too much attention since he and Rick seemed to be so tight. But then Rick left alone and Randy came over to where I was standing and began chatting me up. We hit it off right away. He came home with me that night and he fell into the role of servant right away."

"Cool."

"Absolutely," Christopher agreed. "He played hungry bottom boy that night and after I fucked is brains out I showed him around the house. He noticed that the kitchen sink was stacked with dirty dishes and asked if I wanted him to wash them. 'What the fuck,' I thought, 'if that's what he wants to do,' and he did. Imagine that! I asked him if he wanted to move in and be my houseboy - kidding, you know - and he said, 'What would that entail?'

"'That would entail,' I said in an exaggerated way, 'doing whatever you're told to do and to be naked while you're doing it.'

"'Being naked,' he said.

"'Twenty-four/seven,' I replied.

"He hesitated for a second, but only a second, and said, 'Sure. I could do that.'

"The next morning he was my slut bottom boy again.

"When we were eating breakfast, he asked if he could paint the kitchen yellow to brighten it up. I asked him if he were a painter.

"'Not professionally,' he said, 'but I painted every room of my parents' house. It took me a couple of years and I think I did a pretty good job if I do say so myself. So, to answer your question, yes, I'm a painter.'

"I couldn't have been happier."

"Guess not," Paul mused.

* * *

When Paul and Rowdy finally left, Christopher went back to the basement and to his bound dog.

"I can't figure what the hell got into you. You can't go around knocking people down and upsetting furniture," Christopher said. "Have you thought over what I said?"

"Woof, woof," Randy said softly.

"Answer me like a man," Christopher ordered.

"Yes, Sir," Randy said softly.

"Louder, you shit slave. Say it so I can hear you."

"Yes, Sir," Randy said much louder than before.

"That's better. Say it again." Christopher was speaking forcefully. "Say it so the whole neighborhood can hear."

"Yes, Sir," Randy shouted.

"You disobeyed a direct order I gave you. What do you have to say about that?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Randy shouted.

"That doesn't cut it, you dumb fuck." Randy could feel droplets of spittle on his back as Christopher ranted. "You are going to be punished for your willful disobedience."

"Yes, Sir."

Christopher took a small flexible rod from his wall of torture implements. He rubbed it over Randy's back.

"You deserve every swat I am going to give you. You recognize the truth in that, don't you, Slave?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You are going to be grateful for my correcting you, aren't you, Slave?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How are you going to show your appreciation to me?"

"However you wish, Sir. I will do whatever you say."

"You will count off the swats I give you, and you will thank me for each one. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir."

Christopher smacked him on the round of his ass.

"One. Thank you, Sir."

After three seconds he hit him again in the same place.

"Two. Thank you, Sir."

Again.

"Three. Thank you, Sir."

Christopher paused and looked closely at his slave. There were tears on his cheeks, but he remained silent.

Four landed on his shoulders. Randy gasped and twisted his back.

Five. He writhed and this time and cried out.

"Take it, Fucker, and remember why this is necessary."

Six. Seven. Randy writhed with each swat and cried out a second time.

"Why am I punishing you, Slave?"

"Because I disobeyed you, Sir. Please, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."

"I guess you are."

Eight. "Please, Sir. No more, Sir. I'm sorry."

"No sniveling. I am your master. I will decide when you have had enough, and that time isn't yet.

Nine and ten fell on the small of his back.

Christopher loosened the chain and ordered Randy to stand on two feet with his back toward the wall. He fastened rings that bound him by wrists and ankles. He noticed that Randy had the beginnings of an erection. He grasped it tightly. "What's this?" he demanded.

"My cock, Sir," Randy said.

"It's getting hard," Christopher said. He jacked the cock in his hand. Randy tried to fuck Christopher's fist. "Don't even think of coming," he said. "Does my punishing you turn you on?"

"A little," Randy admitted sheepishly.

"Then you're ready for more?"

"Anything you think is best, Sir."

Christopher turned and took a flexible leather paddle from the wall. Randy's front was exposed and vulnerable.

Christopher tapped him lightly on his nipples with the paddle. He tapped harder on his chest and his stomach. Each tap became increasingly firm. He hit his stomach and thighs. Randy's skin turned lightly red where he had been swatted.

Then Christopher began to softly tap Randy's erection; on the top, on the underside. Randy winced at this. When Christopher began to tap his testicles, Randy tried to move his legs together to somehow protect the tender orbs, but the restraints prohibited much movement. Swat. He hit Randy's cock. Tap. He hit his balls. Again; cock, balls, thighs, balls, cock. Randy cried out, "Please, Master. Please stop."

Christopher did stop. He fondled Randy's cock and balls softly. Then he asked, "You got excited by the punishment, didn't you?"

"Excited, Sir?"

"Sexually stimulated. Being hit with the paddle made you get hard, didn't it?"

"Yes, Sir. I suppose it did."

"So, you'd be OK with some punishment techniques even when you've been a good slave; a good dog? It would stimulate you sexually?"

"Yes, Sir. I think I would."

"No one has ever done this to you until I started. Is that right?"

"That's right, Sir."

"But you've thought about it?"

"I heard about the scene, Sir, and I wondered what it wound be like. I sometimes fantasized about it."

"When you jacked off?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And you always submitted yourself to a dominant man? To a master?"

"To a dominate top, yes, Sir."

"Well," Christopher said. He turned and rehung the rod and the paddle to their places on the wall. "Now you know a little about the scene, as you call it."

"Yes, Sir."

"And you expect to learn a little more as the days go by?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And so you shall."

Christopher went to the corner closet and took out a thin cotton pallet. He unrolled the pallet onto the floor and covered it with an old quilt, one his grandmother kept on the foot of her bed. He stroked the quilt and momentarily remembered his grandmother.

Then he removed Randy's wrists and ankles from their restraints.

"Lie face down on the quilt," he said.

When Randy did as he was told, Christopher knelt beside him. He opened a jar of cream he had in his hand and spread some on Randy's back. Starting at the top of his shoulders, he spread the cream downward, across his back to his narrow waist. His touch was gentle; the cream soothing.

"How does this feel?" he asked softly.

"It feels good, Master. Thank you."

Christopher rubbed Randy's sides. He massaged the powerful muscles and returned to the small of his back. Randy had two dimples at the top of his ass mounds. Christopher leaned over and kissed the dimples. He took more of the cream and softly, gently, applied it to Randy's lovely ass and down his strong, downy legs.

He stood quickly and removed his jeans and shorts. He dipped his hand into the cream and applied a generous amount to Randy's ass crack. He fingered his hole and inserted a finger. Randy lifted his hips very slightly. "Do you like this?" Christopher asked.

"Yes, Master, I do."

Christopher moved his long finger in and out of Randy's hole. Each time he pressed against his boy's hard prostate, Randy exhaled short, barely audible gasp. Huhh. Huhh.

Christopher nudged Randy's thighs apart and knelt between them. He greased his cock, stroked it. It responded by becoming hard and erect. He placed his cock head against Randy's pucker. When Randy lifted his hips a second time, Christopher pushed and entered easily.

"Ahh," Randy sighed.

Christopher pushed his full length inside Randy and laid down on top of him. He absolutely loved as much skin on skin contact as he could get. He raised and lowered his hips, fucking Randy smoothly and completely. Randy sighed and raised his ass in small, rhythmical lifts against Christopher's downward movements. "Ahh," he cried over and over.

Christopher put his arms around Randy's chest and fucked his ass. In and out. "Ahh. God yes," Randy uttered.

The tempo of Christopher's fucking increased but the depth of his penetration remained unchanged. Deep.

He fucked Randy and kissed is neck. Randy turned his head and their lips touched; locked. Their kiss was passionate and Christopher's fucking insistent. Randy could feel Christopher's cock expand inside him. "Fuck, yes!" he gasped.

Christopher felt his climax growing. He pushed his hips hard against Randy's ass. He pulsed once. "I love the feel of you coming inside me," Randy said, and he lifted his ass high against Christopher's assault. "Fuck me. Give me your seed."

Christopher pushed hard again and shot a second stream of cum deep in Randy. He grunted and rammed again and again, shooting his load in hot, deep forceful jets.

When he was spent, he relaxed his weight on top of his boy. He was sweaty and he breathed hard against Randy's ear. "You are my pet," he whispered. "You are my own beautiful boy."

He rolled off Randy and sat on the edge of the small pallet. He smiled at Randy and petted his curls. "Would you like to sleep here tonight?" he asked. "You could be my man servant tonight and sleep here like a man. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Master. That would be a nice change from the dog cage. It tends to be cramped.

"If you please, Master," he added.

"Sure," Christopher said.

He took a tissue from the box and wiped away the excess lubricant from Randy's crack. He spread his cheeks, bent his head down and kissed his hole softly, and he licked it. Then he stood, took a clean blanket from his storage chest and spread it over Randy's recumbent frame. After he gave him a pillow he said, "Good night, Randy. My pet."

"Good night, Master," Randy replied.

Christopher climbed the stairs and turned out the light. He went directly to his own bed, a place that, no matter how much he loved his slave, was off limits to him. Both master and slave slept soundly all night.