Things may happen

Like I said, part of puppy play for me revolves around the inherent humiliation of being dehumanized, especially if forced. This is sort of my fantasy/idealized scene, parts of which I’ve done before, parts of which I still want to do.

I dunno what I did wrong. You haven’t told me. Maybe I didn’t do anything wrong and you’re just in a mood. It doesn’t matter really. All I know is that you told me a few weeks ago that I should fight back and so here we are. The fact that you’re stronger, bigger than me means that I don’t really have a chance. Even if I manage to wriggle one of my wrists free you can still grab my collar and pull it tight so it starts choking me until I comply. Compliance. That’s a fun word. But you’ll have to earn it from me today. Punish me. Hurt me. Break me. This is getting borderline primal at this point. I’m pinned now. Your legs crushing my arms into my sides, legs flailing helplessly. You had it all planned out you son of a bitch! The mitts are right there, how could I miss them? You’ve got one of my wrists now, angled just so you’ve got full control. I know what’s coming next, it’s all downhill for me after this point. “Fuck you!” I spit, as I splay my fingers. It’s no use though. The mitt goes on, the belt gets pulled tight (my comfort be damned) and a padlock goes through the locking post. Wrist released and returned to my side, moving onto the other one now. The process repeats itself. You roll off me and I spring up, trying to fling the mitts off with momentum, then my teeth. “Aww, puppy doesn’t like his paws?” you chuckle.
“Fuck you! Get these off me!” I yell.

You’re in front of me in two strides. A hand comes out of nowhere, grabbing the collar around my neck and the next thing I see is the ceiling as you wrench my head back. “Puppies. Don’t. Speak.” you growl in my ear.”F-fuck you” I gasp. The collar tightens, an all too familiar feeling. I can’t let you win. Maybe you’ll give up before I pass out? Another three seconds pass in what feels like an eternity. I can feel the pulse in my neck. You’re not going to give up.”Wruff” I bark. Your hand loosens and repositions itself to push me to the ground. On all fours. Like a dog. No, a dog would know better. Like a puppy. Goddammit, you read me like a book. Motherfucker. I start to stand up but your boot finds its way to my back and pushes me all the way down, pinning me. Trying to squirm out from under you is impossible, the boot’s tread is new and sharp, clinging to the skin and pulling it. Your other boot parks itself in front of my face, right in front of my mouth. I know what you want and I know what I want to do, but I won’t give you the pleasure this time. I turn my head away. You sigh. I smile. A small victory. You step over to the table and start looking for something. I stay on the floor. Even if I managed to get up before you got to me, all the doors are locked and my fucking hands are useless in these goddamn mitts. You find what you’ve been looking for and step back over to me. Before I can react, you’re bending down and clipping a leash to my collar. Holding the other end, you take a seat before giving it a gentle tug, trying to decide how cooperative I’m going to be. I don’t budge. I won’t move. The tugging gets harder, even now I’m still outmatched. I have no choice but to follow the leash. It’s a maneuver you picked up from me. A simple one. Step on the leash’s clip, near the collar and slowly use your leverage to position my face near your boot. I can smell the leather now. God it’s intoxicating. I’m getting goosebumps. Muscles constrict, a bolt of adrenaline courses through me. An internal battle rages. Your boots are two of my favorite things on the planet. I love everything about them. But I love the force you’re using today just as much. “Lick” you growl. I’ve made up my mind though. “Go to hell” I respond. This earns me a smack to the back of the head. “Don’t speak. Lick” you order. I growl, a low, guttural sound. I’m proud of it, very few people get to hear this side of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch your bulge start to grow. I can see the outline of your cock through your jeans. I’ll deal with that later, my tongue is already busy.

I can taste the leather of your boots now. It’s subtle, almost undetectable. But it’s enough to keep me going. I start down near the toe, where I know you can feel my tongue pushing through the leather. It feels good, I should know, I’ve done this same thing to a handful of guys. Now I’m working my way up the arch, then up the sides along your calves. This is heaven. I wiggle my nose in between the boot and your jeans, inhaling deeply. It smells like dominance. I bring my hand up, to wrap my fingers around your leg, feel the boot, massage your calf. But the mitts don’t permit that, the best I can do is paw at your leg. Then I remember, this is a game. I smirk to myself and pull my head away, daring you to make the next move. You chuckle softly and get up, boot still holding the leash, and me, in place. More rummaging on the table, buckles and chains rattling. I wonder what could possibly come next, running ideas through my head. You turn back around, holding the muzzle in front of you. I immediately start to pull away, growling and gnashing my teeth. This, of course, is a pointless show of force. The last stand of a wild animal, just waiting to be tamed. Your hand on my collar again, tightening it. I gasp. I thrash. It’s no use. You’re too strong. I comply. The muzzle goes on, strapped down tight. You squat down, face level with mine, smiling wide like a jackass. “Good boy” you say, lightly slapping the side of my face. I growl. I’m not a good boy, I’m a human fucking male, I’m not supposed to be degraded like this. The boner in my jockstrap, constrained by a chastity cage, tells another story though. You stand up, grabbing my leash in one hand. I growl again, more in general dis/pleasure than anything else. You lead/drag me over to the kennel, a cage that’s just a little bit too small to be 100% comfortable in. You open the door and hold it. Waiting. This is a test. How broken am I in this little game of ours? A tug of the leash. Fuck it, I decide. You earned it. I crawl into the cage and curl up on the blanket, how generous of you. You reach inside in unclip the leash before closing the door and fastening it shut. I growl, then groan as my hands, now paws I remind myself, find their way to the plastic prison around my cock. It’s been… what, two weeks now? My cock twitches and I growl again. I give up on that pointless task and turn my attentions to the muzzle, trying to pull it off, but this too refuses to budge. How long are you going to leave me here, caged like the animal you’ve turned me into? Where are you? I hear noises from the next room, you’re close. That’s good. I wouldn’t be able to be in the headspace I am without being able to trust you. Time drags on. It could have been 15 minutes or three hours, I don’t know. Headspace does weird things to how I perceive time. The only thing that changes is that I have to take a piss now. The only good part about that is that it helps to curtail my raging boner, still trapped as it is in the cage. Finally you return. I’m near my breaking point now. I point as best I can towards my cock and whine through the muzzle. “Aww, puppy needs  to go?” you ask. I nod quickly, but you don’t make a move. I know what you’re waiting for me to do, you sick fuck. I growl softly and then manage a small bark. You smile (ugh), grab the leash, open the door and clip it to my collar before I lumber out. My attempt to stand and stretch my limbs is cut short by the leash. Humph. You start to walk towards the back door, away from the bathroom. This throws me for a loop, temporarily, but I remember what we’re doing and I get right back into it. You start pulling, softly at first and then harder until I have no choice but  to follow you. Soon we’re in the backyard, protected from prying eyes by a high fence, but that doesn’t make this any easier. You pull me over to the grass, pull my jock off and stand back to wait. Between my still subsiding hardon, the cock cage and general pee-shyness, it takes me a few moments, but eventually I piss in the grass, on all fours, like a puppy. The realization and headspace hit me again and I growl, flexing every muscle in my body. You’re standing nearby, the outline of your rock hard cock visible through the jeans. I glare at you through the muzzle. Sick fuck. Another tug of the leash and we’re heading back inside.

To be continued…

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