Today's is a pet-play excerpt from my story Good Doggy, which appeared in Nice Girls, Naughty Sex:
“Smells nice,” I said.
He cast me an odd look; there was warmth in his eyes, but speculation, too. Turning with the two bowls of pasta, he set one on the breakfast bar. I made to sit down.
“No, he said. “This one's yours.” Then he put the other bowl on the kitchen floor.
I stared at him.
“Doggies don't eat at the table, do they?” he asked. His gaze pointed me at the linoleum. “That's for you. Be a good girl.”
His voice was low, his expression firm. "Calm assertive energy" is what Cesar Millan would have called it. My legs suddenly felt weak. I'd never played this game before, not even with boyfriends I knew intimately – and here I was with a man I was only just getting to know.
But between my wobbly legs, oh, I was hot enough to melt. Without a word I sank to my knees. Craig nodded.
“That's right.” Then he went to sit at the breakfast bar and eat his supper, as I crouched over my own and lapped at it without cutlery or hands. Whenever I glanced up, I saw him watching me.
I tried to be neat, but I didn't finish it all; hunger was no longer important. Soon I crawled on all fours over to Craig and laid my chin on his knee. He stroked my hair back from my face and cleaned up a few flecks of pesto sauce with a piece of paper towel.
“Finished, girl?” he murmured. I didn't reply. Doggies don't talk, do they?
He'd already set out dessert; pana cotta and brittle almond biscotti. He broke off pieces of the thin biscuit, dipped them in the cream, and fed them to me. I pressed against him, trembling a little; it was colder down here on the floor. He reached down and found that my nipples were standing out like studs, and he played with them until I whined in my throat.
“You like having your tummy tickled, don't you, girl?”
I licked at his fingers and heard his breath catch. His eyes were dark with arousal and there was a bulge at his groin. This had as much of a grip on him as it did on me, despite his apparent calmness. I suppose I looked calm too, crouched there obediently at his feet. But my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my belly, and my sex was swollen and my panties were sodden.
I had no idea why I was reacting so strongly to this. I'd never tried it before. All I knew was that it meant something to me, deep inside.
“Okay.” Craig rose from his stool. The swell of his cock was tenting his trousers. “I don't think doggies should wear skirts, do you, Beth? Go into the living room and take off your clothes.”
I made to stand but he tapped me on the nose with a finger, gently.
“On all fours.”
So I crawled on hands and knees into the other room, and he walked behind me, watching the swing of my ass. Then he turned away and went into the bedroom, leaving me alone for the moment. Without daring to let myself think, I slipped off and neatly folded my clothes, down to my hold-up stockings and my thong and my silk camisole top, all in powder blue. Strangely, I didn't like standing like a human again; it made me feel self-conscious to be out of character.
I squirmed and wet my lips when Craig came back into the room and nodded approvingly.
He pointed at the carpet at his feet. “Sit.”
It was such a relief to obey, to have him play Master once more. The game was still on. I went to my knees before him, looking up at him with anticipation. He had a leather belt in his hand, which he looped about my neck and tightened to the innermost notch. It wasn’t tight on my neck, of course, but the leather strap fell heavy on my breasts when he dropped it.
“There. A doggy needs a collar.”
I lifted my head proudly. Then I leaned into him, flaring my nostrils, rubbing first the tip of my nose and then my face into his groin, feeling the thick length of his cock through the straining cloth. Craig wrapped his fingers in my hair and crushed me bruisingly to him, groaning under his breath.
“Are you going to show me how good you are?” he whispered. He fished something out of his pocket. I was surprised to see it was a table-tennis ball. “We're going to play Fetch, girl.” He threw the ball across the room, and it vanished behind the sofa. “Go get it, Beth!”
So I went to get it. I was a good doggy, after all. And it was weirdly fun, searching for the ball, snatching it in my mouth, and bringing it back for him. It was fun for Craig too, seeing me scramble over the furniture and hunting, head-down with my ass in the air, only the straining gusset of my thong protecting my split. Doggies aren't modest, after all.
I brought the ball back in my mouth and knelt to present it to him, and he threw it for me over and over again. Each time I returned, he'd removed another item of his clothing. Jacket, sweatshirt, long-sleeved cotton T-shirt. Bare-chested, his leanly muscular body was perfectly suited for the Salsa-dancing we'd learned together. Then shoes and socks and trousers, until he was standing only in clingy white cotton undershorts – and his appreciation of my performance was only too obvious.
By this time I was out of breath and dishevelled. I released the ping-pong ball from my lips into his open palm one more time. The last remnants of my lipstick were smeared on the plastic. I looked into his face, panting a little but trying to control the heave of my chest.
“Very good.” He caressed my face with his fingers. “And good doggies get a bone, don't they?” Pushing down the white cotton of his briefs he scooped his erect cock and tight balls out for inspection. I hadn't really seen his cock before, not in good light anyway. I'd felt it thick and hard and velvet-sheathed in my hand in the car, but this was the first time I'd looked it in the glistening eye: uncut, flushed darker than the rest of his body, and jerking with impatience. It was simply beautiful. My mouth watered.
“Do you want the bone, girl?” he asked.
I nodded, wide-eyed.
“No chewing,” he reminded me.
So I licked him. I want to suck – I wanted to suck it right into the back of my throat and feel his girth and taste his salt – but doggies don't suck, so I licked him instead, from root to tip, his cool balls too, and lapped at the seep of pre-cum. I drove him nearly over the edge with licking, until he had to push me away and get a grip on himself, snorting down his crooked nose.
“Heel,” he ordered, taking up the end of the belt. He walked me into his bedroom and pointed me at the double bed. “Up, girl,” he said, his voice ragged. “Up on the bed.”
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