By TheBadOne
Chapter One – At Attention, On Display and Isolated
I’m standing at attention. I don’t know what that means for the army, or anyone else for that matter, but when Master has decided that I’m to stand at attention, this is what it means for me.
First, I strip naked if I’m not already. I can’t just throw my clothes in a pile, either. I have to fold everything as I remove it and make a tidy stack, so that it draws out the undressing process longer. My posture is ramrod-straight, every muscle tightly holding me in the most upright possible position. My eyes are straight forward and not to move, even slightly, no matter what else is going on. My legs are apart- only slightly more than hip width apart. Not wide enough that it’s an obvious show of submission, but enough that it’s wider than I’m used to, and he has easy access to every inch of my body. And, I hardly need to add, I’m to keep my lips shut until I’m given permission to make any sort of noise.
It sounds hot, and easy. Which, sure, at first it’s easy. In the beginning you feel your sexiest and most confident in your submission when you are at attention, and master is appraising you- praising you, too, for your successful fitness routine, your painstaking grooming to make sure you’re a specimen both while at play and in the general public. One day he leaves the room while I’m at attention, coming back shortly with a glass of water for himself. A few days later, he’s pulled away from minding you for a business call. He puts you at attention in the corner while he takes a fifteen minute call. You feel like a sexy statue, your erection saluting your master for every second as you focus on your posture.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are above the age of consent, but that kinda goes out the window since they engage in non-consensual behavior. The fact that it turns out all right for our fictional protagonists’ relationship doesn’t make it OK IRL. Always keep it safe, sane, and consensual. Even if that means you have to learn how to communicate better. 
I am sick. I feel pretty crummy, but my Dom seems pretty happy about it for some reason.
“Fetch! Good boy!” Brett watched as Mascot chased after the leather-coated stick he’d thrown across the gym. The German Shepherd styled leather pup’s powerful and graceful movements were hypnotically natural and easy-looking. It still took Brett’s breath away. Like it had every day for the past several weeks. Brett had been true to his word. Every day after work, he stopped by the leather store and warehouse near the waterfront to visit Mascot. He’d walk in, greet the staff, then scan the security card he’d been given to access the pup training facility.