Earn It Pup – Chapter 8

By Pup Shaggy


[Note: this is the final part of this story by Pup Shaggy. To begin at the very beginning, click here.]

I waited in darkness. In silence … for the most part. I didn’t even know if he was still in the room. But I knew how much he liked me groaning and whimpering in my gag, displaying the control he had over me as I wrestle with the chains and padlocks that he’d ‘given’ me; the bonds that held me. I’m on my chest, crushing the nipple clamps biting onto my sensitive nips. My legs held over my back in an arch, kept there by a short chain connected to my arms, themselves held across my back just under my shoulder blades as high up my back as they’d go. My collar also chained to something – I assume a radiator – to stop me from wriggling myself away, not that I would… not on purpose.

My hood buckled to my head, not even aware of the last time it hadn’t been. My vision black, my voice taken and my ears full of earplugs made of metal and plastic that blocked out every sound. You’d have to be screaming pretty loud for me to hear you with them in.

Every now and then, I’d struggle. For fun, and for him: Master Alex. But like I said, I had no idea if he was even with me. I’d have been concerned that someone on the other side of the hotel door would hear my noise and get concerned… but that wouldn’t happen… not this week… of all weeks. My limbs burned, my shoulders ached, and that was how both of us liked it; me in constant pain. You really can’t get used to it, no matter what you think. You can be tied up every day of your life and your limbs will never stop hurting or aching when you are. Plus, there’s always some new way he finds to make me groan and drool in pain. That was part of the fun for him, coming up with new ways to abuse me… And I loved it…

I was sweating in my cat suit like this: every square inch of my skin covered in a tight form-fitting suit that covered everything from the tips of my toes, right up to my neck; the only exception being two tiny rings in the fabric around each of my nipples exposing them to the air. Right now though, vicious metal clamps made sure they ached. The rim of the suit rested right under my collar. I mean everything as well; each individual toe, each finger, even my cock and balls had their own sheath built into the suit, sized to fit me perfectly; designed to stretch around my dick when I was hard and shrink when limp.

They cupped my balls perfectly. Not that you could see any of this at this point… first off, my cock was locked in a metal cage over the cat-suit sheath, obscuring the black reflective fabric by shiny chrome metal. On top of that, I had a strap-on harness that was in-distinguishable from my cat suit: only the floppy dog cock was obvious. A blood red, shiny smooth rubber dong bobbled around like a limp cock, complete with a large canine knot and a pouch that doubled back over my balls, making them seem bigger than they actually were. Although limp, it was still pretty firm and made a pretty good dildo to be fucked with… whenever I was given the opportunity. Now however, it was just for show, hidden under the leather crotch of my trousers which struggled to contain it; the bulge far larger than any normal person’s crotch.

So there was in fact four layers of fabric, separating my cock from the air around it. Four layers separating my junk from freedom… rubber from the cat-suit, metal from the chastity, the silicon of the dog cock and the leather of my trousers.

My legs were sweating more than anything else, probably from the strain of the bondage. I suppose the trousers didn’t help either. Master Alex had bought me my own pair as a present for my birthday. Along with a few other items but they were probably more for him than for me. They were loose down the legs and yet framed and groped my arse like tights. My feet as well: laced in 16 hole shined black boots locked on me with a small brass padlock laced through the top holes of each boot, trapping them on my feet. I’d be smelling the inside of those tonight… Or Master’s own if I was lucky and if I behaved. If I was really good, he’d let me play with them later…

My arse was full of my tail; we were now up to a 3 inch wide and 4 inch long bulb, the pure size making it beyond comfortable for me, locked in my arse like a seal. And that was it, my uniform for the next week: unless my proprietor had anything else in mind other than my collar – never to be removed – and the matching cuffs buckled tight over the cat suit and trousers; eight in all. Two for my wrists and ankles; another two for each of my thighs and biceps; enough D-rings to get me strapped or tied in any position that was required.

How far I had come. I was proud of myself, but only because Master Alex was. He’d pushed me, harder than he’d pushed anyone and told me as much. And it had NOT been easy to get here, and there was still further to go. I’d shed more than my fair share of tears and insults at him. But it was worth it, just look at me now.

I was an owned, proud, pup. A had a decent job which I did mostly from home (on the floor of course), a loving partner, a fierce trainer. A life of obedience, loyalty, sex and fun.

Three years felt like ten. I snapped to when I felt something push up against the side of my head. No clue what it was, not able to see or hear but I leant into it, nuzzling it with my nose lovingly as I had been trained to do. Light flooded into my eyes as the blindfold was peeled off, and I was staring at Master Alex’s buckle biker boots. I gave a muffled bark, nuzzling them hungrier as I felt a hand on my head give a ruffle and I was let out of the hogtie. Scrambling up on all fours, stretching out like a dog would, I sat on my haunches looking up at him with a proud grin; puffing out my chest to show the muscle he’d ‘forced’ me to build.

I saw his smile, his mouth open to chuckle, and read the words ‘Good boy’ on his lips. I barked up at him again, wagging the gigantic tail in my arse. Normally, I’d only be deafened when I’d been naughty, or when I’d needed training to pay closer attention to my Masters voice… He’d once buried ear buds into my ears that blocked out all sound except for his voice when he spoke into a head-set. In fact, that was probably the first time he’d taken my hearing away and it had gotten a long, long time to get used to.

I’d forgotten what music sounded like at the end of those three months. But the results were worth it. Now? I could pick his voice out of a crowd of thirty and over, during a concert with blaring music and so much noise your ear drums would hurt.

The hardest part were the hand signals he’d taught me. Endless lists of signals that differentiated by a single finger or a sign you could blink and miss. He patted his leg on his right hand-side once… ‘Heel’… I trotted forward after him, my knees sinking into the cushioned knee pads built into the trousers, the boots stiff and unable to bend at the toes so I wouldn’t ruin them with ugly creases. I stopped at his feet as he settled down on the end of the hotel bed. He pointed his finger to the floor in front of him… ‘Sit’… And so I did, still looking up at him with glee, feeling the curve of my tail hit the floor as I returned to my haunches.

He just stared at me with a grin: there was no point talking to me, I wouldn’t be able to hear it. I’d gotten in trouble for reading lips countless times, there were few exceptions to that rule.

He patted the bed next to him. Getting up on to my paws, resting my first mitted hand on the bed looking at him for confirmation. He nodded and I pulled myself up, instantly jumping on top of him and plunging my hood into the side of his neck like a vampire. I could feel him laugh, his hands caress my back and tug at the base of my tail, which I still wagged. This was heaven; it’d have nothing for me that wasn’t right here on this bed.

He pulled my head up, planting a kiss on the end of my muzzle and then my forehead, pulling out the long cock gag embedded in my muzzle in one single motion. Pushing me backwards, he pulled out his own cock and I leapt on it like a child, taking it whole in my mouth, sucking on it feverishly. I longed for this taste, this feeling. I was addicted, trained to yearn for it every second of every day.

Either it was his training, or some weird coincidence, but I truly only ever loved the taste of his cock. Everyone else’s always seemed to taste weird, or smell weird or be off in some way… his was perfect. And it didn’t take me long to bring him to an orgasm. Three years of training does wonders.

He shot in my mouth, unloading his balls for the third time this morning before slipping the dildo gag back in place: no longer did we have to piss around unbuckling and strapping on various muzzles and attachments onto the hood, wasting valuable time; no longer did it come in various parts and various noses. No more waiting or playing about, There was only one now; one hood and one nose. Everything else was designed to go around it…. Or slip into it.

The dildo for example was the perfect size and shape for the bulb of the knot to settle just behind my teeth, the end sitting perfectly behind the ‘lips’ of the mouth keeping it in. Then we have a realistic bark brown dog muzzle, perfectly fitted to glide over the top of it, as did the gas mask, or the urinal, or the ring gag. It all could be placed over the top of this one hood, that itself was stylised and patterned to look like a German Shepard with a dash of egg-shell white thrown in for the eyebrows and a diamond crest on the forehead. It was my hood. Designed and hand-made just for me.

Satisfied with my effort, he picked up the brown muzzle and pulled it on me. This too was padlocked. The keys were left here with no need to bring with us. I wasn’t allowed to talk anyway… but the dildo always gave me something to do while I was waiting.

* * *

Moments later we were out in the hallway, heading downstairs and out to the party. Him in his ‘show attire’ which consisted of a police uniform style get-up, only un-adulterated thick leather rather than cotton and a bare chest to show off his own muscles he’d developed training me. Across his back however, was ‘K-9 unit’ in bright white text.

He kept me on a short leash the entire time, letting me know constantly where he was by a gentle tug… Just as he knew where I was, the GPS tracker still embedded in my collar. We got to the elevator, headed down to the first floor and got out onto the street with ease. No-one paid much attention to us and those that did, smiled or rubbed their crotches with lust. I didn’t care. I no longer cared what people thought or how they looked at me. Three years wearing a burgundy brown collar to university and then work briefly afterwards will do that, never once taking it off. Not even at airports which was always a bit of an issue.

The air was cold, the wind colder but the tall buildings kept us sheltered from the worst of it, reflecting the mornings rays down upon us. It was still weird being outside but not able to hear anything, especially in a city such as this. The cars would whoosh past us silently… footsteps going un-heard. Being in a hotel room was one thing, but being outside was un-naturally this quiet. The only thing I was permitted to hear was my own muffled noises. The roads were empty but for the usual morning joggers and this year’s tourists. I plodded along with ease, keeping up with Master without difficulty. I looked around at the empty streets, the ‘road closed’ signs blocking the tarmac.

We stopped at a cross-road, this one still in use as the morning vans drove past. Besides us was a hot-dog cart and a young guy with one of those silly paper hats stared down at me with a smile. He said something to Master Alex, he conversed back. I just waited patiently for the signal to change so we could cross.

The hot-dog guy came down and started scratching me through the cat-suit and I wriggled, murring happily a little, wagging my tail a fraction by instinct. I saw him chuckle, ruffling my head and scratching the long ears that danced around. I pawed at his leg a little, looking up at him through the eye holes of the hood.

He said something, but I had no clue what; his lips moving too fast for me to catch it. I tilted my head to the side quizzically, trying to look confused which was the basic reaction. Master must have said something because the guy looked back up at him, chuckling again. I assumed he was being told that I couldn’t hear anything because of the ear plugs. I read the word ‘wow’ on his lips as he continued patting me.

Before long the signal changed and I was pulled away, the guy waving me off after passing a free hot dog to Master Alex who thanked him. We progressed around a few corners and I began to see stalls being set up for today’s events. Not much had been put out yet, some were still un-occupied. But the kinky following had started to appear: guys in leather, latex, rubber… military uniforms, nurse outfits, high visibility jackets… it was all here and it was still only just being set up.

At first, we stopped a few times, strangers looking down at me with smiles and laughs patting my head, or groping my butt through all the fabric, or tugging my tail playfully. A couple of women cooed over at me taking more pictures than I could count while Master stood by idly, keeping a watchful eye on me as my belly was rubbed. But we must have been taking too long because Master Alex quickened the pace and before long we were at our destination.

His friend greeted him with a smile and a wave, ignoring me at first. They chatted for a bit conversing, his friend pointing to various things behind the small market tent behind him. His name I’d known only as Master Damian. We’d met several times when my training had become more strenuous and serious… as well as fittings for certain things. See this was Master Alex’s friend who crafted all the kinky things for him; hand-built ranging from my chastity cage with the catheter to my cat-suit and my dog hood; both the old design and this new one. I guess you could say I was the guinea pig for his work… and not all of his ideas worked.

He was also a lover of pups, perhaps more than Master Alex. He’d often pup-sitted for him when he was away and Master Drake was busy, and they always ended with us sleeping together in a tight hug together. Not that he didn’t have his own perverse side, he’d take great delight in playing with me in Master Alex’s dungeon, half of which Damien had designed and built himself.

I sat on my legs again, looking around at my surroundings. This side of the street were all stalls like Master Damien’s, some occupied, some setting up, others empty. The one to the left looked like it was selling sweets or biscuits or something… “Horny treats,” was the logo. The one on the right boasted a supply of gags and hoods that only got more diverse and more sadistic as they were unpacked and displayed. The other side of the street was bare and was left open for people to pass by. At one point a guy, probably over seventy years was pulling along a leather gimp who could neither see nor speak, trapped in a strait-jacket that looked too small for him. I watched as they moved along the street, the older guy pulling him along without patience, spotting me stare and winked over at me.

They stopped for a moment, the older guy giving his slave’s crotch a good grope, and then a thwack that made me wince, the gimp doubling over forward in pain. Then they continued on, giving me a wave goodbye and another wink.

About then I felt a tug on my collar and looked up at my two masters, who were both looking down at me. They were still talking to each other, but I dared not read their lips. Master Damien was the first to come down to my level and scratch my head. He was a nice guy; about 37, a jawline full of stubble and a body built like a rugby player. I think he was Australian, or something close to it, I never was good at picking up on accents. He himself wasn’t wearing a top, only a full body harness that hugged him tightly, his biceps each with their own wristband as were his wrists. His weren’t cuffs though. His displayed dominance, mine displayed my position in the world.

His smile wasn’t as nearly as hot as Master Alex’s though. He scratched my head, giving my muzzled nose a pat, and then asked me a question directly. Once more I tilted my head and he laughed. “Good they work then,” was what he said next.

The two of them talked some more and I started getting restless, wandering around a little at their feet, never able to get more than half a meter away before Master Alex tugged me back. I would have almost missed the exchange had it not been for the birds pecking at discarded chips across the street. Master Alex passed Damien my lead, waved goodbye and started walking off. Instinctively, I followed, and was quickly pulled back by Damien. I whimpered out loud, tugging a little, confused at first as Master wandered off. He heard my whimper and turned, giving me a smile and a wave. He stretched out a finger right at me – his index – giving me a firm glare…. ‘Stay’ was the gist. So I watched as he disappeared back down the street, leaving me with Damien on this strange street.

Damien came beside me, feeling his hands stroke my back and pat my butt.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

By the time I was allowed to see again – I’d been blinded the moment Master Alex had left – a good couple of hours had passed. By now, Folsom was in full swing; The street that had once been empty was packed with people of different shapes and sizes; not to mention materials, kinks, ages, genders… hell a pair of bears dressed like Vikings gave me a good stare and grope minutes ago. The scene was indescribable, and not just because there was so much of it to look at.

Buried deep in my arse was an electro plug, the control of which had been placed in front of me with a placard stating ‘I’m a good dog; listen to me bark’. It wasn’t hard to listen to me whine I can tell you that. I’d been tied on this box next to Damien’s stand since the very beginning, like a display model. My lower legs roped to my thighs and stretched apart showing off the red rubber shlong squeezed through the zipper of my trousers, feeling the extra pressure on my chastised cock hidden beneath. My arms tied high up my back, locked to the same metal beam that my ankles and the back of my collar were padlocked to. The base of the beam itself was bolted to the top of the thick wooden crate beneath me, keeping me from falling over or moving around. I was a display mannequin, for his work and here I’d stay for him to sell his work.

‘I made this hood, see all the various parts for it’ which were of course scattered around on the top of the box around my displayed figure. All of it kept under constant observation so no-one walked off with any of it. ‘I made this cat-suit, see how it forms to fit him perfectly’ showing of the browns and black of the latex suit, stylised the same way as my hood, all of it opaque but for a bare strip of transparent latex down my belly showing of my nipples and my flat hairless chest underneath. ‘I made this pups cock too; go on, give it a tug, he can’t feel any of it, his cock is locked in chastity under there’… it didn’t stop people from trying, stroking it hungrily. I don’t think he told them that my balls were in there too because whenever they slapped them with the paddle that just happened to be sitting there, I jolted and whined and moaned and they always jumped at my reaction, laughing and stroking my head to apologise they struck it so hard.

I said before I was a mannequin… I don’t think mannequins usually get this much attention. People were taking pictures with me, or rather of me, talking to me, cuddling, scratching, petting me… or sending searing jolts of electricity through my arse making me howl out in agony as they played with the settings.

The older guy who wandered passed earlier with his leather gimp returned, smiling from across the street as he saw me strung up like this, his own slave following behind silently pulled along by a chain. Only now his blindfold had been removed and he could see, his hood replaced with a funnel gag that wrapped around his head. He talked to Damien for a bit, I assumed about me.

Again, it still got to me the fact I could hear absolutely none of any of this. This many people, the atmosphere, conversations and no doubt music… I heard none of it. I only heard myself. The endless silence, only ever able to hear panting, or wheezing, or groaning, or screaming as it burst from my throat…. It was unnerving, and I bet Damien had to explain to more than a few people why I wasn’t responding to their questions. I spotted a few ‘good boys’ on people’s mouths and whimpered happily back at them, but my body was straining and sweating and I could do nothing about the abuse strangers felt the need to put my arse, balls and then my nipples through.

The older master came in front of me, giving each of my nipple clamps – that had been clamped back on over an hour ago – a good twist and yank making me squirm and whine at him as he just stared on, smiling at me with glee. Damien was looking after me, so I knew I’d be safe. Still, the whole scenario was making my cock strain in its cage and the rubber shlong in front of me rose and fell with each of my attempts to get hard. Pre dribbled out the end of it; the fake having a tube that connected it to the actual, buried within. The result was I could piss and pre and cum through it without a need for release. Everything I wore was designed with that in mind: with no need for removal.

The guy rubbed a gloved hand against the side of my face, I felt his fingers curl up beside me and I whimpered meekly in reply, looking at him through pleading eyes. He wanted tears though, as he pulled off the clamps one at a time, and once again, my head reeled back and an agonised yell tried to pass through my mouth, blocked by the cock in its way. I faintly heard his laugh… damn he must have laughed loudly. I shivered a little, quivering in my bondage as the stranger patted me on the head, the beam behind me holding my head up and forward.

He turned back to Damien, pointing at my cock, the two of them talking briefly some more before he pulled his gimp over in front of me. He – or it – looked down at me and I could just barely make out his brown eyes. Even I could tell he was grinning, he loved this as much as I did. He was pushed to his knees, his crotch in front of mine and with a little help from his own Sir, the funnel of his gag was placed directly in front of my fake twitching cock which Damien held still. I got the idea, I was to pee in this strangers face and he’d have to drink it. I did need to pee, and badly, I’d been trained to wait, no matter how much it hurt.

At first something in me stopped the flow… Perhaps guilt. I still wasn’t a fan of the taste of urine but I guess that’s why Master Alex and Drake loved pissing in my mouth so much. But when Damien came round in front of me and gave me the hand signal to ‘piss’ I couldn’t get out of it and deny the gimp his drink. So I let loose, groaning as I released what was stored in my bladder. Most of it probably wasn’t even mine. I could barely see it shoot out of my red rocket below me, straight into the funnel with a harsh intensity. The gimp below me must have been better experienced because the funnel emptied as fast as it filled and it was empty when I came to a trickle.

We’d gathered a small crowd of spectators by then, and all of them clapped and laughed as we finished. A few of them had their phones out and had recorded the whole thing. I saw a few cocks out there as well. Mostly I was thankful the muzzle had been locked on and Master Alex hadn’t given Damien the keys for it. Fairly certain after that, a few of the spectators wouldn’t mind using me as a urinal themselves.

To thank me the master gave me a pet, a ‘good bitch’ escaping his lips and gave me a jolt with the electro plug in my arse as he wandered off. Even the gimp sort of bobbed his head at me and winked. Just after that, I was blindfolded again and sent back into darkness. From then on, any hand that groped me or touched me, or tugged at my fake cock, or paddled my balls all made me jump and whine as I rested in darkness and silence.

The hours went past, one by one. I’d gotten a lot of practice at being patient by now thankfully and knew that it was better to just take it all. I was never given much of an option mind you. By the next time the blindfold came of the street looked a bit calmer. Perhaps there was a show going on or something drawing a crowd because I didn’t think it could be the afternoon yet. I was greeted by Master Alex standing in front of me, all smile and leather. He hadn’t taken off his outfit. Instantly I tried to nuzzle him but my collar was yanked back by the pole and I let out a whine as he laughed at me.

He out stretched a hand and gently stroked my head, soothing me as I looked at him through strained tired eyes. This position wasn’t stressful, but it had been probably four and a bit hours by now and that alone would be the average bondage scene for the average person. He comforted me, stroking my chest and patting my head as he talked to Damien. Probably sharing what had transpired so far. As always, he paid attention to my nipples, making sure they were still sensitive as they’d been trained to be. It was no surprise when he re-attached the nipple clamps, this time with a chain linking them so anyone and everyone could give them a tug as well.

I’d gotten into the habit of just shutting everything out when I was like this. All that mattered was right here and right now. This was no exception. I didn’t care what would be happening later, who and where I’d be sleeping with, or what we’d be doing tomorrow, or that report I had to send next week for work. It was the pain in my tits, my straining locked cock against the metal and latex and the constant buzzing in my arse, now locked to a droll teasing as Damien had moved the control box away from stranger’s hands.

I was relieved when Master Alex brought out the keys to my muzzle, unlocking it from my face and then ever so slowly sliding out the dildo lodged in my mouth. I panted and thanked him with a whine as he patted me, staring into me with those piercing green eyes of his. He pulled out a 1.5 litre bottle that had become all too familiar for me to drink from but thankfully this one wasn’t piss…. At least not on its own.

70% of the bottle would be a protein shake, and considering the thick liquid swirling inside was a leafy dark green, I figured it was kale flavoured. The other 30% varied with each bottle. Sometimes it was piss, other times it was frozen and stored cum and spit… One time it was dirty water marinated in a month old sock, and considering he always wore thick boots at work and was always doing something in them… and the fact this had been over summer… the taste was intense. He had to force-feed most of that stuff to me. Whatever it was always seemed to overwhelm the taste of the shake though.

Master Alex referred to it as a ‘Shaggy Slurpie’. It was my daily feed whenever I would be facing serious long-term bondage and eating solid food was out of the question… And that just made me realise that I was going to be stuck here for a lot longer… and all I could do was hope that I wasn’t going to be left here overnight like this.

The lid already had a thick metal straw in it, perfect for me in my hooded state. I was pretty thirsty at this point, but I still was a bit apprehensive as Master Alex fed the metal straw through the lips of the hood to my mouth within. The few people there were still milling around seemed curious about the bottle of goop, not that they stayed to watch me slurp at it and whine quietly as the taste hit me. I couldn’t tell what the underlying flavour was… it wasn’t piss, maybe just water.

I pondered to myself as I sucked it in, the bottle being held up for me as Master Alex observed, always a smile on his face and a reassuring scratch to my forehead. I couldn’t drink the whole thing in one go, perhaps half of it maybe. The rest was stored away behind me for later.

They talked some more… It was the small things you miss; a conversation, a chat… hell listening to a conversation was something I started to miss. And his voice… But I was a dog, and expected to act like one. And dogs don’t understand human words… So, I gave him my best pleading puppy eyes I could manage and whimpering miserably at him… hoping for some attention…

I managed to get some, although not from whom I’d wanted. A young long haired guy who’d been working the booth next to ours caught my eye and he strolled over with a wide grin and a wave. I guess he was curious to see whom I belonged to because he and Alex started chatting to each other. Again, I might of well have been blindfolded because all I could do was look at them longingly and whimper meekly to myself. The temptation to read lips was always there… But Alex was smarter and faster than me. He knew, exactly when I was reading lips.

But then something happened that didn’t expect. Our neighbour – who had a casual ‘Surfer’ look about him apart from thin band of leather around his neck – showed me a biscuit in the shape of a bone. He waggled it in front of my nose annoyingly, and I sudden got a whiff of something tasty. My nose twitched and I felt my stomach growl as I was teased.

What had it said on his stand? Something… treats… I couldn’t remember. But I figured he must have been selling doggy treats or something because that bone shaped biscuit was making my stomach roll over. I was teased for a good minute before the digestive was popped into my muzzle and I jolted it down into my mouth. It tasted good, really good. I murred happily, showing my appreciation with a good bark. The second was balanced on the end of my nose and I didn’t need to see Alex’s hand gesture to know to wait.

So I waited… and waited… watching them stare at me and their grins get bigger until finally I was allowed to move and quickly gulped it down too.

I was too easily distracted really. If I hadn’t have been so engrossed, I would have noticed that by now our other neighbour had sauntered up and was already tossing Damien one of his own hoods who wasted no time in pulling the thick heavy rubber hood right over my already hooded head. My world went black once more, only I felt my dog hood constrict around my head as the thick rubber was pulled taught. I was left un-gagged, so whimpered and whined a little, as you would.

Little did I realise what was going on. The hood Damien had been tossed was thick, puffy and rubber. Of course, it was designed to be fitted over a dog hood… rather it was designed to be a dog hood in itself; thick pouches for the ears –which easily enveloped the ones I already had – a wide long nose, a tight fitting collar… My head suddenly grew two sizes.

The result was my head was in a sauna… and Damian and Alex had just agreed to keep me like this for another 5 hours.

* * *

The party was drawing to a close. Finally. One by one, the events ended, the shops closed and the bars opened for crowds of horny fetish wearing patrons to drink and fuck the night away. But me? I was ready for my dog: I had an aching hard-on in my pants and it was ready to be buried in its hole… And he was probably damn well ready for me. I got distracted for a bit on my way back to Damian’s stand; a guy was handcuffed to a tree blindfolded and left that way for anyone to grope. His owner was probably nearby watching, and his smooth rubber clad chest was too tempting not to pinch and grope and rub. It made me hunger for what was mine and what I owned.

It was sun-down by the time I reached Damien’s tent, that old kinky fucker. He’d been bragging to everyone ‘look at my wares, see how they look on my pet here’… I shouldn’t have gambled Shaggy away playing poker. He was slumped over, defeated, his head low, it would have fallen off if it wasn’t connected to his neck. That thick rubber hand-made hood that guy had asked if Shag could model was gone as was himself.

The surfer was still here though selling his doggy treats, and he threw me a wink as I approached. Damian too was busy packing away, throwing me a smile.

“There you are, wondered if you were going to leave Shaggy with me all night.” Smug bastard.

“You wish, I think you’ve had more than enough time abusing my…”

“Err, what’s that? Who’s dog?” I gave a sigh.

You’re dog.”

“Damn straight. At least till monday anyway. Poor thing, passed out a couple of hours ago. Thing was sweating in that guys hood like… well, hell.” The fact it had been 60 degrees all day probably hadn’t helped, I bet there was a right proper layer of sweat under that cat-suit of his already. He’d be needing a good bath when this was over and we were back home.

Shaggy really did look dishevelled though. He was out, utterly, his bondage the only thing keeping him upright and not on the floor in a heap. I lifted his head using both my hands, his weak muscles too bent out of shape to do it themselves. His eyes fluttered a moment before creeping open a slither, letting me glimpse at those brown irises of his. He whimpered meekly, I saw the smile in his face, his eyes slowly shutting again in exhaustion. Damn he was out of it. I’d have to give him something to eat tonight or he’d never make it through tomorrow.

“You got any plans later? Want to go out fer’ a drink or something?” It was tempting. But I didn’t want to leave Shaggy on his own like this. So I declined politely.

“Nagh, I got to see this one safe and sound back at the hotel. You drink one to me yeah?” Damien was only too happy to agree, tossing me the keys to the padlocks keeping my dog up-right and not on the floor. As soon as his arms were freed, he slumped forward into me like a child. Bless him, he was always so happy to please. With a few quick words to Damien and a ‘see you back at the hotel room’ I carried my dog back home over my shoulder.

He was truly and utterly out of it, poor thing. I figured his arms and legs needed a rest from being bent up all day so I left him as he was on the bed, sprawled out breathing heavily as he chilled. I made it a little easier on him, unlocking and slipping off his boots, taking a good whiff before throwing them in an air-tight duffle bag… He’d be going home zipped up in that bag, smelling all the odours he’d produced over the weekend. I took off his fake cock as well, he wouldn’t be fucking anyone with that tonight… that bulge pronounced under the latex of his suit where his cock remains caged… His hood came off as well; giving his face a quick wipe with a towel when he was released from it. Damien wasn’t kidding; there was a layer of dried sweat over his entire face and his hair was matted and looked filthy. Even the two weeks’ worth of stubble was caked in crap.

For a while, I just laid there with him on the bed; his head on my lap, my fingers in his hair toying with the knots in it. Even greasy, it was still a nice thing to do. Eventually, Shaggy stirred awake, whimpering and yawning sweetly, pushing himself up on his paws to look at me.

It’d been a while since I’d seen him without a hood. It was an easy thing to forget; after all, when I thought of Shaggy – my dog – I saw him with his hood on; there was no-one underneath. But here he was, like a stranger; this messy, exhausted, misshapen and unkempt boy looking at me devotion and happiness and pride. I knew I was beaming it back to him.

He’d came a long way in three years. So had I. We still needed to get him a bit more muscle, and I still had his last hair removal session to book – which was already doing wonders – but he’d surpassed what I expected of him. So I have to keep raising the bar for him.

He gives me a kiss, feeling his stubble scratch my face and his tongue explore my mouth the way he loves. He wants to suck me off, Evident by the fact he sniffs and paws at crotch but I have other plans for my bone, and he always looks better gagged anyway. So instead I just cradle him in my arms tightly, my gloved hand wrapped over his lips and my thumb stroking his nose. It comes second nature now to hold him like that. It’s so tempting to take those ear plugs out and tell him how proud I am, how good he is… But he still has another day to go yet and I’ve got no clue what Damien has in store for him. It’s tempting to just ‘kidnap’ him and take him somewhere with me where I can take him for myself again. I really need to stop playing Poker with Damien. Throughout the night, I get whiffs of the ripe stench marinating under is cat-suit, left wondering what it must be like under there. He gives no complaints, only a little whine and whimper when I feel his chastity cage strain against my side under all that fabric. Thankfully I’ve still got a bottle of ‘Shaggy Slurpie’ in my bag, this time with a little kick of viagra in there to make him really strain in his cage and whine.

He always makes the cutest sounds. Admittedly they’re better when he’s gagged and I’m proper beating him, or he’s trying to plead for something but they still make me smile and murr proudly. I can’t help myself but to clip his wrist-cuffs together behind his back, and then slowly and teasingly cut off his air by crushing his nose between my thumb and index finger. He struggles, whines, whimpers; his life in my hand. I play with him like that for ages, letting him gasp for air, tapping his bulge while he recovers and then cutting it off again. I can see his crotch twitch and the hill in the shiny latex grow a little. He loves all of it.

I fucked him that night, I fucked him hard, rough and fast; just the way I know makes him squirm and beg and leak into his cage. Hitting him deep in his gutt and his mind as I stared down at him, grunting and yelling like a predator tearing apart a lump of meat after a hunt. Damien came in half way, watching eagerly dragging in his own bitch he’d snapped up from a bar. The two of them watched as I bred my property. Sure Damien had him for the weekend, but I needed to remind them both who Shaggy’s owner was. I didn’t acknowledge either of our spectators, not at least until I shot my third load right down his awaiting eager throat. By then Shaggy was already falling back out of it, I had to use one of Damien’s urinal gags just to get him to drink something. And while I watered him, we watched Damien have his way with the hole he’d found.

We slept that night like rocks, all of us. Shaggy locked in my arms, marinating in his own sweat, wrapped up in latex and leather with my cock up his arse and my hand clamped tight over his mouth. It was one of those things that were comforting for him, and I won’t deny it got me hard, knowing that I could literally take his breath away and suffocate him at any point I wanted. But for now, I let him sleep, and he needed it. It was like he’d been knocked out with a litre of chloroform. The alcohol was what knocked Damien out who was snoring away like a walrus in his own room. The tail he’d dragged in had been left with me to deal with, so I saw fit to chain him up in a hog tie and dumped on the floor at the foot of our bed like a rug; layers of rank sock – donated by Damien – duct tape and leather encasing his head as he struggled. He should be more careful with whom he’d hit on at a pub. Especially at Folsom. Hooded, gagged, moaning and whimpering himself like a needy horny slut, he whined for hours until exhaustion claimed him.

And so I was left alone, the last to drop off, thinking. I don’t know why but I saw this as a milestone, for me and Shaggy. I knew then and there, that I have to marry this pup, even if it was just to satisfy the wider world’s perception of ‘partners’. To them, we’d be the gay couple who chatted and smiled and laughed, who’d throw parties and entertain. To his folks, I’d be the carer, the older brother, the caring uncle even. The guy who’d given him the courage he needed… But those in the know, well they’d know just what happened when we were alone… They’d know Shaggy was my loyal, devoted cock-sucking pet who’d do anything I wanted him to if I gave him the right incentive… whom I trained from scratch, whom I could take – and have taken – any and every sense he had away till he was nothing but a whimpering, sobbing, crying bag of mutterings, And I owned him.

I owned his cute arse, his long hair, his neutered locked cock, his cute pleading voice and his begging puppy dog eyes…

And he owned me as well. He owned my love, my care, my trust, my devotion…

Shaggy, is mine. Now, and Forever.


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Metal would like to thank Pup Shaggy for writing “Earn It Pup”!

Today’s bondage fiction is sponsored by the men of Bad Boy Bondage

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3 thoughts on “Earn It Pup – Chapter 8”

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