By Thunder
Oh fuck, indeed. This man whose boots I was licking was my business partner’s son? How the hell did that happen? When did he grow up? And how fucking hot is he? I had not seen him since he was a kid, and now that kid would be walking me? Damn. Again, how did this all happen?
As those thoughts swirled in my head, I realized that he had attached a leash to my collar and said, “Let’s go, boy.” As we started to walk into and around the woods, he reminded me that he believed that no dog should ever talk and that during our walks, which were scheduled for an hour each day this week, I would be rapidly punished if I said a word. However, that did not mean that he could not talk and, fuck, did he ever.
He discussed how hot he found it that he was able to walk a man like me and to help in me finding my proper place in life. He said that he and Todd met a year or two ago when he was owned by his first Master, a retired military captain, who wanted him to be further trained which is how he was introduced to Todd, who employed him to walk the dog he had been training at that time. He told me he didn’t like that dog, as he was a “twink with no soul that thought puppies should yap and wear clip on tails” but that he really enjoyed it later when “that twink was in all ways a dog never to even stand again,” but a job was a job, though he was much happier with me now.
It’s been three weeks since the last milking day, when my boyfriend Mark sabotaged my chance for release. Three weeks, and just one more to go before I could try to reverse the roles, and lock him up for a while. To date my dick has been locked in a steel cage for eight weeks, and I really miss stroking it.
