The man who told me this story as true was pleasantly high at the time; he is dead now and so cannot be questioned about it; but I had always found him to be truthful in whatever he told me. The story sounds somewhat like one of those passed around in dog-eared, hard-to-read ditto'd pages, the kind we jerk off over before going on to real sex. So I don't know if this is true. I don't know if it is not true. If it is true, I don't know what part my friend played in it, if any, or how he came to know of it.
Jack was a high powered dynamic young executive just starting his own business. he had - or thought he had - little time to spend in frivolity and in playing games, in courtship. What he wanted was a steady dependable lover, one who would be understanding and ready to fuck when he(Jack) wanted to fuck, ready to be left alone when Jack wanted to be alone, ready to put Jack's business and pleasure first in all things at all the times. What Jack had, though, was Dennis; irresponsible cock-teasing Dennis who was habitually late, who always seemed to want to screw when Jack had to concentrate on business, who wanted to be alone when Jack found time to screw, who broke dates without warning. Dennis led the besotted Jack a merry dance for months.
Jack had allowed Dennis to set the pattern on their relationship early on, always forgiving, believing Dennis' promises to do better, and found that he could not change the pattern. That it could be changed he was sure, but he himself had not the time, or so he thought, to devote to making the change. Yet, it was either the pattern or say good-bye to Dennis, and besotted as he was, and as Dennis knew he was, he could not kick the younger man out of his life. Dennis had him utterly enslaved, ready to accept any crumbs from Dennis's table.
The idea first came from some talk Jack heard in O' Toole's Bar on one of his few free evenings out: Dennis had broken a date and Jack had savagely gone out drinking alone. In O' Toole's he overheard a few phrases which dropped the penny in his brain and gave him a new perspective. He asked a few questions of those he overheard. They answered, cautiously. Jack acted on this information. A few weeks passed. He made discreet inquiries and answered more questions. Finally he had the information and phone number he sought. He was reluctant to use it; but one weekend shortly thereafter, Jack came to his last straw.
At the start of the summer, Dennis and Jack had arranged to take a week's holiday together, leaving on a particular Monday morning. Apparently merely to demonstrate his power over Jack, on the preceding Saturday Dennis announced that he did not want to go to Fire Island after all, that Jack should cancel the house that he had rented, that they should go to San Francisco instead. Jack was lying next to Dennis when he said all this, his mouth still holding Dennis's cock, his own hard cock still unsatisfied. He objected, of course, but Dennis cajoled him as Dennis always did. But though Jack said yes to Dennis, this time inwardly refused; and while Dennis took his usual long shower, Jack made the phone call to the number he had got after those weeks of asking and waiting, a number that would answer 24 hours. His free had fisted his throbbing achingly hard cock while he talked.
A deep rumbling voice answered: "Allen's Pet Shop and Obedience School. Bruno speaking."
Jack hesitated; then, taking a deep breath, casting the die, he said, "This Jack Wilson. You were recommended to be by Frank Walton."
"Frank Walton. Oh, yes. He was satisfied with our service?"
"Yes. Yes, very satisfied. I have a pet that needs obedience training, a pet like Frank's."
"Oh. Would you describe the animal you want trained, Sir?"
"A white male human, 25, 175 pounds, 6', brown hair."
"Ah, one of those. We can certainly accommodate you. We have the finest trainer in New York City, actually in the entire eastern seaboard, Sir. But you do realize that some animals cannot be trained? Most can, but a very few cannot. If your animal refuses the training, we will release him and refund your money. But in our years of training we have had no failures."
"If he refuses training I do not want him at all."
"At the proper point in his training he will be told that you will reject him without this training. When will you bring him in, Sir?"
"Monday"
"Monday. Fine, Sir. We have a good man who will be available beginning on Monday, an Englishman who used to train the members of the Queen's Horse Guards."
Jack was afraid that Dennis might finish his shower before the conversation was finished and he mentioned this to Bruno who quickly asked him the remaining questions necessary, finishing with:
"Do you want your pet Dennis Wilson trained under that name or would you prefer a special name? Like Rex, or Fido?"
Jack thought a moment: he had not considered this earlier.
"Towser. My first dog was named Towser. Train him as Towser."
"Bring Towser to 300 Christopher Street, near Hudson Street, at 9:00, Monday morning, sharp. The door is painted black. Ring two short rings, open door, put Towser inside, close the door behind him."
He laughed. "Don't enter with Towser or you might find yourself in training too, Sir."
He gave instructions about payment, asked more questions.
Jack was drinking a beer when Dennis returned, shower damp and gleaming. Jack's hard dick was dripping pre-cum as he lay on the bed, fisting it with one hand, the beer in the other, in his mind's eye a vision of Dennis on all fours, a dog collar around his neck, his mouth open to suck Jack's big prick. Jack was smiling.
"Penny for your thoughts," said Dennis
"I called the airlines," lied Jack. "Our business reservations are for Monday noontime. I have some business on Hudson Street at 9:00 we can do on the way to JFK, some people I want you to meet."
"Oh, baby, thank you, you're so good to me, I love you so much." Dennis smiled s he snuggled close to Jack. "I'm gonna be so good to you ..."
That weekend Jack let Dennis have his way in everything, hopeful it would be the last time Dennis would have his way in anything.
At 9:00 sharp Monday morning the cab waited ("This won't take long" said Jack) before Christopher Street address while Jack rang the bell twice and pulled open the door. The hall was dimly lit.
"You go in first," said Jack , holding the door.
"O.K. This place looks empty. Sure it's the right place?"
Holding his flight bag with the money hidden from him in it, Dennis entered.
"It's the right place." said Jack, shutting the door behind him, leaving Dennis inside. Jack returned to the cab which took him to the depot where to caught the train to Fire Island. he'd enjoy himself in the meatrack there while Dennis would start his training.
Inside, Dennis found himself alone in a dim hall. He tried the door which Jack had shut on him, but it was locked now. In a panic he pounded on it shouting Jack's name, but only silence was heard from the other side. He stopped and faced the hall when he heard a strange metallic voice. There was no one to be seen and he pressed against the door as the disembodied voice repeated its command:
"Descend the stairs, dog."
He tried the door again, shouting, stopping and whirling to face the hall only when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
The hall went forward about ten feet and turned abruptly to descend a flight. Dennis saw on the wall a shadow of a human figure mounting toward his level, and then the figure reached Dennis' level and turned to face him. Dennis gasped: the big man was wearing only black leather: boots, pants with a bulging cod piece, narrow vest, a hood that had openings for the ears, eyes, nostrils, and mouth. It was padlocked shut on the right side of the neck. The huge arms and chest were bare, the powerful muscles gleaming in the light. The figure stepped towards Dennis and was swiftly joined by a second, even taller and more muscular, dressed like the first.
"You goddamn dog," snarled the first, "whadda you mean by not obeyin' orders? Makin' us come all the way up the fuckin' stairs to drag you down so's you can begin your fuckin' trainin', you goddamn son of a bitch. We got better things t' do, dog-face!"
Frantically, Dennis tried the door again before the two figures were on him, seizing him by the arms and forcibly carrying him and dragging him down the stairs into an empty room painted entirely in black. One of the giants locked the stair door behind them; ahead was another door, shut. They dropped Dennis on the floor roughly. The second man took a supple leather dog quirt from where it dangled against his right side.
The disembodied voice spoke.
"You, dog stay there on the floor where you belong. Do nothing until you are ordered to, and then obey instantly. Your life here will be easier if you realize that the quicker you obey an order, the more pleasant will pass your time. And do not talk back: You will speak only when you are told to speak. Paul, see to the bag.
The first man replied: he had taken Dennis' flight bag and had opened it. "Three books, a Trader Dick, pens, checkbook, the envelope that says 'Allen's Pet Shop for Towser.' "
"What's that?" shouted Dennis. "I never -Ouch!" he yelped as the dog quirt lashed across his levi'd ass.
"Shut up!" roared the second leatherman and struck Dennis again. He screamed but said no more, going absolutely rigid, staring at a framed motto hanging on the wall, a motto he just saw. In large letters it read:
"An East Indian mother's poem to her child:
"I would that life should hurt you, and you be unafraid of pain.' "
Dennis's stomach lurched as he read it from his position on the floor.
The first leatherman went on, ignoring the discipline two feet away. "Inside the envelope is the total sum of money required: the training is paid in full."
The voice said: "We shall send a receipt to this dog's Master. Paul bring the money and the envelope here. Jerry can handle this animal alone. Now dog listen to me and listen carefully - you laying there on the floor with an aching ass, I am talking to you. Answer me!"
"Yeah," muttered Dennis sullenly.
Instantly the whip descended on the helpless ass.
" 'Yes Sir' is what you reply. 'Yes Sir.' You call everybody here 'Sir' unless instructed otherwise. Understand, dog?"
The whip struck again.
"Yes Sir," shouted Dennis. "Please don't hit me again."
The whip slashed again.
"You say nothing except what you are asked. Understand?"
"Yes Sir, yes Sir!"
The voice spoke. "First, we have to see what we have to work with. You will stand up and strip off all your clothes; if you are not totally naked in sixty seconds from the time I say go you will whipped until naked. "Go."
It took a few seconds for Dennis to realize what the voice meant, and then he scrambled to avoid the whip. His Levi's tangled with his sneakers, and he lost time in getting them off, so he was still wearing his socks, shirt, and jockey shorts when the voice said, "Time." Jerry instantly lashed at the bare legs, leaving bright red streaks where the leather contacted with naked flesh. Crying for Jerry to stop, Dennis struggled with his clothes until he stood naked, his clothes in disarray on the floor around him. Jerry lowered the whip.
The voice said: "Empty your pockets. Fold your clothes and put them in the bag."
Dennis followed orders. His keys and small change clattered on the hard floor, partially muffled by a few dollar bills and cards. He knelt, swiftly packing the bag, moving even faster when Jerry caressed his back with the braided leather quirt.
Jerry took the bag and left the room, leaving the new dog alone with the voice.
When you are dismissed from this school, dog, all your things will be returned to you. You will have no use for them until then. You will be naked while you are here: dogs have no use for clothes, and you are a dog. All your wants will be supplied, providing you earn and deserve them. Now stand and stretch."
The new dog obeyed the command of the voice: he stretched toward the ceiling, standing on his toes, his muscles straining. The voice spoke; he twisted left to right, bending forward and back; he presented himself to the four walls and the hidden camera. Those watching in the control room saw a man of 25 with a petulant face crowned by long brown hair, slender but well developed, pecs covered with fine curly hair that stopped abruptly where the pecs met the firm belly. A fine column of hair trailed down the valley between his pecs, circled the indented belly button, and continued on to meet the wiry growth of curly hair that grew thickly around the base of the swinging cock and covered the egg-sized balls nestled in their dangling pouch. His legs were covered with the same fine hair that grew on the chest, hiding the red nipples there. His eyes were brown fringed with thick lashes.
Always narcissistic, Dennis strangely enjoyed showing himself off for the concealed tormentors, knowing that his body was well formed, a turn-on, even though he was bewildered and frightened by the position in which he found himself. What was Jack doing to him? Why was he here, posturing lewdly for invisible eyes, parts of his body red with lash marks? His cock, thick uncut ivory inches, thickening with gathering blood, bounced from thigh to thigh as Dennis posed and posed again in response to the voice's commands. At last, after what seemed to be hours, the voice ordered and obediently Dennis spread his legs and bent over, his hands parting his cheeks so his tiny brown pucker was exposed. Still holding his buns apart, he fell to his knees and leaned forward until his forehead and shoulders rested on the floor. The voice fell silent. He thought: what the fuck am I doing here? Do I like this? Why is my dick getting hard? In this position of abject subservience he remained until the door open and bootsteps thudded across the floor to stop in front of him. He sensed the newcomer's closeness from the smell of the leather, and abruptly a hand reached out and grabbed his hair and pulled up his head. Dennis moved his hands to keep his balance and was slapped across the face for not keeping his asshole exposed; his hands went back into place as his trainer spoke. A wide leather collar was held in front of his eyes - a dog collar! - was held to his lips while he obediently kissed it, was roughly fastened around his neck and a metal leash was attached to - a dog leash! What the fuck was happening?
What had Jack gotten him into? Why was his dick throbbing? He didn't understand he was now a slave.
"Come, dog." Jerry started toward the door, jerking on the leash.
Dennis started to his feet but was swiftly slapped down. On his hands and knees he crawled after the leather clad trainer.
They went down a hall, passing several closed doors. Near the end of the hall a door stood open and Dennis glanced in; what he saw made him halt his crawling progress for a few seconds until Jerry jerked the leash and made the slave gasp for breath and resume his slow march, the image impressed on his mind of two fine women, each in leather bra and high-heeled boots, sitting with legs widespread, and between those legs kneeling and crouching two slaves, each eating the exposed pussy. One slave was female, the other male - and the male, wearing chains, was being whipped by his Mistress with a supple riding crop. A leather Master and another male slave were in the back of the room, but Dennis did not see them distinctly.
Jerry opened the next door and guided the animal in. His brain still reeling from the sight through the open door, Dennis did not at first notice that Jerry had dropped his leash and left the room, leaving Dennis alone with another man, a bruiser whose bulging muscles threatened to burst out of the leather covering him. Like Jerry, he was wearing boots and leather pants with a cod-piece, and a leather vest that did little to cover the pectoral slabs and thick pelt of chest and belly hair. he was not wearing a hood, unlike Jerry. "Come here, animal," growled the man, and Dennis crawled closer, his leash trailing.
"Head down and legs apart."
His head on the floor, Dennis could only see the boots as the man walked around him, inspecting the animal before him. The man knelt and ran his hands over the crouching figure, fingering the nipples and pulling firmly on the balls until Dennis whimpered. He cupped the trust up end and pressed against the tinny pucker, incongruously quoting Yeats: "Consider beauty a sufficient end." The animal, a grad student in comparative lit, was startled when he recognized the phrase and raised his head; this disobedience was rewarded by a sharp slap on the upraised end; the Master pushed his head sharply against the floor, flattening his nose.
The man leaned against the edge of the table, legs spread, the dog between them. "Now you listen to me an you listen good; if I have to repeat any of this, you'll wish I hadn't. Now look at me, dog. Just raise your fuckin' head; keep your paws on the floor." His right hand cupped his groin. "You are the dog Towser." he spoke with an English accent, his cold bass voice sending shivers up the spine of the crouching Towser. Their eyes locked and never wavered until the Master ordered the animal to look elsewhere. "Remember that: you are the dog Towser. Towser is your name. Your Master Jack has brought you here for discipline and training. If you reject the training, he will reject you. But you are not yet prepared to make that choice. You may be wondering why he brought you here; perhaps he will tell you one day. This is an obedience school; we train four-legged animals; in this place we train two-legged animals, like yourself. You are going to be trained to be a dog slave for your Master Jack.
You will learn obedience, Towser, learn to obey instantly the moment you receive a command; you will learn to serve and to service. You will learn you are a worthless piece of dog shit, Towser, but we are going to make you into a dog slave. 'To enter in these bonds is to be free,' " he quoted Donne, and the slave's eyes widened as he recognized the poet. "If you disobey you will be punished, instantly, ruthlessly, painfully. Do you understand? Answer me!"
"Yes , Sir," whispered the new dog slave, "but I -"
The big hand concealed by the leather gauntlet swung and struck the slave's cheek, the noise cracking, and the Master's voice thundered: "You are a dog. A dog!. And dogs to not talk. Dogs bark! You will reply by barking, barking like a fuckin' dog because that is what you are now, a goddamn fuckin' dog. One bark for yes, two bark for no, though you will not have occasion to bark no. Now, do you understand? Answer me!"
The slave barked once. Jack, help me, he cried silently.
"You call that a bark of a dog? You sound like a stranded goldfish. Again!"
The slave barked louder'
"Now you sound like a Pekinese. You want to sound like that, like a puling bad-tempered lap dog? or like a real man dog? Speak!"
The dog barked a third time. Oh, God, listen to me!
"Well, that 's better. I don't want to waste my time on a lag dog: I get very angry with lap dogs; do you want to make me angry, Towser, dog?"
Oh, God, no, he didn't want to make this man angry. This time the bark was deep and firm and solid.
"Better. I shall enjoy training you, disciplining you, Towser. Remember: you are a dog here, dogs obey instantly or they are punished, dogs remain on all fours, dogs bark. Understand?"
A deep resonant bark. Oh, God, Jack! His dick throbbed.
"Now, tell me in words what you are."
Hesitantly, he spoke. "I am a - dog, Sir."
"Again. You sound uncertain."
More quickly: "I am a dog, Sir." But I'm not, I'm not, thought Dennis, I'm not! Jesus! Jack! His cock quivered.
"Shout!"
"I am a dog, Sir!" I'm not! Why am I saying this? I'm not!
"That's right," snarled the Master. Don't you forget it, or those lash marks will be joined by others. Put your head back down."
The self-proclaimed dog dropped back into a crouching position.
"I am your Master in this school. Kiss my boots."
The dog pressed his lips against the boots again, and yet again, before licking the dust from the boots at command, listening to his Master tell him every time he saw his Master he would at once show his dogdom, his submission, by kissing his boot without being told to, that when he met his Master Jack after graduation from obedience school (graduation from obedience school! Oh, God, what am I doing, licking dust from boots! Oh, Jesus, Jack!) the first thing he would do would be to kiss Jack's boots: and the new dog's tongue curled around the instep and heel.
When the Master was satisfied his boots were clean, by the hair he pulled up the dog on his haunches. Between the dog's thighs protruded upright the hard cock, the foreskin pulling back to allow the dark red head to show. Again they locked eyes.
The Master saw and noted the dog's erection. He ignored it, knowing it was a good sign.
" I am your Master and Chief Trainer while you are here; I am Master Edward. There will be others who will carry out specific aspects of your training, and you will obey them. But I and only I am your Master. When you are not with other trainers you will be with me: you will eat when I feed you, piss and shit when I let you, sleep when I permit you, cum when I allow you, serve any way I desire, service me with your mouth and asshole and body in all ways. Your body belongs to Master Jack, and by his permission, to me. Look at my crotch," and obediently the dog's eyes dropped to the bulging leather between the solid thighs. "You're a cocksuckin' dog slave, and now you're going to prove it. Get your face in my crotch, Towser, and make that leather shine."
Before the voice stopped, the dog's face was pressed against the genitals hidden by the supple leather, and his tongue was licking the curves and hollows, making the black leather shiny and wet, wishing the leather was not hiding the potent throbbing flesh. "Good dog." He felt a flush of pride. But I'm not a dog, why is Jack doing this, why do I like doing this, why is my cock hard? His tongue and mouth kissed their way down and up the impossibly thick tube that extended down the left leg solid and hard.
At command, the dog's teeth pulled away the leather from the snaps so the codpiece fell away from the body, exposing the biggest set of genitals he had ever seen. The balls were the size of tennis balls, slowly rising towards the base of the cock in their sac covered thickly with black hair, the hair that thinned out a little as it joined that on the belly. But the cock took the dog's breath away. Jack's cock was ten inches hard, but this was longer than that, and thicker, God!
Expertly the Master guided the slobbering mouth along the tube shooting at least a foot straight out from the hair forest, burying the face in the hair, forcing the nose to sniff deeply the odors that proclaimed the Master to be a man, pushing the face down deep beneath the balls to smell the funky sweat and shit that clung there, making the mouth lick and suck and take in the huge balls, before bringing the mouth back to the head of the cock and inserting the head into the gasping orifice.
Slowly he forced the tube deeper and deeper into the gasping hot cavity, stopping when the gag reflex began, waiting till that was finished before forcing deeper into the waiting throat. Dennis had never learned to deep throat Jack, but he applied his limited expertise to the trunk invading his helpless body - he did not want to make his Master angry by not taking the cock all the way - until at last he had the whole thing buried in his throat, his lips and nose hidden in the cock hair at the base.
"Good dog," crooned the Master, stroking the sucking head, "not many can take my cock all the way down the first time: your Master Jack will be proud of you."
The dog swelled with pride at pleasing his Master Edward - and his Master Jack.
Edward stood up and began to fuck his slave's face bucking his hips; then, abruptly, he stopped, pushing the dog back to the floor.
"Not yet, dog, not yet. Cum comes later. Give me your leash."
When the dog slave reached for the leash, his Master slapped him.
"Dogs don't have hands, you fuckin' Towser, dogs have paws and a mouth. Now give me that leash!"
he snarled.
The dog Towser bent over and picked up the leash with his mouth and sat up, offering it, whimpering, his face smarting. His Master took it, tousling his hair. The dog managed a grin.
The Master led the new dog around the room, guiding him with the leash, fast and slow, right and left, stopping and starting, so he would learn to move entirely by the movements of the leash with no verbal commands. The dog's knees were beginning to hurt, but he dared to nothing.
Satisfied for now, Master Edward led him out of the room into the next room. Jerry was waiting for them, animal clippers, soap and razor at hand. The dog remembered, kissed Jerry's boots. When he realized they were going to shave his body he rebelled; he cried out "No, no, please, no," and tried to get away; but the rebellion was quickly put down by the two brawny men who chained him face down on the floor. The slave's ass felt again Jerry's whip; after five lashes his Master said Jerry would whip him until he begged for the whipping to stop. The dog grit his teeth. But after five more lashes he barked, loud, clear, frantically, Jerry stopped. He ran the clippers over the lashed cheeks, and shaved off what the clippers missed, all the way into the crack and around the hole; he clipped the splayed legs, too. They turned over the helpless slave, ignoring the tear-stained face, and clipped off the rest of the leg hair, the chest hair and that which flourished in the armpits, and lastly the belly and crock hair. His cock looked even larger without the concealing thicket, and the skin of his now hairless sac was soft and pliable as they felt him up, a dog to be handled as they choose with no say in the matter. His cock was hard and throbbing still. They cut his head hair until it was about three inches long all over, still long enough to get a grip on. Making him sit up they placed a mirror before him so he could see himself, a naked dog slave, mostly hairless, dog collar around his neck, his red nipples exposed and hard, his cock upright, erect. He moaned when Jerry twisted one of his nipples, and he swayed toward his trainer. His Master laughed.
They put him down again on his back, explaining that his struggles had shown him untrustworthy and he felt ashamed that he had failed a test, and he blushed. They fastened leather bands around his ankles. To the D-rings in these was fastened a chain joining his ankles, and another chain ran from the middle of the ankle chain to his dog collar, so short he could not stand when they ordered him to do so; he was effectively kept on all fours permanently. And as his Master explained, when finally he would be able to sleep, he would not be able to stretch out his legs. The dog whimpered. His Master laughed again.
In the hall Jerry turned him over to his Master who led him to the Master's toilet. He was chained next to the stool. The man sat and evacuated his bowels, the dog holding his cock in his mouth and drinking his piss at the same time. The dog had never done this, but he wanted to please the big man, and he eagerly let the fluid hotly flow into his belly. At the same time his Master spoke. "I am a substitute for your Master Jack; he owns you, you belong to him, you will serve him in any way that he wants, you will drink his piss and eat his shit and obey him instantly. Whatever he wants , you will want." The Master spit on the face in his crotch, and lazily smeared the spit over the shiny face. He did it again. The dog pressed closer. "Do you love your Master Jack?" The dog nodded vigorously and gurgled affirmatively around the great cock in his mouth. He did! he had loved always loved Jack, and now he loved him even more the man who had put him into dog slavery! "let go of my cock." The dog withdrew.
"Now, you are going to undergo further training." he slid forward on the seat, his own hole exposed, fringed with hot shit that did not fall into the stool. "Clean me." the dog drew back, his eyes staring into his Master's; then with a sigh, he leaned forward and began to lick. "You Master Jack will be pleased with you." The dog licked harder, his cock hard.
"You'll eat my shit from my hole before you are graduated."
And Towser licked harder. God! his cock throbbed.
His Master turned him over to Carl who gave him his first lessons in heeling, sitting up, rolling over, fetching sticks, and other dog tricks dogs are frequently taught.
Mike gave him specialized lessons in cocksucking. Darryl! in armpit licking, ass eating, and tongue bathing. His own hard cock never wilted.
These leather-clad trainers were bare-headed. Only Jerry and Paul wore hoods padlocked around the neck. No one explained why they were hooded. It was none of the dog's business.
His Master fed him late at night - water, dog food seasoned with piss- and chained him to the floor at the foot of the Master's bed. Twice during the night he was ordered to drink his Master's piss which tasted of beer he had drunk just to create all that piss. The Master's bed was hard but comfortable; he was not allowed to stay in it. The dog had a wet dream, for which he was punished.
He spent a good part of the next day chained in a kennel with larger dildos up his ass; every day the size was increased until he could easily take the one the size of his Master Jack's cock, and that day his Master Edward fucked him until he came at his Master's command without anyone touching his cock. Master Edward now fucked him daily, several times, and gave him to other Masters to be fucked.
Some days passed. He lost track of time.
He was placed on his back, his legs backed against his chest, his ankles over his face, his neck-chain cold against his skin, clamps on his nipples which his Master pulled and twisted while he plunged his thick cock in and out of the eager asshole surrounding it. As the thick cream shot into the fiery channel, he shouted "Cum, dog, cum!" and for only the third time since he went into training the dog shot his load; it arched into the air, striking his Master's pelt-covered cheat, falling on his own face and cheat. The man smeared it over his slave's body, letting it dry among the sweat and dirt gathering there; the dog had not been cleaned except for the occasional tongue baths given him by other dogs. He smelled ripe.
The Master crouched over the dog's body, his hands gripping the dog's upraised ankles, his cock deeply embedded in the dog's asshole.
"Listen to me carefully, dog. You have been here several days now. This is your opportunity to leave before completing your training. If you truly do not want to be a dog for your Master Jack, say so now, and we will release you." The dog flexed his ass around the still-hard cock in his ass. "But if you leave, your Master has said he wants never to see you again. It is your choice. Speak. Speak in English."
The dog's mind was in a whirl, as if he could not take in what the Master was saying. Here was his chance to go free, to resume his human status, to do what he wanted and not to be a slave obedient to the whims and desires of a Master. And not to see Jack again. Master Jack whom he loved. To have Master Jack turn away from him as if they were strangers, to have Master Jack reject him, to know that Master Jack's cock was up someone else's ass or down someone else's throat, that Master Jack had another lover, another slave, another dog to make him happy, to serve him, to obey instantly.
Towser suddenly realized what he had pushed into the back of his mind, that he had been a cock-teasing shit who had treated his Master Jack unfairly, promising and not delivering. And he wanted, needed, to atone, to make it all up to Master Jack, to abase himself, to humble and humiliate himself, degrade himself, beg for forgiveness, so Master Jack would accept him, keep him, perhaps even love him, never leave him. Master Jack's cock in his ass, in no other ass but his own ass, He was Towser, was Master Jack's slave, dog, pet. He loved Master Jack who had sent him into training and opened his eyes. He wanted to be, a dog, a slave, a dog slave, Master Jack's dog slave.
"I want -" he stopped to clear his throat. "Master I want to be a dog."
Master Edward jerked his cock roughly out. "assume the position."
Swiftly the slave rolled over onto his hands and knees.
"Say it again."
"I want to be a dog, Master."
"What kind of dog, asshole?"
"I want to be a dog slave to serve my Master Jack, a cock sucking asslicking shiteating dog." He burst into tears of joy, at peace with himself, knowing admitting out loud that he was a dog slave, that Master Jack wanted him to be a dog slave, that Master Jack wanted him. I am a dog, I am a dog, I am a dog, welcoming his fate. The words sang in his blood.
"You're goddamn lucky he wants you. He's a real humpy Master."
'Yes, Master, yes, I know I'm lucky. Master, I've been bad, I've treated my Master bad, punish me, please punish the dog, please, let me see Master Jack, let him punish me, please," and he barked several times, kissing and slobbering over the man's boots. His Master removed the ankle-neck chain, took the dog and bathed him.
He was now bathed regularly.
Training continued. Sometimes he was part of a group of other dogs, sometimes he was alone with a trainer: sucking cock, eating ass, being fucked and sucked, practicing fucking in case his Master should want to be fuck (though this was a treat he was warned he should not expect), receiving enemas, fistfucking, eating shit, shaving his body. The training included erection techniques, so the dog could obtain an erection at the snap of his Master's finger even though he has just cum, so he could sustain an erection without cumming, no matter how much his balls were churning with and aching with the pent-up cream, until his Master gave permission to cum. Every day he ate Master Edward's shit, his face under the Master Edward's asshole, his mouth open to receive the hot brown turds as they fell from Master Edward's body, his throat swallowing, his tongue licking his lips. Every day he was his Master's toilet, drink piss and eating shit, and he was his Master's toilet paper, reaching up when the last turn had fallen to suck and lick clean the brown puckered hole. And he wished that it were his Master Jack's asshole. He wanted to be his Master Jack's toilet.
He longed to be free to serve his Master Jack.
Always he was kept on his hands and knees, obeying every snap of his Master's fingers.
he became the complete dog slave, concentrating his desire and love on his Master Jack who cared enough for him to make him his complete total possession.
The dog received regular shots of penicillin and gamma globulin, for his mouth and ass were in almost constant use. Edward whipped him frequently, noting that each time the dog got an erection; Towser like to be belted and sometimes would deliberately disobey in order to be taken to the punishment room, strung up from the chains hanging from the ceiling, and whipped. Each time this happened his cock would stand up hard and proud, and when his Master would shout "Cum" he would shoot, the stream of cream aching six feet into the air before falling to the floor, shoot without touching his prick. Released from the chains, he would kiss his Master's boots and the whip and would lick up his cum from the floor, and expression of complete bliss on his face, his buns and back and thighs and chest red streaked and painful.
Master Edward taught him techniques in tonguing a Master's body, in massaging, giving rub-downs, in masturbating a Master's cock. They spent long hours, Master Edward stretched out on his bed with the dog practicing his new knowledge on his Master's body, smoothing and gentling the skin, stroking and fisting the hard cock, discovering the various properties of various oils and lotions when applied to the chest, the back, the ass, the cock and balls of a Master.
Every day Master Edward added to the notes he was keeping for Master Jack.
Electric lights burned all day - the dog believed they could be turned off only in the Master's sleeping quarters - and no windows allowed a glimpses of the outside; he was fed at irregular intervals and allowed to sleep at irregular intervals; so he lost all sense of time and did not know if his captivity lasted one week or five. None of the trainers wore watches, and after the first day or two the dog ceased to think about it, being too occupied with pleasing his Master Edward, with earning the privilege of pleasing Master Jack.
Training continued and expanded until the program was completed, the program that Master Jack had contracted for. The animal was not told his time was up; he was just cleaned up and led into a room where Master Jack was waiting. Master Jack was wearing boots and Levi's and a leather jacket. When he saw his Master, the animal broke free of his stance heeling behind Master Edward and on his hands and knees scampered to Master Jack, barking excitedly, licking his Master's boots, his whole body quivering, his cock stiff, Suddenly he threw himself full-length spread-eagle on the floor before his Master and sobbing with joy pressed his face against Master's Jack left boot. Jack squatted and patted him on the back of the head. The dog looked up at him , his freshly shaved face covered with tears. His Master spit on his hand and wiped it over the face which filled with adoration. Master Jack spit on him again. The animal licked his fingers clean.
Masters Edward and Jack spoke together, Master Edward giving the notebook on the dog's training and behavior. The animal's eyes were on his flight bag which had been placed next to the door.
"O.K., Towser, let's go. You've graduated. Pick up that bag."
The dog reached out with his paw to pick it up and started to stand when Master Jack bent down and slapped him hard across the face. The dog fell back, looking up like a hurt puppy. Master Jack squatted, prepared; Master Edward had warned him the animal would try to take advantage, and he was setting right now in the beginning the dog's position in their household. The dog's face was between his Master's spread knees, his eyes going from his Master's hard face to the throbbing bulge in his Master's crotch.
"Listen, dog. Right now you've got a choice to make. Either you come with me as my dog, my pet, my slave, or you go without me. You go without me, you go free. You go with me, I own you, you come willingly, ready to obey me in everything, to be my dog, to serve me as you served Master Edward here, like a dog. You have fifteen seconds to decide. Reply in English."
The animal didn't hesitate.
"I choose you, Master Jack. I want to be your dog."
And Master Jack slapped him twice across the face hard. The animal's hard prick responded by slapping against his belly.
"Dogs don't talk! Dogs bark! Ain't you learned anything? who the fuck do you think you are? You goddamn animal, you're a dog slave, that's what you are!"
The animal blinked at the injustice; he had obeyed, talking in English as he was ordered to do. And then he surrendered completely to Master Jack. Anything Master Jack said was right, unfair or not. Master Jack was always right and it was not the dog's place to consider or to criticize. The dog came to all fours and barked quickly, kissing the hand that punished him, deservedly punished him, for his Master was always right, lowering his head to lick his Master's boots. His cockhead was pushing through his foreskin.
The Masters shook hands. Master Edward saying, "That's the way . You're off to a good start. Don't let him get away with anything."
"O.K.. Towser, pick up that case like a good dog and let's go."
The dog took the handle between his teeth and waited for his Master to open the door. Beyond the door could be freedom, but he knew he would be free only in the prison made by his Master and his own desires. He remembered the Donne quote: " To enter in these bonds is to be free." He believed it.
"Heel," said his Master and opened the door.
Heeling, naked but for the dog collar and the leash that was now attached him to his Master's left wrist, his cock steel-hard against his belly, the case in his mouth. Towser followed the Master he loved out the door and down the sidewalk, heedless of the people that might be there on Christopher Street to see a dog slave being led home.
Jack was a high powered dynamic young executive just starting his own business. he had - or thought he had - little time to spend in frivolity and in playing games, in courtship. What he wanted was a steady dependable lover, one who would be understanding and ready to fuck when he(Jack) wanted to fuck, ready to be left alone when Jack wanted to be alone, ready to put Jack's business and pleasure first in all things at all the times. What Jack had, though, was Dennis; irresponsible cock-teasing Dennis who was habitually late, who always seemed to want to screw when Jack had to concentrate on business, who wanted to be alone when Jack found time to screw, who broke dates without warning. Dennis led the besotted Jack a merry dance for months.
Jack had allowed Dennis to set the pattern on their relationship early on, always forgiving, believing Dennis' promises to do better, and found that he could not change the pattern. That it could be changed he was sure, but he himself had not the time, or so he thought, to devote to making the change. Yet, it was either the pattern or say good-bye to Dennis, and besotted as he was, and as Dennis knew he was, he could not kick the younger man out of his life. Dennis had him utterly enslaved, ready to accept any crumbs from Dennis's table.
The idea first came from some talk Jack heard in O' Toole's Bar on one of his few free evenings out: Dennis had broken a date and Jack had savagely gone out drinking alone. In O' Toole's he overheard a few phrases which dropped the penny in his brain and gave him a new perspective. He asked a few questions of those he overheard. They answered, cautiously. Jack acted on this information. A few weeks passed. He made discreet inquiries and answered more questions. Finally he had the information and phone number he sought. He was reluctant to use it; but one weekend shortly thereafter, Jack came to his last straw.
At the start of the summer, Dennis and Jack had arranged to take a week's holiday together, leaving on a particular Monday morning. Apparently merely to demonstrate his power over Jack, on the preceding Saturday Dennis announced that he did not want to go to Fire Island after all, that Jack should cancel the house that he had rented, that they should go to San Francisco instead. Jack was lying next to Dennis when he said all this, his mouth still holding Dennis's cock, his own hard cock still unsatisfied. He objected, of course, but Dennis cajoled him as Dennis always did. But though Jack said yes to Dennis, this time inwardly refused; and while Dennis took his usual long shower, Jack made the phone call to the number he had got after those weeks of asking and waiting, a number that would answer 24 hours. His free had fisted his throbbing achingly hard cock while he talked.
A deep rumbling voice answered: "Allen's Pet Shop and Obedience School. Bruno speaking."
Jack hesitated; then, taking a deep breath, casting the die, he said, "This Jack Wilson. You were recommended to be by Frank Walton."
"Frank Walton. Oh, yes. He was satisfied with our service?"
"Yes. Yes, very satisfied. I have a pet that needs obedience training, a pet like Frank's."
"Oh. Would you describe the animal you want trained, Sir?"
"A white male human, 25, 175 pounds, 6', brown hair."
"Ah, one of those. We can certainly accommodate you. We have the finest trainer in New York City, actually in the entire eastern seaboard, Sir. But you do realize that some animals cannot be trained? Most can, but a very few cannot. If your animal refuses the training, we will release him and refund your money. But in our years of training we have had no failures."
"If he refuses training I do not want him at all."
"At the proper point in his training he will be told that you will reject him without this training. When will you bring him in, Sir?"
"Monday"
"Monday. Fine, Sir. We have a good man who will be available beginning on Monday, an Englishman who used to train the members of the Queen's Horse Guards."
Jack was afraid that Dennis might finish his shower before the conversation was finished and he mentioned this to Bruno who quickly asked him the remaining questions necessary, finishing with:
"Do you want your pet Dennis Wilson trained under that name or would you prefer a special name? Like Rex, or Fido?"
Jack thought a moment: he had not considered this earlier.
"Towser. My first dog was named Towser. Train him as Towser."
"Bring Towser to 300 Christopher Street, near Hudson Street, at 9:00, Monday morning, sharp. The door is painted black. Ring two short rings, open door, put Towser inside, close the door behind him."
He laughed. "Don't enter with Towser or you might find yourself in training too, Sir."
He gave instructions about payment, asked more questions.
Jack was drinking a beer when Dennis returned, shower damp and gleaming. Jack's hard dick was dripping pre-cum as he lay on the bed, fisting it with one hand, the beer in the other, in his mind's eye a vision of Dennis on all fours, a dog collar around his neck, his mouth open to suck Jack's big prick. Jack was smiling.
"Penny for your thoughts," said Dennis
"I called the airlines," lied Jack. "Our business reservations are for Monday noontime. I have some business on Hudson Street at 9:00 we can do on the way to JFK, some people I want you to meet."
"Oh, baby, thank you, you're so good to me, I love you so much." Dennis smiled s he snuggled close to Jack. "I'm gonna be so good to you ..."
That weekend Jack let Dennis have his way in everything, hopeful it would be the last time Dennis would have his way in anything.
At 9:00 sharp Monday morning the cab waited ("This won't take long" said Jack) before Christopher Street address while Jack rang the bell twice and pulled open the door. The hall was dimly lit.
"You go in first," said Jack , holding the door.
"O.K. This place looks empty. Sure it's the right place?"
Holding his flight bag with the money hidden from him in it, Dennis entered.
"It's the right place." said Jack, shutting the door behind him, leaving Dennis inside. Jack returned to the cab which took him to the depot where to caught the train to Fire Island. he'd enjoy himself in the meatrack there while Dennis would start his training.
Inside, Dennis found himself alone in a dim hall. He tried the door which Jack had shut on him, but it was locked now. In a panic he pounded on it shouting Jack's name, but only silence was heard from the other side. He stopped and faced the hall when he heard a strange metallic voice. There was no one to be seen and he pressed against the door as the disembodied voice repeated its command:
"Descend the stairs, dog."
He tried the door again, shouting, stopping and whirling to face the hall only when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
The hall went forward about ten feet and turned abruptly to descend a flight. Dennis saw on the wall a shadow of a human figure mounting toward his level, and then the figure reached Dennis' level and turned to face him. Dennis gasped: the big man was wearing only black leather: boots, pants with a bulging cod piece, narrow vest, a hood that had openings for the ears, eyes, nostrils, and mouth. It was padlocked shut on the right side of the neck. The huge arms and chest were bare, the powerful muscles gleaming in the light. The figure stepped towards Dennis and was swiftly joined by a second, even taller and more muscular, dressed like the first.
"You goddamn dog," snarled the first, "whadda you mean by not obeyin' orders? Makin' us come all the way up the fuckin' stairs to drag you down so's you can begin your fuckin' trainin', you goddamn son of a bitch. We got better things t' do, dog-face!"
Frantically, Dennis tried the door again before the two figures were on him, seizing him by the arms and forcibly carrying him and dragging him down the stairs into an empty room painted entirely in black. One of the giants locked the stair door behind them; ahead was another door, shut. They dropped Dennis on the floor roughly. The second man took a supple leather dog quirt from where it dangled against his right side.
The disembodied voice spoke.
"You, dog stay there on the floor where you belong. Do nothing until you are ordered to, and then obey instantly. Your life here will be easier if you realize that the quicker you obey an order, the more pleasant will pass your time. And do not talk back: You will speak only when you are told to speak. Paul, see to the bag.
The first man replied: he had taken Dennis' flight bag and had opened it. "Three books, a Trader Dick, pens, checkbook, the envelope that says 'Allen's Pet Shop for Towser.' "
"What's that?" shouted Dennis. "I never -Ouch!" he yelped as the dog quirt lashed across his levi'd ass.
"Shut up!" roared the second leatherman and struck Dennis again. He screamed but said no more, going absolutely rigid, staring at a framed motto hanging on the wall, a motto he just saw. In large letters it read:
"An East Indian mother's poem to her child:
"I would that life should hurt you, and you be unafraid of pain.' "
Dennis's stomach lurched as he read it from his position on the floor.
The first leatherman went on, ignoring the discipline two feet away. "Inside the envelope is the total sum of money required: the training is paid in full."
The voice said: "We shall send a receipt to this dog's Master. Paul bring the money and the envelope here. Jerry can handle this animal alone. Now dog listen to me and listen carefully - you laying there on the floor with an aching ass, I am talking to you. Answer me!"
"Yeah," muttered Dennis sullenly.
Instantly the whip descended on the helpless ass.
" 'Yes Sir' is what you reply. 'Yes Sir.' You call everybody here 'Sir' unless instructed otherwise. Understand, dog?"
The whip struck again.
"Yes Sir," shouted Dennis. "Please don't hit me again."
The whip slashed again.
"You say nothing except what you are asked. Understand?"
"Yes Sir, yes Sir!"
The voice spoke. "First, we have to see what we have to work with. You will stand up and strip off all your clothes; if you are not totally naked in sixty seconds from the time I say go you will whipped until naked. "Go."
It took a few seconds for Dennis to realize what the voice meant, and then he scrambled to avoid the whip. His Levi's tangled with his sneakers, and he lost time in getting them off, so he was still wearing his socks, shirt, and jockey shorts when the voice said, "Time." Jerry instantly lashed at the bare legs, leaving bright red streaks where the leather contacted with naked flesh. Crying for Jerry to stop, Dennis struggled with his clothes until he stood naked, his clothes in disarray on the floor around him. Jerry lowered the whip.
The voice said: "Empty your pockets. Fold your clothes and put them in the bag."
Dennis followed orders. His keys and small change clattered on the hard floor, partially muffled by a few dollar bills and cards. He knelt, swiftly packing the bag, moving even faster when Jerry caressed his back with the braided leather quirt.
Jerry took the bag and left the room, leaving the new dog alone with the voice.
When you are dismissed from this school, dog, all your things will be returned to you. You will have no use for them until then. You will be naked while you are here: dogs have no use for clothes, and you are a dog. All your wants will be supplied, providing you earn and deserve them. Now stand and stretch."
The new dog obeyed the command of the voice: he stretched toward the ceiling, standing on his toes, his muscles straining. The voice spoke; he twisted left to right, bending forward and back; he presented himself to the four walls and the hidden camera. Those watching in the control room saw a man of 25 with a petulant face crowned by long brown hair, slender but well developed, pecs covered with fine curly hair that stopped abruptly where the pecs met the firm belly. A fine column of hair trailed down the valley between his pecs, circled the indented belly button, and continued on to meet the wiry growth of curly hair that grew thickly around the base of the swinging cock and covered the egg-sized balls nestled in their dangling pouch. His legs were covered with the same fine hair that grew on the chest, hiding the red nipples there. His eyes were brown fringed with thick lashes.
Always narcissistic, Dennis strangely enjoyed showing himself off for the concealed tormentors, knowing that his body was well formed, a turn-on, even though he was bewildered and frightened by the position in which he found himself. What was Jack doing to him? Why was he here, posturing lewdly for invisible eyes, parts of his body red with lash marks? His cock, thick uncut ivory inches, thickening with gathering blood, bounced from thigh to thigh as Dennis posed and posed again in response to the voice's commands. At last, after what seemed to be hours, the voice ordered and obediently Dennis spread his legs and bent over, his hands parting his cheeks so his tiny brown pucker was exposed. Still holding his buns apart, he fell to his knees and leaned forward until his forehead and shoulders rested on the floor. The voice fell silent. He thought: what the fuck am I doing here? Do I like this? Why is my dick getting hard? In this position of abject subservience he remained until the door open and bootsteps thudded across the floor to stop in front of him. He sensed the newcomer's closeness from the smell of the leather, and abruptly a hand reached out and grabbed his hair and pulled up his head. Dennis moved his hands to keep his balance and was slapped across the face for not keeping his asshole exposed; his hands went back into place as his trainer spoke. A wide leather collar was held in front of his eyes - a dog collar! - was held to his lips while he obediently kissed it, was roughly fastened around his neck and a metal leash was attached to - a dog leash! What the fuck was happening?
What had Jack gotten him into? Why was his dick throbbing? He didn't understand he was now a slave.
"Come, dog." Jerry started toward the door, jerking on the leash.
Dennis started to his feet but was swiftly slapped down. On his hands and knees he crawled after the leather clad trainer.
They went down a hall, passing several closed doors. Near the end of the hall a door stood open and Dennis glanced in; what he saw made him halt his crawling progress for a few seconds until Jerry jerked the leash and made the slave gasp for breath and resume his slow march, the image impressed on his mind of two fine women, each in leather bra and high-heeled boots, sitting with legs widespread, and between those legs kneeling and crouching two slaves, each eating the exposed pussy. One slave was female, the other male - and the male, wearing chains, was being whipped by his Mistress with a supple riding crop. A leather Master and another male slave were in the back of the room, but Dennis did not see them distinctly.
Jerry opened the next door and guided the animal in. His brain still reeling from the sight through the open door, Dennis did not at first notice that Jerry had dropped his leash and left the room, leaving Dennis alone with another man, a bruiser whose bulging muscles threatened to burst out of the leather covering him. Like Jerry, he was wearing boots and leather pants with a cod-piece, and a leather vest that did little to cover the pectoral slabs and thick pelt of chest and belly hair. he was not wearing a hood, unlike Jerry. "Come here, animal," growled the man, and Dennis crawled closer, his leash trailing.
"Head down and legs apart."
His head on the floor, Dennis could only see the boots as the man walked around him, inspecting the animal before him. The man knelt and ran his hands over the crouching figure, fingering the nipples and pulling firmly on the balls until Dennis whimpered. He cupped the trust up end and pressed against the tinny pucker, incongruously quoting Yeats: "Consider beauty a sufficient end." The animal, a grad student in comparative lit, was startled when he recognized the phrase and raised his head; this disobedience was rewarded by a sharp slap on the upraised end; the Master pushed his head sharply against the floor, flattening his nose.
The man leaned against the edge of the table, legs spread, the dog between them. "Now you listen to me an you listen good; if I have to repeat any of this, you'll wish I hadn't. Now look at me, dog. Just raise your fuckin' head; keep your paws on the floor." His right hand cupped his groin. "You are the dog Towser." he spoke with an English accent, his cold bass voice sending shivers up the spine of the crouching Towser. Their eyes locked and never wavered until the Master ordered the animal to look elsewhere. "Remember that: you are the dog Towser. Towser is your name. Your Master Jack has brought you here for discipline and training. If you reject the training, he will reject you. But you are not yet prepared to make that choice. You may be wondering why he brought you here; perhaps he will tell you one day. This is an obedience school; we train four-legged animals; in this place we train two-legged animals, like yourself. You are going to be trained to be a dog slave for your Master Jack.
You will learn obedience, Towser, learn to obey instantly the moment you receive a command; you will learn to serve and to service. You will learn you are a worthless piece of dog shit, Towser, but we are going to make you into a dog slave. 'To enter in these bonds is to be free,' " he quoted Donne, and the slave's eyes widened as he recognized the poet. "If you disobey you will be punished, instantly, ruthlessly, painfully. Do you understand? Answer me!"
"Yes , Sir," whispered the new dog slave, "but I -"
The big hand concealed by the leather gauntlet swung and struck the slave's cheek, the noise cracking, and the Master's voice thundered: "You are a dog. A dog!. And dogs to not talk. Dogs bark! You will reply by barking, barking like a fuckin' dog because that is what you are now, a goddamn fuckin' dog. One bark for yes, two bark for no, though you will not have occasion to bark no. Now, do you understand? Answer me!"
The slave barked once. Jack, help me, he cried silently.
"You call that a bark of a dog? You sound like a stranded goldfish. Again!"
The slave barked louder'
"Now you sound like a Pekinese. You want to sound like that, like a puling bad-tempered lap dog? or like a real man dog? Speak!"
The dog barked a third time. Oh, God, listen to me!
"Well, that 's better. I don't want to waste my time on a lag dog: I get very angry with lap dogs; do you want to make me angry, Towser, dog?"
Oh, God, no, he didn't want to make this man angry. This time the bark was deep and firm and solid.
"Better. I shall enjoy training you, disciplining you, Towser. Remember: you are a dog here, dogs obey instantly or they are punished, dogs remain on all fours, dogs bark. Understand?"
A deep resonant bark. Oh, God, Jack! His dick throbbed.
"Now, tell me in words what you are."
Hesitantly, he spoke. "I am a - dog, Sir."
"Again. You sound uncertain."
More quickly: "I am a dog, Sir." But I'm not, I'm not, thought Dennis, I'm not! Jesus! Jack! His cock quivered.
"Shout!"
"I am a dog, Sir!" I'm not! Why am I saying this? I'm not!
"That's right," snarled the Master. Don't you forget it, or those lash marks will be joined by others. Put your head back down."
The self-proclaimed dog dropped back into a crouching position.
"I am your Master in this school. Kiss my boots."
The dog pressed his lips against the boots again, and yet again, before licking the dust from the boots at command, listening to his Master tell him every time he saw his Master he would at once show his dogdom, his submission, by kissing his boot without being told to, that when he met his Master Jack after graduation from obedience school (graduation from obedience school! Oh, God, what am I doing, licking dust from boots! Oh, Jesus, Jack!) the first thing he would do would be to kiss Jack's boots: and the new dog's tongue curled around the instep and heel.
When the Master was satisfied his boots were clean, by the hair he pulled up the dog on his haunches. Between the dog's thighs protruded upright the hard cock, the foreskin pulling back to allow the dark red head to show. Again they locked eyes.
The Master saw and noted the dog's erection. He ignored it, knowing it was a good sign.
" I am your Master and Chief Trainer while you are here; I am Master Edward. There will be others who will carry out specific aspects of your training, and you will obey them. But I and only I am your Master. When you are not with other trainers you will be with me: you will eat when I feed you, piss and shit when I let you, sleep when I permit you, cum when I allow you, serve any way I desire, service me with your mouth and asshole and body in all ways. Your body belongs to Master Jack, and by his permission, to me. Look at my crotch," and obediently the dog's eyes dropped to the bulging leather between the solid thighs. "You're a cocksuckin' dog slave, and now you're going to prove it. Get your face in my crotch, Towser, and make that leather shine."
Before the voice stopped, the dog's face was pressed against the genitals hidden by the supple leather, and his tongue was licking the curves and hollows, making the black leather shiny and wet, wishing the leather was not hiding the potent throbbing flesh. "Good dog." He felt a flush of pride. But I'm not a dog, why is Jack doing this, why do I like doing this, why is my cock hard? His tongue and mouth kissed their way down and up the impossibly thick tube that extended down the left leg solid and hard.
At command, the dog's teeth pulled away the leather from the snaps so the codpiece fell away from the body, exposing the biggest set of genitals he had ever seen. The balls were the size of tennis balls, slowly rising towards the base of the cock in their sac covered thickly with black hair, the hair that thinned out a little as it joined that on the belly. But the cock took the dog's breath away. Jack's cock was ten inches hard, but this was longer than that, and thicker, God!
Expertly the Master guided the slobbering mouth along the tube shooting at least a foot straight out from the hair forest, burying the face in the hair, forcing the nose to sniff deeply the odors that proclaimed the Master to be a man, pushing the face down deep beneath the balls to smell the funky sweat and shit that clung there, making the mouth lick and suck and take in the huge balls, before bringing the mouth back to the head of the cock and inserting the head into the gasping orifice.
Slowly he forced the tube deeper and deeper into the gasping hot cavity, stopping when the gag reflex began, waiting till that was finished before forcing deeper into the waiting throat. Dennis had never learned to deep throat Jack, but he applied his limited expertise to the trunk invading his helpless body - he did not want to make his Master angry by not taking the cock all the way - until at last he had the whole thing buried in his throat, his lips and nose hidden in the cock hair at the base.
"Good dog," crooned the Master, stroking the sucking head, "not many can take my cock all the way down the first time: your Master Jack will be proud of you."
The dog swelled with pride at pleasing his Master Edward - and his Master Jack.
Edward stood up and began to fuck his slave's face bucking his hips; then, abruptly, he stopped, pushing the dog back to the floor.
"Not yet, dog, not yet. Cum comes later. Give me your leash."
When the dog slave reached for the leash, his Master slapped him.
"Dogs don't have hands, you fuckin' Towser, dogs have paws and a mouth. Now give me that leash!"
he snarled.
The dog Towser bent over and picked up the leash with his mouth and sat up, offering it, whimpering, his face smarting. His Master took it, tousling his hair. The dog managed a grin.
The Master led the new dog around the room, guiding him with the leash, fast and slow, right and left, stopping and starting, so he would learn to move entirely by the movements of the leash with no verbal commands. The dog's knees were beginning to hurt, but he dared to nothing.
Satisfied for now, Master Edward led him out of the room into the next room. Jerry was waiting for them, animal clippers, soap and razor at hand. The dog remembered, kissed Jerry's boots. When he realized they were going to shave his body he rebelled; he cried out "No, no, please, no," and tried to get away; but the rebellion was quickly put down by the two brawny men who chained him face down on the floor. The slave's ass felt again Jerry's whip; after five lashes his Master said Jerry would whip him until he begged for the whipping to stop. The dog grit his teeth. But after five more lashes he barked, loud, clear, frantically, Jerry stopped. He ran the clippers over the lashed cheeks, and shaved off what the clippers missed, all the way into the crack and around the hole; he clipped the splayed legs, too. They turned over the helpless slave, ignoring the tear-stained face, and clipped off the rest of the leg hair, the chest hair and that which flourished in the armpits, and lastly the belly and crock hair. His cock looked even larger without the concealing thicket, and the skin of his now hairless sac was soft and pliable as they felt him up, a dog to be handled as they choose with no say in the matter. His cock was hard and throbbing still. They cut his head hair until it was about three inches long all over, still long enough to get a grip on. Making him sit up they placed a mirror before him so he could see himself, a naked dog slave, mostly hairless, dog collar around his neck, his red nipples exposed and hard, his cock upright, erect. He moaned when Jerry twisted one of his nipples, and he swayed toward his trainer. His Master laughed.
They put him down again on his back, explaining that his struggles had shown him untrustworthy and he felt ashamed that he had failed a test, and he blushed. They fastened leather bands around his ankles. To the D-rings in these was fastened a chain joining his ankles, and another chain ran from the middle of the ankle chain to his dog collar, so short he could not stand when they ordered him to do so; he was effectively kept on all fours permanently. And as his Master explained, when finally he would be able to sleep, he would not be able to stretch out his legs. The dog whimpered. His Master laughed again.
In the hall Jerry turned him over to his Master who led him to the Master's toilet. He was chained next to the stool. The man sat and evacuated his bowels, the dog holding his cock in his mouth and drinking his piss at the same time. The dog had never done this, but he wanted to please the big man, and he eagerly let the fluid hotly flow into his belly. At the same time his Master spoke. "I am a substitute for your Master Jack; he owns you, you belong to him, you will serve him in any way that he wants, you will drink his piss and eat his shit and obey him instantly. Whatever he wants , you will want." The Master spit on the face in his crotch, and lazily smeared the spit over the shiny face. He did it again. The dog pressed closer. "Do you love your Master Jack?" The dog nodded vigorously and gurgled affirmatively around the great cock in his mouth. He did! he had loved always loved Jack, and now he loved him even more the man who had put him into dog slavery! "let go of my cock." The dog withdrew.
"Now, you are going to undergo further training." he slid forward on the seat, his own hole exposed, fringed with hot shit that did not fall into the stool. "Clean me." the dog drew back, his eyes staring into his Master's; then with a sigh, he leaned forward and began to lick. "You Master Jack will be pleased with you." The dog licked harder, his cock hard.
"You'll eat my shit from my hole before you are graduated."
And Towser licked harder. God! his cock throbbed.
His Master turned him over to Carl who gave him his first lessons in heeling, sitting up, rolling over, fetching sticks, and other dog tricks dogs are frequently taught.
Mike gave him specialized lessons in cocksucking. Darryl! in armpit licking, ass eating, and tongue bathing. His own hard cock never wilted.
These leather-clad trainers were bare-headed. Only Jerry and Paul wore hoods padlocked around the neck. No one explained why they were hooded. It was none of the dog's business.
His Master fed him late at night - water, dog food seasoned with piss- and chained him to the floor at the foot of the Master's bed. Twice during the night he was ordered to drink his Master's piss which tasted of beer he had drunk just to create all that piss. The Master's bed was hard but comfortable; he was not allowed to stay in it. The dog had a wet dream, for which he was punished.
He spent a good part of the next day chained in a kennel with larger dildos up his ass; every day the size was increased until he could easily take the one the size of his Master Jack's cock, and that day his Master Edward fucked him until he came at his Master's command without anyone touching his cock. Master Edward now fucked him daily, several times, and gave him to other Masters to be fucked.
Some days passed. He lost track of time.
He was placed on his back, his legs backed against his chest, his ankles over his face, his neck-chain cold against his skin, clamps on his nipples which his Master pulled and twisted while he plunged his thick cock in and out of the eager asshole surrounding it. As the thick cream shot into the fiery channel, he shouted "Cum, dog, cum!" and for only the third time since he went into training the dog shot his load; it arched into the air, striking his Master's pelt-covered cheat, falling on his own face and cheat. The man smeared it over his slave's body, letting it dry among the sweat and dirt gathering there; the dog had not been cleaned except for the occasional tongue baths given him by other dogs. He smelled ripe.
The Master crouched over the dog's body, his hands gripping the dog's upraised ankles, his cock deeply embedded in the dog's asshole.
"Listen to me carefully, dog. You have been here several days now. This is your opportunity to leave before completing your training. If you truly do not want to be a dog for your Master Jack, say so now, and we will release you." The dog flexed his ass around the still-hard cock in his ass. "But if you leave, your Master has said he wants never to see you again. It is your choice. Speak. Speak in English."
The dog's mind was in a whirl, as if he could not take in what the Master was saying. Here was his chance to go free, to resume his human status, to do what he wanted and not to be a slave obedient to the whims and desires of a Master. And not to see Jack again. Master Jack whom he loved. To have Master Jack turn away from him as if they were strangers, to have Master Jack reject him, to know that Master Jack's cock was up someone else's ass or down someone else's throat, that Master Jack had another lover, another slave, another dog to make him happy, to serve him, to obey instantly.
Towser suddenly realized what he had pushed into the back of his mind, that he had been a cock-teasing shit who had treated his Master Jack unfairly, promising and not delivering. And he wanted, needed, to atone, to make it all up to Master Jack, to abase himself, to humble and humiliate himself, degrade himself, beg for forgiveness, so Master Jack would accept him, keep him, perhaps even love him, never leave him. Master Jack's cock in his ass, in no other ass but his own ass, He was Towser, was Master Jack's slave, dog, pet. He loved Master Jack who had sent him into training and opened his eyes. He wanted to be, a dog, a slave, a dog slave, Master Jack's dog slave.
"I want -" he stopped to clear his throat. "Master I want to be a dog."
Master Edward jerked his cock roughly out. "assume the position."
Swiftly the slave rolled over onto his hands and knees.
"Say it again."
"I want to be a dog, Master."
"What kind of dog, asshole?"
"I want to be a dog slave to serve my Master Jack, a cock sucking asslicking shiteating dog." He burst into tears of joy, at peace with himself, knowing admitting out loud that he was a dog slave, that Master Jack wanted him to be a dog slave, that Master Jack wanted him. I am a dog, I am a dog, I am a dog, welcoming his fate. The words sang in his blood.
"You're goddamn lucky he wants you. He's a real humpy Master."
'Yes, Master, yes, I know I'm lucky. Master, I've been bad, I've treated my Master bad, punish me, please punish the dog, please, let me see Master Jack, let him punish me, please," and he barked several times, kissing and slobbering over the man's boots. His Master removed the ankle-neck chain, took the dog and bathed him.
He was now bathed regularly.
Training continued. Sometimes he was part of a group of other dogs, sometimes he was alone with a trainer: sucking cock, eating ass, being fucked and sucked, practicing fucking in case his Master should want to be fuck (though this was a treat he was warned he should not expect), receiving enemas, fistfucking, eating shit, shaving his body. The training included erection techniques, so the dog could obtain an erection at the snap of his Master's finger even though he has just cum, so he could sustain an erection without cumming, no matter how much his balls were churning with and aching with the pent-up cream, until his Master gave permission to cum. Every day he ate Master Edward's shit, his face under the Master Edward's asshole, his mouth open to receive the hot brown turds as they fell from Master Edward's body, his throat swallowing, his tongue licking his lips. Every day he was his Master's toilet, drink piss and eating shit, and he was his Master's toilet paper, reaching up when the last turn had fallen to suck and lick clean the brown puckered hole. And he wished that it were his Master Jack's asshole. He wanted to be his Master Jack's toilet.
He longed to be free to serve his Master Jack.
Always he was kept on his hands and knees, obeying every snap of his Master's fingers.
he became the complete dog slave, concentrating his desire and love on his Master Jack who cared enough for him to make him his complete total possession.
The dog received regular shots of penicillin and gamma globulin, for his mouth and ass were in almost constant use. Edward whipped him frequently, noting that each time the dog got an erection; Towser like to be belted and sometimes would deliberately disobey in order to be taken to the punishment room, strung up from the chains hanging from the ceiling, and whipped. Each time this happened his cock would stand up hard and proud, and when his Master would shout "Cum" he would shoot, the stream of cream aching six feet into the air before falling to the floor, shoot without touching his prick. Released from the chains, he would kiss his Master's boots and the whip and would lick up his cum from the floor, and expression of complete bliss on his face, his buns and back and thighs and chest red streaked and painful.
Master Edward taught him techniques in tonguing a Master's body, in massaging, giving rub-downs, in masturbating a Master's cock. They spent long hours, Master Edward stretched out on his bed with the dog practicing his new knowledge on his Master's body, smoothing and gentling the skin, stroking and fisting the hard cock, discovering the various properties of various oils and lotions when applied to the chest, the back, the ass, the cock and balls of a Master.
Every day Master Edward added to the notes he was keeping for Master Jack.
Electric lights burned all day - the dog believed they could be turned off only in the Master's sleeping quarters - and no windows allowed a glimpses of the outside; he was fed at irregular intervals and allowed to sleep at irregular intervals; so he lost all sense of time and did not know if his captivity lasted one week or five. None of the trainers wore watches, and after the first day or two the dog ceased to think about it, being too occupied with pleasing his Master Edward, with earning the privilege of pleasing Master Jack.
Training continued and expanded until the program was completed, the program that Master Jack had contracted for. The animal was not told his time was up; he was just cleaned up and led into a room where Master Jack was waiting. Master Jack was wearing boots and Levi's and a leather jacket. When he saw his Master, the animal broke free of his stance heeling behind Master Edward and on his hands and knees scampered to Master Jack, barking excitedly, licking his Master's boots, his whole body quivering, his cock stiff, Suddenly he threw himself full-length spread-eagle on the floor before his Master and sobbing with joy pressed his face against Master's Jack left boot. Jack squatted and patted him on the back of the head. The dog looked up at him , his freshly shaved face covered with tears. His Master spit on his hand and wiped it over the face which filled with adoration. Master Jack spit on him again. The animal licked his fingers clean.
Masters Edward and Jack spoke together, Master Edward giving the notebook on the dog's training and behavior. The animal's eyes were on his flight bag which had been placed next to the door.
"O.K., Towser, let's go. You've graduated. Pick up that bag."
The dog reached out with his paw to pick it up and started to stand when Master Jack bent down and slapped him hard across the face. The dog fell back, looking up like a hurt puppy. Master Jack squatted, prepared; Master Edward had warned him the animal would try to take advantage, and he was setting right now in the beginning the dog's position in their household. The dog's face was between his Master's spread knees, his eyes going from his Master's hard face to the throbbing bulge in his Master's crotch.
"Listen, dog. Right now you've got a choice to make. Either you come with me as my dog, my pet, my slave, or you go without me. You go without me, you go free. You go with me, I own you, you come willingly, ready to obey me in everything, to be my dog, to serve me as you served Master Edward here, like a dog. You have fifteen seconds to decide. Reply in English."
The animal didn't hesitate.
"I choose you, Master Jack. I want to be your dog."
And Master Jack slapped him twice across the face hard. The animal's hard prick responded by slapping against his belly.
"Dogs don't talk! Dogs bark! Ain't you learned anything? who the fuck do you think you are? You goddamn animal, you're a dog slave, that's what you are!"
The animal blinked at the injustice; he had obeyed, talking in English as he was ordered to do. And then he surrendered completely to Master Jack. Anything Master Jack said was right, unfair or not. Master Jack was always right and it was not the dog's place to consider or to criticize. The dog came to all fours and barked quickly, kissing the hand that punished him, deservedly punished him, for his Master was always right, lowering his head to lick his Master's boots. His cockhead was pushing through his foreskin.
The Masters shook hands. Master Edward saying, "That's the way . You're off to a good start. Don't let him get away with anything."
"O.K.. Towser, pick up that case like a good dog and let's go."
The dog took the handle between his teeth and waited for his Master to open the door. Beyond the door could be freedom, but he knew he would be free only in the prison made by his Master and his own desires. He remembered the Donne quote: " To enter in these bonds is to be free." He believed it.
"Heel," said his Master and opened the door.
Heeling, naked but for the dog collar and the leash that was now attached him to his Master's left wrist, his cock steel-hard against his belly, the case in his mouth. Towser followed the Master he loved out the door and down the sidewalk, heedless of the people that might be there on Christopher Street to see a dog slave being led home.