Three ~ Amber
Pup Whisperer lived in a condo that overlooked the Colchester River. He was a law clerk with some prestigious firm that handled affairs for the upper crust of our town’s society. He drove a black BMW coupe and was buying a cabin on the shores of Rend Lake where he was going to launch his new bass boat. For a guy who insisted on using such an asinine cover name, he sure loved to talk about himself and his toys. He was okay, though, for an older, kind of paunchy white guy even if his paycheck did not match his job description.
I may have dropped out of high school and all that, but even I knew that law clerks didn’t make that kind of bank. His boasting went on through dinner, which he ordered in from some fancy place called Mayberry Park. The food was really good, if far too fussy for me. He fed me well before playtime because he liked a pup with a full belly. Tonight, we’d had vegan smoky tahini jackfruit sandwiches, which he then apologized over because he forgot people shouldn’t make their dogs and cats be vegans. He took the dog ownership part really seriously. When dinner hour passed, he paid, always in cash, and then we got into our pup headspace.
It didn’t bother me to be treated like an animal. I dug being in a submissive role. Being told to fetch, sit, stay, roll over made me feel loved and safe. Maybe it was like that Dog Whisperer guy said, there has to be an alpha of the pack. That wasn’t me. My head was too bouncy to take charge of much in life other than the basics. It was why I’d dropped out of school when I was fourteen. I couldn’t sit still, the teachers hated me, and my parents were too poor to afford any kind of counseling or medication for my skittish brain.
Easing into my puppy gear always slowed the jittery thoughts. I found the pup headspace freeing, liberating in a lot of ways. Wiggling into my white leather pants, harness, knee pads, and mask cleared away the chaos inside my skull. My client, the master or alpha depending on how they wish to be addressed, then placed his chosen collar around my neck. For the next hour, I’m his to play with, feed, pet, cuddle, or fuck. I was well aware of how everyone at Gems thought of me, like I was some virginal sweet boy. If only they knew where I’d been and what I’d done before signing up with Gems two years ago…
These sessions were always the same, no variance. Food, collar, fetch, cuddle, stroking, him jerking off on me as I lay on my back to show him my belly. He never touched me below the belt. Most of my clients weren’t really good at being a true Dom; they played at it, kind of like Pup Whisperer did. It was okay though, because while I yearned for that firm hand, I really only wanted one man to be my true master. And he was as far out of my reach as fucking Mars. So, I played with my clients, jerked off at home a lot, and tried to find a way to not love Diamond so damned much.
My thoughts leaped around while I was lying on Tommy’s plush carpeting, my face sweaty inside my white leather mask, my dick hard from having him rubbing my belly but not touching my cock. Did he think it was a real dog dick? Who knew? Whatever. He paid five hundred bucks an hour to stroke one off on me, which was much better than that one guy a few years ago who’d assumed because I was into pup play, I was into fisting. Uhm, no, that was not my kink. He’d not taken kindly to my saying no and had used those fists on me. Security had rolled in when I began shouting for help, as had Diamond. D had gotten a few good shots in before the security detail had cleared my suite. I did not miss those days at all. Now, I picked who, what, where, when, and how I lived and loved.
“Ah, ah, ah,” He cried out, pulling me back from my memories of Diamond being the man yet again. Warm spunk dotted my bare belly and the straps of my harness. I wiggled and whined like a happy dog, acting out the scene as my client preferred. “What a good boy,” he gasped, letting go of his dick to rub his cum into my skin.
He got to his feet, zipped his pants, and walked off. I was to lay here on the floor until he returned with a treat, which was usually a Zig Zag bar that he would break into bitesize bits and feed me around my mask. Only when the candy was gone, was I allowed to wash up and change. I laid there until he returned a few minutes later, his hands red from the washing he’d given them, and sat down on his couch. He patted his thigh. I rolled to my side, pushed to my hands and knees, and went to him, laying my head on his knee.
“Such a good boy. I wish I could keep you here all the time. Would you like to be my forever pup?” He fed me a bite of candy. I chewed, remaining silent had its advantages. “Pity we can’t have dogs in this building. I can take you to the lake, though. Would you like that? Would you?” I pawed at my mask. “Oh, sorry, yes you can take that off and go wash up.”
“Thank you, Master.” He popped another bite of candy into my mouth before I got to my bare feet.
“Bend over.” He removed the bright pink collar, laid it over his thighs, and fed me the last bit of candy bar. “Remove that in the bathroom then get changed into street clothes.”
“I remember,” I quietly said. He had strict rules about coming and going. Obviously, the guy did not want his neighbors to know he got into gay pup play kink. Whatever banged his drum. I took no offense to being pushed out back doors like a shameful secret. I knew my worth, despite what society said about my kink and my profession.
He met me at the bathroom door, as always, with my Colts duffel bag. I placed my puppy gear into it, took the five hundred cash, tucked that into the front pocket of my jeans, and lowered my head so he could pet me twice. Pat, pat. Then I was shown to the door, his gaze darting up and down the corridor before allowing me out. When he was sure the coast was clear, he stepped back, gave me a soft shove, and closed the door behind me. Good thing I didn’t have a real tail, or it would have been caught between the door and the frame.
“Night,” I muttered to myself, strolling down the richly appointed corridor to the elevator.
Body primed from play with no release, I decided to visit one of the gay bars across the bridge. It was where Kennedy had found me when I was eighteen, selling blowjobs to leather daddy’s and the kink boys for twenty bucks and a beer. A beer and a blowjob sounded good. The bartender was a friend, I’d sucked him off for over a year in return for a blind eye for hooking in the backroom. Even though I wasn’t of age to drink, he’d supply me while I looked for someone to give me head this time. It had been ages since I’d been there. Since that fateful night I became a Gem. My ride was waiting for me at the curb, part of Pup Whisperer’s puppy care. Like I said, he was okay.
“Where to?” The driver, a black woman with a green ballcap, asked.
“Midnight & Black Moon. Corner of Liberty and 18th.” I placed my bag beside me, absently scrolling through my social media apps. When she didn’t reply, I glanced up to find her staring at me in the rearview. Her eyes were rounded, but she slipped the Camry into drive and headed toward the nearest bridge spanning the murky river. Maybe if I hooked up with some random alpha or daddy, he’d take my mind off the man who dominated my dreams.