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You try to start slow, though he’s impatient. This is new for both of you, and you are worried about overwhelming him if you go too far too quickly.
Jack doesn’t care, though. He trusts you, and he’s too enamored with the thought of it to waste time talking through it. When he gets an idea in his head, he’s impossible to dissuade. So before you can even begin to discuss limits with him- something he evidently doesn’t think he has- he is ushering you into the car and driving to the nearest pet shop.
It would be a shame to disappoint him, you figure. As you wander through the store, he trails behind you, suppressing an excited giggle when you find an aisle lined with pet gear.
He presses himself up against your back, his breath hot as he whispers in your ear, “I’ll wear whatever you pick out for me, just make sure it’s strong enough.”
“For what?” You study the multiple rows of collars, trying to guess what size would fit a human.
You can hear the smile in Jack’s voice as he replies, “for you to pull on, duh.”
“I see…” You move down the aisle, eyeing the thicker, heavier collars. “How disobedient are you planning on being?”
“Depends on how much you let me get away with.” He follows close behind you. “You’re gonna have to be strict.”
Your heart pounds in your ears as you lift a large, plain black collar from a hook. Suddenly, it’s as if every security camera is pointed at you, specifically, and as someone passes you and Jack, walking briskly down the aisle, you could swear that for a moment they paused, just to stare, as if they knew.
You take a deep breath, feeling the soft leather between your fingers. “Think this will work?”
He steps back as you turn around to face him. “Let me try it on first, so we know it fits.” He tilts his chin up slightly, inviting you to put it around his neck.
You lower your voice. “Jack, there are people around, I’m not…” With a sigh, you glance in either direction. There is a couple lingering near the end of the aisle, but they’re distracted by their own quiet conversation. Jack is still waiting. “Alright.”
Slipping it around his neck, you pull it through the buckle, tightening it carefully. It’s fairly wide, so it shouldn’t dig into his skin, and the buckle is metal- strong enough, you figure. As you buckle it, he grins, asking, “how does it look?”
He looks proud, flushed with excitement down to his neck, a stark contrast to the jet black of the collar. Impulsively, you hook your finger through its loop, pulling him down for a quick kiss that he accepts eagerly. “It’s fine,” you reply brusquely as you push him back, acutely aware of the eyes now fixed on you from down the aisle. “We have an audience now, so take it off before we get yelled at.”
Before you leave, you grab a matching leash. You bring both to the register, hoping the cashier doesn’t ask any questions. You don’t have quite the relaxed demeanor that Jack does, but his presence puts you at ease, and you leave the store only a little mortified.
***
He always looks so imposing standing over you like this, inches away as you sit on the edge of the oversized chair. He had begun stripping the moment you two were through the door, and he’s in only his boxers now, his broad, hairy chest rising and falling deeply as he tries to stay calm. He holds out the collar and leash, price tags freshly snipped off.
Your hands tremble as you grip the collar, laying it out flat. He’s waiting for your command, and for a second your mind goes blank. He’s submitted to you before, but not to this extent- it’s all so foreign to you. When you look up into his eyes, though, wide and unquestioning, that uncertainty fades. You don’t have to overthink. You already know what he wants.
“Down,” you tell him firmly.
Without hesitation, Jack kneels, hands planted on the floor, but straining up toward you, neck exposed.
You lean forward and place the collar around his neck, pulling it taut, and buckling it. Slipping a couple fingers under it as a test, you’re assured he can breathe comfortably.
His stare catches you by surprise. It’s undignified, pitiful, the way he gazes up at you, needy for your touch. As you take his face in your hands, you stroke his scruffy cheeks. “You look so pretty in your new collar,” you coo. “Are you going to be obedient for me tonight?”
His lips part as he whines softly, eyes half-closing. You give yourself a moment to enjoy his response as you run your fingertips through his beard. Nothing makes you happier than watching him melt at your touch, the way he relaxes and his shoulders start to slump.
When you release him, he starts squirming, eager for more. Sitting back, you push down your shorts, spreading your legs so he can crawl in between them. After connecting the leash to his collar and wrapping it around your hand a few times, you lean back and tug on it lightly. “Go on,” you say, cupping your other hand around the back of his head and bringing him between your thighs.
He mouthes urgently at your crotch, frustrated by your thin underwear blocking his access. You let him struggle, and he whines louder, nosing at them to push them to the side. When he finally does, his tongue is on you immediately, and he starts tasting your fluids.
“That feels good,” you murmur, and at your words Jack moves faster, licking along your labia, up to your clit, then plunging between your folds. He’s sloppy, drooling, and noisy, his lips smacking against your pulsing cunt as he pants heavily and moans.
Gradually, you work your fingers into his curls, until you’re gripping his hair tightly in your fist, and you yank him forward, holding his face against your cunt as you wrap a leg around him to keep him still.
His noises only grow louder, tongue sliding along your walls as you grind against him. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed in concentration as he slurps at your wetness.
You pull roughly at his hair and the leash simultaneously, back arching as you climax against his mouth. “Fuck, you’re such a good boy…” you groan, overcome by a rush of tingling heat spilling through your core.
When you release him, he pulls back a little, gasping, sweaty, hair clinging to his forehead. After giving you a few final licks to catch the fluids still dripping from between your folds, he sways dizzily on his knees, pawing at the wet bulge in boxers.
“Stop it,” you chide, still catching your breath, but he ignores you- you’re not sure if he even hears your words in the state he’s in. He reaches into his boxers, grabbing himself.
You reach forward, seizing his collar and pulling him upward. “I said to stop.”
Automatically, his hands drop to his side as he squirms, mewling pathetically. Though you almost feel bad about it, you don’t hesitate to shove him down to the floor, until his forehead is pressed to the carpet. “Stay,” you command, sitting back and placing your foot between his shoulder blades, feeling tremors run through his muscles.
He tentatively raises his head, and you react on instinct, forcing him down on his stomach with your heel. He doesn’t fight you, even as you dig into his shoulder. All he does is wait at your mercy.
“You want up?” You ask, rubbing your foot up and down his back. “Are you done being bad? Are you going to behave?”
His back rises at the gentler touch, but he’s meek now, subdued. Exactly how you want him.
“Bark.”
His body jolts at your command, but he obeys, letting out something close to a squeaky yap.
You know he can do better than that. “Again. Bark for me.”
This one is louder, though muffled by the carpet. He tries again, and again, each attempt a little clearer and more plaintive.
“Alright, that’s enough.” You let your leg slip off him, testing his self-control. “You’re easier to train than I thought you’d be,” you muse.
He’s motionless. Silent.
“Sit up.”
In an instant he scrambles up onto his knees, face red, sweat running down his chin. You can see that distinctive vein in his temple, even under his drenched curls. Licking raw, swollen lips, he watches you closely, ready for your instruction.
“Back.”
He tilts his head in brief confusion, then scoots backward a little, his expression questioning. The front of his boxers are soaked in so much precum it looks as if he already climaxed, but his erection is still throbbing behind the thin fabric, twitching at your stern tone.
“A little more.”
As he moves a few more inches away, you cross your legs and tilt your foot up, this time bringing it close to his mouth. It’s shocking how docile he is in this state, and you want to see if you can push him further.
“Give kisses,” you instruct him.
He places his hands on the floor once again and presses a kiss to the top of your foot, glancing up at you for approval.
“No, sweetie, not like that.” Your smile is patient as you graze your toes against his lips. “That’s not how puppies give kisses, is it?”
Understanding sparks in his pale eyes. He parts his lips, darting his tongue out against the tips of your toes.
“That’s it, good job,” you purr. There’s a certain perverse thrill in knowing that, if any of your neighbors hear those words, they would have trouble guessing that you were doing anything other than training a new pet.
He drags his tongue along the bottom of each of your toes, one by one, then slips his tongue between them. You let out a giggle at the sensation, strange and ticklish and erotic at once. That encourages him, and he takes one of your toes in his mouth, drool running down his chin and onto the carpet as he sucks.
Now that you know how good he is at this, you regret never telling him to do it for you before. You could let him worship you like this all night, and he likely would, but you can’t help taking pity on him after how adorably he’s been groveling.
You uncross your legs, tugging gently on the leash to bring him closer. As he gazes up at you, entranced, you extend your foot and begin rubbing the arch of it lightly against his crotch.
“Ahh-“ he jerks a little, his eyes widening.
“Hush, and stay still.”
He tries to obey, he really does, but he’s shivering uncontrollably as you toy with him. His cock pulsates at your nudges, jumping each time you graze your toes against the head.
He tips his head back, eyes shut, and when you ask him “what’s wrong?” He lets out a desperate little sob.
Maybe you’re too soft to keep this up as long as someone more experienced could- that cry is what finally breaks your resolve.
“Oh, baby… come here.” Tugging gently at the leash, you guide him toward you, taking his hands and placing them on your upper thigh as he straddles your leg. “I know you’re doing your best. You want a reward?”
He starts slowly, unsure, like he might be punished for misunderstanding your instructions. He looks up at you pleadingly, rolling his hips once so that his erection rubs against your leg, and waiting for your response.
“That’s it, go on,” you insist, brushing his messy curls back. You watch him with the most intense affection, petting the top of his head as he starts humping your leg. “Make yourself feel good.”
Slack-jawed, eyes glassy, he grips your thigh, prodding his thick cock against you. His back arches as he starts grinding, and through his boxers you feel his heavy balls sliding up and down the slick trail of precum he leaves along your leg.
He starts to lower his head, but you grasp his chin and raise it. “Look at me,” you order. As he raises his eyes again, pupils wide, you scratch right behind his ear. “You’re cute when you’re pathetic.”
Jack ruts against you faster, licking your hand as you caress his face, and you recognize immediately that he’s trying to earn more praise from you.
“Aww, who’s my good boy?” You coo, holding out your palm for him to lick. As he does, his gaze is begging, adoring. It’s like he’s forgotten everything that came before this moment, and all he can process is your touch and your voice. “Only good boys get to play on their owner’s legs.” You press upward a bit, lazily massaging his length as he brings himself to orgasm.
He cries out wordlessly, eyes locked on yours, body writhing on you as he cums. The room is filled with the sounds of his gasps and the wet squelching of each thrust against you as his semen leaks through his underwear and down your leg.
You pet him calmly, and as his movements slow and his grip loosens, you give him permission to lower his gaze. When he does, his face hits your lap in pure exhaustion, his warm breath tickling your bare skin as he finally begins to relax. For a while, you work your fingers through his curls, then move down his neck, playing with all those tufts of dark hair across his shoulders.
Finally, you ask, “sweetie? Can you move back a little?”
He lets out a broken whimper, hiding himself in your lap, as if he’s afraid you’ll push him away.
“I just want to hold you,” you explain. “Would you like that?”
Reluctantly, he raises his head- just barely- and scoots back. His face is streaked in tears.
You join him on the floor, pulling him into an embrace. Like he always does when he needs comfort, he rests his head on your chest, scrunching himself up against you.
As you hold him, you run your fingers over his collar. “I’m so proud of you. How well you listened, how obedient you were. My perfect little pet.”
He buries his face against your neck, shuddering sobs overtaking him as he clings to you like a security blanket.
“That’s it, let it out.” Submitting so completely has left him vulnerable in a way he couldn’t possibly have been prepared for. You press your palms flat against his back, grounding him. “I’ve got you.”
It doesn’t take long until he tires himself out, and by then he’s so still that for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep. Eventually, though, he stirs, lifting his sticky face off your shoulder.
He sits up slowly, and you unbuckle his collar, removing it and setting it aside. As you wipe his wet cheeks with your thumb, you ask, “was… that too much for you?”
“Nah, don’t worry.” His voice is raw. He takes your hands in his and kisses your palms. “If I wasn’t so fucking drained I’d try to get ya to do more.” As he starts to laugh, he winces, shifting a little.
“What’s wrong?”
“Back hurts,” he mutters, sitting straighter. It doesn’t seem to help.
Maybe you were too rough after all. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
He shakes his head. “I was just in the same position for too long. Didn’t think it would get to me.”
“You never think these things through, darling.” Standing, you help him to his feet, and he holds onto your shoulder as you bring him into the bathroom.
This might be your favorite part- showering with him, washing his weary body. After such an intense evening, there’s something so pure about it. When you clean his soft cock, he watches, entranced by your gentle touch and the way your fingertips glide over his pink, velvety flesh. He doesn’t react in any other way, though. He just stares, smiling sleepily.
Bringing him to bed is easy for once. He collapses beside you, but asks, “do you need some space to sleep? I don’t want to-“
“Hush.” You slip an arm around him, pulling him halfway on top of you. “Don’t pretend like I’m not going to wake up with my puppy curled up against me anyway.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “You can’t call me that when we’re not playing,” he says, his voice unusually shy.
“But you like it, don’t you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
After a few seconds of nuzzling against your neck, an embarrassed little display of affection, he mumbles, “yeah…”
“That’s what I thought.” You rub his back slowly, feeling his body slacken against you.
He’s asleep in only a couple minutes. When you hear his light snoring, you let yourself drift off, content with your pet in your arms.