A Master and his Boi

I poured all of that knowledge into the operation of my tongue. I let go self-control - what little I had left as a pet-slave - and let Madame have the full force of my longing to please. She writhed on the bed and her hand took my head with her as she moved around. I just licked, licked, licked, like a good slave should, and a few beats later she came with a light, fast orgasm that I hoped had cleared her head. With a flourish of her hand, she released me.

"Good boi! Heel now."

She threw on her panties and her bra; enough to show she was a free-woman and not a slave. I snapped to heel, trying to be a good pet, and she strode out of the room with me following. No leash held me, I simply followed because I was a pet. I knew no other way to behave in that moment, so I crawled after the gorgeous girl and awaited her next order.

We made our way out into the fragrant, warm night air, onto the front lawn. My Master's daughter was there already, playing with Fumble. She tossed a stick, her wavy brown hair bouncing and glinting in the moonlight; Fumble raced off after it, his smooth cock and balls going this way and that. Princess laughed and Fumble raced back to her, then took up a display position to present her the stick.

"Hi!" yelled Madame.

"Hi you two!" replied Princess, "Come over here and play with us."

"Here, let's see how your dad's boi does. Hmmm, ah, here's a stick. Pumpkin, fetch! Go on, boi!" said Madame.

I set off after the stick the moment she threw it. Energy flowed through my limbs and I pushed hard to get it was fast as I could; I meant to impress her with my speed but instead I heard her laughing. "Your balls look so cute when you crawl-run, puppy, you have no idea!" she cried after me. She could not see me blush in the dark, but I knew what she said was true, for I had seen the same thing in many other petmales.

I went back and forth, back and forth. It pleased her most when I opened my legs a little wider as I ran on all-fours, so I made sure to work that inasmuch as possible. Her laughs of delight came especially loud when I stopped to pick up the stick and made a show of thrusting out my bottom to her.

The warm air caressed my skin as I played with her. Whenever I got back to her, I took the chance to gaze on her beauty. Her curves made my mouth water; her hair shone; I saw great self-possession in her eyes. I forgot about my wife dancing inside, about my Master awaiting my return. Madame captivated me.

"Good boi," she said some time later, "time for one more game. Can we have them wrestle?"

"Sure. Fumble, Pumpkin, no biting, no major marks, no scratching. Go for it, bois!"

Fumble sprang up from beside Princess, bounded across the grass, then cannonned into me and knocked me flat. The girls shrieked with laughter as I went down, and then they moved to stand next to each other and watch. Fumble launched himself on top of me, and I felt his cock brush mine as he made contact. I twisted and threw him off, then scrambled up to all-fours and backed off.

He charged again but I dodged to one side. As he passed I thrust myself into him to throw him off balance. I felt him hit the grass with a thud, but he sprang back up and barked with joy, then charged straight at me again. I tried to mask my laugh as a bark, and I got away with it. Fumble hit me from the side again and we tumbled over in a tangle of limbs.

The girls clapped and cheered and Fumble gave a quick yap, just for me. It meant follow my lead, or do what I do. Human pets have a little language between us, yips and yaps and body language that can communicate a few basic things. It helps us serve our owners better, and is tolerated.

What Fumble meant was that the girls wanted to see us close together, locked in a tight wrestling embrace that would provide the maximum boy on boy action. I could not help but try to please my superiors, so I obliged. A warm flush spread through my body as the girls wolf whistled and egged us on: I loved to be praised by them.

"Pin him, Pumpkin!" yelled Princess.

"Get him on his belly and give it to him!" cried Madame.

"Ha, yes! To the victor the spoils!" agreed Princess.

I could sense Fumble's desperation to cum. He poked and prodded me with his stiff cock every time he could. We rolled and wrestled, and his hardon only grew stronger. Each of us breathed heavily with the effort, but in his breaths I heard something else. A note of lust, some wistful sighs - thinking perhaps of the consequences of defeat - and a lot of hard work. He really wanted it.

As we rolled around and he pushed me this way and that, I realised something. He was genuinely going to win. I had no need to fake it, because the spry young petmale was genuinely better at wrestling than I. He had a counter for every move I made. I got on top, he used his weight to roll us around. I broke a hold, he barged me to throw me off balance. I pushed, he let me, then pushed back when my force was spent.

"Good boy, Fumble, now finish him!" cried Madame.

Fumble got his mitted hands beneath me and flipped me onto my front. He jumped onto my back and knocked the breath from my lungs. With my last effort, I pushed up and took him a little off the ground, but he hammered his body back on top of mine and I landed with a thud. He hooked his paws through my arms and pushed out, then did the same with my legs. I squirmed, then went still: he had won.

"Excellent show, bois. Here, I had a maid bring us some lube - it'll just take a little and then you can fuck. Good boi, good boi. All right, Fumble, you're ready. Is Pumpkin ready?" said Madame.

"He sure is."

"Fumble, fuck your new friend!"

He howled then slid inside me. The girls stood by, watching while we pets fucked on the grass. I thrust my knees down into the ground, which yielded pleasantly and let me hold firm against the eager thrusts of Fumble. He wasn't making any effort to prolong his pleasure, but just living in the moment. He whined and yipped, fucking me with short hard strokes of his owned cock.

It always felt good to be filled, that I could not deny. Fumble had a nice cock and it sang inside me, but I sensed it would not be there long. Already I could hear him panting and whining, and already I could feel his shaft start to spasm. It didn't surprise when he came just moments later, perhaps two minutes after he started to fuck me. He howled, which made me jump, then he slid out of me and yipped happily.

"Good boi Fumble, good boi Pumpkin. Well, I think your father is waiting for his property back. Come, Pumpkin, I'll take you," said Madame.

She leashed me and led me off smartly back into the mansion. We went right through the wide open front door, into a wall of heat and sound and light, then through a few twisting corridors filled with happy people having sex, and into the ballroom itself. Madame caught sight of Master, who sat in an armchair in the middle of the ballroom, at the foot of a stage where someone danced.

There were lots of other chairs arrayed around the stage. When Madame handed Master my leash, Master leaned over and kissed me, then he pointed to a spot in front of him where he wanted me to sit. I went willingly, and no sooner had my limbs folded beneath me than Master's fingers started to stroke my hair. I leaned back into his touch and he increased the pressure from his caresses. For a while, we sat together like that, him on the chair and me on the floor, his fingers all I needed to pay attention to.

A little while later, Master stood to address the audience in front of the stage. He kept a firm grip on my leash as he talked.

"Friends, ladies, gentlemen, slaves, welcome to the finale of my little party! As you know, I am the patron of several fine charities, and I find ways to support them whenever I can. Tonight, several of my own slaves will go up for rental auction - no, not this fine animal on my leash - and some of my great friends have been kind enough to add in their own property as well.

"Rental periods are as specified by the auctioneer, and all proceeds go to my favourite charity, Owners in Need - they do fine work buying slaves for owners who have fallen on hard times, and as we all know from time to time, even the best of us can find ourselves in money troubles. Owners in Need take washed up slaves, ruthlessly rediscipline them, then send them out to owners who need a leg up. Why, when I left home I had nothing but the clothes on my back - did you know I built all this with the work of my first two slaves - from this very charity? It's true! Now, let the auction commence!"

The auctioneer was a woman dressed in a black tuxedo and matching bowtie, with short black hair in a pixie cut. She bounded up onto the stage, grabbed the mic and kicked off proceedings. First up was one of Master's maid-slaves, a boi named Philippa who had curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He came onto the stage in a white minidress with matching heels, and immediately twirled to show off his dazzling body.

"Here we have Philippa, a beautiful little sissy-slave whose cock-sucking skills are legend among our assembled company. Philippa is a butt-slut par excellence, and also cooks, cleans and generally tidies up. He's so useful! Who will bid for a week of ownership of this fine boi?"

Philippa went to a broad-shouldered man with long brown hair, who had bid fiercely against two elderly women with great lust in their eyes. Master clapped and I yipped my applause as Philippa was led away, trembling, his hands bound tightly behind his back. I could see his renter-owner already had a hardon beneath his trousers.

Next up on the stage was a female pet-slave called Bubble, after her shapely bottom. She strutted around the stage yipping, rolling, yapping, playing and displaying herself. A girl perhaps fifteen years younger than her bid on her against a boy the same age, finally winning out and taking the petgirl's leash to rush her off the stage to the rear garden.

The third and fourth items were basic service slaves, a boy and a girl, who I had noticed Master did not seem to like much. I wondered if they were being sold here with a view to getting them somewhere they were more suited, or whether Master was simply showing them that more obedience was needed. Perhaps neither: they were just his property, and he could do with them what he wanted to.

The fifth item was a duo, a pair of pet-males who were often seen together around the mansion. They cavorted and played together for the audience's amusement, and this time the elderly female couple bid and won them easily. One of the women came over to Master and whispered into his ear, and he smiled and nodded back: I sensed a longer sale had just been agreed.

The final item was my wife. I sat open-mouthed as she was led up on stage. Master gripped my leash tightly and made sure I watched. My wife wore a chastity belt, and a schoolgirl's outfit. I could tell by the look on her face that she had been dosed with an aphrodisiac but not allowed to cum, and I felt a great sorrow for her to be so frustrated.

She strutted around the stage, showing off her spankable arse and her perky tits, making eyes at all the men who were bidding. She twirled, she bent down, she shook her tits and arse for more bids. She thrust her chastity cage out towards the audience and Master held up the key for all to see.

In that moment, I finally broke. My wife was no longer in any sense 'mine'. She was a full slave, a piece of human property who clearly enjoyed her situation to the absolute maximum. She had no shame at flaunting herself, and the attention made her laugh and smile with true happiness. The auctioneer had her continue strutting until she was finally won by a group of four young men, friends of my Princess, who took her back to their couches in the ballroom and had her start sucking them off right there.

By and by the party came to a close for us. Master led me up to his bedchamber, where his slavegirl Rose joined us. They worked together to get me out of my pet-clothes, then they put me on the bed and started to rub me down all over. Master worked on my shoulders and back while Rose did my legs, and I relaxed down into the bedclothes while my superiors worked their magic.

"Whose are you, Pumpkin?" whispered Master.

"Yours, Master."

"Whose is your wife, Pumpkin?" he asked.

"Yours, Master."

"Yours too?" he asked.

"I... N... No, Master."

"Correct. Right now the four young men fucking her senseless while she screams for more have more claim to own her than you. Why is that?"

"Because she is property, Master."

"Whose?"

"Yours, Master."

"Do you resent me for that, slaveboy?"

"I find I cannot, Master."

"Good answer - why?"

"Because she seems happier and more carefree than ever before, Master."

"And so in your love for her, you recognise her fulfilment?"

"Yes, Master."

"Do you know, Pumpkin, three trainers offered to buy you tonight, for hefty sums."

"Oh, Master."

"I did not sell you, Pumpkin. Ask me why."

"Why did you not sell me, Master?"

"Because you too have found happiness and fulfilment as my property, Pumpkin, and I want that to continue for as long as it can. Masters like me love their pets, Pumpkin."

"I love being your pet, Master."

"Remember, Pumpkin, even on two legs you are always that."

"Yes, Master."

"Now, Pumpkin, let's see about this new hardon of yours before we all go to sleep..."

"Thank you, Master!"

THE END