Training her Pup Ch. 01: Bad Boy!

Rascal, my precious pup, what a good, sweet boy you've been for your Mistress this week. It gives me great pleasure to know my eager pup is waiting to greet me on my return home, leash in mouth, panting with excitement. And it isn't just your mouth that is drooling, is it pet? Your stiff little puppy penis is straining to greet its Mistress too and making a slippery mess on my hardwood floors. Well, pet, that's something you are going to have to clean up, isn't it? Can't have anyone slipping due to an overexcited little pup in the hallway.

However, I can't be cross with you as I know how hard it is for you to sit and wait, albeit wriggling and whimpering with excitement, and not to jump up and snuffle your wet nose under my skirt, especially knowing that I'm not wearing panties. Of course, I wear them to work. I am a professional and my feminine charms are not for just anyone. Men can be so crass and fickle; not like a devoted little pup who will give love and affection unconditionally. No, I park the car then shimmy out of my panties and hold them in my hand before getting out. I know how keen your sense of smell is, and how important it is for you to connect with your Mistress so, as I pass your dog bed, I drop them in so that you have something to sniff when you are alone at night and when I am at work.

I trust that you won't get overexcited and use your teeth to tear the delicate silk, but no-one can blame a needy little pup from sniffing, licking and sucking on them for a little taste of his Mistress in the dark of the night. Everyone needs their comfort object, and a sweet little pup needs it more than most. Maybe he might like to wrap the soft, fragrant, slightly moist silk around his straining puppy penis to form a warm, silky barrier between his eager shaft and the rough skin of his paw? And, tomorrow, I'll pop them into the wash and replace them with a new treat infused with your Mistress' essence. I believe you would make a good bloodhound with the way you have imprinted on my scent. I bet if I were lost or kidnapped, you could sniff me out from wherever I had been taken!

But now I am relaxing in my favourite chair - deep and soft, with wide, padded arms. You know why I love this chair so much? It is exactly the right height for my puppy to please me. All I need to do is to scootch my voluptuous bottom closer to the edge of the cushion, lean back and sling my thighs over the arms and then, well, there's no stopping animal instincts. Sometimes you stay on all fours, lapping happily for hours on end, giving me multiple releases with your skilful tongue. Other times you need to get even closer and jump up, placing your forepaws on my thighs so you can bury your snout right into the source of your treat, lapping and sucking at the tender inner places and my little pink pearl.

If I unbutton my blouse and release my breasts from their lacy confines so that I may toy with them at my leisure, you get distracted, licking and suckling at my pert nipples. Sometimes I do wonder if you were weaned too early?

Such a good pup not to show teeth when you are feasting so hungrily.

However, tonight you are so overcome with excitement that you jump up and try to mount your Mistress, and that requires a firm slap to your dripping puppy penis and a sharp tug to your collared balls, making your little bell tinkle.

'Down, rascal! Bad boy!'

You have not been given the command to mount and it is not good practice to indulge a greedy pup with whatever he wants, whenever he wants. You need to heed your Mistress' commands and know your place, so tonight you will be banished to your puppy cage.

---

The next evening, I sit in the car outside my home. My puppy is in disgrace. I have had to be firm with him as part of his training, otherwise how will he learn to be a good boy if I indulge him in all things? The rules are sacred, and a good owner will not be swayed by big sad eyes or an overabundance of excitement. I know that if he has followed my commands, he will be sitting in his naughty corner with his head hanging down, thinking of how to be a better boy.

So, panties, or no panties? I don't want to reward bad behaviour, but I know my rascal needs to know he is forgiven.

Panties in place, I enter the house and immediately my eyes go the rascal's corner. Good boy, waiting for his Mistress to give him permission. Your expression of hope tinged with fear of further reprisal tugs on my heartstrings.

"Here, boy!"

I smile as you scamper over, excitedly nuzzling your face into my outstretched hand, lapping happily at my skin. Stroking your fur with my other hand, trailing my fingers around your ear and around the back of your neck, I caress my happy pup, showing you with my actions that all is forgiven.

Walking to my chair, I slowly slide my skirt up my stocking-clad thighs. My good boy waits, knowing you haven't been given permission and not wanting to risk your Lady owner's displeasure once again. Not begging or whining, but every muscle tensed in readiness, eyes bright, clearly desperate for me to say the word. But no. Not yet.

'Sit, rascal. Stay!' I continue to lift my tight pencil skirt until the lacy tops of my stockings come into view. Your tongue is lolling and I swear I see drool. And still my good boy is waiting patiently. I'm proud that you have learned respect for your Mistress despite your natural animal urges.

With the suspender clips giving way to black satin straps, the tops of my creamy thighs are now just inches from your snout. And now, my white lacy panties are in view, and your eyes are riveted to where they are lovingly cupping my netherlips.

With my tight skirt now clinging to my waist, I sit and rest one thigh across the arm of the chair. There is nothing to impede your view of my blood red fingernail tracing the top edge of the lace, dipping below it, and slipping further down, taking two of its neighbours with it.

Can you see my fingertips pressing pinkly through the thin lace? Now they are parting my plump lips, allowing my middle digit to caress my delicate inner petals and awakening clit. My sweet pup is salivating, licking his chops in anticipation, whining softly as my pupils dilate and my tongue flicks out to moisten dry lips as my arousal mounts. My other hand, which had been tweaking idly at my pebbled nipple, now makes its way down to join the party, hooking the damp gusset and pulling it aside, exposing my juicy folds to my eager pup's hungry eyes.

I rest my head back, eyes closed and lift one foot, still in my patent black heels, onto the seat beside me. Now I have two fingers of one hand plunging deep into my slippery quim and the middle finger of my other working my swollen button, finally pinching it hard between finger and thumb, sending myself over into a breathless, quivering release.

When I open my eyes, I can see that I am not the only one breathless and quivering. My needy little pup is squirming, and his stiff puppy penis is drooling on the floor. It's time for him to have a treat.

'Rascal?' You look up excitedly, tearing your eyes away from my damp gusset, ready for your next command.

'Stay, boy. Wait for it...' I stand slowly, bringing my soaked crotch an inch from your eager snout, then tweak the bows at my hips and pull. The ribbons unravel and the flimsy lacy flutters down, revealing my neatly groomed pussy pelt to your eyes. Plucking the sopping scrap of fragrant fabric from between my glistening thighs, I dangle it above your upturned face, and then drape it over your mouth and nose.

'Hold it, rascal. Stay...' I'm impressed that you are just breathing in big lungfuls of spicy air but you haven't moved a muscle.

And... 'Catch!' I delight in how you flick the panties into the air and catch them in your mouth.

'Good boy, rascal!'