Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Good.” He gives me a mischievous grin.
“Hood first.” I pull it from the bag. Evan’s eyes are intense on mine as I slip it over his head. Once it’s in place I pause, wait. His eyes are closed, his body relaxes…and I can see him, feel him start to slip away a little. He’s not totally Pup Runt yet, but he’s trying to get there.
“Good boy,” I tell him, and he opens his eyes, cocking his head slightly as if he’s trying to figure something out. “We’re almost there, and then we’ll go play.”
His hood is followed by his gloves. Kneeling down, I put his knee pads on him next before pulling his tail out of the bag. We went back and forth on wearing it tonight, part of Evan a little embarrassed but the other eager. In the end, he decided he wanted it because it helps him slip into puppy space even more.
“Turn around, spread your legs, and put your ass out for me,” I instruct. He does so as I lube the plug at the end of his tail. When Evan shakes his ass for me, I can’t help but lean forward and bite it, earning myself a sharp yelp, followed by a sexy little groan.
“Don’t do that. You’ll make me want you again,” I tease.
I’m so amped up that my fucking fingers tremble as I spread his cheeks and push the lubed plug into his hole. Evan whimpers, pokes his ass farther out, and spreads his legs more, hungry for this as I am. “Good boy. Such a good pup.” I rub my hand over his round ass, kiss it and then smile when he wiggles it, making his tail wag.
“Christ, you are so fucking cute, I can’t even handle it.”
Once I’m to my feet again, I pull the last preparation from the bag—his leash. We’ve been training with it more the past couple of weeks, teaching him how to walk on it better, like the well-behaved pup he is.
“Just let go, little runt.” He leans his head away, giving me better access to rub his neck, which I do. “Let go. Have fun. I love my good boy.”
“Mmm.” He gives me a soft, sexy whimper.
He doesn’t crawl until we’re out of the restroom, but I do lead him by his leash. Music vibrates through the room, mixed with the sound of talking, laughter, barks, and growls. “Down,” I tell him once we’re in the large, open area most of the pups and handlers are.
Pup Runt obeys, so I pull a Reese’s Piece out of my bag and give it to him. “Good boy. Come on. Let’s go find Z.” He’s been a lot of help to us. I’ve had quite a few conversations with him the past couple of weeks in preparation for tonight. I want to do this right for Evan, don’t want to fuck it up, and Z understands that.
There’s a sense of pride, this overpowering feeling of rightness that starts in my fingertips and races the length of my body as I walk Pup Runt through the room. It eases an ache I’d never known was there before Evan, and the fucking incredible thing is, I know being on his knees, being my pup does the same for him.
“Good boy.” I continue to praise him as we make our rounds, looking for Z. Pups are running, playing, sitting beside their masters. At the front of the room, there’s a closed-off area where pups play and wrestle with one another.
“Do you want to play?” I ask, and he barks once, which means no. He wants to though, I hear it in the tone of his bark, the eagerness there, but he’s just not ready. “We’ll get there.”
My eyes scan the room before I see Z, leaning against the wall. He’s in all leather, two pups with him, one on either side—a muscle pup and another that’s smaller, a bit more twinky like Evan is.
“Come on. This way,” I tell him tugging gently on his leash. Runt follows me over. Once we get to Z, I tell him, “Sit,” which Pup Runt does. “Good boy.” I give him another candy before giving him some scritches.
“Well, look at him. He sure is a cute pup,” Z says. “Can I pet him?” The respect in this community is fucking incredible. It’s obvious Runt is mine, and I love that no one will touch him without my permission.
“Yeah. Thanks, man.”
Z holds his hand out, just as he would with a real dog. Pup Runt doesn’t move for a moment, then cocks his head, which he does a lot when he’s slipping more into puppy space. Then…then he leans in, noses Z’s hand as though he’s sniffing him. When he does it harder, pushing at Z’s hand, giving his permission, Z finally kneels and pets him.