Nifty Readers:

For those of you who have followed the Puppy Love series, this is the second installment of a series of short sidebar stories that I have written especially for Nifty. Each story is written in the voice of one of the main characters of Puppy Love. They are not intended to advance the plot of the main story, but rather to offer an entertaining alternative perspective from the characters we have gotten to know through the voice of Petey. This particular installment is told by Matt, Petey's Master. Hope you enjoy. http://www.jefferno.net

Puppy Love: Matt's Story

The first time I noticed Petey Drinkell was back in the ninth grade. We were in the same algebra class, and I caught him staring at me one day before class started. It was sort of amusing, to be honest, because as soon as he realized I'd noticed him he got all embarrassed. He quickly looked away and pretended he hadn't seen that I'd caught him looking. I could easily have fucked with him that day. Could've asked him what the hell he was starin at. It might've actually been funny to see him squirm a little, because I knew a little shit like him would be easy enough to intimidate. There was something about the kid, though, that I liked.

Maybe it was those big brown eyes. Back then Petey wore glasses, and his hair was always a mess. He was sorta dorky looking, but in a way that wasn't ugly. I think the fact that he's so little made him seem boyish. Well I guess back in the ninth grade he really still was just boy...literally. We were both fourteen then.

That was about the age that I was first starting to figure out who I was. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'd been going through an identity crisis or anything like that. I've always been confident about who I am as an individual, but growing up the way I did, more-or-less just provided me a series of clues about who I was destined to eventually become. Once I hit my teen years, I started to put these puzzle pieces together and everything started to make sense.

When I was ten years old there was this other kid in my neighborhood named Will who hung out with me quite a bit. He was a year older than me, but you'd have never known it. Will wasn't exactly what I'd call shy, but he was certainly more of a follower than a leader. He was kinda unsure of himself, and he was the type who would pretty much go along with anything anyone told him. It didn't take me long to figure out who was Alpha and who was beta in that relationship. It didn't take Will long to learn the chain of command either, and it got to the point where he did pretty much anything I told him to do.

Thing about Will was that I just got the sense when he was around me that he hung on every word I said. He sorta idolized me in a way. It was like he had no opinions of his own, and whatever I said that I liked, he liked too. If I disliked something, on the other hand, he hated it. Some guys might be a little annoyed by this kind of emulation, but to me it just seemed natural.

I was in Little League at the time, and I also played flag football during the fall. I was already a pretty damned good tennis player, and my dad was teaching me how to golf. When it came to sports and physical fitness I was a role model not only to Will but to most of my other classmates. Everyone knew that my family owned a chain of fitness centers, and my dad stressed from the time I was a baby how important it was to always be physically fit and active. The aptitude I had for sports was something that seemed to just come naturally to me. It was inborn. Superior genes, I guess.

Of course Will didn't possess much athletic ability at all. He was too self conscious to play on a team sport. He embarrassed easily and seemed to put a lot of effort into staying out of the limelight. Even though I had no desire to hurt the guy, I found it incredibly amusing that it was so easy for me to humiliate him. I'd do little things like make him pick up a piece of ABC gum off the ground and chew it. He'd stop and look at me, his face reddening, "Do I have to?" I'd just nod and stare at him intently, fully aware of the stern and demanding expression I was giving him. Reluctantly he obeyed. He always obeyed.

When I stepped in a pile of dog shit on his lawn one day, I was pissed. He kept apologizing to me, as if it were somehow his fault even though his family didn't even own a dog. I let him take responsibility for it, though, and made him kneel down and scrape the shit off my heel with a stick. He then ran inside and got towels to use in order to finish cleaning my sneakers. That was the very first time another guy knelt at my feet to serve me, and I knew there would be many, many more to come.

Will never sucked my dick though. His family moved away when he was twelve, and I never saw him again. But having known him the way I did for that year or so, I was awakened to a side of myself that many people would not necessarily understand. Some people may have considered me cocky or arrogant, and I can't really deny that these characteristics were a part of it. In truth, though, I realized that it was actually just a part of nature. It was survival of the fittest. The dominant members of any species rise to the top of the social system. It was about status. Some people were born to be leaders; others were naturally followers. I liked the fact that I was in the first group, and as I was initially discovering this reality of course I was a bit conceited about it.

Even before I met Will I was aware that I had the ability to control people who were weaker than me. I used to have a cousin named Marcus who spent a lot of summers around our house. I remember when we were eight years old, I pinned him in a schoolboy pin, sitting on his chest with his elbows trapped beneath my knees. Staring down at him and feeling him squirm defenselessly underneath me gave me a feeling of tremendous power. I then tickle tortured him til he pissed his pants. He was too afraid to tell his mom what really happened, and so he lied and said he'd had an accident. I kinda thought after that incident that he would never want to come back for another visit, yet he practically begged his mom every chance he got. Then when we were alone together it seemed he was almost goading me into dominating him. He never pissed himself after that first time, but there were several repeat performances of the tickle-torturing.

I was fourteen the first time I got head, and it was from another guy. Tommy Guiness and I were on the same freshman baseball team, and he played right field. I was pitcher, of course. There was something I sensed about him from the way he looked at me. It was sort of the same feeling I got from Petey Drinkell that day in algebra class. Probably the reason something happened first with Tommy was simply due to the fact that we spent so much more time together. We were on the same team, shared the same locker room, and had a lot more opportunities to hang out with each other.

When I invited Tommy to my house that Saturday afternoon, I already knew he'd be serving me one way or another. I also knew that it would be strictly one-way service and that I would not in any way be returning the favor. In fact it seemed to me that just by allowing him the privilege of serving me, I was the one doing him the favor. When it was over with, I knew I'd been right. I could see it in his eyes. I could tell by the way Tommy looked at me that a need within him had been fulfilled. We had basically satisfied each other's needs. He needed to serve, and I craved being worshipped.

The first few times that I used another guy like that were a major rush. I absolutely loved that feeling of total control over another person. I liked seeing the way he needed me. He needed to serve me enough to beg for it. It was like he was born for that very purpose, and he'd do just about anything to feel that sense of gratification he got from pleasing me. I found it exciting--a major turn-on sexually but even more than that, it was a rush of power. At fourteen I felt like I was totally the shit. I was some sort of god or something.

Tommy was only the first of many fags that I used to get my rocks off. Some were true subs like Tommy and Petey, but others were just gay guys who liked to suck dick. Regardless of what they were, though, the rules were always the same. They pleased me, and I never reciprocated. I wasn't about to suck another dude's dick, and that was non-negotiable. I never got a single complaint though. There was never so much as a suggestion that it ever be any different.

It wasn't long after I started getting head from guys that I tapped my first pussy. The chick's name was Kristy, and she was sophomore. Being the jock that I was, it was just sort of expected that I have a girlfriend, and Kristy was the perfect person to fill the job. She was blonde and cute with nice tits, and she was very popular. Had I been anyone other than who I was she would have never dated me, simply because I was a freshman, but she knew the same thing that everyone else did. I wasn't like the other dudes my age.

Since Tommy was the first fag ever to suck me, I figured he should also be the first to get fucked by me. I knew what it was like to fuck pussy, and I wanted to compare the feelings. Of course, fucking another guy is in-and-of-itself an act of dominance, especially when they know they're nothing more than a hole to be used for my pleasure, but there honestly were things about both pussy and boypussy that I liked. When fucking a pussy, the tightness surrounds my entire cock. The deeper I thrust the tighter it feels. Fucking ass though is much tighter upon entry. Going in deeper doesn't provide any better sensation, but fucking faster sure as hell does.

The mere thought of the act itself being totally about my pleasure, and mine alone, was the biggest turn on. When I realized that the fag (or "bottom" as they call themselves when they're getting fucked) ends up getting enormous pleasure from the experience, it sort of changed the dynamic a little bit. When a guy gets fucked up the ass, the pressure of the cock slammin against his prostrate can actually stimulate him so much that he gets an erection and even has an orgasm. I just found it to be so hot that I had the power to literally fuck the cum out of another guy like that.

There were times, though, when I wanted the entire focus to remain solely upon me and my pleasure. Originally what I would do is order the fag not to cum. I'd tell him he was gonna be punished if he did. Then I resorted to some more severe tactics like icing down his privates. Making him lie flat with his dick sitting on a bag of ice while I fucked his upturned ass. After I shot my load up his ass, I'd make him get dressed right away. When I finally discovered that there was such a thing as a male chastity device, I started fantasizing about locking up a sub and completely controlling his ability to achieve sexual pleasure or orgasm

My experiences in high school were basically experiments. I dabbled into a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Spanking. Piss drinking. Tickle torture. Face fucking. Ass fucking. Even some bondage. What I really thought most about, though, was completely taking ownership of another person. I'm not sure you would really call it a Master and slave kind of situation that I desired though. I really didn't want a slave. I wanted a sub like Tommy who I could tell craved serving me, but Tommy was not the type of guy who would ever be able to give 100% to me the way I desired. He was a jock like me, and he had an image of his own to uphold. His submissive side pretty much only manifested itself on the occasions that we were alone together, and it was not something that would ever be 24/7.

The other issue that I faced was the fact that I honestly did love pussy. I loved having a girlfriend. I liked the idea that people looked at me and assumed that I would have a girlfriend simply because I was the kinda guy that I was. It was more-or-less a given that there would be a hot looking chick available at my beckon call. I didn't see how owning a sub would ever fit into that reality on a long term basis.

I mean I knew one day I'd get married. I knew I'd be taking over my dad's business and starting a family of my own. I was not about to give up my birthright just because I liked to dominate other guys. Never for a second did I ever even entertain the possibility that I might be gay. I am no fag. I wasn't then and I'm not now.

It was in September of last year that everything really changed in my life. I had started at the community college, planning to take a couple years there before university. The plan that my dad and I discussed was that I just go to local college for the first couple years because he was in the process of a major acquisition of fitness centers in the area. He was planning to open three or four more stores and he wanted me to run one of them and assist in overseeing the operations of the others. Taking a light load at a community college would allow me to do this without completely forsaking my academic goals.

At the start of the semester I was dating this chick named Tracy. Even though she was a couple years older than me, she was a really good fit as a girlfriend. She was hot as fuck, had money, had big tits, and was the one girl on campus everyone wanted to fuck. Her best friend was this chick named Kathie, and when I first started seeing Tracy I found out that Kathie and her had a fight over me. I guess Kathie kinda had the hots for me for awhile. Kathie, as it turns out, ended up being the big sister of Petey.

The first day that I officially met Petey was a crazy day to begin with. I'd dropped my car off at the body shop the night before to get some detail work done on it. My dad was using the SUV, and my mom had to out of town with her car, so I had no ride. I called Tracy and she had a hair appointment or some shit in the morning. She planned on swinging by and picking me up on the way in to class, but then I'd `ve had to either wait at the salon with her (not happenin) or go to class early (really not happenin). I just said fuck it, I'll take a bus. She was pretty flippant about it, sayin "suit yourself", and I just brushed it off. Big deal. So I'd ride the fuckin bus for once like half the rest of the college kids do.

Well when I got to the bus stop, I noticed this kid standin beside me. I recognized who it was because I remembered him from clear back in my high school algebra class. It was Petey Drinkell. He looked up at me with that same sorta expression that I'd seen in Tommy's eyes like a million times. "Dude," I said, "why are you shivering?"

It was like at least seventy degrees out, and I knew he couldn't be cold. He was obviously nervous, and I suspected it was simply from standing next to me. Well the way he responded to me left no doubt whatsoever in my mind. He just stuttered and stammered, and I could barely make any sense of what he was sayin. Next thing I know, the bus pulls up and we both get on.

Well then the kid takes a seat back towards the middle of the bus and pulls out some big Harry Potter book. It just about cracked me up, because if I could've predicted what a guy like him would like to read, that's exactly what I'd have expected. I glanced back at him a couple times and saw him pushing his glasses up on his nose. He really was a Poindexter, but he wasn't so much of a geek that he was homely. He just was sort of nerdy in a cute kind of way, if that makes any sense.

When I overheard these two snot-nosed thugs starting to hassle the kid, I almost jumped in to intervene, but I instead decided to mind my own business. I wanted to see how Petey was gonna handle the situation, plus I knew the ride wouldn't be all that long. When we got to the school I got out and headed for class, but decided to wait inside the main entryway for Petey to walk in. I was curious about him and wanted to try one more time to get him to talk to me. I waited for a few minutes, scanning the bulletin boards, but he didn't come. I figured maybe he had a class in another building, but then I remembered those two thugs who were sitting behind him on the bus. There was just something that told me to go check things out, so I headed back out of the building towards the bus drop-off point.

As I rounded the corner of the building I saw Petey on the ground. He was on his knees in front of one the two guys who'd been bullying him. Just as I began to approach them, I saw the guy who was standing there in front of Petey wind up his arm and smack Petey right in the face. He was holding something though, and it looked like Petey's Harry Potter book. It was a thick hardcover. The impact of the blow was so loud that I heard the shattering of his glasses as they flew off his face, and I also heard what I thought was probably the breaking of bone.

"What the fuck is goin on here?" I demanded. At this point my adrenaline was pumping, and I was fuckin pissed. There was nothing I hated more than a bully. Sure, I was a Dom. I loved to control other guys, humiliate them, manipulate them, make them service me. But when I did this, I knew I was giving them exactly what they wanted. What they needed. That was far different than bullying.

These two punks who were beating up Petey, were not Doms by any stretch of the imagination. They were just weak motherfuckin lowlifes who had to try makin themselves feel better about their pitiful existence by tormenting someone they perceived as being weaker. A shy, unassuming guy like little Petey was an easy target. Immediately I saw red, and as the fury welled up inside me I could easily have ripped each of them limb-from-limb. As soon as that cocky bitch opened his mouth, assuming that I was there to join him and his friend in tormenting the helpless kid who was already lying on the ground with blood gushing from his broken nose, I momentarily lost control of my own emotions. I took a furious swing at him, nailing the bastard right in the jaw, and down he went.

At the time I didn't even realize how fuckin hard I'd hit him, but later I wondered for awhile if I hadn't broken my own hand. During that moment, though, all I could think about was rescuing Petey. I've seen some nasty shit before, but the way he was bleeding was pretty wicked. I crouched down beside him and grabbed hold of him, scooping him into my arms. He was crying and begging me not to take him to the hospital. His pleading didn't last long though, cause within seconds he was out like a light. I ran quickly back towards the building. I was gonna take him inside and have someone call 911 or give us a ride to the ER. Just as I rounded the corner I looked towards the parking lot and saw Tracy's car pulling in.

She pissed me off, though, the way she was more concerned about possibly getting blood on her carpet than she was about the boy lying unconscious in my arms. "Shut up and drive!" I demanded. She glared at me furiously for a second, then obeyed. Not many people have the guts to challenge me when I'm being that demanding about something. Of course, as soon as she looked down and saw who was I was holding she recognized him.

"Oh my god, that's Kathie's little brother!"

"Yeah, it's Petey Drinkell, and I think he has a concussion. These two guys were beatin the shit outta him." She stepped on the gas and gunned it out of the parking lot.

"Get my phone out of my purse, would ya?" she asked. "Please... I think Kathie's number is in it."

Kathie was absolutely frantic when I got her on the phone. I guess her parents had both died only a couple years ago, and she and Petey were pretty close. She said she'd meet us at the ER. Tracy dropped us off and headed back to her class. She had a test that morning, and plus she and Kathie were still not exactly on speaking terms. I stayed with Petey.

It was when Petey came back around and stared up into my eyes that I truly saw his vulnerability for the first time. Seeing him stare at me in algebra class and watching him shake nervously at the bus stop while he tried to talk to me--those incidents were nothing compared to the way he looked it then in that emergency room. That was really the moment that I sensed there may be a lot more in store for us in the future.

The days and weeks following Petey's attack were pretty laid back. Even though I knew that Petey was sub and that he yearned to serve me, I also felt that it would really freak him out if he tried exploring this aspect of himself. It was too soon after his beating, and I didn't want him to perceive me as being just another bully. I knew that if he were to submit to me, it had to be something that he did to fulfill a need within himself. Usually I'm not too good at waiting for the things I wanted, but there is such a thing as integrity. Taking advantage of someone as vulnerable as Petey at a time like that would have been about the lowest thing I could've done.

It was like two months later when I saw him again after that week of his attack. Right after it happened he had a couple shiners that made him look like one of those bulldogs like on the little rascals. I told him he looked like a bandit, like Petey the dog on L'il Rascals. When he bumped into me two months later on the sidewalk, I was walking a dog that looked exactly like that. I'd gotten it from the pound, and of course I named him Petey.

Petey was so excited to see the puppy, and he knelt there in front of me petting his namesake. It was when he looked up at me that I once again recognized that look in his eyes. It was like hero worship, as if he was in awe of me. I almost expected to see him start trembling again like he'd done back at the bus stop, but instead he just quickly looked down at the ground. I knew the time was right, and I then invited him over to my house.

Before Petey I'd never been with a sub who didn't already know he was a sub, or who hadn't at least already admitted that he was gay. A lot of times gay guys sense that they have a need to be dominated and seek out ways to explore fulfilling this desire, but in Petey's case it just seemed far more natural than that. It never was a matter of roleplay or kink. It was totally genuine.

It just seemed appropriate that I was the very first person Petey told about his identity. As I might have expected, it was an emotional admission. He'd struggled for the longest time trying to figure out who he was and what his attractions to guys had meant. He confessed to me that he was afraid he was a fag, and I told him it was cool. No matter what, he was still a chill dude.

It would have been so simple that day for me to give him direct orders about what he was to do, but I knew there'd be plenty of time for that later. It was instead important for him to verbalize his own desires. In order for him to be my sub, he had to express to me that it was what he truly wanted. Once he made this admission and requested my ownership of him, then I'd take what was mine.

And yeah, that's what it was. Ownership. It was what he wanted. What he needed. And it was what I'd sought all along. In the months that followed we explored how far we were gonna take it. At first we started out with sexual domination. I made him service me on numerous occasions. It was always oral in the beginning. He was so young, just learning. Odd that I say that really, since we're the same age, but emotionally and socially he had an endearing immaturity about him that made him seem so vulnerable. I wanted to push him as far as I could and test his limits, but I also knew it was my responsibility to care for him.

That's probably why I started calling him my pup. Sure in the beginning it was a nickname that I'd given him cause of his black eyes, but it was appropriate in a far more significant way as well. Petey was hyper emotional just like a little puppy. He craved attention and affection and needed reassurance. He missed me terribly when I was away from him. He was unfailingly faithful and loyal. And of course he would do anything to earn my approval.

Never once did I have to teach Petey to call me sir. He was doing that before we'd even left the hospital. I really didn't have to give him a lot of coaching on how to suck my cock the right way either. It just seemed to come naturally. He loved sitting at my feet, waiting for my attention. He loved my praise the same way a canine loves being petted. Yeah, he was definitely aptly nicknamed. He was indeed my pup.

The issues and struggles we had during the first few months we were together were less about Petey's training than they were about my life goals. I had never envisioned myself being in any sort of relationship which could be labeled "gay". I guess in the beginning I didn't really even consider what Petey and I had to be an actual relationship. In my mind I called it "ownership". He was available to serve me. He got what he needed out of it, and so did I. Being as emotional as he was, he was quick to confess his love for me. It was cool, and I was fine with that. I expected that a needy and dependent sub like him would fall in love with his Master. It was only natural.

I wasn't about to allow this to change who I was though. I had a plan for my life. That plan included running a very successful business. Getting married some day. Children. I honestly suspected that I would always have subs like Petey on the side, but they would just have to accept the fact that I was Master. I was gonna continue to be who was and do what I wanted to do. That is the dynamic of Master and sub. The Master makes the decisions, and he also bears the responsibilities.

It was my status that entitled me to get the things I wanted out of life. If that included sex with women or even sex with other guys, it was my prerogative. I knew that this was something that Petey initially struggled with, but I also realized that if he were to make any demands to the contrary, he would essentially be sacrificing my ownership. He wasn't about to do this. I knew how much he needed me. I knew he needed me more than I needed him.

Isn't that the very essence of power? Need. Who needs whom? If a Master needs a sub, then he becomes a slave to that sub. I didn't need Petey. My life would go on just the same without him in it as it did with him at my feet. He was the one who needed me. He was the one who was dependent. He needed my guidance, my reassurance, my protection, my approval, my praise, and my training. He needed me to the point of obsession. I became his reason for living. That is what ownership is.

It was at the time of Petey's nineteenth birthday party the following spring that things started to get a little murkier. It wasn't that the rules had changed at all, and it definitely wasn't that I had softened in any way. It was that my desires started to change. I began to rethink what it was that I really wanted. For all this time I had been so confident that I was gonna get what I wanted out of life, and that nothing was gonna stand in my path. The irony of it, though, was that the things I was really gunnin for were not even the things I truly wanted.

If I were to get married and have a bunch of kids just to appear normal, how dominant would that be? If I were to allow someone else to impose their rules and expectations upon me when it came to the decisions I made about my lifestyle, who would really be in control? It sure as hell wouldn't be me. It was one thing to go out and fuck a chick because it was something I enjoyed, but it was quite another to do so just to maintain an image. If I preferred Petey's soft lips around my cock over Tracy's big tits bouncing in my face, shouldn't I be free to make this decision? Should there be any shame in it? Should I hide it?

I was not at a point where I was ready to pledge fidelity to a sub. I'd never do that. It wasn't Petey's role to dictate to me who I could or could not see. If it is monogamy that Petey seeks, he needs a different relationship, because that was never the issue. Bottom line is that although I'm not gonna allow myself to be subjected to a label, I'm also not gonna deny what I want and how I feel. Truth is that I love Petey. He is my choice. Being his Master is my choice. Being his lover is my choice. Being his protector and friend and companion--all my choice.

Making that choice to have Petey as the central person in my life was never the same thing as committing to monogamy. It was never a co-dependency. It was never a concession on my part. I never said to Petey, "I love you and therefore want things to be a lot more equal between us." Anyone who thinks that doesn't have a fuckin clue what a Dom/sub relationship is about. That is not the kind of confession Petey would ever even wanna hear from me. He needs me to be his Master, now and always. And I want him to be my sub, and I deeply love him.

Perhaps the realization of the depth of this love was initially startling to me. I guess it did kinda rock my world a little. There was this voice in the back of my head warning me that love was gonna make me vulnerable. I thought maybe in a way I would start to need him as badly as he needed me. I felt it might cause a power shift; it might give him leverage that no sub should ever have. But then at a certain point it was as if I had this epiphany. As faggy as that may sound, it's true. It was a realization.

I realized that it was Petey I was talking about. Petey who loved me with his whole heart. Petey who would literally lay down his life to serve me. Petey who eagerly obeyed my every command. Petey who was honest to a fault. Petey who was incapable of lying or stealing or cheating. Petey who was loyal til the bitter end. This is the one I was worried about giving up leverage to?

I guess all the months that I'd been focusing upon teaching Petey about trust should have taught me a lesson as well. I absolutely knew that I loved Petey, and I simply had to trust that my honesty about this fact would not be something that he would use to ever attempt to manipulate me. Sure, every sub does in one way or another try to covertly influence their master, and I suppose this could be viewed as manipulation. But I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that Petey has no desire to shift the dynamic of our relationship.

And the mere fact that I now refer to what we have as being both an ownership and a relationship is perhaps a concession in and of itself. So be it. I consider it merely semantics. It's a relationship. Period. Not a marriage. Not monogamy. Not exclusivity. But there is no denying that it's a relationship, and it's one based upon love and trust.

It was after I'd begun sorting all of this out in my head that I was faced with some other serious shit. I had come to the realization that I loved Petey and that I didn't so much enjoy sex with chicks all that much. I knew that Tracy was gonna be history, but that is not to say I would never do the nasty with another member of the female species. It just was not something I wanted, at least not now. Right now it was Petey that I wanted. But then Tracy dropped her bombshell. She was preggo. Fuck me!

She decided on an abortion, and we went through that whole ordeal together. I'll admit that at the time I was a real prick about the whole thing. I really wanted her to terminate the pregnancy because I just saw the whole thing blowing up in our faces. A baby at that point would have changed everything for both of us. Neither one of us felt that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives, but having a kid together would have connected us in a way that was irreversible. Looking back I wish that I would have handled it differently. I wish I'd simply been supportive of whatever decision she made. To explain it all now would seem more like I'm trying to make excuses for myself.

I decided not to tell Petey about any of it, and this is a decision that I don't regret. As his Master it is my job to decide what things are appropriate to tell him, and what things he doesn't need to know. I felt that knowing about the pregnancy would be very hurtful to him. Knowing about the abortion would be even worse. He would probably blame himself for it in some way. He'd probably start having all these fears about whether or not our relationship was denying me the possibility of having children someday.

This whole ordeal was something I was thrilled to have put completely behind me by the time Petey and I took vacation together. Going away with him on a Caribbean cruise was beyond awesome. Seeing his face light up when we walked aboard the ship the first day--taking in the grandeur of his surroundings--made the trip worth every penny of the ticket price. By the end of the first day we'd made the acquaintance of a couple gay guys named Evan and Ben, and we spent a good portion of the trip hangin with them.

Evan was a middle-aged guy, probably about forty or so, but he looked and acted a lot younger, and his boyfriend Ben was closer to our age. At first it seemed that Evan was sorta like Ben's sugar daddy, but after we got talking to them it became obvious that their relationship was closer to what Petey and I had. It was definitely Dom/sub with Evan being the Dom. After Petey called me "sir" a couple times out of pure habit, they understood we had more in common than we'd initially thought.

I didn't really think it was gonna be so cool to hang with a middle-aged professional guy like Evan. Come to find out he was a lawyer from some big New York firm, but after having a few drinks with him that first night I got a sense that he regarded us as equals. Let's put it this way, he respected my status as a fellow Dom, regardless of my age. And I liked the fact that he didn't try talking down to me or treating me like a novice because of my age.

"Interested in doin a swap for the night?" he asked as he lit his cigar. We were sitting poolside on the deck at an umbrella table. I smiled at him and nodded, understanding full well what he was proposing.

"Tempting," I admitted. Ben was pretty hot, what I'd describe as looking sort of like a rent boy. Movie-star good looks, perfect boyish facial features and a rockhard solid gym body. "But I don't think Petey's ready for that yet."

Evan shrugged. "Why not? If you're ready for it, he needs to get ready, right?"

It was my turn to shrug. "I guess so, but I gotta trust my gut on this. I've been waiting for the right time, and there's another Dom--my best friend Alex--he's gonna probably be the first I swap with. No offense."

"Well we're both here right now, and I think your boy is cute as fuck...but suit yourself. We could do it as a four-way--all of us together so he saw his Master was right there, if you think that'd make it easier." He took a drag on the cigar and propped his feet up the empty chair beside him.

"It's not that really. Petey would do whatever I told him, whether he liked it or not. He'd do a good job of serving you too." I looked down at his feet, probably about a size twelve or thirteen.

"So what's the problem?" Evan asked.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I took a swig of my beer. "Well, I guess it's not really a matter of Petey being ready, to be honest. I'm the one who's not ready, and I'm not sure I ever will be. I just don't like the idea of another dude fuckin my boy."

Evan laughed. "I can understand that, man. I hear ya, and ya know I'd respect whatever limits you set. If you don't want me tappin your boy's ass, there's plenty of other shit we could do." Almost unconsciously he rubbed himself, doing it in such an inconspicuous manner that it was like he was merely adjusting his junk, so to speak.

"Yeah well I can think of a few things I'd like to do with your boy too," I smiled, "but to be honest this cruise was a birthday present to Petey. I want it to be something special for him, something he'll always remember."

Evan feigned mock indignation. "I see how I rate," he said jokingly.

"Not how I meant it," I brushed off his comment. "I want the trip to be about us--Petey and me. I want him to remember it as our time for each other."

"No problem," Evan said, "it's cool."

Petey and Ben had taken off to tour some of the gift shops aboard the ship, and I heard them approaching as I went to take another swig of my beer. "Sir," Petey chimed in excitedly, "you should see all the cool stuff I got." He slid down beside me, kneeling on the tile at my feet.

"Lemme see," I said, smiling down at him. I reached down to take the bags from his hand.

"Wait sir!... um, please," Petey said. "There's something in there I don't want you to see yet."

"Petey," I said with a scolding voice, "what'd I tell you about my pup buyin me presents?"

He looked down at the ground in front of him. "I'm sorry sir, but I had to, and it's not just for you. It's for us. You'll see, I promise..." He quickly pulled one of bags aside and set it beside him, then handed me the rest of his packages. As I removed each item from the bags he continued to prattle on, explaining whom he'd gotten each souvenir for--his sister Kathie, her boyfriend Carter, a couple of his coworkers, my best bud Alex, and of course his best friend Drew.

The enthusiasm of Petey's excitement was infectious, and the three of us were all smiling as he dramatically explained his choices of gifts. Literally everything about Petey is absolutely transparent, and this is probably the one thing about him I love the most. In the beginning his emotionalism was at times annoying and sometimes challenging. It became difficult to gauge exactly how far I could push him in expanding his limits. But as much as I felt irritated when he overreacted to things, I also knew it was a part of his makeup. It was simply who he was. Everything about him is real.

He really is like a pup, and I don't mean this in the canine roleplay fetish sorta way. I mean he is excitable and loyal, and he craves praise and reassurance. He really is in many ways like a human version of my canine pet. He needs to be petted, so to speak.

And even though I say his emotionalism can be annoying, I honestly think that this was why I fell in love with him. It was impossible for him to hide his love for me, and it just sort of rubbed off on me. He just has a purity--an air of innocence--which makes him so loveable. Sometimes just looking at him gives me a hard-on.

And after my conversation with Evan, seeing Petey this way made me rock hard. Knowing that another Dom had just offered to barter his muscle stud boy for my Petey made me proud that he was my property. Seeing him kneel there beside me on the hard tile of the deck reminded me that being by my side was more important to him than appearances, more so even than his own comfort. And hearing his excitement bubble out of him as he innocently recounted the adventures of his shopping excursion made me wanna give the little guy something to really be excited about.

"We're gonna call it a night," I said, interrupting Petey. "Let's get together tomorrow and hang out if ya want," I said to Evan. "I'm gonna hit the gym at about eight tomorrow morning if ya wanna join me." Petey looked up at me, a look of disappointment crossing his face. I knew he was worried he'd embarrassed me. He probably felt I wasn't interested in all that he was saying.

"Sure ya don't want another beer. Night's still young..."

"Thanks, but it's been a long day. Gimme a call in the morning; you have our room number, right?" He nodded and I tipped my beer bottle towards him just before setting it down, then turned and nodded in Ben's direction. "Nice meetin ya, Ben. "

"Thank you," he said. I noticed he didn't address me as "sir" and thought momentarily how I'd like to teach him some manners.

"Come on, pup," I said as I stood up. Quickly Petey gathered up his bags and said his goodbyes and we headed back towards our room.

"Sir," Petey said as he hurried behind me, "is something wrong?" I didn't answer him. I wanted him to worry for a little bit longer, and I knew my silence would drive him crazy. After a couple minutes he finally mustered the courage to speak again. "I'm really sorry if I did something wrong, sir."

"Quiet!" I said, "Can you just shut your mouth for once?" I didn't turn around to look at him but knew he must be crestfallen. He'd probably be in tears by the time we were back in our room. My cock was throbbing in the confines of my Umbro shorts. I was glad Petey was behind me and couldn't see. I suspected he probably was afraid I was genuinely pissed at him for buying me the gift. After all it was a violation of a direct order I'd given him.

When we finally got to the room, I entered first and turned around to look at my pup. As I expected, his big brown eyes were welling with tears, but he was afraid to speak. He froze in his tracks as I made eye contact with him, then shamefully looked down towards the ground. "Look at me!" I demanded. That was all it took, and as he slowly raised his head to look me in the eyes I saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why're you cryin?" I asked, maintaining an even tone in my voice.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whimpered. "I'm sorry I talk too much! I know I ... I know I embarrassed you!"

I laughed.

And then I waited.

After nearly two minutes of silence, in which time Petey had again looked away from me, wiping his eyes and trying to regain his composure, Petey finally spoke. "Sir, I don't understand." He was whimpering. "Why are you laughing?"

"Cause you're so damned cute," I laughed. "Come here!" Bewildered and confused he stood there for a few more seconds frozen in his tracks, and then finally rushed over and wrapped his arms around me. I grabbed hold of him and pulled him into myself, hugging him tightly. "You were getting so excited down at the pool, just blabberin away, and seein you kneeling there at my feet... it got me horny"

"Then why'd you tell me to shut up, sir?" Petey sobbed.

"Cause I was tired of talking," I said, then grabbed hold of his head and planted a powerful kiss on his quivering lips. He offered no resistance and reached up to place his small hands against my chest. I moved forward, forcing him towards the queen-sized bed, continuing to kiss him passionately.

There is no denying that when I'm packin wood I love to make my pup take care of me, but what is really hot to me is when my pup is the one who gives me wood in the first place. At that moment he had me rock. All I could think of was being inside of him, feeling the smoothness of his tight little body, hearing him cry out and beg for more of me. Just knowing that I had the power to snap him like a toothpick if I wanted, made me crave being all-the-more gentle and careful with him. I love to feel him beneath me, to make him squirm with delight and anticipation. To make him cry out in pleasure... and yes, even pain.

I like that he endures pain for me. Not sadistic, torturous pain, but the pain of my throbbing cock ramming into his tight hole. The pain from my much bulkier body pressing against him. The pain as I pull his hair and smack his ass in the heat of passion. The pain of my teeth gently biting his tiny round nipples. The pain of his aching knees and ankles as he kneels before me to serve. The pain in his throat as I drive my cock in forcefully. And the pain of his breaking heart as he tries desperately to please me just a little more than he did the last time I used him for my pleasure.

God I wanted him! I wanted every inch of his smooth, slender body. I wanted to hear him gasp as I entered him. Feel his body tense and then tremble, and then hear him plead with me to fuck him and fuck him hard. I conveyed all of these desires to him not with pointless, endless nonsensical words, but with my actions. With my kiss. With my hands and body and movements. I pressed myself against him as we toppled onto the bed, frantically ripping his clothing. Tearing it away from his body--that body I had to have.

His tears morphed into fits of laughter, then quickly turned to sighs of passion. He was gasping and moaning and groping at my clothing. And amidst this heated moment of frenzy I heard him cry out, declaring his feelings for me. "I love you sir! Oh god, I love you!"

That was my pup, my Petey. He had to verbalize everything. Feelings had to be stated; it wasn't enough to express them with the action of our lovemaking. He had to have assurances and the reassurances. He had to be stroked and petted and praised. He had to constantly be reminded of his worthiness.

"Tell me what you want," I demanded. "Say it!"

"Oh sir, I want you... I want you inside me. Oh please!"

"Beg for it!"

"Oh please! Oh god sir, oh please! I beg you!"

"Please what?" He was pinned beneath me as I held his wrists firmly against the mattress over his head.

"Please do it sir! Please ... oh please..."

"Say it!" I demanded again. "Say what you want me to do to you, boy!"

"Fuck me! Oh please sir! Fuck me!"

I grabbed the lube from the bed stand and smeared a glob onto my fingers. Reaching down I slid them between his legs and found his hole, instantly driving two fingers all the way in. His pucker tightened , forming a hot suction around them. I wiggled them around, thrusting into him. He moaned as I used my other hand to tweak his nipple.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, boy. I'm gonna fuck you like you know you need to be fucked," I whispered.

"Thank you, sir! Oh ...oh..."

I pulled my fingers out of him and slid my body down between his legs. Grasping each of his ankles I lifted them up and rested them against my shoulders, then leaned into him. Grabbing my now-pulsating cock, I pointed it towards his hole. Gently I eased in, then suddenly without warning I thrust myself forward, driving myself in balls-deep.

That look of ecstatic pleasure-pain flushed his face as he arched his small body in response to the impalement. He threw his head back and moaned. It sounded almost primal, a sort of groan. Then his eyes popped open and he stared me right in the face. His mouth was moving in a small Oh shape, like a fish out of water. Those big brown eyes seemed to be pleading for me.

"You like that boy? You like being my little bitch? Takin my big cock up your tight little ass?"

His eyes remained wide as he nodded. "Yes sir," he whimpered.

And then I drilled him! I rode his ass like never before, thrusting so hard the bed shook beneath us. His whimpers became cries which then became screams of delight. I was intent upon fuckin him so hard it drove the cum right out of him. "Don't cum!" I demanded. I'd trained him to hold off. I'd trained him to time his orgasm to coincide with my own, and I knew I was close.

"Oh sir... I'm so close! Oh ... aahhh... please!"

"Don't cum!" I panted, sweat dripping from my face and chest. "Ah fuck!" I began to pant myself, moaning as I felt myself on the verge of nutting. When I reached the point-of-no-return, I thrust all the way into him, tensing every muscle of my torso, burying my face in his neck. "Now!" I cried as I moaned.

The hot cum fired up my shaft and deep into him. I released myself completely, draining into my cum receptacle. My boy, my pup. I seeded him like I always do, and his small body convulsed beneath me. He fired his own load and I felt it splash violently against my abs and chest. My mouth was again on his, my tongue against his tongue, my lips against his lips. I inhaled his breath and he mine. We clung to one another, trembling and sweating, clutching each other. We were one. I was in him and he was taking all I had to give. Every drop. Every fuckin drop of me!

Exhausted, I slid off of him, rolling onto my back. He was shaking and whimpering beside me. He was crying again, but this time his tears were those of delight. Tears brought on by the intensity of his emotion. He immediately sidled up to me, wrapping his arm around my chest. "Thank you, sir!" he gasped, and then he began to lick his cum off my body.

God, that was some of the hottest sex I ever remember having with Petey. I'll admit we've had a lot of hot scenes, but there were none more intense. I just wanted him so damned bad. It was so incredible to control him emotionally the way I did--seeing him respond to my desires. Thinking he'd disappointed me, he was devastated, only to immediately discover I just wanted him to shut up so I could fuck him.

We laughed about it as we lay in bed together afterwards, naked. Our clothes were everywhere, some of them in pieces. I'd literally shredded his shirt trying to get it off him. He curled up in my arms then, and I held him. He needed to be cradled, to cuddle after his orgasm. In some ways he was just like a chick.

After a few minutes he asked permission to give me his gift. He was so excited, and the pleasure he got from giving to me nearly outweighed my reluctance to accept it. I never wanted gifts from Petey. I owned him already, and felt it unnecessary to take any more from him that what I already had. Petey'd had a rough life, being raised in a home of modest income. Then his parents had died when he was young. He really didn't have money to spend on presents. I didn't want a sub who paid me with material gifts or money. I wanted a sub who paid me with his entire being... with his soul. I wanted to own him, and this was how it was with Petey.

But when I saw the gift, I understood Petey's motivation. It was a small ceramic picture frame embossed with the lettering "Me &My Pup". Obviously it was designed and marketed towards pet owners who were crazy about their animals, but it ended up being a perfect gift for me. We had our picture taken the next day by Ben, and I still have it displayed in Petey's frame in my office.

The trip was everything Petey had hoped it would be, and after that first night it got only better. When we got back to Florida, we rode with Alex and Drew back to Tampa, and nearly were involved in a horrible multiple-vehicle pile-up on the freeway. Being so small, Petey was able to heroically rescue a woman trapped in her car. He was the only one little enough to crawl through the window. I rewarded him that night with a blowjob.

It was the first time in his life he'd ever gotten head, and I had this other sub named Ryan do the honors. Ryan is this dude who went to high school with us, and then he was in one of Petey's classes at the college. We had run into him one night at a leather bar the first time I took Petey out. I knew immediately that Ryan wanted to start some shit. He was jealous of my pup, but I wanted to teach Petey to trust me. I also wanted to show him that no matter who else I decided to be with, he would always be my pup, and it wasn't his place to be jealous.

Of course Petey was naturally jealous in spite of my training. He could sense the way Ryan came onto me. All of his insecurities came bubbling right to the surface. I had to drag his ass off to the bathroom and scold him, remind him of his place. I didn't want my pup being rude to anyone, and he sure the fuck wasn't gonna tell me who I could or could not talk to. I know it frustrated him, but I made him apologize to Ryan, to get drinks for the other sub. But then when the night ended Petey of course left with me.

It just seemed perfect to then use Ryan to later service my pup. When we saw him at a party that same night of the accident, I called him over to me. I told him I needed him to serve me, and of course he readily submitted. Once we were back to the motel room, he learned that he'd be serving me by blowing my pup, and it was then his turn to be frustrated. Petey and I left the motel room immediately afterwards, and I threw Ryan a pair of my boxers to keep as a souvenir. I didn't see him again until a few weeks later when I was planning a surprise party for Alex's graduation.

I was at the fitness center down at the mall. We were planning a big grand opening, and I was in the office. As far as I knew I was alone because the gym was not yet open for business. We still had the windows covered with paper, in fact. Suddenly I looked up and Ryan was standing there in the doorway of my office. I was seated at my desk.

"Hey," I said. "How'd you get in here?"

He smiled sheepishly at me, and then looked down to the ground. "I saw you come in, sir. I was in the food court when you walked by , but you must not have seen me. You left the door open..."

"Did you lock it?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes sir."

"Why?" I stared at him and he looked up to return my gaze. He had piercing blue eyes and the face of an angel.

"So we wouldn't be disturbed, sir." His voice was almost a whisper.

"Look Ryan, it's good to see you again, but I'm kinda busy," I said dismissively.

"I still have your boxers," he said. His voice was meek, almost pleading.

I raised my eyebrows as I looked at him. "What are you doing here, Ryan? What do you want?"

He shuffled his feet nervously and hunched his shoulders slightly. "I just thought...um... I thought you could use some company... sir." In that moment, he looked almost vulnerable.

I stood up and stepped around the desk. I saw his eyes scan my body, taking in every inch of me. I thought he might start to tremble. I thought he might drop to his knees.

I moved closer.

"Sir..." he whispered.

"Why are you really here, boy?" I asked evenly.

"Sir--" he repeated.

"Answer me."

"I want... I want to serve you. Please."

I stared at him and he lowered his eyes again to the floor.

"On your knees, bitch," I said, and reached for my belt buckle.