Kennel

Ain’t Nothing

Jake and I met at a bar once while looking for a quick hook up, and though neither of us got laid that night, it was the start of a very interesting relationship. Both of us being bisexual, it should’ve been obvious for us to hit the sack, but the dynamic never quite clicked, as if there were a crucial part missing. Instead we found that the one thing that definitely worked was talking about was sex, so since we hit it off, every day or so we’d meet for lunch, shoot the breeze, and air out our bedroom quandaries in front of a like-minded person. It was cathartic for both of us.

Well, a few days ago he winced as he sat down with me for lunch. He said that David, his latest boyfriend, really gave him hell last night. I told him to quit complaining. Me being a top, I hate when bottoms whine, but he took offense to my supposed callousness. After talking about it for a bit, we came to making a bet. I would take on David as his submissive for a week, and if I didn’t surrender, Jake would stop complaining altogether. How hard could it be?

It was very hard, as it turns out. Being a bottom was no cake walk, nowhere near as easy as I remembered it while I was outside of David’s hands, and he sure did pack a wallop. Intensive anal training, restrictive bondage, and merciless impact play wore down my considerable tolerance, and I folded. The only issue was that Jack never clarified what would happen in the event that I called off the arrangement.

The brutal treatments didn’t cease, even as I surrendered, yet I never used the safe-word I had established with David. Though I was loathed to admit it, I had begun to greatly enjoy the grizzly man’s harsh attentions, but my obvious erection may have been a signal for such hidden feelings as well. It was only through pure luck that as I was left panting in David’s dungeon, tightly bound and recovering from intensive use, that I overheard I conversation being had in the next room. It seemed that the couple had planned for me to become involved, a ploy set in place by Jake on David’s orders, and I was to be the main attraction of some BDSM party the two were hosting.

A week later I found myself stooped down on all fours, collar around my neck as other attendees of the celebration gawked and took pictures. Any number of personal questions were asked about me, and my “new owner” revealed the answers to them all. David was only too happy to humiliate his freshly trained pup, talking at length about the extensive sexual conditioning I’d undergone. I think Jake felt a bit sorry about the whole situation, however. He was the one that gave me the fluffy pink armbands to keep me warm.

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