Puppy - 1. Puppy

Puppy kneels on the floor.

No one told them to, but it feels like the place to be. The floor is hard under their knees, but Puppy doesn't mind. Beside the armchair, they wait.

"Turn your hand over," she says.

Boyfriend obliges. He looks at her like she is the sun.

"Don't look at me," Domme says. "Look at Puppy."

Their eyes meet. Boyfriend looks excited, nervous, eager. Puppy wants to wag his tail.

"Tell them they're a good boy."

"Good boy." Boyfriend's voice cracks when he speaks.

"Say 'thank you'," Domme instructs.

"Thank you."

"Well done. You can start now."

Puppy licks at their lower lip, pulling it into their mouth. It is so rare to get such a nice treat.

Puppy starts slow, rising very slightly from their sitting-kneel, bracing one hand on the side of the chair as they place a closed mouth kiss to the inside of Boyfriend's wrist. Boyfriend's breath stutters.

Puppy misses the way Domme petted them, so they bend and press their face – nose and mouth and cheek – against Boyfriend's wrist, nuzzling into his palm, mouthing gently at his fingers. Domme makes a pleased noise. Puppy chuffs, happy to do well, then opens their mouth.

All they do is set their teeth against the fine, fragile skin of Boyfriend's wrist, and the boy flinches in his seat. He is sensitive, Domme explains. Puppy laps with their tongue, strong tendons from playing guitar, and feels Boyfriend's pulse jumping. It is delicious.

Puppy shifts where they kneel, furiously aware now how roused they are, how empty their mouth is, and how there is no one here now to pet them and tell them they are good for helping Boyfriend. It is nice, being of service, but it is awful when no one needs you later.

*

Puppy gets up, shakes themself down, and goes on search of a drink - apple juice would be nice - because the party is still going on.

It's not so bad, they tell themself. Maybe they will be able to boast about how close they got Boyfriend to coming, how good it felt to serve, how fantastic Domme's praise. Because all that is true.

Later, Puppy will be able to get off to the memory, already knowing they will paint the end over differently. They don't know how yet – there are so many choices – but anything which doesn't end with Alone is preferable.

Maybe there is someone in the kitchen at this party who knows where the juice is. Maybe they'll pet Puppy's head...

*

The Host is in the kitchen.

Puppy stands there blinking. They know they want juice, but the steps to achieve that are alluding them. Thinking is hard.

"Hey there." Host is speaking to them. Puppy blinks at him. "Having a good time?"

Puppy nods, they are sure they do. Their eyes slide sideways away from Host's face, trying to remember how to get juice.

"Something you need Puppy?"

Puppy blinks back to attention. Host needs them?

"Oh sweet thing." Host's voice is as soft as his hands. Lovely hands, delicate almost, but strong and sure where they cradle the side of Puppy's head. Puppy feels moments from dropping to their knees again. "Is anyone looking after you? Speak, please."

Puppy blinks and shivers because words are hard, but Host is asking and Host is good and strong and projects a feeling of calm certainty. And Puppy isn't certain of anything right now. Their jaw shudders as they breathe enough to answer.

"No."

"Thank you Puppy. That was very good. Well done."

Puppy drinks in the praise, those lovely words in a warm voice. The desire to kneel is bolder now, harder to resist.

"Stay with me," Host commands. "I need you to speak again, OK Puppy? Just one more. You can do it."

Puppy whines. They really don't have the same faith Host does. But Host is rubbing little circles behind their ear with one thumb now and Puppy doesn't want that sensation to end.

"Look at me." Puppy meets Host's eyes. Strong, caring, good. "Would you like me to look after you?"

Puppy sighs softly. An easy question.

"Yes."

"Good boy," Host says quickly. "Thank you."

Puppy shivers, pleasure coiling in their belly. The magic words sound so good when Host says them.

"Let's get you off your feet."

Puppy hums in agreement, and starts to let gravity take them back to their knees. Host is quick to hold them, pulling them to stand again.

"In a chair, Puppy. Here." Host steers them with two strong hands on shoulder and hip.

"Sit."

Puppy sits.

"Good boy."

Puppy preens.

"Well done. Now, I'm going to get you something to drink. Water?"

Puppy wrinkles their nose.

"Hmmm...Juice?"

Puppy wants to wag their tail again. Host is so good, so perfect, so-

"Need you to stay here, alright?"

Host is leaving?!

Puppy whimpers, suddenly worried. They're not sure where they are, only it's not the kitchen any more, and they don't want to be alone again.

"Count to ten for me? You can do it in your head. I will be back before you finish." Host pets Puppy's hair. "Stay. Good dog."

Puppy breathes in.

One.

And out.

Two.

And in.

Their mouth feels so empty.

Three.

Their head is too noisy.

Four.

They miss Host.

Five.

Breathe out.

Six.

Puppy just wants to be good.

Seven.

And have juice.

Eight.

Juice is good. Maybe there will be a straw.

Nine.

Breathe-

"Good boy." Host's praise curls around Puppy like a blanket. The touch starts on the top of their head and works down, and soon they are sinking, boneless, into the chair. "Perfect. Well done Puppy. Open your eyes now please."

Host smiles at them, proud.

And joy of joys, Host has a juice box, the stiff little straw already poking into the package, and Puppy whines because they want.

"Open please."

Puppy does just as asked.

"Good boy. Drink. Little sips."

Juice is tangy and cold and welcome, but the straw catches in Puppy's teeth and, Puppy feels warm and flushed and exactly as they should do. But they don't rush, little sips just like Host said, focusing just on that as they play with the straw between their teeth.

"Good boy. Open please." Puppy obeys, but they keep their eyes on the straw as it departs.

Host notices. Of course he does, Host notices everything.

"Can you tell me what you need?"

Puppy can. Normally Puppy is very good at talking, but normally is not now. Puppy doesn't think they can manage ‘I have an oral fixation and sometimes it's the only way to shut my brain off’ just now.

Puppy whines and bites their lip. Themself is no where near as good as an object, a thing, a toy, and those are nowhere near as good as another person, but it is better than nothing at all.

"Oh sweet thing," Host croons, voice soft. "I said I'll take care of you."

Host runs a thumb under Puppy's lip, gentle fingers pry their jaw open, and then Puppy moans as Host's other hand pets and scritches across their scalp. Then narrow fingers are smoothing over their teeth, sweeping across the plump wetness of their tongue.

And Puppy is grateful for the chair, because their legs are... somewhere, and made of liquid apparently. Their eyes start to close and they are nothing but a mouth being stroked, and fur being petted, and somewhere under that a spike of arousal being smoothed and sated. Host's voice is low and close, whispering praise which filters through the gentle buzz of nothingness in Puppy's mind.

It is glorious.

Host rubs finger tips over the bumps of their molars, tests the points of canines, the sharp cuts of incisors. Host walks two fingers on Puppy's tongue, palpating gently, and Puppy feels adrift.

"Show me," Host says.

Puppy sticks out their tongue, drooling.

"Good boy. Pretty."

Puppy moans.

"You're doing so well Puppy. Such a good boy. Time to start coming up now."

The pressure on their teeth turns to light touches, the stroking of their tongue becomes fingers running over their lips. It is gradual, gentle, Puppy barely notices when their jaw is shut for them, and a soft cloth brought up to wipe their face. Firm scratches along their scalp turns to strokes, to soft petting motions, to just resting and being held between Host's hand and his belly. Distantly, Puppy can hear the sounds Host's body living, working, breathing.

Speaking.

Host is speaking to them.

"You did great. So perfect. We're going to stay here until you can talk, and then I'll take you up to one of the bedrooms for a little nap, alright? I know you drove here, but I don't think you should drive back for a while yet."

"Well done. It's nice to hear you. You do colours? Can you tell me?"

Puppy takes another big breath. They can feel their fingers and toes and their body again. The chair. Host. Feels nice, being grounded against Host.

"Green."

"Good boy." Host slips his hand from Puppy's head to their neck, to their shoulder. "Feel up to walking?"

Puppy flexes his toes in the carpet.

"Yes."

"Perfect. Well done." Host takes half a step back, just enough for Puppy to stand, but not to break contact. "Nap time."

Puppy nods, grateful for the strong, sure hand which rests between their shoulder blades, showing them the way whilst letting them choose.

"Yes. Thank you."

Puppy can feel Host's smile when he speaks.

"Good boy."