The Dominant Male

to her breast, willing them to give her permission to go and put her drawers on, only too aware of the predatory gaze on her well-whipped rear.
    ‘Indeed. You two girls, be so good as to ask Mrs Snodgrass if we can have you here a week today and ask her to see that you are not whipped on the bottom for a few days beforehand. We will need pristine targets if the experiment is to be rigorous.’
    Still, Comfort wondered what they intended, though something told her that it was going to be trying.
    ‘This time next week then,’ Ellington said, allowing them to flee to the rod room at last. ‘But next time we will see how the blonde deals with the birch and the brunette likes the cane.’

Poodles – Guy Masterleigh
    The car had come round behind the house. We went out to meet and greet our friend, The Craftsman, who slipped out and to the back of the estate car, and opened its back door. His new bitch launched herself out and bounded up to me, put her forepaws around my waist and licked my face.
    Laughing, he clipped a lead to her collar, called her to heel and led the way indoors, with her rubbing up against his hip, his left hand stroking her neck and head. We sat in the living room; the bitch, Jessie lounging on the hearthrug in front of us.
    Rosie, our maid, brought in tea, as we caught up with each other’s news. He’d brought the new whipping-stocks for Cathy. He’d trained his new bitch fully and thanked us for seeing her potential and preparing her for him. It was the best thing that had happened for him, indeed for them both, he said. She was thriving on the new regime we’d recommended, losing weight, puppy-fat, building muscle where she needed it; she certainly looked very good to us.
    He explained that she was always eager to play. He’d made it a reward she looked forward to, worked hard for. She didn’t play unless the house and office were spotless, the books up to date and everything in order.
    (Readers, she’s his wife, business partner and puppy-girl! You didn’t think it was that sort of story, did you?)
    He explained that though she looked naked, he’d had a suit made for her, an all-in-one body stocking, in a fine fibre, thinner and stronger than spider webs, (nanotubes and buckyballs, or something; he obviously knew his stuff).
    Though she looked and felt naked to the touch, it covered her all over, except at the neck, head and face, just enough between her legs for natural functions, and the nipples poked through too. With her dark hair in bunches, either side of her head, she looked adorable, like a poodle.
    At knees, elbows, fists, wrist, toes, ankles, soles of the feet the material was thicker, like padded leather. It even supported the bust. He said it was really tough, to protect vulnerable joints, and deny her the use of thumb and fingers, but if it did wear, he could spray on more layers. It had been moulded exactly to her body, just too tight in key ways to let her stand upright.
    We were fascinated, and just had to look at her all over, stroke her. She showed her appreciation, pressing herself into our questing hands.
    I explained that we had two more guests coming for the first time; Steve and Denise: he’d told us she wanted to be a puppy for him. Rather like them. So as not to surprise them with too much too soon, would he mind if Rosie looked after Jessie for now?
    Our guest arrived and we went straight into dinner. We didn’t talk about why they’d come, I’d suggested that beforehand – ‘best wait until we’ve sized each other up and had a glass or two of wine to relax.’
    Steve did most of the talking, he was powerfully built, she was petite, almost delicate, but I saw she perhaps had a core of steel under the surface.
    After dinner I took them into the living room, whilst Rosie cleared away. I showed them a gallery of puppy photos, naked puppy-girls, nude puppy-boys, puppies in suits, and in bondage. They were fascinated, asking all sorts of questions. The answers made them all the more keen, if anything.
    My partner, Cathy, then took Denise upstairs for a girlie chat, whilst The Craftsman, Steve and I talked more about what he wanted of Denise and what she’d said she wanted.
    I explained to Steve that my friend could make almost anything that may be needed, though his prices weren’t cheap. Steve assured us that wouldn’t be a problem.
    The ladies came back down, Cathy nodded to me. So I asked if they’d like to meet a real-life puppy-girl? Their