Tag: good boy

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

akalpha:

Anyone wanna take this pup for a walk?

“Oh no puppy, I know how this works. You want to go on walks, but you end up walking me.”
OJ gives me a look. “Nuh uh. I know how to heel and all.”
“But you don’t listen. We live in the woods. You see a bird or a squirrel or something and you’re GONE. It’s like doggy tunnel vision. Gone.”
“I’ll be good this time!” OJ insists.
“Nope. I’ve spent many times getting the leash pulled out of my hand. We’re going to do something new.”
“…New?”
“No leash.”
“No…?”
“I was going to save this to Christmas but…hold on,” I go upstairs, leaving him waiting, and then return down again. I toss him a box. He catches it, head a-tilt.
“Is this a shock collar?” OJ gasps.
“It is,” I smirk. “Very mild. It’s not a real dog product, but a novelty sex toy, so it’s not very painful. I tested it. This way you’ll obey me and not get lost in nature or run into traffic.”
My pup stares at me.
I smirk. “They also make a version that goes around your dick, you know. Would not even have to remove the chastity cage.”
“I’ll be a good pup,” OJ says quickly.
“Good!” I say, clapping my hands together. “I was hoping you’d say that. Go change for your walk now, and I’ll unbox the collar.”
My pup gulps. “Yes Sir.”

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Captions are fictional. Orange puppy <3.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Matthew carefully creased the towel he was folding and hung it on the towel bar of the stove. He smiled. The barn-red fabric looked nice against the white of the stove. He sniffed the air. The new candle he lit was filling the bottom of the house with its cinnamon-y smell. Perfect.

Matthew gathered the spare oven mitts, floor mat, and towels and took them to the laundry room. He looked at the tropical green patterns with a mournful sigh as he dumped them into a basket. Summer was over. Their Rottweiler had brought him the first yellow leaf to fall in their yard today, and thus it was undeniable that autumn was on its way.

Turning the house over for the season took two days, but Matthew enjoyed the busy work. All of the small linens – like the towels and pot holders – were swapped out four times a year: pink for spring, green for summer, red for fall, and blue for winter. Big things, like the dishes, welcome mats, curtains, and sheets were swapped out twice. Before he’d done the kitchen, Matthew had put the thicker flannel sheets and the down comforter on the Master bed upstairs. Good bye white linen sheets!

The houseboy had also gone through his Master’s clothes, adding thick socks to his underwear drawer and tucked cedar-scented sweaters in drawers underneath. Waterproof boots and slippers came out of storage and now waited by the garage door. Soon the canvas shoes and sandals would vanish until warmer weather.
About that time was also when the snowboard gear would come out of hiding. Matthew couldn’t wait for the season to start on the mountain!

There was also the actual house to work on too. Fall was when Matthew flushed the gunk out of the radiator, checked the dryer for clogged lint, and reversed the direction of the ceiling fans. Tomorrow, Matthew would be busy preparing their vegetable garden for winter – he was just waiting on a few more things to be ready to be picked. Gutters would have to be cleaned. The roof checked. While he was up there, Matthew would also note any breaking or sagging branches of the large elms and pines that flanked theier home. Last year there was a big one splitting off, and the arborist said it had maybe two weeks left on it.

There was also the cars…. Master’s sports car would be covered and the battery disconnected; out would come the larger and more snow-hardy jeep of which it was easier to wash off salt from the roads. And the back had to be packed with emergency gear in case of a road accent into a snowbank. So much to do, so much to do.

Fall was the best baking season though. Finally an excuse to use the kitchen all day long without breaking a sweat! Pies, Thanksgiving, Christmas cookies…. Matthew sighs softly. He can almost smell gingerbread. He opens the box of chai tea he put in the cupboard this morning and makes himself a cup. Master liked tropical fruit blends and light green teas in the warmer months. Now hojicha, chai, and black teas populated the shelf. Matthew preferred them anyway.

Matthew made his tea and tidied up. He stirred coconut milk into the steaming mug in his hands, nibbled banana bread, and surveyed the kitchen. It needed a few more decorations. Oh, he realized, he forgot to swap out his recipes. He shoved the bread into his mouth and set his tea on the counter to cool. He dug the box out from the pantry and sorted things out. Away went the recipes for zucchini, berries, stone fruit, and corn; and in their place went the recipes for squashes, root vegetables, oranges, pomegranates, and cranberries.

All in order, all in order. During his first years in this house, Matthew had to make a list to get everything done. Now he could do it from memory. He looked at the calendar on the wall. December would be their 5 year anniversary. Master was going to get a particularly nice Christmas gift this year – a trip to Beijing. Sir always wanted to see China.

Matthew smiled. Three years of saving. Worth it for what was surely going to be a great reaction. He hoped there’d be a 10th anniversary, then a 15th, a 25th, a 50th… god, he loved his Sir. He loved making his Sir happy and creating a proper home for him. Sir understood him, and knew what kind of environment Matthew needed to be happy. Matthew thought he was very lucky to have that.

He glanced at the clock on the wall again. Hm, if he hurried, he could make that brown sugar-glazed marshmallow sweet potato dish to go with tonight’s pork chop entree. The recipe was just out of finger’s reach now. Yes, Master would be very pleased with that. A content Master was often a horny Master too. What better reward would there be for his hard work than to christen those flannel sheets with lovemaking? Oh god, Master would taste like marshmallows and brown sugar too.

Matthew groaned and his cage felt tight. Yes, definitely making that for dessert.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

cosmicroo:

Outdoor time for puppy.

Spade sniffed the air. Autumn was coming. His backyard was starting to change. It had been a busy summer. There had been barbecues and soccer games, and many fun afternoons running through the sprinklers. Many evenings of romantic picnics on the deck and making love under the stars. 

Spade had also spent many-a-days marking the edges of the property as his territory, and it had been a part time job keeping the squirrels away from the bird feeder. At least, that mean fat raccoon hadn’t come back. The flowers were in full bloom and starting to fade, and Spade had learned to keep distance from them. He had gotten stung last month, and he’d been so itchy afterwards!

With his survey complete, Spade padded across the yard, tamped down a good spot, and rolled onto his back. The sun felt good, making the rubber nice and warm. Spade cherished it. He loved playing in piles of autumn leaves, but he always hated feeling the heat slowly leave the air. Although he did enjoy cuddling with his Master inside by the warm fire as snow fell outside, Spade would always be yearning to romp outside.

Spade a mental note to check for any remaining blackberries growing wild along the back fence – he’d eaten the bush clean last week – when he heard a noise. Spade perked up and uprighted himself. Was it…? He walked up to where the backyard rose upwards. Oh, there it was in the distance! The mail truck! Master was expecting a package!

Spade began to bark and ran up to the back porch, pressing his snout to the glass. Bark bark bark!
Master came out of the back room, looked at him through the glass, puzzled. Spade turned his head. The house was on a corner and he saw the mail truck drive past. Bark bark bark bark!
His Master opened the glass door. “Was is it boy?
Spade whined and wagged his tail.
"Mail truck here?”
Spade barked with a nod.
“Good boy. The guy always leaves me a missed-package note even though I’m right here.”

He closed the door, and Spade waited. He watched through the glass as his Master waited by the open front door, collected his package, and then closed it. His Master went to the kitchen and came to the backyard with something in his hand.

Spade wagged his tail hard. What was it?
Master slid the glass door open with a smile. “I got my package. Good boy. Sit.”
Spade planted his butt on the deck.
“Up!”
Spade sat back on his haunches and put both paws in the air.
His Master placed a bone shaped cookie on his nose.
“Good boy. Wait. Wait. Aaand, eat!”

Spade shook his face so the cookie fell. He landed on his paws and snapped the cookie off the deck with his teeth.

By the time, he was done eating it, Master had gone back inside. It really hit the spot. Spade looked out over the yard. He could see his tamped down spot from here. No need to let it go to waste. It was the proper time for a nap.

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Captions are fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

domdaddyissues:

Daddy always insisted that I do the housework on Saturday morning, even if I had been out the night before with friends and was suffering with a horrendous hangover. Daddy liked routine and this was part of it. Another part of the Saturday morning routine was the way that Daddy would sit reading his morning paper at the kitchen table, as he drank his coffee. His white robe would be open and he’d absentmindedly stroke his thick Daddy cock as I worked and he relaxed. He’d often shift his chair so he was facing whichever direction I was working. It never took long for my hangover to recede and be replaced by a deep hunger for my Daddy and his powerful cock, but I knew that I wouldn’t be rewarded until I’d been a good boy and completed the house work. I was bending over to wipe down the kitchen cupboards and suddenly felt daddy’s thighs against mine and his long soft uncut cock fitting into the length of my arse crack. Without moving my arse I turned my shoulders and head so I could look up at him.

He reached over me and opened a cupboard “Sorry buddy, just needed to get a glass” He had such a cheeky twinkle in his eye. I flexed my arse muscles and ground my body into his crotch. I consciously didn’t decide to do this, my body was just helpless to do anything else. 

He looked at me with his penetrating blue eyes and pressed a bit harder into me. “Son, you know the rule. Tell Daddy the rule.”

I sighed/groaned a little as I felt my cock throbbing hard as a rock. “Housework first….then play time with Daddy”

“Good boy, now carry on.” As he said this last bit he lightly spanked my right arse cheek a couple of times then walked away, holding my eyes until had sat down again, poured himself some orange juice and picked up his paper. 

I worked faster. 

Hope you enjoyed reading. If you did please reblog if that’s your thing and help my tales reach more horny Daddies and Sons.

Here’s a sexy little story that showed up on my dash.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

cosmicroo:

PupperRoo waiting for Boss to come homes from work and gives me Scritches

Ruffie was so nervous and excited waiting for his Master to come home that he thought he might pee himself when it finally happens. It wasn’t like he could get himself out of his rubber with his hands in mitts anyway, but Master would be really disappointed to come home and find that his puppy had made a mess. He wanted to be a good boy. Ruffie sighed and forced himself to lie down, and returned to chewing on his Master’s old leather sandal. 

He’d spent the day exploring his Master’s apartment and this was his new favorite thing. It was leather, the smell of which always made him horny, plus it had the scent of his Master’s feet and sweat, which made Ruffie yearn for the man who wasn’t here. He would be soon. Ruffie was not used to waiting hours and enjoying every second of it. He was still high off the reality of being ‘adopted’. It was a program run through his local dungeon where Masters can “check out” pups for short periods. Ruffie was thrilled when his Master had asked to “adopt” him over a three day weekend. Their sessions together made him fly and he always felt like whimpering when Master had to leave. Now they not only had a weekened together, but a long one at that. Friday through Monday. That meant Ruffie would get to greet his Master when he came home from work for one day.

Then, Ruffie heard a noise. A close noise. A noise of a key jostling in the keyhole. Ruffie jumped up to all fours and dropped the drooled on sandal. Ruffie sat by the door and wagged his butt so hard he nearly fell over.
“Ruuuufffiiiee is that you?” said the deep, velvety voice
Ruffie put his paws up on the door and responded.

“BARK BARK BARK!” came the excited reply.
Master chuckled. The lock turned. “Shh. You’ll alert the neigh-” He pushed the door open, not realizing Ruffie was sitting an inch from it on the other side, and hit him smack in the face.
Ruffie yelped out.
“Oh shit! Did I hit you? Aw shit, puppy! I’m so sorry!” Master Keene gently opened the rest of the door enough to squeeze in and quickly shut it behind him. His pup was sitting a short distance away, paws over his mask and whimpering loudly.
“Oh no, Ruffie, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were right behind the door! Are you ok?” Master Keene squatted next to his boy. “Shh it’s ok, let me see.” He felt absolutely horrible when he saw tears in his boy’s eyes – and even worse when he saw blood on the floor. “Oh my god, Rafael, what did I do to you?”   

Master Keene quickly worked the buckles and removed the mask. “Shit your nose is bleeding. Oh look at the red mark, I hit you right on the bridge here huh? God, I’m so sorry, boy.”
Ruffie sniffled and whined. To his surprise, the injury hadn’t taken him out of headspace at all. He licked Keene’s hand and whined. 
“It’s ok baby. Here, I’m going to get you a tissue and some ice.”

It took a few minutes to get the bleeding stopped, and even Master Keene had to laugh when he saw his pup with cotton sticking out of his nose. Master Keene made Ruffie chew a Tylenol and sit in his bed with ice on his nose for a few minutes while he cleaned off the mask and dried it.  

When the worse had passed, Master Keene put the mask back on, but not before getting a lot of licks.
“Some welcome home huh? I’m sorry I spoiled it.”
Ruffie barked and headbutted his Master’s shouder, indicating it was all ok.
Master Keene smiled and scritched Ruffie at the base of his spine. The pup groaned and flopped to the side, kicking his foot.
“Ok that’s adorable,” Master Keene noted. “You’re a good boy huh?”
“Arf!”
“Such a good boy, yesh you are.” 
“Arf arf!”
Master Keene gave his flank a few pats. “Did you miss me?”
Ruffie nodded.
“I missed you too. I couldn’t wait to come home to your cute face. It gets so lonely here on the weekends. Damn, we’re gonna have a lot of fun together. Speaking of which, I think you deserve a treat huh? As an apology for bonking you?”

Ruffie quickly forgot about the pain when he saw the big bag of brownie bites. He decided that he going to play the sympathy card and try to get away with as much as possible… he had a feeling the bites would disappear once Master Keene found the sandal. 

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Text is fictional. Source is above. 

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neweygn:

I need a houseboy to do my ironing. Don’t we all?

Hamal presses a cup of tea into his hand. “Come upstairs, I gotta finish the ironing.”
Dan nods and follows him, still trying to get used to the fact that his friend is a nudist. They go up the stairs and into the secondary bedroom, everything in pause from when Hamal went downstairs to greet Dan at the door.
“So how’s your brother?” Hamal asks, turning on the iron again.
“He’s doing a lot better, thankfully. Working out in the country has done more for him than any city rehab clinic did. Mom wants to see him for Christmas but we’re not sure bringing him back to Springfield is a good idea, cause it’s where all his drug contacts are. We might have Christmas in the country.”
“That actually sounds better than Springfield.”
Dan chuckles. “Yeah it does. I’m happy for him though. I hated seeing my Dad worry about him.”
“I hope he stays sober too. Are you still working for that accounting firm?”
“Yeah, I am. I am up for a promotion next year. I think I’ll get it, considering the last audit I did for a client turned up a couple hundred thousand in extra money.”
Hamal smiles. “Way to go, Dan! You must be their favorite person in the world right now.”
“Considering the bear hug their CFO gave me, I would say so.”
“You were always good with numbers.”
“Mhm.”

The conversation hit a dead end. The hiss of the iron and the sound of the metal plate swishing over fabric was the only noise in the room.

“What happened to you man?” Dan blurts out, watching Hamal iron.
“Excuse me?” Hamal replies, looking up from working on a shirt sleeve.
“You’re standing there, butt naked, ironing some guy’s workshirts in the middle of a Sunday afternoon like you’re his servant girl. What does he got on you to make you do this?”
Hamal sets the iron down with a bang, making Dan jump. “What does he got on me? William doesn’t have a thing on me. Are you implying he’s blackmailing me into doing his laundry?”
“Well, it’s the only explanation I can think of. You used to get higher grades in class than I did – you were like the top student in our engineer department. You could have been at JPL or Boeing by now, instead of…” Dan gestures. “This. What gives? Everyone wonders what happened to you after graduation.”

Hamal presses his lips together until they were a thin line. “You’re just like my parents. Ever since I was little, it was study study study study. Science camps in the summer, tutors in the fall, flashcards before bed. My father wanted me to be an engineer or a doctor or a lawyer. Those were the only choices they gave me. They sent me to a magnet high school. They never let me take an extracurricular that wasn’t somehow "good for me”. I never even owned my own soccer ball, Dan. You bet that I had very little choice over where to apply for college, or what program I applied to.“
"But you were good at it! You were good at numbers, and at math and science. You can’t blame your parents for trying to nurture that,” Dan counters.
“But no one ever asked me what I wanted!” Hamal nearly yells, pointing at himself. “No one EVER asked me if I wanted to be an engineer! If I wanted to spend my life stuck in a cubicle doing math and science for big faceless corporations. Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I have to have a career in it. I wanted to take home ec and learn how to bake. You know, once I tried to take a quilting class at the local YMCA but when my dad found the papers, he beat me and threatened to kick me out of the house.”
“….What?”
Hamal huffs. “Yeah, I know. It’s stupid. It’s ~gay~ or whatever you deem it to be. But I liked it. I like sewing, I like cooking. You know, fifty, sixty years ago, it was expected of a woman to do these things for her husband. We all just assumed they were all repressed now. My grandmother was a housewife. She loved being a housewife. You know, when we were downsizing her house before she died, we found this album of old photos. She was a tennis whiz. She won all these trophies. Could have easily gone pro. She chose to get pregnant and stay home…. and we all pitied her, you know, because we thought she sacrificed her career after an accidental pregnancy. She always insisted she got pregnant on purpose. When she was 90, and half senile, her home aid would find her in the kitchen at 3 am trying to bake apple tarts for her kids. She just wanted to be a mother and housewife, and no one could understand that.” Hamal continues ironing angrily. “I don’t see why a man can’t want the same thing.”

“….And that’s …what you want?” Dan asks slowly.
“Yes,” Hamal replies firmly. “I find it much more satisfying. I would go insane in a cubicle.”
“I just…” Dan puffs his cheeks and runs his fingers through his hair. “I just had no idea. It’s hard to fathom that what people consider tedious chores, you prefer over anything in the world.”
“But it’s not just chores,” Hamid explains patiently. “It’s because I do them for William. William was the first one who really understood me. I made him cookies once, when we started dating, and he thought it was awesome that I liked to bake. I did his laundry once and the look on his face told me he was thinking of marrying me right then. William loves his job in the DA’s office, and has no time for like, life stuff. He hates chores, cause he grew up in a family of eight. So the fact I anticipate what he needs and do it for him is hugely flattering. Makes him feel like a million dollars. I like that.” Hamal smiles.

“But …I mean…what comes after? I mean, this has to wear off sometime. Are you still going to be a houseboy when you’re 50?” Dan asks. “You’re gonna get bored.”
Hamal moves on to another shirt. “Don’t think I’m so simple, Dan. I tutor low-income kids struggling with math skills. I keep busy. I volunteer at animal shelters. William and are talking about fostering or adopting soon, so I’m dreaming of a house full of kids. Then after? Who knows. I’ll get a part time job until William retires, then we will travel the world together. We already travel a lot. We also go to the ballet, movies-”
“Kids? You never mentioned wanting kids.”
“I always wanted kids,” Hamal says, sounding a bit sad. “Just no one ever asked me what I wanted. Being a stay-at-home dad sounds so much fun.”

Dan looks at his old college friend sideways, trying to see the real Hamal instead of the one he thought he knew his entire life. “So you’re…really happy just…ironing? You’re happy being his houseboy? His, um, naked houseboy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Yes. And I like being naked. It’s comfortable. Plus, William likes it, and when he’s wound up the sex is amazing,” Hamal mutters.
Dan turns red.
Hamal smirks.
Dan sips his ignored tea and watches Hamal iron. “Well if that’s…what you want, then I’ll try and support that.”
Hamal’s face softens. “Thank you. That means so much to me Dan. I know it’s hard to comprehend, but thank you for at least trying. Also, when the kids arrive, I am totally making you babysit.”
“Hey!”
Hamal chuckles. “I’m just about done here, and I gotta get the towels off the line outside. But if you want to stick around…I am baking chocolate chip cookies afterwards.”
“…Chocolate chip cookies?” Dan perks up. “Any chance we could put peanut butter in them?”
“Oh, I think that is definitely doable. William loves peanut butter too.”

William comes home that afternoon and finds two cute boys making cookies in his kitchen. He nibbles one and wonders why on Earth more people didn’t have houseboys. He watches Dan and Hamal lick the beaters clean, and admired how happy they were. It is a relief for William to see that Hamal still has companions outside his own circle. It also makes William a little jealous though, and he smothers down his lust for Hamal in an apron for hours until Dan finally leaves after dinner.

William and Hamal don’t even make it to the stairs before the lust overwhelms them. Hamal still smells like cookies, and William devours him.

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Text is fictional. Long ranting houseboy story, ahoy. Also JPL stands for Jet Propulsion Laboratory.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

captionstojerkby:

He says it largely as a joke, to disarm guests who feel awkward about being waited on with such consummate dutifulness and respectful obedience, but he really does live to serve; his day job and his night hobby—well, his night job and his late-night hobby—are so similar as to be indistinguishable.

Okay, sure, you can distinguish them: he gets paid for one, not for the other, and the uniforms differ—while both dark black and with a preponderance of fastenings, one’s Italian silk, the other Italian leather.

But his job is one in which he’s required to answer every request with a “yes, sir” that isn’t merely deferential, but that implies that there was never any question as to whether his assent, his consent, would be given. It’s a job that requires him to care only about someone else’s needs, and wants, and desires, and never his own. It’s a job that requires him to stay silent and in the corner until his service is needed; it’s a job that requires him to prepare himself, to always look his best as he stands at attention.

And when he’s anticipated a man’s needs before a man even knew he had them, when he’s left that man sated, and happy, and relaxed, the feeling he gets when he’s given a gentle smile of thanks—thanks for his having done well, for his having been pleasing and having pleased—is exactly the same.

Yes.