If, as a pet, my first instinct when he walks into room, isn't to drop to my knees or rush to cover him in kisses and serve him with fearful tears in your eyes– then well, what's even the point of me? Master has liberated me from the stresses of life by snatching me away and stuffing me into his basement, by keeping me shackled to a post where I'll wait for him to come use me.
Even if i cry when he fucks me, plugs me up, abuses me like the whore I am, and the bruises seep into my skin while the cum leaks from my holes, I still look at him with adoration. his boot nudges my neck as he makes me clean it with my tongue, pinching it later when I stick it out to show i swallowed everything up like a good toy, while he smiles and smacks me hard and points to the spot missed, calls me a nasty whore and rubs my face to the ground with his hands fisting my hair… He's so mean, but I'll still always crawl to daddy whenever he visits and he always pats my head and lets me have his yummy cum into my pet bowl or right down my throat as my first meal of the day.
Oh and daddy's so kind that sometimes he even lets me go upstairs! My other home is the cage beneath his oak desk where it's my job to use my stupid brain and think of ways to make my daddy happy, whether it's turning so he can spank my ass when he gets frustrated, or even better, when he make me cockwarm him because then, daddy will pet me and ruffle my hair! Sometimes, though, he doesn't want to get up and soaks me in his piss… it's really yucky, but it makes daddy happy when I keep my lips open and when he's happy, he lets me wear the pink collar and use the dog bed in the corner of his room and not the basement post for the night!
Really, it is my job to spread my legs and trust him to do all the thinking and protecting. My only job and focus should be only him, his pleasure, his happiness and his wellbeing.
Pleasing daddy is very, very important to this pet!
gummygunk
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dailybridgerton
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