Bangarang!

And with that, tumblr is dead. The staff has just found it easier to pull the plug on all adult content, thus ruining the lives of NSFW artists and sex positive groups like the puppy play community, instead of dealing with their own problems of child pornography and beastiality that they’ve been brushing aside for so long.

It’s been fun ya’ll. I just want to thank all the people I’ve talked to over tumblr and all the support over the years, it’s really helped me find my way and what I wanted for myself. I’ll try to hold out as long as possible, but you can find me on Twitter @GlitchyPup

🌸 so eager to learn your rules and commands or hand signs, so they do everything to learn and remember them really quick to satisfy you

🌸 the proud look on their face when they’ve just obeyed an order, and you know they really did it to please you, to earn that pat on their head or a gentle kiss on their mouth

🌸 “please, I want to be spanked, master”

🌸 that hectic, truly sorry apology when they did something they shouldn’t have

🌸 doing everything and anything to satisfy you

🌸 w o r s h i p

🌸 no need for training them in every session or even punish them at all because they really try to behave as well as they can

🌸 you can focus on more important things like helping them to endure more pain or difficult ideas

🌸 when they misbehave, you can enjoy that punishment so much and really let out your inner sadist because it just doesn’t happen as often

🌸 begging to be allowed to make you cum

🌸 begging to be allowed to cum themselves

🌸 “thank you so much for…”

🌸 doing the most humiliating things when you order them to, without any hesitation

🌸 rewarding them feels so good because you know they really, really want to be good and try their very hardest not to do anything to displease you

🌸 “Have I been naughty?” + a very honest look of discontentment on their face

🌸 you can literally reward them all the time because they’re so so so good

🌸 they love kneeling in front of you, it’s their greatest pleasure

🌸 the smile on their face when you give them a cute nickname (“yes, master, I’m good, I want to be good just for you”)

🌸 so fixated on you

Call me pathetic, in hushed tones, with love in your eyes, while you run your hands along my body until I shiver

Tease me for how little effort it takes to make me whimper, to make me small and obedient

Tell me I’m stupid, but I make up for it cuz I’m pretty

Make me beg and then tease me for how desperate I am

Tell me dumb boytoys like me don’t need to think, I just need to be soft and make pretty noises for you and grab your shirt and do what you say

I’m your boy, throw me on the bed and hold me down because you know I’m soft and weak and of course, if you told me not to move I’d lay still as long as you wanted

He was sitting on the beanbag chair beside me. There’s something about being a solid 6 inches above him, even in my slouched position, that makes my heart skip and wedge itself in my throat. The lights are dim. History made is displayed on the screen. And without realizing it, I had begun to stroke his head. It feels good on my hand, but I pull it away out of fear of being overbearing. He lets out a hushed whine and a grin sweeps over my lips as I resume stroking his head. I give the back of his neck a little squeeze and feel the rumble from his throat. I don’t realize I’m grinning until his eyes meet mine and I can see the shift. We aren’t called Switches for nothing.

It takes time for me sometimes, but for him, the switch from Sir to Boy is as simple as a Snap at times. His eyes meet mine and I can see it happen. And I know all of our talk today of what he’s gonna do to me later is out the fucking window. The ball is in my court, and Alpha wants to play fetch.

He laughs lightly as we leave, telling me how fucked up I’ve got him, and I laugh along. I know. It wasn’t my intention, believe me you. But it happened and there’s nothing to be done about it except get this boy home. He tries to regain his composure the whole ride. He’s fighting it and I can’t help but admire that. He’s scared. I was scared too. I was fucking terrified. And he has shown me how tenderly he holds that part of myself, time and time again. My most valuable, gentle, special part of myself that I was afraid to ever show again. He’s showing me his in glimpses. Previews. Small sections. Because he wants to let Him out. He wants to so badly but he’s so, so afraid. Just like I was. And still am sometimes. But what I’ve seen has been so beautiful, I want to see more. So, I decide as he laughs, almost in terror, at how fucked up I’ve got him on our drive home, that I’m gonna drop him in the most tender beautiful way I can.

Not long later, we arrive home and I begin to coax his s-side out. I kiss and bite and lick all of his favorite places to where I can see him float. And then, as he lays in front of me, eyes glazed over and mouth hanging adorably slack, I decide to clasp my day collar around his neck to keep him grounded. Something to keep him teathered to me while he floats out in space, like the oxygen line to an astronaut. And that’s when he yelped, the latch catching his throat. I quickly unclasped it, apologizing as we laughed, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, baby! Are you okay?!”, I ask, inspecting the purpling notch on his throat. “Yeah!”, he says, “But that snapped me out of headspace”, he admits. “Yeahh, me tooo”, I say, holding and kissing him and his neck. He suggests I try from behind, and the moment the clasp latches, the sharp snap ringing throughout the room, the switch was flipped.

The muscles in his body go limp and he crumbles into my lap. I adjust myself so I can hold him comfortably and I feel like I have settled into my bones. The shift in Us is astronomical and I effectively spend the next hour keeping this beautiful, near delirious, drooling mess of a boy as high and deep as I can.

I grab his hand and ask him to squeeze so I can make sure he’s still present. Slap, Slap, Slap, and his eyes roll and tongue lulls and the love I feel booming in my chest is comfortable. Its safe. I keep directing his eyes back to me and make him squeeze my hand whenever he lets out a slurred moan instead of an answer to my probing questions. At one point, he begs me to slap him again and I refuse in fear of dropping him too hard. Too fast. Too deep, too high, too open, too tore, too much, but he’s begging me with tears in his eyes and even I don’t have complete control of this needy, desperate, clawing boy.

I instruct him to give my hand a final firm squeeze or I won’t continue and his hand desperatelt clutches me. He’s shaking and won’t let go of my dominant arm, so I have to hush and sooth him into declinging himself from me. I can’t stop stroking his rosey cheeks I’ve been slapping, backhanding, grabbing, kissing, and staining. I wonder if this is what he sees when I am in similar predicaments, but his whimper rips me from my thoughts. “Drop me, Daddy”, he begs, and I can hear the rumble from my own chest. I position him and growl a final warning, telling him to “Hold on, baby”, and I smack him hard. I can see stars in his eyes and his world go dark, and I’ll be there when he can open his eyes again.

———————–

I’ve written this over the course of 4 days, with varying patience and impatience of my Sir. He turned on a Dave Matthews Band live concert and drummed along on my ass as he instructed me to write. Stress of life, time, and varying other circumstances have prevented me from finishing before now, but nearly all of that time has been spent with Daddy Doggo. Most of it was for us, spared in the sanctity of midnight smoke breaks, sobs and stolen “I love you"s, and bodies against bodies against bodies. Those moments are for us to share. But in the spirit of passion and difference, I share the perspective of the Puppy Dog with the floppity ears who sometimes likes to be called Daddy.

It absolutely does, because I do that Exact thing!

With bio dogs, you have to make yourself the Alpha of your Pack and that’s why they listen to you and respect you as the head of the house. While playing the Alpha dog with a handler partner, I take that concept and take it further with a D/S twist.

Dogs don’t speak so to maintain that authenticity, have a talk with your handler and ask them to be extra vocal about what they’re thinking. It really helps fuel the scene.

As an Alpha (human) Pup, I see my handler as a Beta and thus under me, so why would I listen to them? During a scene, they may try to command me and it ultimately ends with me pinning them, there is usually alot of biting, scratching and growling as my Handler doesn’t want to give in and be dominated by a Dog, but ultimately, I am more powerful and end up on top as the Dominant. 

Maybe a little story time…?