Sadly Needed New Pitt Blog

when robby climbs to the eighth floor and discovers him, all he can see in the room is a pair of terrified blue eyes, cowering in a pitiful, sparse nest that barely seemed better than lying on the cold floor. from the position dennis is in, how he trembles, and the scared whimpers coming from his mouth... robby knows he's found a poor puppy in need of a home.

robby vows that his puppy, who withstood the unheated and dingy eighth floor for several months and almost starved, will be the most spoiled and pampered and loved of them all. a few months down the line, dennis now collared and owned and spoken for, the pup's life is very different.

he no longer has to bundle up in every clothing item he owns to keep warm, because robby's house is heated well. so well, in fact, that dennis likes to relax in his crate (because he had his very own *real* crate now) stark naked and drowsy. his one blanket had been replaced by five, and his singular pillow replaced by mounds of stuffed animals and soft things. they feel good against his bare skin.

he doesn't even have to leave his crate to eat if he doesn't want to- his owner will bring him snacks and milk and will hand feed him, dennis only having to open and close his mouth from where he lounged, protected by the metal bars from the harsh world outside. robby liked to feed him until he was nice and full, giving his puppy pleasing belly rubs from where he sat at the crate door, cooing as he feels dennis's tummy round out as he eats. the puppy would often drift off to sleep from these soothing gesturs.

puppy denny is never cold, or hungry, or scared again. not when his robby has given him his crate nest, and his bed nest, and free reign to snuggle and curl up wherever he desired. he was always fed long before his stomach could ever grumble in emptiness.

He listened as the student presented his findings, before he agreed and watched as the blonde practically ran away; watched as Whitaker placed his tablet on the nurses hub, before making a beeline for the staff bathroom.

Robby decided, fuck it. He had nothing better to do, and Jack, who wasn’t due in for a few more hours, hadn’t woken Robby with morning head like he usually does.

So fuck it; he followed Whitaker.

Robby pushed open the staff door, quickly closing it and, using the trashcan, blocked the handle from being pulled down.

Now no one can both us, Robby thought as he turned towards Whitaker, who had froze halfway through pushing his scrub bottoms down his legs. They stared at each other, Robby’s smirk growing as Dennis’s face grew redder, the seconds passing before Dennis finally looked away.

“C-can I help you, Dr. Robby?” His quiet voice echoing through the bathroom.

“I dunno kid, seems like I’m not the one who needs help.”

He pointedly looked towards the younger man’s wet crotch, cock soft behind a wet patch of pink briefs.

“Pink? I’m more of a black boxers kinda guy myself.” Robby’s smirk got mean. “But what else can I expect from such a pretty boy.”

The words had the effect he wanted; watching as Dennis’s eyes got a bit clouded, his cock nearly half hard. His breathing got more shallow, as if they knew he didn’t ask permission to do much as breath. And, most importantly, his hands fell limp to his sides, fingers slightly bent, wrists tucked neatly against his hips.

“W-what?” Dennis looked up, confused.

“Ah-ah-ah. I didn’t tell you to speak, puppy. Unless,” Robby took a step back. He had to bite back a smile at how Whitaker’s body subconsciously leaned towards the older man. “Unless, you don’t want this? Because I can leave you to it and we pretend it never happened.”

“No!” Dennis blurted out. He felt his face burn as he realized what happened. Instead, Dennis whimpers, bringing his hands up to his chest, wrists curled in, hoping Robby can understand.

And Robby does understand. “Oh good puppy. You can speak.”

“Please stay. Please help me clean up, daddy.”

Fuck.

He took four big steps before he was backing Dennis against the wall, pressing their lips together in a filthy kiss. Dennis moaned as Robby bit at his lips, licking inside with a hot, determined tongue. They stayed like that for a bit before they had to come back up for air, panting.

“As much as I hate it, I have to rush through this right now, baby. I’m going to clean you up, you’re going to change your scrubs and get back to work, and tonight?” Robby’s voice got rougher as he slowly kissed and sucked down Whitaker’s pale body. He got on his knees, grabbing the boys’ hips and looking up to see blown pupils, the blue barely visible.

“Tonight, I’ll take you home and fuck you into the mattress. Treat you like the puppy you are. That sound good baby?”

he meticulously plans dennis's kidnapping, and fills his house with all the necessary toys and gear to make his new puppy's life the best possible. he's prepared for dennis to fight back, to try and escape, to bite and scratch and scream, and he knows he'll just need to be patient- as soon as he gets denny collared and affixes that padlock to the buckle, he'll be well on his way to getting a sweet and docile pet. he'll be able to deal with the teething issues while he gets his puppy settled and used to being a possession.

however, it turns out so much easier than robby had ever expected. as soon as sweet dennis wakes up from his drugged state to find himself in a big soft bed with a leather dog collar locked around his neck and paw mitts on his hands, he relaxes. it feels good. when a tall, handsome man with caring eyes appears in the room and tells him in no uncertain terms that his life is not his own anymore, that he's going to be his pet and he'll make all his decisions for him, dennis cries.

he's crying out of sheer relief. this man (robby, or owner, or daddy, as he'd said) with the enormous cozy bed and soft sheets and money for tailored leather was going to own him. to feed him, and dress him, and leash him, and keep him warm and safe. when he was still a person out in the world (which denny could now refer to in the past, which sent tears of joy pouring out), he'd been worked to the bone in minimum wage jobs and gone home to an apartment with no heating, and he'd had almost no money for food. he'd been cold, and lonely and starving. he'd been permenantly exhausted. but now that was all over.

of all the things robby had been expecting, it wasn't for his new puppy to burst into *happy* tears and crawl towards where he sat on the edge of the bed to cuddle his way into his lap as he sobbed- but that was what had happened. his pet was snuggled up to him and babbling as he cried, an endless stream of "thank you, thank you, thank you daddy, thank you, love you daddy, love you..."

it made him angry to think about how hard his puppy's life mustve been before- but it didn't matter now. when he'd petted his boy and flicked at the padlock around his neck and told him it meant that the collar was never, ever coming off, and that he'd be daddy's boy forever and ever, dennis sobbed until he was red in the face, wrapping his paws and legs around his daddy like an octopus. he couldn't help it, it was exactly what he'd always dreamt of.

how they paw at each other, licking salt off each other’s necks before digging teeth into their jugulars. how trinity rubs her pussy on victoria’s thigh; how victoria sucks on trinity’s nipples. thinking about victoria’s broken whimpers (daddy— daddy feels good— trin feels good), about trinity’s choked sobs (wanna cum— mommy i wanna cum on vic—). thinking about baran’s quiet, “not yet, sweetheart,” about cassie’s, “show daddy how trin’s making you feel good.”

I love Langdon, but I also love bullying him

at first, baran just thought she was needy. young and eager and cocky, always horny, day and night. it was cute. baran always finds her cute, endearing. and she definitely doesn't mind making her girl feel good, taking her apart on tongue or fingers or strap.

soon, however, cracks started to show. trinity's cries and hiccups when baran fucked inside her seemed to be born less out of pleasure, more out of something deeper, raw and aching. she'd insist it was just the sex, but baran's perceptive— she could tell it wasn't.

it broke when baran started telling her no, not right now. at first it was disappointment. something trinity gritted her teeth through and muttered yeah, no, okay, that's fine. I get it. it turned desperate after the third and fourth rejections. turned into nuzzles under baran's jaw, murmurs of please? I can be good. I can make you feel good. don't have to do anything, I swear, just lay back?

baran cradling trinity's face, studying her with molten brown eyes, quiet concern. why can't you just lay with me, trinity? doesn't that sound good? just curl up with me and I'll hold you. not everything has to be sex, sweetheart.

and trinity doesn't know what to do with that. doesn't know how to just... be tender. be loved. loved without giving anything, loved without shedding her clothes. she slumps into baran's hold, buries her face in her neck, and cries.

and baran just holds her, cradles her like a child, pets slow and soothing over her hair, her back. shhh, it's okay. you're okay, you're alright, sweetheart. shh, shh, shh. you're okay. I'm right here.

baran makes sure to give trinity as much non sexual intimacy as possible after that. slow, sweet kisses that don't lead anywhere. dull scratches of her nails on trinity's scalp. skin to skin that doesn't initiate anything. just closeness, just comfort. tells trinity she's good, so good, her good, sweet girl. tells trinity she's good without having to "earn it."

Bratting by proxy if you will