Page 92 of Roguefinder

Jesse went to the dresser and returned with a black leather collar. He stopped in front of me, heavy dick hanging against his thigh, and showed me the metal tag. One word was stamped on the little golden disk.

HIS.

More blood rushed to my cock—a fucking whirlpool of it leaving me dizzy.

Jesse snapped the collar around my neck. “You couldn’t take your eyes off Blaine’s. I thought you might like one of your own.”

My face and dick were having a contest to see which one could burst into flames first. The leather against my throat was tight but not too tight. Not enough to choke me but snug enough to never let me forget it was there.

I looked fucking obscene in the mirror. Like a sub in some dungeon playroom. The collar nestled over my Adam’s apple, and the tag caught the light. The tail was just as shiny. My nipples were puckered tight. My ass clamped reflexively, muscle squeezing around the plug, which was so much firmer and unforgiving than a dick. I was bloated and full with it. Dunked in lust and dripping onto the carpet.

“You brought all this on the plane?” I asked.

Jesse smiled, one hand working his shaft. “I brought a lot of things.”

God, did he have a leash, too? I bit my tongue before I could open my fat mouth and give him ideas.

Jesse moved away and patted his thigh. “Come.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck. I crawled forward, and he kept moving, snapping his fingers like someone bringing their dog to heel.

“Wag it a little, honey. Show me how pretty you are.”

My face invented a new shade of red. I swiveled my hips as I crawled, and the tail swished behind me. The movement made the plug roll against my prostate, and I choked on my own spit, nearly face-planting into the carpet. My arms shook like I was trying to hold a blocking sled uphill in full pads.

But I wasn’t in pads or a uniform or anything. I was covered in humiliation, Jesse’s collar around my throat and his puppy tail swaying above my ass.

“That’s it,” he said, approval rich in his voice. “Such a good boy.”

He led me in a circuit around the room: past the bed, past the dresser, back toward the mirror. He walked a little too quickly, and I could never catch up. All by design, of course. Every few steps, he snapped his fingers, and another shot of blood rushed to my dick. It swung heavy between my legs, leaking a trail I’d have to clean up later. My knees burned against the carpet, and my breathing sounded like I’d just run the stadium stairs.

Every movement sent the plug grinding deeper, pleasure sliding thick and hot over my gland.

When we reached the mirror again, Jesse stopped and let me rest. I sat back on my heels, covered in sweat with my pulse thumping hard under the collar.

“Poor puppy,” Jesse said, not sounding the least bit sympathetic. “You still want my ass?”

My dick twitched. “Fuck, yes. I mean, sir. Yes, sir.”

He gestured to the bathroom. “Go fetch a towel.”

I knew better than to stand. But, fuck, it was a long way to the bathroom. I crawled there anyway, the tail waving above my ass and rubbing my prostate raw. In the bathroom, I tugged a towel from the bottom shelf with my teeth and returned to the bedroom.

Jesse lay propped against the pillows on the bed, one knee drawn up as he stroked his dick. He snapped his fingers. “Up.”

My mouth watered around the fabric pinched between my teeth. I clambered onto the bed and dropped the towel next to him, my ass resting on my knees. The mirror taunted me in the corner of my vision, showing the black tail curving to the small of my back.

“Good boy.” Jesse sat up and pushed his thumb into my mouth. “So fucking pretty.”

I sucked at the tip, but he pushed deeper, pressing down on my tongue until I gagged. He pulled out a little, and I breathed around his thumb.

“You’re perfect like this. I want to punish you for it.” He reached his free hand around my hip and pushed the tail up, setting off a lava flow of pleasure that made me moan around his thumb. I was fucking drooling with it, my ass and dick one giant, throbbing heartbeat.

His eyes went heavy-lidded as he caught the base of the tail and wagged it all slow and deliberate. The plug rolled against my prostate like he’d found a dial inside me and decided to play with the settings. Sparks showered down my thighs, and I whined around his thumb, hips jerking and making everything worse.

He kept doing it, cataloging every moan and twitch like he planned to publish his findings. “And you were being such a good boy. Now you can’t sit still.”

That wasn’t fair! I couldn’t say it with his thumb like a paper weight on my tongue. But I protested with a groan and another roll of my hips. Not exactly a winning counterargument.