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  • Writer's pictureScarlet Ivy


I'm a dog person. I like cats too and I prefer to cuddle a cat, you know, whenever they're in the mood, but I emotionally bond with dogs in a deeper way. Looking into their eyes....UGH *melt*. I have two at the moment. Bailey is My sweet and innocent soul - a black Lab, single handedly keeping My lesbian score tenuously at about C-. Wally is the pit of endless need for all things Frenchie: tv, lap time, snacks and generally potato-ing.

Soooooo, I have this ritual with both of them. At meal time, they know nothing good starts until they sit on the mat in front of their bowls. Once seated and only once seated, preparation begins. I pick up their bowls, wash them and then fill with food. Still, they are not allowed to eat. They must wait. They can lick their chops but they must wait. Next I fill the water dish, again washing it out first - they generate so much slobber and it just coats EVERYWHERE they put their snouts. Finally, they must break gaze with the food and look at Me. We make eye contact and I cannot help but smile. Something about this moment just fills my heart with love. Then I say the word.


Then the slorping and the crunching begins. I walk away and leave them to their meal Often, Bailey will come find Me after. I like to think she's saying thank you, but who knows.

Warning: My mental meandering gets real dirty from here out.

About a month ago, I noticed my boyfriend had taken notice of this ritual with shall we say, appreciation? It got me thinking. Why not experiment? Could he be trained in the same way? Would I look into his eyes and feel anything new? Here's what I have in mind.

I invite him for dinner, saying I have something special planned and NOT to eat before. I need him ravenous. We make the time something on the later side, 7:30 or 8:00. By that point, if he's followed my instructions, he should be properly motivated.

When he arrives, I'll still be dressed for work. Hair up. Skirt, stockings, heels, silk blouse, maybe the tie is undone. After all, I'll have the table set and a modest meal prepared. Nothing fancy mind you but he normally cooks so all in all I think he'll be excited. He should quickly begin to realize there is something amiss. There is only one place set at the table. One plate, one set of utensils and one chair. Also on the table, near My setting will be a collar and a leash. Next to the chair, on the floor, I'll have a small mat upon which is sewn the word PET. This is what I call him and he will KNOW, this is his place.

While I dine, I will give him instructions. He must strip down complete.y. He must go wash his hands and his face thoroughly in the downstairs bathroom. He must return when he's finished, show me his work, and then sit on the mat. When he's done all that I will place the collar around his neck and give him praise. GOOD BOY. The leash we leave for after I'm finished eating, which of course I do leisurely. I'm a fine fucking cook, if I do say so myself. In fact, I'm getting hungry just typing this. What should I make? Something simple. Lemon chicken with wilted spinach maybe...yep definitely hungry.

You might be thinking, next she'll have him clear the table and wash the dishes. Nope. I need those hands CLEAN dammit. Next, I ask him if he's ready for dinner. Of course, he is. He probably doesn't know if he's going to die of hunger or horny and I'm hoping for a little of both. I attach the leash to the collar and lead him upstairs. I'll kick off the heels, wiggle out of the skirt, one hand My panties off and crawl up onto the bed. The leash comes in useful here because I can use it to pull him close. Right where I want him. Close enough to smell my pussy but just out of tasting reach.

I know Me pretty well and it doesn't take more than a couple minutes to get Myself off, but I definitely draw this one out. I throw in pauses, more variety than I need, and lots of delicious noises to torment him. I'll be sure to taste what he is forbidden to taste. I'll ask him if he wants to help. Tell him I NEED his help to cum and every time he tries my foot his shove him back to his place.

At this point I'm torn. I'm going to genuinely WANT him to devour me, but I also LOVE denying him. I have a choice. I can send him home without dinner. So HOT. Or, I can give in to My desire and say the word.


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