Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Well!” said Palamedes, slapping his knees and rising to his feet. “Shall we get to it, then?”

Gideon wiggled in her seat with poorly contained excitement. She and Harrow had come over to Camilla, Palamedes, and Dulcinea’s place, bearing rich and princely offerings of pizza. Dulcie had popped a bottle of wine (“I know it’s a worknight ’n’ all, but c’mon, let’s live a little!”) while Cam mixed an onion-and-chickpea salad (without commentary). Pal had taken Harrow and Gideon’s jackets, set the table, and generally fluttered around playing the solicitous host, as if they hadn’t had this standing twice-a-month hangout on the calendar for the last six months.

Gideon, of course, had housed three slices before most of the others had finished with their first, and was extremely chill and collected throughout the chattering, gossipy catch-up dinner conversation that followed. Her fingers beat a rhythmic tattoo on the base of her wineglass. She was so chill. She was frosty chill. She was the bear on the Icee machine. At Palamedes’ remark, she could hardly control herself anymore.

Harrow let a faint smile slip and squeezed her knee under the kitchen table. “We shall. I think my good boy is more than ready, Sextus.”

“I think she’s been ready,” observed Camilla.

Gideon colored and ducked her head, laughing along with everyone else. “Guilty! Guilty.”

Palamedes clucked his tongue. “Now, now, Camilla. That’s a lot of sass coming from a pup who’s ‘been ready’ all day herself!”

“Oh, Pal, don’t tease the poor girl,” cooed Dulcinea. “Cam’s just mouthy ‘cause she’s shy thinkin’ about being such a good girl for us in front of company. Ain’t that right, angel.”

Flushed and smiling, Cam rose from the table to clear the plates, leaving the others’ giggles in her wake. The rest of the company helped clean up dinner, while Dulcie collected her knitting bag and prepared to stand. As she got to her feet, tottering slightly, Cam appeared instantly at her side.

“Would you help me into the other room, darlin’? I think I left my crutches in there.”

Assisted with an arm over Cam’s shoulder, Dulcinea limped past the big couch to the sagging armchair at one end of the living room. Gideon followed them through. Dulcie’s forearm crutches were indeed propped up against the coffee table next to the chair. She settled into her spot with a pleased little purr. (Cam took a lingering kiss as payment. Dulcie recouped the cost with a finger hooked in the front of Camilla’s tank top and a word or two whispered in her ear, which made her bite her lip and blush a surprising pink.)

Joining them in the living room, Harrow opened her ever-present duffel bag, which had been deposited on the coffee table when they arrived, and began rummaging through it, murmuring to herself. She waved away Gideon’s offer to help. Pal and Cam moved through the house, calling out “Have you seen the…” and “It’s in the…” With nothing more to do, Gideon sat on the couch and looked around the living room at the jam-packed bookshelves lining the walls. World maps, album covers from bands she’d never heard of, and posters from sci-fi book series papered whatever bare space was left. Every time she came over to Chez Nerd, she noticed something new. Dulcinea was peering into her knitting bag, pulling out supplies. She caught Gideon staring and twinkled at her. Gideon blushed and looked away.

Finally, everyone was back in the living room, each with a tangle of gear. Cam made sure the blinds on the window were shut tight. Pal left for the kitchen to fill his water bottle. Harrow zipped her bag shut and set it aside, flicking her fingers in her habitual tic to relieve mental tension. Gideon’s chest was buzzing with nervous excitement. Dulcinea was freshening up her lipstick. At Gideon’s return glance, she gave a broad smile, just between the two of them, that brimmed with mischief and amusement.

As Palamedes crossed to the TV to put on music videos for background ambience, he bent over to lay a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. “Are you sure you won’t feel too left out, dearest?”

“Lord, no! No, no, no, y’all go on and have a good time,” Dulcie said, smiling up at him ingenuously. “I’ll just be tucked in the corner over here enjoyin’ the eye candy and workin’ on my project…”

From where she sat, Gideon couldn’t see exactly what “my project” was, but it seemed to involve at least a dozen wads of subtly colored wool and more steel knitting needles than Dulcie had hands. Femmes, Gideon reflected, were literally wizards.

Her attention was drawn back to Harrow, standing before her, with a snap of the fingers. At the sound, she slid down from the couch and settled into “sit pretty” posture, waiting for her next command. “Sit pretty” felt like her home base: kneeling and sitting back on her heels, knuckles resting on the ground, chest up and proud, head turned intently toward her lady. Even though it was an everyday posture—she probably knelt for Harrow at least three or four days a week—it always made her feel like a good boy, one that her lady could be proud of. When Harrow saw that she had Gideon’s attention, she tapped both index fingers to her chest and flicked them downward, their signal for “strip.”

Palamedes and Camilla were still chatting, Cam shucking out of her running shorts, Palamedes perched on the couch and sliding on a mouthwatering pair of mahogany-brown engineer boots. Harrow had worn her twelve-eyelet Docs over to the house; Gideon had blacked them herself only last week. As Gideon obeyed the signal by stripping out of her baggy shirt, slides, and basketball shorts at a rapid pace, Pal glanced over at the two of them with an approving eyebrow raise.

“You have one well-trained puppy there, Nonagesimus!”

Harrow acknowledged his compliment with a courteous nod. Her eyes remained fixed on Gideon. That was Gideon’s favorite part about serving her lady: whether they were playing or just spending time together, she was Harrow’s priority number one. All else faded into the background.

Gideon finished undressing and flung her clothes aside, and was about to take off her jockstrap too, but looked up at Harrow for approval. Harrow shook her head with the corner of a grin.

“I like how it makes your ass look, puppy.”

Gideon let her tongue loll in a playful bark and knelt back down. Cam was also naked and kneeling, and folding her underwear atop the neat pile of her outer clothing. Surprisingly enough, there was no pup hood for Cam in sight.

“All right,” said Palamedes, rising to his feet and catching Harrow’s eye. “Everyone ready?”

Harrow nodded. Gideon wuffed in agreement. Cam just sat patiently and looked up at him, gaze trained on his face.

The two tops, transformed into owners for the night, leaned over to reach in different directions: Harrow for Gideon’s orange-and-black neoprene pup hood, and Palamedes for Camilla’s collar and leash. Gideon was already wearing her collar, a short length of heavy matte-black chain padlocked shut at the hollow of her throat. It had become unimaginable not to feel its comforting weight around her neck upon waking and settling down to sleep. The padlock was also matte-black, engraved on the back with a single word: MINE. Harrow lifted the lock with the tip of a single finger and let it fall back onto Gideon’s sternum with a thump. Their eyes met, Harrow’s sparkling with warmth and anticipation, Gideon’s, she was sure, love-drunk already on Harrow’s look.

Gideon bent her neck as Harrow pulled the tight, muffling hood over her chin and forehead and tugged it down to the base of her skull. The constant snug pressure hugged her with a feeling of safety and calm. They had both had plenty of practice by now; Harrow was a pro, and Gideon hardly ever had to adjust it once it was pulled on, the way she had the first time at that party that seemed like forever ago. When Camilla had fixed it for her and put her through her paces.

“Are you ready to be a good dog for me?”

Palamedes’ voice was low and intimate, pitched so low that Gideon almost couldn’t hear. He had gripped Cam by the scruff of the neck and was fitting her collar on, a high-necked band made of thick tooled leather with a stag-and-forest design stamped on the surface. Pal snugged it around her throat just a bit too tight, murmuring in her ear all the while, then let the prong of the buckle sink into the punch hole so the tension eased back. At the feeling of tightness and at the click of the leash, Gideon could see Cam’s eyes flutter and grow dark. A light growl escaped her bared teeth.

Seeing her future playmate sinking down into headspace, Gideon thought back to when Harrow had first floated the idea. They had been lying in each other’s arms on the couch after a cozy, lazy afternoon spanking. Gideon was flopped sideways atop Harrow, who was tracing idle patterns on the nape of Gideon’s neck.

“My good boy.”

“Mmmm…?” Gideon burrowed deeper into Harrow’s armpit. Heavenly funky Harrow-working-up-a-sweat smell. She could huff it for hours.

“What do you think about playing with Camilla sometime?”

Gideon raised her head to meet Harrow’s dark eyes. Their gaze was friendly, but not teasing or joking.

“What do you think, my lady?”

“Well…” As she chose her words carefully, Harrow drew circles on Gideon’s skin. “Camilla is a pup as well. And she was an important guide to you in discovering that component of your identity. And out of anyone I know, I trust her and Sextus and Septimus the most.” She paused with a glitter in her eyes. “And no one can say she isn’t manifestly attractive.”

“Most of us would say ‘dime piece,’ but sure. ... Hmm. Playing with another pup.” Gideon stared into the distance as she considered, then glanced back. “Like… a playdate?”

“Exactly.” The corner of Harrow’s mouth ticked up. “A doggy playdate for my very good boy, so he can let off some steam and stretch his legs at the dog park.”

Gideon’s squirming moan as she buried her face in Harrow’s neck more or less answered that question for the both of them.

Now she was on all fours, hood snugly in place and collar heavy around her throat, Harrow petting her shoulders as she clipped their chain-and-leather leash onto the shank of her padlock. All of it together was drawing her down into that floaty, accepting, surrendering space where her rational mind receded and her body took over. Obedience and ownership and adoration, with Harrow holding her leash. Woof. She leaned into Harrow’s stroking hand and grumbled with pleasure.

Beside her where she knelt on the living-room carpet, Camilla and Palamedes were in a similar position: Cam, the pup, head down and panting, and Pal, the handler, doing something behind her hips and looking down at her with a kind of proprietary fondness Gideon had never seen on his face before. He leaned over to the pile of gear on the coffee table and grabbed something in grey silicone that looked, weirdly, as if a tapered dog tail and a buttplug had made sweet love and gotten stuck together, base to base. A bottle of lube sat near it on the table. Leash looped around his wrist, he squirted a dollop onto the tip of the toy and bent over Cam’s backside again. Gideon’s eyebrows rose behind her hood. She’d have to ask Pal to send her and Harrow the website where he bought it.

It took several long moments for him to gently work the toy into Camilla’s ass. By the time the tail plug was seated firmly and Pal had risen to his feet, Cam was squirming in her stance and making little excited noises. Her new tail bobbled from side to side with the twitching of her hips. Pal patted her carelessly on the head and turned to Harrow.

“Well, Harrow,” he said, pitching his voice with a thespian flair, “is it time for puppy inspection? Make sure these beasts of ours are in good health and fighting fit?”

“Certainly,” Harrow replied, awkwardly mimicking his manner. “One can’t let one’s dog loose at the park before making sure they’re in good condition.”

Both owners pulled their respective leashes taut at arm’s length, raising Gideon and Cam’s chins with the pressure on their throats. Gideon instinctively squared her posture and arched her back, whining softly.

“Goodness,” murmured Dulcinea from the armchair, “I feel like I’m watchin’ the national championship, you’re both lookin’ so handsome and proud.”

Gideon fidgeted on all fours with embarrassment. She had forgotten Dulcie was watching them. Harrow tweaked her nipple in admonition, raising a whimper that she quickly soothed with a caressing hand. Without slackening the leash, she knelt to run her free hand along Gideon’s body from head to toe. Her touch passed down the full lengths of each of Gideon’s arms and legs; felt the thickly bunched muscle in her shoulders, back, ass, and thighs; stroked along the curve of her spine and the dip of her breasts and belly; slid up between her labia, covered only by the thin cotton of her jockstrap pouch; wiggled into the muzzle of her hood to open her mouth and feel the matched curves of her top and bottom teeth. All the while, she raked an intense gaze over Gideon as if she really were a dog Harrow was evaluating for her new breeding program. Gideon shivered and momentarily closed her eyes.

Beside them, she could hear Pal murmuring, “Good dog. Good dog,” while Camilla gave a growling moan. Dulcie said softly, “Oh, goodness.”

Harrow broke the spell with a firm, loud smack to Gideon’s ass that made everyone jump. Rising to her feet, she announced over Gideon’s head, “My good boy is perfect in every way.”

Pal and Dulcie laughed. “Well, we already knew that,” Pal said, standing as well. “What a good puppy. Full marks all round, then.”

Cam was sitting pretty at his feet, staring at him with burning focus. Glancing down at her, Pal chuckled and took a small clicky device and a plastic snack bag from his pocket. At the sound of the click, Cam’s mouth dropped open, tongue lolling. She was vibrating from head to toe. Pal dropped a tiny corner of a treat from the plastic bag onto her waiting tongue.

“That’s for sitting so nicely,” he said. “Shake.” Click. Camilla snapped at the treat. “Good girl. Clockwise.” Click.

While Pal and Cam clicked away, Harrow unclipped the leash and patted her knees. “Come here, boy! Come give me kisses!”

Gideon leapt at her legs, almost knocking her to the ground, and smothered every part of her she could reach with her searching, nipping muzzle. Her lady let out a laughing oof and returned the affection by scritching and petting Gideon’s head as it butted into her chest. The caresses made a shuffling, echoing sound on the neoprene. Under the continued full-body assault of puppy kisses, Harrow dropped to her knees, drumming the carpet before her with both hands.

“Come on, silly puppy! Come on!”

They rolled together across the floor, Gideon’s heart bounding in her chest. Harrow’s wiry body was tiny beneath hers, but it held strong as a breakwater against her full-body leaps and wiggles. Harrow was laughing, still a rarity for her these days, and her dark eyes were shining. Gideon wanted to crawl into her lap and never leave.

Harrow shoved her off, breathing heavily, still giggling. “There’s my good boy,” she said. “Roll over! Roll over!”

Gideon swooped onto her back, hands and feet swimming in the air. Harrow dove for her stomach and drove her wild with rough, fast belly rubs that made her tingle from collarbone to jockstrap. Then she reached behind her to the pile of gear and dangled a frayed, knotted length of thick rope over Gideon’s face.

“Wait for it… stay… stay…” Gideon was trembling with tension. “Good boy… Okay, get it!”

Gideon lunged up. After a false start as the muzzle of her hood got in the way, she latched on with her molars and shook her end of the rope violently. Harrow tugged with a fraction of the force that she would use with a real dog, but Gideon yanked back and growled in delight. She wrenched herself upright with a huge full-body twist and dug in with both hands, backing and tugging as Harrow put up a good fight.

She heard Palamedes say, “Good dog. Go play with Gideon,” and the snick of a hook clasp, then she was tackled off all fours by a coiled force. She thrashed on her side and popped back up, panting, with Cam’s muscular shoulder bullying against hers. Harrow dropped the rope and eagerly retreated to the couch with Palamedes to watch the two pups meet.

They play-bowed at each other, wiggling, feinting, glowing eyes meeting. At some wordless signal, they both lunged forward. Their chests met with a thump, and they fell to the floor, grappling for dominance. Cam’s teeth closed on her flank, and Gideon yelped and dove for her thigh. The bite slipped and Cam’s jaws snapped shut on air as Gideon rolled away. Gideon shied back toward her, shoulder-first, and dashed away to pounce from another angle as soon as their sides made contact. Gideon had by far the advantage in weight and height, but Cam’s lean, speedy, twisting strength let her slip past Gideon’s body-checks again and again. As Camilla ducked to miss her charge, Gideon caught the flesh of her upper arm in her teeth. Camilla yipped in pain and lunged in a bite at Gideon’s face to force her to release her grip.

A small part of Gideon’s mind thought how strange it was to be roleplaying as a dog with another person, who was also pretending to be a dog—extremely convincingly, too—but that part was quiet and far away. Most of her was taken up by the heaving of her ribs, the swell of her clit at Camilla’s strong warm body writhing under her or rearing over her, the burn and stretch of her muscles from rug burn and play-wrestling and Camilla’s bites, the goofy, bounding forever joy that flooded her when she heard Harrow’s voice saying “Good boy.”

Gideon rested at bay for a minute, catching her breath, growling joyfully in between pants. Cam’s eyes were dark and hooded beneath her bangs. She let her head drop between her shoulders and stalked toward Gideon, shoulder blades rising in turn. Her snarl was low and unceasing. Gideon flopped on her back and bellied up toward her, wriggling and whining appealingly, all four paws in the air. She could hear their owners talking quietly, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Cam paused her approach, rumble still sounding, and sniffed at the trail of hair on Gideon’s naked belly. Her growl was cut off by a yelp as Gideon suddenly lunged up and caught her around the middle, rolling atop her to triumphantly body-slam her to the carpet. Harrow cheered for her pup, while Palamedes and Dulcinea gave mock-defeated groans.

Beads of sweat streaked down Cam’s sides, leaving a network of gleaming trails. Gideon followed one back to its source with her tongue, laving over her exposed nipple along the way. Pinned and whimpering, Cam squirmed with a feeble effort, but her struggles were futile. Gideon grr-ruffed with happiness and began giving her a tongue bath from neck to ribs. The muzzle of the hood was only slightly obstructive. Camilla’s dark thatch of body hair was deliciously fragrant with the sweat of her exertion, and she moaned and writhed like edible prey in Gideon’s mouth. With her tongue, Gideon could feel the surface of Cam’s skin rising into goosebumps as she licked and nipped at her salty flesh. Half-consciously, she started humping her thigh.

Dulcie tittered. “Well, well, well, who knew that our puppy would get along so well with a strange dog, Pal honey?”

Pal grinned. “Just you wait.” Harrow shot a perplexed look at him.

And sure enough, before Gideon knew what was happening, she felt a calf twining behind her knee, and she was thrown to the floor with an unceremonious whumph.

“Twelve years of judo!” Pal crowed. “That’s my girl!”

Cam’s legs were locked through hers, holding her down. One arm held her in a half nelson. Gideon really did try to fight—not the half-assed pretend struggles Camilla must have only done to mock her, but a real convulsive lunge with all her strength. The way she was pinned, it did jack shit. Now Camilla was the alpha dog. Her hips ground against Gideon’s, languid and powerful, and her growl rose into something feral. The sound sent juddering shivers all down Gideon’s spine. One side of Cam’s bob was flipped messily over her tilted head as she stared down at Gideon, which made her look like she was wearing her floppy ears inside out.

The room, filled a moment ago with the happy noise of scuffles and yips, now echoed with heavy panting in two registers. Only a sodden scrap of fabric, rapidly riding up Gideon’s thigh crease, separated their cunts from full fluid contact. Gideon whined and let her head fall back. She rode the rhythm of Camilla’s grinding, chasing the throb in her clit against the pressure of her pubic bone. If this was what being the runt of the pack was like, then sign her up every time, and twice on Sundays. Camilla relaxed the headlock a little to lean down and lightly close her teeth on Gideon’s windpipe. The rumble of her growl made Gideon swallow a whimper, her bobbing throat fragile between the threatening jaws. Her hips kicked against the grip of Cam’s slick-soaked thighs.

Palamedes whistled. Cam dropped the bite—her head shot up and flicked toward him. Out of doggish instinct, Gideon turned too. He was palming his bulge with a brilliant smile on his face.

“Good dog for winning! Good girl. Do you want a bone?”

As he spoke, he began unzipping his fly. Cam’s eyes zeroed in on this like a greyhound spotting a rabbit. She gave one short, sharp bark. Judging by the teeth she had just felt on her flesh, Gideon thought that expression must be the last thing any poor rabbit would ever see.

Pal patted his inner thigh with his free hand. His erection was leaking between his fingers as he slid his palm over the wet head. Camilla’s stare followed the drip. She was already disentangling herself from Gideon’s legs.

“Come and get it, puppy. Bring your friend and come get it.”

The music from the TV reverberated in Gideon’s ears with a grungy clash of electric guitar: So messed up, I want you here… And in my room I want you here… And now we’re gonna be—face to face… And I’ll lay right down in my favorite place…

Cam’s mouth was sliding up and down Palamedes’ cock with wet working throat noises. Guttural moans came from her chest, a vibration of muffled sound. She was naked except for the grey tail curving up over her back and the stiff, high-necked leather collar. Her hands were spread on Pal’s clothed thighs; her eyes were closed. Gideon felt shy to interrupt, but her hesitant glance at Harrow felt awkward and wrong too. Her lady made a pushing gesture and gave her a confiding smile. Go on, puppy. He said you could go with her. You’re my good boy.

Feeling self-conscious, Gideon crawled forward and nosed at Cam’s hindquarters. The coarse fluff of her pubic hair was only fluffy toward the front, on her mound. Around her opening, where she had ground her cunt on Gideon’s, where her swollen clit and inner labia were plump and kissable, it was matted down by her wetness. Gideon licked her lips and whined, and glanced again at Harrow.

Harrow smirked. “Sextus.”

Sextus, who was staring with slightly open mouth at the slide of Cam’s spit-thick lips and tongue around his shaft, said, “Huh?”

“I think my boy wants to acknowledge his subordinate place in this little pack.” With her chin, she indicated Gideon’s position behind Cam.

The sound Pal responded with could have been described as a thrilled chortle. Cam shot a side glance up at Harrow without taking her mouth off her treat, then shuffled her knees apart and canted her hips up even further with a pleading grunt. The tip of her tail almost touched her lower back.

“I think your boy has hit upon a fantastic idea,” said Pal, ruffling Cam’s hair. “Seems like this animal thinks so too.”

Harrow made the pushing motion again. “Go on, boy. Her owner said it’s okay.”

Gideon dove forward with an ecstatic whimper. The muzzle of her hood immediately smushed upward against the base of Camilla’s tail plug, but that ended up being convenient, after all, as that put it well out of the way for her mouth. Cam’s clit was just as stiff and swollen as it looked. As its hooded shaft slid between her lips, Gideon moaned with dizzy bliss. She started lipping it slowly and softly, but was very soon sucking in earnest, gentle, gentle, getting firmer minute by minute, but monotonous and unrelenting. The blood thumped in her cunt.

Cam didn’t lose focus from Gideon’s attentions, exactly, as far as Gideon could tell; she just made filthier noises. Pal moaned, “Oh, fuck,” in response, so obviously Gideon was doing something right. But it was like riding a bronco blindfolded with only your lips on the saddle. Cam’s hips squirmed and jerked against her face, practically bucking her clit free of the suction with every thrust despite Gideon’s blind, dutiful pursuit. She devoted her all for ninety more seconds and then gave up; Cam was just too damn twitchy.

Instead, she began to lave long, doglike licks from the base of Cam’s clit to the uppermost rim of her entrance, switching sides so the paintbrush flat of her tongue slid across her clit through different folds of her labia each time. It was easier to let Cam ride her face like this, at the pace she chose. Cam’s choked cries told her everything she needed to know about her new strategy. Her own saliva and Cam’s vinegar-sweet juices coated her chin.

Dulcie’s soft murmur only halfway reached her brain, which was drenched in pussy, pussy, Cam, Cam, Cam. “Damn, I’m startin’ to feel flustered, and I’m way over here. Your boy really does know how to use his tongue, Harrow.”

“He combines natural talent with a passionate drive for education,” Harrow’s voice responded. “I think my puppy would sleep with his face between my legs, if I would let him.”

It seemed as though Cam agreed with Harrow. Her flavor was changing in Gideon’s mouth and her hips had frozen trembling into place, as though to encourage Gideon onward in that one particular spot. As Gideon licked with all her heart and soul, she heard the tops of Cam’s feet drumming the floor. Her muffled, rapid whines reached a new pitch of urgency.

“Wait, she can’t—” Pal blurted, caught off guard— “I like to use it as reinforcement—”

Harrow called, “Stop! Gideon, stop.”

Gideon pulled her muzzle out of heaven and looked up anxiously. Cam was panting hard through her nostrils. Her back was curled into a C and she clenched Pal’s thighs with both hands.

“No, no, you’re a good boy,” explained Harrow hastily, “Cam was just about to come.”

Gideon blew out an annoyed breath. Well, yeah.

“We can’t let our puppy come without using it as an opportunity for positive reinforcement,” Palamedes explained. “We take discipline very seriously in this household.”

“So you know what that means,” Dulcinea chimed in.

Harrow and Gideon did not, in fact, know what that meant, but after a shared playful glance, Harrow said, “Do tell. I’m sure Gideon would be more than happy to assist.” Gideon barked and wagged.

Pal and Dulcie squealed in unison, “Orgasm contest!!!”

It only took a moment to set up the field of play and the terms of competition. Harrow and Palamedes sat side by side on the couch, boots square on the carpet. The pups had been re-leashed and were kneeling at their owners’ feet, both squirming and dripping with anticipation. “Whichever puppy can last longer humping their respective boot without achieving orgasm,” Palamedes intoned solemnly, “will be the victor of the night.” It was also agreed that, for the sake of equity, Gideon would be required to start two minutes before Camilla, since the latter had an unfair handicap due to how close she had come to orgasm on Gideon’s muzzle (Gideon preened a little and lolled her tongue out in a canine smile).

By mutual consent, Dulcinea was appointed as arbiter, moderator, and judge. She solemnly swore with her right hand raised that she would give no favor to Cam solely on account of their being girlfriends.

“Now don’t lose,” Pal told Cam mock-sternly. “I need bragging rights over Nonagesimus.” She rolled her eyes, making Pal jerk her leash in reproof. “Hey! No back-talk, you insubordinate beast.”

Despite the high color in her cheeks, the look Cam shot Gideon spoke plainly: I’m going to wipe the floor with your horny ass. Gideon growled at her impishly and began to scoot forward onto Harrow’s boot for her allotted two extra minutes, wriggling with excitement and need.

“No, no, boy.” Harrow’s hungry gaze arrested Gideon’s attention as she gave the signal for “lick,” two fingers slopped back and forth across the back of her hand, and pointed to her boot. “Get it wet first.”

Gideon wibbled with pleasure. She immediately backed and flopped onto her belly, the better to get her face into that gorgeous, mirror-black, shiny, stompy, sex-on-soles wonderland. If Harrow’s pussy was her happy place, Harrow’s boots were her submissive home. Her tongue swirled around the gleaming toe cap and streaked up toward the laces, in just the same stroke with which she had licked Camilla’s cunt drippingly clean. She let herself drool generously onto the leather, lubricating her future passage and expressing to her lady her heartfelt love and devotion, as unalloyed and uncomplicated as a dog’s, the best way she knew how. For a moment, she almost lost herself in that world: a world of gleaming stiffly molded leather, arch and sole and shank, explored by her lips and tongue as she made reverent worship.

A tug at her leash raised her head between Harrow’s knees. Her lady was staring ravenously down at her, brick-red and shaking slightly. Her free hand was flicking and clenching at her side. It was obvious that the only reason that hand wasn’t down her pants thirty seconds ago was that there were other people in the room. “Good… good boy. That’s. Ohhh, that’s enough for now.” It clearly wasn’t, and Gideon considered diving back down against orders, but she would never disobey. Anyway, they had other things to do at the moment. Gideon made a mental note to give her and her boots a thorough going-over this weekend.

Dulcie’s finger hovered over the stopwatch app on her phone. “Ready?” she asked. Harrow nodded. “Go!”

Gideon again scooted forward, clit throbbing anew at the trace of chemical boot-polish taste fresh in her mouth and the feeling of Harrow’s hand on her leash. At her contact with the boot, she groaned aloud. The jockstrap pouch, beyond soaked and well into wrecked, gave her pussy no protection whatsoever. Her clit slicked over the texture of every lump and bar of the laces and every eyelet and seam in the leather. Her hips drove forward of their own volition, rutting against her beloved boot, making her chain-link leash jingle and her padlocked collar thump against her breastbone. A rising, dumb, animal lust drove her few remaining thoughts from her head. After all that time with her face buried in Cam’s ass, clit aching for attention, she was finally gratifying her hunger.

The two minutes flew by far too quickly. Dulcie’s timer went off. Gideon rocked her hips a few more times, shook her head to clear it of the fume of arousal, and saw Cam already shuffling forward onto her own boot. Gideon was surprised to see that, instead of fixing Pal with the laser devotion of her stare as she had done previously, she was averting her eyes. Is she… embarrassed? Gideon, a happy-go-lucky fuckboy slut and Harrow’s impossible-to-humiliate bottom bitch no matter what, could not relate. She nipped at Cam’s shoulder and ruffed in her ear. Cam snapped aggressively at her, making Gideon jerk back, and buried her face in Pal’s lap.

Palamedes laughed at Gideon’s surprise. “Aww, you haven’t met a dog before who doesn’t like humping legs? Poor Cam-puppy is humiliated because of how much she likes it, so she pretends she hates it. Poor thing still doesn’t know how to handle her heats.”

A furious groan filtered up from Pal’s lap. “That won’t get you out of this contest, though,” he said, addressing her. “Gideon’s being a good dog and humping like she’s supposed to. I expect you to achieve excellence tonight.”

“I believe in our girl, Pal,” Dulcie announced. “She’s got the two-minute handicap and all. I think she can do it.” She somewhat undermined the nobility of this statement with an eyebrow motion that made Palamedes smile and mouth something back to her, his lips hidden behind his hand. At his feet, Camilla humped away. Her face gradually unburied itself from Pal’s lap and her head drooped over his knee, but her eyes were squeezed shut.

Harrow bent down to whisper against Gideon’s cheek. “That’s you, isn’t it? A dog in heat. You love humping my boot like you’re in heat, don’t you?”

Gideon whimpered and nodded, resting her head against Harrow’s. Close-cropped black mingled with scruffy, floppy red. Harrow wound the leash around her hand and drew it even tighter.

“I love it too, puppy. I want it. That’s my favorite place for you, at my feet, where you belong. Showing me how badly you want me. Because you’re all mine…” Her voice trailed off in Gideon’s hair, where she pressed needy kisses to Gideon’s temple and nuzzled and scented her, almost as if she were a dog herself.

Gideon had no idea how she was going to resist coming with Harrow’s lips on her skin. She clenched her fists in the loose fabric of Harrow’s black pants and gritted her teeth. She couldn’t stop or even slow her grinding by the rules of the game. But if she kept moving like that, and Harrow kept pulling her leash and kissing her and saying things to her…

A sound made her look over her shoulder.

Dulcie was crawling across the living room toward the couch, blue eyes intent on Camilla’s sweating, uncomposed face. Gideon’s eyes widened and she glanced up at Harrow, who had also noticed Dulcie, and who now wore a widening smirk. Harrow caught her concern and bent down to whisper into her ear, “You can do it, my good boy. Don’t pay attention to them. Keep going.” Gideon hugged her calf and rutted against her. Her tongue was lolling out of her mouth, and her thoughts were lolling out of her head again with it as she pumped her hips. Hot saliva strung down onto her naked chest.

Dulcie had settled down beside Cam and was petting down the arch of her back. “There’s my sweet girl,” she murmured in a soft, cosseting voice. “There’s my good dog. You’d better not come first or you’re in big fuckin’ trouble, puppy.”

Pal’s glance was flicking between the two of them. His fist was tight on Cam’s leash. At Dulcie’s angelic undertone, he yanked Cam’s collar a little higher up under her jaw and said gleefully, “She’s right, you know. I told you not to. Do you want the bad cane? Bad dogs get the bad cane.”

Camilla whimpered and cowered. Instead of slowing her hips, though, the threats only seemed to make her grind faster. Beneath her rising need to come, Gideon felt a glow of hope dawn inside her—she might actually win this thing. Go, Dulcie and Pal, you beautiful sickos, go!

“You can’t hide it from me, puppy,” continued Dulcie, poison honey dripping from her purr. “I can see how close you are. You probably got halfway there just from suckin’ his dick, didn’t you?” (Palamedes laughed.) “Nasty dog. No, don’t stop humping. I wanna see you struggle for it. Gideon got two whole minutes on that boot before you did. If you don’t beat her—! Don’t you do it. You look at me, sweetheart.”

Cam had tried to hide her face in Pal’s lap again, but Dulcie seized her hair and forced her head back. Cam’s breath hissed out through her clenched teeth. Staring at this, Gideon felt close to losing it herself; she couldn’t risk any wrong moves, not with both of them so close to the edge. Her hips slowed, clit twitching fatly on Harrow’s wet laces. Harrow was also staring, practically drooling, and palming her own nipple through her shirt.

With her free hand, Dulcie reached down to Cam’s tail and began lightly tugging at it, just enough to make it shift in her ass as she rode the boot. Camilla moaned and barked a single, despairing note at the ceiling. Both Pal and Dulcie were locked onto her reactions, burning with pleasure at her helpless gaze, which pleaded wordlessly with one then the other in turn, only her eyes moving. Dulcie laid a wet tongue kiss on Cam’s shoulder with a devilish glance up at Pal. A red smudge of lipstick remained where her mouth had been.

“You’re gonna come, aren’tcha,” she said into Cam’s ear, “even after he told you not to—” Camilla whined frantically and shook her head no— “Don’t you lie to me, you’re gonna come, bad dog, bad dog, come for me, you dirty fuckin’ puppy—”

And Cam howled, and came on Palamedes’ boot.

At that relief of tension, there was no way Gideon could hold back any longer. She sank into the pull of Harrow’s leash and pumped her hips for all she was worth, panting out moans at the drag-push-drag of her cunt on the leather. The bundle of excess chain from the taut leash clinked in Harrow’s fist.

Gideon’s breath came harshly through the choke of her chain collar and the rising tide within her. She gripped Harrow’s knee and begged up at her lady with her eyes, driven mindlessly to the edge of desperation. Her mouth released an unconscious high whine. Harrow’s eyes were black with lust.

“Come on, boy,” she urged in a low, hot growl. “You were so good for me. Come on, come on—you can do it. Come for me, baby boy. Come on my boot.”

So Gideon did, a swooning rush that melted her like wax from nose to tail, a wild lunge into filthy ecstasy, with Harrow’s grip tight on her leash.

✷ ✷ ✷

“I’m filing a complaint of sabotage,” Camilla said blearily from under a comforter on the living-room floor. Everyone laughed, and Gideon lobbed a pillow at her. All the gear had been taken off, the boots unlaced, the water thirstily gulped down, the futons dragged out, the blankets burritoed, and the five of them were snuggling up together in the classic post-play pillow pile (well, Harrow was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the futon with Gideon’s head in her lap, but that was practically snuggling by her standards for people who weren’t Gideon).

Dulcie, who was little spoon to Cam’s big, giggled and pulled Cam’s arm over her chest. “Come on, angel. I never said I wouldn’t hinder you, just that I wouldn’t help you. And you know you ended up havin’ more fun than if you’d won. Doesn’t it get old, winnin’ all the time?”

“Not really.”

Dulcie and Pal booed and razzed her, and Gideon joined them in the spirit of fellowship. Palamedes raised his voice over the din: “Not in Scrabble! Check the records! In one-on-one I beat you at least sixty-five percent…”

Harrow was combing her fingers through Gideon’s rumpled, sweaty hair. Even though she was looking down at Gideon’s face, her eyes were dreamy and far away. Gideon turned toward the caressing hand to close Harrow’s fingers between her teeth in a gentle love-bite. Harrow shook herself awake and withdrew her fingers, cupping Gideon’s cheek with a soft expression fonder and more tender than a smile.

Gideon nuzzled into her palm. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

Harrow looked down at her, considering. Her thumb pad traced the bow of Gideon’s lips. “… I never thought I would be fortunate enough to own someone like you.”

The three nerds they were friends with were still arguing around them. Palamedes cleared his throat, index finger raised. “Consider this, my dear: What fun is discipline if you can’t go off the leash once in a while?”

Cam leaned over Dulcie and licked Pal’s face, a big wet slurp from chin to eyebrow. Pal squawked, Harrow shocked everyone with her cackle, pillows flew, Gideon tackled Cam with a yawp, and that complaint was never filed after all.