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I make my wife's fantasy come true.
I looked at Master, who at that moment was applying the vibrator to Pipit's pussy. Fuck them, I thought. I shook my head.
"Very well," he said. He walked around behind me, poured a little lubricant into my crack, and spread it around. His fingers were strong and confident as he pushed the lubricant into my ass. The butt plug was big, and he pushed it in slowly and firmly. I sensed no shyness or hesitation in him: for now, at least, he was completely in control of me. Master didn't notice: he was holding the vibrator to one of Pipit's nipples, and she was squirming and moaning.
Christopher returned to stand in front of me, wiping the lubricant off his fingers with a handkerchief. I smiled up at him and tried wiggling my bottom to wag the tail. It felt good.
"There's a good dog," he said. "Now Sit!" He reached over my back and pushed my butt down. I sat.
"That's very good," he said, and patted my head. I jumped up to lick his hand, wagging my tail and pretending to be joyful.
"No, no," he said pleasantly. "Sit!" He pushed my butt down again.
On the bondage table, Master was squatting above Pipit's head and driving deep into her while she made theatrical choking noises, like a porn star.
"We'll have to practice that," Christopher said. "But I think we can move on." He stood next to me, held his hand in front of my face, and said, "Stay!" I wagged my tail, got up, and licked his hand.
"No," he said. "Sit, Famula!" I sat again.
"Very good," he said. Again he held his hand in front of my face and said, "Stay." This time I stayed seated for a few seconds. He walked away and I followed him.
"No, no," he said, took my leash, and led me back to where we'd started.
"Stay," he said, and walked away from me. I stared at the bondage table, where Pipit was crouching, ass high, while Master rolled on a condom.
"Good girl!" said Christopher, coming back. He patted my head, and I wagged my tail.
"It's getting late," said Christopher. "We'll take a little walk, and then it'll be time to call it a night."
He took me up the stairs; as we reached the top Pipit cried out behind us. Christopher walked me to the back of the house.
He said, "A good dog doesn't try to take the lead or fall behind. A good dog keeps up, head about even with Master's legs."
I tried to crawl beside him in exactly the right spot.
"To do it properly," he continued, "takes effort, and even initiative. But your effort and initiative have the ultimate goal of enabling you to move in harmony with your owner's will. This requires careful observation of your owner, and an understanding of his desires and motivations."
What was Christopher trying to tell me? I was too angry and confused to puzzle it out. We made several trips between the front and back of the house, my mind racing all the while.
We returned to the dungeon. I tried going down backwards this time, but decided bumping was better. Master and Pipit were talking together quietly - Master dressed again, Pipit still naked. Christopher cleared his throat, and Master nodded at him.
Christopher said, "It's very late, and a long way to East End Avenue. Why don't you spend the night here? I have a spare bedroom, and you'll have your own bathroom with everything you need."
Master said, "That's kind of you. We'll be glad to stay."
Pipit and I stayed in character and toiled up two flights of stairs as the men held our leashes - Christopher mine, and Master Pipit's.
In the upstairs hallway, near the bedroom where I'd left my clothes, the men stopped, and Pipit and I sat like dogs. I realized with surprise that I was still wearing my butt plug tail. Master said, "I'm sorry to end the game." He hesitated. "I wonder if it would be agreeable to everyone to extend our trade until morning. What do you say, Pipit?"
Pipit spoke up quickly. "It's all right with me," she said, "if it's all right with Master."
Master said, "Christopher?"
He said, "It's all right with me."
Conflicting feelings were running riot in me.