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9:30am, Sunday

I squint my eyes against the sharp light pouring through the kitchen window. Having spent most of the last 12 hours in darkness, it's quite excoriating. It takes me a few seconds to acclimatise and I forgive myself for hesitating.

Master is less forgiving as I feel a sharp tug on my collar. I move towards the motion, rounding the corner units and entering the room proper. My eyes widen as I spy one of our bondage benches placed in the centre with eight chairs surrounding it. I look up at my Master in bewilderment, but he just smiles back before patting the padded bench with his paw. I jump onto it, thoughts swirling over what he has in store for me.

"On your back, arms by your side," he says, a mischievous glint in his eye. I gulp, my tail wagging slowly as I respond to his command. It doesn't take me long until I am in the position he desires.

"Legs in the stirrups," he commands and again I acquiesce as I feel him adjusting the headrest upon which my head lies. Once everything is lined up, he looks down at me once more, his smile becoming a smirk as he thinks about what is to come.

I close my eyes, the fear of anticipation threatening to consume me. I don't know what he has planned, but I know I'll know soon enough. It's only a handful of seconds before I hear a painful squeaking sound followed by a heavy weight on my chest.

My eyes snap open and I look down as the first roll of cling film starts to be unfurled. I see fur flush against the plastic as it is wrapped around my body, becoming increasingly tight the more times it goes. I turn my head to my Master, but he is consumed in the motion, ensuring every inch of my torso is covered in film.

I feel the weight increasing in my chest as I focus my gaze upon the ceiling instead. I try not to panic despite knowing I'm trapped, instead admiring the cornicing that had been installed here before we had moved in. I then follow the swirls of the ceiling decoration, drifting into something of a daze. It's only Master's voice that breaks me out of it.

"There," he says as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. "I think that'll do."

I pull on my binds to confirm his assertion and he is pleased to discover that he was right all along. I try and move my arms, but again there's no movement, as I realise that I'm trapped in the middle of my own kitchen.

"Now," he says in the authoritative tone that always preludes his sadism. "You may have had your breakfast, but our friends will be hungry. The problem is our table isn't big enough."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Master reach into the cupboard and take out some jars.

"So, I thought how could I get a table that was big enough for everyone," he continues as he unscrews one of the lids and dips in a spoon. "And then it occurred to me..."

I hear a distinctive splat before feeling a slight flick on my chest. I look down as I see the second spoonful of jam hit my torso. This is followed by a third and a fourth before differing colours are added to the mix. Strawberry, raspberry, grape, apricot - my upper body soon represents a work of abstract art.

The honey and butter come next, followed by a stack of toast, which he perches right on my belly button. A second plate stacked high with pancakes is placed further up.

"Don't you dare drop that," he warns as I struggle to stay still, the weight making me feel uncomfortable.

I whimper.

"Oh, shut up. Count yourself lucky I'm not using you as a toast rack."

I instantly shut up, my tailhole clenching at the thought of hot crumpet betwixt its cheeks. Master takes a step back and looks down at his handiwork, his smile breaking into a grin.

"Right, I think that's you ready." he says. "I'll go and wake everyone up."

He moves to leave the kitchen, but suddenly stops.

"Oh wait," he says before bounding to the dungeon. Seconds later, he is back with a hood, which he fastens neatly over my head. He pulls the lacing tight as my world constricts further, before I hear him shuffling away into the living room.

I wait, the silence almost as suffocating as the mask I'm wearing. Five minutes become ten before I hear the sound of life in the distance. Then they come, with Master ahead of them, as I hear the sound of chairs scraping back on the hardwood floor.

"Good morning, everyone," Master says with all of the aplomb of a circus ringmaster. I wonder why considering these are our closest friends, but I guess we all like to act out our fantasies.

"Help yourself to some toast and a range of preserves. There's tea in the teapot while there is a coffee maker too. Unfortunately, though, we have run out of milk so you may have to improvise."

I gulp as I feel a slight twitching in my sheath. I hear laughing, but I don't know whether it's to the joke or my reaction. Dammit, why do I have to be so transparent.

Things descend into an orderly murmur as people help themselves to food, using knives to scrape the various condiments from my body. My stomach feels relieved as the weight upon it is slowly reduced, while my paranoia is sated by the decreased likelihood of dropping the plates. Despite this, I still urge my friends to eat quickly, if only to reduce any mess should I fail in my task.

Initially, I tried to pick up the conversations, but after only hearing snippets, I soon descend into my own world. I stare into the blackness of my hood and let my mind wander, relaxed and content in my role as a table.

It's only when I feel a light touch on my crotch that I am broken from my reverie. I instinctively look down but of course I cannot see anything, so I snap my head back onto the headrest defeated. I moan softly as the paw continues to stroke; my feelings of arousal kickstarted. I lie back and let it happen, the noises from my muzzle implying consent with my tail implying lust. I have no other option.

My cock rises out of its sheath, the cool air kissing it in a gentle embrace. A second paw comes down to meet it, which is met shortly afterwards by the unmistakable warmth of a muzzle. I don't know whose. I gulp again, enjoying the electricity that's starting to pulsate through my dick, as my friends wrap themselves around it like vines.

I surrender to the sensations as my cock strains ever harder. I can still hear chatter around the table, but it descends into background noise as all my thoughts are directed towards my loins. The muzzle bobs deeper, the tip of my cock hitting the back of his throat as I hear the slight wretch of his gag reflex working. This happens twice, thrice, before he hits the right angle.

Mercilessly, hungrily, I try and push my cock deeper, but the binds do their job of anchoring me to the table. In the distance, I hear the sound of a blender starting up, only realising as it gets closer that it's actually a wand. I gulp harder, preparing myself to succumb as it aims to dig for liquid silver.

My eyes roll back as I feel the warm caress of my friend's tongue slurping around my cock like a forbidden lollipop. Soft paws occasionally clamber around the base, forcing my knot to expand to meet them. Sensations collide as my friend keeps bobbing, the envelope of his warm muzzle in contrast to the cool area of the kitchen.

I want to push harder into him, but the restraints aren't relenting. I must be patient and wait for the gift that is coming. A small dapple of pre drips onto his tongue, which he laps up greedily as I feel a crescendo starting to rise.

Suddenly, there's a new pressure on my cock as the wand is applied, my friends holding it against me in replacement of their paws. I gurgle pleasantly and try and force my cock further onto it, hoping it will give me the release that I crave.

However, as soon as it arrives, it is cruelly taken away, as I hear a switch being flicked off somewhere in the distance.

"Now, now," my Master says, reprimanding our friends. "I don't think he's earned it yet."

I whimper softly, so close to my release yet being so denied.

"Do you dare to disagree, boy?" he says, moving his muzzle so close to my hood I can smell the jam on his breath. I shake my head vigorously, wondering how my friends will get the cream for their coffee.

"Good," he says, tapping my balls to remind me who's boss. "There was some milk in the fridge after all, so we no longer have need for our cute little creamer."

He strokes under my muzzle before hitting me in the bollocks once more. I flinch, whimpering louder.

He then removes the plates from my stomach and takes them over to the sink. I sigh in relief as I lie on the table, wondering what the rest of the morning will hold. I breathe softly, feeling my cock retreating with my arousal as I wonder when I will get my release.

My mind floats into nothingness for a while but two paws down my sides soon break the spell as I start to writhe on the table. I've never been particularly ticklish, but the cellophane around my torso magnifies the feeling, making me vulnerable and sensitive in equal measure. As soon as my friends see my plight, they all opt to join in, and numerous hands start working over my body.

I toss and turn trying to avoid them, but the plastic keeps me tight to the table. I fear butter and preserves are being scattered liberally on the floor, but if they are, no-one seems to care. I whimper in dissatisfaction, trying my best to dodge their advances, but they know they have me trapped and there's little I can do.

I adopt a new tactic and try and lie straight, but instinct is hard to fight. I try and lash out, but my hands are still pinned to my side. I kick my legs in disgust, but no-one's down there to feel my wrath, my friends knowing better than to tickle my foot paws when they're relatively free.

As the tickling continues, so does a feeling of sickness building in my stomach. I also feel my back being strained by the pressure it's under. Fear builds and yet still they keep coming, paws waltzing across my body as my whimpers and cries only seem to motivate them. I shake my head violently back and forth, hoping that will provide a clue, but my friends' giggles merely turn into laughter as their mirth at my predicament becomes infectious.

Despite all this, I feel my cock becoming rock hard again, betraying my mind and sense of futility. Why do I have to be so fucking transparent, I think for the second time today.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you boy?" my Master says as he casually flicks the end of my dick. I whimper something unintelligible in agreement, but it sounds somewhat half-hearted. Yet looking down he knows my body never lies and doesn't call off the hounds quite yet.

"Aww, I know you do," he says, flicking my cock again. This causes my body to tense up, amplifying the tickles. "Still, you can't have too much of a good thing I suppose."

He waits a few seconds, building the suspense, before shouting "Everybody stop!"

Suddenly the ants are no longer scuttling and I'm able to relax, my panting returning to breathing the longer I'm left. The feeling of relief washes over me as the pain in my stomach subsides, while I sense my friends leaving the kitchen and heading back to the living room.

I lie on the table for a short while, letting life happen around me. Master just leaves me there, letting me cool off. I soon hear the clinking of the washing up and the collecting of plates, while there is the familiar gurgle of the coffee machine on the counter too. In the other room, I hear the unmistakeable sound of air mattresses deflating as my friends prepare to head back to their homes.

As the world goes on, I look into the thick walls of my mask and contemplate my life as a service dog. I break into a smile as I consider my role, this becoming a grin when Master whispers "Good boy," into my ear.

I wait for him to release me, which is around fifteen minutes later. First, he delicately cuts through my cocoon with scissors, carefully avoiding the skin and the fur. Once the cellophane has been discarded, he moves my legs from the stirrups, letting them fall casually down at the end of the bench.

He then moves around behind me and shimmies his arms under my back, lifting me up into a sitting position. I sit patiently on the bench as he takes off my mask, my tail swishing gently under his strong paws. When he removes the shield, I see his face smiling back at me, before he gives me a kiss on the muzzle.

"Good boy," he says once again and my grin gets wider still. "Let's have a thirty-minute cool down before we start the next part of the day."

I look into his golden eyes and nod, my feelings of love for him overwhelming. His eyes reflect the same feeling back.