FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Roger (by Mr Foxy Paws)

'So your master's gone away, again?' asked Rupert.

'Wuff,' replied Frodo, lying comfortably on the sofa beside the young lad.

'Well, pup, we've got company tonight. Roger's coming round.'

And, at that very moment, Frodo heard the front door opening and footsteps approach.

'Hi, Roger,' called Rupert.

'Hi,' said Roger, entering the sitting room. 'Ah, this is the famous Frodo?' he said, spying the dalmatian pup. 'He's allowed on the sofa?' asked Roger.

'Yeah, he's quite well behaved. He's stayed overnight a few times now, when Malcolm goes away on business. Poor pup. The first time I had him, Malcolm left pages of notes and expected me to give him a full physical inspection, from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail. It was OK the first time, but - and don't tell Malcolm - we got a bit bored of it.'

'Wuff,' barked Frodo, in agreement.

'Come and sit down,' invited Rupert.

'Does he know lots of tricks?' asked Roger.

Rupert and Frodo exchanged a glance.

'You could say so,' said Rupert. He cocked an eye at the pup. 'Frodo?' Frodo nodded.

Rupert leaned back into the sofa, unzipped his flies and pulled out his cock. It was long, plump and rapidly hardening. Frodo sat up, on all fours, and lowered his head over the lad's cock. Roger watched, fascinated; although Frodo was evidently a furry, not a feral dog, the scene was incredibly erotic and Roger couldn't help but join in; he started stroking Frodo's flanks, and then his back, and the inside of his thighs, and around the pup's genitals. Then, Roger lifted Frodo's tail, revealing the puckered hole hidden beneath. He licked his lips, pushed out his tongue, and nuzzled his face into Frodo's tail hole. Frodo, already caught by surprise having his tail lifted, and expecting maybe to have his cock or balls cuffed, flinched with delight as he felt Roger's tongue rimming him. 'Ouch, careful boy,' cried Rupert. 'You've got sharp fangs.'

The threesome carried on for several minutes, before Rupert finally shot his load which the pup happily swallowed. Both young lads watched the dalmatian lick Rupert dry, the dog's long wet sloppy tongue wrapping itself around his master's cock-head.

Trrrrring. Tring tring.

'Door,' said Rupert.

'I'll get it,' said Roger. 'Frodo can finish licking you clean.'

Roger disappeared, Frodo sat back happily, and Rupert rezipped his flies. Then Roger returned carrying four large bags. 'You ordered a Chinese?' he asked. 'Yeah,' said Rupert. 'Now I know why I love you so much,' said Roger, smiling.

Rupert laid out an old sheet on the carpet, and the three of them - Roger, Rupert and Frodo - sat down on it. The lads unpacked the dishes while Frodo looked on. 'Go get your bowl, boy,' said Rupert. 'Arf!' said Frodo, happily, wagging his tail then disappearing to the kitchen, only to return moments later with two blue bowls. One had 'water' written on it and the other had 'gnosh'; both were covered with drawings of little white bones. Frodo dropped them at Rupert's feet.

'Here's some beer,' said Rupert, lifting a can from one bag, popping the seal and pouring some into Frodo's bowl. 'What do you fancy to eat?'

Frodo looked around at the dishes, then bent forward and sniffed them. He sat back and, with his mitted paw, pointed at four of the dishes. 'Good choice,' said Roger. Rupert took a spooned and scooped some of the contents into Frodo's dish. 'Hey, leave some for us, for me,' said Roger. 'Jealous?' asked Rupert. 'No!' said Roger. 'Well, maybe,' he added. But they all knew that Frodo's place was most definitely at the bottom of the household hierarchy.

Between the three of them, they finished all the beer and most of the food.

'I thought we could go for a drive this evening,' suggested Rupert.

Frodo perked up his ears, the perfect picture of attentiveness.

'Sounds good,' said Roger.

'So if you've quite finished,' said Rupert, to Frodo who was sticking his muzzle into various tin foil containers, in the hope of finding more food. 'If you've quite finished, boy, it's time to defur.'

Frodo looked up. Sometimes Rupert took him out furred, and sometimes not. He slipped off his suit.

'Gosh, you've got some hair down there, boy. Tch. Not shaving? You know I like you smooth.'

'Wuff,' said Frodo. He dropped his head, sad to have disappointed his master.

'Go get your wash pack, the one you leave here, boy, and bring it back down.'

'Wuff,' said Frodo, and trotted upstairs.

'Wow, he's some mutt,' said Roger. 'He let's you do anything?'

'Well I only ask him stuff that's reasonable, so, well, he's never refused yet.'

Frodo re-entered the sitting room, a small bag hanging from his maw. He dropped it at Rupert's feet. 'OK, boy, lie flat. Luckily we've paper down already. Then spread your little puppy legs. Roger,' he said to the other lad, 'you can help.'

Rupert unzipped the bag, took out a can of shaving cream, gently pushed the pup's legs a little farther apart, then sprayed the foam all around the pup's cock and balls. Next he took out a razor. 'Here's where you have to hold still, boy,' he warned. 'Unless you want to be neutered?' 'Wuff wuff,' Frodo shook his head. 'Right, Roger, can you just hold his cock up? Just grab the loose foreskin at the top, and pull it tight, upwards, and hold it steady.' Frodo felt the lad take his foreskin and lift it. 'Great,' said Rupert, and then Frodo felt the cold glide of the razor around his groin and thickening cock, working quickly and deftly, stroking along the grain of the puppy fur. 'Now, and this is more tricky, can you grab his ball-sac and kind of stretch it and hold it flat?'

'Wuff?' asked Frodo. 'Wuff. Wuff wuff.'

Rupert paused. 'Hmm. Maybe. Last time we had an accident, didn't we? And I guess that was my fault. OK, Roger, forget that. Let's leave his little puppy balls alone.' Rupert rummaged around in the bag and this time retrieved some hair clippers. 'Safety guard,' he said, pointing to a plastic attachment on the end. 'Only cuts to 1mm, but that will do,' he said, taking Frodo's puppy sac in one hand, pulling it flat, and running the trimmer over it. Frodo's cock rapidly hardened yet more, the vibrations and tickling teeth of the comb attachment flooding scrotum with electric pleasure. 'All done,' he said, wiping the dog's undercarriage with a spare napkin. Frodo sat up.

'Now then, it's a half-hour drive, boy, so I thought you might like a snack.' Rupert reached into the pocket of his jacket, which had been slung across an armchair, and produced a bone. It was creamy-yellow in colour, and about five inches long. 'I baked this myself,' he said proudly; partly to himself, and partly to Frodo and Roger. 'Fancy a bone?' asked Rupert.

'Arf,' said Frodo, tail wagging.

'Boner,' more like, said Roger.

'It's got some special ingredients, boy,' said Rupert. 'Can you guess what?'

Frodo shook his head.

'Remember Alfie?' he asked.

Frodo nodded: Alfie was Rupert's pet Great Dane.

'Alfie doesn't meet many girls,' said Rupert. 'So sometimes I help him.'

Frodo looked puzzled.

'And it's a shame to waste any dog spunk, isn't it?' he asked.

Frodo nodded, a little hesitantly.

'So, yesterday evening, we had some fun together, and I saved his Danish creamy pleasure juice, and added it to my mix for your bone. Here,' he said, tossing the bone to Roger. 'Make him beg for it.'

Roger caught the bone and held it above Frodo. The dalmatian pup looked up at it.

'Want the bone, boy?' asked Roger.

'Arf,' said Frodo, wagging his tail again.

'Beg for it, boy,' said Roger.

'Arf, Arf,' barked Frodo, sitting on his haunches, knees bent, puppy cock jutting out above his freshly shaven puppy balls, front paws sticking out with mitts flopping down. Frodo reached up for the bone, but Roger moved it higher. 'Wuff,' said the pup, a little upset.

'Don't tease,' said Rupert.

'Here, take it,' relented Rupert, lowering the bone to within Frodo's reach. The pup stretched his neck and took the bone in his maw.

Frodo held the prize tightly, proudly; it was his trophy. He clamped his teeth down, but it was more a bone for sucking and licking rather than biting and chewing, however it was perfectly sized for his mouth so that the twin-bulbed ends just emerged on either side of his lips. He started salivating, at the thought of Alfred's cum, but struggled to swallow, and little trails of drool trickled down his chin. Roger went to take the bone, thinking Frodo was having problems; Frodo growled, a deep growl from low in this throat.

'Frodo! Frodo that's not nice,' scolded Rupert. 'Be good, or -I- will take the bone from you, and you won't want that.'

Frodo dropped the bone on the floor and, with his snout, nudged it to Roger.

'Good boy,' said Rupert. 'Roger doesn't want it, he was only trying to help you. But good boy for offering it. Now all that remains is your cock muzzle.'

'Cock muzzle?' asked Roger.

'Yes. It's a long journey and, whilst he's mostly well behaved, I can't always trust Frodo in the back cage of the car. He likes to stroke himself. The only problem is, having his paws cuffed to his body, or even just cuffed together, isn't very safe in case we have an accident. So for journeys of any length, especially at night when I can't see him in the rear view mirror very well, we fit a cock muzzle. It's pretty much just a chastity device.'

Rupert duly buckled a small cock ring about Frodo's puppy member, slid the pup's cock into the stainless steel cock-muzzle, and clicked a tiny padlock into place. 'All done! Let's go,' he said.

*

'The woods will be shut, won't they?' asked Roger, as they approached the main gate.

'Yes, but there's a lay-by further along, and we can walk from there.' Rupert flicked the car's indicator and pulled up. 'There's a lovely clearing in the woods, about five minutes' walk from here, and there's a dirt track we can follow.' Rupert got out of the car, went around and opened the boot. Frodo hopped down.

'Time to swap muzzle for collar,' said Rupert, removing the pup's steel cock-muzzle. 'I brought your red collar, today,' said Rupert, fixing a thick red collar around the dog's neck, buckling it up, and sliding it back and forth a few times to check it was neither too tight nor too lose. 'And I bought us a new chain to try. I had this one ordered. It's quite a heavy chain, mind you, but we've only got a few minute's walk.' Rupert produced a chain leash; it was about three feet long, with a smartly bound six-inch looped leather handle. He attached it to Frodo's D-ring, and Frodo felt its weight pull at his collar. He truly felt like the obedient pup that he was, under his master's total control, subject to his every whim.

Frodo followed Rupert and Roger, although he knew the route by heart because he'd been taken there several times. When they arrived at the clearing, Frodo sat and patiently waited for instructions. 'Over by the stump,' said Rupert.

Frodo trotted over to the stump of an old oak tree, lying almost dead-centre in the clearing. It had been cut very low, barely a few inches above the ground, forming a rounded grass-free area of rough-hewn wood. A cool white moon shone down from overhead, and occasional woodland creatures made rustling noises around them. 'I'll just remove these,' said Rupert, removing Frodo's collar, mitts and furry head. 'Then we'll hook you up.' Frodo stood on all fours, over the stump, as Rupert bent down by his side and unzipped a hold-all that was rarely away from his side when out with Frodo. 'I think a two-foot chain should be enough, hey, pup?' He didn't wait for an answer, but refitted the cock ring to Frodo, attached one end of another short, heavy, chain to a clip on the cock ring, and then fixed the other end to a sturdy eyelet that had been screwed into the stump. The pair of them had used the clearing several times now and, on one occasion, for convenience, Rupert had taken his cordless drill and fixed up some discrete bondage rings in different places. Frodo, buck naked, on all fours, waited patiently; his cock and balls were held tightly and tethered to the ground below him, allowing only a few inches of movement before the chain would start tugging on his doggy genitals.

'Full moons always make me horny,' said Rupert, aloud but to himself. 'It must be the wolf in me, I guess.' Rupert looked up at the sky, and reached a hand down his trousers, searching out, holding and fondling his own growing cock. 'Very, very, horny,' he continued, undoing his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers, and dropping them to his ankles. Frodo eyed a massive bulge in Rupert's Y-fronts; a beast that was positively desperate to escape. Rupert slipped off his shoes, stepped out of his trousers, and walked over to Frodo. 'I've still got my Y-fronts on, boy,' he said. Frodo looked up at him.

'I can't face-fuck you with my Y-fronts on, boy,' he continued. Frodo looked up at him.

'Gee, sometimes I wonder if you're all that bright, pup. Me, Y-fronts. You, teeth. Y-fronts, teeth, off.'

Frodo leaned forwards, then winced at the sudden tug against his puppy sac; he'd forgotten about the tether. And so had Rupert. 'Sorry, boy, very sorry,' he apologised, and stepped closer. This time, Frodo reached out and took the elastic of Rupert's Y-fronts in his teeth; then, wriggling his head, he pulled them down to his master's knees. Rupert quickly stepped out of them. His cock had sprung up, a monster in the moonlight. Rupert held it down with one hand, and pointed it at Frodo's muzzle. 'Here, boy,' he said. Frodo leaned forwards and took the throbbing erect member deep into his throat.

'What about me?' called Roger, who had been sitting on a log and watching the scene unfold.

'You can suck me next,' said Rupert.

'Sod that,' said Roger, laughing and walking over to Frodo.

'Heck, he's cum already,' said Roger.

'What? No, surely not. You've not, have you Frodo?' he asked.

Frodo shook his head.

'His cock's dripping,' said Roger.

Rupert laughed. 'That'll be his precum, the randy messy pup. There's a condom in the back pocket of my trousers; best you put it on him.'

Roger picked up Rupert's jeans, patted the pockets and retrieved a small foil container. He opened it up, pulled out the rubber, and knelt beside Frodo whose cock was covered in creamy precum. Holding the rubber's teat in one hand, and pulling the pup's foreskin back a little further, Roger pressed the condom against Frodo's cock-head and rolled it all the way back to his balls. 'Sorted,' said Roger. 'You got any lube?' he asked Rupert.

'Lube? Why?'

Roger shrugged.

'Back pocket, other back pocket,' said Rupert.

Roger found the lube in Rupert's jeans, then went to stand behind Frodo. He dropped his pants and trousers around his ankles then squeezed a large helping of lube into one hand. Suddenly, Frodo felt the familiar touch of a hand sliding up and down his crack, in search of his tail hole, followed by a large application of cold lube, followed after that by a couple of fingers working his hole. He tensed, his hole tightening a little. Next, he felt the similar but slightly different sensation of a cock-head probing between his gorgeous puppy butt-cheeks; the cock-head was warm and smooth and thick and just a little pointed. He felt it inch past his hole, then backtrack, then fit snugly against his puckered little anus. 'OK, boy,' said Roger, and Frodo felt the intruding cock pressing against him, parting his little doggy hole, opening it up, wider, wider, until - like a rabbit down a hole - it slipped inside. Deep inside.

'You sorted?' called Rupert.

'Sorted,' said Roger.

Frodo, stark naked in the middle of the clearing, on all fours, his rigid cock and swollen balls tethered to an old tree stump, a tight rubber condom covering his leaking cock, a cool breeze stroking every inch of his body, began sucking Rupert's dick, just as he felt Roger's cock sliding back and forth in his doggy butt. A few thrusts later, the three of them were moving in perfect unison, perfect harmony. All around the clearing, green and golden woodland eyes twinkled in curiosity at the unfolding and unusual act of human-animal union.

*

'I'm coming ... coming ...' said Rupert, breathlessly. 'Me too, yeah,' said Roger, and together - like an ideal couple - both climaxed at the same time, and stepped panting away from Frodo. Frodo himself remained bent over, panting too, his condom full.

Rupert, recovering his breath, went over and patted Frodo on the head. 'Good boy. Well done. Very well done. That was a surprise, huh, having us both here?' Frodo nodded. Roger came over as well, stroking Frodo's back, and caressing his round butt cheeks. 'You came, then?' Roger asked Frodo. Frodo shook his head. Roger hunkered down and unpeeled the condom, holding it up to the light. 'No, that's all precum, I'd say,' said Rupert. 'Wow,' said Roger. 'But I think he should get to cum, don't you?' asked Roger.

Roger unbuckled the genital cuff and led Frodo over to a nearby tree. 'Wait there,' he said, then went back to his hold-all and retrieved some rope. 'Stand up against the tree, pup,' he said, and swiftly tied the pup to the old oak. He had two ropes, each with cuffs fitted at both ends. He attached the first rope to a front paw, ran it around the back of the tree, then hitched it to the other front paw; next he did the same for the pup's rear paws. Frodo stood still, his naked back and buttocks tied against the rough tree bark, his legs pulled apart, his doggy cock sticking out.

'Thirsty after that fucking?' he asked. Frodo nodded.

'Want a drink?' More nods.

'Open wide, boy,' he said. Frodo opened his mouth, and Rupert lifted the precum-filled condom, tilting it upside down, and running this thumb and forefinger along the rubber body, squeezing the doggy precum out of the main opening and onto Frodo's sticking-out tongue. Frodo swallowed. 'There's still more,' said Rupert. Frodo stuck his tongue out again, and Rupert squeezed the remaining doggy soda onto the pup's tongue. 'Swallow it all, boy,' said Rupert. Frodo swallowed and licked his lips. 'Arf,' he said happily.

'You've got me thirsty now, boy,' said Rupert, kneeling down and taking Frodo's hard cock in his mouth, working it with his tongue, bobbing his head back and forth, back and forth, taking the pup's member deep into his warm wet throat. 'Wuff?' said Frodo. Rupert pulled the dog's cock out of this mouth, in order to be able to speak. 'For heaven's sake, boy, yes, of course you've got permission to come. Gee.' Then he retook the dog's cock, slurping and sucking it faster and faster until he noticed Frodo tensing his legs and he felt the dog-cock harden and pulse; four, five, six shots of warm salty cum. Rupert swallowed.

'What about me?' asked Roger. 'How come you always go first?'

'Cum first, you mean,' asked Rupert.

'Whatever,' laughed Roger. 'My turn,' he said, kneeling before Frodo.

Frodo looked down; his cock was hanging limply between his legs.

'Frodo. Frodo, that's not a very friendly greeting,' said Roger.

'Wuff Wuffy,' apologised Frodo.

'I want you hard,' said Roger, standing up, standing right up close to Frodo, his face a few inches away from the dog's muzzle. 'I -' he said, taking Frodo's right teat and tweaking it '- want -' he reached up with his other hand, took the other teat between thumb and forefinger, squeezed and twisted it '- you -' he twisted both Frodo's strawberry dog-teats at the same time '- hard.' Roger was so close that Frodo could feel the heat streaming off his face. The young lad ripped off his shirt and stood, naked, in front of Frodo who looked up and down at the tanned body and toned muscles. 'I -' began Roger again, reaching down for Frodo's cock, but keeping his face barely an inch from Frodo's '- want -' he continued, beginning to stroke the canine cock '- you -' he said, increasing the speed of his strokes as the cock began to harden and straighten '- hard,' he concluded. Then, kneeling down, he briefly cupped the pup's balls in his hand, then took Frodo's cock in his mouth and sucked him to conclusion; a sucking that any industrial vacuum cleaner would be proud to call its own.

Rupert, who had been watching intently, came over to untie the pup.

'Shit, I need the loo,' said Roger. 'Too much beer.'

'They're locked at night,' said Rupert.

'Wuff?' asked Frodo.

'If you like,' said Rupert.

'What did he say?' asked Roger.

'If you need a loo, he said, maybe he can help.'

'You mean?'

Frodo rubbed his arms and legs a couple of times, where they'd got a little chafed from being fucked so hard against the tree, then lay himself down on the grass, front paws stretched out sideways, and rear legs spread as much as possible. Rupert and Roger walked over. 'Now that you mention it,' said Rupert, 'I could do with a piss as well.'

Both lads stood either side of the prone dog, held their cocks and pointed them downwards. Frodo closed his eyes, feeling the twin powerful jets of yellow heaven stinging his body; two warm-hot darts of burning acrid liquid; dual pleasure, hitting him in harmony. He breathed slowly, deeply, feeling the trails of wet human-piss working their way back and forth, over his genitals, over his chest, across his face; he felt warm streams running down his cheeks and into his ears, running over his chin and down his neck; he felt the rich liquor running over his legs and down his thighs, reminding him of days as an infant when he'd wet himself and his own urine had dribbled down his legs. Finally, after what must have been almost two minutes, both streams dwindled and died. Frodo opened his eyes. 'He doesn't swallow,' remarked Roger. 'Not yet,' said Rupert. 'And,' he added, 'you pissed on me, Roger.' 'What about me?' said Rupert, 'You're a fine one to talk.' Both lads looked at each other and laughed; standing either side of Frodo, and pissing on the compliant dog, they'd also pissed up each other's legs. 'Frodo, a little help, please.'

Frodo sat up and began licking Rupert's legs, enjoying the sweet combination of Rupert's sweaty flesh sprinkled lightly with Roger's piss. Then, once done, he turned his attention to Roger, and enjoyed a similar but slightly more tangy taste of Roger's hairy legs and Rupert's fine piss.

'OK, home time,' said Rupert. 'Via the toilets.'

'You said they were locked!' accused Roger.

'Woof!' echoed Frodo.

'They are, but there's an outside tap. Frodo needs a wash,' he explained.

*

Rupert gave Frodo a thorough washing, aided by Roger who held the pup, spreading his legs when required, pulling the dog's ears forward when Rupert needed to wash behind them, and lifting the dog's cock and balls for Rupert to gain the access he needed. Finally, around midnight, they made their way back to the car, and home.

*

All three arrived back at Rupert's house soon after half past midnight.

'We're knackered, Frodo,' said Rupert,' so we're off to bed. Roger's staying the night, so you sleep downstairs, OK?'

Frodo nodded.

'There's paper in the recycling bin. Plenty of it. Make yourself comfortable. Just no snaffling food, and definitely no wanking, all right, boy?'

'Wuff,' agreed Frodo.

Rupert and Roger left the kitchen and, soon after, Frodo heard their footsteps overhead. He opened a cupboard door and pulled out a large pile of papers, laying them neatly down in one corner of the kitchen. He curled up on the papers, gathering himself into a tight ball, his head tucked in towards his tummy. He'd enjoyed a terrific day. He was, very possibly, a little jealous of Rupert going to bed with Roger, but then again Frodo knew his place and was more than happy to have served two masters that evening. Restless from the wild thoughts running through his head, he rolled over onto his tummy, and stretched, feeling the smooth paper beneath his flattened cock. He wriggled, listening to the pleasantly comforting sound of the crumpled paper beneath him. He pushed himself forward a little, and then back, the foreskin of his trapped cock being pulled one way, and then the other. He wriggled sideways, rolling his pup-hood beneath him. Then he opened his mouth and, with large strokes of his tongue, he licked the page below his head. 'Amazing violin recital stuns crowd,' it said, although of course he had no idea what the words were let alone what they meant; only that the paper that happened to be at his head was one of the smoothest he'd tasted for a long time. He sniffed it deeply, inhaling, and began to dry-hump the pages below him. Then he reached for one corner of the paper - page thirty-three - licked his lips, pursed them against the sheet, closed them and drew the paper up into his mouth. He held one end of the paper down with a paw, and pulled. It tore. He leaned his head back a little further, tearing the paper more, until it came away. Working his lips and teeth, he started chewing, the paper becoming little moist balls in his wet puppy mouth. All this time, without realising, his hips, his groin, his puppy cock were thrusting. He chewed more, pulling the strip of paper further into his mouth, eating it, then dropped the soggy mess on the floor. He looked down, found the centre of a double-page spread, wet his lips, pursed them again and pulled at the paper, tearing off a larger chunk this time, continuing to roll his hips left and right, left and right, up and down, back and forth, up and down, back and forth, massaging his trapped cock, pulling the foreskin tight then letting it resettle. Idly, he picked up one torn piece of paper, scrunched it into a ball, and threw it across the kitchen. It skittered over the floor. He picked up another piece, bunched that up as well, and tried to hit the first one with it. Close, but he missed. And, all the time, subconsciously, his doggy hips were dry-fucking the sheets beneath him. He tore off another large piece of paper, crumpled it into a ball, then stuck it in his mouth, like a makeshift gag. He chewed on it, like a child's dummy, and - just below his nose - he could see the parts outside his mouth bobbing up and down, just the kind of thing he suspected a baby would see sucking on an artificial teat. He pushed the ball further into his mouth; now it was no longer a dummy, it was a ball gag. And his hips continued thrusting. He rolled onto his back, grabbed several more sheets, and covered his body with them; he closed his eyes and, with his paper gag still in place, started rubbing the sheets over his chest and nipples, then down between his legs; he started rubbing his cock and balls with the paper. His cock was now very hard, and the paper soon wrapped itself around his swollen dog-dick; he let several sheets fall away, until there was just one between his paw and his pup-hood. He tightened his grip, and started rubbing, his focus slowly straying from the newspaper to his puppy pleasure-giver. He began wanking, faster and faster, the sheet of paper flapping and rustling loudly, louder still, as Frodo increased his paw-action, faster, faster, faster.

'Frodo!'

Frodo froze. Then, slowly, very slowly, he turned around.

Rupert stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing a dark blue dressing-gown with bone motif on the breast pocket.

'What are you doing?'

Frodo looked over at the scrumpled balls he had thrown around the kitchen. He looked down at the torn and scattered sheets of newspaper surrounding him. He let go of his dick. And then, finally, he opened his mouth and let fall his sodden, chewed, self-made, paper ball-gag. A drop of precum plopped off his cock and splattered onto a half-completed crossword. Frodo hung his head and whimpered.

'It's no good being sorry now, boy. It's far too late. You know what this calls for?' Roger picked up a newspaper that had remained in one piece, and lay it on the table. Next he drew up a kitchen chair and sat down. He spread his legs slightly. 'Over the knee, boy,' he said. Frodo sat up and, head still bowed, walked to Rupert's feet. 'Up, over the knee.'

Frodo climbed over Rupert's knees; his rear paws on one side, his head the other. Automatically, the pup put his hands behind his head. Rupert shuffled in his seat, and nudged Frodo so that the pup's butt was well positioned to be swatted. Roger could feel the dog's cock hanging down between his legs, hardening and twitching. 'You're a bad, bad, boy,' he said. 'What are you?'

'Wu Wuf Wuf Wuff,' said Frodo.

Rupert stroked Frodo's butt cheeks; smooth, round and perfectly coloured, they presented themselves for their punishment and his pleasure. He reached down, found the pup's cock and balls, and squeezed them lightly so that the dog would remember who was master. Then he ran a fingernail up the pup's crack to his tail hole, and lightly scratched the rim of his pet's puckered anus. He felt Frodo twitch, and the dalmatian's cock stiffen further. He reached back and took the paper from the table, and rolled it up into a tight baton.

Smack!

Rupert brought the rolled newspaper down on Frodo's twin cheeks.

Smack!

The paper flexed, hitting both Frodo's vulnerable buns at the same time; exploding flat on impact, it allowed broad swats which soon turned the pup's creamy rump a delicate shade of pink.

Smack!

Frodo began to whine.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

'Rupert!'

Rupert and Frodo looked up. Roger stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing a dark green dressing-gown. 'What's been going on?' he asked, his eyes moving from spanker to spankee, and then around the rest of the kitchen covered with scrumpled and precum-spattered fragments of newspaper. 'I thought you were just coming down because you'd forgotten to leave out a fresh bowl of water.'

'I was,' replied Rupert. 'But then I found this,' he said, waving his arm around the kitchen.

'It's not fair that you should do all the spanking, though,' countered Roger. 'I thought we shared?'

'You're right, you're right,' conceded Rupert. 'Come on then, come and take my place.'

Roger eyed the rolled-up piece of newspaper. 'Don't you have anything better?'

'Such as?' asked Rupert.

'I thought you had a crop?'

'You fancy the crop?' he asked Roger.

'Why not?'

'Frodo,' said Rupert. 'Roger wants to use the crop.'

Frodo climbed off Rupert's lap, and hesitated.

'Don't make me go and get it, boy,' said Rupert. 'I'll count to three and if you've not gone by -'

Frodo padded out of the room into the hall, nudged his way into his master's office and retrieved the leather riding crop. He carried it back in his mouth, and dropped it at Roger's feet. The lad picked it up. 'Assume the position,' he said. Frodo bent over and raised his butt in the air.

'Wait a moment,' said Rupert, bending down and picking up one of the paper balls. 'Open wide, Frodo,' he said. Frodo opened his mouth, and Rupert squeezed in the paper. 'Something to bite on, and stop him howling and waking the neighbours,' he explained.

'Feel the crop,' said Roger, running it lightly up the inside of Frodo's thighs. The pup shivered. 'Love the crop,' said Roger, running it up the moist crack between Frodo's perfect butt cheeks. 'Kiss the crop,' said Roger, holding it under Frodo's nose, for him to kiss. 'Bow to the crop,' said Roger, and Frodo bowed his head. 'Feel the crop,' said Roger, and with a swift flick of the wrist and a lightening flash, he swished it against Frodo's already-rosy orbs. It smacked loudly against firm puppy rump; stinging sharply. Swish, swish, swish; Frodo recognised a practised spanker when he met one. Swish, swish.

'That should be enough,' said Rupert. 'His butt was already burning from the rolled newspaper.'

Roger lay the crop back down on the table, then stroked the pup's upturned rump. 'There, there,' he said. 'This always hurts us more than it hurts you.' He kissed each of Frodo's butt cheeks, one after the other. 'There, there, kiss it better. Kiss both of them better.'

*

Frodo remained in the middle of the kitchen; dejected, downcast and disappointed with himself. He'd done so well, and now he'd failed both his masters and they'd had to punish him. Rupert felt the sadness; it clawed at his heart.

'Hey boy,' he called. Frodo looked up, a tear weaving it's way down from one eye.

'Is newspaper really that good? To sleep on?'

Frodo snuffled back a tear. He nodded glumly.

'Hey, Roger,' said Rupert, and went over to whisper in his ear. The two held a brief conversation together; Frodo tried to hear, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Then, Roger took off his dressing gown, and draped it over the back of a chair. Rupert did the same. 'You'd better get back on your bed, boy,' said Rupert.

Frodo returned to his bed, now a scrumpled mass of torn paper and precum.

Roger went and sat down by his side, and stroked the back of his neck. 'Lie down, boy,' he cooed. Frodo lay back down. Rupert switched off the light, then made his way across the moonlit kitchen, and settled down on the paper too. The two lads snuggled up either side of Frodo.

'Rupert was going to make love to me tonight,' said Roger, casually.

'But we've decided we can't trust you down here alone,' explained Rupert.

The two lads snuggled closer to Frodo, one gently caressing the pup's cock, the other massaging a teat. Frodo wept another tear; suddenly hit by their boyish scents, the warmth of their bodies, the warmth of their love for each other and for him - this time he wept a tear of joy.

'I'm getting a bit horny now,' observed Rupert.

'Me too,' said Roger.

'Frodo, you've got two paws, boy,' said Rupert.

Frodo stretched out his paws, took tight hold of both his masters, and murred.

The End.