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Diesel (by Mr Foxy Paws)

'Tch, not much on television this evening, Frodo,' said Rupert, flicking through different stations. 'What shall we do? Any ideas?'

Frodo lifted his head up from Rupert's lap, and half shrugged. He was content simply nestling against the young lad's thighs, enjoying the heat of his master's body. Frodo's previous master, Malcolm, had moved abroad and Rupert had pounced at the chance to adopt him as a pet.

Trrrrring. Tring Tring Tring, rang the doorbell. Frodo pricked up his ears.

'Wonder who that might be?' said Rupert. 'Hey up, pup, move yourself.'

Frodo grudgingly stirred and then, once his master had left to answer the door, the young dog moved over and curled up in the warmth of the vacant spot the lad had left. He cocked an ear to listen.

'Wow, what's that you've got there?' he heard Rupert say.

Then he heard another voice, which sounded like Rupert's mate Roger, although he couldn't quite make out the words. Then he heard the front door shut, followed by footsteps.

'Frodo?' called Rupert, entering the sitting room. 'It's Roger. And he's brought a friend.'

Frodo sat up, attentive, just as Roger entered the room followed, on all fours, by a furry doberman pinscher.

'Hi Frodo,' waved Roger. 'I'd like you to meet Diesel,' he added, gesturing towards the dog behind him. 'Frodo, Diesel. Diesel, Frodo,' he introduced.

'Arf,' said Frodo.

'Ruff,' replied Diesel.

'Roger was just saying,' explained Rupert, 'that Diesel's pretty much a furry virgin. Well, pretty much a BDSM virgin too. To be honest,' - and here he did a stage whisper to the dalmatian - 'he might be a total virgin. Anyway,' he continued in a louder voice, 'when Roger told him that I had a furry living with me, Diesel wanted to meet you. In particular, he's keen to figure out whether he's a sub or dom.'

Frodo tilted his head, looking puzzled.

'Yeah, I know, you'd think he'd have an idea already,' admitted Rupert. 'But there aren't that many furries around here so I thought it would be good for you two to meet, anyways.'

Frodo jumped off the sofa and trotted over to Diesel. The two furries rubbed noses, a little warily.

'Maybe you could go and get some newspapers to put down on the sitting room floor, Frodo?' asked Rupert. 'There's more space down here than in the bedroom,' he explained to Diesel. The doberman nodded.

Frodo returned after a few minutes, moved a coffee table, and then spread half a dozen newspapers over the carpet. Next he sat on the papers, dead centre, back straight, looking at his master expectantly. Rupert walked over to Roger and they exchanged a few hushed words. 'Defur yourself, then go and join Frodo, Diesel,' said Roger. 'You too, Frodo; defur,' said Rupert.

Frodo took a surreptitious glance at Diesel; he was young, fit and well tanned.

The two furries stepped out of their suits. 'Mitts too,' chorused the young lads. The two dogs removed their mitts then sat, close but not touching, in the middle of the room. 'Heck, you might get a bit hot, you can strip altogether Frodo,' suggested Rupert. Frodo removed his furry head. 'You too, if you like, Diesel.'

Soon, both furries, Frodo and Diesel, were sitting naked on the newspapers spread over the centre of the living room. Their respective masters, Rupert and Roger, settled themselves on the sofa and whispered further.

'Your guest looks rather excited, Frodo,' said Rupert. Frodo looked up at his master, then sideways at his canine companion, and then - hesitatingly - he looked down. Diesel's cock was indeed standing proud. 'We should always be polite to our guests, Frodo,' added Rupert. Frodo nodded and shuffled around to face Diesel. 'Arf,' he said to the doberman. 'Arf!'

Diesel sat motionless.

'He wants you to stand up, boy,' said Roger. 'He's going to service you.'

Diesel blinked. 'Up, boy,' repeated Roger. Diesel stood up, and turned to Frodo who leaned forwards, reached up a paw, and took the larger dog's dick in his mouth. And sucked.

'What's it like to suck on a doberman?' asked Rupert.

'Arfrfrf,' mumbled Frodo, bobbing his head backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.

Diesel whimpered, tensed his legs, and shuddered. Frodo swallowed, two or three times.

'My, that was quick boy,' said Roger. The two dogs separated, Frodo wiping some cum from his mouth; the doberman had surpassed itself in terms of creamy canine soda. Indeed, the taste of doberman cock and cum took its effect, and Frodo's own member was now on full alert, a drop of precum peeping out from his puppy foreskin.

Rupert and Roger exchanged some more quiet words. 'Roger tells me that Diesel would like to try anal as well, Frodo, if you don't mind. There's a good boy.'

Frodo turned around, lowered his muzzle to the ground and raised his two proud butt cheeks into the air towards his doggy guest. 'Just a minute,' said Rupert, getting off the sofa and placing a folded-up newspaper in Frodo's maw. 'Oh, and you'll need this,' said Roger, 'tossing a tube of lube to Diesel.'

Diesel's dick had been immense; very long, and extremely large.

'Arf?' he barked, hesitantly, looking at his master.

'What's that?' asked Roger.

'He's nervous, that's all. Your doberman's got a big cock, bigger than he's used to. It's OK, pup,' Rupert said to Frodo, 'he'll lube you well.'

Frodo closed his eyes and lowered his muzzle to the ground again; he felt his butt cheeks being parted then flinched at a sudden application of cold lube around and into his tail hole. He waited. A finger, two fingers, three fingers massaged his rear doggy entrance, lubing it, preparing it. Frodo's own cock twitched, spattering little drops of precum across last week's news. Then came the familiar feel of cock-head probing his crack, finding his hole, pressing against his puckered sphincter, seeking entry. His master had been right; the doberman had lubed himself well and, after a final brief but firm push, he entered the dalmatian. 'Arrooo,' cried Frodo. 'Arrooo,' called Diesel, and began thrusting, slapping the subservient pup's creamy rump, resting his paws on the pup's hips, and now and again tugging at the pup's hair. And, all the time, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting.

'Ah, ah, ah, aroooo,' Diesel called, again, finally, after a couple of minutes, his pounding suddenly slowing, halting. This time, it was Frodo who called the response. 'Arooooo,' howled the dalmatian, his pup-hood forcefully firing its own creamy load; four or five shots flying over the scattered papers.

The doberman, panting heavily, leaned forward onto his submissive bottom, stroking the pup's butt cheeks.

Both young lads applauded from the sofa, as Diesel pulled himself out.

'That's a lot of juice your pup's got,' remarked Roger. 'He always impresses me.'

'Yeah, but it's so messy,' said Rupert. 'Frodo!' he called. 'Clean up the newspaper, there's a good pup.'

Frodo sat and looked around, spotting the half dozen damp patches where his cum had landed. Then he bent down and began licking; licking his still-warm salty cum, and the damp newspaper beneath it. The moist, soggy salty precum-flavoured newspaper. He pressed his tongue down, hard, and licked, hard, tearing the sheets. He began taking longer licks, starting inches before a creamy load, and continuing for inches afterwards, ripping up the paper, pulling his head back and tearing away strips; he found the smell of his cum, mixed with the paper, intoxicating, and - gathering some sheets in between his paws - he rolled over onto his back and held the sheets to his face, to his nose.

'Frodo! Frodo, we have guests. Bad pup! Bad dog! Now's not the time for your paper fetish!'

Frodo froze. He'd managed to rip up half the newspapers that had been on the floor and now torn fragments, some dry, some damp, lay strewn across the carpet.

'Bad dog!' continued Rupert. 'We'll discuss this behaviour later.'

Frodo hung his head and let a single, final strip of paper fall from his mouth.

'Wruff?' barked Diesel.

'What?' asked Roger.

'Wruff?' barked Diesel, hopping from foot to foot.

'What is it boy?' asked Roger.

'I think he needs a piss,' said Rupert. 'You're not very good with furries, are you, Roger?'

'I've never had owned one before,' said Roger.

'I can tell,' said Rupert.

'It's back where we came, by the front door, on the right as we came in,' said Roger.

Diesel started towards the door.

'Err, no,' said Rupert. 'Not if you want him properly trained?'

'What?' said Roger.

'Outside,' stressed Rupert.

'Err, outside, apparently, boy,' said Roger.

'Show him Frodo,' sighed Rupert.

Frodo trotted out of the sitting room, leading Diesel towards and then through the back door. Rupert and Roger followed.

Outside, Frodo lay down in the back yard and stretched himself out. Diesel sat down, stared at Frodo's strange behaviour, and then looked around for an outside lavatory. Roger walked up to his doberman and spoke in his ear. 'Wruff?' asked Diesel. 'Yes,' said Rupert. 'Wrufflly?' asked Diesel. 'Yes, really,' said Rupert.

Diesel trotted over to Frodo, positioned himself over the dalmatian's torso and facing the prone pup's head, cocked his leg and then pissed. Frodo closed his eyes and felt the strong yellow jet hit his chest and sting his face; the hot liquid running into his hair, streaming down his cheeks, wetting his lips, dribbling over his chin and down his neck. The doberman's bladder must have been full to bursting, as the golden shower rained down on Frodo for a couple of minutes. Then, finally, it dribbled to a halt; was followed by another brief spurt, then stopped altogether. 'Lick him dry, boy,' said Rupert.

Frodo got up on one elbow, reached out a paw and grabbed the doberman's cock. Sticking out his tongue, the pup licked and cleaned and dried Diesel's piss-flavoured dick. 'Good boy,' praised Roger.

'Want to see how it's really done?' asked Rupert.

'You mean...?' asked Roger.

'Alfie! Alfred, you awake?' called Rupert.

Alfred the Great Dane, who as usual had been dozing in his kennel, appeared at its entrance. Rupert walked over and unchained him, then beckoned him across to Frodo who was still lying on the ground. Alfie sniffed.

'You smell piss, Alfie?' asked Rupert.

Alfie barked.

'Does it make you want to go, Alfie?' asked Rupert.

Alfie barked again, twice, as if he understood his master.

Rupert patted the Great Dane's flank, who understood the message and and positioned himself over Frodo. The dalmatian pup looked up at the furry undercarriage above him, and then - just in time - closed his eyes as a fine jet of stinking Danish piss hit him full in the face. It smelt, it stank, and when the force of it propelled some between his lips, it tasted foul; fortunately the dog's bladder was almost empty and he was finished after barely ten seconds.

'Clean him too, boy. You can't show favouritism to a doberman over a Dane.'

Frodo lifted his head and Alfie, used to such treatment from his master Rupert, lowered himself down. Frodo took Alfred's meat in his mouth and licked it clean. Alfred started trying to hump the dalmatian beneath him.

'Alfred!' barked Rupert.

Alfred ignored his master; he'd not been serviced for a few days, and now his cock had found a warm, wet hole. He lowered himself further, his massive weight pinning Frodo to the ground, his cock in the pup's mouth, being thrust in and out, in and out.

'Grmmph,' grunted Frodo, feeling the hot knotting cock working his mouth like a piston.

'Grmmph, mmph,' he continued, until the Great Dane paused, thrust again, then, slowly, a second time, and a third time, before collapsing across Frodo. The dalmatian pup squirmed, rolling Alfie off his face.

'Good?' asked Rupert.

'Wuff,' replied Frodo weakly, licking his arms to try and take the taste away from his tongue.

'You need a drink,' said Rupert. 'And a bath.'

The two lads headed back indoors, followed by Diesel and Frodo. Alfie, heartily satisfied, returned to his kennel and back to sleep. 'You and Diesel go and prepare a bath for Frodo,' Rupert told Roger, 'while he has a quick drink.' Rupert pulled a tin of coke from the fridge, opened the tab and poured some into a bowl. Frodo lapped it eagerly, while his young lad master coaxed his butt and flanks. 'You're a good, good boy,' praised Rupert.

'Bath's ready,' Roger called some five minutes later. 'Off you go, upstairs, Frodo,' said Rupert. 'I need to clear up the mess you made in the sitting room.' Frodo trotted off towards the staircase and up into the bathroom.

'Hi, Frodo,' said Roger, holding his nose as the dalmatian entered the room. 'My, you do smell a bit. Dog piss, huh? Anyway, Diesel's going to clean you. I'll be just outside if either of you need me.'

Frodo looked at the doberman, who was standing on his hind paws and pointing at the bath. Frodo stepped into the warm water. Ah, thought the pup, What a luxury, warm water!

Frodo stood on all fours, amongst a sea of warm and twinkling shiny bubbles; Roger or Diesel had evidently found some of Rupert's bath salts. Diesel picked up a sponge, dipped it in the water, and began bathing the dalmatian. The large dog was gentle yet firm, and very thorough, giving Frodo's neck and behind his ears a particularly rigorous scrubbing. Then, when it came to Frodo's doggy jewels, the doberman gestured for the pup to stand up, and to put his puppy paws behind his head. Frodo did as he was told, and Diesel took a flannel, soaked it in the water, and pulled it back and forth between Frodo's legs and around his cock and balls, and up and down his crack, and hard around the rim of his puckered puppy anus. Then he dipped the flannel back into the bath, pulled back Frodo's foreskin, and scrubbed the pup's cock-head clean of any dry skin or dirt. Finally, 'Wuff!' said Diesel, indicating for Frodo to climb out of the bath. The pup obliged, standing dripping on a bath mat. Diesel lifted Frodo's front paws, which the young pup took to mean he should keep them held out at his sides, and nudged Frodo's hind paws further apart. Then, picking up a rough towel, Diesel pulled it rapidly back and forth, back and forth, across Frodo's wet-shiny body, drying him off. At the end, unable to resist, the doberman playfully flicked the damp towel at Frodo's precious rump. 'Wroof,' barked Frodo in surprise. Diesel smiled at him. Frodo smiled back.

'You done yet?' called Roger, from outside the door.

'Wuff,' barked Diesel in reply.

'Rupert's waiting downstairs,' said Roger. The two dogs left the bathroom and followed the young lad back down to the sitting room, where Rupert had tidied up the lounge and carpet. Frodo padded in last, on all fours, leaving a wet trail; neither of them had thought to dry his hind paws.

'Frodo! Frodo you're leaving behind wet paw prints on my nice clean carpet!' cried Rupert.

Frodo turned to look. One, two, three, four, five wet paw prints trailed behind him. He lifted up a hind paw and looked at it; it gleamed damply.

'Firstly you indulge your paper fetish in front of guests, and now you wander wet-pawed into the sitting room. I really do think you should be punished. And I know we've got guests, but Roger's a friend so that's OK; I think you should be punished now.'

'Wrfff,' said Frodo. He wanted to point out that Diesel had been drying him; that Diesel was equally to blame, if not totally to blame. But dog doesn't blame dog, so Frodo held his tongue.

'Go get the crop, boy,' ordered Rupert.

Frodo turned around and, very slowly, headed towards the door.

'Don't make me lose my patience, boy,' said Rupert. 'If you're not back in one minute, it'll be an extra swat for each second you're late.'

Frodo hurried off.

The pup returned fifty seconds later, dropping an old, worn riding crop at his master's feet. Rupert was holding a red rubber bone in his hand. 'Here,' he said. Frodo reached up and took the bone in his jaws.

'Roger?' asked Rupert.

'Diesel?' asked Roger.

'Wuff?' asked Diesel.

'A chance for you to try the crop,' explained Roger.

'Assume the position,' ordered Rupert. Frodo bent over.

Rupert whispered into Diesel's ear.

'Wruff! Wruff wrf wrufff,' said Diesel, holding the crop in front of Frodo.

Frodo lay down the bone, kissed the crop and bowed his head to it. He was well trained.

'Wuff,' said Diesel, satisfied. Then, with the leather tip of the crop, he nudged Frodo's thighs, encouraging the pup to spread his legs further. 'Wuff?' he asked. Was Frodo ready?

'Wruff,' Frodo barked that he was, and then picked the red bone up again.

Diesel let out six short barks, a count of the number of swats he'd been asked to give.

Frodo nodded in acceptance.

Diesel patted the dalmatian's perfect rump, lining up his shot, and then struck, hard.

'Wuff,' yelped Frodo, as best he could with the bone in his mouth.

'You don't indulge your paper fetish in front of guests,' said Rupert.

Diesel struck again.

'Wuff wuff,' yapped Frodo, trying not to drop the bone as he did so.

'Especially if you've already cum across half the paper,' added Rupert.

Diesel took a third short. Frodo's rump was beginning to sting.

'Wuff wuff wuff,' counted Frodo, from deep in his throat.

'And especially if your fetish involves shredding the paper into countless sodden cum-ridden bits,' said Rupert.

Diesel once again tapped Frodo's butt with the crop, checking his alignment. And then, swish!

'Wuff wuff wuff wuff,' Frodo managed to bark.

'What's more, you don't come into the sitting room with wet paws. Ever,' said Rupert.

Diesel delivered an exceptionally hard thwack landing a across both Frodo's cute glowing buttocks.

'Wuff wuff wuff wuff wuff,' called Frodo.

'Understood, pup?' asked Rupert.

Frodo nodded, and Diesel delivered his final stroke.

'Good boy,' said Rupert, sitting down by his pup, and taking the red rubber bone from his mouth. 'Good, good boy,' he said, ruffling Frodo's furry hair. 'You took your punishment well. You know I don't like doing that; we, myself, Roger and Diesel, we don't like having to punish you. And I know you won't do any of those bad things again, will you, boy?'

Frodo shook his head.

'And you know that the only reason I punish you, is because I love you, don't you?'

Frodo nodded.

'Good.' Rupert scritched the dalmatian playfully behind his ear. 'Atta boy.' He hugged his pup, then stood up.

'Say, Rupert?' called Roger.

'What?'

Roger stepped over to his friend and they exchanged a few hushed words. Rupert looked at the two dogs.

'Beg, both of you,' he said.

Frodo and Diesel each, in one movement, got up on their haunches, front arms held out with paws hanging down, knees slightly apart to expose their puppy and doggy cocks. They were both very, very hard.

'Evidently, Frodo likes being whipped,' remarked Roger.

'And equally evidently, Diesel likes giving out a taste of the crop,' added Rupert.

'So now they are ...' began Roger.

'... both very much ...' continued Rupert.

'... in need of ...' said Roger.

'... servicing,' they finished together.

'Frodo, on your back, boy,' said Rupert. Frodo obliged, lying down on the carpet.

'Diesel, on top,' said Roger. Diesel went and sat on Frodo's chest.

Roger slapped a hand to his face. Face paw! How dumb could a dog be? 'Sixty-nine,' he said.

Diesel formed an 'o' of understanding with his mouth, then shuffled around, his muzzle over Frodo's pup-hood, his doberman dick over Frodo's snout.

'Enjoy,' chorused Rupert and Roger, sitting back on the sofa, snuggled together, as they watched their two pets fellate to climax. Finally, to a round of applause and yelps of approval from their spectators, the two furries rolled apart; very hot, very breathless and very very contented.

'Boy, it's getting late,' remarked Rupert, checking his watch and yawning. 'It's time for Roger and I to go up to bed,' he said to the dogs. 'Come on, you two, you can sleep together in the kitchen.'

Rupert led the way out of the sitting-room, followed by his dalmatian, then Roger and Diesel.

'You reckon they'll be OK alone?' asked Roger.

'I think so,' said Rupert. 'All you need for a bit of discipline is to find a good alpha male,' he said, opening a drawer and removing a red leather collar, shiny chain leash and small black leather paddle.

'Frodo?' he called.

Frodo approached his master, and sat patiently as the collar was buckled around his neck.

'Diesel?' he called next.

Diesel approached Rupert and sat by Frodo.

'Here's his chain,' he said, putting the end of Frodo's leash in Diesel's mouth. 'And here's a paddle if he gets naughty,' he added, putting the leather paddle in one of Diesel's paws. 'I'm relying on you to...' Rupert paused, hunting for the right words. 'I'm relying on you to... take care of Frodo tonight. OK, both of you?'

Diesel and Frodo nodded.

'G'night then boys,' said Rupert, switching off the light as he and Roger left the kitchen.

Diesel gave Frodo's leash a gentle pull, and led him to a makeshift bed of newspapers in the corner. Diesel shuffled the papers to make a small nest, curled up inside it, then tugged Frodo closer towards him.

The two dogs, dom and sub, top and bottom, huggled together, thoughts of future yiffing on their mind.

Frodo murred.

The End.