The Telemachus Story Archive

Well I'll be Dawged
Chapter 3 - Well I'll be Dawged
By Telemachus

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Butch struggled with the cuffs and rope, but he had been tied by an expert. Eventually he had to rest,lying in the dust and dirt of his own celler. Then he heard a noise upstairs, a floorboard creaking. He knew the one! Back of the house, by the kitchen. Another sound came. The kid hadn't left, he was exploring the house. Maybe he was stealing stuff? And there was nothing Butch could do about it.

After an age of listening to the occasional creak of a floorboard or a door Butch heard footsteps approach the front door. Now the kid was leaving, but no, instead of the front door opening the kid opened the cellar door and cam down the steps, he had dicthed the tee but was otherwise looking just as he did when he left.

At the bottom of the steps the kid approached Butch and lifted his ankles up forcing Butch to lie on his back, his cuffed hands pressed painfully into his flesh. The kid untied the rope around his ankles, pulled off his boots and the loose leather jeans, then retied the rope, leaving enough slack to let Butch stand and shuffle about, no more. He then returned to the table and picked up a black spiked collar and dog lead. Butch just stared, his mind no longer working.

The kid deftly fastened the collar around Butch's neck and attached the lead. As he yanked on the lead Butch yelped an involuntary MMPH. He had used the collar and lead himself on some of his fuck-toys in the past, always laughing at their discomfort. But he wasn't laughing now.

The kid headed for the stairs, Butch shuffled along behind, the loosened rope around his ankles gave him just enough freedom to stay behind his new master. Upstairs the kid led him to the kitchen. Two dog bowls were laid out on the floor, one with water, the other with the contents of a can of meatballs from Butch's own cupboard. Butch hadn't used the bowls in years, he had almost forgotten that he still had them. An old blanket lay next to the back door. The kid tied the lead to the back door handle, Butch could reach the blanket and the bowls, but nothing else.

"Well Dawg, you can git some rest now" said the kid, his voice a southern drawl. "Food, water and somewhere to sleep. I expect you to keep quiet now, unless we get us some burglars o'course" he snickered at his own humour then left, climbing the stairs to the main bedroom.

Butch looked around. With his wrists firmly cuffed he had no choice but do what the kid said. Suddenly aware of an aching thirst, he lapped up some of the water then settled down on the blanket and, after a while, he fell asleep.


Butch dreamed.

The kid was firmly bound and gagged, resting on his knees in the cellar before the big leather clad Daddy called Butch. He was staring placidly at the floor, no fear, no concern, just waiting patiently for Butch to move. But Butch couldn't move. He tried to slap the kid, to grab a whip and flay his back, to thrust his dick into the kids mouth. But he just couldn't move.

The kid calmly got up, his cuffs and ropes just falling away. He took the gag from his mouth and he seemed to get bigger and bigger as he walked towards Butch.

"You're mine now Dawg!" he whispered, his face just inches away from Butch's own. And still Butch couldn't move. He tried to wriggle, to twist, to fall, but nothing, nothing, nothing...

And he woke up. He was still on the blanket, still cuffed and tied. And now he was drenched in sweat.


The next morning came, some sunlight streamed briefly into the kitchen then faded as a gentle rain started to fall. Butch lapped up more of the water and took a bite of the cold meatballs. After a while the sound of a shower then some creaking on the stairs announced the arrival of the kid.

"Mornin' Dawg" drawled the kid as he prepared himself some cereal. "No burglars then?"

After finishing his cereal the kid looked out of the window, "Rain huh? Good, we need to clean you up some anyway." He untied the dog-lead and opened the back door pulling a reluctant Butch out into the yard. A hose attached to a standpipe was at hand and the kid took it, turned it on, and hosed down Butch there and then, washing away the jism from last nights session. Butch MPH'd as the sting of the freezing water hit him. His black body hair hanging limp as the jet of water cleansed him. It was lucky that no neighbours overlooked the yard as he was now totally nude apart from the collar, cuffs, rope and gag.

The kid turned off the hose and led Butch back into the kitchen, "Now Dawg, you jus' stay put until you dry. Y'hear?" Butch settled back onto the blanket and waited. Eventually he dried.

That evening the kid led his dog down to the basement and gave him another sex session that left him gagging for more.

And so it continued, day in and day out. As time progressed the kid allowed Butch more and more freedom until eventually he had no restrictions at all, apart from the ever-present collar. Butch was now a tame doggie, eager to please his master, and always looking forward to the evening sex.

There is something magical about a boy and his dog.