The Chris Bellows' Collection

by Chris Bellows

  This is bizarre!

  And I am most firmly erect.

  How can I find this situation to be arousing?

  As time passes, I experiment and find that movement is surprisingly possible... even easier than if I was crawling about on hands and knees. Without the restraining leash, I could most aptly get about.

  Someone ingeniously calculated the length of these faux dog legs and painstakingly replicated paws to facilitate movement on all fours.

  So despite the tightness of the latex enveloping thighs, calves, biceps and forearms, I have astonishing mobility...as long as I move about on four paws...as would a dog.

  I expected to endure some degree of humiliation but mollified my apprehension with thoughts of a quick fifty dollars; more, counting the generous advance for shaving supplies, and the understanding that one afternoon...one spent in anonymity...was all that was required of me.

  But I cannot seem to control my member. And I am most curious as to what the woman did with my balls. Though the fumes of the paint placed me in a fog, the application of wet softness and her giggling left an impression.

  My thoughts quickly disperse as the utility room door swings open. It is Lenore. And her attire stuns. I wonder if the sound of my gulp can be heard.

  Chapter Seven

  Lenore

  Wow! Nancy is good. Before me is this little guy Willie completely painted in black and white to resemble a Dalmatian. And that woman from New York with the arm and leg restraints! I must visit her kennel some time.

  Well, many guests have arrived and Chloe has returned from the nail parlor and been completely surprised by the back yard gathering. More are expected and in waiting I thought it best to check on our canine entertainment.

  So here I stand in the expected attire of our little group....knee-high black leather boots, black thong, skintight bodice. And though Willie’s mask covers all facial expressions, it seems the brevity of my attire makes an impression. Or perhaps it’s the walking stick I hold in my hand.

  “Hello, pup,” I graciously greet my leashed friend.

  “I want to see the rest of you. Nancy does great work, wouldn’t you agree?”

  I step to the washing machine and take the free end of the leash. If Willie realized how easy it is to incapacitate him when bound in latex he would be most concerned. Nancy merely flipped the leather-looped end of the chain once around the drainpipe. No locks, no knots, no clips. But for Willie, there are no fingers. Thus he will require the prehensile assistance of a woman for any freedom of movement this afternoon.

  “Up.”

  I tug firmly, establishing my authority. The sudden tension brings an abrupt gasp as the collar tightens. Willie is forced to right himself at the waist.

  With knees perched on the faux paws and feet drawn up to his hips, he’s about as awkward as a real dog standing on hind legs. Thus my powerful hand grips the chain near his collar to steady him as I stand to his side to enjoy Nancy’s handiwork.

  “Goodness. It appears our little doggie is in heat!”

  I wish I could see his face as I comment on the massive erection. The Cialis has kicked in with the expected effect on the priapic teenaged male. The appendage is totally beyond his ability to control and I am happy to see he’s uncircumcised. It makes for such an enticing display; the moisture of the smegma causing the purple tip to glisten. And Nancy has comically painted his scrotum such an alluring pink.

  I cannot help tapping at the aroused organ with my stick. The flat end is designed to produce a slapping sound, sometimes more of a message for the ears than for the pain receptors.

  With my nearness and grip on the leash I feel Willie shudder when I touch his precious male parts. So wonderfully sensitive.

  “Can you see your balls, Willie? Nancy has outdone herself. I’ll want you to concentrate on crawling about with those hind paws well parted. Your precious testicles are nicely highlighted for the guests and I’ll want them fully displayed.”

  He begins to reply and I tap more firmly. He lurches when the stick nips his balls.

  “Dogs don’t talk,” I am forced to remind him.

  I release my grip and he lowers himself to all fours.

  “Come. You should practice a bit before being presented.”

  I tug. He of course follows the straining chain. It’s nice to demonstrate feminine power. I have a naked male on a leash. It’s going to be quite a party.

  Chapter Eight

  Willie

  This is out of control. I am fully exposed to this demanding woman who uses a stick to correct my behavior!

  But then I realize the exposure is relative. The mask covers my face. The body paint and latex cover just about all else. I guess it is only my erect prick that has been left to examining female eyes.

  As suspected, following the leash is disconcertingly easy. I advance elbows and knees and even on the linoleum the little rubber dog paws seem to provide adequate traction. Meanwhile, I look and align the eyeholes in the mask to view Lenore’s backside. She wears a thong leaving exposed to my gaze both large, powerful but most effeminate buttocks!

  This is a ‘girl’s party’, Lenore suggested at our initial meeting. What types of girls wear such suggestive attire in the company of only women?

  “Very good, Willie. You’ve learned the role so quickly.”

  Her tone and cooing voice suggest she is addressing a puppy, she herself so facilely fulfilling the role of ‘Master’.

  She leads me about the kitchen, out to the living room and back. I hear the high pitched clamor of a gaggle of young women on the other side of the back door. My throat goes dry. I tremble. I knew I would be naked and painted. But with this erection out of control and my scrotum painted such a lurid pink, I did not think such attention would be drawn to anatomy, which men are less than eager to flaunt in public.

  Back to the living room, Lenore stands in the middle of the room and uses the leash in her left hand to walk me in circles. In her right is her stick. I am shocked to feel the flat end nip my testicles when she reaches down and nestles it between my bound thighs and calves.

  “Remember to keep those rear paws widely separated. The girls will want to know our little puppy is a male.”

  I enter a funk realizing how well exposed my hanging sac is between my painted buttocks. If my balls dangle to provide such ready access to the stick, the view must be most licentious.

  I hear a voice call out, ‘All here, Lenore’.

  “It’s show time,” my smiling Master announces.

  And with that she stoops and reaches under my belly to give my erect penis the most tender of teasing strokes. Her brief touch shocks us both; her surprise expressed by a devilish cackle; mine by an outbreak of goose bumps in realization that I will undertake my role with penis standing at full attention. Yet I do not find the courage to resist.

  Is my anserine flesh the result of fear or some strange anticipation and innate desire for exhibitionism?

  I’m going to be the center of attraction.

  Chapter Nine

  Lenore

  Nice build on Willie. He seems most athletic with his alacrity in learning to walk about on all fours. This will be easier than I thought.

  One of the girls opens the kitchen door and with a sharp tap of the walking stick to his nice pink balls, Willie instantly realizes who’s in charge and how the afternoon will progress. Despite a degree of reluctance it’s out the back door to the patio deck and pool area, teeming with women.

  Except for Nancy, all heads turn in surprise as I lead a naked male about on a leash. Though most are of Chloe and my persuasion in terms of sexual preference, I have invited a married neighbor who, though living a most vanilla life, seems to enjoy observing the more lascivious lifestyle of our friends.

  The wine has been flowing for about half an hour. The gossip cascades. All have been wishing Chloe a wonderful birthday as the party entertainment arrives.

  Chloe, my little blond companion, watches th
e regal procession with such an exquisite look of exhilaration. Her preferences are as Sapphic as mine are, but what woman can ignore the diabolical comeuppance of humiliating the virile male?

  I lead Willie directly to her on the opposite side of the pool. It’s a warm October afternoon, and though no one will test their constitution with a swim in water cooled by autumn nights, the setting of sunshine reflecting off the clear blue is most pleasant.

  “Happy birthday Chloe,” I formally announce. “I present the puppy you were never allowed,” specifying my black and white companion with a jerk of his leash.

  Chloe gushes and squeals with delight. As with all gifts, it is the thought that counts and my cute blond companion is grateful that I chose to address her childhood disappointment in never being permitted a pet. It is important to both of us.

  I hand her the leash and walking stick. She laughs.

  “A Dalmatian,” she giggles, instantly falling into the afternoon’s running gag. “Just what I always wanted.”

  She lifts to tighten the chain, barking a command of ‘stay’. And then as all girls are wont to do, she stoops to Willie’s rear and transfers the walking stick to her leash hand. Her left is free to explore and of course she palms the pink bag of flesh and draws it back for the viewing of the nearby girls.

  “And it’s a male!”

  The laughter becomes uproarious. Willie’s covered head sinks in shame. Yet when I bend at the waist and peer under his spotted tummy, the erect phallus seems firmer than ever. I wonder just how much arousal is caused by the Cialis and just how much is brought on with the extreme humiliation.

  There are those males who enjoy such scenes: clothed female, naked male. Perhaps we have found one.

  Chapter Ten

  Willie

  I am in love.

  Chloe, the girl to whom I have been gifted, is blonde, petite and beautiful. Blue eyes, with an effervescent personality, she is dressed plainly yet her slim waist, sizable breasts and charming, plush hips belie the simplicity of her attire. Her pure and innocent good looks make me feel so ashamed in appearing before her in such a debaucherous role: a naked party boy, a rather kinky male stripper with outrageously painted gonads, and an erection which thankfully, in crawling about on all fours, not many women have noticed.

  She gleefully palms my sac and draws it back between my thighs and forcibly upturned feet and calves. The lurid display of the male reproductive organs brings derisive laughter. What was that comparison Lenore made? To bachelor parties ...with alcohol and entertainment.

  At first blush it would appear that it is she being mischievous in handling the male organs. But how is it that such have come to be so prominently displayed and available to her touch? After all, I did volunteer and though the bondage is startling, the nudity was beforehand aptly explained. It is not she who is engaging in libidinous conduct.

  And so I flush with humiliation under her exploring hand and examining eyes.

  “Come puppy,” she playfully suggests in releasing my balls and maintaining her role.

  I feel my testicles swing about and she leads me firmly on the leash.

  “What’s his name?” she calls out to an admiring Lenore.

  “Willie. And he has a nice one.”

  My secret is out. Through the mask I spy the reaction to Lenore’s double entendre. Many stoop to look under my black and white torso. More giggles follow in spying my ‘willie’, stiff and conspicuously standing out as the only naturally colored portion of my anatomy.

  “Nicely hung for a short guy,” comes one comment. Others are less complimentary. Some sneer. Overall there seems to be a propensity to denigrate the priapic male. I am indeed entertaining.

  Chloe leads me once around the pool and I feel the penetrating stares of the dozens of women as the awkward motion of my entrapped thighs causes my plums to swing. I am introduced to all with the very polite title of ‘Miss’ inserted before each first name. Endeavoring to please, I sniff every foot and each hand when extended. I know to fulfill the canine role but the mask inhibits licking.

  A rather stern middle-aged woman, a Miss Beverly, puts aside all pretension when I begin sniffing about her foot. Two fingers from a strong and firm hand slip under my collar and brusquely tug me upward. My front paws rise from the pool side deck. I once again find myself perched awkwardly on hind paws, struggling to balance on bent knees, her firm grip supporting my upper body. This exposes to the gaze of my entire black and white underbelly, a frontal view of the dangling pink scrotum and of course my massive erection.

  The crowd of women shrieks with delight. All modesty and decorum are put aside.

  “He likes being displayed, the young stud. Look at that stiff pecker!” the assertive Miss Beverly calls out to all.

  And then for the first time I feel it, a discernible twinge in my loins. My arousal seems to heighten and I embarrass myself by feeling my erect penis waggle for the entire crowd to observe.

  Miss Chloe seems most impressed. And others express their enjoyment. For the first time, cameras flash with the black and white body paint serving as a backdrop in so nicely highlighting the natural flesh tones of my erection. I remind myself of the anonymity of my task. But it provides little relief from the mental stress.

  “A puppy who’s ready to stud,” Chloe decrees, adding to the hilarity...and my shame.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chloe

  Whoever is under that mask is either a great mime with lot of nerve or a curiously kinky guy who seems to be besotted with my guidance and control. As I walk him about the pool area, directing him to heel, sit, stay, etc., I occasionally make eye contact through the covering of black and white rubber. Such soft worshiping eyes...and he’s constantly looking at me...seeming to await the next command or tug on the leash with silent adulation. Thus it is not only his engorged phallus that evidences a strange enjoyment of the bizarre scene.

  The girls love the setting. With almost all-preferring alternatives to male affection, watching such extreme subjugation amuses. And it is interesting to observe the various levels of reaction with Beverly treating the pup with such disdain...others just sipping wine and laughing...some joining in the replication of canine antics by offering hands and feet to be sniffed. Then there is our neighbor, Judy, I believe the only heterosexual in the group, looking on with eyes glued to the comically painted scrotal sac, seemingly mesmerized as it swings about. When Beverly holds him upright for a view of that nasty erection, it is Judy who boldly steps forward and snaps photos.

  I will have to get copies.

  I am impressed that, as the afternoon wears and the wine flows, Willie the pup maintains his tumescence. The tone of his muscling and his ability to move about with arms and legs uncomfortably entrapped suggests a certain youthful athleticism which I guess spurs the hormones and keeps the male organ quite stimulated. And so I become rather aroused myself knowing that, but for my controlling hand, Willie would be working his willie.

  Yes, though having no desire for the male, controlling his libido, and all else for that matter, has a peculiarly pleasant effect. I am sanguine in handling a naked male and it is not totally the effect of the wine.

  I find myself taken to having control. And with my third glass of Chardonnay, I tap away with the walking stick enjoying the sight of Willie lurching with the taps to his testicles, feeling his muscled form spasmodically pull on the leash in reaction, and understanding that I am endeavoring to make Willie a well-trained dog.

  What an interesting way to communicate! Master and dog. Authority and obedience. Pulls on the leash, corrective taps of the stick, an occasion terse command.

  It’s a fascinating afternoon. The camaraderie of friends...the laughter...the ridiculing calls and comments...having a naked male so demean himself before the fully clothed group. Lenore is so thoughtful.

  Chapter Twelve

  Willie

  I do not understand why I remain so erect. It’s all I can do to restrain my hands
from reaching around and stroking myself to relief. Just crawl into a corner and feel the wondrous pleasure of having my all too experienced right hand extinguish the lustful fire.

  Hours into the party, Chloe finally tires of walking me about, though I do not tire of gazing at her exquisite form. She leads me to a table and taps away with the walking stick as the leash directs me to step onto a chair and then up to the surface of the table. Though the leash is not tied off, the chair is slid away and without it I cannot return to the pool deck without jumping...an impossible task with limbs bound. So perched on the table I spend the afternoon where all can view my painted nakedness. An abrasive woman occasionally reaches out to caress and knead my scrotum, but otherwise the attention thankfully somewhat wanes.

  But then this Miss Judy woman, earlier fervently snapping away with camera, steps through an opening in the back fence and returns with a bowl. It is filled with water and I quickly realize there will be more exhibition of canine behavior.

  She kindly places the bowl before me on the table and I find that I am indeed thirsty.

  “Drink up, Willie. Later I’ll take you for a walk.”

  The meaning of the words did not fully register as, without thinking, I lower my head to the bowl. Of course my snout hits the bottom of the bowl before my lips came near the level of the water. I had forgotten about the mask’s most prominent dog-like feature, a long spotted nose with faux nostrils.

  Miss Judy laughs, also not anticipating my predicament.

  “Well, you cannot go long without something to drink.”

  She seems genuinely concerned, as opposed to the other partygoers, and signals to Miss Nancy, the cosmetician. She approaches.

  “Willie really should be offered liquids,” Miss Judy lectures. “And flaccidity will need to be induced at some point.”

  Miss Nancy smirks, uncaring about the male organ dysfunctioning in such a luridly pleasing manner. But the message is received. Two hands move to my neck and she gruffly tugs and removes my mask!