Puppy Bitch
"The dog is the only animal that has seen his god."
--Author Unknown
"Come, lola," he called from the door, setting a brown paper sack down on the hall entrance, his keys beside it and his wallet. He peeled his jacket off, a thin black layer over his soft cotton shirt. It was folded in half quickly and tossed on a nearby chair.
I was slow, but not because I was disobedient. Crawling took longer than walking upright. I missed the feeling of carpet under my feet, linoleum, tile, grass between my toes. It had been four days since I had been allowed to stand. My knees were pink all the time, and my neck hurt from looking up. At him.
But I loved the sight of him, in any form. I loved his feet, the only thing lower than me. The wide spread toes demanding space to tread. When he moved, all the ground was his, even if I should be occupying it in some way. I smiled at the feel of them on my shoulder, pushing me away, on my thighs, spreading me open. I loved his legs—thick when he came toward me, flexing fast or landing hard beside me, brushing my ribs or kicking against my hips. I loved his thighs and how they slapped against my skin when he fucked me, how they felt beneath my lap and cunt when he spanked me. I loved his belly and chest as my eyes traveled up his body, strong and solid when he held me. I loved his arms, long and capable of bringing me intense pleasure, and even more intense pain. He could trap me, choke me, hold me, hit me. And his hands with their thick, soft palms. I wanted to bite those hands that tortured me. His throat, his pulse, his salty neck that I clung to while he raped my cunt, while he pinned me to the wall and fucked me until I cried. And then his mouth, barking commands at me, sinking teeth into me, licking at my pussy, my thighs, my ass, my tits, pressed against my ear and grunting, reminding me to whom I belong. His dark, dark eyes opening every part of my body to him, memorizing, studying, marking. It was hard to see his eyes on my knees. But I always looked, always wanted to see.
I stopped a few feet from him and looked up. He was in an ambivalent mood and seemed to be trying to gauge how I most needed him. Finding no tears, no attitude, no readable response, he squatted down and motioned me closer. I moved forward, a smile beginning on my mouth, and then faster, throwing myself against him and knocking him backward against the door. I was always thrilled to see him home, and I hugged him hard, covering his face with fat, wet kisses and climbing up his lap. He laughed, and wrapped his arms around me, sliding one hand down to my panties and catching my butt with a quick squeeze.