Page 132 of The Billionaires

So maybe this isn’t BDSM. Otherwise, what she’s doing would be considered topping from the bottom. Still, whatever this kink is, I might just be into it. My cock is almost painfully hard.

She takes a four-legged step. Then another. Her ass shakes so temptingly I want to growl—or rip those jeans into shreds.

After she takes the next step, the leash goes taut.

“You’re supposed to walk with me,” she says. “That or press the button to give the leash some give.”

I gape down at her. “What the hell is going on?”

“I’m the dog, you’re the walker,” she says in a snarky tone that calms my libido a little—one or two percent, tops.

“I got that,” I bite out. “Why would you structure the lesson this way?”

The idea that she’s done this with other clients—male clients—makes me furious… which is just as illogical as the sudden urge to order her to do this with me and no one else going forward.

She turns and looks up, just as she would if we were going at it doggy-style. “My training philosophy is inspired by the Golden Rule: only do onto dogs what I’m okay experiencing for myself.”

“That makes a warped kind of sense,” I admit grudgingly.

In fact, I’ve been following something like her philosophy all this time, which is why, for example, the dog eats food made by my chef.

“And you said you couldn’t describe how you use the leash,” she continues. “So now you can show me.”

“Fine,” I grit out.

“Finally,” she says with an eyeroll. “Now let’s see you walk me, and then I’ll do you.”

She wants me to be on all fours? That’s another kink altogether, and one I’m decidedly not into.

One problem at a time. I readjust my erection so that I’m able to trudge behind her slowly. “Ready.”

She crawls. I follow, keeping the leash loose.

“Great job,” she says. “Now let’s pretend you don’t want me to go there.” She gestures at the edge of the carpet. “There might be a squirrel, or something I shouldn’t eat.”

I pull on the leash as I would with Colossus in said scenario.

“No,” she says sternly. “That’s too hard. You could choke him.”

I grit my teeth. “Maybe if he wore a collar, yes, but he wears a harness. At most, I’d lift him.”

“You should learn the technique that can apply to all dogs. What if someone asks you to walk their bigger dog?”

She has a point. The same way I got saddled with this dog, I could end up with another one down the line.

Apparently, I can’t say no to some people.

“Go for the squirrel again,” I order.

She does, and I could swear she shakes her butt as she crawls—a move that sends shockwaves through my throbbing cock.

With an iron effort of will, I pull the leash gently.

“That’s better,” she says. “But really, what you’re going for is a little tug.”

I do my best to tug.

“Almost there,” she says.

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