Page 67 of Training His Pet

She peeked up again at the sound of his zipper lowering. He pulled his cock out of his pants; his tattooed hand wrapped around his thick shaft.

“Naughty kittens have their milk and go to bed early,” he proclaimed and began stroking himself. “Hold your bowl up, pet.”

She shifted her weight on her knees, raising the bowl closer to him. Heat flooded through her body when she realized what was happening. What he was going to do, what he was going make her do.

A cold tremor ran down her spine when her gaze locked on his. Controlled arousal glared down at her. His body had reacted to watching her ass turn red, but he wasn’t focused on his release. His concentration was on her learning, her taking her punishment.

“Stick out your tongue.” He let go of his cock and snapped his fingers in front of her face. She raised her chin and did as he bid. His dry, salty hand ran over her tongue several times. “Get it wet and stick it out again.”

She stiffened her back, knowing she would do it, knowing she had to. Because she’d been very naughty, and he was dishing out her punishment. They would be back to normal after he was finished.

Again, his hand ran over her tongue.

“Ah, fuck, that’s better,” he groaned when he began to stroke himself again. She watched his thick fingers moving over his long shaft, wishing it were her hand, her tongue, running over the silky-smooth feel of his cock.

His hand holding her leash dove into her hair, fisting it and pulling her head back. “Hold up your bowl, pet,” he demanded, and she could see the knot in his neck. The control slipped in his gaze.

She moved the bowl up, close to the tip of his cock.

He growled.

A dark, angry sound erupted from his throat as long strips of cum burst from his dick. She forced herself to look away from his load puddling in the bowl, and to keep staring up at his eyes.

When the last bit of his orgasm let go of him, he released her hair and stepped back from her. Tucking his cock back into his pants, he sucked in a long breath.

“Fuck. I’d rather that have been your mouth, or your pussy.” He shook his head. “But you had other ideas, huh, pet?”

A tear fell down her cheek.

He stared at her for a long moment in silence then grabbed her bowl from her and placed it on the floor in front of her.

“Have your milk before it gets cold.” He straightened, folding his arms over his chest.

His pants were still undone and opened, but he wasn’t making a move to fix his clothes. His gaze was settled on her, fixated on making sure she obeyed him.

If she refused, would he belt her again? Would her punishment change to something else?

Swallowing down her fears, she leaned down on her elbows, pressing her hands flat to the kitchen floor. She brought her face close to the bowl, smelling the musky scent of his arousal in her bowl.

“All the way clean.” He nudged the bowl with his boot toward her.

She lowered her face into the bowl, licking her tongue along the bottom of the bowl and taking in his salty, warm fluid. Closing her eyes to what she was doing, what it meant, she swallowed and licked again.

“That’s my good girl, my sweet girl.” His voice blanketed her in safety.

As hot as her body was with her humiliation, the pride from his words cooled her.

She continued to lick and swallow, making sure she didn’t miss a drop of the milk he’d given her. Wanting to be good, to show him how good she could and would be for him, she ran her tongue along the bowl, cleaning it thoroughly. When she opened her eyes again, she was looking down at the words embossed on the bottom.

#1 Pet

Her collar tugged, and she moved back to her heels, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

When she dared to finally look up at him, her breath caught.

Sincere pride shone down at her.

“That’s my sweet girl.” He ran his fingertips over her forehead. “Now go to your crate, I’ll be there in a minute to close you up for the night.” He unhooked the leash and picked up the empty bowl.

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