THE DOG PACK, part 3

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

When Six had finished gobbling up the cake I resumed my questioning. 

Q: From what you say, there are a number of dog owners around here, then.

6:  Oh, yes.  Some of the station owners keep ponies, and they sometimes bring them over here and drive them around in their traps.  But they're a lot more trouble - you have to buy special harnesses and bits for the blokes, and there's a constant effort in mucking out their stables and so on - us dogs mostly keep our sleeping compartment clean, if we can, but the pony boys, well, they drip shit all over the place as it's kind of expected of them.  Dogs area a lot less trouble.

Q: And are they in packs, like you, or more like pets or guard dogs, like old six and old seven that you told me about?

6:  Well, not many owners keep packs like my Owner - it costs a fortune, what with the kennel maids and the Trainer to pay. And, of course, there's the cost of the prey - that must be enormous.  And if you're not into serious hunting, you don't need a pack, do you?  There's an owner who has the next station to us that has a superb pair of greyhounds, and he races them against each other to amuse his friends:  those guys are so competitive and so keen to beat each other, that it makes me wonder what he does to incent them to go at it so hard.  It's certainly not done by punishment, as their arses and backs are all free from whip scars and stuff.

Q: Greyhounds?

6: Yes, blokes who're specially trained to run like the wind.  They're really tall - at least six seven - with great long legs.  And he keeps them entirely shaved smooth, so there's not a bit of hair to make resistance.  And when they're racing they're allowed to have these tiny racing pouches on that hold their dicks and balls down so they don't hurt themselves as they fly along.  They're as alike as two peas in a pod, and that's why the racing is so exciting - it really does depend on which one is in the best form at the time, as almost every other factor has been ruled out.

Q: You've seen them, then?

6: Oh yes - when they come over here with their owner and there's a race, our Owner doesn't mind if we come out of our compound to watch.  And if they're staying overnight, they sleep with us in our sleeping compartment - really nice lads they are, and they love joining in our little night time sports.  The only problem is that their dicks are in proportion to the rest of them, and having one of those great long things up you... well, I expect you can imagine....  But still, they're always ready to take dick, too, and it makes a change to have a nice smooth body against you, as we're all hairy as you know.

6: They're quite often here for the hunt, and their owner lets them join in.  They don't have collars, so they frequently lose the prey as they charge about at such speed and there's no way of telling them which way to run.  Not that it matters much - they're too tired after the first ten minutes or so:  they start off like the wind, and easily outpace all of us, but they don't have the stamina.  They're sprinters, not capable of the kind of sustained pursuit of the prey that we are.

6: As I said, they're nice lads.  Not like the bloke we call the Welsh Terrier.

Q: Who's he?

6: Oh, a dog owned by a friend of the Owners.  We got into big trouble last time...  This dog is about five foot six, very slightly built but quite nicely toned and well proportioned.  But he's a Welshman, and you know what these little Welshmen are like: pugnacious, always arguing with you, very ready to pick a fight.  We don't like him much, and we always try to stay out of the way of him.  But the last time there was a hunt, there he was, running around all the riders and us as we waited for the prey to be brought around, and we got fed up of him.  We told him to shut up, but he kept on, and Four really lost his temper, and that's unusual for Four as he's a placid kind of bloke.  Told the Welsh Terrier that if he didn't leave us alone with  the hunters, and go off and play by himself, he'd be in for it.  Well, the Welsh Terrier isn't the sort of bloke to do that, and he told Four, in quite a loud voice, to go and fuck himself!  Some of the ladies on their horses were shocked, I can tell you, to hear such coarse language.  We're always very careful ourselves - in the compound we don't mind calling a fucker a fucker, but not in front of the Owner's guests, especially if they're ladies.  Four wasn't going to stand for that, was he, so he slapped the Welsh Terrier hard, once on each bum, and told him to watch his language.  The next minute the Welsh Terrier went for poor Four, arms flailing, trying to punch him.  


6: Well, Four's about a foot taller and eighty pounds heavier than the Welsh Terrier, so he simply held the little guy at arms length and began to laugh.  The Welsh Terrier then started calling Four every name under the sun, and it was clearly distressing the ladies. So Four picked him up and kind of threw him down on to the ground, then threw himself on top of him, to shut him up. Instead of just taking it, the Welsh Terrier continued to struggle, and even tried to pull Four's balls off - that did it, and Four lost it, and simply fucked the Welsh Terrier.  As I said, Four's a gentle bloke, but when he's roused, well, you'd better watch it!  He fucked the Terrier really hard, and the language soon changed to screams and shouts as Four's dick ploughed into him.  The Welsh Terrier's owner, who'd done nothing to control his dog up until now, came over and started beating at Four's back and bum with his riding crop, shouting at Four to leave his dog alone.  It was really comical, as the Terrier's owner is a short fat guy, and he simply couldn't put enough power behind the riding crop to make any difference at all to Four, and Four simply fucked away.  

6: When Four pulled out - it was only a short fuck - you'd have thought the Terrier would have had enough, but he then started punching Seven, who was the nearest of us to him.  And so Seven simply swept the feet away from under the Terrier, then when he was down, proceeded to give him a good fucking too!  The ladies and gentlemen were all laughing by this time to see such sport, and the Terrier's owner gave up and simply stalked off.  When Seven was done, he pulled the Terrier to his feet, slapped his arse several times and told him to run off and find his Owner.  

6: Although all the guests were  delighted, that night there was hell to pay in the kennels - the Owner and Trainer were furious with us all, as they said we ought to be mature enough to be able to deal with a silly little runt like the Welsh Terrier.  His owner had really complained to our Owner, and so we all needed punishing:  not just Four and Seven, but all of us.  The whole pack is, after all, responsible for the behaviour of its members.  We all got a good stinging from the Trainer -  it really hurt, as he wasn't messing about and turned the power up. Then the Owner used his whip on us - we had to kneel down as if we were going to be fed, then he went down the line of our arses, two strokes for each dog, enough to draw blood.  And we didn't get any dinner either. Actually, although the stinging was the most painful and we were all writhing around in agony, the whipping from our Owner was the worst, as he's not usually like that:  we knew we must really have offended him, by making him appear to be an owner who can't control his dogs.   Anyway, at least when the Welsh Terrier comes here now he minds his manners, and he mostly ignores us hunting dogs and lurks around next to his owner.

(I wanted to hear more about the other dogs in the area, but I sensed that six was tiring - I suspected that he wasn't used to having long conversations as we had, and probably spent a lot of time just exchanging short sentences with his peers.  After all, what would the eight of them have to talk about - they were hardly likely to debate philosophy, and they couldn't discuss the latest movies, or restaurants, or boyfriends!  I therefore decided to move on).

Q:  So tell me about he puppy, Six, in your own time.

6: Well, our Owner really only has us as his hunting pack - he doesn't bother with other dogs around the place as some owners do.  And  we mostly come here in our early twenties - I think I mentioned to you that Five is the youngest of us, as he's twenty, and that's unusual. You need a certain strength to be a hunter, as in the final throw you have to be able to overcome the prey and subdue him enough to be able to fuck him, and that strength doesn't really come until you're a bit older.  But about a year ago the Owner decided that it might be fun to have a young pup around the place, and so he went to the dealers and found one who might grow up into being a useful general dog around here, for acting as a watch dog for when we're all locked up in our sleeping compartment, and so on.  It's too difficult to pick up a pup who's going to grow up to be suitable for the pack, as the Owner's standards are so high and we all have to be perfectly matched, as I've told you.

6: Anyway, we were all just back from an afternoon's exercise - we'd been swimming, as I recall, and we were all frolicking around and generally enjoying life: although the swimming's tough and the Trainer makes us keep at it, we all like it and so it doesn't seem so much like hard work - when the carrier arrived and the men unloaded a big case.  The Trainer left us to our own devices, and we started an impromptu game of ball, whilst he went off to investigate.  Inside the case, which he prised open, was a travelling cage with the puppy inside.  He wasn't too cramped, not like when I'd been brought here, as he looked to be quite slim and so there was a lot more room for him.

6: The Trainer opened the cage, pulled the pup to his feet, and got him out.  He looked to be about sixteen (and indeed, he was, as we found out later), and he was a typical sixteen year old skate boarder - tall for his age, relatively well built with the promise of better things to come later, and wearing the typical boarders "uniform" - baseball cap turned backwards, sweatshirt,  baggy, low-cut Jeans which he wore slung right down on his hips so that we could see the waistband of his Calvin's, and trainers on his feet.  He took one look around, saw all us dogs who until a moment ago had been playing, and freaked out.  He started shouting at the Trainer about being caged up, threatening to call the cops, and saying he wasn't staying around a bunch of perverts.  We were all a bit surprised by this as there aren't any perverts here - the Owner would never allow such a thing.  The Trainer, who's a big guy himself, told him to shut up, but when the pup went on compiling, the Trainer simply cuffed him around the head:  not too hard, just a gentle tap, really, although the "slap" resounded around the exercise yard.

6: The pup shut up abruptly.  I don't think anyone had ever hit him before, so he wasn't used to discipline.  He stood there in shock, and the Trainer called me over.  He turned to the pup and said "This is Six.  He's going to look after you for the first couple of weeks.  Listen to him, do what he says - he really knows the ropes, and if you pay attention to what he says, it will be a lot easier for you."  I could see the pup simply staring at me as if there was something wrong! Sure, I was all sweaty as we'd been playing, and there was a lot of dirt on my coat where I'd just been tackled during the ball game and had rolled around a bit on the ground.  But I was smiling at him, trying not to frighten him or anything, and I didn't see why he carried on looking at me like that.  "Now, Six", the Trainer went on, "You look after this pup.  The Owner specially asked me to get you to do it, as you're a sensible fellow and he knows you're good with youngsters.  Remember, he's only a pup and you can't expect him to join in with you all in all the things you do together as he's not strong enough, or tough enough to do miles of running. Keep those randy pack mates of yours away from him for a bit, too, until he's settled down - we think he's not been with other dogs, and the Owner doesn't want him damaged and needing the vet to sew him up if his anus is abused.  Make sure he gets his proper share of the food, too - you know how excited all you dogs get when there's a bit more food on offer, and it's to go to him, not to be wolfed down by the rest of you.  OK, Six?   Think of how hard it was when you came here, and you were a properly grown dog, not a pup like him. Look after him."

6: I said yes, of course, and I was really pleased that the Owner had asked me to do this.  Some of the other dogs would have said they'd do it, but wouldn't really do it very well. I wanted my Owner to know I was really trustworthy, and I was going to make a good job of it.  Actually, I think the Owner was also being good to me in another way - I'd just been deposed as top dog by Three, and was still moping a bit about my loss of status, and missing the little extras and so on.  The Owner knew that this would give me something to re-focus on: it just shows how well he knows us dogs and understands the pack dynamics.  The Trainer told me to take him off to the kennel maids as they had been told how the Owner wanted him trimmed, so I smiled at him and said "Come on, young pup, follow me..." 

6: Well, he just stood there.  So I put my hand around his left bicep to lead him, and he shook me off.  I tried again, and he started shouting "Leave me alone... Let go... Fucking don't touch me, pervert."   I couldn't have that, could I?  Even though I was no longer top dog, I was number two, and I deserved respect.  So, still holding on to his arm, I soundly spanked his arse two or three times, rather as you see some parents doing to tiny children who are misbehaving - it doesn't hurt all that much through their clothes, and the angle's all wrong for a hard blow, but it's the shock effect.  He looked utterly stunned, and shut up.  "You hit me!", he said, rather obviously.  "Yes, and I'm bigger and tougher and stronger than you, and if you continue to behave like a silly kid, I'll hit you again, and again, until you've learned some respect.  Now, come with me...."

6: I led him off, still firmly holding his bicep to show I was in control, and he came quite meekly.
We went in to the kennel maids' area, but they were not there yet.  But I knew he had to be got ready for them, so I said, calmly and quietly, "Undress, please".  I could have just ordered him to "strip" curtly, but I was trying to be nice.  Several of the other dogs had followed us in and were standing there watching, and he looked terror stricken - like a rabbit caught in the glare of a headlight.  I shouted at the others to leave, then said, quietly again, "Now there's just the two of us, please undress.  I don't want to have to tear the clothes off you, so just remove everything."

6: He almost whimpered "No, it's not right...".  I could see he was very upset, so instead of just going ahead and pulling his clothes off, I reasoned with him. "Now, there's just the two of us, and I'm not wearing clothes.  All the other dogs here don't wear clothes, so there's no harm in you taking yours off, is there?  You'll be a lot more comfortable once you get used to it, and our Owner likes his dogs to be nice and clean, and we need to get you cleaned up, young pup."
He almost whined in reply "No, please... Don't make me.  And I'm not a dog, I'm not a pup... My name's Mark....".  "No, pup, you're not called Mark any more.  Our Owner might give you a name in due course, or you might get a number in the pack like me - see, I'm Six (actually, that's not right, as I knew he could never be in the pack.  But I wanted to give him something to aspire to).  And I'm afraid that if you don't start undressing soon, I will have to make you, as the Owner has entrusted your care to me.  You're not embarrassed, are you?  You look like a good-looking, well hung pup to me - look, if it makes it any easier, why don't you just pretend that you're changing for gym or something back at school, and pull off your shirt, drop your trousers... Come on, pup... Don't keep me waiting."

6: Well, he did then, very slowly, and stood in front of me in his Calvins.  He did have a nice body, and I could see there was lots of promise there with proper training, although he still had that look of a young guy just on the cusp of manhood.  I could tell from the wisps of hair on his chest, and the faint treasure trail across his belly, that he must be properly mature, though. "Come on, pup.  Drop those shorts - around here dogs and pups don't wear clothes.".  He stood there, not moving, so I went and stood next to him put my arm around his waist so that he couldn't move away, and then used my other hand to gently tease the elastic waistband of his Calvins down over his hips, then let them slide down his legs so that he was naked.  I took special care to stretch the waistband as it went over his dick, so that he wasn't in any discomfort, and I saw that it was nicely in proportion to the rest of his body, and slung underneath was a good set of balls, gently swaying in their sac.  He still had a 'skin, and I wondered if I should tell him then that he was going to lose that when he was docked, but decided not to - let things take their course.  He obviously wasn't going to be in our pack, though, however long and hard he trained, as his pubic hair was a darkish blond, shading to brown to match his head hair.

6: "There", I said, "See, it's not really a problem, is it?  Now we're just a dog and a pup together.  Now just stand quietly and wait for the kennel maids - it will feel a bit odd at first having them wash you and shave you, but they do it to all of us and I can assure you they know what they're doing.  The maids came in at that point, and the pup's hands flew to cover his manhood.  "Hi, Six", they said cheerily.  "Is this the pup you're looking after?  Standard treatment has been ordered for him... He's not going to give us any trouble, is he?".  I assured them that the pup would behave, but of course he didn't.  As soon as the shower water went on and they came towards him with a wash cloth, he tried to bolt.  He was no match for me, though, as I'm really good at running after and catching prey, and I simply scooped him off the ground and carried him back into kennel maids across my shoulder - I felt his cock and balls pressing into my shoulder blade, and I gave his arse a couple of quick slaps as he lay there, and he scrabbled feebly at my lower back with his hands as I did this.  I actually held him while they washed him - first I put a kind of "Nelson" hold in him and pressed his back into my front whilst they washed his face, body, dick and balls.  He tried to squirm and wriggle away as they pushed his 'skin back to get at any smeg that had built up, and I could see why our Owner had us docked as it wasted so much time.  Then I flipped him around and held his front against mine by wrapping my arms around him just under his armpits, so they could make a good job of pulling his bum cheeks apart and thoroughly washing in there.  I let him go, and he just stood there, almost as if in shock, as I meekly presented myself for washing in the usual way (including of course bending over and making my arse available for cleaning, to save them trouble).

6: Shaving his face was easy, as he only had a lad's fine down there, but when they wanted to trim his pubes and shave his balls, he made another run for it.  I'd had enough - after I'd carried him back in, both of us all wet and dripping, I sat down, put him over my knees, and gave him a good hard spanking - and with my strength, that's very hard.  I made him apologise to the kennel maids, which he did with a very bad grace, and then when he was lying on their table, and they were about to begin, I leapt up onto it, straddled him and almost sat down so my arse was on his chest - I took most of my weight on my knees, of course, as I didn't want to hurt him.  My dick was hanging just above his face, and I said "This is what happens, young pup, when I can't trust you - I'm going to hold you here while they make your balls nice and smooth like mine, and trim that pubic hair of yours down to a respectable patch, just like I've got.  All of this could have been much simpler if you'd just co-operate.  It's going to happen to you anyway, so just learn to accept it - I wouldn't let them do anything to you that harmed you, or hurt you, OK?"  He pushed his face to one side, not even trying to answer my question, and I thought about really doing something to him to shock him out of his arrogance once and for all - my dick was, after all, hanging over his face and it would be easy enough just to piss on him: that's always a good way to subdue prey that's a bit uppity, we find.  But I decided that he was already upset, and I had been told to treat him kindly, so I let it pass.

6: He was sullen and silent when the girls trimmed his hair, but afterwards he looked much better - he was more like a proper pup with just the fuzz they left and he looked a lot "harder" somehow.  I thought he was getting better, but when the Trainer appeared to collar him, he started snivelling and trying to run away all over again.  The trainer was kind and gentle, too - he had me sit down then sit the pup down on to me and wrap my arms around his waist to hold him in position - he felt soft and silky-smooth as his arse and balls pressed down onto my dick, and I could tell the kennel maids had done a good job on cleaning him and shaving him down there, but he didn't seem to like it one bit, even though I only had half an erection and wasn't pressing up into him hardly at all.  The trainer measured him for his collar, and then allowed a lot extra as the pup's neck would naturally thicken as he trained in the next few weeks and as he matured generally, and then he used the collaring tool to close it around his neck as usual.  I stood the pup up and ran my finger around the inside of his collar and his neck, enjoying the swelling of his Adam's apple as he swallowed nervously as I did.  "Thank the Trainer, pup, for doing a great job on this collar - there's no rough part of any kind, so it won't chafe you at all.  And I think you owe the kennel maids a big apology too - you made their work a lot harder, and they've got enough to do with us eight dogs to groom, and now you as well.  Look, you're almost one of us now - naked, trimmed, collared:  once you've been in the sun a bit and that white patch around your middle has darkened, you'll be a proper pup, fit to be seen with us dogs."  He didn't speak, though, so I thanked the Trainer and the girls on his behalf, and led him back out to join the other dogs.

6: They all cheered when they saw him, and came bounding over.  Young Five was really enthusiastic - I think he hoped we'd stop thinking of him as the baby in the pack now - and fell on his knees so he could wrap his arms around the pup's bum and really get his nose stuck in for a first scent of the pup.  But his spontaneous gesture of welcome to the pack really upset the pup, and he seemed terrified, so I slapped  Five on the side of his face, and told him to leave the pup alone for the time being.   I took him off under the shade of one of the trees and gestured to the rest of the pack to stay away.  I pulled the pup close to me, and said "Now listen, it's time for you to understand what's what here.  You're a dog now, property of our Owner.  You've got his collar on you, and I expect that soon he'll have you marked with his name and phone number, just as I and all the other dogs in the pack are.".  I showed him my tattoo on my shoulder, and went on "So it's time to stop being stupid.  All of the pack here will try to help as it must be difficult for a young guy to adjust, but when someone like young Five tries to be friendly, you'd do well to respond properly and not try to jerk away like that.  Scent is very important to us dogs, as you'll find out.  So now I'm going to smell you, so that I can recognise you in the dark tonight.  Come here..."

6: I put my arm around the shoulders of the pup so that he would feel secure, and lowered my head to nuzzle his pubes.  I licked gently at his balls, then separated his thighs a little and licked and sniffed delicately along towards his hole - he stirred in my arms, and moaned gently.  Finally, I squeezed around his dick head very gently so as not to alarm him, then when the head popped out from his 'skin, lapped at it, savouring the fresh taste of young cock.  I noticed a little ball of pre-cum squeeze its way out of his piss slit, and let the tip of my tongue just brush it away.  I raised my head, and said "There, that wasn't so bad, was it.  Now it's your turn, pup : you've got to learn to recognise me - get down and do the same to me as I've just done to you."  He looked panic stricken again, and said "No, please, sir, don't make me do that... It's disgusting..."

6: Well, he had to be corrected, didn't he?  So I told him that I was Six, not sir - we don't stand on formality in the pack, even though I was a lot older than him..  And that in no way was it disgusting - all us dogs scented each other like that.  And he really had to learn to do it, so I put my hand on the back of his neck, above his collar which was of course still loose as he hadn't grown yet, and gently pushed him down into my crotch.  He didn't seem to want to sniff deeply, or to lick me, so I had to be a bit stern and squeeze his neck to let him know that I was in control, but at last he did.  Mind you, when I let him go free, he seemed very upset so I pulled him to me and wrapped my arms around him, to make him feel secure.

6: He started to almost sob.  "Please, Six, don't do this to me.  I don't go with men..."  Well, that was OK then, wasn't it, so I told him not to worry.  None of the men here would go with us dogs - not the Owner, not the Trainer, nor the guards - none of them.  They're not perverts, are they, to want to fuck with dogs?  But the other blokes in the pack, that's different - we're a  close knit functioning unit, and all of us dogs obviously enjoy each others' bodies.  That set him off again, and he said he wanted to go home, to get out of here.  So I told him the truth:  "Look, pup, this is your home now, here with the Owner on his station.  I don't know if he's going to have you around the house as a house dog, or if he's going to let you run free with us in the hunting pack, but either way this station is your home, and you're not going to leave it."  I explained about the perimeter fence, and the collar, and explained how the Owner and Trainer basically let us run free except when we were exercising and training, or hunting.  "It's a really good life", I told him, "And you'll soon get used to it.  I expect you'll find it a lot more interesting than being back in England..."

6: He told me his life story, then, and I felt really sorry for him.  His mom had died when he was nine, and his father brought him up after that, and as so often happens when there's a dad and a son, they got quite close.  Then when the pup was fifteen, his dad met and married a young girl, only eighteen.  She took a dislike to the pup, and poisoned his dad's mind against him.  When she got pregnant, she insisted that the pup be sent away, into Council care, as she didn't want him around when the baby was born. That's when the Owner's agents found him - he was about to be shipped off to a children's home, which, as we all know, isn't a good place for a sixteen year old lad.  It was lucky, really, that he was spotted, and brought here, as now at least there were a bunch of blokes who really cared for him.  I tried to make him see that he was really a lucky pup, but he just wouldn't agree.

6: "Look, pup, it really doesn't matter what you think now - the proof of the pudding's in the eating, and in a couple of weeks you'll feel very different, I tell you.  Now - come on, it's feeding time and those that aren't there, miss out."  The other dogs were really kind to him that first feeding -  I had to slap a couple of bums to make them open up a space in the centre of the trough for the pup, and at first he didn't seem to want to kneel there with the others - well, I can understand why: before I knelt opposite him I took a look and it did look a bit odd - the dark brown muscular bums of the regular pack, and there, in the middle, the much thinner, deadly white bum of the pup!  The kennel maids came out with the food and poured it in to the trough, and I almost cried when I saw how kind the other dogs were - they knew the pup was having a hard time, and they pushed all the nice little bits down towards him, so he got the best of everything that night - a piece of blood sausage, the lovely white meaty bit of a rabbit's back, and a pair of kidneys from one of the sheep from the station.  He didn't seem to want to eat, though, but it was easy for me, as my face was opposite him, to tell him that he'd got to, to get his strength up, and that if he didn't I go over there and spank him.  Well, actually, l wouldn't have done that, would I, as if I'd moved from the trough all the other dogs would have scoffed my portion instantly, but he didn't know that.

6: After we'd been fed, it was time to be cleaned up and we joined the others, even though the kennel maids had groomed us once already.  Somehow he didn't seem to mind so much this time - perhaps it was having all the other dogs there with the kennel maids, so it wasn't such a one-on-one as it had been earlier.  But I noted that I'd have to have a word with him afterwards, as even though he could see how all the other dogs bent over and opened their arses to make the maid's job easier, he still didn't do it and they had to really struggle to get the wash cloth into his bum crack.

6: In the sleeping compartment that night he looked at the small space and all the dogs crowding in, and at the straw on the floor, and started to look panicked again.  I put my arm around his shoulders and led him over and pulled him down next to me near the wall, then, when the door was shut and locked and the lights went out, I called out and told all the other dogs that they were not to touch the pup that night.  He didn't seem to like my body against him at first, but I pulled him close to me and wrapped my arms around him to make him feel secure.  Well, I didn't fuck him that night, as I thought he needed to rest, although I had a raging erection as his slim bum nestled in my crotch, and at some point I kind of opened his legs so that my cock could get between his thighs, to make myself more comfortable.  In the middle of the night I realised he was awake, and as my hand moved down over his belly, he too was erect. I went to stroke his dick, but he tried to move away and gripped my wrist to stop me.  I turned him over so we were facing each other, and his dick was stabbing into my belly (I lodged mine  again between his thighs, under his balls - I thought the comforting heat of my dick against his arse hole would be nice for him).  "Now, pup", I whispered as I didn't want to disturb the others (although some were awake, as I could hear a couple of them fucking), "You've got to get your sleep in.  And you can't sleep with an erection like that.  Now, are you going to wank yourself, or shall I do it?"  Well, he did it himself, and his semen shot all over my belly, but I didn't mind - I was only thinking bout the pup's comfort.  I told him to hold his thigh together then while I rocked backwards and forwards, and I soon shot my load, too, and then we slept.

6: As we waited to have the door unlocked the next morning, he told me he was bursting for a piss, and I explained that he could go ahead, but that we all tried to wait. "This is the first day of your new life, pup", I told him, "So try to enjoy it!  Watch what I do, see how the other dogs behave, and try to fit in."  Well, he was bursting to piss!  Even though he didn't seem to like pissing in a big group, he was able to let fly a big stream that really impressed us all. Then when the Trainer arrived, he accompanied us on our morning run.  I was surprised that he could keep up with us - the Trainer had brought his trainers out so that his feet were not hurt - but afterwards the pup told me he used to do cross-country at school, and that he was used to doing seven miles.  I think that got him a lot of respect from all the other dogs, and I saw Five standing next to him and then reach down and massage the pup's balls, telling him that we were all sore at first as you need to get used to running without a jock strap or shorts.

6: Well, after that, he seemed to fit in quite quickly - the other dog all liked him, and he soon got to know them.  I insisted he started to learn all our scents that second day, and by the end of the week he could do it with some degree of accuracy.  I took his virginity on that second night - well, I mean, there's no point in waiting for the inevitable, is there?  He was probably all worried inside about it, so the sooner he got it over with, the better. As Five had taken such an interest in him I called Five over and made him wank himself to give us some lube, then I really took a lot of care with massaging and stretching the pup's hole before I slid into him.  And, yes, I know that the other dog think I'm a big, hard, insensitive fucker, but I can be gentle when I want to, and that time I really was.  As we lay together afterwards, covered in sweat, I kissed him very gently, and was really pleased to feel him respond, with his tongue thrashing around with mine in my mouth.  As a reward I made Five kneel down and stick his arse in the air, then helped the pup to his first real sex - I guided the pup's dick into Five, then knelt behind him and had my hands on his hips, pulling and pushing him in and out.  Five's not a bad dog, actually, and he co-operated a lot - I think he squeezed his arse muscles to give the pup as much pleasure as possible, and as the pup finally shouted "Oh, God, I'm coming...", all the other dogs gave him a big cheer.

6: Well, that's it about the pup, really - he's our Owner's favourite now, and follows him around everywhere.  But when the Owner's away, he always comes and sleeps in the sleeping compartment with us.  We all really like him, and even though he's not a proper member of the pack, he joins in with us really well.  He never turns down the opportunity to take a dick or to suck one, and he's turned into a really enthusiastic fucker - well, I suppose at his age you are, aren't you?

(I could see Six looking out of the window as we were speaking, and saw all the other dogs gambolling around in their yard, then line up at the feeding trough.  It was clear Six's mind was on his supper, so I said "Go on then, Six, off to your dinner...", and with that lithe grace he has,  he was on his feet, and bounded out of the windows to join his pack).

That ends the transcript of my conversation with one of the pack animals at my Host's station. The following day he invited me to ride out with him, and we were both mounted on our horses when a stunningly handsome young man raced around the corner, stopped by my Host's horse, and kissed his riding boot.  My Host cracked the man affectionately on his naked shoulders with his riding crop, and we set off for our ride, with  the man racing ahead, then coming back to us, then racing off, again,  and again.  He had probably the best young man's body I've ever seen - lean yet muscular, broad shouldered, slim waisted, perfectly rounded bum giving onto long, muscular thighs - he was a joy to behold from the back as he raced away from us.   And when he came back, his broad chest with its big dark aureoles, washboard stomach leading down to a long, meaty cock on top of free- swinging balls made a sight equally delicious.

"My pup's turned out well, don't you think?", my Host asked me.  

"Is that the lad Six was telling me about?"

"Yes - Six did a good job at breaking him, and then supervising his training and so on.  He settled in really well, and we didn't even have a problem when I had him docked - I can't stand foreskins on display, you know - as Six took him to one side and explained it all.  I'm going to have a problem, though - I'm selling the pup, and I think Six will be really upset."

"Selling him - such a splendid animal, he's a joy to behold..."

"Yes, but it's not fair on him, or on the other dogs.  It's OK on a day like today when I'm here and I can exercise him, but he's left alone too much with the servants, and he really needs an Owner who can devote more time to him.  I know he plays with the pack then, but it's unsettling for them - he's such a desirable piece of arse for them to fuck that it upsets their hierarchy and everything.  Anyway, I've had a really good offer from a friend who specialises in show dogs - he saw the pup and thinks he's a champion: he believes that next year, when he's finally finished putting on his full adult muscle, there won't be anything to touch him the Australian Championships."

(We chatted on, but unfortunately I had to take my leave later that day to get back to London for the international symposium, and there was no time to interview Six further.).


AUTHOR'S NOTE

I came across this original of my letter to "The Journal" as I was clearing out some papers the other day, and was amused to reflect on how it had radically changed my life.  On publication, I was roundly set up on by the fellow members of my profession for producing a hoax, a fabrication, a fantasy.  They simply would not accept that my dialogue with Six was as it had been, and my professional reputation was in ruins.  I was asked to resign from the Society, and lost my teaching post at the University.  News of the scandal spread to the national press, and those awful cheap, low-class sheets in which the British so delight picked up on it and called me "Mad Dog Professor" and the like.  On TV talk shows comedians would come on and make mock growling noises, and talk about me having gone "barking mad".

I was challenged to reveal the name of the Owner, my host, and the location of the station in the Outback, but of course my professional ethics - yes, I still had them, in spite of the attitude of my profession generally - prevented me from doing so.

On a visit to London, my former host asked me to dinner to thank me for the way in which I was dealing with this crisis, and we had a lively discussion about matters of human psychology generally.  The upshot of this was that he invited me back to the station, as he wanted me to watch his next video conference about a major deal, and then advise him on the real motivations of those involved.  He was so astonished at the insights that I was able to give him into the behaviour that I saw exhibited, that he offered me a long term contract to be his advisor on such matters, which I accepted:  compared with my academic salary, I am now extremely rich.

Much of my work takes place in the big house on the station, where my employer prefers to spend his time, but I have my own bungalow only half a mile away, within the perimeter fence. I also have a luxurious penthouse apartment in Melbourne, a floor below my employer's, where we spend about one or two days a week on those meetings that require his physical presence.  I've told you I am a keen horseman, and my employer generously allows me to keep my hunters in his stable, and to join that select band who he invites to his hunts.  It truly is exciting to see the pack in full cry after a human prey, and I can understand why my employer is prepared to spend so much money in maintaining the pack and in securing the tough, wily men who we hunt.

I saw Six in the pack, of course, and he always seemed to give me a special smile as he evidently remembered our conversation as something out of the ordinary in his life.  My employer consulted me about his behaviour shortly after my arrival, though, as Six no longer seemed to be as happy as usual - my employer thought that this was connected with the sale of "the pup", to whom Six had a special attachment, and I suggested that this was probably true:  Six had started to treat the pup as his own progeny, as he was unable to form a close bond with the pup he had sired as he had described to me.  The sale of the pup would therefore be specially cruel for Six, and that had sent him into a decline that had hastened his fall to the bottom dog in the pack.

My employer expended much effort to find a good home for Six as he had located a replacement dog - a young SEAL in Annapolis had been spotted with exactly the right combination of height, body mass,  and hair colour, together with the deep black eyes that are so necessary.  However none of my employer's friends wanted to take Six, as they had seen the rough, but careful, way he treated the junior members of the pack when he had been top dog - you'll have read that Six was keen to slap and cuff, although never to cause permanent harm.  Mothers simply did not believe that he might not do that to their children.

It therefore looked as if Six would have to be sold to a farmer, as a dog for rounding up sheep, and I knew that he would hate that.  His life would be one of constantly running around obeying his owner's commands, but there would be no companionship in the pack in the evenings, as sheep dogs are kept singly.  I advised my employer that this was a potential disaster, and he said that perhaps the kindest thing to do then would be to have Six put down.  A better solution presented itself, however, and I offered to buy Six as my own dog, as when I went out riding alone in the morning, I remembered how good it was to have a dog scampering alongside, and of course they are so useful if you do take a pot shot at a pheasant or a rabbit, as they can chase away and retrieve the dead animal for you.

Six was installed in my bungalow, and I made the smallest bedroom into his kennel, providing him with a comfortable pad to sleep on, and a blanked to cover him as he would not have  the warmth of the other dogs around him.  Like all dogs, though, he soon began taking liberties and started to sleep outside the door of my own bedroom, then on his blanked at the foot of my bed.  He says it's good, though, as whenever he wants to piss he no longer has to wait to be unlocked - I've had a big "dog door" fitted and he can crawl thorough whenever he wants to relieve himself in his very own sand pt.  His tattoo proved a bit of a nuisance, as it required laser treatment to erase his former owner's name and phone number, before mine could be substituted, but Six bore it bravely.  

He doesn't have a bad life, actually  - although he lives alone in my bungalow, he's near enough to the main house to be able to join in pack activities on occasion, and there's nothing he likes more than to jog over there to join in the morning piss, and run.  I've also noticed him sloping off on those afternoons when the pack is going swimming in the river - that's a particular favourite activity of his. I also let him come with me when my employer invites me to a hunt - he knows enough to stay out of the pack's way then, and wouldn't dream of trying to beat them to the prey, but he loves the "thrill of the chase" and often arrives at the prey just as the second or third dog is fucking it.  He always tries to get into the pack sleeping compartment that night, as he's a sort of "honorary member" and is allowed to fuck the prey after the pack has finished with it.

I was expecting a problem when I finally decided that I was going to fuck Six's wonderful arse myself.  After all, you can't have a perfect piece of man flesh constantly around you all the time and not want to do that, can you?  I remembered how Six thought that an owner fucking his dog was a "perversion", but I'm not a celebrated psychologist for nothing - I worked away at Six for a week or so, convincing him that we were now a pack, a pack of two, and that I was the top dog, and consequently all his training and conditioning mad it easy for me to take him. I cheated a bit, though - I made him lie on his back and took him in the missionary position that first time:  not only was it particularly humiliating for him to have to lie on his back to be fucked (dogs lie on their backs when they have given in after a fight), but of course I as able to penetrate harder and further than I would have if I had used the conventional "dog" position, which was the only one he had been allowed to use by my employer.  He therefore had an exaggerated impression of my ability to fuck, and confirmed that I was indeed the dominant male.

I'm gradually teaching him a bit more about life - for example, when  I go to Melbourne I sometimes take him with me.  He enjoys the helicopter ride, but grumbles constantly as he has to wear shorts and a T for the transfer between the heliport and my apartment, and for when he uses the gym and pool in the building.  I've got really attached to him, and I know he worships me, as a dog should.  One night, after dinner when I was sitting looking out over the city, Six came and sat on the floor at my feet and rested his head in my lap, as usual sniffing for my scent.  "You know, master", he said, "I love to come with you, but I wish you'd leave me on the station as I don't really like the city...".

"No, Six, a dog's place is with his master.  You just feel comfortable at the station, because of the perimeter fence.  You used to think that it was to keep you in, but in fact it's to keep the world out, to stop it interfering with your little self-contained universe.  You can do it, Six - you're a tough, brave, fierce dog, and by my side, you can face anything out here in the real world."  

He gave a little sigh of contentment, and we sat there together, watching the sunset.

THE END.


           

      

   





