Page 37 of Chance's Choice
Treats! Treats! Treats!
I yip at him, wagging my tail so hard that my entire body moves with the effort.
“Sit,” he warns again, but he sounds happy. It’s all I can do to obey, whining as he holds a bone-shaped cookie out in front of me. “Now, remember –gentle, Kade.”
Okay, so I might have gotten excited and bitten him a little once.
Just once.
It wasn’t even a hard bite. Just a nip to his fingers as I took the treat.
But that meant I had to sit and be still and quiet forforeverafterwards, so I’m super careful nowadays.
I take the proffered treat with exaggerated caution and crunch it happily between my teeth. Daddy scratches me behind the ear and I lean into the touch.
“Okay…water…obstacles.”
Again, only a few words out of his actual sentences filter through the fog in my brain, but I let Daddy lead me over to the table, where he pulls down a gleaming porcelain dog bowl and pours water into it from a fresh bottle he’d grabbed from the refrigerator before we came outside. I drop and lap at the offering happily, washing down the last of the treat, uncaring of the mess I’m making.
Daddy waits until I’m done and then tips the remaining dregs of water out of the bowl and onto the grass, placing the bowl back on the table before picking my leash back up and leading me towards the ramp.
He stands at the side of the construction, making sure the leash is lax so I can climb without being accidentally tugged towards him. The side of the ramp we start on has built in rungs running horizontally across its surface. They’rejustbumpy enough to give me leverage to climb, but don’t stick out enough that you could call them footholds or handholds. It takes me a while to work out the best way to climb: when I’m on the ground, I use my human knees as my rear paws, but for this exercise I need to use my socked feet. Even though it’s not a big ramp, nor is it that high off the ground, my front paw pads mean I don’t have fingers or grip, and it takes longer than I thought it would to make it to the top of the obstacle.
Daddy praises my efforts the whole time, though. Even when I slip backwards and need to reattempt it.
I hesitate at the top with my front paws scrabbling for purchase on the slippery ramp down. An unconscious whine escapes from the back of my throat when I realize that heading down is going to be faster -but more difficult- than climbing up.
“It’s okay,” Daddy strokes his hand down my spine, starting at the top of my head and ending at my tail. I concentrate a little harder on what he’s saying. “You’ve got this. Good boy. Good dog.”
The praise bolsters me, and I launch forward over the apex of the ramp, slipping and sliding paws first to the ground below.
I land in an ungainly heap at the bottom no worse for wear. Getting to my paws, I give my whole body a shake.
“Good boy!” Daddy praises, dropping to his knees beside me on the grass. He rubs my sides with both hands, petting and scratching and praising. “Good job, Kade.”
I flop to the ground in front of him, rolling onto my back, letting my tongue loll out as he rubs my belly.
Yeah, life is good.
* * *
Forgetgood. Life is fucking excellent.
These are the thoughts I have an hour or so after our scene in the yard, when Chance has me pressed against the cool, white tiles in his shower, his cock teasing in between my cheeks. His mouth is trailing wet, open mouthed kisses over my shoulders and up my neck, and his hand -his magical, glorious hand- has managed to wriggle in between the tiles and my body, squeezing and stroking and teasing my cock.
The water from the shower is deliciously hot as it rains down on us, and Chance doesn’t seem to be in a hurry for us to clean up and get out. If anything, he’s intent on making us dirtier.
I’m down with that.
“Did you have fun today, baby?” he whispers huskily into my ear and his whiskers tickle my jaw.
I almost don’t understand what he’s asking. I’m too distracted by the hand on my dick, and the feel of his hard shaft rubbing in the cleft of my ass, so damn close to where I’m starting to desperately need him.
“Nnngh,” I answer, nodding. The movement shifts some of the lusty haze from my brain. “Yeah…oh,fuck, Chance.”
He chuckles. With his lips brushing my earlobe and his back pressed up against mine, the rich sound envelopes me. “I meant the pup play, baby.”
“Oh,” I say, still not entirely present in the conversation. “L-loved it.” And I did. I loved how immersive it felt, and how much effort Chance has gone to to set up his yard, fully investing in this part of me, literally building it into his lifestyle. “Loveyou, Daddy.”
