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With a facial expression that was a combination between pout and embarrassment, the nude and exposed Doberman whined, "Can I at least put the blindfold on myself?", as the two longtime buddies sat on couch inside The Kennel. 'The Kennel' being the name for Michael's room that polled the best with the thorough focus group testing Miles had been conducting the last couple days. Other contenders up for posed the sample audience for the possible name of the room had been 'The Dungeon', 'The Breeding Pen', and 'The Full Service Station'.

Truthfully, to Jake it didn't matter one lick whether or not his friend put on the kinky bit of black leather himself, but at the same time he knew that part of his role as Overseer was keeping Mike in the right state of mind. More specifically, docile, submissive, and compliant. To that end, it was important to the inexperienced dominant that his charge understand that testing the boundaries of his authority was a quick way to get nowhere fast.

"Mikey, stop being contrary for the sake of being contrary. I love ya to pieces, but you're seriously killing me with this shit. Now, enough complaining or I'm going to grab the full head cover instead. And that would be a shame, because you have a pretty handsome mug on ya, puppy."

Sitting fully dressed in recently purchased in-fashion brand-name clothing, the Clydesdale couldn't help but perceive the blatant differences in status between the two of them. He allowed his eyes to travel up and down Michael's well developed body, which in his assessment was near perfect in all the ways that mattered. Even the dog's cock size seemed to fit the Doberman just right in a way that would have been hard to the Overseer to explain to another person. Rather than thinking of that Mike had a cocky personality to compensate for some supposed 'downstairs deficiency', Jake liked to believe that Fate knew how much of an ego the dog was going to develop, and installed a built-in automatic humbling ego-deflator. After all, who knows how much more trouble the leap-first-think-never hunk would have gotten himself into if he had been born with a foot-long dick like himself? Clearly the canine wasn't responsible or mature enough to handle the added extra self-assurance that big of a dick can bestow. And now that Mike had gotten himself trapped in this legal quagmire, the four-and-a-half inch length (or so) just seemed appropriate, to the horse's sense of fairness and justice.

Roused by a couple of snaps in his field of vision as Mike moved his in front of Jake's face, the Clydesdale realized he'd be tuning out whatever the dog's response had been.

"Jake, did you hear me? You're starring... uh... off into space, there."

Actually, the engineering student hadn't been staring 'into space', but rather had been staring directly at his buddy's always-fully-erect length with a look of undisguised lust that hadn't been missed by the Doberman. For a moment, the large horse felt himself blush. As much as he tried to act cool and in control, he was still very new to this whole bizarre situation. Even now his friend's knotted arousal was the unignorable elephant in the room.

'Hah!', Jake thought, allowing himself a smirk at the mental image. 'I bet that's the only time in the history of ever that his dick has been compared in any way to an elephant. But enough with me being shy and coy. If I want to look at or explore his body some, that's my right and I have nothing to feel guilty about. Well, my right as soon as he signs the new paperwork. Before we get to that, though, I need to put on the damned blindfold.'

Opting to continue to look at the slave's package instead of making eye contact as he might do when addressing an equal, Jake asked, "Tiny, you try and jerk off again this morning?"

After a moment or two of awkward silence, Mike managed to mumble, "That's kind of private, man..."

The Overseer jerked his gaze back up, finally re-establishing eye contact, except this time with a firm, no-nonsense-tolerated scowl. "You want to repeat that for me, Princess Thumbelina?"

Looking even more put-upon and embarrassed than when the Jake had initially pulled out the blindfold, the Doberman tried to stand his ground. "Look, dude, there are some things we have to do because of this crazy, fucked up situation. I get that. But isn't some degree of privacy a constitutional right or something? I'm not trying to, you know, tell you off or anything, but can't I get a little room to breathe? Come on, man."

Putting forth a supreme effort to appear calm and authoritative, the Overseer saw that he needed to get the dog in-hand as soon as possible, or this backtalk and resistance was going to be a constant theme over the next few months.

"You want privacy, huh, Tiny? Well, tell me. How much privacy do you think you're going to have, when you're licking the sweat off some guy's balls for the camera. How much privacy are you expecting, when we do a live stream of your first time performing a rimjob? How much privacy will you maintain, when we broadcast a video of two machines pistoning lubed dildos into both sides of your strapped down body? All that and much, much more, and you're worried about me or anyone else knowing your jerk off schedule? Well, bud, I hear what you're saying, and good news for you, I have a solution to your concern.Your days of self pleasuring are over. Caput. Done. Got it? From now on, you'll only touch yourself in the bathroom to clean yourself in the shower and to piss, and only long enough to get the job done. See? Now you don't have to worry about anyone asking you questions about when and how often you pull your pud, because after today everyone will already know the answer to that question: Of course Tiny hasn't jerked off recently. He isn't allowed to. And now pup, you have two choices. You can back talk me some more, and lose even more privileges, or you can stop while you're ahead and tell me, 'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir'. So, what's it going to be?"

The Mike that Jake knew from high school would have immediately told the Clydesdale exactly when and how he could go fuck himself. But the college student wasn't dealing with the old full-of-himself, cocksure Doberman of days past. What he had on his hands was a frightened, anxious, over-the-top horndog who was caught in one hell of a bear trap.

"I'm... sorry. Sir. Like I said, I didn't mean for you to feel like I was telling you off or anything. Yeah, okay, fine, I jerked off for a few minutes this morning. It's not like it actually did anything for me, other than get me even more frustrated. Which I didn't think was even possible at this point. So, we're good, yeah? We don't need to make up random rules about that kind of stuff, do we?"

The horse could tell that the well-muscled slave was now trying to negotiate his way out his new reality, but Jake just saw this attempt for what it was. Another test of his authority.

"Sorry bud, but that's how it's going to have to be from this point on. I know you and that pecker are pretty attached to each other and have known each other for a long time, but from now on I want you to start considering that bit of meat my property. And I'm explicitly telling you that you don't have my permission to fondle my property, or stroke my property, or jerk off my property, or even to touch my property unless you have a good reason to. On the other hand, let me be clear that I am extending this permission to every other person on the planet. In other words, I don't want you pulling away or stopping anyone else from copping a feel, if they want. It could be the company janitor for all I care, it doesn't matter. If someone comes up to you and wants to play with your balls, squeeze your knot, finger your sheathe, or tweak the head of your cock, you stop what you're doing and let them have their fill. And while they are doing that, I want you to cross your arms behind your back and thrust out your hips some, so they know they're welcome to explore your package for as long as they like. Now, Tiny, shall we discuss this some more so we can continue to brainstorm more new rules for you, or would like me to put on the blindfold?"

The Doberman was defeated, and they both knew it. With a deep frown, the sulking youth leaned his head in slightly closer to Jake, indicating that their skirmish of words was over, and that the Overseer was free to act as he pleased. Humble in victory, Jake chose not to gloat or lord his triumph over the slave and focused on strapping on leather blindfold around Mike's eyes and ears. The purpose of the wrap-around mask was twofold: To block Tiny's entire field of vision and to muffle most sounds from the pup (since the leather mask also went over and around the dog's cropped ears).

Still sitting next to Michael, Jake leaned in close and spoke in his normal tone and volume and asked, "Can you hear me, Tiny?"

The Doberman turned his head as if trying to find the best angle for sound reception, and responded "...Yeah. Just barely, though. Sir... You may need to speak up" before muttering softly, "Or, you know... take off the blindfold..." under his breath.

Speaking a bit louder, Jake said "How about sight? Can you see anything? Also, does it feel too loose or too tight?"

"Can't see a thing... and it doesn't feel like it's pinching or nothing. Sir... please... can I ask what this thing is for?"

"That was a very polite and respectfully asked question, Tiny, so I'd be happy to tell you what the mask is for. I think you're getting too hung up on the thought of who might be tuning in for the various movies and videos we'll be making. I'm thinking that for our first recording session with a real living cameraman in the room with us, I'll want you blindfolded. That way you can focus only on me and my voice, rather than on some stranger with a big high-tech looking camera. But first I wanted to go through a dress rehearsal with you while you're wearing the blindfold. Does that sound fair, Tiny?"

"Yeah... I guess..."

"You guess?"

"Sir... I meant, yes sir."

"Much better. Remember, it's important that we treat this like it's actually being recorded, so I'll be staying in character for the entire session once we get started."

"Sir...if this is a dress rehearsal... what's the story?"

'Story?', Jake thought to himself. 'There's no story, Mike. It's your life, now. Not some fiction or fairy tale or make believe where you get to go home at the end of the day. But, that's okay. Keep believing that for now if you like. Hold onto that delusion for as long as you can, if it makes things easier on you.'

"I don't want to go into too much detail, since I want your reactions to be as authentic as possible for this rehearsal, but as a quick summary, we fool around on the couch some, things get pretty hot-n-heavy, I offer you the possibility of you getting to cum if you play along like a good puppy, and finally I let you jerk yourself off for the last time, wrapping up with an epic cumshot where you spew all over your chest and face."

"... Jake... sir... please... I..umm..."

"What is it, Mike?"

"Please, sir... can it be a real... you know... release? It's been over two weeks or something. I feel like my balls are going to explode or something. Please... I'm desperate man, for real!"

"That all depends on you, Tiny. You be good for this session and give it your all and follow instructions, and I'll make a special exception. But if you make me stop the rehearsal for any reason or refuse to do as you're told, you should plan at least another week or two before you're given another shot to try and make up for today. Got it?"

"Yes sir. I'll be on the ball, I promise."

"Let's hope so. Oh, and if I do allow you to cum, there's something I want in return."

"...What's that? Sir."

"I want you to clean your plate, without being prompted or reminded."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're going to have a tummy and chest covered in doggy spunk. Remember your suggestion that I have you lick up your own cum? I decided that was a good idea, and I think we should try it out. I want you to use your fingers and muzzle to clean it up after you get off. All of it. Every last drop. Anything that lands on your body. Whatever comes out of you, I want it heading right back in moments later, before your cream even has a chance to cool off. Down the hatch. Use two fingers on one hand as a scoop and wipe the cum off on your tongue before you swallow. And keep going until there's nothing left. Try and skip out on this, Tiny, and I can guarantee that it will be at least a full thirty days before I trust you enough to grant you permission to get off again. So keep that in mind when you're coming down from your squirt. Assuming you earn one."

"I... Jake... sir... I mean... come on..."

"Is that an objection I'm hearing, puppy? Remember that having you clean up your own mess was your idea."

A long, silent ten seconds passed, as the Doberman struggled with two conflicting needs: pride and lust. In the end, lust won out as Mike shook his masked head in the direction of Jake's voice.

"No, sir."

"Good to hear. I'm going to use the bathroom real quick, and then we'll be good to go. Maybe start thinking kinky thoughts to get in the mood. I'll be back with you in a few minutes."

Standing up and walking out of The Kennel (using his thumb print and keycode at the exit, and closing the automatically locking door behind him), Jake glanced around the hallway, instantly spotting the man he was looking for. Walking up to the casually dressed Rottweiler (semi-tattered blue jeans and sleeveless white shirt), the horse extended his hand and the two exchanged a brief but firm handshake.

"Hi there. You must be Marty. Good to meet you. I'm Jake. I hear you volunteered you services for us today after Miles reached out to you to see if you might be interested in lending a hand for this project. That's much appreciated, by the way. Is that everything you'll be needing, behind you?" the Clydesdale said, gesturing to the two large cases filled with expensive camera equipment that Marty was still sitting on top of.

"Aye. That's everything."

"And you comfortable doing the recording yourself? I've been told you've been caught up to speed on how we'll be handling today's shoot, including its sexual nature."

"'Sexual nature", eh? Well that's one way to put it, I suppose.Yeah, I'm ready to film a porn of you putting some bloke through his paces. I'll take care of everything on my end. As long as your boy takes care of me, afterwards. That was the arrangement I made with the cheetah. I want an hour with the pup, alone, no cameras. We got ourselves a deal?"

"Sound fair to me. But just for my peace of mind, what exactly are you planning to have him do for you?"

Flashing a predatory grin, the Rottweiler adjusted the conspicuous bulge that was forming in his jeans before replying, "That's between him and me. Don't worry... I won't be too hard on him. Unless he runs his mouth off at me. Then I might have to get a bit rough with the lad. Well... I'll be honest. I'm likely gonna get a bit rough with the pup regardless, but hey, if he wasn't into that kind of stuff he wouldn't be in this business in the first place, right? Let's just say, by the time I'm done with 'em, he'll know for certain he's not the alpha dog."

"Well, this is all a bit of a trial run, as far as I'm concerned. So if we like your camera work, and you enjoy your time with Tiny, we can negotiate terms for continuing on with this arrangement, so that everyone gets what they want. Okay then. You ready to get started? Remember the plan?"

Kneeling in front of his case, Marty popped it opened and assembled the device with the practiced ease of someone who'd spent plenty of time around cameras. "Aye. Just point the way. Time to make this bitch an internet star."

Before leading the way back into The Kennel, Jake looked over his shoulder to double check that the Rottie was following him. As he opened the door, he placed his pointer finger vertically in front of his lips, signifying to the cameraman that things were officially kicking off, and that, for now, he needed to keep his presence a secret from the blindfolded slave.

Retaking his seat next to Mike on the couch, Jake looked over to Marty who smiled grimly once more as he gave the horse a thumbs up.

"Hey, Tiny, nod if you can hear me."

Jerking in place slightly at the unannounced return of the Clydesdale, the dog immediately responded with a couple quick nods.

"That's a good boy, Tiny. Now, I want you to wave your hand directly in front of you, as if you were welcoming an audience full of friendly people, all here to see you."

Obviously still very much self-conscious, Mike shyly waved his hand out into the air in front of him, still firmly believing that no one (other than Jake) would ever actually see what happened during this dress rehearsal. Instead, the reality was that Marty's high-definition camera was capturing absolutely everything that was taking place in front of its lens.

Now, Tiny, I want you to pick your ass off the couch a bit, and thrust your hips out. Let the good folks see what you're working with down there.

Jaw visibly clenching in frustration, the nude and erect Dobie did as he was bid, placing his hands on either side his hips to lift his hips off the couch so that his crotch was now awkwardly thrust out, lewdly on full display. Working to keep up his side of their bargain, Marty silently stepped forward, filling the full camera frame with the slave's hips, cock, balls, and knot. Panning and rotating slowly and gently, the Rottweiler captured the other canine's package in inquisitie detail and from a range of angles.

"Tiny, all those people are paying good money to look you over. The least you can do is put a little enthusiasm into it. Try thrusting your hips back and forth a bit... let's see those nice balls of yours flopping around in the air some.

Secure in the knowledge that he was only embarrassing himself to an audience of one, it still took a few seconds for Michael to, yet again, swallow his pride enough to debase himself to this degree. Soon, though, the dog was pantomiming some odd never-before-seen sex act as his hips swung swiftly back and forth in a short arc, forcing his tackle to flop around obscenely.

"Not bad, pup. Good effort. I think you earned yourself nice belly rub for that. Come over here and lay down over my lap, face up. Come on, here ya go, boy."

Eager to move on to something less degrading, the Doberman turned around to feel around the couch with his hands, until his paws found the Clydesdale's muscular thighs. Laying down, he placed his head on the Overseer's lap, immediately aware of the half-hard arousal hidden by the horse's pants that his head was now laying against.

"I said belly rub, silly pup, not face rub. Scootch up some more."

Shuffling awkwardly, the dog moved up further until he felt the horse's still-hardening length pressing into his lower back.

"That's a good boy. Now, pull your hands close in, over your chest, and curl them into paws for me, just like the puppy you are."

Feeling a hot blush burn across his semi-masked face, Mike was again complied with his friend's increasingly unreasonable demands. For a moment, he thought Jake would use this opportunity to begin jerking him off for the 'camera', but instead the horse did exactly as he said he was going to do: scratching his fingers across Michael's short belly fur.

Speaking in the soothing, sing-song voice old women reserve for speaking to feral domesticated dogs, the Clydesdale said, "You're being such a good boy, aren't you? Yes you are... who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? Tiny's a good boy!"

Mike felt like he might die from shame as the belly rub went on for a couple minutes or so. Eventually he felt Jake's hand begin to slowly drift south, fingers starting to gently move through crotch fur, mere inches from his forever-hard length that was poking out into the air.

Hearing the horse's voice directly above him but unable to see his face, the canine realized Jake was going to force him to abandon his pride altogether if he was going to earn his release. "Tiny, puppies pant and and kick if they're enjoying their belly rub, remember?. Unless you aren't enjoying this and you'd like me to stop?"

Mentally, the dog known as Tiny was in turmoil, his mind working as fast as it could as it tried to think its way out of the situation. 'Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck! If I keep doing this bullshit, I might as well tear up my Man Card and throw it in the trash. But if I do anything other than what he tells me, he's going to take it out on my nuts and make me wait even longer... and I'm not I can take any more of that. God fucking damnit, why did I have to be born such a hornball? If I could just convince them I didn't care about cumming and wasn't going to do this shit no matter what, I bet they'd eventually just make me work in some kind of factory or some shit, until my debt was repaid. But that might mean months without getting my nut.... fuck! But... if I just play ball here for a few minutes more... it can't be too bad... right? Once I cum and get my head back on straight, I'll be able to think of a way out of this mess. Because there is no way in hell am I ever doing this shit on camera for internet perverts. Okay... so, fine... that's what I'll do. I'll play along, get some relief, then draw my line in the sand. Or something. I'll think of something..."

"Pup? Are you done with your belly rub? If so, I have a big bone for you to play with, but that would mean no more belly rubs for a couple weeks. Come on, Tiny, show me how much you want your belly rub and let me hear some heavy panting."

Clenching his eyes shut behind the blindfold as hard as he could, Mike tried to block out the world and his higher mental functions as forced himself to open his muzzle and start panting like a dog.

The Dobbie heard his friend gently coo at him, "Good boy... such a good boy..." as his beat-red cock was finally grasped in the Clydesdale's sizeable grip. Using a feather light touch, the Overseer to let his fingers move back and forth over the dog's below-average length. "Now puppy, let your tongue loll out of your muzzle on the left side, towards the camera. Let the folks tuning in know how much Tiny loves his belly rubs."

What was one more indignation, on top of everything else, Mike figured. Trying to ignore the analytical part of his brain that was screaming at him to put a stop to this nonsense, the canine began letting himself go with the flow, allowing his tongue to wag out of his mouth so that coated the patch of fur directly beneath it with a layer of saliva as he continued to pant heavily.

Jake's grip around the slave's cock grew noticeably more firm, and Tiny began to feel himself move steadily towards orgasm. Though, he knew full well that it wouldn't be long until he hit the maddening plateau where he could move no further without permission from whomever held the remote control.

"And your leg, Tiny. Kick out your left leg a little bit... just like a puppy does to let his Master know that he's found the perfect spot. Did I find the right spot, Tiny?"

Doing a rough approximation of a feral dog's leg twitching during an intensely satisfying belly rub, Tiny at last completed the image Jake was attempting to achieve for the websites initial, opening day audience. A horny, naked dog and his well-dressed and groomed Master, in perfect sync with one another. The slave puppy letting his Master know that everything was right in the world, trusting his owner as he panted and kicked out his pleasure while the dignified Master looked down with a kind expression as he rewarded his well behaved pup with the canine's favorite treat: an intimate belly rub.

As all this was playing out, Marty continued to move around the couch in a full circle, stealthily capturing (in his own assessment) some 'very kinky shit'. 'Jeez,' the Rottie thought. 'They told me this dog was a kinky bitch, but this really takes the cake. Well, Rover, when it time for you and me to get to know one another, it's good to know how far I can take it with you. I doubt I'll have any trouble convincing you who the alpha male is between the two of us... not with that bad-joke of a dick sticking out from your sheathe. I got to admit... you got some nice balls, though. Even still, you really got the short end of the genetic stick, didn't you pup? The way, way short end. You call thing a knot? I'll be more than happy to show you what a real dog's knot looks like.'

After allowing this to go on for few more minutes so that whoever was editing the video would have plenty of film to choose the best quality from, Jake decided to move things along to the next step.

"Tiny, I'm going to start asking you some simple 'yes' or 'no' questions. But since puppies can't speak, you're going to have to bark out your answers. If the answer to my question is 'yes', I want you to bark out two ruffs. If the answer to my question is 'no', I want you to bark out just a single ruff. Understand me? If so, let me hear two ruffs."

This was, at last, almost too much for the twenty-one year old Doberman. Or at least, it would have been if he'd been thinking with his higher-functions anymore, instead of with his balls. Whatever discipline and self-respect Mike had left had completely abandoned him while Jake's hand had slowly pushed him to the precipice of cumming. It felt like his body would seize up with the throes of orgasm any second now, but he knew only all-too well from hours upon hours of masturbation (both at the hospital and at this new facility) that without someone pushing the button or flipping the switch (or whatever the fuck needed to happen) that not a single drop of real cum was going to find its way out of his blue balls. The only way that was going to happen was for him to do as he was told... for now, at least.

"Ruff, ruff."

"Good boy, Tiny! But let's try it again, but this time louder, and with more excitement."

"Ruff! Ruff!"

"Perfect. Okay, first question. I'll make it an easy one. Is Tiny enjoying his belly rub?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" (Yes!)

"But Tiny was a bad dog, wasn't he, and isn't allowed to give himself belly rubs anymore, is he?"

"Ruff..." (No...)

"But didn't I tell Tiny that today was a special day? Since it's his first time being on camera, I said we might make an exception to that rule, didn't I?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" (Yes!)

"But there were two conditions to that exceptions... hmm... help me remember, pup. I believe the first one was that you had to be very, very well behaved. Does that sound right?"

"Ruff. Ruff." (Yes)

"And the second... hmm... Oh, I remember. The second condition was that if you were allowed to give yourself a belly rub today, it would be your last one ever, and that you'd have to agree to never rub yourself down there again. Remember agreeing to that?"

"Ruff... ruff..." (Yes...)

"You've been very good so far today, haven't you? And I bet you plan on staying a good boy for your Master, for the rest of the day?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" (Yes!)

"Good boy! Well, that's nice to hear, because my arm is beginning to get tired. Why don't you take over for me, Tiny? Don't get use to it though... this is an exception to a rule that your Master is very serious about. That's a no-no place down there, and after today you're not allowed to touch it any more unless you are specifically told otherwise. Well, boy, go ahead. Show our audience how you use to work that bone, before you were lucky enough to find a Master."

With that said, Jake let go of Tiny's meat and clasped both hands behind his head, making a show relaxing as he let his puppy take over the task of giving himself a tummy rub, or, more accurately, jerking his own cock off. And sure enough, just a few seconds after the Overseer removed his hand, Mike's paw was there ready to take up the slack, jerking his cock even harder and faster than his Master had been.

"Hmmm, if this is going to be your last time where you're allowed to give yourself a belly rub, it doesn't seem fair that you have to do it bone dry, does it, Tiny?"

"Ruff!" (No!)

"I totally agree, pup. How would you like your owner to get that nice and wet for you?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" (Yes!)

Allowing himself a cocky smile, Jake let his arms drape horizontally over the top of the couch as he leaned over so that his mouth was a few inches from Michael's crotch, where the Dobbie's paw was moving back and forth over his dick as fast as he could manage. After fifteen seconds or so, the Overseer allowed his lips to part slightly... just enough to allow a large strand of saliva to drip from his mouth onto the dog's cock tip and hand. Thinking that the Clydesdale must have grabbed a hidden bottle of lube, Mike didn't hesitate in using fingers to spread the horse's spit all over his now glistening length and knot. For two or three minutes Jake repeated this act every few second as his saliva reserves refilled, so that in the end, the dog's crotch was completely drenched in horse spit.

"There you go, pup. That's much better, isn't it?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" (Yes!)

"That's my good boy. Now... there's one more thing Tiny needs to do, before his Master let's him make a mess. Think you can do one more thing for me, puppy?"

"Ruff! Ruff!" (Yes!)

"Good... that's a good boy. The last thing you need to do before we can wrap up your belly rub is to prove that you trust and love your Master. I need you to sign something for me, without taking off your blindfold or looking at it first. Do that for me, and our viewers will know that you're a good boy who deserves to finish up his last self-belly rub with a big splash, rather than with a big whimper. What do you say, boy, can you do that for me?"

This last request caught Mike by surprise. Why did Jake need his signature? Was this another legal document or a contract of some kind? Or was this just an act... a show put on for the dress rehearsal? 'That must be it', the canine reasoned. 'There's no way that an unread contract, signed while blindfolded could be legally binding. Right? Besides, they already have the other bulletproof contract... at least, according to two company lawyers they let me speak to. But man... I wish I could call timeout and ask him what this was about... but if I throw off this practice run, he's for sure going to be super pissed... besides... it's got to just be a prop or a blank piece of paper or something. I can't rock the boat now... not when I'm so close to finally being able to get off and think clearly for once."

"Ruff. Ruff." (Yes)

"Good boy! See, I knew it was the right call not to get you fixed at the vet's. Now, I want you to giving yourself a belly rub while you're signing this, so that our fans out there knows how much it turns you on to be an obedient, slutty puppy. Switch to rubbing with your other hand and take this pen in your right hand."

While Mike was continuing to blindly follow instructions like a loyal pet, Jake held up the thick, many-paged contract so that Marty could capture the front cover for all viewers to see. And on the cover, in large black font, it read "Binding Legal Contract for Voluntarily Lifelong Indenturement"

Flipping to the last page, the Clydesdale grabbed his friend's hand and moved it to the right area and said "Now, give me your best signature, starting right where the pen tip is. And you better make sure to give me the genuine article, or I'll be scheduling you another trip with the vet."

Mike realized that he had been so focused on getting off that he hadn't even been considering giving a fake signature. Still, after over two weeks of being pent up and desperately needy, he was at the finish line! Just this one last thing. 'If I can't trust Jake, who can I trust?'

Taking care to sign it correctly, the slave handed the pen back over to his now lifelong Master, Jake Parker. Taking the pen, the horse carefully set it and the papers aside once he had placed the contract in a generic looking manilla folder. Things were about to get very sticky, after all, and since it was now the most important stack of papers in both Jake's and Michael's life it was worth being extra careful.

With mission critical succesfully accomplished (as far as the Overseer and now officially Master Jake was concerned), the Clydesdale was at last willing to indulge his pet in what would most likely end up being a rare treat for the slave: a genuine orgasm. Reaching down and gripping Michael's knot in hand, the horse asked "It's time to set cutesie euphemisms aside, pup. Are you ready to cum, Tiny?"

"Ruff!! Ruff!!" (Yes!!)

"Then prove it. Work that cock, bitch. Be rough with it. Jerk it as hard as you can. Punish that pathetic stalk while I squeeze your knot. Come on, muscle boy, work that tadpole... prove to everyone that you can take the kind of rough treatment I'm going to be putting you through in the months ahead."

Mike threw self-preservation to the wind as jumped through yet another hoop to reach the release he desperately craved. Gripping his shaft as firmly as he dared, the Doberman jerked himself off as hard and as fast as he could, nearly out of his mind with lust... weeks of stored up jism waiting impatiently inside his artificially enlarged sack.

"Not good enough, slutty puppy. You're hardly even trying. If you want my permission to shoot, you'll need to actually put some effort into it. Get your other hand in the mix and use it to tenderize your balls for me. Come on, bitch, prove your devotion. Make those family jewels pay for getting you into so much trouble. Do it, slut. Punish those eggs for me... and after they're nice and swollen I'll give you permission to cum for your last jerkoff session."

Too overcome with lust and desperate with need to consider the consequences, Mike complied, using his own left hand to physically abuse his balls, tormenting them in a way that no man would ever consider doing during his own, private masturubation sessions.

"Enough with the love taps, Tiny. Those two balls have led you to this point and have basically ruined your life. It's time to make them pay. Put your arm into it. Come on, bitch, you're just seconds away from earning your cumshot... don't let yourself down when you've come so far! You can do it!".

Brow furrowed beneath the blindfold, Mike's jaw clenched as one hand jerked off as quickly as it could while the other one brutalized his own orbs, his body screaming two conflicting messages: Unbelievable pleasure and agonizing pain. And yet, despite this, the slave heard and reacted to his Master's words. His left arm struck again and again with callous disregard to the harm it was inflicting upon the pummeled, oversized eggs, as if it were moving independent of Mike's will or best interest.

For thirty more seconds, the Doberman slave did his best to ignore the intense pain signals his testicals were screaming out, staying focused instead on just one singular objective: Finally getting to shoot his load.

Looking down, the Clydesdale had a front row seat for the most amazing spectacle he'd ever witnessed. There he was... his best bud for life, manhandling himself with both hands because, and only because, Jake had told him to. It was exhilarating. It was intoxicating. It was mesmerizing. And the best part, the new Master realized, is that this was just the beginning.

As for Marty, he couldn't believe what he was recording. 'Is this guy insane?! The horse is right... this guy is a complete slut. If he had any dignity left... any dignity at all, he would have told that hoofed asshole to go fuck himself. Instead, he's going to spend the next day with an icepack on his balls, just because his 'Master' told him to beat up his own sack. Unfucking believable. Even worse for the guy, whether the bitch knows it or not, he owes me an hour for me shooting his little S&M playdate... and I plan on collecting.'

In regards to recording equipment itself, it was performing as exactly as intended, capturing not only every image, but each and every individual sound as well. The groans and heavy breathing. The fleshy (and surprising loud) slaps ringing out throughout the room. The slick, wet sound of a man jerking off his cock while using another guy's spit as lubricant. Everything.

Jake realized that Mike was reaching the end of his rope, energy reserves and swinging force flagging as the pain began to finally break through the mental barriers he'd put up to earn his jizz. It was time.

"Good boy, Tiny! Now, lean up, open your muzzle as wide as you can and point your cock tip at it. Hurry up, pup. You know where puppy cum always has to go, so there's no sense in adding extra, unnecessary steps. Try and get as much of it in your mouth as you can."

Leaning up in a flash, Mike opened his mouth as he brought his head close to his rough-up length, judging the position as best he could since he was still blindfolded. Unconsciously, his left hand continued to gently swat at his balls (now more of a gentle pat than the tortious slaps it had been consistently delivering just moments ago), as if it was running on muscle memory alone, in lieu of conscious instruction.

Seeing that everything was in place, Jake signalled Marty to head over the the side of the couch, so he could get the best possible angle for the cumshot that was mere seconds away. The somewhat stocky Rottweiler hustled into position, finding that he was actually eager to see the spectacle for himself. For a brief instant, he had the presence of mind to be glad that he brought the camera with the second-site datastore option, so that even when he handed over the flash drive to the cheetah, he'd still be able to enjoy the complete, unedited version of this at home whenever he desired after retrieving it from the camera's hidden memory bank.

"Come on, boy, show me a nice big load for your last jerkoff session. Let's get all that canine spunk out of your balls and into your belly! Thatta boy!" Still holding onto Tiny's knot, Jake squeezed as hard as he could in his attempt to simulate virgin tightness for his friend (what are friends for, after all?) while at the same time using his other hand to reach into his pants pocket for the remote control contained therein. Finding it, he flipped the switch while pressing both buttons down simultaneously.

Instantly the Doberman's balls responded to the two wireless commands. Inside Tiny's abused and quickly swelling sack, two avalanches of cream surged alongside one another as they both traveled down the one and only path available -- one river of cum coming from his long-denied testicals and the other river supplied by the artificial cum generators surgically installed around the testicals by Dr. Stone. The result of this being a cumshot of unheard of proportions, turning the canine's not-at-all-impressive cock into a cum fueled super soaker.

Looking through his camera's digital screen, Marty at first refused to believe his eyes. 'That miniature embarrassing slip of a cock is producing all that?!' If this had happened in December, the Rottie would have been marginally more willing to believe it, as he would have just decided to call it a Christmas Miracle. The second thing that caught Marty's attention (as well as the attention of the Rottweiler's cock) was where all that cum was going. 'Actually', Marty thought, 'the better question is where is it not going?'

Having quickly overfilled Mike's still open muzzle in the first three shots (in large part due to the fact the slave was making absolutely no attempt to swallow, overwhelmed by the orgasm that felt like it was tearing its way out of his body), the jizz went wherever its own inertia and gravity took it: All over the Doberman's face, down his chin, all across his chest, and of course onto the couch and the horse that the slave was stretched out on .

Jake, benevolently, didn't mind the white vicious splashback in the slightest as the small white specs of semen coating his recently purchased button-up shirt which were soon absorbed by the fabric in the form of a distributed pattern of wet spots. The Overseer and now Master recognized that he might very well be watching a once in a lifetime event: The last time Tiny the Pet Doberman would be allowed to seek and fulfill self pleasure with his own hand.

Looking down with genuine affection at the panting, prone form in laying across his lap, the Clydesdale was pleased that his childhood friend had made all the right decisions today. Sure, the canine might have been making those particular choices in the pursuit of his own primal self interests and urges, but the finer points of obedience for obedience's sake was a lesson that could be covered at a later date. Though, Jake decided, there was always progress that could be accomplished in there here and now.

Letting go of Mike's knot, the Master used his hand to gently close the dazed canine's muzzle, which had been in the process of leaking dollops of jism onto the slave's chest, trapping what cream remained inside the pet's jaws. With his other hand, Jake unclasped and removed the Doberman's blindfold, whose jumbled and confused mind took many seconds longer than it normally would have needed under ideal conditions to puzzle out just what exactly he was looking at.

At last, the cum-soaked canine's eyes shot wide-open in abject terror as he stared at the Rottweiler standing directly in front of him smiling. Before panic completely shut down his ability for rational thought, Mike noticed three things about the man: His grin, his pants' bulge, and his camera. In response, the puppy could only manage an instinctive swallow.