Permission

Mike De Marco waits in the cage. Puppy gear locked on: hood, collar, paw pads, and a tail plug wagging behind him. Dallas Steele opens the door, clips the leash, and walks his pup across the floor to the water bowl. Mike drops his muzzle in, drinks too fast, and spills. Dallas grabs the leash tight and spins the pup onto a padded turntable. Oil hits skin first. Dallas rubs it in slow, pets the fur between Mike’s shoulder blades, then slaps his ass when the tail plug starts to wag too eager. The plug comes out. A thick paw-shaped dildo slides in, stretching the pup wider with each deliberate thrust. Mike barks and drools. The dildo comes free; the newspaper rolls up. Three sharp swats land across the same spot. Then the cat-o’-nine-tails whistles down, followed by the riding crop snapping loud. Every strike leaves heat. Dallas trades leather for current. The violet wand crackles over Mike’s spine, sending little shocks that make the pup jerk and whine. Satisfied, Dallas guides him back into the cage, slams the door, and strokes out a thick load that splatters across Mike’s back. Later the leash tugs again. Mike is led straight to Dallas’s cock. He opens wide, gags on the length, spit running down his chin. Dallas bends him over the bench and drives in raw, pounding the pup doggy-style until the table creaks. He flips Mike onto his back, pins his wrists, and keeps drilling. Cock out, into Mike’s mouth, back into his hole—switching holes until Dallas can’t hold it. One last thrust and he pulls free, painting Mike’s face white. They swap the load in a messy kiss, sweat and come dripping between them.