Coarse hands ran over his body like so much meat. They parted his lips and examined his teeth. The judge was so close that Roland could smell the TicTac’s in the man’s mouth. The second judge consulted with him regarding his own findings in hushed tones that were indiscernible over the din of the crowd. The man’s probing hands fondled the inside of the pup’s legs, freshly shaven that morning during the hours of grooming and preparation for the Show. He tugged at the tailplug nestled within the youth’s innards, causing a momentary flinch on Roland’s otherwise determined face.
If his friends could see him now, he thought with a combination of pride and embarrassment, as though such a mix were possible. His hair glossy and perfumed, his skin smooth and oiled. His Owner had even contemplated painting his nails for the event. Pink, no less. Whatever He wanted, of course, but Roland was happy that He had decided against it.
Roland remembered his training and stood perfectly still, his eyes frozen on the suited form of his Owner standing in front of him, his leash held firmly in His hand. They had practiced this scene countless times over the previous weeks: Roland perched precariously on the table placed up against the apartment’s window which overlooked the bustling main street below. All the while his Owner did His best to distract him from his task. Whatever the people there on the street thought would pale in comparison to the judges’ observations at the Show and Roland wanted that award for his Master’s mantle.
And so he stood firm, body taunt and flexed, mind focused on the man in front of him and the reward that would follow a good performance. The thought excited him and had had to fight the urge to smile and wag his tail. There were still a half-dozen other events before the awards ceremony and a dozen other competitors he had to out-shine.
***
Two pics in two weeks. Not too shabby.
No idea what the official name of the dog show is. It does need something posh. I do love an excuse to draw puppies. We’ll probably revisit the show again in the future just because it combines suits and puppy play. 
Special thanks to Roland for ideas, poses, and participation in this project. It is always nice to have a muse on hand to keep me duly inspired.
They were a contrasting pair: Brogan and Majesty. Majesty pranced proudly without the need of a leash to keep him at heel, his coat shining in the afternoon sun. Brogan skulked by his Master’s side, shivering with nerves, his back coated in sweat.
Passers by noticed the pair and clicked pictures or commented to one another.
Brogan was ashamed at his behavior at the door and the red hand print that shone out on his backside displayed what means were necessary to get him moving. He had balked and tug at his lead, horrified at the prospect of going outside with his Master.
Puppy play was indoors only, wasn’t it? And now here he was, groveling at his grinning Master’s side through a public park full of gawking onlookers. Would it never end? Would they never get home?
***
Hooray for awful, sketchy people in the background! There were going to be more people and a park scene. Screw that.
The colors surprised me this time around. I think I actually prefer the stark shadows to the gradient shadows I used previously. The boy’s face is not really what I was hoping for, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t spend a lot of time nitpicking.
“God dammit, boy.” I bellowed, with due frustration. “I told you I’d let you cum this weekend was that not enough for you?”
Martin’s face was still agape and blushing, embarrassed at being caught in the act as much as he was for escaping his chastity cage. It boggled my mind how he managed that, even with his paws on, a deadbolt lock that I’d custom fit for his cage, and a modified cage.
Martin insisted he loved bondage. He loved rope play and being hogtied. He loved puppy play, being denied the use of his hands and forced to crawl. He loved being cuffed to the bed when we made love in the wee hours of the night.
I’m pretty certain that he just loved to escape from bondage and that was his real kink. No sooner would I tie him up than the scamp would have already freed his hand or his foot. I called him my little Houdini.
It was especially frustrating in view of the fact that I was his master. I was supposed to be in charge here! He delighted in defying me, in disobeying when he knew what punishment would follow. Each time I’d lay down the ground rules and each time I would up the ante. Only a few days ago I had flogged his back raw until he was bawling, on the verge of safe-wording.
Who was in charge here? Me? Him? I was at my wits’ end and then I remembered seeing the Leather-Dog Whisperer. A quick 1-800 call put me in touch with Mister X. He’d know what to do!
***
Yes. The Leather-Dog Whisperer is a copyright of Mister X Enterprises. Stay away from my material, FOX, I have a lawyer and know how to use him!
Quickie I drew last night. I just managed to complete it today before I fall into oblivion with the latest Dragon Age game XD
Cheers.


