It took a few lashes to get the pet to move out of the shop and into the carriage. The Master always instructed his staff to be gentle at first, so as to not ruin the skin and spoil all the fun. But this pet wouldn't move, even when the Butler lifted his whip. It didn't seem to know what it meant. There would be time to learn to fear it.
For now, a quick whip to the butt cheeks made its rear tremble, as it cried out and escaped forward, which was enough to get it out to the street and into the carriage.
The Master's carriage was luxurious, painted black on the outside and dark wood and crimson velvet in the inside. It was carried by four magnificent black Percheron horses, commanded by a richly dressed driver.
Once the carriage started to move, the Master lit his pipe and got lost in thought as he looked lazily out the window at the passing by scenery, which became greener as they left the city and entered the fields.
The pet huddled in the opposite corner, as far from the Master as the space would allow. It curled itself up in a tiny ball, facing the window, its long, deep-blue hair flowing over its shoulder and back, reaching the beginning of its naked, pale blue butt cheeks, which had a pinkish undertone where the whip had made contact.
They traveled in silence, on a dirt road that went through farms, bordered a lake and went into a dark forest, to emerge at the bottom of a hill. When the carriage took a right turn into a secondary road, which took them slowly up the hill, the Master extinguished his pipe and packed it into a silver case. He turned to look at his new acquisition, taking in every lock of hair, every inch of soft, peachy skin, every curve of youthful flesh. Its beauty was almost painful. He felt it in his chest, a tightness, like suffocating. Beauty was like a drug to him. He felt the urge to possess it, own it, dominate it. "Don't be weak", he commanded himself as he struggled to calm down from his lust. "Don't rush it, taste it, make it last". It was always over too soon. With a deep breath he managed to direct his thoughts to the upcoming party, as the carriage passed a gate and approached an old, grey stone mansion. Tomorrow would be a long day.
YOU ARE READING
The pet
Short StoryIt's a beautiful specimen. Gorgeous breasts, a slender waist and and ass to die for. Its name? Where I come from, pets don't need a name. They just need to be fed, washed and fucked every now and then to remind them who's in charge.
