Date: Wed, 11 Feb 2004 14:39:27 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Dog Pack, Part 3

THE DOG PACK, part 3

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

When Six had finished gobbling up the cake I resumed
my questioning.

Q: From what you say, there are a number of dog owners
around here, then.

6:  Oh, yes.  Some of the station owners keep ponies,
and they sometimes bring them over here and drive them
around in their traps.  But they're a lot more trouble
- you have to buy special harnesses and bits for the
blokes, and there's a constant effort in mucking out
their stables and so on - us dogs mostly keep our
sleeping compartment clean, if we can, but the pony
boys, well, they drip shit all over the place as it's
kind of expected of them.  Dogs area a lot less
trouble.

Q: And are they in packs, like you, or more like pets
or guard dogs, like old six and old seven that you
told me about?

6:  Well, not many owners keep packs like my Owner -
it costs a fortune, what with the kennel maids and the
Trainer to pay. And, of course, there's the cost of
the prey - that must be enormous.  And if you're not
into serious hunting, you don't need a pack, do you?
There's an owner who has the next station to us that
has a superb pair of greyhounds, and he races them
against each other to amuse his friends:  those guys
are so competitive and so keen to beat each other,
that it makes me wonder what he does to incent them to
go at it so hard.  It's certainly not done by
punishment, as their arses and backs are all free from
whip scars and stuff.

Q: Greyhounds?

6: Yes, blokes who're specially trained to run like
the wind.  They're really tall - at least six seven -
with great long legs.  And he keeps them entirely
shaved smooth, so there's not a bit of hair to make
resistance.  And when they're racing they're allowed
to have these tiny racing pouches on that hold their
dicks and balls down so they don't hurt themselves as
they fly along.  They're as alike as two peas in a
pod, and that's why the racing is so exciting - it
really does depend on which one is in the best form at
the time, as almost every other factor has been ruled
out.

Q: You've seen them, then?

6: Oh yes - when they come over here with their owner
and there's a race, our Owner doesn't mind if we come
out of our compound to watch.  And if they're staying
overnight, they sleep with us in our sleeping
compartment - really nice lads they are, and they love
joining in our little night time sports.  The only
problem is that their dicks are in proportion to the
rest of them, and having one of those great long
things up you... well, I expect you can imagine....
But still, they're always ready to take dick, too, and
it makes a change to have a nice smooth body against
you, as we're all hairy as you know.

6: They're quite often here for the hunt, and their
owner lets them join in.  They don't have collars, so
they frequently lose the prey as they charge about at
such speed and there's no way of telling them which
way to run.  Not that it matters much - they're too
tired after the first ten minutes or so:  they start
off like the wind, and easily outpace all of us, but
they don't have the stamina.  They're sprinters, not
capable of the kind of sustained pursuit of the prey
that we are.

6: As I said, they're nice lads.  Not like the bloke
we call the Welsh Terrier.

Q: Who's he?

6: Oh, a dog owned by a friend of the Owners.  We got
into big trouble last time...  This dog is about five
foot six, very slightly built but quite nicely toned
and well proportioned.  But he's a Welshman, and you
know what these little Welshmen are like: pugnacious,
always arguing with you, very ready to pick a fight.
We don't like him much, and we always try to stay out
of the way of him.  But the last time there was a
hunt, there he was, running around all the riders and
us as we waited for the prey to be brought around, and
we got fed up of him.  We told him to shut up, but he
kept on, and Four really lost his temper, and that's
unusual for Four as he's a placid kind of bloke.  Told
the Welsh Terrier that if he didn't leave us alone
with  the hunters, and go off and play by himself,
he'd be in for it.  Well, the Welsh Terrier isn't the
sort of bloke to do that, and he told Four, in quite a
loud voice, to go and fuck himself!  Some of the
ladies on their horses were shocked, I can tell you,
to hear such coarse language.  We're always very
careful ourselves - in the compound we don't mind
calling a fucker a fucker, but not in front of the
Owner's guests, especially if they're ladies.  Four
wasn't going to stand for that, was he, so he slapped
the Welsh Terrier hard, once on each bum, and told him
to watch his language.  The next minute the Welsh
Terrier went for poor Four, arms flailing, trying to
punch him.


6: Well, Four's about a foot taller and eighty pounds
heavier than the Welsh Terrier, so he simply held the
little guy at arms length and began to laugh.  The
Welsh Terrier then started calling Four every name
under the sun, and it was clearly distressing the
ladies. So Four picked him up and kind of threw him
down on to the ground, then threw himself on top of
him, to shut him up. Instead of just taking it, the
Welsh Terrier continued to struggle, and even tried to
pull Four's balls off - that did it, and Four lost it,
and simply fucked the Welsh Terrier.  As I said,
Four's a gentle bloke, but when he's roused, well,
you'd better watch it!  He fucked the Terrier really
hard, and the language soon changed to screams and
shouts as Four's dick ploughed into him.  The Welsh
Terrier's owner, who'd done nothing to control his dog
up until now, came over and started beating at Four's
back and bum with his riding crop, shouting at Four to
leave his dog alone.  It was really comical, as the
Terrier's owner is a short fat guy, and he simply
couldn't put enough power behind the riding crop to
make any difference at all to Four, and Four simply
fucked away.

6: When Four pulled out - it was only a short fuck -
you'd have thought the Terrier would have had enough,
but he then started punching Seven, who was the
nearest of us to him.  And so Seven simply swept the
feet away from under the Terrier, then when he was
down, proceeded to give him a good fucking too!  The
ladies and gentlemen were all laughing by this time to
see such sport, and the Terrier's owner gave up and
simply stalked off.  When Seven was done, he pulled
the Terrier to his feet, slapped his arse several
times and told him to run off and find his Owner.

6: Although all the guests were  delighted, that night
there was hell to pay in the kennels - the Owner and
Trainer were furious with us all, as they said we
ought to be mature enough to be able to deal with a
silly little runt like the Welsh Terrier.  His owner
had really complained to our Owner, and so we all
needed punishing:  not just Four and Seven, but all of
us.  The whole pack is, after all, responsible for the
behaviour of its members.  We all got a good stinging
from the Trainer -  it really hurt, as he wasn't
messing about and turned the power up. Then the Owner
used his whip on us - we had to kneel down as if we
were going to be fed, then he went down the line of
our arses, two strokes for each dog, enough to draw
blood.  And we didn't get any dinner either. Actually,
although the stinging was the most painful and we were
all writhing around in agony, the whipping from our
Owner was the worst, as he's not usually like that:
we knew we must really have offended him, by making
him appear to be an owner who can't control his dogs.
 Anyway, at least when the Welsh Terrier comes here
now he minds his manners, and he mostly ignores us
hunting dogs and lurks around next to his owner.

(I wanted to hear more about the other dogs in the
area, but I sensed that six was tiring - I suspected
that he wasn't used to having long conversations as we
had, and probably spent a lot of time just exchanging
short sentences with his peers.  After all, what would
the eight of them have to talk about - they were
hardly likely to debate philosophy, and they couldn't
discuss the latest movies, or restaurants, or
boyfriends!  I therefore decided to move on).

Q:  So tell me about he puppy, Six, in your own time.

6: Well, our Owner really only has us as his hunting
pack - he doesn't bother with other dogs around the
place as some owners do.  And  we mostly come here in
our early twenties - I think I mentioned to you that
Five is the youngest of us, as he's twenty, and that's
unusual. You need a certain strength to be a hunter,
as in the final throw you have to be able to overcome
the prey and subdue him enough to be able to fuck him,
and that strength doesn't really come until you're a
bit older.  But about a year ago the Owner decided
that it might be fun to have a young pup around the
place, and so he went to the dealers and found one who
might grow up into being a useful general dog around
here, for acting as a watch dog for when we're all
locked up in our sleeping compartment, and so on.
It's too difficult to pick up a pup who's going to
grow up to be suitable for the pack, as the Owner's
standards are so high and we all have to be perfectly
matched, as I've told you.

6: Anyway, we were all just back from an afternoon's
exercise - we'd been swimming, as I recall, and we
were all frolicking around and generally enjoying
life: although the swimming's tough and the Trainer
makes us keep at it, we all like it and so it doesn't
seem so much like hard work - when the carrier arrived
and the men unloaded a big case.  The Trainer left us
to our own devices, and we started an impromptu game
of ball, whilst he went off to investigate.  Inside
the case, which he prised open, was a travelling cage
with the puppy inside.  He wasn't too cramped, not
like when I'd been brought here, as he looked to be
quite slim and so there was a lot more room for him.

6: The Trainer opened the cage, pulled the pup to his
feet, and got him out.  He looked to be about sixteen
(and indeed, he was, as we found out later), and he
was a typical sixteen year old skate boarder - tall
for his age, relatively well built with the promise of
better things to come later, and wearing the typical
boarders "uniform" - baseball cap turned backwards,
sweatshirt,  baggy, low-cut Jeans which he wore slung
right down on his hips so that we could see the
waistband of his Calvin's, and trainers on his feet.
He took one look around, saw all us dogs who until a
moment ago had been playing, and freaked out.  He
started shouting at the Trainer about being caged up,
threatening to call the cops, and saying he wasn't
staying around a bunch of perverts.  We were all a bit
surprised by this as there aren't any perverts here -
the Owner would never allow such a thing.  The
Trainer, who's a big guy himself, told him to shut up,
but when the pup went on compiling, the Trainer simply
cuffed him around the head:  not too hard, just a
gentle tap, really, although the "slap" resounded
around the exercise yard.

6: The pup shut up abruptly.  I don't think anyone had
ever hit him before, so he wasn't used to discipline.
He stood there in shock, and the Trainer called me
over.  He turned to the pup and said "This is Six.
He's going to look after you for the first couple of
weeks.  Listen to him, do what he says - he really
knows the ropes, and if you pay attention to what he
says, it will be a lot easier for you."  I could see
the pup simply staring at me as if there was something
wrong! Sure, I was all sweaty as we'd been playing,
and there was a lot of dirt on my coat where I'd just
been tackled during the ball game and had rolled
around a bit on the ground.  But I was smiling at him,
trying not to frighten him or anything, and I didn't
see why he carried on looking at me like that.  "Now,
Six", the Trainer went on, "You look after this pup.
The Owner specially asked me to get you to do it, as
you're a sensible fellow and he knows you're good with
youngsters.  Remember, he's only a pup and you can't
expect him to join in with you all in all the things
you do together as he's not strong enough, or tough
enough to do miles of running. Keep those randy pack
mates of yours away from him for a bit, too, until
he's settled down - we think he's not been with other
dogs, and the Owner doesn't want him damaged and
needing the vet to sew him up if his anus is abused.
Make sure he gets his proper share of the food, too -
you know how excited all you dogs get when there's a
bit more food on offer, and it's to go to him, not to
be wolfed down by the rest of you.  OK, Six?   Think
of how hard it was when you came here, and you were a
properly grown dog, not a pup like him. Look after
him."

6: I said yes, of course, and I was really pleased
that the Owner had asked me to do this.  Some of the
other dogs would have said they'd do it, but wouldn't
really do it very well. I wanted my Owner to know I
was really trustworthy, and I was going to make a good
job of it.  Actually, I think the Owner was also being
good to me in another way - I'd just been deposed as
top dog by Three, and was still moping a bit about my
loss of status, and missing the little extras and so
on.  The Owner knew that this would give me something
to re-focus on: it just shows how well he knows us
dogs and understands the pack dynamics.  The Trainer
told me to take him off to the kennel maids as they
had been told how the Owner wanted him trimmed, so I
smiled at him and said "Come on, young pup, follow
me..."

6: Well, he just stood there.  So I put my hand around
his left bicep to lead him, and he shook me off.  I
tried again, and he started shouting "Leave me
alone... Let go... Fucking don't touch me, pervert."
I couldn't have that, could I?  Even though I was no
longer top dog, I was number two, and I deserved
respect.  So, still holding on to his arm, I soundly
spanked his arse two or three times, rather as you see
some parents doing to tiny children who are
misbehaving - it doesn't hurt all that much through
their clothes, and the angle's all wrong for a hard
blow, but it's the shock effect.  He looked utterly
stunned, and shut up.  "You hit me!", he said, rather
obviously.  "Yes, and I'm bigger and tougher and
stronger than you, and if you continue to behave like
a silly kid, I'll hit you again, and again, until
you've learned some respect.  Now, come with me...."

6: I led him off, still firmly holding his bicep to
show I was in control, and he came quite meekly.
We went in to the kennel maids' area, but they were
not there yet.  But I knew he had to be got ready for
them, so I said, calmly and quietly, "Undress,
please".  I could have just ordered him to "strip"
curtly, but I was trying to be nice.  Several of the
other dogs had followed us in and were standing there
watching, and he looked terror stricken - like a
rabbit caught in the glare of a headlight.  I shouted
at the others to leave, then said, quietly again, "Now
there's just the two of us, please undress.  I don't
want to have to tear the clothes off you, so just
remove everything."

6: He almost whimpered "No, it's not right...".  I
could see he was very upset, so instead of just going
ahead and pulling his clothes off, I reasoned with
him. "Now, there's just the two of us, and I'm not
wearing clothes.  All the other dogs here don't wear
clothes, so there's no harm in you taking yours off,
is there?  You'll be a lot more comfortable once you
get used to it, and our Owner likes his dogs to be
nice and clean, and we need to get you cleaned up,
young pup."
He almost whined in reply "No, please... Don't make
me.  And I'm not a dog, I'm not a pup... My name's
Mark....".  "No, pup, you're not called Mark any more.
 Our Owner might give you a name in due course, or you
might get a number in the pack like me - see, I'm Six
(actually, that's not right, as I knew he could never
be in the pack.  But I wanted to give him something to
aspire to).  And I'm afraid that if you don't start
undressing soon, I will have to make you, as the Owner
has entrusted your care to me.  You're not
embarrassed, are you?  You look like a good-looking,
well hung pup to me - look, if it makes it any easier,
why don't you just pretend that you're changing for
gym or something back at school, and pull off your
shirt, drop your trousers... Come on, pup... Don't
keep me waiting."

6: Well, he did then, very slowly, and stood in front
of me in his Calvins.  He did have a nice body, and I
could see there was lots of promise there with proper
training, although he still had that look of a young
guy just on the cusp of manhood.  I could tell from
the wisps of hair on his chest, and the faint treasure
trail across his belly, that he must be properly
mature, though. "Come on, pup.  Drop those shorts -
around here dogs and pups don't wear clothes.".  He
stood there, not moving, so I went and stood next to
him put my arm around his waist so that he couldn't
move away, and then used my other hand to gently tease
the elastic waistband of his Calvins down over his
hips, then let them slide down his legs so that he was
naked.  I took special care to stretch the waistband
as it went over his dick, so that he wasn't in any
discomfort, and I saw that it was nicely in proportion
to the rest of his body, and slung underneath was a
good set of balls, gently swaying in their sac.  He
still had a 'skin, and I wondered if I should tell him
then that he was going to lose that when he was
docked, but decided not to - let things take their
course.  He obviously wasn't going to be in our pack,
though, however long and hard he trained, as his pubic
hair was a darkish blond, shading to brown to match
his head hair.

6: "There", I said, "See, it's not really a problem,
is it?  Now we're just a dog and a pup together.  Now
just stand quietly and wait for the kennel maids - it
will feel a bit odd at first having them wash you and
shave you, but they do it to all of us and I can
assure you they know what they're doing.  The maids
came in at that point, and the pup's hands flew to
cover his manhood.  "Hi, Six", they said cheerily.
"Is this the pup you're looking after?  Standard
treatment has been ordered for him... He's not going
to give us any trouble, is he?".  I assured them that
the pup would behave, but of course he didn't.  As
soon as the shower water went on and they came towards
him with a wash cloth, he tried to bolt.  He was no
match for me, though, as I'm really good at running
after and catching prey, and I simply scooped him off
the ground and carried him back into kennel maids
across my shoulder - I felt his cock and balls
pressing into my shoulder blade, and I gave his arse a
couple of quick slaps as he lay there, and he
scrabbled feebly at my lower back with his hands as I
did this.  I actually held him while they washed him -
first I put a kind of "Nelson" hold in him and pressed
his back into my front whilst they washed his face,
body, dick and balls.  He tried to squirm and wriggle
away as they pushed his 'skin back to get at any smeg
that had built up, and I could see why our Owner had
us docked as it wasted so much time.  Then I flipped
him around and held his front against mine by wrapping
my arms around him just under his armpits, so they
could make a good job of pulling his bum cheeks apart
and thoroughly washing in there.  I let him go, and he
just stood there, almost as if in shock, as I meekly
presented myself for washing in the usual way
(including of course bending over and making my arse
available for cleaning, to save them trouble).

6: Shaving his face was easy, as he only had a lad's
fine down there, but when they wanted to trim his
pubes and shave his balls, he made another run for it.
 I'd had enough - after I'd carried him back in, both
of us all wet and dripping, I sat down, put him over
my knees, and gave him a good hard spanking - and with
my strength, that's very hard.  I made him apologise
to the kennel maids, which he did with a very bad
grace, and then when he was lying on their table, and
they were about to begin, I leapt up onto it,
straddled him and almost sat down so my arse was on
his chest - I took most of my weight on my knees, of
course, as I didn't want to hurt him.  My dick was
hanging just above his face, and I said "This is what
happens, young pup, when I can't trust you - I'm going
to hold you here while they make your balls nice and
smooth like mine, and trim that pubic hair of yours
down to a respectable patch, just like I've got.  All
of this could have been much simpler if you'd just
co-operate.  It's going to happen to you anyway, so
just learn to accept it - I wouldn't let them do
anything to you that harmed you, or hurt you, OK?"  He
pushed his face to one side, not even trying to answer
my question, and I thought about really doing
something to him to shock him out of his arrogance
once and for all - my dick was, after all, hanging
over his face and it would be easy enough just to piss
on him: that's always a good way to subdue prey that's
a bit uppity, we find.  But I decided that he was
already upset, and I had been told to treat him
kindly, so I let it pass.

6: He was sullen and silent when the girls trimmed his
hair, but afterwards he looked much better - he was
more like a proper pup with just the fuzz they left
and he looked a lot "harder" somehow.  I thought he
was getting better, but when the Trainer appeared to
collar him, he started snivelling and trying to run
away all over again.  The trainer was kind and gentle,
too - he had me sit down then sit the pup down on to
me and wrap my arms around his waist to hold him in
position - he felt soft and silky-smooth as his arse
and balls pressed down onto my dick, and I could tell
the kennel maids had done a good job on cleaning him
and shaving him down there, but he didn't seem to like
it one bit, even though I only had half an erection
and wasn't pressing up into him hardly at all.  The
trainer measured him for his collar, and then allowed
a lot extra as the pup's neck would naturally thicken
as he trained in the next few weeks and as he matured
generally, and then he used the collaring tool to
close it around his neck as usual.  I stood the pup up
and ran my finger around the inside of his collar and
his neck, enjoying the swelling of his Adam's apple as
he swallowed nervously as I did.  "Thank the Trainer,
pup, for doing a great job on this collar - there's no
rough part of any kind, so it won't chafe you at all.
And I think you owe the kennel maids a big apology too
- you made their work a lot harder, and they've got
enough to do with us eight dogs to groom, and now you
as well.  Look, you're almost one of us now - naked,
trimmed, collared:  once you've been in the sun a bit
and that white patch around your middle has darkened,
you'll be a proper pup, fit to be seen with us dogs."
He didn't speak, though, so I thanked the Trainer and
the girls on his behalf, and led him back out to join
the other dogs.

6: They all cheered when they saw him, and came
bounding over.  Young Five was really enthusiastic - I
think he hoped we'd stop thinking of him as the baby
in the pack now - and fell on his knees so he could
wrap his arms around the pup's bum and really get his
nose stuck in for a first scent of the pup.  But his
spontaneous gesture of welcome to the pack really
upset the pup, and he seemed terrified, so I slapped
Five on the side of his face, and told him to leave
the pup alone for the time being.   I took him off
under the shade of one of the trees and gestured to
the rest of the pack to stay away.  I pulled the pup
close to me, and said "Now listen, it's time for you
to understand what's what here.  You're a dog now,
property of our Owner.  You've got his collar on you,
and I expect that soon he'll have you marked with his
name and phone number, just as I and all the other
dogs in the pack are.".  I showed him my tattoo on my
shoulder, and went on "So it's time to stop being
stupid.  All of the pack here will try to help as it
must be difficult for a young guy to adjust, but when
someone like young Five tries to be friendly, you'd do
well to respond properly and not try to jerk away like
that.  Scent is very important to us dogs, as you'll
find out.  So now I'm going to smell you, so that I
can recognise you in the dark tonight.  Come here..."

6: I put my arm around the shoulders of the pup so
that he would feel secure, and lowered my head to
nuzzle his pubes.  I licked gently at his balls, then
separated his thighs a little and licked and sniffed
delicately along towards his hole - he stirred in my
arms, and moaned gently.  Finally, I squeezed around
his dick head very gently so as not to alarm him, then
when the head popped out from his 'skin, lapped at it,
savouring the fresh taste of young cock.  I noticed a
little ball of pre-cum squeeze its way out of his piss
slit, and let the tip of my tongue just brush it away.
 I raised my head, and said "There, that wasn't so
bad, was it.  Now it's your turn, pup : you've got to
learn to recognise me - get down and do the same to me
as I've just done to you."  He looked panic stricken
again, and said "No, please, sir, don't make me do
that... It's disgusting..."

6: Well, he had to be corrected, didn't he?  So I told
him that I was Six, not sir - we don't stand on
formality in the pack, even though I was a lot older
than him..  And that in no way was it disgusting - all
us dogs scented each other like that.  And he really
had to learn to do it, so I put my hand on the back of
his neck, above his collar which was of course still
loose as he hadn't grown yet, and gently pushed him
down into my crotch.  He didn't seem to want to sniff
deeply, or to lick me, so I had to be a bit stern and
squeeze his neck to let him know that I was in
control, but at last he did.  Mind you, when I let him
go free, he seemed very upset so I pulled him to me
and wrapped my arms around him, to make him feel
secure.

6: He started to almost sob.  "Please, Six, don't do
this to me.  I don't go with men..."  Well, that was
OK then, wasn't it, so I told him not to worry.  None
of the men here would go with us dogs - not the Owner,
not the Trainer, nor the guards - none of them.
They're not perverts, are they, to want to fuck with
dogs?  But the other blokes in the pack, that's
different - we're a  close knit functioning unit, and
all of us dogs obviously enjoy each others' bodies.
That set him off again, and he said he wanted to go
home, to get out of here.  So I told him the truth:
"Look, pup, this is your home now, here with the Owner
on his station.  I don't know if he's going to have
you around the house as a house dog, or if he's going
to let you run free with us in the hunting pack, but
either way this station is your home, and you're not
going to leave it."  I explained about the perimeter
fence, and the collar, and explained how the Owner and
Trainer basically let us run free except when we were
exercising and training, or hunting.  "It's a really
good life", I told him, "And you'll soon get used to
it.  I expect you'll find it a lot more interesting
than being back in England..."

6: He told me his life story, then, and I felt really
sorry for him.  His mom had died when he was nine, and
his father brought him up after that, and as so often
happens when there's a dad and a son, they got quite
close.  Then when the pup was fifteen, his dad met and
married a young girl, only eighteen.  She took a
dislike to the pup, and poisoned his dad's mind
against him.  When she got pregnant, she insisted that
the pup be sent away, into Council care, as she didn't
want him around when the baby was born. That's when
the Owner's agents found him - he was about to be
shipped off to a children's home, which, as we all
know, isn't a good place for a sixteen year old lad.
It was lucky, really, that he was spotted, and brought
here, as now at least there were a bunch of blokes who
really cared for him.  I tried to make him see that he
was really a lucky pup, but he just wouldn't agree.

6: "Look, pup, it really doesn't matter what you think
now - the proof of the pudding's in the eating, and in
a couple of weeks you'll feel very different, I tell
you.  Now - come on, it's feeding time and those that
aren't there, miss out."  The other dogs were really
kind to him that first feeding -  I had to slap a
couple of bums to make them open up a space in the
centre of the trough for the pup, and at first he
didn't seem to want to kneel there with the others -
well, I can understand why: before I knelt opposite
him I took a look and it did look a bit odd - the dark
brown muscular bums of the regular pack, and there, in
the middle, the much thinner, deadly white bum of the
pup!  The kennel maids came out with the food and
poured it in to the trough, and I almost cried when I
saw how kind the other dogs were - they knew the pup
was having a hard time, and they pushed all the nice
little bits down towards him, so he got the best of
everything that night - a piece of blood sausage, the
lovely white meaty bit of a rabbit's back, and a pair
of kidneys from one of the sheep from the station.  He
didn't seem to want to eat, though, but it was easy
for me, as my face was opposite him, to tell him that
he'd got to, to get his strength up, and that if he
didn't I go over there and spank him.  Well, actually,
l wouldn't have done that, would I, as if I'd moved
from the trough all the other dogs would have scoffed
my portion instantly, but he didn't know that.

6: After we'd been fed, it was time to be cleaned up
and we joined the others, even though the kennel maids
had groomed us once already.  Somehow he didn't seem
to mind so much this time - perhaps it was having all
the other dogs there with the kennel maids, so it
wasn't such a one-on-one as it had been earlier.  But
I noted that I'd have to have a word with him
afterwards, as even though he could see how all the
other dogs bent over and opened their arses to make
the maid's job easier, he still didn't do it and they
had to really struggle to get the wash cloth into his
bum crack.

6: In the sleeping compartment that night he looked at
the small space and all the dogs crowding in, and at
the straw on the floor, and started to look panicked
again.  I put my arm around his shoulders and led him
over and pulled him down next to me near the wall,
then, when the door was shut and locked and the lights
went out, I called out and told all the other dogs
that they were not to touch the pup that night.  He
didn't seem to like my body against him at first, but
I pulled him close to me and wrapped my arms around
him to make him feel secure.  Well, I didn't fuck him
that night, as I thought he needed to rest, although I
had a raging erection as his slim bum nestled in my
crotch, and at some point I kind of opened his legs so
that my cock could get between his thighs, to make
myself more comfortable.  In the middle of the night I
realised he was awake, and as my hand moved down over
his belly, he too was erect. I went to stroke his
dick, but he tried to move away and gripped my wrist
to stop me.  I turned him over so we were facing each
other, and his dick was stabbing into my belly (I
lodged mine  again between his thighs, under his balls
- I thought the comforting heat of my dick against his
arse hole would be nice for him).  "Now, pup", I
whispered as I didn't want to disturb the others
(although some were awake, as I could hear a couple of
them fucking), "You've got to get your sleep in.  And
you can't sleep with an erection like that.  Now, are
you going to wank yourself, or shall I do it?"  Well,
he did it himself, and his semen shot all over my
belly, but I didn't mind - I was only thinking bout
the pup's comfort.  I told him to hold his thigh
together then while I rocked backwards and forwards,
and I soon shot my load, too, and then we slept.

6: As we waited to have the door unlocked the next
morning, he told me he was bursting for a piss, and I
explained that he could go ahead, but that we all
tried to wait. "This is the first day of your new
life, pup", I told him, "So try to enjoy it!  Watch
what I do, see how the other dogs behave, and try to
fit in."  Well, he was bursting to piss!  Even though
he didn't seem to like pissing in a big group, he was
able to let fly a big stream that really impressed us
all. Then when the Trainer arrived, he accompanied us
on our morning run.  I was surprised that he could
keep up with us - the Trainer had brought his trainers
out so that his feet were not hurt - but afterwards
the pup told me he used to do cross-country at school,
and that he was used to doing seven miles.  I think
that got him a lot of respect from all the other dogs,
and I saw Five standing next to him and then reach
down and massage the pup's balls, telling him that we
were all sore at first as you need to get used to
running without a jock strap or shorts.

6: Well, after that, he seemed to fit in quite quickly
- the other dog all liked him, and he soon got to know
them.  I insisted he started to learn all our scents
that second day, and by the end of the week he could
do it with some degree of accuracy.  I took his
virginity on that second night - well, I mean, there's
no point in waiting for the inevitable, is there?  He
was probably all worried inside about it, so the
sooner he got it over with, the better. As Five had
taken such an interest in him I called Five over and
made him wank himself to give us some lube, then I
really took a lot of care with massaging and
stretching the pup's hole before I slid into him.
And, yes, I know that the other dog think I'm a big,
hard, insensitive fucker, but I can be gentle when I
want to, and that time I really was.  As we lay
together afterwards, covered in sweat, I kissed him
very gently, and was really pleased to feel him
respond, with his tongue thrashing around with mine in
my mouth.  As a reward I made Five kneel down and
stick his arse in the air, then helped the pup to his
first real sex - I guided the pup's dick into Five,
then knelt behind him and had my hands on his hips,
pulling and pushing him in and out.  Five's not a bad
dog, actually, and he co-operated a lot - I think he
squeezed his arse muscles to give the pup as much
pleasure as possible, and as the pup finally shouted
"Oh, God, I'm coming...", all the other dogs gave him
a big cheer.

6: Well, that's it about the pup, really - he's our
Owner's favourite now, and follows him around
everywhere.  But when the Owner's away, he always
comes and sleeps in the sleeping compartment with us.
We all really like him, and even though he's not a
proper member of the pack, he joins in with us really
well.  He never turns down the opportunity to take a
dick or to suck one, and he's turned into a really
enthusiastic fucker - well, I suppose at his age you
are, aren't you?

(I could see Six looking out of the window as we were
speaking, and saw all the other dogs gambolling around
in their yard, then line up at the feeding trough.  It
was clear Six's mind was on his supper, so I said "Go
on then, Six, off to your dinner...", and with that
lithe grace he has,  he was on his feet, and bounded
out of the windows to join his pack).

That ends the transcript of my conversation with one
of the pack animals at my Host's station. The
following day he invited me to ride out with him, and
we were both mounted on our horses when a stunningly
handsome young man raced around the corner, stopped by
my Host's horse, and kissed his riding boot.  My Host
cracked the man affectionately on his naked shoulders
with his riding crop, and we set off for our ride,
with  the man racing ahead, then coming back to us,
then racing off, again,  and again.  He had probably
the best young man's body I've ever seen - lean yet
muscular, broad shouldered, slim waisted, perfectly
rounded bum giving onto long, muscular thighs - he was
a joy to behold from the back as he raced away from
us.   And when he came back, his broad chest with its
big dark aureoles, washboard stomach leading down to a
long, meaty cock on top of free- swinging balls made a
sight equally delicious.

"My pup's turned out well, don't you think?", my Host
asked me.

"Is that the lad Six was telling me about?"

"Yes - Six did a good job at breaking him, and then
supervising his training and so on.  He settled in
really well, and we didn't even have a problem when I
had him docked - I can't stand foreskins on display,
you know - as Six took him to one side and explained
it all.  I'm going to have a problem, though - I'm
selling the pup, and I think Six will be really
upset."

"Selling him - such a splendid animal, he's a joy to
behold..."

"Yes, but it's not fair on him, or on the other dogs.
It's OK on a day like today when I'm here and I can
exercise him, but he's left alone too much with the
servants, and he really needs an Owner who can devote
more time to him.  I know he plays with the pack then,
but it's unsettling for them - he's such a desirable
piece of arse for them to fuck that it upsets their
hierarchy and everything.  Anyway, I've had a really
good offer from a friend who specialises in show dogs
- he saw the pup and thinks he's a champion: he
believes that next year, when he's finally finished
putting on his full adult muscle, there won't be
anything to touch him the Australian Championships."

(We chatted on, but unfortunately I had to take my
leave later that day to get back to London for the
international symposium, and there was no time to
interview Six further.).


AUTHOR'S NOTE

I came across this original of my letter to "The
Journal" as I was clearing out some papers the other
day, and was amused to reflect on how it had radically
changed my life.  On publication, I was roundly set up
on by the fellow members of my profession for
producing a hoax, a fabrication, a fantasy.  They
simply would not accept that my dialogue with Six was
as it had been, and my professional reputation was in
ruins.  I was asked to resign from the Society, and
lost my teaching post at the University.  News of the
scandal spread to the national press, and those awful
cheap, low-class sheets in which the British so
delight picked up on it and called me "Mad Dog
Professor" and the like.  On TV talk shows comedians
would come on and make mock growling noises, and talk
about me having gone "barking mad".

I was challenged to reveal the name of the Owner, my
host, and the location of the station in the Outback,
but of course my professional ethics - yes, I still
had them, in spite of the attitude of my profession
generally - prevented me from doing so.

On a visit to London, my former host asked me to
dinner to thank me for the way in which I was dealing
with this crisis, and we had a lively discussion about
matters of human psychology generally.  The upshot of
this was that he invited me back to the station, as he
wanted me to watch his next video conference about a
major deal, and then advise him on the real
motivations of those involved.  He was so astonished
at the insights that I was able to give him into the
behaviour that I saw exhibited, that he offered me a
long term contract to be his advisor on such matters,
which I accepted:  compared with my academic salary, I
am now extremely rich.

Much of my work takes place in the big house on the
station, where my employer prefers to spend his time,
but I have my own bungalow only half a mile away,
within the perimeter fence. I also have a luxurious
penthouse apartment in Melbourne, a floor below my
employer's, where we spend about one or two days a
week on those meetings that require his physical
presence.  I've told you I am a keen horseman, and my
employer generously allows me to keep my hunters in
his stable, and to join that select band who he
invites to his hunts.  It truly is exciting to see the
pack in full cry after a human prey, and I can
understand why my employer is prepared to spend so
much money in maintaining the pack and in securing the
tough, wily men who we hunt.

I saw Six in the pack, of course, and he always seemed
to give me a special smile as he evidently remembered
our conversation as something out of the ordinary in
his life.  My employer consulted me about his
behaviour shortly after my arrival, though, as Six no
longer seemed to be as happy as usual - my employer
thought that this was connected with the sale of "the
pup", to whom Six had a special attachment, and I
suggested that this was probably true:  Six had
started to treat the pup as his own progeny, as he was
unable to form a close bond with the pup he had sired
as he had described to me.  The sale of the pup would
therefore be specially cruel for Six, and that had
sent him into a decline that had hastened his fall to
the bottom dog in the pack.

My employer expended much effort to find a good home
for Six as he had located a replacement dog - a young
SEAL in Annapolis had been spotted with exactly the
right combination of height, body mass,  and hair
colour, together with the deep black eyes that are so
necessary.  However none of my employer's friends
wanted to take Six, as they had seen the rough, but
careful, way he treated the junior members of the pack
when he had been top dog - you'll have read that Six
was keen to slap and cuff, although never to cause
permanent harm.  Mothers simply did not believe that
he might not do that to their children.

It therefore looked as if Six would have to be sold to
a farmer, as a dog for rounding up sheep, and I knew
that he would hate that.  His life would be one of
constantly running around obeying his owner's
commands, but there would be no companionship in the
pack in the evenings, as sheep dogs are kept singly.
I advised my employer that this was a potential
disaster, and he said that perhaps the kindest thing
to do then would be to have Six put down.  A better
solution presented itself, however, and I offered to
buy Six as my own dog, as when I went out riding alone
in the morning, I remembered how good it was to have a
dog scampering alongside, and of course they are so
useful if you do take a pot shot at a pheasant or a
rabbit, as they can chase away and retrieve the dead
animal for you.

Six was installed in my bungalow, and I made the
smallest bedroom into his kennel, providing him with a
comfortable pad to sleep on, and a blanked to cover
him as he would not have  the warmth of the other dogs
around him.  Like all dogs, though, he soon began
taking liberties and started to sleep outside the door
of my own bedroom, then on his blanked at the foot of
my bed.  He says it's good, though, as whenever he
wants to piss he no longer has to wait to be unlocked
- I've had a big "dog door" fitted and he can crawl
thorough whenever he wants to relieve himself in his
very own sand pt.  His tattoo proved a bit of a
nuisance, as it required laser treatment to erase his
former owner's name and phone number, before mine
could be substituted, but Six bore it bravely.

He doesn't have a bad life, actually  - although he
lives alone in my bungalow, he's near enough to the
main house to be able to join in pack activities on
occasion, and there's nothing he likes more than to
jog over there to join in the morning piss, and run.
I've also noticed him sloping off on those afternoons
when the pack is going swimming in the river - that's
a particular favourite activity of his. I also let him
come with me when my employer invites me to a hunt -
he knows enough to stay out of the pack's way then,
and wouldn't dream of trying to beat them to the prey,
but he loves the "thrill of the chase" and often
arrives at the prey just as the second or third dog is
fucking it.  He always tries to get into the pack
sleeping compartment that night, as he's a sort of
"honorary member" and is allowed to fuck the prey
after the pack has finished with it.

I was expecting a problem when I finally decided that
I was going to fuck Six's wonderful arse myself.
After all, you can't have a perfect piece of man flesh
constantly around you all the time and not want to do
that, can you?  I remembered how Six thought that an
owner fucking his dog was a "perversion", but I'm not
a celebrated psychologist for nothing - I worked away
at Six for a week or so, convincing him that we were
now a pack, a pack of two, and that I was the top dog,
and consequently all his training and conditioning mad
it easy for me to take him. I cheated a bit, though -
I made him lie on his back and took him in the
missionary position that first time:  not only was it
particularly humiliating for him to have to lie on his
back to be fucked (dogs lie on their backs when they
have given in after a fight), but of course I as able
to penetrate harder and further than I would have if I
had used the conventional "dog" position, which was
the only one he had been allowed to use by my
employer.  He therefore had an exaggerated impression
of my ability to fuck, and confirmed that I was indeed
the dominant male.

I'm gradually teaching him a bit more about life - for
example, when  I go to Melbourne I sometimes take him
with me.  He enjoys the helicopter ride, but grumbles
constantly as he has to wear shorts and a T for the
transfer between the heliport and my apartment, and
for when he uses the gym and pool in the building.
I've got really attached to him, and I know he
worships me, as a dog should.  One night, after dinner
when I was sitting looking out over the city, Six came
and sat on the floor at my feet and rested his head in
my lap, as usual sniffing for my scent.  "You know,
master", he said, "I love to come with you, but I wish
you'd leave me on the station as I don't really like
the city...".

"No, Six, a dog's place is with his master.  You just
feel comfortable at the station, because of the
perimeter fence.  You used to think that it was to
keep you in, but in fact it's to keep the world out,
to stop it interfering with your little self-contained
universe.  You can do it, Six - you're a tough, brave,
fierce dog, and by my side, you can face anything out
here in the real world."

He gave a little sigh of contentment, and we sat there
together, watching the sunset.

THE END.