Dogsbody

Klavier swept his hair out of his eyes and scrubbed the last hubcap with the sponge. The warmth of the sun was slowly fading as afternoon turned to evening, and he was starting to notice. The fact that his denim chaps were now damp in places wasn’t helping. He threw the sponge back in the bucket, picked up the hose and began to rinse Mr. Armando’s car.

He wondered again about his owner. As menial tasks went, washing his car wasn’t a bad one – he’d half-expected to have to do something like this no matter who bought him. But Mr. Armando had been all for fondling him earlier, and Klavier was convinced that he’d been getting sexual kicks out of their game of guide dog. After telling him to wash his car, Mr. Armando had gone inside and hadn’t come out since. Klavier had expected him to at least stand back and eye his ass while he worked. Klavier had glanced over his shoulder at the windows of the house a few times but hadn’t seen any indication that Mr. Armando was watching him from inside…and the way his visor stuck out, Klavier didn’t think he could’ve simply not noticed him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cellphone. Klavier shut the hose off and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Gavin, it’s Skye here. Just checking to see how you’re getting on with Mr. Armando.”

“Everything’s okay so far,” Klavier replied. “I’m washing his car right now.”

He heard Ema snickering on the other end of the line.

“Okay,” the detective replied. “I’ll check in with you again in another couple of hours. You still got that personal alarm on you?”

Klavier felt quickly in his pocket. “Ja, I’ve got it.”

“Good. Remember, if anything goes wrong, just press it and the place will be crawling with police officers. Talk to you later.”

She hung up. Klavier put his phone away and finished hosing down the car.

“Not bad.”

He turned around and saw Mr. Armando standing on the kerb, watching him. Klavier took the opportunity to lean far, far over the hood, under the pretence of washing the roof.

“Finish up and come inside,” Mr. Armando said briskly, then turned and walked back into the house, leaving the front door ajar. Klavier swore softly, shut off the hose, and emptied the dirty water in the bucket down a nearby storm drain. He gathered everything up and went into the house.

The door led directly into the kitchen. Mr. Armando was standing by the oven. He didn’t even look around as Klavier entered.

“Put that stuff in the closet there,” he instructed, pointing to a tall closet near the door. Klavier obeyed. Mr. Armando smirked at him and nodded at the table. “Sit.”

Klavier approached the table, eyed the chair uncertainly, and then sat on the floor. Mr. Armando laughed.

“Good boy!” he chuckled, roughly tousling Klavier’s hair. “Sit at the table.”

Klavier stood up and slid onto a chair. Mr. Armando set a plate of food in front of him, along with a knife and fork. Then he took a second plate from the oven and disappeared into the lounge. Klavier gave a small sigh of frustration. What, he didn’t even get to look at him over dinner? He picked up his cutlery and began to eat.

The meal was decent, Klavier had to admit – chicken, potato, some vegetables. And he was hungry. He had almost finished when Mr. Armando came back into the kitchen.

“Make me a coffee when you’re done,” Mr. Armando said, leaving his dirty plate on the counter. “Then wash up.”

He left the room again. Klavier swallowed the last few bites of his food, and carried his plate over to the sink. He breathed a sigh of relief on seeing a jar of coffee and a mug left out on the counter.

Five minutes later he had prepared a cup of strong, black, unsweetened coffee. Klavier carried it carefully into the lounge where Mr. Armando was watching TV. He put it on the low table next to Mr. Armando’s chair and waited. Mr. Armando picked the mug up and took a long, slow swallow. Klavier couldn’t help eyeing his throat, the way his Adam’s apple moved.

“Good,” Mr. Armando said, setting the mug aside. “Come back when you’ve done the dishes.”

Klavier sighed quietly at the abrupt dismissal and returned to the kitchen to clean up. Again he puzzled over the shift in his owner’s behaviour…and his own disappointment at that shift. He knew he should be happy that Mr. Armando was ordering him to do more mundane, less kinky (and the more he thought about it, very arousing) tasks…and yet he wanted those large warm hands on him, in his hair, on his butt…other places. And, he realised slowly, he wanted the chain around his neck, the other end in Mr. Armando’s hand. Klavier grunted as his dick shifted in his pants. He’d never felt this way about a man before.

He put the clean dishes away and went into the lounge. Mr. Armando glanced up as he entered.

“All done?”

“Jawohl, Master,” Klavier replied.

Mr. Armando sat up slightly, pulled a pillow out from behind his back, and dropped it on the floor next to his chair. “Sit.”

Klavier obeyed. A few seconds later Mr. Armando’s hand descended gently on his head, and he began to stroke and play with Klavier’s long blond hair. Klavier made a small contented noise. This was more like it. There was a wildlife show about jaguars on the TV. Klavier barely paid attention, too busy focussing on how good Mr. Armando’s hand felt on his head. He leaned into the older man’s touch a little, imagining how those strong, gentle fingers would feel on other, more sensitive parts of his anatomy.

He swallowed a groan of disappointment as the show ended and Mr. Armando took his hand away. Klavier looked up at his master and saw him check his watch.

“Go run me a bath.”

Klavier got up right away, a smile on his face, and went to find the bathroom. This was more like it. The thought of scrubbing Mr. Armando’s back, maybe even towelling him off, sent a thrill down his spine. He filled the tub, testing the water with his elbow till it was just right, and added a capful of the pine-scented bubble bath that stood on the shelf above the sink. Satisfied that everything was perfect, Klavier returned to the lounge.

“Your bath is ready, Master,” he announced.

Mr. Armando smirked as he headed to the bathroom, and Klavier grinned when he beckoned for him to follow. Mr. Armando rolled up his sleeve and dipped his hand into the water.

“Good,” he murmured. He pointed to a spot on the floor between the sink and the bathtub. “Sit.”

Klavier did as he was told, trying not to let his anticipation show. Once he was settled, Mr. Armando leaned over and gently pushed Klavier’s head so that he was facing the wall.

“Stay.”

Klavier chewed his lip in frustration as he listened to Mr. Armando getting undressed. He bet the older man looked nice naked. There were gentle splashing noises as Mr. Armando got into the bath.

“You can turn around now.”

Klavier did so eagerly…and gulped. Mr. Armando looked very nice naked, or at least the top half of him did. His skin was an even bronze tone all over. His chest bore a light dusting of black and silver hair. He’d left his visor on – Klavier supposed it must be waterproof – and a silver Medic Alert tag hung around his neck. Mr. Armando was no body-builder, but there wasn’t an inch of excess flab on his arms or chest. Klavier could see a little softness at his waist, the beginnings of middle-age spread, and wanted to pet it. In fact, he just wanted in general.

Mr. Armando completely ignored him and began to scrub himself with a loofah.

“Shall I wash your back?” Klavier asked in the most seductive tone he could manage.

“Got a brush,” Mr. Armando replied, holding one up. Klavier slumped as Mr. Armando finished slowly soaping up his chest – if he didn’t know better, he’d think the other man was doing it on purpose – and began to wash his back himself. Klavier wondered what Mr. Armando wanted him there for, anyway.

“Get me some clean clothes,” Mr. Armando commanded.

Sulking, Klavier stood up and went to look for the bedroom. Once there, he gazed longingly at the comfy-looking double bed before searching through the wardrobe. He picked out a forest-green shirt, a silver tie and a pair of black slacks. He found some fresh underwear and socks in the chest of drawers and returned to the bathroom, the clothing neatly folded in his arms.

“Put them on the laundry hamper,” Mr. Armando pointed to it, “then sit down and face the wall.”

Klavier did so, albeit reluctantly. He really wanted to see the rest of Mr. Armando – the soap bubbles hid anything interesting. His gaze fell on a small shaving mirror sitting on the sink. He glanced over his shoulder. Mr. Armando was still sitting in the tub, his back to Klavier. Quickly Klavier reached up and tipped the end of the shaving mirror so that it angled downwards. He heard the tell-tale splashes that meant Mr. Armando was standing up and adjusted his position slightly. He was rewarded with a full view of Mr. Armando from behind, reflected in the mirror. Klavier watched as Mr. Armando stepped out of the bath, leaned over and grabbed a towel from the rack. The young prosecutor spread his legs a little, heat gathering in his groin as he watched Mr. Armando drying himself. The older man dropped the damp towel on the floor, then turned to the laundry hamper, reaching for the clean pair of underpants on top of his clothes.

Klavier gulped. Mr. Armando was sporting a considerable erection.

He watched in a daze as Mr. Armando got dressed, heard him hiss in discomfort as he fastened his slacks. Klavier wondered why Mr. Armando hadn’t asked him to do something about his aroused state, and almost immediately had his answer. The release form; the contract. A smile crept across Klavier’s face as he formulated a plan.

Mr. Armando finished tying his tie. “Clean the bath.”

Klavier stubbornly didn’t move. Mr. Armando gave a short, irritated sigh, took the leash from where he’d placed it on the windowsill, and snapped it back on Klavier’s collar.

“Come on, Goldilocks,” he growled. “We talked about this.”

Klavier looked up at him defiantly.

“I’ve been a good dog for you all day,” he said, pouting a little. “Don’t I deserve a bone?”

Mr. Armando began to laugh. “Kid, even under the circumstances, that’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

Klavier ducked his head sheepishly. “Ja, I know. But Herr Armando…” He looked up at him, serious now. “…I think you want me to do…other things for you besides chores. And you think if you ask, I’ll say no. But perhaps some of them…” Klavier eyed Mr. Armando’s tented slacks. “…I would say yes.”

Mr. Armando regarded him thoughtfully, idly scratching his beard.

“All right,” he replied. He tugged gently on Klavier’s leash. “Come here. All fours. I’ve got something for you.”

Klavier obeyed, crawling along the floor until he was just a few feet in front of Mr. Armando. The older man unzipped his pants, and with a grunt of relief freed his straining, sizeable erection.

“Suck it,” Mr. Armando growled, “like a good boy.”

Klavier hesitated, unsure of what to do. He felt the leash slacken.

“You okay with this?” Mr. Armando asked gruffly.

“Yes,” Klavier replied. He shuffled forward on his knees, remembering with a smile how he’d expected this to happen when he first found out he’d been bought by a man. He’d never given a blowjob, but he’d received plenty and he had a fair idea of what would feel good. Gently he wrapped his fingers around Mr. Armando’s thick shaft and squeezed slightly.

He was rewarded with a small grunt of pleasure from above him. Encouraged, Klavier leaned forward and took the first couple of inches into his mouth. The taste was slightly salty, and clean from his bath. Klavier began to suck harder, getting a little more of Mr. Armando into his mouth with each stroke. He slipped one hand inside Mr. Armando’s slacks to cup and rub his balls through his underwear. The leash tightened slightly as his owner moaned.

Klavier pulled back, giving longer strokes, and looked up at his master. Mr. Armando had his head back, arching slightly as little grunts and moans of pleasure slipped through gritted teeth. He looked down suddenly, sweat beading on his face.

“What, do you want a cookie?!”

Klavier demurely dropped his gaze and went back to lavishing attention on Mr. Armando’s pulsing erection. He used his tongue to trace a big vein on its underside – Klavier knew from experience how good that felt – and sucked harder and harder as Mr. Armando started to groan and pant. A hoarse growl of “I’m coming!” was all the warning Klavier got before his mouth filled with hot, slightly bitter-tasting liquid.

“Uhhnnf…” Mr. Armando threaded his fingers through Klavier’s hair as he rode out his orgasm. Klavier swallowed and swallowed, wondering how the older man could come so much. At last there was no more. Mr. Armando slackened the leash and gently pushed Klavier back. He tucked his softening cock back into his slacks and zipped up his flies.

“That was good,” he panted. “Very good.”

Klavier wiped his mouth and smiled. The look of satisfaction on Mr. Armando’s face filled him with a sense of victory. He lay back on his elbows, showing off the bulge in his chaps, and gave Mr. Armando his most seductive look.

Mr. Armando smirked, leaned down, and unfastened the leash from Klavier’s collar.

“Clean the tub.”


Klavier sulked back into the lounge an hour later, having scrubbed Mr. Armando’s bathtub till it shone. He hadn’t had a chance to relieve his own discomfort. Mr. Armando watched him for the first fifteen minutes or so, sitting on the lid of the toilet. Klavier took some satisfaction from the older man’s quiet yawns, but by the time Mr. Armando left him alone his erection was just an ache in his groin. Klavier felt cheated and used.

Mr. Armando barely looked up from the TV. “Tub clean?”

“Yes, master,” Klavier growled.

That got a reaction. Mr. Armando turned and gave him a long look.

“Feeling grumpy, Goldilocks?”

Klavier scowled defiantly at him and didn’t answer. Mr. Armando smirked lazily and patted the couch. “C’mere.”

Klavier slouched over, suspecting a trick. Mr. Armando was sitting at one end of the couch, leaving both of the other seats vacant. He smiled at Klavier and patted the couch again. “C’mere, sit down.”

Klavier sat stiffly on the couch, leaving a distance of six inches between himself and the older man. Mr. Armando stretched out a long arm and gently pulled Klavier closer. Klavier intended to resist at first, but Mr. Armando’s large warm hand on his skin felt too damn good. He leaned into him, resting his head on Mr. Armando’s shoulder. He smelled of pine from his bath. Klavier closed his eyes briefly as Mr. Armando shifted a little and began to play with his hair. He gave a small, rueful smile at how much he wanted the older man. Funny – he’d always considered himself straight as an arrow before today.

“That was…interesting, in the bathroom,” Mr. Armando remarked. He moved his hand down to Klavier’s shoulder and rubbed his index finger along the prosecutor’s collarbone. “Didn’t think you’d developed such a taste for me.”

Now who’s delivering terrible lines, Klavier thought, yet at the same time he felt his chest flush and a tingle of arousal zipped through his belly. Mr. Armando shifted again, placing his hand on Klavier’s stomach, idly tracing his impressive six-pack.

“You’ve done that before, haven’t you?” Mr. Armando murmured.

Klavier blushed. “Nein,” he replied. “That was my first time.”

“Really?”

Klavier shifted slightly and saw Mr. Armando looking at him, a faint smirk on his face.

“Really,” Klavier replied.

“I’m impressed,” Mr. Armando remarked. “That kind of talent deserves a reward.” He removed his arm from around Klavier and stood up. “Stay here.”

Klavier turned to look over the back of the couch as Mr. Armando went into the kitchen. He gave a little sigh of disappointment – he’d hoped the ‘reward’ would be a sexual one. He settled back in his seat and waited for his master to return, idly watching the commercials to pass the time.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Armando came back into the room. He paused to lower the lights a little, then sat next to Klavier. Klavier smelled freshly brewed coffee and heard a clink and a hiss as a bottle was opened.

“¿Cervesa?”

Klavier accepted the glass bottle with a smile and took a sip. The beer was refreshingly cool and quite good. Mr. Armando slid one arm around him and Klavier put his head back on his shoulder. There was a biography of an old soccer player on TV, but Klavier was far more interested in the way Mr. Armando kept fondling him with his free hand. The older man switched between his shoulder, his hair, and his stomach, and Klavier began to wish that Mr. Armando would go for his nipples, or lower down on his belly. Klavier discreetly eased his legs apart as a slow heat built his groin. He finished his beer shortly after the first commercial break, and at the second break Mr. Armando went to the kitchen and got him another.

“You don’t have to get me drunk, you know,” Klavier murmured in his most seductive voice.

Mr. Armando chuckled and lowered his gaze. The red lights of his visor played over the growing bulge in Klavier’s chaps. “I can see that, kitten.”

“Thought I was your doggie,” Klavier teased gently.

“Ha...!” Mr. Armando drank his coffee. “Well, both get to sleep in master’s bed, if they behave.”

Klavier managed not to shiver in anticipation as he settled back against Mr. Armando’s shoulder. The TV show they were watching couldn’t end soon enough.