The animal’s dirty coat, along with the calloused pads of its feet, corroborates her story. The poor animal must be a long way from home.
“I’m going to get my car,” I tell the adults. “Keep an eye on him.”
I race to my apartment and throw on a t-shirt before ripping the comforter from my bed. I pull my car up to the sidewalk beside him and find the group has grown in that short amount of time.
They make way for me as I head back to get the dog. The poor creature is whining piteously, leaving me to wonder if he will survive the trip.
As gently as I can, I work the blanket under him, then ask the group, “I need one of you to grab the other end and help me lift him so we can slide him into the car.”
No one moves to help.
I’m about to assign the job to somebody when one of the women finally volunteers. I grab the end near the animal’s mouth, not wanting to risk her being bitten during transport.
The injured dog growls and begins yelping in pain as we carry him to the vehicle and slide him into the backseat. I shut the door and nod to the woman in thanks before jumping into the driver’s seat.
She knocks on the passenger side window and says through the glass, “I can go with you.”
Concerned for the dog’s survival, I roll down the window and agree, telling her, “Why don’t you drive and I’ll stay in the back to keep the dog still.”
She nods and turns to her kids, “Stay with Ms. Julie until I get back.”
“Please save him, Mommy!” the little boy cries.
“We’ll do our best, honey.”
The trip to the clinic proves exceedingly painful for the poor dog, and I suffer several minor bites trying to keep him still as we drive over the bumps. However, I know the dog is doing its best to control the urge to bite every time we hit another bump.
Once we arrive at the vet hospital, one of the assistants runs out to help us. “We got a call from your neighbors letting us know you were coming.”
With his help, we get the dog inside, and they take him straight to the operating room while I’m left to fill out forms.
“Are you the owner?” the receptionist asks.
“No, we believe the dog is a stray.”
“Are you willing to take financial responsibility for this dog if the owner cannot be located?”
“Yes,” I answer, even though I have no desire to own a pet.
“After the vet makes her initial assessment, she’ll discuss treatment options and the costs associated with each one.”
I nod to her.
Once I’m done with the stack of forms, I turn to the woman who accompanied me and ask, “Would you like me to drive you home?”
“No. If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay and find out if the dog is going to make it.”
I shrug. “It’s fine with me, but I have no idea how long this will take, and you have children to look after.”
“Don’t worry about my brood. Julie’s great, and my kids are best friends with hers.”
“Take a seat, then. This may take a while.”
The vet comes out twenty minutes later and motions for me to join her in the operating room. The Australian Shepherd lays on the table, its tongue lolling out and its eyes half-open.
“I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, Mr. Walker, and have sedated the dog. I was told you’re taking responsibility for him, so the decision is yours on how I should proceed. We have two options. I can either remove the leg or I can euthanize him. Obviously, if I remove the leg, there is a considerable expense involved, but I am willing to lower the cost because of the circumstances. However, it means you will need to care for the dog until he recovers, and you should be aware that dogs with a missing limb have a harder time being adopted.”
I stare at the dog, saying nothing as I weigh the two options. Euthanasia will put the animal out of its misery. However, I’ve lost too many of my own men, and the idea of killing this innocent creature makes my skin crawl.
I don’t need a dog. I don’t want a dog. However, I can’t walk away.
“Remove the leg.”
The vet smiles. “I’ll call you back in after the procedure.”
I return to the waiting room and Alice greets me with an anxious look. “So?”
“They are removing the leg. The dog should be fine.”
“Oh, thank goodness!”
“I don’t suppose you want a dog?” I ask hopefully.
“Oh, no! I have enough to handle with my brood.”
I sit back down, realizing I’ve just become a new owner. I shake my head, thinking what a fine pair we make—One-Eye and His Three-Legged Mutt.
Life sure has a perverse sense of humor.
I bring the dog home two days later with a long list of instructions on how to care for him. He doesn’t look to be doing well and lies listlessly in the dog bed I purchased.
Every now and then, he whimpers.
Like clockwork, I redress his wounds at the appointed time, and try to get food down him as often as I can but each day, he seems to worsen. When I can’t take the sound of his whimpering any longer, I bring him to my bed.
Lying beside him, I pet the dog. With tears running down my face, I tell him, “Be a trouper, pup. Don’t give up on me.” The dog wags his tail once in response. I don’t even know this damn animal, but I seriously can’t bear the thought of him dying.
To ensure his recovery, I stop feeding him the canned dog food and start feeding him real meat. It doesn’t take long before I start seeing an improvement, but I’ve created a problem with my constant care.
The dang animal doesn’t want me to leave his side, and he must rest to heal from the major surgery he’s had. However, when I leave the room, he tries to follow me. If I shut him away in the room, he howls. Even if I barricade the doorway so he can still see me, he howls.
Eventually, I decide he’s rested enough and set him free.
He hops toward me, his tail wagging vigorously. Laying his head on my lap, he looks up at me with his blue and brown eyes.
“What do you want?”
He just wags his tail, waiting.
Waiting for what, I have no idea. I pat him on the head. “Are you hungry? Is that what you want?”
His eyes never leave me. I finally get up and dish up some meat for him, setting it on the floor. He sniffs at it, disinterested, then looks up at me again with an expectant look.
“You’re going to drive me crazy, dog.”
I go back to the couch and sit down, amused when he returns, laying his head on my lap, that expectant look returning while his tail wags slowly.
After trying everything I can think of, I finally spy the leash. As soon as I grab it, he starts barking excitedly. Even though I despise going out in public, there’s no stopping this dog from having a walk.
I sigh as I clip the leash to his collar and head out for a short walk around the block. As soon as the kids see him, they run over and start peppering me with questions.
“Is he’s okay now?”
“Can we pet him?”
“What’s his name?”
A name…
I haven’t gotten that far yet but, as I look down at him balancing on his three legs, it comes to me. “Trouper. Troup for short.”
“Aww…” one of the girls says, kneeling down and rubbing his furry cheeks. “You’re so cute, Trouper.”
I’m amazed as the kids gather around me to pet the dog. Having Troup seems to have made them forget all about my monstrous face.
When I feel the dog has had enough of their attention, I announce that I am taking him for a walk. While I had originally planned to take a short walk around the block, I end up walking several more because Troup doesn’t want to stop.
His zest for life is contagious.
When we finally return to the apartment, I find a basket waiting for me on the doorstep. I pick up the basket and take it inside, curious about who sent it. Inside, I find a batch of homemade peanut butte
r cookies and a note.
Mr. Walker,
I wanted to personally thank you for saving that sweet dog. I can’t tell you how happy all the kids in the neighborhood were when Alice told us the dog was going to live because of you.
You made what could have been a traumatic experience for our children into an example of how kind and generous people can be.
Thank you, Mr. Walker, and God bless you!
One Grateful Mother
I immediately sit down after reading the note, overcome with emotion. I put my head in my hands and start to cry. Troup immediately sticks his nose between my hands in concern.
My sudden outburst of emotion is a shock to me, but after months of feeling utterly alone and invisible, the neighbor who sent me these cookies cannot know what her act of kindness means.
I take one of the cookies from the basket and break it in half, handing one piece to Trouper. “You’ve earned it, buddy.”
As he gobbles it up, I take a bite of the cookie myself and sigh.
With that one bite, I have entered the land of the living again…
I give the little Australian pup a scratch on the head and thank the owner of the pet store before I leave.
Baron set a time for me to return for Candy, and I haven’t received a text requesting more time so I return, assuming everything has gone well. However, I can’t be sure of that until I see Candy in person.
When I walk through his door, I can immediately tell by the expression on her face that this has been a successful evening. The bright glint in her eyes makes me wonder if it might have been even more than that.
After sharing pleasantries with Baron, I escort Candy to my car.
On the drive home, she can’t stop talking about how incredible the night was and how surprised she is to find she actually enjoys anal sex. She surprises me by asking, “Is that something you would ever consider doing with me, Captain?”
My cock stirs at the suggestion, but I answer nonchalantly, “If it would please you, pet.”
“I would definitely like to try it with you. I never knew how intimate it could be.”
“I must say I’m surprised at your enthusiasm, knowing it is one of your hard limits.”
She blushes. “To be honest, I am, too. But Baron showed me what’s possible, and I feel like I’ve missed out on something wonderful.”
“You have your whole life ahead to make up for it.”
Candy reaches over and places her hand on my thigh. “Yes, I do!”
“What are your feelings for Baron now?”
She bats her eyes at me, her smile growing wider. “Baron is an amazing Dom and person. Like you, he has an easy dominance that fits my personality well. You were right to pick him as my first.”
Her answer prompts me to ask the next question. “Does that mean your feelings have changed?”
“It does. I absolutely admire him, and I hope to get to know him better.”
“So, our search has ended?” I press.
She looks at me and smiles as she shakes her head.
I know I shouldn’t feel as relieved as I do but the truth is, I’m not quite ready to let her go yet.
“So, we move on to my second choice?” I ask.
“If it pleases you.” She sits back in her seat with a satisfied grin. “I thank you for tonight, Captain. This evening was more than I could have hoped for.”
“That pleases me more than I can say, pet.”
With the memories still fresh in my mind after my visit to the pet shop, I ask, “What would you think if I told you I wanted a dog?”
The Mystery
Candy
Captain instructs me to wear an elegant but simple black dress. He seems uncharacteristically excited for me to scene with this next Dom but he won’t give me a name, only hints about who he is.
“The man is not only and accomplished Dom, but he is an astute businessman, as well,” Captain informs me. “Talking to him, I was immediately impressed by his sharp mind.”
“But why all the secrecy, Captain?” I ask, amused to see him so animated.
“This person isn’t someone you would consider for yourself, but I suspect you two are a good match. More importantly, he’s someone I trust to treat you with the respect and compassion you deserve.”
When I hear him talk about these other Doms, I’m continually struck by the fact that the characteristics he looks for in these other men are the very ones he himself possesses. I understand that Captain needs to come to that conclusion himself, and I am okay with that because wearing his collar—temporary or not—means I get to spend more time with him.
Captain’s hints make me even more curious about the Dom I will be scening with tonight, so I ask, “Is he someone I know?”
“Affirmative.”
“Is that the extent of your answer?”
He smirks. “I’m looking forward to seeing the look on your face when you see who it is.”
I shake my head, but I have to admit I like seeing this playful side of Captain.
He drives us through an older neighborhood before pulling up to an historical Victorian home. “Are you ready for this?”
I look at the house, curious about who owns it. “I am, but I’m also a little nervous. You said I would never choose him, so what if it turns out we aren’t a match? Like—at all?”
“Then I want you to use your safeword and call me. I’ll come back for you immediately.” He caresses my cheek. “Based on your experience with Baron, however, I’m confident this will be a positive experience for you.”
I trust Captain, but still…
He can see the concern in my eyes and adds, “I will say this—the man is familiar with your temperament and needs. No matter what he has planned tonight, you’ll be determining the course of the evening.”
I instantly feel more at ease and gratefully take his hand as he helps me out of the car.
As we make our way up to the door, he asks, “Who do you think it is, my pet?”
“At first, I was convinced it was Dominare, the last Dom I had asked to interview the day of my graduation. However, you mentioned this is a Dom I wouldn’t pick, so I immediately ruled him out. Then I thought it might be Rytsar Durov, and I was terrified. But I know you would never pair me with a sadist.” As I look up at the ornate wooden decorations covering the outside of Victorian-style house, I admit, “So I settled on Tono Nosaka, but this does not look like his style at all.”
I smile at Captain, shrugging. “I’m at a loss. Honestly, I have no idea who will answer this door.”
“Perfect.” Captain rings the doorbell and stands back, watching me intently.
My heart begins to race when I hear footsteps coming toward the door, and I stop breathing when it swings open.
“Well, howdy, Miss Cox What brings you out to my neck of the woods?” he asks with a charming smile.
Master Anderson…
Captain is right. He wasn’t even on my radar, and my jaw drops. The cowboy Dom is an expert with the bullwhip, which is not a tool I even want to try.
I look at Captain questioningly.
Master Anderson holds out his hand to Captain. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
“I see your submissive is properly surprised.”
Captain has a glint in his eye. “It was the exact reaction I was counting on.”
“Please come in, both of you,” Master Anderson tells us.
As we walk through the hallway, I find all the decorative architecture throughout his home enchanting. “This place is amazing, Master Anderson.”
“Thank you. It’s not quite what I had in Denver, but it still maintains the same charm.”
We sit down in a living room, and Master Anderson asks, “Tell me, Miss Cox. What are your thoughts about this pairing?”
“I admit I’m…surprised.”
“I was too when Captain first explained his proposal, yet…he’s right. I do like itty-bitty things with the hea
rts of a lion.”
I blush, remembering his compliment the night of my graduation.
Captain speaks up. “I thought the levity you bring would match well with Candy’s carefree spirit.”
“Do you like a good practical joke, darlin’?” Master Anderson asks.
“Well, I do like them… but more when they’re played on someone else.”
He chuckles. “It’s much more fun, I agree.”
As I stare at Master Anderson, I realized this can’t possibly work, based on the rules of the Submissive Training Center.
I address Captain in concern. “I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“Since Master Anderson was my trainer, doesn’t that preclude him collaring me?”
Captain nods to Master Anderson proudly. “I told you she’s a smart one.” He then looks at me and smiles tenderly. “I specifically discussed the matter with Master Anderson, but I will let him share his thoughts with you later.”
Standing up, Captain walks over to Master Anderson. “Call me if you require extra time.”
Master Anderson glances at me and winks. “Will do.”
Holding out his arms, Captain calls me to him. I walk over, closing my eyes as I lay my head on his chest.
“Embrace this unique opportunity, my pet,” he whispers.
I nod, not quite ready for him to go.
“Kneel,” Captain commands.
I immediately kneel on the floor and look up at him.
Since Master Anderson is one of my official trainers, Captain places his hand on my head, and states, “I give my ownership of you over to Master Anderson. Serve him well tonight, my pet.”
He lifts his hand and tells me to remain still.
I feel Master Anderson place his hand on my head. “I accept your submission, slave. You will call me Master for the remainder of the night.”
I feel butterflies in my stomach on hearing his command. This will be a formal power exchange, not the casual one I experienced with Baron.
Keeping my head down, I answer, “Yes, Master.”
“Be true to yourself,” Captain reminds me before he and Master Anderson leave the room.
I’m still kneeling when Master Anderson re-enters. “Stand and serve your Master.”