With a promise and rod

"None of us are born clothed."

At once, her head moved back up, and she made eye-contact with you as an understanding packaged beyond words was passed between your gazes; her lustful, blue eyes were wide open at the unspoken but shared implications of her immediate future. It would appear, some pets were just born for their owners.

"But before we begin, you need to grasp the rewards of being one with nature," you state. You are met with a tilted face laden with confusion. You simply chuckle at what is to come.

You right hand still on the left-most mound of her chest, you crouch down and let your fingers glide down her body, tracing every curve they pass by. You encounter quiet, but pleased, sounds and yet do not stop. A few seconds later, the delicate fingers on her left hand are interlocked with your own. Rising to your full height, you stretch out her compliant arm and rest her hand on your groin.

"You get a bone." Then, her limb was released.

Hunger was seen ravenously consuming every other thought through the windows to her soul. Her hands moved with a deftness betraying her wanton desire as they pulled up and threw away her shirt. The round-shaped, perky breasts were as every bit as beautiful as you imagined.

You overheard chatter as she continued stripping.

The refined woman from earlier commented her two cents, "Good riddance! Here she is, granted permission to clothe herself as a human would, and what does she do? Chain herself to the style of degenerates and dress as a slut! Perhaps, she is not a good girl."

"Amelia! Pets not wanting to wear some clothes isn't a reason to insult them, you know! Covering some organs isn't as big of a deal for the animal kindgom!" exclaimed the one wearing the latest fashion.

A laugh rang out in the store, and ceased the budding argument. "Both of you are about to miss the show - can't you see that they are going to start soon?"

No longer pretending to be discreet, they made their way over to the both of you. Even so, you keep your eyes on your pet, drinking in the view.

Curiosity sung its siren song to you, and your gaze was directed below to the garment being pulled down her legs. A wet spot was distinctly visible inside of her jeans. However, no panties were in-sight. With the last of the obstacles removed, you were free to brazenly eye her puffy, dripping pussy to your heart's content. Truly, she deserved to be punished.

Finally, and panting with every breath of expectation, she shed the last of her clothes; boots, socks, and purse were thrown aside with a **** intent. Before you, kneeled a naked, nubile, and young blonde about to lose herself in her passion. Eyes dialted, nipples at attention, and streaks of arousal already flowing down her legs, everything about her screamed that she needed to be fucked.

Your own jeans feeling particulary tight at the moment, you popped open a button to Rebecca's captivated leer. Shuddering breaths passed through her lips as you slowly unzipped your pants, then displaced your boxers. Finally, your bone popped free.

You nodded your head. Immediately, a mouth swallowed 5 inches. The next moment, the remaining three were **** down her neck as she pushed herself to her limits with an audible gurk.

You let out a surprised grunt. Holy fuck. Both of your hands marked out the bulge in her throat, before they embed themselves on her scalp.

Every back and forth motion was a love song in what might be the oldest language known to man: human pleasure. No, an instrumental, as your own organ was the vessel through which her symphony was played. The hands placed on the bobbing head in front of you could do naught but be dragged along the ride, and were as every bit as useful as a commoner trying to participate in Mozart's concert.

A mere 30 seconds after she started, you teared her off of your cock lest you find yourself cumming early.

"Maybe I was hasty in my judgement, if she can perform such tricks," Amelia relucatantly admitted, sounding impressed.

"Shh!" the other two responded, watching as if they were at the annual pet lover show.

Blood pounding through both of your heads, you could only declare, "I'm going to leave you with a litter."

Her body jolted, through and through, as her impending fate was made clear. Contrary to most her age, the delight that passed over every inch of her face made it self-evident that this new development was far from unwanted.

"And not just once," you muttered, once again crouched down but with your mouth now next to her ear, talking in a whisper only you and her can hear. "How does it feel to know that every year, you will feel pups sliding out between your legs?"

She squirted. All of your actions and words from earlier had coalesced her tension into a singular point, and your promise had smashed that button hard enough to send her over the edge. Spray after spray darkened the wooden flooring and gathered into a small puddle.

Yet, in spite of that release, her vagina still excreted her arousal.

Breaking character for the first time since you directed her to roll over, she begged, "Do it!"