Good boy

The dirt collected in clumps between his joints. He was panting as he snuffled around at the feet of his masters. Humans with hungry eyes - salivating excitement at the loyal beast snaking between their legs. His body rippled like a caterpillar. His rear raised ever so slightly in the air, for the curve of his spine strained as his nerves were set on fire. His mind was set on validation, the stroke of a hand across his skull or the offer of treats as hands caressed his pink middle. The muzzle he wore kept his waterfall jaws cemented shut so as he longed for attention all he could muster was a whimpering somewhere deep in his dry throat. 

He starved for their touch. He lived for their devotion. Yet all he felt as he begged on command, or thrashed to his back praying to be relieved of his torturous longing - was shame. Yes all he felt was shame. They saw he was unhappy, the eyes that owned him, they saw his despair and they relished in it. They held themselves how he longed to be held and they touched each other almost thoughtlessly, no prompt needed, no head tilt or straining stare. It seemed they mocked him with their equality. Did he want to belong to them, or with them? He licked their shoes and fetched their toys but was it only their affection he required?

No. He needed the shame. He needed the way they withheld their touch and kicked him as he begged. The leash they strapped round him was fatuous, as he would never run from the gift of their torture. He was a good boy for them, so that in time they'd let him be bad. He heeled for his mistress because as she stroked his hairless skin, her hand occasionally brushed his erection. He knew she purposefully teased him, she could grab it and pump it and put him out of his misery. But he was not lame, he need not be put down yet. The curl of her lip as he convulsed in excitement was only a prelude to the smile that ripped apart her commanding face as she withdrew her touch. He yelped through closed lips as if physically pained, writhing where he lay like a pig in shit. He belonged to her, but he knew she liked to share. His limbs grew sad as she turned her cold back to him, but then she invited the crowd to have a go.

'Spread' - she barked. 

The animal in her was a mighty lioness and her roar sent shivers through the rat that he was. She was his goddess and he lived to serve. But as the humans drew arms, of leather and lubricant and the creature kicked his legs in the air - he knew it was all worth it, as his reward was about to begin.