EXTRACT FOR
Rascal's Reward
(Kelly Addams)

Kerry sighed softly, it wasn't quite an English country garden, but it was close enough... considering the distance.

The distance? She didn't know how far, how many miles or kilometres her new garden sat from her old in England's green and leafy Cheshire? A very long way she told herself, the length of two continents. From the Midlands of England to a scrap of South Africa's Lowveld, the northern most region of the country. Green and lush but also humid beyond belief, it had taken time to adjust but she was finally feeling comfortable in the heat.

And my new home signals my new life, a life away from pointing fingers and shaking heads.

They never were going to accept the real me she admitted, those friends that had slowly begun to distance themselves after the breakdown of her marriage. Graham, her ex-husband certainly wasn't ever going to forgive or forget, he had taken it as a personal insult.

Kerry smiled, she could see the funny side now. That evening sat in their small back garden of their very proper suburban house, ice tinkling in his whisky and her gin, the evening that she had dropped the bombshell that had signalled the end. 

"I think I might be a lesbian!"

The whisky tumbler had frozen against his lips as her words and their meaning slowly filtered through several layers of very masculine and stubborn denial.

"Say again?" the glass lowered slowly and deliberately to the table as his eyes bore into her.

"It's something I think I've always known," Kerry had begun, "Known but not admitted."

Of course he had taken it as an insult to his manhood, macho pride wasn't just bruised. Realistically I took it and crushed it under my dyke heel, Kerry giggled quietly. How could he face that, his wife of ten years suddenly admitting that she preferred to taste of pussy? His friends must have had a field day she thought, Graham, the guy who turned his wife gay. The manly Graham, sportsman and borderline misogynist, muscular and powerful... but clearly unable to satisfy his partner!

Of course it hadn't been him, not entirely... she was generous enough to admit that to him as he sat there, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded goldfish as he tried to process the shocking information overload. "It was always inside me, I just denied my feelings... until now."

He hadn't even asked the question "Why now?"

Kerry glanced across the table set beneath the spreading and blossom laden arms of a stately South African Jacaranda, lavender petals drifting down on a gentle breeze that carried along the valley. Opposite her sat the reason, there was her "Why."

Bethany, her sweet English rose.

Except she isn't that sweet, the thought popped un-summoned into Kerry's mind. Bethany may have looked gentile and oh so very chaste and proper, but that was a facade that disguised the true nature of her lover. Sweet English rose! Closer to call her my dirty little slut.

Beth could be so prim and proper, when they met people for the first time she would be polite and charming, then out of earshot she would delight in teasing Kerry by describing in graphic detail what she would like to do to the sexy little wife of whoever was visiting.

A wonderful part of my new life Kerry thought as she sipped a glass of chilled white from the vineyards of the Cape away to the south. And I love how open the Rainbow Nation is. The Rainbow, she loved that description, an example of rebranding at its finest. From a time of darkness and oppression a land of tolerance had been born, variations in not just colour but also sexuality had risen from the ashes of apartheid, every hue and appetite now accepted and embraced.

And people just accept us rather than calling us deviants. She thought back to her restrictive and very proper days in England and a smile came to her lips. Renowned around the world as a nation of animal lovers she doubted that her suburban peers would be quite so willing to accept her unusual choice of pet.

She couldn't really explain her own fascination because rascal wasn't what could be called a normal pet by any stretch of the imagination.

And Bethany's pet, the opposite of her rascal in almost every way, colour, gender, attitude, obedience.

What had driven her to seek out a puppy boy as a house pet?

Dominance for one, control and power over the male she told herself as she followed the long lead that she held in her hand to the studded leather collar around his neck. But the leash didn't end there, and that was one of the aspects of puppy boy ownership that made her tingle inside, the lead passed through a metal ring on the collar and continued under her pet's belly to terminate in a tightly buckled strap that encompassed both puppy penis and puppy balls.

This leash gave her power, from the moment that she commanded rascal to roll onto his back so that by grasping his genitals she could secure the device, she felt powerful that his meat would instantly swell within her firm grip. Often she would chastise her unruly pup with a swift and sharp slap aimed at the offending organ, often she heard the gasp of pain as his balls bounced under her corrective ministrations. It did no damage, the act merely reinforced her dominance... and for some time after a more subdued pet would wait patiently at his Mistress' feet, his soulful eyes constantly on hers, just waiting for the first glimmer of a smile which always spelled forgiveness and even the possibility of a pat on the head, a comforting word or even fingers offered to lick. But when rascal misbehaved the leash was put to its proper use, it was a means of punishment not just control when his Mistress took him for long walks. An errant puppy would soon be brought back to dutiful obedience with a sharp tug, the leash tightening painfully around tightly bound genitals. Whimpering rascal would instantly return to heel, it was the sign that he had crossed the line and angered his Mistress. Kerry didn't mistreat him, but she had to admit that every time she was compelled to tug the leash, she always thought of Graham as the anguished yelp filled her ears.

Her gaze drifted to Bethany's chosen pet. Docile and obedient penny, brown skinned she glistened in the sun when oiled. So very different from rascal she mused, where her own puppy was agile and athletic, penny was of a heavier build, strong hind legs spoke of an ability to work, but the hanging belly also spoke of an ability seldom used. And her breasts are far too small for a puppy girl her size. Kerry had seen other specimens, equally dark, equally strong-looking, they had possessed much fuller breasts that hung pleasingly between powerful and straight front legs. And those puppy girls didn't have such fat stomachs hanging. But the bitch is not mine, and Bethany appears to be happy with her, so who am I to throw stones.