In the Doghouse - Chapter 147
XI.
Even amidst the bustle of preparing for winter, Courtney made a point of spending time with Richard. She was intentionally ensuring she didn’t get consumed solely by work as she had before, and truly, things were running more smoothly than during the harvest festival season. By now, every servant had adapted to her presence and followed her instructions closely.
No matter how busy she was, she still had to make time. There were plenty of reasons for this—among them, the desire to conceive sooner rather than later—but primarily, she felt an unwavering responsibility to undress him at least once daily.
“Ha… Mmh…!”
Richard moaned as Courtney twisted the plug slowly, making him grip the edge of the desk tightly, muscles straining. By now, with the steady progression of his tolerance, the jewel embedded in the plug had darkened to a blood-red hue.
Though it was designed for beginners, the maximum size now was even larger than Courtney’s fist. Sweat dripped down his bare back, beading on his skin and forming rivulets.
Courtney watched his reaction closely, slowly moving the plug in and out to ensure there were no issues. As she continued, his hips rocked forward and back, his member fully e***t and brushing against the hard desk edge, which didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.
Then, turning the jewel three full rotations counterclockwise, she watched it shift from a dark crimson back to a soft pink as the pressure decreased. With that, the size reduced, and Richard exhaled in a mix of relief and frustration.
“Ha, nngh…”
Courtney pulled the plug out entirely, albeit roughly. Despite its reduced size, the plug was still substantial, and his body felt empty as cool air flooded into the space it left behind. Richard gave a slight shiver.
Courtney leaned in, inspecting the area between his b******s. Since he wore something there every day (except during these cleansing sessions), his muscles didn’t immediately close up on their own. His cleanly groomed opening still remained slightly agape.
She ran her fingers along the sensitive folds of skin to check for any discomfort, and his sturdy backside quivered beneath her touch. Smiling, she gave his rear a firm slap.
“Spread them.”
“Hhn, yes…”
Richard lowered his torso against the desk and reached back to spread himself wide, as directed. Courtney opened a drawer beneath the desk, retrieving the tools she’d set up for his cleansing.
Filling a large glass syringe with clean, cool water, she readied herself. Initially, one full syringe would have been challenging for him, but now he could comfortably handle several rounds if need be.
Today, she decided, two rounds would suffice. After filling the syringe, she inserted the tip and pressed it into him.
“Hngh…!”
The rush of cool water filling his insides made Richard tense, forcing him to breathe through his nose. But Courtney pressed down steadily on the douche, relentless yet careful, aware of his limits after many sessions together. When the syringe was empty, she removed it, and he clenched his muscles, struggling to hold everything in.
As she refilled the syringed with more water, she asked,
“You okay?”
“Y-Yes…”
His voice was strained, each word squeezed out, and Courtney allowed herself a satisfied smile. His reaction, struggling to hold it all in, feeling simultaneously uncomfortable yet exhilarated, was what made this tedious task almost enjoyable for her. Though he could tolerate most pain easily, she knew this particular discomfort was something he found difficult to manage.
Meanwhile, Richard’s mind was consumed by one overwhelming thought: the urge to release, the pressing need to empty his tense belly.
Yet he was determined to avoid the humiliation of losing control before her, clinging to what little dignity he had left. To distract himself, he began moving his hips subtly, rubbing his painfully hard member against the desk in tiny motions.
Of course, Courtney noticed. As he began squirming, she inserted a finger with a swift, practiced movement.
“Aahngh, Courtney… Ah, Master. I’m sorry, forgive me, please…”
Her cold, unyielding touch forced him into compliance. Her finger, unexpectedly warm and agile, twisted inside him, making him gasp. His body tightened, and though he tried, he couldn’t prevent a few drops from escaping, trailing down his inner thigh. Humiliation washed over him, making him whimper softly.
Without missing a beat, she tugged his pants down further to ensure no stains marred the fabric.
“Master, please… please…”
