Pomeranians. Although…Anon knows nothing about dogs and the rearing of dogs, so chapter may be off…
Warning: racist thoughts
Master of the House
Chapter 2 - Bonds
“Fetch, Spado, fetch!” Charles tossed the toy ball across the grassy green grass of his courtyard. A fluffy blur of golden brown and white dashed past, swiftly following the flying ball. Charles laughed, gazing at his loyal companion with affection as the dog returned with the toy in his mouth, tail wagging frantically.
“Good boy,” he scratched the dog’s ears. “Who’s a good boy?”
Spado yipped happily, rolling on his back and staring up at him in adoration as Charles rubbed the dog’s belly and hind quarters.
Spado was fierce, loyal and, above all, loving. Everything a man could desire in a companion. He was Charles’s favorite for that very reason, though he loved all his dogs tremendously. The only being who came close in his affections was Grandmaster Kenway, but Charles’s feelings for the man were of a different sort than his adoration of his canines.
Spado and his other dogs, they inspired uncomplicated love. Unfettered joy. Unspoken devotion. They put him above all else and demanded the return of equal faith and loyalty. They brightened his day, lightened his load and made him forget his troubles, if only for a little while.
Master Kenway…
Charles sighed, fingers stilling in soft fur.
Master Kenway inspired admiration and distant longing. The knowledge of what he would always want and could never attain. The bitter knowledge that this remarkable, worthy man, this dignified and handsome Alpha who had led the Colonial Templars had wasted his affections on a Native slut undeserving of him.
Thoughts of Haytham Kenway caused him to look at the window at the far corner of the manor. Though he could not catch a glimpse of the figure within, he knew that Connor was there, undoubtedly still insensate in his bed where he’d left him after he’d taken his pleasure from him.
Unbidden, the image of the boy’s youthful body came to mind. The long, finely muscled limbs. The trim waist and shapely arse.
Charles’s breeches tightened, and he grudgingly admitted that perhaps something useful had come of the ill-advised liaison between Master Kenway and that Native bitch.
Soon, soon that flat belly will soften and round as his child grows within the boy. Soon, he’ll be able to place his hand upon the boy’s stomach and feel the baby kick. Soon, he’ll have his heir.
His eyes abruptly narrowed, and Spado yipped in distressed as Charles’s hands suddenly clawed and clenched.
He apologetically softened his touch and soothed the dog, gently soothing the ruffled fur.
Connor had miscarried only a couple of months ago and, if Matthew was correct in his diagnosis, he would miscarry again as long as he remained in his apathetic state. Charles’s plan of combining the great lineage of Master Kenway with his own and leveraging the famous eyes of the Kenway line would fail. He would lose this child like he had lost the last son.
That was not to be borne.
But, for the life of him, he could not figure out how to deal with it. How does one revive an enemy without re-arming him? Charles went through too much trouble to de-claw the boy. He did not want to undo his hard work.
A series of happy barks interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced up to see one of the man-servants with the rest of his pack.
“There you are, sir,” the man-servant bowed respectfully. The other Pomeranians yipped happily around the man, following him obediently as he neared Charles.
“Are they well?” He inspected each carefully to make sure they were in the perfect of health.
“Perfectly, sir. They are happy and contented as can be.”
“And their meal?”
“Consumed with gusto, sir. Their appetites are healthy and,” the man-servant’s voice hushed in reverence, “one of them is pregnant.”
Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise. His eyes went to the only girl in his pack. “You are sure?”
The man nodded. “Positive, sir. I took them to the animal doctor earlier today, and he confirmed that she is with pups.”
Charles laughed with joy, ecstatic at the news. The breeding had taken, and his lovely girl had given him a new brood!
Suddenly, remembering the last pregnancy he had been around, he hurriedly turned to his man-servant.
“Is she healthy?”
A nod. “Yes sir. The doctor has informed me that she had formed close and happy bonds with the rest of the dogs as well as her obvious affection for you, and that, if things continue the way they are, she’ll deliver 3 puppies.”
Charles breathed a sigh of relief and lifted a reverent hand to pet his girl. She would be fine, her puppies would be fine, and she won’t miscarry or lose the litter like…
His brain suddenly halted and thought to what his servant had said. An idea formed in his mind, tempting, but dangerous.
Bonds, the man had said. Close and happy bonds and affection.
Furiously, he struggled to remember what Matthew had told him earlier.
Something to fight for…isolated…
The idea coalesced and his eyes widened.
He glanced at the lone window again.
“Take the dogs back to their rooms and be sure to give them their treats,” he instructed his man-servant.
“Sir?” the man said, puzzled. Charles didn’t blame him. He was typically a man of routine, and here he was, breaking that routine.
“I have affairs to take care of.”
He stood abruptly and called for his cloak, hat and gloves, glancing at the lonely window all the while.
It was time to make a house-call to James Collins, and see how the man was doing with his prize Omega.
It was time to see if Clipper Wilkinson could help him with his goals.
Master of the House - part 3
Warning: racist thoughts
Master of the House
Chapter 2 - Bonds
“Fetch, Spado, fetch!” Charles tossed the toy ball across the grassy green grass of his courtyard. A fluffy blur of golden brown and white dashed past, swiftly following the flying ball. Charles laughed, gazing at his loyal companion with affection as the dog returned with the toy in his mouth, tail wagging frantically.
“Good boy,” he scratched the dog’s ears. “Who’s a good boy?”
Spado yipped happily, rolling on his back and staring up at him in adoration as Charles rubbed the dog’s belly and hind quarters.
Spado was fierce, loyal and, above all, loving. Everything a man could desire in a companion. He was Charles’s favorite for that very reason, though he loved all his dogs tremendously. The only being who came close in his affections was Grandmaster Kenway, but Charles’s feelings for the man were of a different sort than his adoration of his canines.
Spado and his other dogs, they inspired uncomplicated love. Unfettered joy. Unspoken devotion. They put him above all else and demanded the return of equal faith and loyalty. They brightened his day, lightened his load and made him forget his troubles, if only for a little while.
Master Kenway…
Charles sighed, fingers stilling in soft fur.
Master Kenway inspired admiration and distant longing. The knowledge of what he would always want and could never attain. The bitter knowledge that this remarkable, worthy man, this dignified and handsome Alpha who had led the Colonial Templars had wasted his affections on a Native slut undeserving of him.
Thoughts of Haytham Kenway caused him to look at the window at the far corner of the manor. Though he could not catch a glimpse of the figure within, he knew that Connor was there, undoubtedly still insensate in his bed where he’d left him after he’d taken his pleasure from him.
Unbidden, the image of the boy’s youthful body came to mind. The long, finely muscled limbs. The trim waist and shapely arse.
Charles’s breeches tightened, and he grudgingly admitted that perhaps something useful had come of the ill-advised liaison between Master Kenway and that Native bitch.
Soon, soon that flat belly will soften and round as his child grows within the boy. Soon, he’ll be able to place his hand upon the boy’s stomach and feel the baby kick. Soon, he’ll have his heir.
His eyes abruptly narrowed, and Spado yipped in distressed as Charles’s hands suddenly clawed and clenched.
He apologetically softened his touch and soothed the dog, gently soothing the ruffled fur.
Connor had miscarried only a couple of months ago and, if Matthew was correct in his diagnosis, he would miscarry again as long as he remained in his apathetic state. Charles’s plan of combining the great lineage of Master Kenway with his own and leveraging the famous eyes of the Kenway line would fail. He would lose this child like he had lost the last son.
That was not to be borne.
But, for the life of him, he could not figure out how to deal with it. How does one revive an enemy without re-arming him? Charles went through too much trouble to de-claw the boy. He did not want to undo his hard work.
A series of happy barks interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced up to see one of the man-servants with the rest of his pack.
“There you are, sir,” the man-servant bowed respectfully. The other Pomeranians yipped happily around the man, following him obediently as he neared Charles.
“Are they well?” He inspected each carefully to make sure they were in the perfect of health.
“Perfectly, sir. They are happy and contented as can be.”
“And their meal?”
“Consumed with gusto, sir. Their appetites are healthy and,” the man-servant’s voice hushed in reverence, “one of them is pregnant.”
Charles raised his eyebrows in surprise. His eyes went to the only girl in his pack. “You are sure?”
The man nodded. “Positive, sir. I took them to the animal doctor earlier today, and he confirmed that she is with pups.”
Charles laughed with joy, ecstatic at the news. The breeding had taken, and his lovely girl had given him a new brood!
Suddenly, remembering the last pregnancy he had been around, he hurriedly turned to his man-servant.
“Is she healthy?”
A nod. “Yes sir. The doctor has informed me that she had formed close and happy bonds with the rest of the dogs as well as her obvious affection for you, and that, if things continue the way they are, she’ll deliver 3 puppies.”
Charles breathed a sigh of relief and lifted a reverent hand to pet his girl. She would be fine, her puppies would be fine, and she won’t miscarry or lose the litter like…
His brain suddenly halted and thought to what his servant had said. An idea formed in his mind, tempting, but dangerous.
Bonds, the man had said. Close and happy bonds and affection.
Furiously, he struggled to remember what Matthew had told him earlier.
Something to fight for…isolated…
The idea coalesced and his eyes widened.
He glanced at the lone window again.
“Take the dogs back to their rooms and be sure to give them their treats,” he instructed his man-servant.
“Sir?” the man said, puzzled. Charles didn’t blame him. He was typically a man of routine, and here he was, breaking that routine.
“I have affairs to take care of.”
He stood abruptly and called for his cloak, hat and gloves, glancing at the lonely window all the while.
It was time to make a house-call to James Collins, and see how the man was doing with his prize Omega.
It was time to see if Clipper Wilkinson could help him with his goals.