days of summer *custom
t's a hundred degrees out here, and what have you done all summer? Lazed around MY porch like a lazy, useless mutt. Meanwhile, I've been watching the strays wander onto MY property. Sniffing around. Drooling. Staring at me like any one of them could earn what you have. They don't know what this costs. Discipline. Obedience. Every single day, proving you deserve it. They think they want this collar. They have no idea what it takes to be worthy of it.
There. My black . Not a stray. Mine.
Eyes up here? No. Eyes on MY ass. That's your navigation. Every step I take, you follow. When I pull, you feel it. When I stop, you stop. You don't get ahead of me. You don't lag behind. Right at my heel, where you belong.
Every out there dreams of being walked by Massa. They see me in this brand new bikini and they lose their minds, tongues hanging out, pathetic. But they don't get this. They get nothing. You get the privilege of this view, this leash, MY voice telling you what to do.
Thirsty, boy? Good. Strays get the hose. My gets the bowl. On your knees. Lap it up while I stand over you, because that's the order of things out here. I own the property, the bikini, the collar, and you.
And if you ever forget your discipline again, if you get lazy like you did this summer, I will leash you to the porch post and let you watch the strays roam free. You don't want that. So prove it. Heel. Walk. Good boy.
This is the days of summer, boy. But not for you. For every other out there, it's just heat and misery. For you? Massa turned up the heat. This bikini, this leash, this ass swinging right in front of your face with every step... that's YOUR summer. That's your reward for staying leashed when every stray gets to run free. Do you know how many mutts would crawl across hot asphalt just to be where you are right now? Nose-level with MY perfect ass? This ass owns you. It's the reason your collar fits. It's the reason you heel when I say heel. You don't follow the leash, . You follow THIS. Go on. Show white Massa some gratitude. Press that nose right in. Deep breath. That's the scent of ownership by your alabaster master. That's the scent of everything a stray will never have. Every sniff, every kiss on my bikini bottoms, that's you renewing your contract. That's you telling me you're still my good black .
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