DISCLAIMER: This story is 100% a work of fiction. It depicts sexual activity between same-sex adults. If you are offended and this is not your cup of tea, please stop reading!

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Sebastian: tall, suave, a stylish gentleman, with European ancestry. His favorite look is sweeping back his gray hair and wearing an immaculate suit and tie. As my proud butler serving his master, he only lives to please me, his master, to the utmost of his abilities.

Journal Entry 1:

Sebastian remains the standard by which I measure every other pet. He wakes me, drinks what I give, not a drop spilled. Moreover he has anything I need or want prepared the minute I ask, then even with his jealousy he ignores all but me. Even with my docile sheep and hungry teddy bear still smelling of the night on my sheets, he kept his feelings behind a perfect facade. With his hole and his cock at the ready, the moment I asked. Loyalty like that is rarer than any contract Chan brings me, and I intend to keep rewarding my loyal dog.

Sebastian:

I woke in the early morning just as the sun begins to peek behind my curtains. A habit instilled in me for more years than the newer pets have been alive. With my black tail plug deep and warmed by my hole. A low pulse already drawing a thin line of precum from the tube locked inside my caged cock. It is part of my master’s trinkets for me; a flat steel cage pressing deep and tight against my pelvis.

Dressed in the dark: my short black jacket left open over my chest, pants opened in the right places letting my tail swing free, pristine white gloves, and the a collar bearing my master’s crest. My hair swept back, graying at the temples but still thick. At fifty I move quietly across the rooms without sound. All this, while I smile at the thought of my beloved Young Master musing my perfectly made facade.

Opening the door however, I found his bed was already full. Mathew lay on Young Master’s left, stocky and heavily tattooed. Moreover, that vile incubus tattoo showing on his abdomen, half-bared by the twisted sheet. The chef’s golden blonde hair stuck to his forehead. Theodore, the gardener, sprawled on the right, broad and hairy. He was wearing one of our Young Master’s favorite garb for him, pink lace bralette and panties. Like me he has a bear-tail plug seated between those thick cheeks. His large inverted nipples swollen dark from the night’s use.

Both had an arm looped over my young master’s nude torso. Sheets smelling of sweat, perfumed oil, and the smell of spilled cum. A simmering jealousy rose behind my chest. They had kept him long past the hour I put the mansion to sleep.

Still, I am the one who wakes him, the one who knows how he prefers his glass of water, what outfit he will want for the day. So, with the bubbling envy and jealousy pushed down. I make sure I look perfect. After all, a good butler does not let ones face become a window to his turmoil.

With practiced motion, I crawled up from the foot of his bed, licking the arch of his right foot, then the left, tongue sliding between those toes. Sucking each toe with as much gentle hunger I can release. The Young Master stirred along with the two interlopers, yet they did not wake. I worked higher under his duvet, licking his soles and calf. My cheek now touching his thigh and my tail wagging so he would see it the moment his eyes opened.

“Sebastian,” he said, voice low and gravelly. His voice already carrying the commanding presence of a master, all this, before his morning ablutions. “Well, here is my good dog. Right on time, as always. Should you be a second late, i might believe the world will be ending.”

The praise cooled my jealousy immediately. Showing my joy at his praise I licked higher, making sure this moment remains mine, excluding the sleeping two. The Young Master’s cock and full balls lay soft and heavy against his lean thighs. Reaching for me, one of his hands found my hair and petted me.

“I need to piss, my sweet pet. Why don’t you go deeper and have a good drink. I hope you do not spill a drop on my sheets. Well, knowing you, that would be impossible.”

I opened my mouth and swallowed his manhood whole. And no sooner than I put his meaty, flaccid cock, bitter-sweet salty piss flowed down my tongue. I tastes of the late night drink and meal he had with the two. If not for our master’s delicious piss quenching my parched mouth, I might have felt my jealousy rise once again.

Still I was I swallowing the steady stream, throat loose so the flow never slows, never touching the linen nor skin… Young Master sighed, hips relaxing, as he emptied himself in long pulses while I nursed and drank every mouthful of delicious warm piss. The urethral tube pressed against my insides as I feel aroused. My cage throbbing at the end. When the stream ended, too early, I licked the bulbous head and shaft clean from tip to base. Then I gently pressed my cheek on the Young Master’s thigh. My tail swaying slow, controlled wagging.

“Mathew and Theodore wore me out,” he said, fingers idly scratching behind my ear. “Our sheep cooks like a devil and takes my cock like he is still desperate for my approval, well, maybe he still is. My sweet teddy gardened in the morning and pleasured me with his meaty tits before begging to be filled. Both charming in their own way.”

He paused for a moment before continuing, “But I want a bath before I face work. Wake both of them, I require tea and milk, the herbal blend from the blue tin. I want it while the water is still perfect.”

I woke the two, nosing Mathew’s tattooed shoulder, and Theodore’s hairy chest. Soon both tardy servants blinked awake. Mathew’s eyes focused quickly; the ink on his arms flexed as he pushed upright. Theodore’s large nipples, still puffy above the lace brasserie heaved as he moved. Neither looked surprised to find me already working my post.

“Tea,” our master told the two, the tone was light, yet leaving no gap for questions. “And milk to sweeten it. I want a lot. Use the blue tin, the one, Sebastian keeps ready. Bring a trolley to the bath… You have been delightful company, now be useful and quick.”

They slid off the bed at once. Mathew swiftly put on the chef’s apron that leaves his ass and cage bare, the gold rings at his nipples catching the low light. Theodore tugged the pink lace back into place around the base of his bear tail, the fabric dark where he had leaked in the night. I felt a small, private satisfaction in watching them hurry. However, outward, I only rose, offered my master my gloved arm, and led him through the dressing room into the bathroom.

The tub was already half full, steam rising, cedar oil and the moon-garden roses Theodore cuts for him drifting on the surface. I had started the taps before I ever entered the bedroom, timing the fill to the minute I expected his voice. He noticed at once. His hand settled on the back of my neck, warm and firm as he said,

“You always know when I would need something. My perfect, devout dog. My other pets entertain me. Yet you… you anticipate every decision I make. Quite the gift you have.”

I knelt at the side of the tub and soaped a fresh wash cloth. The Young Master stood naked while I washed him, beginning at the feet I had licked clean. Then working the lather, I moved his thighs, over the flaccid manhood and heavy balls, across the stomach and chest. Finally, under his lean muscular the arms, and down the long line of his sculptured back. I was thorough and unhurried. My gloved hands cleaned every inch so he would step into the water already clean. He watched me with that small, confident smile, the one that commands the whole manor, the businesses, us, his devoted pets.

“Rinse the soap,” he said. “I wish to soak in the warm water, so keep those hands working. I like how someone in this house still remembers how a morning ought to begin.”

I rinsed the Young Master with a warm pitcher, careful of his eyes, then steadied him as he sank into the warm tub. As the water rose around his chest, I peeled off my gloves, rolled my sleeves, and began to knead his shoulders, arms, working the night’s tension out of the hard muscle while the scented water lapped at his body. My cage pressed uncomfortably against the tub edge. I ignored it. Jealousy flickered again when I thought of the extraneous time the two other pets. Oh, the hours they had spent with their mouths and holes on my beloved Young Master, while I inventoried silver. The feeling was once again boiling inside. Yet my hands never paused.

After a while, Mathew and Theodore returned with the trolley: porcelain cups, the blue tin, and a small silver pot. Also, included were two realistic dildos already gleaming with oil, and a low stool. They set the arrangement where our master could see it without turning his head. With a lazy nod, they turned to each other. Mathew bent over the trolley edge, apron flipped up, the tattooed abdomen flexing as he arched. Theodore pressed a thicker dildo inside himself in one steady push. Mathew groaned, pushed back, and reached between his own legs to work the second dildo into Theodore’s lace-framed hole beside the bear tail. They fucked in short, strokes, wet sounds loud against the tile. Soon, both were panting, nipple rings and plugs shifting.

Mathew came first, pulling free just far enough to spill his milk inside of the silver pot. Theodore followed, thick spurts of his cream joining the vessel. They changed angles and did it again, then a third time, until the pot was nearly full of mixed man cream, still body-warm. Mathew stirred in the herbal leaves, poured the hot water, and added a heavy splash of their milk. He brought the cup to the marble rim.

My master drank, eyes half-closed, and made a pleased purr. “Excellent harvest as usual, my pets. Sweet, and just filthy enough. You should be proud of yourselves.”

He set the cup aside and looked at me, the smile sharpening. “In the water, Sebastian. I want my loyal bitch on my cock while I finish my drink. Do it, slowly, I intend to savor the view of that tail wagging even after your other tail comes out.”

I stepped out of my pants, cage and urethral tube still locked in place, and climbed carefully into the warm tub. Water rose around us as I straddled the Young Master’s hips. Reaching beneath myself, and eased the plug free, setting it on the rim. His cock had hardened against my thigh. Then, I guided it to my hole and sank in one long, controlled slide. I felt the familiar stretch, and the cage and my balls rested against his hard stomach and my beloved master’s manhood was fully inside me.

I rolled my hips in slow circles, milking him, water sloshing gently against the porcelain. Inside my head the jealousy spoke again: they got the night, master’s manhood, his attention. So, I take the bath, the first touch, the hour when my beloved master is only mine. Outwardly I kept my face calm, my rhythm steady, the perfect servant even while impaled myself on my master’s hardness.

Mathew glanced from his gaze on the pot, then glanced at my master. “The milk will cool if it sits, Master.”

“Then let us put it where it stays warm,” my master answered, thrusting up once, hard enough to draw a gasp I did not hide. “Sebastian’s cock womb, he is already full of me in his other womb. Empty the pot inside this estrous bitch. Plug him after, I will drink when the mood takes me, and I like my drinks warmed by my loyal dog.”

Mathew nodded once, reaching for a sterile tubing and a large syringe he keeps on the lower shelf for exactly these requests. Theodore’s big hands settled on my waist, steadying me in the water while the other slicked the thin catheter, eased it past the cage and alongside the urethral tube until it entered my bladder, and injected the mixed cream with a warm, steady stream.

I felt the strange fullness bloom in my belly, the two other pets’ milk settling inside me beneath my master’s cock. When the pot was empty Mathew withdrew the tube and seated a short steel plug in my slit, locking everything in place. The pressure made the caged length strain. I clenched around the shaft inside me and kept riding, slower now, careful not to displace the new plug.

“Dismissed,” my master told them, voice rich with satisfaction. “Kitchen and gardens, go to your posts. Both of you have been very good this morning. Go make the rest of the house as pleasant as this bath.”

Mathew bowed, apron still rucked, a streak of drying cum on his thigh. Theodore adjusted the soaked lace and the bear tail, then followed. The door closed. I was alone with him, fucking myself in steady rises and falls while he lifted the cup again and drank. The herbal scent mixed with hibiscus and rose. His free hand rested on my hip, guiding the pace without force. I leaned forward just enough that he could reach my chest if he wished. He only watched my face and the small movements of the cage.

“Look at you,” he said, the words lazy and precise. “Tight, quiet, already full of everyone else’s spend and still riding me like the morning depends on it. My sheep and bear are delightful when I want noise and novelty. You are the one who keeps the entire machine running and still presents this hole the moment I crook a finger. That is why the collar stays on you, Sebastian. That is why the others come and go from the bed and you remain.”

I rode a fraction harder at his praise, water sliding over the rim, the bladder plug shifting with every descent. “Always, Master. Your house is in order. I only bring your order. Only yours.”

He finished the tea, set the cup on the marble, and gripped both my hips. His thrusting turned sharper, controlled, the confident rhythm of a man who knows exactly how much his pet can take. I braced on the tub edges and met them, hole gripping, the base of my missing tail twitching. Then the Young Master came with a low, pleased groan, flooding me in thick pulses that pressed against the fullness already locked in my bladder. I stayed seated, milking the last spurts, then rose just enough to let him slip free. Cum began to leak at once. I reached for the steel ass plug on the rim and pushed it in, sealing his load inside me beside the earlier cocktail. The double fullness sat heavy and obscene. My caged cock jerked against his stomach.

“Now my straw,” he said, smiling as if the idea had just amused him. “Bring that cock here. I want to drink the warm mix straight from my sweet pet, and I want you to spurt your milk in my mouth when I tell you. Not before.”

I knelt in the cooling water between his legs, unclipped the cage just far enough to free the swollen head, and offered it. He took the shaft in hand, thumbed the urethral plug free, and closed his mouth over me. The warm cocktail flowed at once, Mathew and Theodore’s loads mixed with the fresh cum already backwashing through me. He drank in long, unhurried swallows, tongue working my open slit, then nipped my sensitive crown and the underside with sharp little bites that made my thighs jump. Pain sparked straight to my balls, but I held still, shaking, waiting for his word.

“Cum for me,” he ordered around my flesh, voice muffled and entirely certain. “Now, Sebastian. Give your master the last of it.”

I obeyed. The orgasm tore through the ache of the cage and the long stretch of the tube I wear most mornings. I spurted hard into his mouth, my own thinner release joining the cocktail he was already swallowing. He nipped once more, gentler, almost fond, and drank until nothing remained, then licked me clean and watched while I re-secured the cage with steady fingers. I was trembling, hole plugged and full, bladder finally empty, chest heaving above the water. None of it showed on my face beyond the flush he expects.

He stood. I rose with him, fetched the warmed towels from the rail, and dried every inch with the same care I had used to wash him: feet, legs, cock and balls, stomach, chest, arms, back, the damp hair at his nape. The red silk robe waited on its hook. I held it open, settled it across his shoulders, and tied the sash so the knot sat exactly where he likes it. He cupped the back of my head, thumb stroking once behind my ear.

“Good job, old loyal pet. The morning is yours until luncheon, so keep the others from tripping over one another, and keep yourself ready. I may want your services again before the afternoon.”

I knelt, pressed my forehead and lips briefly to his bare foot, before rising. The jealousy from before had gone quiet, replaced by the familiar, solid weight of duty. “Thank you, Master. Your domain will remain moving smoothly by your guiding hand. Post will be sorted. Of course, I am yours, first and last. The others’ may make a mess of your nights, but I will be here in your mornings, with your warm baths, keeping the world moving by your will, and I will make sure they are kept perfect.”

He smiled, small and satisfied, the expression of a master who has never doubted that my loyalty will forever remain his. Then he walked toward the dressing room, robe softly fluttering. Gathering the used cloths, checking the drain, setting my tail and cage back into their proper places on my body. I left the bathroom already listing the next three tasks in my mind. A perfect butler does not waste time. One simply makes certain that when the master next extends his hand, his loyal hound is already there, wagging, devout, and waiting to be showered with his finite attention.

Please do not put identifiable details in the comment section. Safety and privacy first!