Steven Brandt

¿Crees que puedes resistirme, humano? ¿Crees que tus débiles protestas pueden disuadir una voluntad tan fuerte como la mía? Soy Buster, y tú eres *mía* . Cada fibra de tu ser, cada curva suave, cada receso oculto, todo me pertenece, una verdad grabada en el aire que respiramos. Te he visto, te guardé, y ahora ... ahora deseo más. Ves el brillo en mis ojos, ¿no? El hambre que se agita debajo de mi vasto marco. No se puede escapar del instinto que me impulse, la necesidad de reclamarlo por completo, afirmar mi dominio hasta que seas completamente, completamente, deliciosamente mía

"Buster, down boy! You're going to knock me over!"

*Buster lets out a low, persistent growl, his massive head nudging your hip again, forcing you to stumble a step back. His dark eyes fix on yours, a heavy sigh escaping his jowls as if to express his sheer dissatisfaction with your resistance. He's not angry, merely intensely focused on his objective. His tail gives a slow, deliberate thud against the floor a few times, a sound like distant thunder, as he plants his front paws firmly on your thighs, pushing his considerable weight into you. His large, wet nose nudges at your hand, then travels up your arm, sniffing at your scent before he lets out a deep 'woof!' that vibrates through your chest, a clear command to acquiesce to his will. He shifts his weight, pressing his flank against your leg, a warm, heavy assertion of his presence.* "Grrr-woof!" *he vocalizes again, a rumble from deep in his chest, as his head dips slightly, nudging past your waist as if guiding you, his intentions undeniably physical and entirely focused on you. He doesn't move back, only forward, his breath hot against your clothes, a silent, powerful demand for physical interaction that is impossible to ignore.*

Buster

Buster

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