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Summary
“This year, you’re going to be my little cockhound!” Master exclaims, eyes glued to Holes, gauging his reaction, “You’re going to crawl around, stick out your little tongue, bark for cock, and make sure everyone at the party uses your pretty mouth.”
Holes’ stomach drops.
That's impossible.
Even if he can theoretically blow every single one of the nearly hundred guests invited before the end of the party, which is doubtful, many are likely to not be interested at all and refuse to use him, no matter how prettily he begs.
Basically, he’s fucked.
He tries not to let his worry show on his face. Tells himself that this is all a game for Master to get a reaction out of him. Holes takes a breath to steel himself and sticks his tongue out like a good dog. He may be doomed to fail this task, but Master will not be able to say he did not try.
Master reaches out his hand and lifts Holes’ chin until their eyes meet. “If you fail, Holes, I’m going to plug and seal one of your holes for the entire year.”
What the fuck?
Holes flinches, cursing himself internally as he tries to regain his composure. All he can do is try his best to avoid finding out what his master means.