Chad was humiliated, he knew he belonged to El Diablo, and he felt good about it. But he didn't want El Diablo or the gang members to know, but his massive erection as he knelt on the dirt floor was impossible not to notice. He looked down and licked his lips. His senses seemed to heighten. He could hear all the men's heart beats as they approached. He could smell them too, but the smell of his master was strongest or most intense in his mind. His eyes drifted upward, and stopped at his master's crotch. He licked his lips, and spoke, "El maestro, que servicio."
"Heh, heh, close enough," laughed the master, but perros don't speak English or Spanish, do they, Chadito?"
Chad pursed his lips, as he thought. He was having trouble thinking. Everything was smell and sound, and emotion. He knew what he had to say, "Woof?"
"Good boy," laughed the jefe tousling Chad's curly yellow locks.
"Hey, I thought he was going to be a bitch?" said one of the guys next to the master.
"Yeah, bitch, boy, dog, man - don't matter now, I own it," laughed El Diablo.
"Okay, boss, whatever you say," said the man in a disappointed tone.
Chad moaned softly as he felt his body changing. The pants cinched around his waist sagged in spite of the chain. The tight boxers and t-shirt, seemed to fit just right now. All the guys seemed to loom taller, it was like he lost inches in height while kneeling there. He was frightened, but the presence of his master reassured him that everything was as it should be.