By Any Other Name Ch. 02

After a long pause, she pulled Lilra back and smirked down at her. "Silly darling pet. I was just asking you to say Yes, Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress," Lilra whimpered reflexively. Then she realized what Mistress was saying, and heat flooded her face, a rich and conflicting wash of pleasurable embarrassment.

"But..." Mistress booped her on the nose fondly. "Goodness, sweet darling thing, you do enjoy this, don't you?" Lilra whimpered and tried to shake her head, but she couldn't, not with the eyes holding her. "Such an easy, adorable thing. You just want to be my cute, adorable little pet, don't you?"

"N-No..." Lilra was already trying desperately to reclaim some semblance of dignity as the intensity of the control—surely it had been control—seemed to ebb, but it was only being replaced with an exquisite, overwhelming sense of her own humiliation. She swayed, weak on her feet, but she wrested a semblance of control back from Mist... Miss Gallica.

The woman didn't seem to care, or even notice. "Of course you do," she enthusiastically cooed. "Yes you do! Yes you do!" Lilra opened her mouth to object, but felt a dopey smile spreading across her face as the praise drowned her in condescending adoration, brain-melting patronizing affection. "Who's my silly girl? Who's my pretty girl?" Miss Gallicia's eyes were as radiant as emerald moons, and her grin widened. "Ooh, you looove this, huh?"

"Please," Lilra whimpered, feeling the trance of pleasure only deepened with every indulgent stroke of her hair. Her knees were giving way. She couldn't last much longer, and she couldn't... oh, gods, the thought of being on her knees...

"Goodness me." Miss Gallica tutted, cradling Lilra's face in her hands and smooshing her cheeks together. She gave a little indulgent shake of her head, her voice as soft and delicate as a kitten's tongue. "You are a needy one, aren't you?"

Lilra whined. She couldn't muster words right now. She was too... too squishy. Too soft. Too dizzy.

"Yes, you are!" Miss Gallica cooed. "Oh, sweet little one, listen to you whine like a puppy."

Lilra tried so hard not to show any response. She honestly did. At least, she thought she did. But she couldn't help it. She was an open book, a helpless puddle of goo in Miss Gallica's claws, and she felt her whole face burning with humiliation when she heard "puppy."

"Oh!" Miss Gallica giggled with faux shock. "Does my pretty girl like that?"

"Um." Lilra's knees wobbled. "Um. I. I." She couldn't form words for the pure, unwanted, helpless pleasure flowing through her. She felt like she was glowing, radiant. She had never felt so wonderful. "I. Please. I."

"Are you..." Miss Gallica silenced her with a finger to the lips, smiling sadly, a poisonous sympathy. "... are you just a little puppy, my sweet?"

Lilra trembled as the word trickled into her ears like the hottest, sweetest syrup. She gasped. Oh. No. Oh, no. She'd given herself away. No. Please, no. Miss Gallica couldn't know. Not that. Anything but that!

"Am I right?" Miss Gallica asked slyly. Her voice was silken, delicate, dainty. And distinctly amused. "Am I right, my darling pet? Oh, my goodness, is that what youwant?"

"N-No!" Lilra squeaked, trying to shake her head while being cradled in Gallica's hands. "No, I... I just..."

"Yes, it is!" Miss Gallica exclaimed. And suddenly, it was her birthday, the woman's whole face lighting up as she beamed down at Lilra with an expression of purest glee. "Oh my goodness gracious, darling, you are even more adorable than I'd dreamed."

"No," Lilra whimpered as a secret thrill raced through her. "No, I—"

"Quiet, Puppy. Mistress is talking." Miss Gallica stroked her hair. "In fact..." Lilra felt her voice leaving her. "Why, my goodness, Puppy, who ever heard of a silly, submissive puppy on her hind legs?"

Standing. Lilra's world spun as Miss Gallica began to release her grip. She wanted to plead, to beg, as she suddenly realized that she was far too woozy, far too drunk on love and hypnosis and perfume to stand up straight.

But puppies weren't supposed to stand, she found herself giggling as she sank to her hands and knees.

Immediately, she knew she was doomed, as she realized that she had allowed Miss Gallica to back her up right above the mysterious flowers. She was sinking. swooning right into the flowerbed, right into the midst of the sweet, intoxicating roses.

Her world swam as the last of her feeble resistance gave away. She gazed up at Mistress with a sinking feeling as Gallica giggled with glee. "So easy!" the gorgeous seductress exclaimed, and leaned down to stroke Lilra's hair, to caress her cheek.

And Lilra, to her red-faced shame, found herself leaning into the touch.

She just couldn't help herself. Couldn't even try to resist the need that was filling her up. She felt deeply humiliated and yet unbelievably... wonderful. She so badly wanted Mistress to stroke her hair. To stroke her cheek. To take care of her. It took her breath away and made her head spin and all she wanted was...

... was more.

And as she breathed in the perfume mixed with the surprisingly similar scent of the roses, Lilra found herself giggling and smiling up, finding it dreadfully difficult to remember why she ever wouldn't want that.

"Why, darling little Puppy," Mistress cooed, "is that nice? Is it nice being a good puppy?" She giggled as Lilra visibly struggled to hold in her reply. "Go ahead, puppy! You don't need to speak if speaking is hard. Speakingis hard, isn't it?"

That comment made Lilra's heart flood with fear—increasingly drowned as it was in honey and roses—and she struggled to muster objection of any kind. "I..." Lilra swallowed. "N-No, I..."

"Words are so hard for silly puppies," Mistress cooed, in the tone one would use in addressing an especially cute, silly pet. "So hard for silly puppies to speak."

"No, I..." Lilra struggled to find the words. Words were hard. "I c... I..." Words were so hard. They seemed to slip away from her as soon as she was forming the shapes with her lips, and she was left blinking up stupidly at Mistress, feeling utterly humiliated. She could speak! She knew words! Lots of words! Like, um... um... "..."

"So easy to just whine and whimper and bark like the adorable puppy you are, isn't it?" the victorious woman smirked. She continued to pet and stroke the helpless girl, continued to lavish her with affection, and Lilra was finding it so, so difficult to keep her thoughts straight with Mistress's words flowing into her, pushing out all other thoughts, as if Mistress was the one thinking every thought for her right now.

"Um... um..." Lilra clung to that sound, that pathetic whine, even as she struggled for another word. She couldn't. She couldn't allow Mistress to take her speech from her!

Not that she'd spoken much anyways. Lilra bit her lip, feeling so pathetically helpless, trying to convince herself her words mattered. And it felt so nice being petted. She heard herself whining, eyelids fluttering with delight at the petting. The scritching. She heard Mistress cooing "Good puppy. Gooooood puppy," and she positively felt her tail wagging.

And she finally thought of the words.

"Arf!" she managed, blinking big, helpless eyes up at Mistress.

And her eyes lit up. "Arf!" she exclaimed. "Arf arf!" She smiled triumphantly, despite her fear, despite her vulnerability. She could speak! She still had some words! Relief welled inside her, mixed with the tiniest, faintest bit of disappointment—a strange voice she quickly silenced. She was okay. She was still holding on to something. Mistress hadn't won yet.

That said, she was a little confused to see Mistress... only giggling at her. She blinked rapidly, disoriented. Mistress didn't seem disappointed at all. In fact, Mistress seemed quite... delighted.

Lilra frowned. "Arf?" She whined, cocking her head, trying to...

And her heart stopped.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

"That's right," Mistress cooed, not even bothering to hold in her peals of musical laughter. "Oh, how adorable—that is the cutest—the most unbearably sweet thing I have ever seen, little Puppy! Oh my goodness!" She dropped down to a crouching position, cradling Lilra's face in her hands, flooding Lilra with those delighted green eyes. "Darling, adorable Puppy, what ever are we going to do with you?"

Lilra stared into the eyes and whimpered.

She had never felt so wonderful in her life. She felt like she had fallen further than she could have ever imagined, and it had only taken... what? A few seconds? A minute or two? She felt like her face couldn't possibly be any closer to a sunset, and still, the shame washing through her made her feel like she was about to melt into the ground on the spot, melt into Mistress's hands, putty in her claws, a sun melting right into the horizon of an endless ocean.

But she also felt so... so... right. She squirmed in embarrassment as Mistress cooed and fawned over her, savoring the attention, the petting, the stroking, and heard herself barking pathetically when she was asked to. Mistress asked so very sweetly. She asked so very sweetly, and Lilra just wanted to be a good, good Puppy...

Felt so good... to be a good Puppy... Her eyelids felt so heavy, and she felt so, so good to sink... to melt...

"You're doing so well for me, Puppy," Mistress breathed, stroking and cradling Lilra's face in her soft, dainty hands, her delicate fingertips grazing under Lilra's chin, behind her ears. "You're doing so well for me, sweet silly Puppygirl."

"Arf," Lilra whined. She couldn't tear her eyes from her mistress. It felt so... so easy... so easy to submit, and so hard to think...

"Good Puppy!" Lilra quivered with pleasure at the words. The towering woman smirked, straightening slightly. "Do you like this? Do you really like this?"

Lilra bit her lip. She felt so heavy. So leaden. Like someone had poured honey into her head, thick, heavy, gooey honey. She couldn't think, but she knew... something about this, surely, surely she could try to resist this, could fight it off, could fight her mind free if she just...

... just... breathed... deep... Her eyelids fluttered, and a low whine escaped her.

"Aww." The coo of delight centered Puppy's whole world. "You're just so adorable, Puppy! Doing so well for me. Being such a good puppy. Such a good, silly, brainless little Puppygirl, huh?"

"Uh-huh," Lilra—Puppy—the submissive thing whined, trembling under the weight of her submission, her embarrassment, her total degradation. "Uhhh... uh-huh..."

"You like these?" Mistress's grin widened as her voice turned silky-sweet. Her hand grazed ever-so-faintly over her hair. "You like these headpets, Puppy?"

Yes. Yes, she did. Lilra whined, wiggling and squirming, her cheeks turning coral-pink at the degradation, but helpless not to adore every second of it.

"You do?" Mistress giggled, as if surprised. Scandalized. But she kept faintly petting, ever-so-subtly. "Do you really? And here I thought you wanted me to leave!"

"Uh! Uh-uh!" Lilra was trying so hard to muster words, but she had no idea in her emptying head what she actually wanted to say. She just wanted more. She whimpered. She just wanted more touch. More affection. More headpets from her mistress, from this gorgeous... gorgeous...

"Goodness," the woman purred, as she caressed Lilra's forehead, and the little puppy whimpered, whined, pleaded wordlessly for the hands to go back atop her head, to resume the petting, "so fortunate I found you. A submissive, weak-willed, easily-melted little toy like you would be easy pickings, I'd imagine."

"Uh?" Lilra whined, trying desperately to make the words make sense—even as she tried even more desperately, through the fuzzy trance she was ever-so-blissfully drowning in, to make things not make sense, to act like a senseless puppy, anything her mistress wanted if only the headpets would come back...

"Aww, do we want more petting, sweetie? Do we want more petting, little pet?" Her fingertips brushed over Lilra's head, teased fingers through Lilra's long blonde locks. "Do we want more? Do we? Are we needy little Puppy? A needy, touch-starved little pet?"

Lilra struggled to find words, but as the touches tantalized her, she found her eyes rolling back into her head. Her tongue lolled out slightly in humiliating panting. "Uh-huh," Lilra managed, unable to keep from whining, from breathing in more and more of the intoxicating scents around her poor thought-sloshing head. "UH-huh!"

"Do you wanna beg for it, sweet thing?" The voice dripped with smug triumph. "Is that it? Do we wanna beg like a cute little needy puppygirl?"

The words seeped into Lilra, an endless flow of hypnotic promise. The girl couldn't help herself. She couldn't resist anymore. If she'd ever had a hope of resisting, she gave it up now willingly.

Because she needed more.

She needed more, needed more, more, more—"Y-yes," Lilra whimpered, helpless and small, utterly in thrall as she lay there on her hands and knees at the feet of someone far greater. "Uh-huh!"

"You wanna beg?" Mistress cooed. "You wanna beg, puppy? Does Puppy wanna beg like a cute little subby pet?"

"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" Lilra found her head bobbing needily. The humiliation was flooding her almost as fast as the need, but not fast enough to stop her. It almost felt like...

... like it was... helping her along, in fact. Oh, gods. She whimpered. It felt so good. So easy. So perfect. So good and easy to sink and submit and debase herself for Mistress. She couldn't get enough of it.

"Go ahead, then! Be my guest, cutie!"

"Um." Lilra felt a sudden panic inside her as the hand pulled away. Mistress rose up so she was resting a hand on each knee, bowing over Lilra, waiting expectantly. Her eyes were so bright and eager. Those eyes expected Lilra to be a good Puppy, Lilra knew. Those eyes were inviting Lilra to... to...

It was like she was a puppet on a string—a pretty marionette, with beautiful green eyes tugging her threads—as with barely any hesitation, Lilra found herself rising up. Rising up onto her knees.

And her hands rose into the air, limp at the wrists, like... like she was... a puppy, sitting on her hindlegs, begging...

And begging she was. She whined aloud, whimpering with all the pathetic powerlessness of the most submissive, pathetically eager puppygirl anyone had ever seen. Please, she implored wordlessly, as words had long since been taken from her. Please. Please. Please.

More headpets. More petting. More stroking. More scritches. Anything. Anything for more touch. More affection.

More debasing, humiliating love.

And Mistress smiled, leaned down, and rewarded her with the sweetest, tenderest of soothing strokes over Puppy's pretty hair. "Goooood Puppy!" she cooed, radiating her delight, positively glowing with happiness, and Puppy quivered and nodded submissively, leaning helplessly into the touch, into her mistress's embrace. "See? This is what I mean."

"Arf?" The girl who was once Lilra couldn't help herself anymore. She just wanted to hear more. She wanted to know what Miss Gallica, what Mistress, what this dangerous fey who had so effortlessly brought her literally to her knees—and beyond—had in store for her.

She told herself she was trying to watch out for herself, to be at least a little bit careful even as she plummeted into the fey's power.

She wasn't.

"Any other rose dryad would have just taken you for a typical human gardener! A pretty thing like you? A pretty flower, some decoration for their garden." She patted the former botanist's cheek. "They wouldn't have understood what makes you so special. What makes you mine."

She leaned in close, and her pet whimpered as the eyes flooded her vision with verdant oceans. "Oh, Puppy, sweet, silly, good Puppy..." She giggled. "Who could have guessed that you were not bound for the garden at all?"

"Uh?" The puppygirl felt her heart racing. She had no idea what she was being told, but the touches, the strokes, the petting, it was all getting much, much more affectionate, and she was absolutely drowning in it, absolute gasping for it, desperate for more

More brainwashing.

More seduction.

More debasement.

More Mistress.

More Puppy.

"Silly thing." She smiled, and without warning, she leaned in—

—and scooped her pet up into her arms. Puppy squeaked, realizing how deceptively strong the rose dryad was as she was cradled in Mistress's arms and carried over to a bench. They sat down—or rather, Mistress sat down, still holding her pet in her lap.

"You see, Puppy," the dryad said sweetly, booping the dazed puppygirl on the nose again, "it just so happens that I've been looking for a little... a little more than a mere decoration." She rested her forehead against Puppy's. The eyes literally filled Puppy's vision now. "And I think you would look so cute adorning the foot of my bed. Don't you?"

Oh. Puppy stared helplessly into those eyes.

And she drifted.

She drifted in daydreams. She couldn't help it. With what tiny, weak vestiges of will Lilra retained, she couldn't help but imagine being obedient just like her mistress said. Being on her bed, at the foot, curled up, whimpering and whining every night as Mistress held her. Played with her. Stroked her hair. Told her how cute and pretty and good she was.

Would she be taken for walks? Would she be kept in a cage? Would she have her own little collar, her own leash? Would she always be lost in this sweet, sappy rosy scent? Puppy didn't know. But she knew one thing:

She would be whatever Mistress wanted her to be. Because Mistress knew what Puppy wanted better than Puppy did.

"Would we like that?" she cooed smugly.

Puppy trembled in Mistress's arms. So quickly she had sunk down. It had felt like an eternity, in truth—an eternity of trembling and begging and struggling, an eternity of trying and failing to resist. An eternity of futile squirming in this fey's power, just as now she physically squirmed, longing to never leave this tender cuddling, this calming, warm, loving embrace.

"You can speak, pet," Mistress said, smiling with that same mix of sweetness and poison.

And Puppy spoke. She spoke truthfully, she spoke honestly, with all the willpower left to her.

"Do I get a collar?" she whimpered.

And Mistress beamed.

"I knew you were a delight," she said slyly, "when I saw my little flowers making you blush so."

Puppy bit her lip. And when she realized her mistress wanted her to respond, she nodded meekly.

"Of course, pet." Mistress stroked Puppy's hair, giggling. "Of course you'll have a collar. A pretty collar for my pretty pet. Don't you worry about that!"

Okay. Puppy nodded again, even meeker, and allowed Mistress to hold her close, allowed her eyelids to lower, as she rested her head in the crook of Mistress's neck and lost herself, breathing in slowly, breathing in that languorous sweetness and letting it turn the last of her clever thoughts into sleepy, melty, mesmerized mush.

"You don't have to worry about a thing anymore," her mistress purred in her ear, and Puppy shivered at how wonderful that sounded. "Doesn't that sound nice, pet?"

A tiny shred of Lilra tried to voice an objection. Tried to complain. Tried to protest.

So Puppy decided to speak first, squirming slightly and giving a happy, "Yip!"

She heard Mistress laughing, and she beamed, breathing in the scent of Mistress's rose-scented hair, and let her eyes close at last.