Domesticating a Wild Dog Pt. 01

Hir body was trembling all over now. The buzz of the wand on hir dick, the finger - no, fingers pumping into hir cunt... Somewhere in the back of hir brain sie thought about escaping, leaping off the table and making one last stand. But sie was too consumed by pleasure, by a deep instinct for obedience, to do anything other than hir mistress's will. Sie realized sie was moaning. But puppies don't moan. Sie switched to desperate, pathetic whimpers. They became full on barks, yips, and then whines as hir inevitable orgasm hit, her whole body spasming until sie collapsed face-first onto the exam table. Sie felt Dr. Deviant pat hir head.

"Good boy... such a good boy..."

Over the next several weeks, Dr. Deviant and her assistants ran Terrier through rigorous obedience training. They made hir do tricks - sit, stay, come, roll over, lick, suck, spread, present - rewarding hir by using the wand to bring hir to another yelping, whimpering orgasm. Or using their fingers. Or cock. Whatever the technician thought was best. Terrier wasn't picky. When they weren't using hir cunt they kept it locked away with a cage attached to a harness that wrapped around hir waist, so sie couldn't get hirself off, even by humping hir hands as hard and desperately as sie could. The orgasms that sie was allowed were both a treat and a relief from the desperate arousal that coursed through hir body. Sie truly felt like sie was in heat.

Every orgasm sie was granted was accompanied by the sound of a clicker and followed by a pat on the head and a good boy. Once the association between clicker and pleasure had been firmly established in hir mind, they started using only the clicker to train hir. Just the sound of it was enough to make hir cunt drip with Pavlovian arousal, and the withholding of orgasms for only very special occasions made hir even more desperately eager to please.

There was almost nothing left of Terrier, the person, when the good people at Violation, Inc. were done. Only as promised, a slutty little puppyboy in heat. Sie slept in a crate, ate food and water from bowls on the ground, and would obey any command for the promise of praise and orgasms. Sie even had a collar with hir new name on the tag. They'd trained hir to recognize it, made hir cum over and over again until Tobi Lee and Terrier were meaningless words to hir, and Fuckpuppy was all sie responded to. Sie was ready to climb into a crate, to be packed away and shipped to hir new owner.

Back in the alley where Terrier was captured, Nightwytch closed a chalk circle on the pavement, completing the sigil, and her spell sprang to life. Whispers and images started flooding into her head. Tracking the spot down had been easy - just follow the trail of destruction and bullet casings. Whoever had taken hir after that had been great at covering their tracks. But they clearly weren't used to dealing with magic. Nightwytch knelt over the magic circle, propping herself up with her cane in one hand as she adjusted the sigils, refining the signal. The key component of the tracking spell - a deeply personal belonging - lay at the center of the circle. Nightwytch hoped Terrier didn't mind that she'd borrowed hir vibrator. She was in a rush, and it was the first thing she could think of to grab, and if the orgasms she heard through the walls were any indicator, it was a deeply personal belonging. Terrier might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but sie was Nightwytch's friend. And, more importantly, her roommate. Sie still owed hir half of the month's rent.

There were flashes of a lab coat, of an ID badge with something written on it - Violation, Inc. Nightwytch shuddered, remembering what they'd done to Toxina. She'd run into her once after. Nightwytch couldn't stop thinking about the encounter. The worst part was that thinking about it had given Nightwytch several fetishes she didn't know even existed before...

She closed her eyes. Concentrate. There was a truck. A phone call. A collar. The voice on the phone was arranging delivery. A cheerful voice. The one on the other end was gravelly, cigarette-rich.

Speed Queen.

Nightwytch leaned into her cane and stood up, pocketing the vibrator in her coat and rubbing out the chalk circle with her shoe. This was going to be a challenge...