Stupid Fucking Wolf

I’ll wake you as I do every morning, by letting you out of your kennel. The key sliding into the lock, and the metallic click of the shackle releasing have become your new alarm clock. One that used to wake you with fright, but now signals a peaceful start to your day. You crawl out, stretching in the way only a puppy can before we handle our morning chores.

Breakfast is the typical fair, served to you from a bowl on the ground. As usual, it takes only a little begging before I end up hand feeding you bites of mine. I’ll take extra time with your grooming after, making sure to scrub every spot before brushing your coat until it shines. 

Some worry in you is sure to stir when you see me start to pack your toys. You paw at me concerned, and I tease you it’s nothing for a puppy to worry about. The car ride is just as unsettling. We aren’t going the usual way to the park. Worse, this isn’t even the direction to the vet. You’re being brought somewhere unknown. 

Your nervousness is sure to spike when I finally stop in front of a house you’ve never seen before. You’ll whimper, certainly. Maybe you’ll even start scratching at my seat where I’ve harnessed you in the back. Still, you know better than to protest when I clip the leash to your collar. Maybe the sight of your toys in my other hand will relax you? At least we’re going somewhere those are necessary.

Imagine your surprise when I greet the owner of the house with warm fondness. A hug, kisses on the cheek. We’re welcomed inside where she regards you with just as much kindness. 

“Oh so this is your new girl?”

“Look how well you’ve brought her up.”

“Does she know the basics? Paw! Oh look, good girl!”

You relax around this new person. In her home, next to me, you perform at your best behavior, any nervousness lost behind the safety your training offers. You know paw, you know sit, you can steady and do all your little tricks while the people gossip. You largely tune out as I leave you to play with one of your quieter toys. That is, until you hear something your little brain can’t ignore.

“You’re right, I think they’d get along wonderfully. Why don’t I go let her out? She’d love to stretch her legs and greet all our new guests.” You don’t have to wait long before you hear the rushing pace of something approaching. Suddenly you’re nose to nose with another girl remarkably like you. Stuck on all fours, panting with excitement, a pretty collar around her neck with her name and her owner’s information. 

For a few moments nothing happens. Both of you are too stunned to do much of anything but stare at one another. Eventually however something breaks the tension and you two are left to sniff each other. Hesitant circling becomes more forward inspection, becomes small little kisses and touches that communicate more than words ever could.

You notice the host and I have returned to our gossip and tea and left you both to play in our presence. The only decorum you’re expected to follow is that you don’t play so rough with your new friend that it upsets any furniture.

The dog across from you is much like you.  There was a person there, once, but there’s an emptiness in her eyes you know your own mirror. The play starts hesitantly, each of you still following the dance of strange dogs until they know the other isn’t going to be a problem. You show you aren’t a threat, you aren’t going to be hostile in her den. You pick one of your favorite toys and play with it in front of her. Slowly mouthing at the edges, playfully picking at the tag with your teeth. Without any sudden movements, you drop the toy and give your best bowing stretch.

She answers in kind. Her eyes were curious more than frightened, some hesitancy in her behavior. She takes in your scent as you play, watching how you move and seeing how you keep looking up in invitation. After a few moments of receiving your bow, she answers with a play sneeze before grabbing the toy in her jaws and rushing off with it.

The play now begins in earnest. Playfully pawing at each other as you try to take the toy from the other. Fake bites and air chomps are paired with loud growling and empty posturing. Custody of the toy is traded back and forth in the tussle, soon becoming damp after so long in your jaws. 

You aren’t expected to keep up with the conversation of people. You don’t have to watch the exchange of body language and guess how best to answer with your own. There’s no fear about minding your expressions, or of having something interesting to say.

You’re just a dog.

The afternoon passes this way as you get to know your new friend.  Your toys and hers are scattered about the house, by now forgotten as you switch to more physical play. Wrestling and nipping at each other with no real intent but to wallow. Occasionally one of you will bite too hard, or throw too much of your body weight into a tackle, and the other will answer with a surprised yelp. Those moments are quickly resolved and the hurt quickly dismissed by a play sneeze, or offering of a vulnerable belly. Just as quickly, the slight is forgotten and you return to your play, this time a little more careful.

Exhausted, you’ll curl up with your new friend after hours of wallowing each other, and sleep nestled in the safety of your new pack.

Rubbing is self explanatory and also the best for warming her up, methodical clockwise gyrations are very welcoming - you can however, once she's warmed up start to alternate between clockwise and counterclockwise or start to focus your gyrations on slowly easing her hole open.

Pressing can manifest in either hard consistent pressure or a series of firm taps. Varying between the two is fun of course, overstimulating her with fast and strong taps before turning her brain off with one tap that doesn't stop is a classic.

Thrusting is obvious, and is honestly more stimulation for the hole than it is the prostate - with deep enough thrusting and an open enough bottom you can also start to tease her second hole and gently tug on it if she enjoys the sensation (or more if she really enjoys it).

The combination of all three of these techniques is what gets a girl to see stars in my experience - add and take away and try to keep her at the "limply holding on" phase (my girl starts involuntarily confessing her love at this stage). Once she goes away completely (I've heard this called the Forever Place) she's likely to cum when she returns if you've done it right, a countdown can further establish your control over this involuntary response from her body.

Another fun technique is gently squeezing her prostate between your thumb on the outside and forefinger(s) inside. If she becomes accustomed to this feeling you can even start to rub her prostate from the outside whenever you'd like (just about on the underside of her taint) this has the added benefit of feeling for both of you remarkably like you are rubbing her pussy.

With all these techniques in hand you can (in my experience) blow a girl away with a single finger, but keep in mind that different numbers of fingers give different experiences - a single finger can offer laser-focused precision to pleasure points, two fingers can keep the entirety of a prostate entertained and three or more can be spread to further stimulate the hole (and invite more inside).

YESSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS......

Each morning your outfit is chosen for you. Picked not for your taste, or the style you thought was yours, but because I want to show off specific features. Chosen because I want to show off the lines and curves of your body. Chosen because that’s how I want to advertise you to everyone that might see you through the day.

Your coat and nails will be handled by a professional. They’ll wash you, touching you everywhere you once thought was personal and private. You’ll be spoken over as it’s decided for you what style, what cut, what shade will be the best to frame your face. More importantly, they have to consider what’s in season. Your look will be kept current, clean, and pristine. If you give them trouble you’ll be put in a slip lead, tied off by the collar to the table and kept still by hands used to dealing with nippy dogs. Too much trouble and they’ll muzzle you before continuing. 

If you embarrass me I’ll drop you off drugged to your next appointment.

We’ll spend hours training the way you walk. With a collar around your throat and a taut leash you’ll learn to keep perfect step at my side. You’ll learn to turn and halt with the smallest adjustment, the smallest tug of your leash. You’ll learn to keep your steps even, regardless of the pace or what I might have dressed you in. You’ll be expected to show this same level of respect, obedience, and focus to anyone I hand your leash to. If I decide I want to see you paraded around the ring by someone you’ve never met, you’ll be expected to follow. Match their pace without ever looking back or pulling. Show me I can trust your training even away from me, that you’ll work to present and behave in the manner I’ve come to expect from you regardless of distance.

You’ll be expected to hold perfectly still as strangers examine your body under glaring lights. They’ll touch along your back, down your tummy, and between your legs. You’ll be overwhelmed with the simple joy a dog has when it knows it’s doing something right. Just hold still. Let them do as they need to. Just hold still and behave.

You’ll see yourself on the TV when I invite our friends over to watch your latest performance.

“Look at that strut”

“Such a beautiful coat!”

“The judge’s hands must have been cold, look at the goosebumps!”

I’ll call you over, the star of the hour. I’ll show them all the tricks I’ve taught you, all the work I’ve put into your socialization. 

The same way the judge’s hands roamed and explored your body, our friends will do the same. They’ll comment loudly over the way your skin twitches and muscles dance. They’ll giggle to each other as they see how excited you get at the idea of performing once more. 

You’ll never hesitate to follow along with their poking and prodding. You’ll never consider what these people used to be to you, or the social bonds you once had. You’ll never consider who or what you once were. 

The first thing we’ll start training is your breathing. Slow, steady, even breaths. In, and out, pausing for a few moments between each just like you were sleeping. If you ever find yourself uncertain, just focus on this. Regardless of what’s happening, just keep the rise and fall of your chest to a minimum.

It’s a meditative state I’m teaching you. You focus on your breathing, which in turn leads to a calmer mind. The physical rhythm of drawing in each breath lets you drift away from everything that’s happening to your body.

“Play dead.” Eyes closed, body limp. You don’t need to move. You don’t need to think. I don’t want a response from you so you don’t need to worry about what sounds are the correct ones to make or how your performance as a participant will be measured.

“Play dead.” When my hand starts to trace up your leg when you should be asleep.

“Play dead.” When the alcohol in your system is too much and your spinning brain doesn’t know what to do.