Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Pain is a no go, then.”

A mass of fluffy blonde hair shook in an embarrassed ‘no.’

“The point of the training is to discourage the unwanted behavior. To make it unpleasant to even contemplate. To align instinct and will to a common cause.”

One thin red eyebrow raised.

“A punishment that’s more of a reward would be counterproductive. I have something for this.”

Barghest wasn’t shaking…anymore. She’d snapped at the dummy Master, gotten spanked for it, and…well, Scathach was Scathach; whatever they were both getting out of this one way, the other took priority. Whatever else this was, this was training, and Scathach did not fail training, and Gawain of any prefix did not shy from it.

The witch, the terrific in all senses witch, withdrew a spray bottle from…it was definitely magic, that outfit had negative pockets.

“We’ll soon find out how similar your tastes are to my last dog. Fail, and I spray your tongue with this.”

There was no forewarning as to what was in the bottle. The outside was opaque, the seal strong enough even Barghest couldn’t smell within.

After the next failure, she still had no idea of what was exactly in it, beyond “hell.” Wasabi might have been involved at some point, from the stinging, distinctly unsexy pain in her mouth, but the primary flavor was just bad.

It worked.

The next time, she lasted a solid minute more before pulling back of her own accord as the hunger grew stronger. The self-control got her precisely three seconds of wonderful head scritches, enough to both be a fitting reward and leave her wanting so much more.

“Good girl. Wait a bit and then try again.”

—x-xxx-x—————————-

It wasn’t just pavlovian training. There were runes on the “muzzle” (it kept her from biting down all the way, it counted), runes on the leash, runes carved into the bronze collar; all for the clearing of the mind, the warding off of evil, the strengthening of the heart. An actual dog would be trained perfectly in minutes. A certain blacksmith’s hound, Scathach assured, was given a much-needed dram of impulse control by similar means in less than a full day.

It had been two weeks. They had just now got to the realistic dummy master, with a borrowed shirt for the smell and a face made by Da Vinci.

Her record before the urge to consume became unignorable was five minutes.

Destiny-bound curses, the Witch of Dun Scaith grumbled more than once, were an absolute bitch and a half.

(There was history in that complaint, Barghest could feel it. She remembered her most famous student’s face, with so much experience crammed into so little age, and managed another thirty seconds.)

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Let it never be said that that the Scottish pseudogoddess was incapable of learning. After the progress slowed to a halt at the seven minute mark (nearly halfway there, the goal was fifteen, fifteen minutes was enough to…well, they’d spent time making sure of it), she took a cue from Master and threw another Servant at the issue.

“I won’t insult your intelligence. I’m helping you because I expect to benefit.”

Barghest’s new collar had seven amethysts studded in it. For a clear mind, for a strong soul. The leash was slack in Scathach’s spear-callused hand, her tongue was panting, and her head was just past Ishtar’s bare knees and stock still.

Scarlet eyes met their mirror, looking down with naked greed.

“Mmmhmm…powerful body, golden hair, a hero’s heart mixed with some actual humility and respect-really, if there wasn’t something openly inconvenient about you, I’d suspect you to be a trap woven from my very dreams to ensnare me. Neither I nor my host has ever dreamed of being eaten alive, but we have of late dreamed of you.”

Another in her place might have felt…something, anything negative about that little speech.

“Imagine. Remember your true desire and hold it in your mind. Picture yourself beneath Master, looking into their eyes…beneath Scathach, tasting her without any urge to bite down…perhaps above me, carelessly rutting away, no longer afraid of the beast, for it is tamed and trained. Not gone, not domesticated, but controlled. And you are happy, and so are we.”

They would be wrong.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

It took a solid month. It took two goddesses best efforts.

It took 4 hours, with a meditation and snack break every twenty minutes.