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Language:
English
Series:
Part 23 of fox's kinktober 2024
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Published:
2024-10-24
Words:
397
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
6
Kudos:
19
Bookmarks:
2
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263

good dog

Summary:

day 23: praise kink (dobermann/whislash)

Work Text:

Words can't describe how good pupspace feels. Pupspace has no words. It's all emotions, textures, feelings, pain, pleasure. But not words.

"Long day, huh?"

"Just Catapult being Catapult."

Zofia chuckles, helping her strip her day clothes off her body, until she is standing bare in the middle of their room.

"You're too harsh in that girl, I keep telling you. She's not a bad kid."

"Zofia. Don't want to talk about work right now."

"Sorry, sorry."

The doors to the far closet are thrown open, and Zofia rubs her hands eagerly, eyeing the rows of leather and latex and other more exotic materials that live within.

"How extreme are we feeling today?"

"Fuck me up."

"That's what I like to hear. Good girl."

She can already feel her tail starting to wag behind her, wearing circles on her lower back as Zofia emerges with an armful of black fabrics.

This is the ritual. She stands, and obeys instruction as Zofia moves around her, helping her dress. Every piece accompanied by Zofia'a gentle voice, murmuring "Good girl. Good puppy." And every time, another layer of her slips a little farther away, and he trail wags just that much harder.

Tight, leather shorts, that Makayla got for her last Eventide. Latex socks, up to her mid thigh, tight and slick and ever so slightly uncomfortable. Kneepads and boots, specially reinforced to protect her knees that Zofia forces her down onto. "Good girl, sitting so pretty for me."

Leather sleeves, that cover her aching shoulder, smooth and firm against her skin. A harness that buckles between her shoulder blades, through her crotch, under her armpits and around her breasts. "That's it, puppy, doing so good."

Her mitts, leather worn soft with age, curling her hands into paws. "Good dogs don't need thumbs, now, do they? And you're a good dog, yes you are."

By the time Zofia tucks her ears through the fabric of her hood, hands gentle on her face as she settles it into position, Dobermann is gone, melted by affection and praise and attention until she can do is feel herself slick beneath her shorts and her tail wagging as she presses her muzzle against her owner, leaning against her with her full weight and a satisfied sigh as Zofia rubs at her neck, her ears, and tells her she's the most perfect dog in the world.

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