Training a Slave

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Her Loving Submissive

Finley groaned, lowering his head, the Doberman's nose tipping submissively down to the ground, though the carpet was more than thick enough to cushion his knees, even though the canine anthro was nude from head to toe. His striking black and rich orange-brown fur was on show, his muzzle a little narrower, a little more elegant, than what one might have expected. His tail was not docked and curled up lightly from the root of it, though the glow of colour on his muzzle was what drew the eye, the orange brown coming up closer to his left eye than his right.

"What a good little pup you are..." His owner crooned, though Mistress Elle was his wife too, even if they weren't considering that part of their relationship at that time. "Are you going to behave for me? Are you going to be a good boy? I don't keep bad boy slaves, you know..."

She looked down imperiously over him as her tail flicked back and forth, the elegant white fox with a smile on her lips, though it did not reach her eyes or bring any manner of softness to her muzzle either. Her tail was thick and full, fluffy where Finely had brushed it out for her, caring for her from head to toe. Of course, a mistress did not need to be nude unless she wanted to and she wore long, thigh-high boots with a shine to them, the black perfectly contrasting the purity of her white fur. There was a shocking heel on them too, but, well, Mistress Elle wasn't going to be walking around for much, not with a slave whimpering before her, so very eager to please her.

Finley shuddered, his eyes travelling up her body, kissing her boots softly. The dog knew that he was allowed to do that, worshipping her boots and, by proxy, the hind paws that were clad inside them too. He would spend hours upon hours on her paws too if she let him, not because strictly he had a fetish for them or anything like that, but massaging them and ensuring that his mistress didn't have to carry the stress of the day along with her in her paws was something he_could_ do for her. For a slave, it was something inside his control, something he could do for her. As much as he wanted to give up his control to his mistress, he wanted agency to please her too. It was not about being bound up into a drone-like toy, not for them.

Well, that could be hot too, but not that time, not that night. Her thighs were exposed, arctic blue underwear covering her pussy, though Finley more than knew what lay beneath. A corset cut across the bottom of her ribcage in blue and black, matching the rest of her attire, though her breasts were covered. A twinge of disappointment pulled in the pit of his stomach. He wished he had the liberty and grace to adore her breasts that night too. But that would have to come another time.

That night, he was only there to serve his mistress, to be trained in her whims and pleasure, however she pleased.

She'd been sitting in one of the dining chairs, in their shared living room - no, that was not right. He whimpered and pressed his forehead down to the ground, his backside shoved up in the air as if he was trying, even then, to expose his tail hole to her, to show her every last bit of how wilfully submissive he was. He didn't want to hold back anything from her, not from his mistress. His tail didn't need to flip up any higher than it already was, but he still submissively laid his cheek against her boot, rubbing it back and forth.

"I am a good boy, mistress..." He breathed, though it almost didn't feel right to even speak in her presence. "Please... Train your slave. I want to know everything I can do to please you, always."

Mistress Elle looked down at him imperiously, grunting deep in the back of her throat, though it was almost a sound of discontent.

"Oh, will you?" She said, turning up her nose at him as if he had done something to displease her. "Then, pup, you're going to have to prove yourself, aren't you?"

The living room was quiet around them, their house detached and the windows, of course, securely closed. There was no trouble there for them, no worry about them being overheard, more than free to play out their bedroom fantasy in every way that they knew how. Only, the dominant and submissive part of their relationship came into even more than that too, perhaps in how he could best serve Mistress Elle from the very she walked in the door at the end of a long, hard day.

"I will prove myself, mistress, I promise. How may I serve you?"

The vixen made the first go easy for him, for which Finley was grateful. He didn't want to have to guess too much, even though he would have been more than glad and grateful to adore every part of her, from head to toe, if that had been what the fox had wanted. He could do everything for her, willing to try most things, if not everything - or, at least, that was what his lust-addled mind thought in the heat of the moment. That was, at least partly, why he needed someone in control of him, someone who could temper his desires, to show him what was safe and sane, though it would always be consensual for him and her.

He moaned, slipping between her spread legs as she sat back comfortably on the sofa, though the vixen was not trying to watch TV, not when there was greater lust at play. Mistress Elle smirked down at him, though there was only love behind her gaze, for there was no one in existence who could honestly claim that, in domination and submission, love could not be present. There was no softness there, that was true, but Finley didn't need there to be.

He only needed to please, following her direction as he shoved his nose straight between her legs and lapped over her pussy through the fabric of her underwear. It was silk, high quality, and he knew he could not be like a feral creature and merely rip it from her body, no. No, it had to be treated with as much care as he always treated his mistress, always holding the fox in the highest of regards. There was nothing else that he longed for other than to please, thinking of her and her alone as he grunted, teasing her pussy in long, smooth, slow strokes of her tongue.

There was more still that he needed, but her pleasure was all he could think of. She groaned and whimpered so very softly, so very breathily, rocking her hips up to him. It was only a light roll and a push, though that was all she allowed him, training her pet, her loving pup, all so that he could please her even more sweetly.

He took his cue, taking over in the giving of pleasure as he tugged her underwear gently to the side, allowing his tongue to stroke over her folds directly, sweeping them lightly apart as it sensually dipped between them. Oh, he could have spent days savouring the honey of her on his lips, an addiction of the highest order. Why, Finley could even have gone without orgasm if it meant that he pleased his mistress, getting everything he needed from serving.

"Mmm, that's a start, pup..."

She stretched out her legs a little further for him and he could almost imagine her toes curling within her boots, missing some of the little cues from her body. Yet her pussy was so sweet that he couldn't help himself, lapping deeper and deeper, though he resolved to only get her off, that first time, using his tongue and muzzle. He wanted to show her his skills, proving himself to her as her slave and pup, always close, always lusted for, always useful to her.

That was the best thing for a slave to be in his fantasy, which he longed for, moaning for, whimpering for. His tongue delved inside her, seeking her G-spot, over and over again, flicking over it, though he knew exactly where her pleasure lay. The first time didn't have to be slow, not when there was so much more to come, and he swapped between her pussy and her clit, delving into her with long, desperate laps of his tongue and swirling back up and around her clit.

The vixen revealed signs of her need, arching up against him, though the pup didn't mind that. He wanted her to feel good, even if it meant that he had to move his head a little more quickly with her, riding out her orgasm, lust curling through the two of them in the best of ways. Yet he was the submissive one, never destined to be on top. Even if he had ever been allowed to take a top position, it just wouldn't have felt right to him and, even when he had tried that in the past with other partners, it hadn't been fun to him.

That was why he wanted to be a slave, not exactly mindless but still wanting to learn how to be better, to do better for her, always. Her clit throbbed lightly within his lips, squeezing around them, lapping and suckling, and he focused all his attention on that, pleasuring her, doing everything that he possibly could for her. Nothing else had to exist for the canine, not when he was pleasing her, listening to her little breathy pants, the moans that rose.

Her need was there to be fulfilled, after all, and he held tightly to her with his muzzle between her legs as he moaned, letting her hump and buck against him to her heart's content. Mistress Elle did not tell her pup when she was close to orgasm, for it was not needed, nothing was needed. All she had to do was to feel, to experience that pleasure, lust rising, her orgasm dripping down his chin as he lapped and lapped, sensing how much pressure she needed from his tongue at any time.

The vixen was at her most beautiful, he was sure, in the throes of climax, though he could do more for her than that, yes, he was sure, so much more, licking off his lips and resting a willing paw on her thigh. The ripples of climax still ploughed through her in the afterglow and he rested there, waiting, already thinking about what he could do next for her.

"Mmm, that was a start, pup."

He bobbed his muzzle, keeping his eyes downcast.

"Perhaps my mistress would like a massage?" He offered, trying to take the initiative, to show that he wasn't just going to be a passive partner even if he was playing the part of her slave. "I could rub your back, I bought some special oils for you, mistress, they're good for your fur and your skin. Or I could make you climax again, rim your tail hole, I could put on a display for you, a show..."

He blushed. That would be a hard one indeed for him to do, though he knew that his mistress enjoyed watching him. And he wanted to make sure that she was entertained, that she always had eyes on him in a good way. Wasn't one way to show her that he was going to be a good slave, the best of them, by doing things that she loved but weren't entirely comfortable for him? He would do it all for her and it was not as if his pleasure would fall by the wayside there.

End preview.

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