You stand before a door with your stomach churning, the glowing red button the only thing between you and Handler. You had been scolded and demanded to return to her office after checking yourself into medical. You push the feelings down and place your finger against the scanner.
There's a brief pause before the pneumatics gently hiss and the doors slide open. She knows you're here now so there's no saving you from what's coming now. You peer inside and see modest quarters instead of lavish decor. Gentle yellow lights dimly illuminate a surprisingly human living area with a red and black motif. You step inside and immediately feel a weight on you, the space is heavy but not cumbersome.
You see your Handler with her back turned looking out of a large bay window next to a seating arrangement with two couches and a table all facing away from the door. She doesn't acknowledge your presence at first but you know she's aware you're here. Before you can get much further in the room the rollers on the door hum to life as it closes behind you, trapping you inside with her and she's the only one who can dismiss you.
You feel a warmth begin to grow in your chest like recovering from a sickness beckoning you to sleep. The room feels like it narrows in on Handler, the rest of the furniture disappearing to the back of your mind relegated to background information.
"Come. Sit." She gestures to a couch behind her, waving towards it with a hand carrying a small glass with a light amber liquid. The drink gently rocks the small pieces of ice inside of it, clinking lighty. You gently step forward cautious of making too much noise and gingerly find your seat in the middle of the couch directly behind Handler.
You place your hands on your lap making yourself smaller as she refuses to tear her gaze away from the outside world in front of her. The silence is deafening only broken up by the sound of ice sliding around her glass as she takes small sips of the liquid. She takes a shallow breath before placing her glass down.
"Do you understand why I push you so hard?" Her voice finally breaks the silence, her intentions masked but not notably cruel. A response dies on your lips as she turns to look at you, a lit cigarette in the other hand. You hadn't noticed the scent of tobacco as you walked in.
"Its because your my Hound. I push you because I know you're a working dog, you always need a task to satisfy your brain. You always need a goal and to stay motivated, I could've been cruel and kept you in the Kennels, but I've read your file long before the Empire was even involved." She takes a light drag of her cigarette before tapping the ashes into a small bowl.
"When you first came to me, during your conditioning, you told me a lot about yourself. Your need to please people, the desire to be something more than yourself." She gave a half hearted chuckle. "Ironic that you became less than yourself in the end."
Handler bent over and poured a clear liquid into a shot glass, the bottle brushing against the cup with a satisfying noise.
"You see, not giving you a job would make you resent me even more than you already do." She picked up the shot glass and stood before you, leaving her burning cigarette over the small ashtray. "Though, I have been negligent in rewarding you for doing well. Sure, giving you your treats is always nice, the look of stupid submission on your face always lightens my day."
Unexpectedly she crawls onto your lap, sitting over you as she looks down into your eyes. She brings her hand to your lips and strokes your bottom lip downwards, insisting you open. You were in no position to fight her desires, your mind buzzing from just her advance alone.
She had mounted your thighs and in response your nervous system came alive. Synapses crackled and fired both warnings and pleasure, swamping you with the already present calm atmosphere. You gently tilted your head back in rhythm with Handler's fingers. As you do so, she gently pours the small glass into your mouth.
It begins burning instantly, it was an incredibly strong alcohol causing you to cough and sputter after withdrawing her hands. She scowled at you and stood up returning to the bottle she had poured.
"That wasn't good enough." She mused with a tinge of dissapointment. "You'll take this next one like a good Hound, you'll be appreciative this time." She quickly returned to your lap, this time placing a hand around your throat and aggressively pouring the liquid into your mouth.
You do your best to hold back your reaction, she looks at you with a grin as your brain skips a beat, the alcohol working quickly from your lack of tolerance.
"I do these things to help you feel pretty. To be such a sweet and pliable thing in my hands. You have an ego about being a pilot but you never consider yourself. Every single time we sat down together during interrogations it came up. You hate yourself."
She had yet to remove her hand from your throat, her soft hands feeling like your collar, comforting and firm. She looked over you, examining you closely but not revealing her findings as a wave of what looked like anguish or pity washed across her face before returning to her neutral mood.
"Something happened to you, long before me, long before the rebels, before the war." She mused, trailing her fingers from your throat to resting her palm on your cheek. "It wasnt your fault."
Her words caused your brain to go cold, the warmth of the room and alcohol fading for a sobering feeling of loss and mourning. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, threatening to betray the glory of being this close to Handler. For a moment you cursed yourself for not enjoying her presence above anything else, but a part of your past began poking through like a shattered bone through skin.
"It wasn't your fault. You weren't to blame. The world beat you senseless and dumped you on my doorstep, expecting me to treat you with the same hate a vitriol. Thats the fatal flaw of humanity and why I took yours." She gently brushed your cheek, petting you.
"You might have chosen to be my Hound, but I picked you long before you arrived because you were always special. I knew from the moment I saw you, you were pretending to be human. Your soul didn't have the stains that humanity did, and I let you fully reject their attempts at ruining something so beautiful and pure."
She withdrew her hand, placing it on your shoulder looking deep into your eyes. You could see the worry even through your vision being blured by tears. A single drop escaped down your cheek and she brushed it away with her thumb.
"You're special to me, Hound."
She leaned in a gently pressed a kiss against your lips, your entire body reacting. Your breath hitched as you kissed back, a knowing hum coming from Handler as she let you enjoy the moment. She retracted as you looked at her in confusion and lust, you were grateful above all else.
You wanted to latch onto her, to pull her close and keep kissing her. You wanted her more than anything and your body knew it, you squirmed where you sat and drew Handler's attention. You looked up at her with a smile and more tears escaping down your face, you couldn't help but hunger for her.
She let out an amused giggle.
"Come, Hound, I have some boots that need polished."
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