All characters in this piece of fiction are role-playing adults.
Master laughs when he walks into the living room and sees Fluffy lying on her dog bed. "What a pouty face!" he says. He crouches in front of her and reaches into her cone to scratch her chin. She tries to bite his fingers and he smacks her cheek firmly. "None of that," he says. "I'll gag you if I have to."
She looks away, shamefaced. "Sorry," she mutters. It's one of the three words she's allowed today -- sorry, please, and horny. She's used please a lot, even since he rubbed the ginger paste on her clit and pussy.
Not that he told her that was what he was doing. They were playing vet -- and he's sure that she regrets telling him about her medical kink so long ago -- and he had her on her hands and knees on the dining room table. He inspected every inch of her body and she was presenting so nicely, lowering her chest to the table, sticking her ass out, panting, "Horny, horny, horny" as though he couldn't tell from her drippy cunt.
"I think you're too horny," he said, giving her ass a slap and then tugging on her tail plug. "Your pussy is so hot and wet and swollen... I'm worried about it, darling..."
"Heat?" she said hopefully. She knows that when he decides she's in heat, she gets to play with her knotting dildo and roll around in bed all day, humping pillows and squirting on the duvet and filling all of her holes with her favourite toys.
He pinched her clit. "That's not one of your words, Fluffy," he said. He plucked out a few strands of pubic hair as an additional punishment. She has plenty to spare these days. She used to keep herself clean shaven, but he told her puppies can't use razors and besides, it's stupid to call her Fluffy when she isn't. She's not as embarrassed about it as she used to be, when he would make her squat over a mirror and look at her furred cunt and asshole.
"No, you're not in heat," he continued. "I think your pussy's sick and needs some medicine." He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and unscrewed a jar of ginger paste. He dipped two fingers in, scooping up a heavy glob.
He coated her parts thickly in the paste, making sure to get it over every inch, inside and out. By the time he took his gloves off, she was squirming. "Please," she said. Her hips twitched, like she could hump the growing pain away. "Please."
"Shh, Fluffy," he said. "Doctor has to make sure your medicine stays inside so it can help you."
It took several clamps to pin Fluffy's pussy shut in the exact way he wanted. Her inner labia together and then her outer labia pulled over that and clamped shut. It made her pussy bulge beautifully. He took several pictures to show her. "We can pick out one to print later," he said. "We'll hang it in your hall of fame." Fluffy's hall of fame was the corridor from the living room to the kitchen, which was lined with framed pictures of her achievements -- an egg toy being birthed from her pussy, a double-penetration by knotted dildos, a series showing her pubic hair growth over time.
"Don't scratch your stitches," he said, helping her down from the table. She was whimpering and crying already, begging please please please. "Do you understand, Fluffy? You have to leave your pussy stitches alone or it might get infected and Master will have to give it more medicine."
She didn't leave her 'stitches' alone. Of course she didn't. She was pawing at them within minutes, so he took her hands away, wrapping them in mittens and fastening them to her collar. When she tried to use her feet to rub herself, he cuffed her ankles and attached those to her collar as well, leaving her in a hunched over little ball.
A hunched over little ball was, apparently, the perfect position for her to try lick herself.
She tried to fight him when he put the cone on her. It's been a long time since she actively tried to stop him from doing something, but when she saw the cone, she tried to hit him, tried to run, tried to bite.
It was cute, honestly, watching her roll helplessly on the ground, feet moving frantically and not getting anywhere.
Now, he rubs the cheek he just slapped and gives her his fingers to suck on. "Poor pup," he says. "A visit to the vet is always difficult, isn't it?"
She whimpers, and he's not sure if it's in agreement or not. Maybe she's finally tasted the chili oil he rubbed on his fingers before coming in here.
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