Far too pretty to have been left alone this long
Tags: pet play/pup play, degrading, praise, biting, fingering, nipple sucking, bottom Apo, Top Cherri, Apo calls Cherri master, hypnokink-ish near the end,
This was supposed to be short, something came over me, and now it's 5592 words.
Enjoy!! 🧡 :3 (hopefully it's good)
Town Pity never really slept.
Even at night, the wind dragged dust through the crooked streets, rattling loose shutters and carrying the distant creak of old signs. The town smelled like dry wood, horse sweat, and smoke that had sunk into the walls years ago and never left. Apo Kuna had grown up there. Cherri could tell by the way she moved through the house without looking, stepping over warped floorboards that squealed too loudly and ducking beneath the low doorway to the kitchen automatically.
The house itself surprised her. She had expected something cramped. Poor. A dying man's shack. Instead, it was large, sprawling in a tired sort of way. Two floors. Several bedrooms. Furniture coated in dust sheets. The remnants of a family that had once mattered. It made sense, she supposed. Apo's father had been important in Town Pity before he died.
Before Cherri arrived to kill him.
The thought still irritated her.
All that anticipation, all that riding through dirt and heat, and then opening the front door to find not her target, but his daughter standing there with swollen eyes and a pickaxe in her trembling hands.
Now, days later, Cherri sat in the dim living room sharpening a knife against a whetstone while Apo Kuna wandered around lighting oil lamps one by one. Warm amber light filled the house slowly, flickering against the walls.
Apo looked soft in it.
Too soft.
That pale dress she wore dragged against the wooden floor. Her hair was loose tonight, falling over her shoulders in messy waves. Cherri watched her from beneath lowered lashes, expression unreadable.
Apo Kuna feared her. That much was obvious. She flinched sometimes when Cherri moved too suddenly. Watched her carefully. Spoke gently, like trying not to upset a dangerous animal.
Good.
That was correct.
But then Apo did things that made absolutely no sense. Like bringing Cherri tea without being asked. Or smiling at her hesitantly after meals. Or sitting too close on the porch while the sun went down. And tonight—
“Well…” Apo lingered near the staircase, fingers twisting together. “There’s enough rooms upstairs for you to take whichever you want.” Cherri hummed without looking up. “But,” Apo continued, voice quieter now, “if you’d rather, we could just share mine.”
The scraping of the blade against stone stopped. Silence settled over the room. Cherri slowly lifted her head. Apo immediately stiffened under her gaze.
There it is, Cherri thought. Fear.
A rabbit staring at a wolf, and still offering itself closer.
“Share your bed?” Cherri repeated.
Apo swallowed. “Only if you want. I just thought maybe…” She laughed nervously. “It gets cold here at night.”
Cherri stared at her for a long moment.
This girl was strange.
Not stupid, no, Apo Kuna was smarter than she pretended to be, but strange in the way untamed animals were strange. Approaching things that could hurt them out of curiosity. Shaking while still wagging their tail.
An untamed puppy.
The idea curled warm and wicked inside Cherri’s chest.
Maybe she could train her.
Push her a little.
See where her limits were.
A slow smirk pulled at Cherri’s lips.
Maybe she could teach Apo Kuna exactly who she belonged to.
Maybe she could hypnotize her into obedience so complete Apo would smile while kneeling.
The thought was intoxicating.
Apo shifted nervously beneath the silence. “You don’t have to if you don’t—”
“I’ll sleep with you,” Cherri interrupted smoothly.
Apo blinked. “Oh.”
The knife clicked shut in Cherri’s hands. She rose from the chair slowly, tall and deliberate, watching Apo instinctively step backward.
Good girl.
Every movement Apo made betrayed her fear even when her mouth tried to hide it. Cherri followed her upstairs at an easy pace. The floorboards groaned beneath their feet. Apo’s room sat at the end of the hallway, warm lamp light spilling from inside. It was undeniably hers.
Pressed flowers hung drying beside the window. Old books stacked beside the bed. A faded shawl draped over a chair. The room smelled faintly of lavender and dust.
Apo hovered awkwardly near the mattress. “You can take the wall side if you want.”
“So polite,” Cherri murmured.
Apo glanced at her uncertainly, unable to tell if she was being mocked. That uncertainty delighted Cherri. She removed her fingerless gloves, eyes never leaving Apo’s face. Apo watched every movement carefully, like prey trying to predict whether the predator was hungry.
“You’re scared of me,” Cherri said casually.
Apo’s shoulders tensed. “A little.”
“Only a little?”
Apo looked away. “You came here to kill my father.”
“And if he wasn’t already dead?”
The silence answered for her. Cherri stepped closer. Apo stayed still, but barely. Cherri could see the tension in her jaw, the slight hitch in her breathing.
Interesting. Most people either groveled or fought back. Apo simply endured.
“You still invited me into your bed,” Cherri said softly.
Apo laughed once under her breath, nervous again. “Well… you haven’t killed me yet.”
Yet. The word lingered between them.
Cherri reached up suddenly, hooking two fingers beneath Apo’s chin.
Apo froze.
There it is again.
Fear. But not rejection.
Cherri tilted her head slightly, studying her face closely as if trying to solve a puzzle.
Pretty thing.
Far prettier up close.
“You trust too easily,” Cherri murmured.
Apo’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Maybe.”
The lamp on the nightstand flickered once. Cherri’s fingers still rested beneath Apo’s chin. Not gripping. Not forcing. Just… there. A suggestion of control. Apo’s pulse beat against Cherri’s knuckles, quick and shallow, like a bird trapped in cupped hands.
“You want to be tamed,” Cherri said again, quieter now.
Apo’s lips parted. No sound came out.
Cherri watched the conflict move across her face in micro-expressions, the slight furrow between her brows, the way her lower lip trembled before she bit down on it. Fear and something else. Something that made her stay rooted to the floorboards even though every instinct had to be screaming at her to run.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Apo whispered.
“Liar.”
The word landed soft. Almost affectionate. Apo flinched anyway, but her eyes, those swollen, red-rimmed eyes, didn’t drop. They held Cherri’s gaze with a desperation that bordered on pleading.
Please, they seemed to say. Please understand what I can’t say out loud.
Cherri understood.
She understood better than Apo could possibly know.
“Sit on the bed,” Cherri said, withdrawing her fingers.
Apo hesitated for exactly three heartbeats. Then she moved, lowering herself onto the edge of the mattress with the careful stiffness of someone who expected the floor to collapse beneath her at any moment. Her hands folded in her lap. Her knees pressed together. The pale dress pooled around her ankles.
Cherri stayed standing. Looking down at her.
The height difference mattered. Apo had to crane her neck slightly to meet Cherri’s eyes, and that small physical adjustment shifted something in the room’s energy. Made Apo smaller. Made Cherri larger.
“You’ve been taking care of me since I arrived,” Cherri said. “Tea. Meals. Sitting with me on the porch.”
Apo nodded. “You’re a guest.”
“I’m not a guest.” Cherri’s voice sharpened. “I’m the woman who came here to murder your father. Say it.”
Apo’s jaw tightened. “You’re the woman who came here to murder my father.”
“And yet you invited me into your bed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence stretched between them. The lamp flickered again—wind finding its way through the old window frames. Somewhere downstairs, a shutter banged against the side of the house.
Then Apo spoke, and her voice broke on the first word.
“Because you looked at me like I mattered.”
Cherri went still.
“When you walked through that door,” Apo continued, staring at her own hands now, “you didn’t look at me like everyone else does. Like I was just… the daughter. The leftover. The thing that stayed behind when everyone important left or died. You looked at me like I was worth noticing.”
“I looked at you like prey,” Cherri said flatly.
Apo’s shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. “At least prey gets seen.”
The words hung in the air.
Cherri felt something shift in her chest. Not softening, she didn’t soften. But recognition. This girl wasn’t just strange. She was starved. Touch-starved. Attention-starved. The kind of desperate that made people do foolish things like invite death into their bedroom and offer it the warmer side of the mattress.
“Lie back,” Cherri said.
Apo’s breath caught. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t—”
“You invited me here.” Cherri tilted her head. “You said it gets cold at night. You offered to share. So lie back.”
The command settled over Apo like a blanket. Heavy. Warm. She didn’t move for a long moment, and Cherri watched the war play out behind her eyes. Fear versus want. Sense versus need.
Want won.
Apo eased herself backward onto the mattress. Her hair fanned out against the pillow. Her dress rode up slightly, exposing her calves, and she made no move to tug it back down. Her hands stayed at her sides, fingers curled loosely against the quilt.
Cherri climbed onto the bed.
She didn’t rush. Every movement was slow, deliberate, not the slowness of hesitation but the slowness of someone who knew exactly what she was doing and saw no reason to hurry. She positioned herself above Apo, one knee pressing into the mattress between Apo’s thighs, one hand planted beside Apo’s head.
Apo stared up at her with wide, wet eyes.
“You’re shaking,” Cherri observed.
“I know.”
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
The question caught Apo off guard. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Cherri watched her wrestle with it, watched her throat bob as she swallowed twice in quick succession. Then, very quietly—
“No.”
Cherri smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was the smile of a hunter who’d just watched her prey walk willingly into the snare. “Good girl,” she murmured.
Apo’s whole body reacted. Her spine arched slightly off the mattress, just an inch, just for a second. Her fingers twisted into the quilt. A small sound escaped her throat, not quite a gasp, not quite a whimper. Something in between. Something that made Cherri’s smile widen.
There it is.
The praise had landed exactly where Cherri had aimed it. Right in that hollow, starving place Apo carried inside her.
“You like that,” Cherri said. Not a question.
Apo turned her face away, pressing her cheek into the pillow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look at me.”
Apo didn’t move. Cherri reached down and caught Apo’s chin again, firmer this time. She turned Apo’s face back toward her. Apo’s skin flushed pink and hot beneath Cherri’s fingertips.
“Don’t hide from me,” Cherri said. “If you’re going to be my pet, you don’t get to hide.”
“Pet?” Apo’s voice cracked on the word.
“Puppy,” Cherri corrected, testing the shape of it in her mouth. “A stray little puppy who’s been waiting for someone to bring her inside.”
Apo’s eyes glazed with tears. Or something else. Cherri couldn’t tell yet, and that uncertainty made her pulse kick faster.
“You don’t even know me,” Apo whispered.
“I know you invited a killer into your bed because you’d rather be used than ignored.” Cherri leaned closer, her breath ghosting against Apo’s lips. “I know you flinch when I move fast but lean in when I talk slow. I know you’ve been watching me sharpen my knife and imagining what these hands could do to you.” Apo’s breathing went ragged.
“Am I wrong?” Cherri asked.
No answer.
“Am I wrong?” Louder now.
“No,” Apo choked out. “No, you’re not wrong.”
The confession seemed to break something open inside her. Her body sagged against the mattress. Her thighs parted slightly, just enough for Cherri’s knee to press closer against the warmth between them. Her eyes, still wet, fixed on Cherri’s face with something that looked almost like hope.
Cherri lowered her mouth to Apo’s ear.
“Then be a good puppy for me.”
Apo whimpered. The sound went straight through Cherri’s chest and settled low in her stomach. She pressed her lips to the skin just below Apo’s ear, not kissing, exactly. Just resting there. Feeling the frantic beat of Apo’s pulse against her mouth.
“I’m going to tell you what to do,” Cherri murmured against her skin. “And you’re going to do it. Because you want to. Because being told what to do is the only time your head goes quiet. Isn’t it.” Apo nodded, a jerky little movement that rubbed her cheek against Cherri’s hair. “Use your words, puppy.”
“Yes.” The word came out strangled. “Yes, it’s the only time.”
“Good girl.”
Apo made that sound again. That half-gasp, half-whimper that told Cherri exactly how much the praise was affecting her. Her hips shifted against the mattress, a tiny involuntary movement that she probably wasn’t even aware of.
Cherri noticed. She noticed everything. “Stay still,” she commanded softly.
Apo froze. Her thighs trembled with the effort of keeping them parted. Her fingers uncurled from the quilt, stretching flat against the fabric as if she were trying to anchor herself.
Cherri drew back just enough to look at her properly. Apo’s face was flushed. Her pupils had blown wide, swallowing the iris until only a thin ring of color remained. Her lips were parted and slick where she’d been biting them. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths that made the bodice of her dress shift against her breasts.
Pretty, Cherri thought again. Far too pretty to have been left alone this long.
“I’m going to touch you now,” Cherri said. “And you’re going to keep your hands where they are. No grabbing. No pulling. If you want something, you ask. If you want me to stop, you say ‘red.’ Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
Apo’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then understanding dawned, and another flush of color swept across her cheeks.
“Yes… master?”
Cherri’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t prompted it. Apo had reached for the word on her own, pulled it out of some instinctual place that even she probably didn’t understand.
“That’s right,” Cherri said, and her voice came out rougher than she intended. “Good puppy.”
She brought her hand to Apo’s collarbone. Just her fingertips at first. Tracing the line of bone beneath skin. Apo shivered but stayed perfectly still, her hands flat against the quilt, her thighs open around Cherri’s knee. Cherri dragged her fingers lower, following the neckline of Apo’s dress until she reached the first button.
“I’m going to undress you,” Cherri said.
Apo nodded. Swallowed. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, master.”
Cherri worked the first button free. Then the second. The fabric gaped open, revealing the pale swell of Apo’s breasts beneath a thin cotton shift. Cherri’s fingers brushed against the exposed skin, and Apo’s breath stuttered.
“You’re so responsive,” Cherri murmured. “Every little touch. Has it been that long since someone handled you properly?”
Apo’s eyes fluttered closed. “Yes.” She looked and sounded out of it.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Her eyes snapped open immediately. The obedience made Cherri’s blood run hot. “Better,” Cherri said. “You want to be good, don’t you.”
“Yes, master.”
“You want to be my good little puppy.”
Apo’s hips twitched. “Yes.”
Cherri unfastened the rest of the buttons with patient, unhurried movements. She pushed the dress open, baring Apo’s shift underneath, and then she tugged the shift down too, exposing the full shape of Apo’s breasts to the warm lamp light.
Apo made a small, embarrassed sound.
“No,” Cherri said firmly. “No hiding. You’re beautiful like this.”
The compliment landed like a physical blow. Apo’s back arched again, her breasts lifting toward Cherri’s hands as if begging for contact. Her nipples had drawn tight in the cool air, and Cherri circled one with her fingertip, not quite touching, just tracing the shape of it against the areola.
“Please,” Apo breathed.
“Please what?”
“Please touch me.”
“Good girl asking for what she wants.” Cherri pressed her thumb directly against Apo’s nipple.
Apo cried out. It wasn’t loud. The house was big for anyone else to hear, but it was raw, a sound torn from somewhere deep inside her chest, and her whole body jerked beneath Cherri’s touch like she’d been struck by lightning.
Cherri didn’t let up. She rolled the nipple between her thumb and forefinger, gentle at first and then firmer, watching Apo’s face contort with pleasure. Her other hand found Apo’s other breast and mirrored the motion, both nipples stiff and aching beneath her fingers.
“How does that feel?” Cherri asked.
“Good,” Apo gasped. “It feels good...”
“You like being touched by me.”
“Yes, yes, I—”
Cherri pinched down harder. Apo’s words dissolved into a moan. Her hands, still obediently flat against the quilt, curled into fists. Her thighs clamped around Cherri’s knee and then relaxed, clamped and relaxed, a rhythm that matched the desperate pulse between her legs.
Cherri leaned down and replaced her fingers with her mouth.
She took Apo’s nipple between her lips and sucked. Lightly at first. Then harder. Apo’s back bowed off the mattress, and her hands flew up to grab Cherri’s shoulders before she caught herself and slammed them back down against the quilt.
“Good puppy,” Cherri murmured against her skin. “Good girl staying still.”
Her teeth grazed the sensitive peak. Apo whimpered. Cherri bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a mark. A small, possessive bloom of red against pale skin. Then she moved to the other breast and did it again.
And again.
By the time she drew back, Apo’s chest was littered with small bruises, tiny red crescents that would darken overnight. Hickeys in the shape of Cherri’s mouth. Claim marks.
“Look at you,” Cherri said, surveying her work. “Look at what a pretty mess you are already.”
Apo’s eyes were glassy. Her mouth hung open slightly. She looked drugged, or drunk, or like someone who’d just woken from a dream they weren’t sure was real.
Cherri slid lower down the bed, her hands pushing Apo's dress up past her hips. The fabric bunched at her waist, revealing the straining outline of Apo's cock beneath the thin cotton shift. The damp spot at the front of the fabric glistened under the lamplight, unmistakable.
Apo's breath came in short, ragged pulls. Her hands stayed flat against the quilt where Cherri had commanded them, but her fingers kept curling and uncurling, clutching at nothing.
"Look how hard you are already," Cherri murmured, tracing one fingertip along the length of Apo's cock through the damp cotton. "Just from my mouth on your chest. Just from being called a good puppy."
Apo whimpered, her hips jerking upward before she caught herself and pressed them back down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to move—"
"Shh." Cherri pressed her palm flat against Apo's stomach, holding her still. "You're doing so well. You're being such a good girl for me."
The words hit Apo like a physical blow. Her eyelids fluttered. Her throat worked around a sound that didn't quite make it out. The flush that had been creeping down her neck spread lower, blooming across her collarbone in uneven patches of pink.
Cherri hooked her fingers into the waistband of Apo's underwear and tugged. The fabric peeled away, and Apo's cock sprang free, curving up toward her stomach. The head was slick and flushed, a bead of precome already gathering at the tip.
"There we go," Cherri said softly. "That's better. You're so pretty like this, puppy. All laid out and hard for me."
"Thank you, master." The words came out in a rush, breathless and automatic.
Cherri's stomach tightened again. She hadn't told Apo to say that. The girl was reaching for it on her own, settling into the role like slipping into warm water.
"How long has it been since someone touched you?" Cherri asked, tracing her fingers along the inside of Apo's thigh. The muscle jumped beneath her touch. "Since someone made you feel good?"
Apo's jaw tightened. "I don't— I've never—"
"Never?"
"Not like this." Apo turned her face toward the pillow, hiding her expression. "Not with someone who…"
"Who what?"
"Who wanted to."
The confession hung in the air. Cherri's hand stilled on Apo's thigh. She stared at the side of Apo's face, at the way her jaw clenched and her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and something hot and possessive curled behind her ribs.
"Look at me."
Apo turned her head back slowly. Her eyes were wet again, but she wasn't crying. Not exactly. She looked like someone who'd been holding back tears for years and had forgotten how to let them fall.
"No one's ever made you come," Cherri said. It wasn't a question. Apo shook her head. "Have you made yourself come?"
A flush of deeper red. "Yes."
"How often?"
"Master, I don't—"
"How often, puppy?"
Apo's lips pressed together. Then, barely audible: "Most nights."
"Most nights," Cherri repeated. She wrapped her fingers loosely around the base of Apo's cock. Apo gasped, her hips twitching upward again. "So you lie here in this big empty house, in this bed all by yourself, and you touch yourself and think about someone taking care of you. Someone telling you what to do. Someone who sees you."
Apo's mouth opened. No sound came out.
"Is that right?"
"Yes." The word cracked in half. "Yes, master."
"Good girl." Cherri stroked upward slowly, just once, watching precome well at the tip and drip down over her knuckles. "Good girl telling me the truth. You've been so lonely, haven't you. So desperate for someone to handle you properly."
Apo's hips bucked. She didn't apologize this time. Her breathing had gone ragged, her chest heaving, the marks Cherri had left on her breasts darkening in the lamplight.
"I'm going to take care of you tonight," Cherri said. She stroked again, a little faster this time, her grip tightening just enough to make Apo's breath stutter. "I'm going to put my fingers inside you and stretch you open and make you feel so full. And you're going to lie here and take it like a good puppy. Yes?"
"Yes, master."
"And you're going to tell me if it's too much. You remember the word?"
"Red."
"That's right." Cherri released Apo's cock and brought her slick fingers lower, tracing the delicate skin behind. Apo's thighs fell open wider, an invitation she didn't seem aware she was making. "Good girl. Now stay still."
Cherri's fingertip found the tight ring of Apo's entrance and pressed gently. Not pushing in yet. Just resting there, letting Apo feel the pressure. Apo made a sound that might have been a whimper or might have been a plea.
"Shh," Cherri murmured again. "I've got you. You're being so good for me."
She pressed harder. The tip of her finger slipped inside, and Apo's whole body clenched around the intrusion. Hot and tight and fluttering. Cherri held still, letting her adjust, watching her face.
"Breathe," Cherri commanded softly. Apo exhaled shakily. Her inner muscles relaxed minutely. "Good puppy." Cherri pushed deeper. "Taking me so well."
Apo's hands fisted in the quilt. Her thighs trembled. Her cock lay thick and leaking against her stomach, untouched, jerking every time Cherri's finger moved.
"That's one finger," Cherri said. She curled it slightly, pressing against the slick inner walls. Apo moaned, a raw broken sound that seemed to surprise her as much as it surprised Cherri. "You like that?"
"Yes, master, please—"
"Please what?"
"More. Please, I want more."
Cherri withdrew her finger slowly, watching Apo's entrance clench around nothing. Then she pressed two fingers against the opening and pushed inside.
The stretch made Apo's back arch off the mattress. Her mouth fell open, a long gasping moan spilling out. Her thighs tried to close around Cherri's hand, but Cherri's body was already between them, keeping her spread open.
"Look at you," Cherri breathed. "Look at how well you're taking my fingers. You were made for this, weren't you. Made to be filled up."
"Yes," Apo gasped. "Yes, master, yes—"
Cherri thrust deeper, curling her fingers upward, searching. She found the spot she was looking for when Apo's voice cracked on a sob. Not pain. The sound was pure, undiluted pleasure, ripped from somewhere deep in her chest.
"There," Cherri said. "Right there. That's what you've been missing, isn't it. That's what your own fingers couldn't reach."
She worked her fingers in and out at a steady pace, curling them each time she bottomed out, pressing against that spot until Apo was shaking beneath her. Apo's cock leaked steadily, slicking her stomach, twitching with every thrust of Cherri's fingers. Her face had gone slack, mouth open, eyes half-lidded and glassy.
"You look so pretty like this," Cherri told her. "So pretty with my fingers inside you. Such a good little puppy, taking everything I give you."
"Master," Apo breathed. "Master, I'm— I think I'm going to—"
"Not yet." Cherri slowed her thrusts, pressing deep and holding still. Apo whined, a high desperate sound that made Cherri's pulse kick. "Not until I say so. You can wait for me, can't you?"
"Yes." Apo's voice was wrecked. "Yes, I can wait."
"Good girl."
Cherri held her there, fingers buried deep, watching Apo's face cycle through desperation and frustration and aching need. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched around Cherri's fingers, trying to pull her deeper. Her hips made tiny abortive movements, barely restrained.
"Please," Apo whispered. "Please, master, I've been so good—"
"You have." Cherri leaned down and pressed her mouth to the hollow of Apo's throat. She sucked hard, drawing the skin between her teeth, working another bruise to the surface. Apo gasped and tilted her head back, baring more of her throat. "You've been so good for me. So obedient. My perfect little puppy."
She started moving her fingers again, faster now, curling harder against that spot. Apo's whole body went rigid, her inner muscles clamping down, her cock jerking against her stomach.
"Now," Cherri said against her throat. "Come for me now."
Apo shattered. Her back bowed off the mattress, a scream tearing from her throat. Her hips bucked wildly against Cherri's hand, and her release pulsed hot and thick across her own stomach, streaking up toward her chest. Cherri kept thrusting, working her through it, curling her fingers each time Apo's walls clenched around her.
"Good girl," Cherri murmured. "Good puppy. Let it all out. You've been waiting so long for this."
Apo's orgasm seemed to go on for minutes. Her body shook, her voice broke, her fingers finally abandoned the quilt to grab at Cherri's shoulders. Cherri let her. The rule about staying still didn't matter anymore. What mattered was the way Apo clung to her, desperate and wrecked and trembling, burying her face against Cherri's neck.
When it finally subsided, Apo went limp against the mattress. Her arms fell away from Cherri's shoulders. Her breathing came in harsh, uneven gasps. The mess on her stomach glistened in the lamplight.
Cherri withdrew her fingers slowly. Apo whimpered at the loss, her entrance gaping slightly, fluttering around nothing.
"Shh." Cherri brought her slick fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. Apo watched with wide, glassy eyes. "You did so well. You were so good for me."
"Thank you, master." Apo's voice was barely a whisper.
Cherri reached down and pushed the tangled hair back from Apo's face. The girl looked utterly wrecked. Flushed and bruised and covered in her own release. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth slightly open, her body still twitching with aftershocks.
"How do you feel?" Cherri asked.
"Good." Apo blinked slowly. "Float-y. Like my head's not quite… attached."
Cherri smiled. That was exactly what she'd been hoping for. Exactly the state she'd been working toward since she first set foot in this house.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
Apo's brow furrowed slightly. "Cherri?"
Cherri shifted on the bed, positioning herself more comfortably between Apo's thighs. She pressed her thumb against Apo's entrance, still slick and open, and watched Apo's eyes flutter.
"I told you I was going to train you," Cherri said. "This was just the beginning. A taste. I'm going to teach you to be my good little puppy all the time. Not just in bed. Every moment of every day."
Apo stared up at her. The glassiness in her eyes took on a new quality. Something deeper. Something that looked almost like a trance.
"You want that, don't you," Cherri said. "You want to stop thinking. Stop worrying. Stop being the leftover Kuna daughter that no one in this town gives a damn about. You want to belong to me."
"Yes," Apo breathed. The word came out slurred, dreamy. "Yes, Cherri."
"When you're with me, you don't have to be Apo Kuna anymore. You can just be my puppy. My good, obedient little pup. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists."
"Nothing else exists," Apo echoed.
Cherri leaned down, close enough that her lips nearly brushed Apo's ear. "From now on, you'll do what I say. You'll come when I call. You'll kneel when I tell you to kneel. And every time you obey, you'll feel just as good as you feel right now. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Cherri."
"And if you disobey, you'll feel empty. Cold. Alone. The way you felt before I walked through that door. The way you felt your whole life." Apo's breath caught. A flicker of genuine fear moved behind the glassiness in her eyes. "But you won't disobey, will you." Cherri pulled back, meeting Apo's gaze. "Because you're my good little puppy. And good puppies get rewards."
She reached down between them and pressed two fingers inside Apo again. Apo gasped, her inner walls clenching weakly around the intrusion. She was still sensitive, still wet with her own release and the slickness Cherri had worked into her.
"Every time you're good," Cherri murmured, thrusting slowly, "I'll make you feel like this. Full. Wanted. Seen."
Apo's mouth opened. A thin line of drool escaped the corner of her lips.
"Every time you do what I tell you," Cherri continued, curling her fingers, "I'll tell you how proud I am of you. How pretty you are. How lucky I am to have such an obedient little puppy."
Apo moaned. The sound was distant, disconnected, like it came from somewhere far away.
"You're going to be so good for me," Cherri said. "Aren't you."
"Yes, Cherri." The words were barely recognizable. Slurred and soft and utterly surrendered.
Cherri smiled. She had her now. Not completely, not yet, the hypnosis would need to be deepened, reinforced over days and weeks. But the foundation was laid. Apo was already halfway into a trance, her conscious mind drifting somewhere far away while her body responded to Cherri's commands without hesitation.
"Good puppy." Cherri thrust deeper, working her fingers in and out at a languid pace. Apo's hips rocked in rhythm, a mindless, instinctive movement. "Now I'm going to make you come again. And this time, you're going to watch my face while you do it. You're going to look into my eyes and know exactly who you belong to."
Apo's glassy gaze found Cherri's face. Her pupils were blown so wide her eyes looked black.
"There you are," Cherri whispered. "There's my good girl."
She crooked her fingers and pressed hard against that spot inside Apo, and Apo's body responded instantly. Her back arched, her mouth fell open, her inner walls clamped down around Cherri's fingers like a vise. But her eyes stayed locked on Cherri's face. Even as the pleasure crested, even as her second orgasm ripped through her harder than the first, she didn't look away.
The eye contact was electric. Cherri felt it in her gut, in her chest, in the pulse between her own legs. The sheer raw submission in Apo's gaze. The trust. The desperate, aching need.
When it was over, Apo lay limp and trembling, still staring up at Cherri like she was the only thing in the world.
Cherri withdrew her fingers and brought them to Apo's lips.
"Clean them," she commanded.
Apo's mouth opened obediently. Her tongue, pink and warm, lapped at Cherri's fingers, tasting herself. The sensation made Cherri's breath catch.
"Good puppy," she murmured.
Apo's eyes fluttered closed. A small, satisfied sound hummed in her throat.
Cherri settled onto the mattress beside her, pulling the quilt up around them both. Apo curled toward her instinctively, pressing her face against Cherri's shoulder.
"Sleep now," Cherri said. "When you wake up, we'll begin."
But even as she said it, her mind was already racing ahead. There was so much more to do. Collars to find. Commands to teach. A mind to reshape, piece by piece, until Apo Kuna couldn't remember what it felt like to be anything other than Cherri's pet.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the shutters. Somewhere in Town Pity, a dog barked twice and fell silent.
Cherri stared at the ceiling, one hand absently stroking Apo's hair, and planned.
