Mr. Burdock

Janet and I grin at each other over puppy’s unconscious form. Poochie, curled up into the fetal position, trembles violently. Breathing frantically, gasping in and out. Beyond terror. Beyond words.

Mewling into her gag.

I touch poochie’s cheek, and she shrieks, somehow managing to force real volume through her ball gag. I gently push her poochie’s hair out of her eyes. Closed eyes that manage to screw shut even tighter at my touch.

“You’re such a lucky girl, poochie. Janet will take you to our studio where we will livestream your interview. Before the night is over, you’ll be a household name. Famous! You’ll be the topic of conversation everywhere. People will discuss you at work, and in the car. On the city bus, and in boardrooms. In the bedroom, and at the dinner table… well, probably not at the dinner table.”

She whimpers into her gag, shaking her head back and forth rapidly.

“I’ll join you when puppy wakes up,” I say. Her eyes snap open, and she stares at puppy’s unmoving figure.

“Yes,” I say, “puppy’s alive. Just unconscious. Be a good little poochie for Janet, and we won’t start playing with you until after the livestream ends.”

Violently shaking her head in denial, poochie actually scoots closer to Janet. Until she gets a good look at Janet’s strapon, and blanches. Not that I blame her, it’s a fucking monster.

Janet told me she could fuck puppy’s ass with it, and she was right.

That was incredible.

I’ve got to do it again.

Perhaps with both of them?

God, what exquisite squirming. It couldn’t have gone better. Not just the sex, but also both of their reactions. Puppy wasn’t just acting, she cried because she disappointed me. Smirking, I took a few minutes to savor her rape. A new personal best. Topping that isn’t going to be easy.

“Failed you, Master,” puppy croaks through her abused throat.

“No puppy,” I say, “you didn’t fail. I couldn’t be happier with my good little puppy.”

I barely hide my reaction when puppy’s head snaps up, pure child-like delight dancing in her eyes. Her butt wagging like a tail, happy and excited, contrasts absurdly with the blood dripping down her leg. After several months of rape, torture, and abuse, I expected her to be catatonic. Perhaps a vegetable. Certainly, she should have been traumatized beyond recovery.

Instead I find a broken mind fully embracing her role.

“Clean yourself, and then we’ll go for a walk.” Her eyes widen, and she looks back and forth between the door and me. “Yes, puppy. Outside your kennel. Grinning broadly, butt still wagging, she crawls on her hands and knees to the little spigot and pan—her bath and toilet. And cleans herself, washing blood and other things away.

Afterwards, she nuzzles against me as I dry her off with my towel.

“Heel,” I say, although I suspect I needn’t have bothered.

In a parody of a talk-show, poochie sits on the couch, while Janet, our host, sits behind a desk. Broadcasting real time, we were streaming the show—along with puppy’s last rape, on the internet. Using hundreds of different services and compromised networks. My people assured me that they couldn’t shut our broadcast down.

The world would watch, especially a certain annoying agent.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Burdock,” Janet says. “And who is that with you?”

“Puppy,” I say, snapping my fingers to attract her attention, “Janet wants to know your name.”

“I’m puppy,” she says cheerfully. She suddenly giggles and nuzzles against my leg. “Master said I’m a good puppy!”

“A very good puppy. Come,” I say, patting the seat next to me.

Puppy shrinks back, “Animals don’t belong on furniture,” she says uncertainly.

“When their Masters give them permission, they are allowed.”

She nods happily and clambers up. Curling into me, she practically melts. As I stroke her hair, a camera zooms in, capturing a closeup of my delightful puppy laying across my lap.

Janet and I continue our little parody, forcing poochie to answer one embarrassing question after another. From what she fantasized about the last time she masturbated to the most humiliating moment of her life—from before she was brought here anyway. Janet’s spent so much time around liars and manipulators, both in the courtroom and on the street, that she’s become a nearly infallible lie detector.

After poochie attempts her third lie, Janet says, “Poochies aren’t allowed to lie. One more time, and we’ll have puppy fetch my strapon. I’ll fuck you right here. Are you sure you want that to happen in an interview that’s being live streamed to…” she checks her phone, “112 million people? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist. Are you?”

Poochie shivers shaking her head.

The questions continue, and my cock hardens as I imagine Agent Harper watching Janet and I play our sick little game. Puppy’s mother has spent a lot of time with Agent Harper lately, trying to track puppy down. I hope she’s there right now. I hope the two of them are watching together.

Puppy notices my erection and looks up, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Master!” she exclaims, nuzzling my crotch, “Please, may puppy suck your cock?”

“Yes, puppy,” I say, smiling into the camera.

Picturing the expression on her mother's face, I look into the camera, as puppy unzips my pants, and shamelessly deepthroats me.

In front of millions.

For a few minutes, Janet watches, and one of the cameras zoom in. “Well, poochie, isn’t she cute,” says Janet, with a bright smile. “I bet you’ll learn to be just as fun of a fuck.”

“If she doesn’t,” I say, “I know a certain 'Big Bad Mother Fucker' who would be happy to educate her.”

Poochie clutches her stomach, looking sick.

As puppy licks her way around the head of my cock, I can’t help myself.

“Poochie, watch her closely. Soon... you’ll be just like her,” white-knuckled and trembling, poochie clutches at the arms of her chair.

Puppy works my cock, as poochie’s fear sends me over the edge.

Even her wide-open mouth, showing off my cum, can’t hide puppy’s pride.

“Good girl,” I say, patting her head. My fingers run along her tongue and trace my cum across her excited face.

“And now, we come to the final question,” says Janet, “after which, you’re free to leave. I’ll even spot you twenty for the bus.”

Poochie clearly doesn’t believe a word.

“It seems like you doubt me, but I promise you, it’s the truth. After you answer this last question, you’re free to leave. Unless, of course, you decide to stay of your own free will.”

Neither of us hide our smirks as cold dread begins to dawn. Janet straightens papers, and makes a show of getting comfortable, drawing the moment out, before asking the final question.

“Which of your sisters should we take to replace you?”

Such utter loss, beyond tears.

Exquisite perfection.

No matter what poochie says, this moment will destroy Agent Harper—assuming watching the rest hasn’t already done so.

Puppy perks up in my lap.

“Master!” she exclaims with delight, “You’re hard again! May puppy suck your cock? Please please please!”