The Training of a Hellhound: Episode 1

Mistress Ashley Fires circles the naked man on all fours like she’s judging livestock. Derrick P. shivers. She calls him dogboy and he answers with a bark. Two hellhounds haul a steel tub in; hot water, rough sponge, no mercy. They scrub until his skin burns pink and every inch of him is theirs to handle. She paddles him next, slow deliberate cracks that land on the meat of his ass. Each strike jolts through him and he stays put, jaw clenched, taking it. When she’s satisfied, she sits back, spreads, and drags his face between her cheeks. “Lick.” He obeys, tongue working deeper with every order, and she comes hard—once, twice, again—hips rolling, thighs clamped to his ears. Last test waits on a low bench. She steps into the harness, slick black cock jutting, and lines up. She drives in deep, no warm-up, hips snapping with each thrust. Derrick grunts, voice cracking, but holds position while she uses him for her own finish. She shakes through another orgasm, nails digging into his hips, then pulls out. The strap-on glistens. Dogboy stays hard, dripping, waiting for permission that never comes. She leaves him like that—bent, used, and denied. He has a long way to go before he earns a hellhound collar.