Training of a Hellhound Episode: 2

Dogboy Derrick P sits locked in The Armory cages. No clock, no mercy, just waiting. Miss Dia Zerva opens the gate and drags him out by the collar. First order: worship. She pulls her dress aside and plants his mouth on her. He licks without rhythm, all nerves. She grabs the rolled newspaper and cracks it across his bare ass each time he slacks. Second order: posture. She ties his wrists overhead and paints stripes down his back with the flogger until he stops squirming. Third order: hole. She slicks her fist in lube, works the knuckles in past his ring, drives the full width until his rim yields. He moans. She pumps. When she pulls out, the gape stays open long enough to prove he took it. She peels off her panties, wraps her fist around his cock, and jacks it hard and fast until he shoots across the paper. Then she rolls it tight and shoves it back into his mouth. Eat. Every drop. He swallows, gagging on the taste. She watches. The cock still soft in her hand. Grace shaky. Endurance missing. He passes today, barely.