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[I]“Hey, meat, get me the paper."

“Do this, or I'll break your antlers."

“Move! We're doing something, prey."

[/I]“Lambiris?"

The white-and-brown-furred Reindeer shook his head, his golden antlers nearly swatting one of the low shelves as he turned and watched the enormous dark-purple Werewolf at his side.

Once more, Lambiris had been daydreaming and relieving some of the last days. However, this time, he hadn't forgotten to take notes. And with a quick glance, he passed an eye over the stack of papers and his tablet to see what he had annotated during their strut through the corridors.

“Yes, I'll handle the moving crew and advance the departure time."

“Make sure they're careful with the clothes. I don't want the same incident as last year; tell them that," answered the Werewolf.

“I will transmit them the information," the Reindeer nodded along, his golden eyes drawn onto the tablet and all the projects he had to focus on. All the tasks his boss had been throwing on his plate. But then… “When should I postpone the collar fitting? Next week?"

Right away, the Werewolf coughed and stomped on, his flustered face hidden by those colossal paws. “I-. Put it for tonight. And handle the tasks as soon as possible."

Lambiris didn't follow, didn't want to run after the wolf as a mere glance confirmed the man was heading out for a meal with his new prized muse, without his assistant. But… It wasn't too bad for the Reindeer as he passed a hand over his face, over the leaf motif imprinted by his darkening fur, before he turned and returned to his office with an elegant but discernible happy gait. All a lie.

A few months ago, Lambiris would have killed someone to be in that spot. Ilya Moonwood, or the Prowling Wolf in the milieu, was unique in the fashion world. Most reviews, magazines, and articles talked about him and how he had built an empire from nowhere. Some tried to link his success to some disturbing rumors about the man leading a criminal group from the shadow; rumors that had always been discarded or refuted.

Those libels never deterred people from working with the gargantuan wolf, from sticking around the 13-foot-tall Werewolf to get a taste of his prestige.

Therefore, as his private assistant, Lambiris should have been on cloud nine and living the best life. He should have been the happiest Reindeer on that side of the continent.

Yet, as he slumped in his office, adjacent and dwarfed by the Werewolf's office, he didn't feel as happy. Sure, he learned a lot from the world of Fashion. He was building a network, meeting with authorities in that small universe, and working for a man who certainly had a talent.

But-

“Meat! Don't forget to get us our lunches. We're hungry," commented a Werewolf as he passed his head inside, grinning and flashing his fangs before going away with a laugh.

That place wasn't welcoming for prey species like him. In fact, most of Ilya's workplace was stuffed with werewolves, and trying to find something that didn't include meat in the cafeteria was impossible. The bullying reminded the young Reindeer of his pubescent years when everyone had self-esteem issues.

This was no different.

“One more day," groaned Lambiris as he pinched his nostrils, spread the stacks of mail, papers, and documents on his desk, and reviewed his notes on the tablet. Scheduling, rescheduling, handling, answering important mail, telling people to get stuffed but politely, and mailing more.

Ilya wasn't the best with technology or answering mail; he had no etiquette for this, and rare were the companies selling computers fitting for the werewolf's size. Leading to all that weight, all that pressure falling onto the Reindeer's shoulders.

Weeks were spent doing all the work Ilya should have done and catching up with all the issues plaguing his mailbox. From complaints to lovelorn partners, the young prey had his boss' life exposed before his eyes with no ounce of discretion. And more often than not, Ilya's personal mailbox, not the private corporate mailbox, was… stuffed with dirty pics. In a month, the Reindeer had seen more dick pics than if he worked in a kinky magazine, and that was solely the mail he had handled. Not the folder “Creeps", though.

“Fuck me," he mumbled, scrolling through the messages to get down through a line of exchanges where his boss was attempting to show who had the biggest cojones.

“Can't they be more serious?" he continued, watching the pissing contest unfurl, with one side being one of the biggest manufacturers in the world and on the other side his boss.

Neither seemed appealing, and it was messing with him to see them hurling veiled insults as one breakout in communication had led to a postponed collection. Eleven years ago.

“I can't!" he shouted as he threw his hands up, shutting off his computer within the same move. He stood up and stomped to his coat rack, ready to confront the cold winter to get his meal… And appease those stupid dogs outside.

Should he not do that, they would be ransacking his office or messing with his projects… hence, for peace and calm, he had to remain the quiet and gentle prey who offered them meals and drinks whenever he could.

He already heard them yapping and crying about how starved they were due to the poor food at the cafeteria, despite catering to Werewolves only, and he cringed. He cringed and turned, glancing at what he could have left behind.

The computer shut, the keys and badge were in his pocket, and the phone was in the other pocket. He had everything but one thing: a collar.

A dog collar with a silver medallion “Good bitch" on it. The leather was heavy and long, way bigger than any collar the Reindeer had seen before. But it had the right length as he lifted it and shook it.

It would be enough for tonight as he slipped it within his mantel, not daring to show it to anyone else but himself and the concerned slut. Even near to his body, he felt the raw power emanating from the collar. But he ignored it as he stepped outside his office, glancing at the almost empty open space and plastered the biggest smile on his face.

“Hey, boys! I'll get some takeouts; what do you want for lunch?"

---

“You handled everything?" asked the gruff Werewolf, his size dwarfing not only the Reindeer but most furniture within the penthouse. Facing the mirror, Ilya's hands were working on undoing the cuffs and the suit while his eyes darted from the Reindeer to the object of such a late meeting.

“Schedules, mail, meal. It's still possible to postpone the collar therapy," said the Reindeer, his face as tame as possible despite the intense need and desire for the Werewolf to give in.

And give in, Ilya did: “No. If my therapist ordered me to, it is better to handle it."

It had all been a stroke of luck. Ilya had been seeing a therapist for years to handle his anger issues. Most of which stemmed from a deep-seated hatred? Or so Lambiris inferred from the short exchanges as they kept in touch despite the distance. They no longer saw each other in direct seances, making it easier for the Reindeer to slip in between and prepare the terrain.

To the Werewolf, this would only be a new therapy that was supposed to work well with Werewolves. All was confirmed by Lambiris and his discrete seeding of such information within the office.

Perhaps Ilya would have some issues when seeing what had been inscribed on the medallion, but it wouldn't matter.

And thus, with a feigned ignorance, Lambiris watched. His eyes were drawn to the half-naked and immense Werewolf lifting the collar that looked perfectly adapted to him. Ilya lifted it, observed it, and… Scoffed.

“Good bitch? Did you take the right one?" asked Ilya, looking down at the Reindeer.

“That was the one in the parcel. And it fits your size; I doubt it could be anything else," confirmed Lambiris.

“Fine. But remember, what happens here shall not be divulged. I trust you more than my other assistants," said the Werewolf, already putting the collar on. Just a few seconds more, and it would be fit.

“I won't speak of it," confirmed Lambiris.

But inside? He desired to gloat, to mock, to humiliate that Werewolf who had seen him as nothing but a tool or a slave. And when the collar closed, it was… Exhilarating. Lambiris felt the energy rushing from the contraption to his body, felt all that vigor flowing toward him as he looked at the distraught Werewolf.

“So… I will start, I think," said the Reindeer, faking some doubts and uncertainty. “Ilya, sit!"

Domestication was the Therapy's name. One that was quite perfect as the Reindeer saw his boss fidget, surely feeling weaker from the enchantment. But sitting like a dog, hands between his thighs and his face up. He looked pathetic, and yet that was what the Reindeer desired as he extended a hand to rub the Werewolf's muzzle.

“Good boy… Huh. Is that good?"

“Yes! … I mean! Bark! Bark!" replied Ilya, following the indications the Reindeer had fed him through the fake exchanges. But more would come when Ilya started to warm up to the sessions.

“Good! Let's see what else we can do!"

---

Lambiris reclined, feeling gladsome without having to fake it. He watched on his personal phone the slew of messages his boss had sent to him. With a little change on Ilya's phone, all private exchanges between his therapist and the Werewolf had been redirected to Lambiris.

The Reindeer answered each question and worry by comforting the Werewolf and ensuring he agreed to the conditions.

Was it humiliating for a big male like him? Yes, but that was how he would get domesticated and handle his emotions better.

Why did it have to be with Lambiris and not his therapist? Good question, but that kind of therapy had to be done with someone in your private circle.

Was it necessary to strip? It was an experimental therapy, and tests proved that stripping gave better results.

The Reindeer was having a field day when he finally sent the message to the Werewolf:

“The process of domestication can make you feel different or excited. Should you experience this, you must talk with your designated helper whenever possible."

His pants were about to burst as he quickly set his phone aside and watched his Boss appear in the office, hunched, after a quick knock.

“Lambiris? Can we talk?" asked the Werewolf, meek and pulling on his shirt, hiding away the collar beneath.

“Of course, Boss. Is there something you must ask? Is this about our star model leaving?" answered the Reindeer, trying to be as sympathetic as possible.

“No, it's a private issue," contested the Werewolf as he lowered the blinds on the glass panels to hide away the open space behind before approaching. “I-… I am… Horny."

“Excuse me? What do you mean?" asked Lambiris, although he knew perfectly what the enormous canine meant. Those pants were about to burst from that erection, the seams about to rip apart. How did he pack that bulge, and people didn't call him out as they walked with their eyes right at crotch level? That was a wonder. But Lambiris tried not to be too condescending.

“I must ask for your help. As my helper, I need you to help me handle those urges. There's no one else I can ask."

Internally, the Reindeer grinned, but outside, he stood up and displayed his most pathetic face: “Really? If you want, I can call one of the escorts you liked last month."

“No!" shouted Ilya, his ears standing out… Then dropping. “You… Must do this for the therapy. I need you to domesticate me."

That was all the words Lambiris desired to hear. It was like music as his pathetic face disappeared, and he replaced it with a smile: “Of course! Strip, Ilya!"

Should he have shouted jump through the window, the Reindeer imagined the Werewolf would have followed. But it didn't happen as, instead, his Boss started to strip like before while… he wagged his tail? That was way too easy for the Reindeer. He faked sympathy while the vest, shirt, and pants were dropped, trying not to smile as he felt the surge of energy from the Werewolf to supply his body with energy.

He sensed the vigor, the strength linking their bodies… As well as the tension and pressure in his pants. But he didn't divulge them, not yet.

“Come, doggy," said Lambiris with a chuckle, innocent to the outside world, as he scooted his chair away from his desk to present himself to the Werewolf with the legs spread and the pants bulging. “I have a treat for you."

“You-“

“Remember, Ilya, Doggy only bark."

The deer knew he was pushing the limit, edging on what could be discerned as lust or controlling envy. But he couldn't tiptoe around the Werewolf endlessly; he had to prod and see if Ilya desired it, wanted it, like all those stupid predators eagerly dreaming about submitting to preys.

And… Ilya barked. Not loud enough to pierce through the soundproofing.

“Good boy!" approved Lambiris, a genuine smile appearing as he undid his belt. The buckle released, the buttons undone, the white jockstrap pulled down… And the Werewolf approached the Deer's erect shaft.

Already, Ilya's naked groin was stirring, too. His shaft, or the tip of it, pushed through the purple sheath whilst his low-hanging testicles were swaying with each step. This was… delicious for the Deer as he felt his Boss's warm breath on his genitals. The canine huffed and inhaled, surely taking in that smell: earthy, reassuring, with an undertone of moss. Again, Ilya huffed, and his mouth opened, revealing those sharp teeth but mainly that drooling tongue.

“Go for it; you've been a good boy."

Good boy. It wasn't what Lambiris thought about the cocky Werewolf, but he praised him and scratched his head to ensure his consent… And perhaps to see how that predator wagged his tail while servicing another man.

With a sigh, the Deer reclined and pushed on his Boss' head, guiding him to take the dripping tip inside. He sighed some more as those silky lips closed on his dick, and the Werewolf minded his teeth. There remained the touch, the caresses, and the tongue strokes inside Ilya's mouth, with the warm breath sending shivers up the Deer's spine until all his hair stood up. It felt-

“Good…"

Lambiris mumbled, closing his eyes and embracing the moment and instant when he held onto his Boss's nape and called the shots. No, more than that… He held onto his Boss' vigor and power. All that energy beneath his finger was a touch away from being stolen. And… he touched it.

He passed a long, languorous finger over the collar as the rush of energy followed inside his veins. With a single touch, all sensations were more intense and unveiled.

From the warm exhalation on his hairy nuts to the mouth carefully suckling, to the bite of the leather chair against his back, Lambiris felt everything in a different but more intense way.

His eyes opened wide, and the light almost blinded him. His nostrils opened to new scents and perfumes he hadn't conceived before. His tongue reminded him of all he had eaten the last few days.

Then, his mind became accustomed. He became accustomed to the feeling of his pants nearly ripping at the seams and his chair creaking under his added weight. The Deer's bulging muscles moved as one to keep a firm grip on the Werewolf's head as the muzzle descended and… The poor Canine began to gargle. That poor throat suddenly had to accommodate a shaft that had gained more than a third of its length. And the tip, red and drippy, now poked the back of that throat with no mercy for the Werewolf.

“A good boy takes it all in," said the Deer with a lascivious grin while he watched the pained expression on Ilya's face. But those pitiful dropping ears and teary eyes weren't enough to make Lambiris pull back. He would do worse to the Werewolf.

And he did, by suddenly pulling on the Canine's collar and pulling him down, forcing that muzzle down until that nose rubbed with his hairy groin. Lost in those silvery tufts, Ilya's face looked dumbstruck, shocked, stupid from the surprise. But said expression mellowed when that nose was graced with all the potent scent emanating from Lambiris, an Alpha's scent. A smell so strong it erased the scent of fear and worries from the Beta.

“That's it. Good boy, long breaths, you'll get it," encouraged the Deer, no longer retaining his sneers at the canine. He didn't have any respect for Ilya… And he could finally drop the act and grab the bitch by the collar.

“Take a long, deep breath; you'll need it," he continued, his big hands grasping the Werewolf by the collar and peeling him back. The Werewolf's eyes widened, and his lungs filled with that musky perfume. But when the full revelation hit him, it was too late.

Lambiris' enormous shaft plunged back into his throat, forced down by the iron grasp on that collar. Ilya gargled again, his mouth accommodating something bigger than most males in the office or he had met. Lambiris was hung, so much it hurt the Canine's jaw.

Yet, the Deer didn't care if his Boss suffered and mewled like a pathetic pet. His hands were firm on that collar, pulling the bitch up and down at a quickening pace. Throat-slime and saliva dripped from the ajar mouth, fell onto the sloshing nuts, the creaking chair, and the prized mat.

“You're a good boy, are you? Taking me all inside you. But you want your reward, do you?" asked Lambiris, his voice scornful. His anger, his hatred, he no longer hid them as he looked down at the Canine while pulling out.

The Bitch's eyes were back at him… And Ilya barked. Eliciting such a warm grin, genuine and perverted, when Lambiris forced Ilya to choke down on that cock. He listened to the music of that Bitch's choking, felt the throat clenching on his length that quickened trickle of air rubbing his groin, and the saliva dripping all over him.

The Deer was in paradise and… It didn't take him long to feel his orgasm growing and climbing from the pits. He felt the spark in his loins, the slight tension. And… he sighed.

He sighed while listening to his Pet's muffled recrimination, choking as he was on that flood of cum down the throat. Wave after wave, Lambiris felt the contraction occurring within his groin, sending more cum within his Pet's throat until he was left sore and spent. His tight nuts were empty, his dick soft within the Canine's throat… And more than that, he could see Ilya's dwarfed stature adorned by a bulging belly. One Lambiris admired as he slowly opened his shirt and removed it, only to extend his arms above his head to expose his tufty pits.

“It's time to give your master a bath, pet."

---

“Bark! Bark! Bark!" tried to cry Ilya, his deep voice dangerously high… Yet, muffled by the Deer's right pit. Lambiris kept his boss's head locked in the sweat-caked fur with a firm hand.

“Silence, Pet!" he grunted, the other arm around the Canine's waist to steady his position in the tiny stall.

It was difficult enough to stay discrete in the employees' stall, right in the middle of the open space. But it was more so when his needy Pet continuously cried and desired to bark like the dog he was taught to be.

In a way, the Reindeer couldn't be happier to witness Ilya's evolution. He might have been a bit difficult with the first days with the collar. But that cocky attitude and disdain for him? Oh, it had melted away, and whenever they had an occasion, he would be dogging around until Lambiris gave in to his needs.

“That's what you get for bothering me while I take a piss!" grunted the Reindeer, his big paws holding onto the Canine's body and crushing his side until he was right in place to take all of Lambiris's length inside.

A length that was humongous yet perfectly nestled into that bulging belly. The Werewolf's hole deliciously tugged on his dick, and that rim suckled his base… Did Ilya learn this over the last few weeks? The Reindeer doubted it as he kept hammering those cheeks, beating them red and blue while his testicles hit the Canine's gonads.

Once more, Lambiris' orgasm was arising in his loin, and he had the perfect fuckhole to fill with what churned in his nuts. He didn't hold back, not that time.

“You want it? That's right, doggy?" he painfully groaned, hardly managing to shepherd the bitch and keep that mouth deep into his pits.

“Bark! Bark!" finally cried his boss, his eyes brimming with joy while high on Alpha musk.

Something Lambiris watched, loved, and despised at the same time. But he gave in, slowing down his hips and instead going deeper into that ass. He released his Pet's muzzle and freed it from the dripping fur. Next, the Reindeer pushed against that broad furry back. He forced the Canine to bend over the toilet before he grabbed the Werewolf's hard knot to point it down.

“Hrmphh! Cu- Cum for me!" harshly whispered Lambiris, bending over and shifting his position to dig deeper, to dig until all his length was perfectly nestled and hitting Ilya's prostate.

One thrust, a second, a third… And the Werewolf nearly howled, if not for the Reindeer biting his throat. Instinctively, the Canine knew he had to keep quiet while that orgasm shook that dark-furred body. The ruined hole clenched along the whole length, the legs wobbled, and the knotted cock ejaculated. In a loud moan, the Canine emptied his balls right into the toilet. Each rope was adding up to the familiar sensation of cum pouring into his guts, of semen filling and stuffing his belly until the skin was sore and breathing painful.

With a pitiful moan, Ilya lowered his hand on his round belly, feeling it get rounder and bigger by the second as, above, Lambiris was reaching his climax and emptying his enormous testicles.

Lambiris's groin burned like an inferno. Shot after shot spewed out, filling those tightly plugged guts. With each breath, the Reindeer felt the increasing pressure against his dick and heard the sloshing sound coming from his Pet's guts. Today's filling had been more intense, he had taken more from the Wolf than he usually did… And in return, Ilya looked… gravid. Positively gravid as he huffed and moaned, his ears low.

Pathetic.

“Sit! On the toilet!" whispered the Reindeer as he pulled out and smacked Ilya's firm rump. He smacked it as loud and hard as he could despite the fur and felt the pained clenching that followed all over his dick. Yet, he kept pulling out and stepped back as much as he could in the stall, certainly not wanting to ruin his slacks and shoes for the day.

In return, Ilya was quick enough to turn and follow the order, sitting on the toilet as that volume of cum finally poured out.

Sitting like this, more than a quarter of his power and vigor taken away, Ilya didn't look as impressive. Not when he was cradling that belly and smiling with the dumbest and happiest expression a dog could muster. Yet, Lambiris didn't feel he wasn't done. Not when his Dick still reeked of canine musk and dripped from all those fluids.

Without waiting for his Boss to utter a word or call off that session, the Reindeer grabbed the collar to force his Pet to bend forward. All so that muzzle was at the right level to face that cum-coated and reeking dick. Cum and precum had been going into all the fold of Lambiris's foreskin, marking the skin with that intense perfume.

A perfume to which the Canine drooled with anticipation, yearning for that order.

“Clean."

Ilya nearly jumped on the shaft with his wide-open mouth, his teeth minded and his tongue wrapping around the shaft. If the taste of cum and ass was strong to the tongue, the Werewolf didn't seem bothered as he swallowed and slurped all the juices dripping from the cock. Moreover, his tongue started to swirl and dance over the skin and then against the foreskin. It slipped against the Reindeer's glans, then below, caught up with the frenum before pushing and darting further within the folds.

Spent as he was, Lambiris wasn't feeling so much of an orgasm raising but rather the delicate and enviable sensation of cleaning. Thorough cleaning, dared he to mouth silently, feeling the underside of his shaft given a complete attention before the beast moved on the right side while ascending.

“Good boy," he growled, scratching between the Canine's ears while the tongue danced on the upper side and then the left, turning counter-clockwise. And again, and more. Each pass was quicker, but the slurping noise from Ilya revealed some traces of fluids.

But it was nearly done.

Lambiris was almost done; his shaft felt clean… Cleaner than when he had used it in his Pet's ass. So clean that keeping up with that order felt useless, and he pushed Ilya's head back.

“Stop," he said, authoritative. He watched the Werewolf sit straighter on the toilet, uncaring for the flood of cum still pouring there.

“You'll stay there for the next twenty minutes; let everything out. I put your clothes in the next stall," merely said the Reindeer as he grabbed his slightly sticky shaft and shook it. Droplets of saliva fell left and right. But once he was fine with it, the Reindeer finally stuffed his giant cock and balls in his underwear, then hid it beneath his pants' zippers before the Werewolf, ready to step away.

“Master?"

Ilya's voice was so low. So weak, so… Inferior. His face turned away; Lambiris had to fight against a chuckle before he looked above his shoulders.

“Yes, Pet?" he said, not too disdainful.

“Could we do another session tonight? At my place?"

“If you need it, Pet," nodded Lambiris as he stepped out and closed the stall before him.

He immediately heard the lock behind him, but he didn't care. His steps went to the sinks. He needed to clean his hands and reflect a bit. Behind, he still heard the muffled growl of his Boss trying to push out all the cum that had been blasted in those guts. Good luck; it would take more than twenty minutes with how much he had ejaculated. However, Lambiris returned to his thoughts, cleaning his hands of all those fluids… And worries.

His boss was so accommodating now, so easy to use and abuse. Total access to his emails, accounts, information… Whenever Lambiris asked for something, his Bitch eagerly wagged his tail and offered what was asked.

Even now. Lambiris enjoyed the comfort of his Boss' penthouse, far from his compact apartment. Sleeping in an Emperor-Sized bed was different from the mat he used at home, and knowing the Werewolf was sleeping on the ground nearby was the cheery atop the cake.

Perhaps he could ask the Boss to give him the keys and move in?

The thoughts, the idea of milking the Werewolf of all he had was more than pleasant… But also dangerous, as Lambiris's name had to remain unknown, untouched, uncared. If he desired to stay out of danger… But then, it had only been through bold actions that he had managed to progress with Ilya and get him wrapped around his fingers. He could do more… Way mo-

“Meat! Do you know where Ilya is? We need his approval right now!"

barely had Lambiris heard the door flung; he saw a furry head popped inside. Another of the werewolf. A beast he watched while he shook his hands to get the water out of his fur.

The Reindeer restrained his glance from checking Ilya's stall… Rather, he checked the intruder.

“I have no idea, Lukas. Send me the mail, and I'll get our boss's approbation when he's back," he answered curtly. It would be handled in due time.

“Shit, no," answered the Werewolf as he snarled, his nostrils dilating and approaching the Reindeer. “You have his smell all over you. You're always around him and… Fuck? Are you sucking him? Don't Preys have no shame? Are you a predfa-

“Watch your words."

With a snarl and a growl, the Reindeer's firm hand grabbed the canine by the muzzle. Ilya's strength remained within Lambiris's body, pumping all that adrenaline he needed to keep that mutt's mouth shut and to lean forward, to force the bitch to lower his head and listen carefully to. His. Alpha.

“Watch your words, “pup". You don't want to anger me. You might bark loudly with your clique because I don't react. But I'll be clear: you are not an Alpha, not a beta. You're a dumb pup that needs to learn he can lose his place at any moment… Choose your words carefully."

“I-… I will send you the mail with all the details," mumbled the canine, his jaw released.

“Good boy. You can learn," praised Lambiris, smacking that jaw before stepping away.

---

The phone rang in the discrete penthouse, a clamor that broke the relative peace in the place until a small black-furred hand grabbed it and offered it back to its master.[I]

[/I]“Hello? Lambiris, Ilya's assistant, what can I do for you?" answered the Reindeer, his gargantuan hands shifting the phone from one ear to another before the first one returned to the leash.

“Hi! This is William Paco. I need to talk with Ilya. Is he available?" answered the voice through the phone. William Paco was one of the designers for the next collection and potentially a rising star. A safe bet for the company, yet another mutt like those Lambiris had to wrangle.

With a growl, the Reindeer answered and tugged on the leash: “No. Everything goes through me at the moment since he is busy. What's the matter? Have we not solved the issues with the previous iterations? Last I checked, the prototypes were great."

“Hrmph. Yes. But I'd like to have Ilya's direct confirmation for the changes. It's not my place to call out the decisions. But many of our predator customers might perceive dog collars as offensive."

“Tschh, dumb mutt," muttered Lambiris in petto, his head away from the phone as he gave another thrust. He wanted to do more to teach Ilya what it cost his company to be so lenient with other Predators. But it was enough to give that ass a good beating before he returned to the phone. “All forecasts state this: Dog collars will be the next big sell for our collections. Their sales are increasing, and capitalizing on them is crucial!"

“Are those Ilya's words or yours?"

Lambiris's eyes almost reddened as he reinforced his grip on the leash, hearing a yelp and a moan in return. One that made him look down and cut the micro for a second.

“You will wrangle that mutt for me, pet. He's questioning your Master," said the Reindeer.

“Yes, Master," answered Ilya, looking at the phone getting closer to his face before he activated the micro.

Right before that muzzle. That no-so-spectacular body.

Ilya's height and size were reduced to half of what he was; he seemed almost dwarfed to the Reindeer's eyes. The situation had changed, and it was now Lambiris calling the shot and making sure his Pet followed each of his instructions.

“What?" shouted the Werewolf at the phone, that mellowed expression taking on the feigned face of a predator, an Alpha. “What do you? You need my approval? That's what my assistant is for, dumbass!"

The Reindeer smiled, watching all that posturing and strength put on display, but there to put down a Pet who didn't know his place. A moment he savored… Likewise, he savored the slow pull-out he made. He watched his Boss's gut slowly deflate as the bulging dick retracted. He watched the slight shake over the black body and heard how Ilya fought against the need to heave, exhale, or even gasp. Even when his guts were wrecked by someone as big as an arm, the Werewolf managed to keep his cool and not cry…

Even when the Reindeer plunged deep, balls-deep, into that ass and made the bed squeak below them, Ilya remained calm.

And happy, and smiling back at his Master.

“What? I'm doing some workouts! That's why I'm not at my office! That's why my assistant takes my calls. Don't you know why I have an assistant? To handle moronic questions like these!" shouted Ilya, narrowly swallowing his saliva as the slow movement in his guts continued. “Next time you have something like this, Lambiris handles it, or you'll wait! I don't want to hear anything else, or I'll find someone to replace you and ensure you'll never find a job in the industry!"

With a firm press, the phone call cut. But right away, the ringing came. Another attempt to reach out the Werewolf cut with another touch as he looked at his master lovingly.

“Was that good, Master?" asked the Werewolf, his tongue out and eyes rolling. Especially when that leash tugged on his collar.

“Very good, you have been a very good boy, Ilya. A very, very good boy!"

He was such a good boy who eagerly offered his closest employees a journey to see an Anger-management seminary for Predators that even provided a newly found therapy called “Domestication".

He was an excellent boy for giving up his entire Penthouse to his Master.

He was… The perfect good boy who happily took up the Reindeer's full mast in his ass and yet begged for more.

For much more.

Even now, Lambiris leaned over him and tugged onto the leash as they fucked on the bed. The Canine's legs were spread wide open and welcomed the Reindeer's constant pushes inside… Again and again. Under the assault on that tender prostate, the poor Canine shivered and trembled… And ejaculated all over his black fur and bedding as more and more of his vigor was stolen tonight.

Tonight, his Master had taken more than half of his strength, and the Reindeer towered over him with his enormous dick, larger than his arms. His beaten-up ass was burning bright, but both men knew those smacking nuts were churning with so much cum…

“My good boy wants his reward? Right?"

Ilya didn't say yes or no. He barked.

He barked like he was taught when Lambiri's monstrous dick speared him, hit him deeper until his guts accommodated. And deeper again until he came his brain out. And deeper until his Master was deeply nestled inside him and came.

The black-furred Werewolf gurgled as cum began to pour from the corners of his mouth. Yet, the dumb Pet didn't complain as his Master kept humping and pumping more semen inside. Ilya's bulging belly kept growing under the flow of cum flowing inside.

The skin became taut, and the cock shape disappeared beneath the flow. And soon, the tight guts had turned into the equivalent of a gravid belly that stopped the Werewolf from seeing his genitals between his legs.

“Good boy," cooed Lambiris, admiring what expression his Boss arbored. Such a sweet, stupid, and pacified expression. One the Deer couldn't tire to watch as he offered a few more thrusts within his bitch.

One that broke into a stupor when Lambiris plunged again, ready to have another round with that furry rump.

---

The glass-wearing Werewolf leaned over his desk, hitting keys at an absurd pace while lines and lines of excels were filled while the other screen displayed the results. To Lambiris, this was a bit excessive, as a proper copy-paste would get the same result with some Excel magic. But it shouldn't have been the Reindeer's task to teach that Werewolf how to do his job. Especially one who called him meat when he could.

But for now, the silly canine was still focused on his work and ignored the world surrounding him. Would he do so if he heard the quieting whispers? Or the slight shifts as everyone returned to their desks? Or how some ran away to the restroom?

Too bad for Jerry, he wasn't paying attention like he hadn't been paying attention to the results he had provided this quarter. Results the Reindeer had to correct to get them right.

A large hand landed on the man's white shirt, and right away, Lambiris experienced it.

He sensed the thrill of a Pet's quickening heartbeat, the tender smell of fear, the tremor in the muscles. Down to the slight contraction in that jaw, down to those ears dropping.

There was a catharsis in it, a pleasure he desired to experience continuously. Yet, Lambiris leaned further, almost towering over the beta of a Werewolf. Glasses, polished teeth, clean breath, clean shirt… But where was his collar?

“Jerry!" the Reindeer suddenly said, picking up the cheeriest tone he could do. “Ah! I hope I'm not interrupting you or anything. Am I?"

“I-… I am working on the next estimate for the… uh… Marketing budget," muttered the Beta, his ears dropping further and his muzzle down. He didn't even dare to look Lambiris in the eyes.

“That's fine. They can wait a week. They are always too busy ranting and trying to corner the IT support to get new toys," answered the Reindeer, waving his hand before he grabbed an empty chair nearby and scooted it closer to sit on it.

The hands joined between his legs. Leaning slightly further, Lambiris invaded the Wolf's private space and knew it. It was a challenge to try to see what would be Jerry's reaction.

Old Werewolf, part of Ilya's core team and someone whose performances had always been low, yet he had been under the old Wolf's protection whenever his actions threatened the company's wellbeing. Not anymore.

“Seeee. I received your last reports; I checked them and passed them to another analyst in the finance team," started Lambiris by shaking his head, feigning ignorance. But then, he saw the Werewolf gulp and… Shrink in his chair.

“Oh, do not worry. It has all been handled," he continued, watching the Werewolf sigh of relief. “It would have been faster to have a trusted meat Reindeer to complete the work for you. But it was done and finished well within the timeframe."

The message slowly sunk in the Werewolf's mind, but Lambiris noted the details from the dropping, then standing up ears, the fur bristling. The Reindeer could almost see the cogs turn within that head.

“I don't get what you mean! I- I did a good work! The boss received and approved it, right?" retorted Jerry, deflecting. Good one.

“Oh! Yes, the reports have been approved. Not yours. But they have been approved," nodded Lambiris, feigning to close his eyes.

More shiver, more trembling. The Werewolf would have been no different than to be stuck before a truck's headlight. The smell of fear clung to him as his performances had been relatively low. And a PIP could be a pain for him.

The seconds passed, and the wolf fidgeted in his chair while Lambiris remained calm. He let him stew some more, patiently letting the poor Predator marinate in fear.

“Ah… You know, it is possible to pass through a Performance Improvement Plan. It's not the first time we had to draft one. It wouldn't hurt. I'm sure you can meet the standard required by HR."

Of course, nobody here believed it. Not Jerry, certainly not Lambiris. Perhaps the Wolf had gotten better at handling numbers, but each file was peppered with enough faults and holes an accurate audit would point out and demand emendations. The Facilitation budget was excessively high and had to be brought down.

The smell of fear hung higher, more intense.

“I don't know what to say. I have been working well with Ilya. I don't know why I should be put on PIP by a p… By an assistant," suddenly answered Jerry, finally finding his spine back. Too late, not at the right moment.

“But it's not me who calls the shot but Ilya. You wouldn't question the motivation and actions of your Alpha? Would you?"

Jerry suddenly lost his spine somewhere, probably in the same spot he had hidden his skills and ego. Remained the small man, shrinking in his chair out of fear.

“No. I wouldn't. Please. Tell Ilya I will get better, but there's no need for a PIP. It will get better!"

“I won't say that," suddenly cut the Reindeer, reclining and crossing his legs while letting his arms back, relaxed.

“Please! I need to stay he-“

“I won't say that because I want you to stay," smiled Lambiris, showing his flat, clean teeth, a direct smile that mellowed Jerry's expression.

“Y- You do?"

At that moment, Lambiris was certain the Werewolf made a little prayer to whatever god or notion he believed in.

“Of course I do. Imagine if you didn't improve during your PIP. It's unlikely, but we would lose you in the service. It would wound everyone's heart to see you part. You're like the team's beating heart we come to seek for guidance! You know that?" suddenly advanced Lambiris, his hand outstretching to stroke the Werewolf's shoulder.

“I-… I don't know what to say," answered Jerry, slack-jawed.

“Not only that but… Who could replace you? Sure, we have dozens of profiles knocking at our door. I even have a manager who wanted me to pass the message to promote a young rabbit who could be a perfect addition to the team. Imagine… A rabbit working in the open space with you all, isn't it crazy?"

Lambiris faked a laugh, just a few seconds, but he felt the muscles relax under his touch… And a timid sneer escaped Jerry's mouth.

“No. I prefer to stick up for you, Jerry. You're a sure value. However,…" the fingers danced closer to the neck. “We adhere to the strict rules of the Domestication method, here."

That throat bulged when the Wolf swallowed his saliva.

“I- I forgot it at home. Plus, it makes breathing difficult in public transport," the poor office worker mumbled.

“No, no, do not justify yourself! I totally get it," said Lambiris, removing his fingers. “I totally get it. But I think since Ilya is so set on evaluating your performance… Why not put you on the Domestication program so you can take a break? We have a few therapists that truly help with exhaustion. All paid by the company."

“Really?" answered the canine, his tail wagging again and his expression smiling. Wrapped. Around a finger.

“Yes. You won't have to work during that period; I'll ask the finance team to jump in. You recover. You make peace with all that stress and fear. And you get back to us fresh and ready?"

The Reindeer smiled, reclining again as the Werewolf pondered. But solely for half a second before he nodded: “Thank you, Lambiris, for helping me… And I'm sorry for calling you meat before. Y- You are nice."

“Bah, that's some hazing. I have seen worse! Maybe I should talk about more during our next team meeting. Now, I'll try to persuade Ilya to put you on the Domestication program," chuckled the Reindeer, shaking his head like he was chasing an idea. Then, he stood up and rolled the chair where he found it.

“Lambiris?"

“Yes?" he answered, looking over his shoulder and watching Jerry fidget.

“Do you think Ilya will be around today? I know he is swamped lately. But we're missing our Alpha," mumbled the Werewolf, returning his glasses.

“I don't think so. He's handling a few recent acquisitions. He's so busy I can hardly talk with him. I am always drained when I get home; I don't know how he does that."

“Oh… Tell him we'd like to see him after work next Friday."

“I will," nodded the Reindeer as he stretched his back and cracked his neck while he strolled through the open space.

The Werewolves were giving him a wide berth, certainly not wanting to be questioned like Jerry. But today, beyond the poor family man, he had no target. Instead, his stride wasn't motivated by a desire to be surrounded by them or micro-manage. They were good boys; most had their collars on and acted like good pets; they didn't need his presence or their Alpha.

So, he continued with a firm step toward the breakroom to get the Parcel he had ordered yesterday. The box was heavy, and any movement made it rattle and attract unwanted ears. Yet, Lambiris marched on with his package toward his boss's office. As usual with meetings, there was next to no light emanating from the office. But the Reindeer knew Ilya was inside, so with a quick swipe, he opened the door and closed it behind him with a hooved foot so no one could see what happened in the office.

Not that they could have understood with a mere glance. The curtains have been drawn, closing the office to the outside light. There were a few rumbles emanating from Ilya's office and the sound of a running computer.

“Do you know Jerry wants to see you at the After work? Perhaps we should have a little outing together? What do you think, Pet?" asked Lambiris, only hearing a muffled sound before he deposed by the parcel and knelt by to open it.

With excitation, he opened the carton and watched the displayed stainless-steel bowl. A massive one that could have dwarfed Lambiris… Before. The bowl was perfectly adapted for him to hold on to it and turn it, watching the “Bitch" graved on it. Then, he put it aside.

“You're right. We should have one. I'm sure a doggy like you wants to get out sometimes. And you know it, they finally delivered your favorite meal!"

The Reindeer laughed as he pulled the bag out of the carton. Without thinking, he pulled the bag's sides to rip it open, utterly ruining the “Regal Canine" name on it before pouring its contents into the bowl. The kibbles clanged against the steel, rolling and bouncing off while the entire bag was emptied and then thrown aside.

A whole serving, a whole bag, had managed to fill the bowl… And form a little hill atop of it. Lambiris watched it pridefully while brushing himself off.

“I know you're hungry. But no mess this time. Or you'll be punished," said Lambiris, finally approaching his Boss's desk. Another muffled sound came. A muffled bark. Fitting when the poor Dog had been fitted with a ballgag and had his muzzle stuck open. Stuck… Well, most of that body was.

Straps of leather and steel rods had been used to attach Ilya to his chair, naked. A bar joined his ankles cuffs together and another his wrists, while straps went over and around the chair to keep the limbs separated. Hence forcing the dog to have his legs spread and arms outstretched above his head while facing the computer's screen displaying some dog training videos. That part was mainly an ironic way for Lambiris to take revenge on Ilya, a way to reassure the canine of his behavior.

Even when the video shouted “Good boy", Ilya's tail wagged like crazy. And the Canine's eyes glimmered with joy. Particularly now as he tried to bark while his Master undid the straps and bondage to release him… Except for the leash he held on.

“Have you been a good boy, Ilya? Who's a good boy?" asked Lambiris with a sweet tone, leaning over the Canine as they were at the same height now… But the roles were oh so different.

In return, Ilya barked. He barked and pointed at himself with his paws, his dick already poking out of his sheath in anticipation.

“Yes! You are!" approved Lambiris, chuckling as he led the Canine to his meal. To that mountain of dry food. “If you are a good boy and don't make a mess, you'll also have a threat! That's what you want, right?"

With that, Lambiris squatted by the bowl, watching his Boss eating the little dry cubes one after another. They crunched under the Werewolf's teeth, but he watched not to make them fall outside as he stuffed his muzzle…

The Reindeer's scratched the Canine's ears, watched that tail wag, and that erect knotted dick drip on the carpet from anticipation… As both knew. If Ilya remained a good boy, his Master would fuck and breed him until his belly was round with cum.

Something both desired, both expected. But particularly, the domesticated Pet.