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Chapter 2: First Day on the Job

“C'mon, Reynard. Up."

“Ngh."

“Up or you get put in chastity for the rest of the day."

A vulpine face turns against the pillow, but no eyes open. “Don't threaten me with a good time, Darling."

“Up now or you get your creampie privileges revoked for the next week."

The Delphox's head, fur in completely bedheaded disarray, whips up. The blankets go flying aside, thrown off his body, and Reynard staggers onto his feet. “I'm up!" he says over the psychic link, loudly but also obviously still sleepy.

Ha. Got 'em. Devon's already fully dressed and leaning against the bedroom's doorframe while Reynard is busily blinking the itch from his eyes and straightening his fur. “Morning, love. You've got ten minutes to pull that plug out of your ass, clean up your pussy, and then I'm going to put your leash on and we're going to work whether you're presentably cum-free or not."

The fox boy lurches into action with a jerk, clawed toes skittering against the wood floors to the adjoining bathroom. Even though he closes the door, Devon can still very clearly hear the earth-shaking moan of his new pet finally being free of penetration. It wasn't a feeling he should get too used to. In fact, that moan was pretty cute... Devon feels his pants tighten. There wasn't a snowflake's chance in a Camerupt's asshole that they'd have time for a quickie before work. Oh well. That just meant Reynard's first few hours on the job were going to be very informative.

The Delphox emerges from the bathroom with a minute to spare, and he finds his Master waiting with leash in hand. “You... meant that, Darling?" he asks a bit nervously, but his wagging tail gives away his real thoughts on that.

Devon answers him by stepping forward, straightening Reynard's collar, and clipping the leash onto the loop bearing the “SLUT" dog tag. He grins down at the flustering fox 'mon, leans down, and steals a warm kiss from his lips. “Let's go," he murmurs to him. “And don't get too horny. If you pop a boner walking around in public, Master's going to have to take you aside and punish your misbehaving little clit. Got it?"

Reynard nods and shudders at the same time, so the two actions bleed together to make for a fox boy vibrating with excitement. Satisfied, Devon winds the leash around his hand a few times, shortening the lead, and tugs his pet along. Out of the house, onto the damp streets, and into the chilly air. Thankfully, those last two things were being countered somewhat by the waves of warmth coming off of the buzzing Fire-type he was pulling along at his hip. Devon sneaks a few sly looks over his shoulder during the course of the fifteen-minute walk, and Reynard has that middle-distance look in his eyes Devon's seen in Psychic types before, and it usually means they're talking with somebody over the Network. Devon didn't know who they were talking to exactly, but he could take a solid guess what the topic was. Reynard did seem to be the type to kiss and tell.

Well, good. Reynard was free to spread the word as far and wide as he wanted. So long as it stayed inside the Psychic Network and outside of the knowledge of those anti-Pokémon-sex whackjobs, he'd be free to keep emptying his nuts into Poképussy in peace. Let it never be said that Devon was a political person, but that was one right he'd fight for tooth and nail.

His fingers tighten on the leash. Nobody was going to take Reynard from him. Giratina himself could come down and demand Reynard from him, and he'd put that eighth-grader's drawing of a “cool monster" on its back and rape it completely senseless.

Devon's blood is running a bit hot by the time the walk is over. That was saying something, considering Devon was usually horny again less than an hour after a perfectly satisfying fuck, and the longer he went the worse it got. Reynard sleeping in meant no morning wood relief. He'd thought of blowing his load on the sleeping fox's face or just fucking his unconscious pussy, but he had a better idea. This was Reynard's first day helping out at Devon's workplace. Going in already a bit worked up was only going to make things more interesting.

Like, for instance, when Devon's met at the door by the daycare's other two assistants. The first there was the Alolan Ninetales that had been at the daycare for almost as long as Devon'd been running it. Their old owner dropped them off alongside a Miltank who could not be more aching for a hard dicking, but that was when Devon found out breeding these two was going to be a challenge, because the Ninetales was submissive as fuck and wasn't getting it up. He landed on a solution involving ramming the Ninetales in the ass, collecting the seed they were squirting, and then fucking the Miltank with one of those dildos with a pump to make it jizz. The damage, so to speak, had been done, though. The Ninetales' trainer didn't want one that couldn't make a few thousand Tauros eggs until one was “good". Devon thought the fey little fox was cute, though. So cute he almost didn't get him away from his old trainer before the slut was nuzzling into his crotch.

The Ninetales' old trainer thought he was being hilarious when he named the soft, Fairy-type male “Fruit". Once “Fruit" was done sucking Devon's cock as thanks for adopting him, he'd figured out what they were going with instead. The cool of the fox's mouth had made quite the impression on Devon. What fruit was most associated with cold? Persimmon. Shorten that a touch and you got Percy. He didn't have a way to ask what Percy thought of the name back then, but the way the mon dove back into his lap to swallow his dick was enough of a sign.

It did get Devon to thinking, though. See, Devon needed a mon for some basic communication to his Pokémon clients, and that meant a Psychic type. Except the sorts of Psychic types that could deal with the... unusual environment Devon created in his workplace made his options limited, and limited even more by not having the funds to do something extravagant like contract a Gardevoir. So he had to settle for adopting. Luckily, this was a daycare. Unwanted hatches streamed through by the hundreds.

So when a trainer with a Galarian Rapidash came in looking for a max HP, max Attack, max Defense, min Special Attack, max Special Defense, max Speed IV hatch, with an Adamant nature, Devon knew he was going to have his pick of the litter. He had a good feeling about the Ponyta spent a lot more time cantering around with the females than he did roughhousing with the males. By the time they'd grown into a Rapidash, Devon's every suspicion was proven true.

He'd hatched an absolute faggot. He named him Princess just because he knew it'd make people think he was a girl, and he'd get turned on being mistaken for one. He was off to a bad start on that front from being a pretty unicorn with luscious flowing locks of purple and teal hair, but he wasn't helping his own case by fussing over it constantly. Devon had him carrying around a little saddlebag full of grooming supplies, and it was Princess' job to follow him around and make sure all the client mons were kept clean. Most times, though, when the hairbrush wasn't being used on another mon, it was floating around in his own hair.

The downside was it turned out Princess wasn't exactly a crack translator. He couldn't manage words at all, not that Devon would have trusted Princess to not add his own “flourishes" to them. What he could manage was transferring over emotions, even more complex ones. Sometimes, if anything, it was more efficient than having to parse through what a mon was saying versus what they actually meant. But Devon had to admit he missed being able to understand what slutty things were falling out of the open mouths of the mons he was fucking.

Maybe Princess sensed that Reynard was coming to replace him at that job, because the welcome wagon went cold real fast. All it took was Devon tugging Reynard out from behind him, presenting him to the pair of assembled femboys like a beauty pageant contestant for the judges. “Meet Reynard," he told the pair of mons eyeballing the Delphox. “He's my new Pokémon, translator, and sex toy. Say hello, you two." Then, he sat back and waited for the show.

Reynard was probably going to be too involved in his own conversation to translate much for Devon, but any Human could have heard that “Nine Nine_tales_ Nine_tales_!" and known from tone alone that was a breathtakingly bitchy “Who the fuck are you?" There's a tennis match for a bit, Devon's eyes going back and forth between Reynard being smug and Princess and Percy being sour. At one point Reynard flicks his “Slut" tag, the metal clinking loudly against the padlock, and no words were needed to understand the boys' blazing eyes. Reynard's tone turns dreamy and lusty, with no need to explain to Devon he was waxing lyrical about last night and the boys were not amused.

Yeah, Devon had started a catfight. He knew he had. Wasn't much of a way around it though. It wasn't like he could keep his hands off Reynard at work forever. “If you three are done with introductions?" he says while failing to hide his mildly amused grin. “There's work to do. Princess, Percy, you know your rounds. Reynard, you're with me." Devon's pretty sure Reynard hits both boys with his wagging tail as they pass, at the same time he hears a pair of harmonised “hrmph!"s.

“Making friends, are we, Reynard?" he grins and leads the Delphox out the office's back door into the daycare's expansive yard.

“Naturally, Darling!" A little pink sliver of tongue pokes out of his muzzle. “Those bitches were saying that if I started making trouble they'd hold me down and crush my manhood off, but I said joke's on them, my new Master already used that one on me!" He giggles, kinda maniacally. “They got quite salty over that one, Darling!"

Devon raises an interested brow. “Did they?"

“Mhmmm! They told me all about how you use them as your little cumdump whores, Darling, but it would seem they're thirsty for some rougher stuff! That Rapidash with the pretty, pretty hair especially! He was all 'bitch, my cock is so much more impressive than yours, Mister Devon would get sooo much hotter punishing my dick!' The Ninetales got all quiet but I poked him a little and he started hissing about 'you aren't even pretty' and 'you think acting all slutty is going to make Devon like you more than us? Well it won't!' Darling, it was fucking funny." Reynard finishes his thought and looks around at the yard. He goes quiet and slows down so much Devon has to tug on the lead. “S-Sorry, Master!" he chirps. “It's just... there's... so many of them!"

Actually, it was a little on the slow side that day. They only had about a dozen pregnant females waiting on their eggs and another half-dozen getting their eggs pumped into their pussies in the “stables". Maybe to Reynard it looked like a lot of work was ahead of them, but there was method to the madness. “You'll get the hang of the girls' schedules in time. That's why you're sticking with me for now. All you have to do is obey."

The fox boy giggles. “Okay!"

“Glad to hear it." He leads Reynard to a very round-bellied Charizard slumped on its side in a patch of burnt, black grass, snarling up a storm and spitting licks of flame from her jaws. Devon fishes a bottle from his work apron's pocket, hands it to Reynard, and unleashes him. “Alright, your first job," he says as the far smaller Delphox looks nervously between his Master and the thrashing mon. “She's gone into labour. Use that heat-resistant oil and lube up her pussy."

Reynard blinks. Devon doesn't, and stares right back at him. “Seriously?" Reynard asks.

“Yes. Going into labour's raised her body temperature and it's evaporated off her natural slick. She's too dry. The eggshell's going to stick to her walls." He plants a hand on the Delphox's fuzzy back and pushes him forward. “You're the Psychic type here. Either talk her into being calmer or pin her with telekinesis. She's a big girl, she can take it. Now move it. If she starts passing the egg and it sticks, she's going to start torching a lot more than grass."

He watches the fox boy creep forward a couple steps, smiling at his back. What Reynard didn't know was that this Charizard was one of the sweetest Pokémon Devon had ever met, and she was only spitting fire because her temperature was so high. Reynard would probably find that out the second he started talking with her, but Devon was already getting his satisfaction just from watching the shaking legs of a boy obeying him despite their better judgement.

Soon, he got the additional bonus of having a show play out in front of him. Reynard eventually does oil up his hands and start working them into the Charizard's spasming pussy. His whole hand disappears into their cunt with plenty of room to spare, the lube squelching as he smears it all over her walls. She cums immediately, clamping on Reynard's wrist hard enough to make him squeal, but Devon doesn't let him quit mid-job. Soon enough the Delphox has no better option than to soak his arm fur in lube and go up to the elbow in her pussy to reach all the way in, the fey boy swearing the whole time. With a leer permanently in place, Devon walks Reynard patiently through the process of fingering open her cervix, lubing her walls just ahead of the egg to keep it moving smoothly, and eventually pulling it loose from the writhing, orgasming Charizard.

Charizard goes to a nice soft bed to cool off and recover, the egg goes into the warmer until pickup, and then Devon and a mildly traumatised Reynard are making for the stables. “Ready for job two?" Devon “asks". Reynard nods silently, but Devon throws him a bone, “I think you'll like this one better."

The Delphox's ear twitches. “Why's that, Darling?"

“Because it involves getting a male off."

The “stables" was really just a fancy name for a series of hay-lined stalls separated by wooden dividers, each fit with a different set of restraints, aids, or tools necessary for getting sometimes wildly different Pokémon into position to breed. Devon walks Reynard nonchalantly past the pair of Pyroar yowling and growling in the throes of intense rut, and the Miltank put up on a sawhorse to better line up with the Tauros cock bulging out their insides with every slamming thrust. At the end is where he stops, Reynard staggering a bit under the heavy atmosphere of musk.

In the final stall, Reynard meets the glaring, blazing eyes of a Houndoom. A choke chain has been looped around its throat, pulled taut, and its end clipped onto a steel loop screwed into the wall. A thick leather band straps shut its muzzle, keeping closed a mouth full of sharp teeth and fire, but not preventing the low, dark growl.

Devon pulls another small vial out of his apron pocket. “I'm going to put this Houndoom in rut," he explains to his wide-eyed pet Delphox. “We need his cum to use on another mon in the daycare, but he's been deemed too dangerous for a 'regular' mating. That's where you come in."

Reynard swallows and ventures, “Um... so I just... need to jerk him off? That's not so bad!"

“Oh, no." Reynard withers. Devon fetches down and shows the Delphox something: a silicon tube like a long vial, rounded at one end and open at the other. “Bend over. I'm going to put this in your boy cunt and let him fuck you. Keep your ass high and your face pointed down, or it'll spill when he pumps his load into you." The fox whimpers, nibbling his lip as he looks back to the growling 'mon, but he slowly bends over like Master told him. The collection tube is an easy size for him to handle, so Devon doesn't bother taking it slow and penetrates him with it all at once. The boy squeaks and moans, his cock budding up from his fuzzy sheath as it pushes on his button. “Good boy," Devon praises him. “Now get on hands and knees and crawl under him while I dose him with pheromone perfume."

He leaves the Delphox behind to slowly and nervously wiggle his way beneath the snarling Houndoom. A little distilled mixture of Field-group Pokémon's musk and heat hormones formed quite the potent scent. Every time Devon uncorked the bottle, it was like like walking into a forest in peak rut season. He doesn't even need to actually use any of its contents. Just holding the open bottle near a Field mon's nose was enough. It's the first time the Houndoom's stopped growling ever since he came to the daycare. It leans its muzzle up toward the smell, nose twitching like crazy and taking large, snuffling sniffs.

The effect is instant. The Houndoom shifts and dances on its feet, excitement replacing anger as the scent of breeding takes over its instincts. Its thick orange sheath starts pouring cock as bright red as fire, from an arrowhead tapered head a lot like its pointed tail-tip to a bulbous throbbing knot six inches later. It only takes a few seconds before it's rock hard and beading pre, officially well into the level of horny where it didn't care whether the hole it fucked could make an egg or not. By then, Reynard's crept into position. As soon as Houndoom senses a warm body under theirs, it hunkers down, draping itself over Reynard's back. The fox boy yips in tense arousal, because he knows what's about to happen next: Houndoom plants its clawed paws on Reynard's hips, and with his bitch pinned in place, it drives its cock into him.

The fuck is rapid and merciless, the Houndoom's hips pistoning sharply into the whining and moaning fox's receptive ass. Devon sits on his heels for a better view, admiring the sight of Slut getting their hole reamed. “He's speaking to you, isn't he, Slut?" he goads the boy. “Tell me everything he's saying."

At first Reynard just chokes and groans, but like he's tuning in a radio, the psychic link eventually fizzles in. “Ah, fuck, Master! H-He's calling me his bitch! He s-says he can smell my dripping cock so h-he knows I'm a f-faggot and I-I-I like it! He w-wants to knot me but it's sssso biiiiig, Master! Ooh, ooh it's too big, Master, please, I don't wanna get knotted!"

Devon snorted. “Yes you do. Tell him you want to get knotted. Tell him to force it inside you, right now." Slut wails something pathetic, but sure enough, the Houndoom snarls and its hips snap forward. It leans its weight down on Slut, pushing, pushing, harder and harder, while Slut cries louder and louder. His rim can't hold out forever, and he breaks. His hole stretches out wide, forced to take the thick, engorged knot, and Houndoom ties his bitch. Both 'mons cum on the spot, one squirting little stripes of foxy submission onto the straw, and the other pulsing thick shots of sperm-rich breeding cream into a bitch's hole where it belonged.

All Devon does is reach over and pop the clasp on Houndoom's muzzle strap so it falls open. The canine Pokémon needed to open his mouth to pant. Besides, they weren't going to bite now anyways. If they'd gotten too excited during the breeding and bit Slut's neck, a Houndoom's jaws were strong enough to crack bone. Now it was fine. All there was left to do was wait for the knot to go down, which left Devon with plenty of time to go check in on the other breeding pairs. The Pyroar female was looking sufficiently creampied, but once again the Tauros had gotten too eager as it got near orgasm and slipped out of its partner's too-short pussy. There's massive splashes of bull seed splattered all over the walls and floor, and practically none in the (frustrated and horny) Miltank's cunt. Devon makes a few notes on his clipboard with one hand and works the poor girl's clit with the other until the deafening moo lets him know she wouldn't be hopping on another male's dick and getting herself knocked up with the wrong egg.

By the time that's all done, he comes back to the last stall to a snoring Houndoom, and Slut moaning and shaking in a puddle of overspilled cum, but holding position just like he was told to. Devon slides two fingers into Slut's twitching hole and takes his sweet time fishing out the vial. He twists and spins it and even sinks it back in once or twice, but he lets Slut up after he's had his fill toying with him. “Open your mouth," he orders, and just like he likes to see, Slut does it immediately, probably without even thinking about “why". The cum vial is a bit too full to cork, see. Devon can think of no better place to pour off the top than onto a cum-thirsty whore's tongue. He gives Slut a good dollop of it and takes a moment to admire the pool of Houndoom breeding cream spreading across Slut's little pink tongue. “Swallow it," he says.

The wonderful thing about Psychic types is that they can say “Yes Master" even with their mouths full. He watches the gulp go all the way down their throat. “Good?" he asks, eyes trailing down Slut's body to their straining little dick. Slut nods enthusiastically. Devon knew they would. Not just because Slut's a whore, though that's part of it. But also because that was the cum of a Field egg group breeding male. For a receptive female or a subby fag in the same egg group, that stuff was just as potent as the pheromone perfume.

Hey, he said he'd be using Houndoom's cum “on" other Pokémon in the daycare. He didn't say it was for breeding a female! You know what other two 'mons are in the Field egg group? Ninetales and Rapidash.

“Come on, Slut. Lunch break time."

Devon knew the other two boys would be in the office. They really were diligent workers, but they never missed their breaks. There's two tables in the break room, one a regular height for people to sit at (so, just Devon), and the other low-set and made for sitting Pokémon. At the lower table, Princess and Percy are both laying down on their bellies, chatting over their bowls of berry salads. They look around as Devon walks in with Slut on his heels, and they throw each other little grins. They knew what that gleam in Devon's eye meant.

“Front and centre, faggots." Claws and hooves scratch on the wood floors as both 'mons scramble to the feet of the trainer taking a seat on the human-size chair. Rapidash folds their legs beneath them and Ninetales sits on their ass like an obedient dog, both Pokémon keeping themselves low and looking up with eager eyes. Devon looks over his shoulder at Slut hiding his rut-induced erection behind the back of his chair. “Don't pretend you're not a horny little whore," he growls. “Show the boys your tiny clit-dick."

Slowly, Slut creeps out around the chair to stand next to his Master. Instead of hiding his boner, the Delphox's thick fur forms a backdrop that makes his pink dick stand out and show off how small it is. Devon reaches over and drags a nail roughly along the sensitive underside, just to embarrass Slut by showing how the pain makes his prick drip. “See that?" he comments to the assembled boys. “He's a total masochist. Loves it when his femboy cock gets punished and his cunt gets ripped open." Devon side-eyes his audience. “I hear you three didn't exactly start off on the right foot. So I thought I might arrange for a little team-building exercise this afternoon."

He turns his head to Slut as Princess and Percy glance at each other and smile. “Slut. On your hands and knees. Princess, up. Put your sheath in his face. Slut's going to suck his lunch meal from your cock." He watches Slut's nose wrinkle and lips grimace, but he sinks to all fours. Princess' smirk is wide as can be, trotting over with a sashay in his hindquarters. Devon's pretty sure he spies Slut rolling his eyes, but their face soon gets occupied when Princess unceremoniously pokes his furry cheek with the tip of a heavy sheath. “Open up, Slut," Devon reprimands him as he beckons forward the Ninetales to pull open his pants with his teeth. “Say thank you to the nice boy for giving you his cock to suck."

To Devon's eyes, Slut does as he's told, opening his lips to let the fast-growing horse dick spill out of its sheath into his mouth. The wide head wedges open the fox's little jaw wide enough to hear a click. Slut apparently didn't like that, because Devon suddenly receives a psychic impulse from the Galarian Rapidash: a whining, petulant feeling that screamed “I'm telling!"

“Slut?" Devon's tone goes dark despite how eagerly Percy is bobbing his head on Devon's shaft. He sees the Delphox freeze up, finding a way to wince through a mouth full of horse cock. “I told you to say thank you to Princess. Did you disobey me?"

A meek voice enters his mind. “Y-Yes... Master..."

Devon's eyes flash. “What did you say instead, Slut?"

“I... called him a... side 'ho... Master."

He looks to Princess. “Thrust in. Go down his throat, and don't pull back until I say so." The Rapidash's powerful ass flexes, the femboy's jarringly huge dick bulging out Slut's thin little neck. He keeps feeding in more and more meat, until the medial ring disappears past Slut's stretched-taut lips. Slut's wriggling, harder and harder the deeper the cock goes, but there's now so much Rapidash dick stuffing his tight throat that he couldn't easily pull back even if he wanted to. “Fuck his stomach," Devon orders bluntly, threading his fingers into Percy's cool and silky-soft fur to control the jerking of his head. “Blow a good hard load into it. Slut's had a long day. He needs a nice big lunch." He always liked fucking Percy's face best when he needed to last, since the cooler temperature kept him from cumming. He'd need the time, because he settles into his chair and relaxes into a rhythm of driving Percy's head while he watches Slut getting suffocated on Princess' fat dick thrusting gut-deep. The Rapidash's heavy brown sack gets enough sway to slap Slut's chin and forewarn him of how much seed the thing is packing, and it's a lot.

Soon enough, Princess' hips are pistoning and Slut's clawing at the floor planks in desperate need to breathe again. “Cum, Princess," Devon grunts. “When he passes out, just use telekinesis to keep him there and rape his throat again." Slut screams, but Devon watches in amusement as Slut creams himself too hard for the cry to actually sound frightened. It uses the last of his air, and Slut's Master nearly nuts down Percy's muzzle when the light fades from his eyes.

Then, as soon as Slut's fainted and can no longer intercept the psychic emanation, Devon projects a feeling to Princess: Mercy. Immediately, the Rapidash's hooves clatter as he wheels back, dragging his meat all the way out of Slut's throat. It feels so good that he blows his load right after clearing Slut's lips, his cock bouncing madly and spraying sweet-smelling and shining white gushes of cum all over Slut's head, back, and tail. It's like throwing a bucket of water over a sleeping person. Slut jerks and sputters, just in time for Princess to spurt out the last of his load square onto Slut's face.

Devon drags Percy's mussed and cock-drunk face off his dick. “Percy. Down." The Ninetales rushes to the ground and throws his chest down, lifting his powder-blue ass and raising all nine tails high. “Princess, drag Slut over here. Kneeling, just in front of Percy." Princess' violet horn glows a soft pink, and invisible psychic force jerkily hoists Slut up and wheels him into position, depositing him on his fuzzy and slightly damp ass. His knotted red rocket bobs in front of Percy's face like a cat toy, a simile that was about to have unfortunate implications for Slut.

“Percy. Show Slut how a good boy obeys his Master." Devon sinks the tip of his cock into the cooling but gratifyingly tight boy-cunt, Percy's moan sounding played up but plenty sexy. “See that knot in front of you, Percy?" he asks.

“Nine!"

“Bite it." He slams his hips forward, the Ninetales groans a pretty note of pure ecstasy, and when his muzzle closes, it's over Slut's bulging red knot. The Delphox wails, tries to jerk back and squirm away, but the psychic force holds him tight. Devon's thrusts crack against Percy's ass, rewarding obedience with the hard dicking all of his boys crave. Slut, however, was getting what Slut deserved. “Bite harder!" Devon growls, pace picking up speed. “Sink your teeth in until you taste blood!"

Slut's wheezy scream gets Devon's cock throbbing, but before he gives Percy his reward, there was one more thing he needed to be sure of. “Princess! Cinch a ring under his knot. He doesn't deserve to cum." The band of power is completely imperceptible to him, but he knows Slut's cumvein is pinched closed by the needy, slutty whine Slut makes. The pain in his cock was probably about to make him bust his nut again, but no. He needed to earn the privilege back. First, though, Devon lets the pleasure overtake him and pumps a hot, thick cumshot into Percy's receptive boy hole. Like a good boy should, the Ninetales coos and whimpers and squeezes the throbbing dick inside him. For the only 'mon of the three who couldn't directly speak to him, Percy always made his thanks clearly known anyway.

Devon pulls out still rock hard. “You can let go, Percy. Go recover. I need to teach Slut his lesson." The baby-blue ass rapidly oozing cum staggers away, clearing the line between Slut and his Master. He reaches down and roughly manhandles the injured penis, pressing his thumb over the many little wounds to draw out more drops of blood. With his finger coated in it, he smears it over Slut's muzzle, staining golden fur red. “Soak in that scent, Slut," Devon hisses. “Remember it. Disobedience smells like your own spilled blood. Feel it deep in your instincts. You're a slave to Master's cock. If you think for even a second before blindly obeying me, then I haven't beaten you badly enough yet."

Slut's crimson eyes water, but he nods. “Yes Master."

“Beg for a punishment. Tell me why you deserve it."

“I deserve to get beaten and raped, Master. I was thinking for myself instead of obeying you like a good faggot slave should. I deserve to have my tiny clit-size dick hurt, Master."

“Correct, Slut. You do. Look at me." He waited for Slut's hazy eyes to drift up and meet his. “I'm going to get Percy to use a little Ice power to chill your cock back into its sheath. Once it's all the way soft, we're going to go to my office, I'm going to get my stapler, and I'm going to staple closed your sheath." That was the look he was waiting for: Slut's eyes go so wide Devon thought they were going to fall out of his head. “Do you deserve that, Slut?"

Devon waits. He knows this one's going to take a minute for Slut to get out. He doesn't care about how long Slut takes to say it, all he cares about is what Slut says next. Eventually, the psychic connection timidly opens, and in floats a tiny, quiet, “Yes, Master."

“Right answer." Devon leans in and presses a firm but warm kiss to Slut's bloodstained lips. He can feel the tension melt right out of Slut's body, despite the threat hanging overhead. How sweet. With the connection still open, he's free to transmit a thought back to Slut without the other two boys overhearing, “I'm going to take you to my office now... and spank your cock and balls until you cum yourself dry. Then, I'm going to bend you over my desk and fuck you until my nuts are empty and you're jizzing blood. Now sniffle a little, or the boys will catch on."

He stands up. “Princess, Heal Pulse. Release him." A soothing wave of psychic energy washes past him, and Slut sighs in relief as the wounds on his dick knit closed cleanly. The sigh ends prematurely, however, when the psychic restraints suddenly drop, and Slut collapses backward with a thump and a squeak of indignation. Devon's quick to begin striding away, walking past the smug faces of the two other boys, and he hears Slut's toe-claws skittering on the wood floor to catch up.

It's quiet for a few seconds. Then, drifting into his mind so quietly that it seems like a mistake, he hears, “...Why?"

“Simple. You didn't deserve that punishment. That wasn't what the question was for. I put something terrible in front of you and demanded you submit to it because I ordered you to. You did. You proved you learned. Layering an over-the-top punishment onto all of that would just muddy things for you. A slave learning a lesson deserves a reward, not a punishment." He throws a toothy grin over his shoulder. “Which is why I'm going to slap your clit-dick around until it's sprayed every drop you have onto your belly, and then rail you like the faggot bitch you are. I know what a 'reward' is to whores like you."

“...Thank you, Master."

“You're very welcome, Slut."