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Zelda would make the claim that she was nothing like her brother, who chose to hide himself deep in the cavernous interior of a college dive bar.

She wasn't his complete and polar opposite, but they only had a couple of things in common, starting with their penchant for having control over other people.

The second aspect, at best, was their appreciation for alcohol; how they decided to show that appreciation was also a very different display, and while Zelda utterly refused to set foot in the bar that Zack managed, she was more than happy to hang out uptown in a place that required more than the usual security detail.

Such high-end establishments weren't hard to find, but one with such an exclusive guest list was just what Zelda was after: a place where she could know that she was surrounded by fellow elites, without having to worry about the riffraff coming in and trying to strike up a conversation.

The lobby was such a modern and opulent display that even some people who made it through the door didn't feel comfortable hanging around. Everything was made of glass, steel and crystal, save for the pale, white ask that made up the wide, satisfying planks on the floor. The couches that decorated the multiple levels of the intricately designed interior were fitted with only the finest of black leathers, made to grant comfort without taking too much away from the beautiful genius of an architectural vision.

It was on one of those couches that Zelda was lounging, taking up more of it than she needed to. In front of her, a thin champagne flute was still bubbling with the vitality of her drink, and though she was granted a false sense of solitary space, there was always a waiter standing nearby and expecting her next drink order to come through.

That her name was kept on file meant that she never had to bring any cards or other forms of payment, and upon showing up at the door, she could simply drop her name to get inside.

"I'd take any of those three-piece slobs down there and show them what it means to be in control, honestly. They're a bunch of chumps if they think they can keep up with me..."

Zelda enjoyed the silence.

She was not the biggest fan of people walking up to the higher levels of the bar, where she usually found just the right rumble of ambience among her peace and quiet. Worse still was when a boisterous voice rose up the stairs and rattled her ears, forcing them to flatten slightly with discomfort.

"They think they can buy my affections with cheap drinks and cheaper pick-up lines; honestly, I bet they'd all crack after just a minute under my thumb!"

"You know, they say that the smallest dogs bark the loudest, but you're no petite thing, are you?"

Zelda fearlessly locked eyes with another woman, staring across the small, uniquely shaped area. When her target's neck bristled, she stayed utterly content on her couch and only reached out to delicately twirl her champagne flute.

"I'm not sure who the hell you think you are, but I'm not opposed to putting a woman in her place, either. Just because you don't have a dick doesn't mean you're safe from me, bitch."

Zelda's lips curled in the tiniest smirk. "Do you really think that it's necessary to stoop to their level and brag about the theoretical size of your own dick, then?"

"Very clever," the woman shot back, rolling her eyes. A tall, slender display of beauty, the German Shepherd wasn't taking kindly to being called out that way, but the fact that her would-be opponent was so composed left her unnerved on the other end. "Why don't you mind your own business, sweetie?"

"I gladly would, if you weren't projecting that business so loud that people at the bar across the street can hear you. Perhaps you'd be better off hanging out there? I hear it's a bit more of your speed."

"You don't know my speed...you don't know a damn thing about me."

"I know that you like to brag," Zelda corrected her. "I also know that you seem to think you can bend any man or woman to your whims and dominate them, which...believe me, I respect your bravado, but take it from someone who can actually do that: you're not quite there yet, darling."

"You...really think you can tell all of that about me at a single glance?"

"Your presentation would lead me to believe that you're talking about what you want, rather than what you have."

"And I suppose sitting there in silence, sipping from your fancy glass and acting like a pompous bitch is evidence that you do have that?"

Zelda lifted a single digit, predicating a sip of her drink. Her fellow canine was shocked that she would take such a long and arrogant pause in the middle of their chat, but somehow, she didn't have the gumption to call her out about it.

"Did you notice just how silent you were while I took my drink, dear?"

"I was being polite."

"But you didn't have to be," Zelda explained. "The way you were yelling when you came up here, I fully expected you to just keep talking over me...but the fact that you waited means that you can be taught."

"Taught what, exactly?"

As the empty glass was set on the table in front of her, Zelda's eyes left her new companion and locked onto an older one: clad in only a suffocating, tight pair of black slacks, a man set down a glass of the same bubbling liquid in front of her and bowed to her; he didn't move further.

"How to walk the walk," Zelda explained, "Instead of just talking the talk."

She took another long sip from her glass and, approving the choice, she delicately patted the gentleman on the top of his head. "Well done, Elliot. You may go now."

He bowed an inch further before standing up. As he turned and left, it became clear that he wasn't an employee of the bar, but his loyalty to Zelda was unquestioned, even from the momentary display.

"Is he...yours?"

"One of many who pledge themselves to me, yes."

"He's spending his weekend on your beck and call to bring you drinks."

"You're very perceptive."

The German Shepherd was speechless.

"Come," Zelda murmured. She patted the couch next to her and offered the first genuine smile of their conversation. "It's been a while since I've had such an alluring apprentice. What's your name?"

"Gretchen," she answered. "But who said I was your apprentice?"

"I did," Zelda answered quickly. "And in case it wasn't clear yet, it would behoove you to take your seat sooner than later."

Gretchen didn't put any stock into the nine seconds that it took her to finally shrug and take the spot next to Zelda, but every single one of them was taken into consideration as Zelda watched her movements.

"Okay; I'm sitting. Now what?"

"Now, you wait for me to finish my drink," Zelda told her. "And when I'm done, I guess I'll have to change my schedule for the night."

"You don't have to do anything on my behalf, stranger."

"Mistress Zelda is what you'll call me," she replied. "And it's what you're going to do on my behalf that's going to force us to leave the bar."

**

At first, their passionate exchange seemed like nothing more than the preview to what they both expected to happen.

Gretchen followed Zelda back to her car, didn't even think of dodging the kiss that the Doberman offered when they came to stand before a tall, stately mansion on the other side of town, and her clothes coming off just seemed like the next logical step in where the night should go.

She was reduced to the matching black lace of her brassier and her panties before she knew what hit her, and yet, Zelda hadn't removed a scrap of clothing from her body. She was dressed for the grand entrance that they currently stood in, and no matter how Gretchen pressed at her to remove her overcoat, Zelda outright refused.

"You don't still think that you're going to be the one in control of this exchange, do you?" she asked, cocking a brow at Gretchen as she went in for the front of the coat once more. "Do you have any idea how _undisciplined_you're acting right now?"

Gretchen didn't expect those words to freeze her progress, but as she heard them, she felt the sting of Zelda's judgment. It wasn't _quite_enough to stop her, but as her paws landed on the front of Zelda's coat, she hesitated, even when she finally had what she wanted in hand.

"What does discipline have to do with the two of us having fun?"

"You came here for a lesson, didn't you?"

The fellow canine blinked, and slowly, her paws slipped back and down, until she was standing just a breath back from Zelda once more. "And I suppose you'll deny me that chance if I don't do exactly what you say?"

Zelda's mind games were the stuff of legends. The moment that Gretchen gave herself up, she felt a pair of dainty, yet _powerful_paws grab her arms and hold them at her sides. "I'll deny you whatever I want...that's the beauty of being your new mistress," she explained. "But it's so much more fun when you can get a submissive bitch to give up on her own, rather than forcing her into it...wouldn't you agree?"

Gretchen blinked, her cheeks flushed by the way that Zelda held her with such authority.

"No...you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? There's always a transaction there for you: money, alcohol, a favor...but this is deeper than that. This is you realizing that your greatest calling in life is to serve me, Gretchen."

The German Shepherd stared up at Zelda and finally, she rolled her eyes at the thought. "I don't suppose this speed is supposed to be breaking me, is it?"

"Just some food for thought," Zelda explained. "If you're more interested in being broken physically, I don't mind doing the heavy lifting, though it's not really my style."

Physical violence never factored into Gretchen's expectations, save for a few slaps on the ass and a little aggressive holding.

When she felt a palm come to rest against her throat, it was little more than a rush; she expected some choking to happen at some point in the night, but what started as a thrill quickly turned to panic when the single paw began clenching hard around her neck.

"If you're only going to use your voice to insult me, I'm afraid I can't allow you to speak in my presence," Zelda explained. "Lucky for you, the lesson of becoming a dominatrix doesn't require any speaking on your part. It just requires you to listen, and clearly, you aren't exactly skilled at that."

For most, the beginning explanation was all that it took for Zelda to make it clear how talented she was at her craft, and from there, her new students would listen faithfully.

Gretchen was a harder nut to crack; there was no evidence of it in the form of a smirk, but Zelda couldn't have been happier about the greater workload for the evening when she realized that she'd have to break out the big guns.

"I'm glad you're not going for some kind of a witty comeback," the Doberman continued, as her grip finally loosened. In a panic, Gretchen placed her paws on either side of her neck and tried to fathom how anyone could muster such a grip with just one paw, but when she turned to her new instructor, she didn't see any pleasure in Zelda's expression. "If you were to do that, I'd just string you up from your collar for the night and enjoy my cognac in the study..."

There was no extra force in Zelda's words, and no more physical assaults from her paws, but there was something unnerving about the way she carried herself. Her demeanor hadn't changed from the nightclub to her residence, and all the while, it didn't seem like she was forcing an attitude.

If anything, she'd been restraining herself at the nightclub, and now that she was at home, she was allowed to reveal just how terrible she could be...but there wasn't some grand gesture to show the difference yet.

As she tried to figure out what the real difference was, Gretchen did her best to ignore the chilling feeling that ran through her body. A glare that carried such fiery intensity shouldn't have been able to freeze her in place, but there she stood, as if her body knew something that her mind refused to accept.

"Keeping your damn mouth shut, then? Smart girl," Zelda murmured. "Perhaps I won't have to throw a muzzle on you after all."

At the moment, their interaction was a lot of give and take, but Zelda was the only one privy to the purpose behind it. She wanted to see where the line was that Gretchen would feel provoked, but it took only one press to the throat to silence her bark.

Whether she had any bite left, Zelda was determined to know...but she could already see a submissive truth coming to the surface of her new student's eyes.

"I might do it anyway; I can already imagine how adorable you would look with your wrists bound up to your chest and your muzzle tied up with a black, lacy bow...but we're not going to be doing any of that in the grand entry. I'm afraid those pleasures, and your next lesson, would only await in the basement."

Gretchen was already terrified of moving any further into the massive home, but the basement was the last place she would have wanted to go.

She could already tell how far Zelda was above her pay grade when she felt her legs moving of their own accord, following the Doberman without being ordered to do so...

**

The front entrance was large enough that a pair of stairways were able to run up either side of the walls, and in the middle, there was a walkway that went under the second floor, leading to a master living room that would fit an average house within its square footage.

Impressive as all of that was, the thing that finally dropped Gretchen's jaw was the pair of doors that were to the right of the living room. One went into an obvious kitchen, but the other, smaller door was the access point to a small lift, just large enough for three or four people to share together.

"You...h-have your own elevator?"

"It still fascinates me that people fail to compliment the rolling staircases in the entrance, or the exquisitely appointed main hall...but when I show people this dinky little elevator, they act like they've never even been in one before."

"I've never been in one inside of a house before."

"Trust me: it isn't any different here than it would be in a hotel," Zelda explained. "The only real difference is that it means I can't go in the basement if the engine decides to quit on me."

Gretchen swallowed back a ball of nerves. "You...y-you mean we could get trapped down here?"

"You're already trapped down here," Zelda reminded her. "The elevator not working has nothing to do with your current predicament, and if that's enough to worry you...I'll have you drinking my cum from a dog bowl within the hour."

She couldn't decide if the threat was more impressive, or the idea that Zelda would be able to generate that much of a mess from squirting alone: the Doberman, it seemed, was multi-faceted in her talents.

Getting lost in that thought was just enough for Gretchen to bounce in place when the lift came down and landed in the basement with less grace than was intended.

"Speaking of degrading people, it would seem that my last lesson for the mechanic didn't take as well as I would have hoped," she groaned, unable to hide the frustration in her voice. "Perhaps next time, when I shove that pipe in his ass, I won't use lube...maybe then my elevator will actually work the way it's supposed to!"

It was a rare moment to see Zelda come unglued, and rarer still for it to happen over something so trivial...but there was a ferocity in her expression that left Gretchen scared literally stiff.

"I don't remember telling you that it was time for a break," Zelda groaned, looking back into the elevator and seeing Gretchen stand there with a bewildered expression. "If you want me to teach you anything other than how hard you can bite a leather strap before it snaps, you'll come kneel before me and start proving your loyalty!"

There was a key for the elevator, and in a way, the area was the most secure in the whole house: without the key upstairs, no one could follow Zelda and Gretchen into the basement. They could trust each other unequivocally and learn each other's bodies in a truly safe environment...

...At least, it was safe for Zelda.

"Three seconds."

Gretchen snapped back to reality and rushed through the doors of the elevator. They closed behind her and narrowly missed snapping on the end of her tail, but the heavy, dull sound of them closing wasn't the spookiest part about the unbelievable basement in front of her.

The multiple bondage racks, open expanses of marble tile, walls covered in leather, cuffs, ropes and chains, and a series of different, eloquently labeled collars were all haunting, to be sure...but standing in the middle of all that was Zelda, stripping herself out of her tight, gripping dress and leaving the top half of her bodice exposed.

Even when she stripped away her modesty, the Doberman didn't show an ounce of vulnerability.

"Out of time, bitch. On your knees."

Gretchen blinked. She'd been so overwhelmed with the atmosphere around her that she didn't give proper credence to the woman who introduced her to it in the first place, and as she'd already learned, disrespecting Zelda in such a way was a mistake that the Doberman simply couldn't ignore.

"I still don't know what makes you think you have the ri-

Pressure against the sides of her neck, just above her collarbone, forced Gretchen down to her knees easily. She sucked in a sharp gasp, but she didn't have a chance to focus on the subtle pain of the disarming attack: her open mouth, ready for a protest, was stuffed with the same thick, lacquered material that she was threatened with before.

As her fangs bit down on it, almost instinctively, she looked up at Zelda with fear swimming in the pool of her glassy eyes.

"You had every opportunity to make this easy on yourself...to learn from me instead of being another target of my teachings."

Target? Gretchen wondered, as her teeth gripped at the leather strap with renewed vigor: she'd find no other form of comfort that evening.

"You see, I live quite the extravagant lifestyle, but I don't like people to believe that I'm eating high off the hog just because my parents had a few extra trust funds lying around. I'm actually quite the enterprising young dominatrix, and like so many others fail to do , I was able to turn my passion into a very profitable business model."

The seemingly infinite darkness that surrounded the basement wouldn't be completely illuminated until Zelda decided that Gretchen was finally ready to begin her training, but she was always glad to introduce a new target to the viewers that were always waiting on her beck and call.

"You've heard of camera services, no doubt," Zelda murmured, as she stepped behind Gretchen and pressed a paw into the back of her head. The kneeling canine barely had a chance to brace herself before her face met with the floor, and in that moment, she felt her backside yanked up by the base of her tail, as unceremoniously as she'd ever been treated. "But those paysites do a disservice to women...making them into slaves for the viewers. In my service, submissive whores like yourself pay for a chance to escape and see others suffer my wrath, instead."

A large screen lit up on the wall, humming to life with the subtle tone of electricity running through it.

"They're all paying to see what I can do when I'm really upset...but because you put me in this mood, there isn't a dollar amount you can name that'll get you out of this predicament."

Gretchen didn't see where the large, knotted toy came from, nor did she know when Zelda had a chance to give it a hint of lubricant. She certainly felt it, however, as the tapered tip, perfectly mimicking a canine cock, spread her folds apart and pumped inside without the kind of warmup she was used to.

"So let this be a lesson to you, Gretchen...and a lesson to all of you at home...why it's in your best interest to just shut your fucking mouth and listen to me when I tell you to do something..."

Zelda stood nude, but proud in front of the screen, knowing that hers was a beauty to be savored. She'd eventually lose it to the ravages of time, and while she had it, she treated it like the power that it was, knowing that men and women alike had fallen before her for the chance to be in her company.

At the heart of the matter, she found Gretchen to be infuriating, but alluring: it was rare for anyone to put up the kind of resistance that she had, but she couldn't let the German Shepherd know how well she'd done by proving so resilient at the start.

If she were actually looking for an apprentice, Zelda would have ended her search right there and then.

Instead, she was looking to see if there was anyone out there that she couldn't break, and in that regard, Gretchen was starting to crumble.

The last thing she was privy to seeing was the shocked, horrified faces of the men and women on the screen as a long, thin strap of black satin wrapped around her eyes. The pressure across the front of her face was just mildly painful; Zelda was entirely too thorough in placing the blindfold on, but she wanted to make sure that Gretchen felt the light fading from the world as the basement grew dimmer.

She didn't see Zelda gathering the paddle, the harness for the dildo, or the stout, ribbed vibrator. She barely felt the Doberman's fingertips stroking down her side as Zelda stepped around her new prey, admiring just how naturally Gretchen arched her lower back and popped her backside in the air.

"A properly submissive pose, just like I thought you would take," Zelda taunted her. "You wear a great set of fangs, Gretchen...but once you peel those back and get to the real meat and bones of who you are, you're just another bitch that will lift her tail for anyone who gives it a tug."

Her last attempt to defy Zelda was to try and flatten that tail over her backside, but she heard the running of a rope and the clamp of a hook: the pain that came next was subtle, as her tail was stretched _just_to the point of discomfort, pointing up to the ceiling at the behest of the pulley system.

"Of course, I'm not going to treat you just like any other bitch...you managed to pique my interest enough to weasel your way into my basement, where so few have been before...and I do take great pride in treating my guests with the honor that they deserve."

To that point, Gretchen had been too nervous to try and speak, and the piece of leather strapped across her tongue precluded her from making clear, proper words.

It did nothing to dull the high-pitched squeal that left her muzzle when the full weight of a paddle came down upon her bare ass: flesh was immediately tingling with fiery nerves, and fur that carried a decent plush to it did nothing to dull the force of the blow.

The paddle rubbed against the spot for a few moments thereafter, keeping Gretchen's nerves ablaze and leaving her to whimper around her leather mouthpiece...but a proper realization dawned on her and left her dipping further into the well of despair.

That was just the start of it, she thought. Everything before this has just been her fucked up version of flirting with me!

Finally arriving at that conclusion didn't help Gretchen in the slightest. Her womanhood was already quivering around the dildo that she'd been stuffed with, and she felt her tailhole clenching as her entire backside seized up for the next blow, but she felt only a tap from the paddle, against her yet untouched cheek.

"Of course...you know that you're not really an _honored_guest, by now. In my experience as a hostess, you only have to treat the honorable and dishonorable the same in front of an audience of your superiors..."

WHAP! The playful tap of the paddle was replaced by another thick, brutal swing, and just as the echo from it faded, another swat landed in the same spot, keeping the pain of the first strike alive and well for the second. Gretchen's ears folded down flat to her head as she trembled in her limited bondage; only her tail was properly locked up, but she didn't dare to try and run away, knowing the pain she'd incur on herself if she did.

A third swat from the paddle went back to the other side, leaving both ends of her ass brutally struck and seared with pain. Under her fur, she knew her flesh was glowing with scarlet tenderness, but she didn't dare to move her paws back, for fear of her tail being yanked harder.

She kept them on the ground in front of her, being obedient without a shackle upon them; Zelda's prophecies were coming true.

"As you may have noticed, I have no superiors...but whether that's fortunate or misfortunate for you, I can't really say. I guess that depends on how much you enjoy being worked within a breath of a pain-fueled orgasm, only to be left hanging at the point of climax."

The threat of such a thing left Gretchen's mind racing: she enjoyed a little pain in the bedroom, and feeling the heavy bite or deep, raking scratch of a passionate lover held a place in her heart.

The undue pressure of a thick, vibrating nub against her tailhole was not the pain she expected to feel, but it didn't hurt, as much as it made her squirm in the one piece of bondage that held her. She wanted to wiggle away, but doing so put a familiar yank on her tail...and drew the opposite effect out of her.

Like a needy bitch, she backed up toward the invading plug, until she could feel the nubs and ridges stretching her asshole from within. There was plenty enough lubrication to avoid an injury, but without any kind of warmup, it was a herculean task to stay put for her new mistress...and she knew that doing so wouldn't prove anything to Zelda.

If there are really people lined up around the block for their shot at this kind of punishment, all I can do is stick it out, she thought. Just let her wear herself out and move on when I get the chance...

The last mistake she'd make that night was in that very thought, underestimating the stamina of a professional dominatrix like Zelda.

"You probably don't realize just how close you are already...I'm sure your mind is reeling from the sting of it all," Zelda suggested, and as Gretchen came to learn, she was usually right. "But you're _dripping_wet back here, so much that the toy is gonna slip out if I don't do something to keep it in place. Now...just how would I go about doing that?"

Getting fucked, quite literally, would be the one solace that Gretchen could take away from the evening. The toy in her womanhood was a long, thick specimen, reminiscent of some of the finest lovers she'd ever known, and she wouldn't be able to deny the beauty of the Doberman if she knelt down behind her and went to work with her hips.

Such a rare beauty as Zelda, however, didn't allow herself to be enjoyed by just anyone, and the push from her palm near the base of the toy was only half of the pleasure Gretchen was after.

"With this, of course," she said, as she picked up the strap for the toy. Rather than wearing it, she pushed it over the back of the dildo until Gretchen felt the knot prying at her lips, but Zelda didn't hesitate when she felt Gretchen's natural resistance.

She just kept pushing, until the wide, realistic bulge popped right into her folds and left her crying out around her leather gag: she wanted to force out a sound of terrible pain, but even before any sound left her muzzle, the wet, messy squelch of the toy revealed just how into the experience Gretchen really was.

Just from that push, Zelda's paws were soaked, and Gretchen's liquid arousal soaked the strap as the Doberman tied it around her inner thighs, making sure it would stay put for the rest of the night.

"Just so you know, there's a whole crowd of people watching you right now, stroking themselves, touching themselves, and thanking whatever god they pray to that they're not in your shoes right now: your torture is their aphrodisiac, and you don't even get to see what you're doing to them," Zelda explained, leaving the German Shepherd with a final, brutal taunt. "All you've done to me is force me to work up a bit of a sweat, so I'm off to a grab a shower...but you're free to go anytime you want."

There was only a ring keeping her tail pulled up high, but she could feel the ethereal mark of bondage on her flesh anywhere that Zelda had touched her. They were all imaginary spots, but even then, they were strong enough forms of bondage that even with her freedom granted...Gretchen couldn't budge an inch.

She was trapped under the weight of her own arousal, hoping and praying that Zelda would take her rightful place behind the strap-on when she returned from her well-deserved shower...