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Obedience Schooled

Chapter 3

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by Guri

Author's Note: This takes place in a “null time" period during the events of the “Human Bitches" series. It should be considered canon, but should not have any effects on the ongoing “Human Bitches" series.

The cocker spaniel, Girl, had provided Sadie with a link.

Sadie Demol had just gotten home from a long day's work, followed by her daily exercise regimen, and had gone straight to her computer at the final end of the day to just unwind and relax a little. No more business e-mails for her, and no more telephones or text messages or…ah, but there was the matter of her personal e-mail account. That, as it turned out, was the one she'd given to Girl as part of signing her daughters up for Spike's training services. Now, as she pulled up the e-mail, she found that there was a link at the top, followed by a rather dry-looking summary of her daughters' progress so far.

The link was labeled, innocuously, “archived training records."

Already, Sadie had enjoyed having the house to herself, without a single trace of her daughters, for almost three days, the third being that day. All that time, they'd been with Spike, going through morph training. After making the arrangements with their school, so that it was clear the girls were being “home-schooled," at least according to all the relevant paperwork, Sadie had more-or-less forgotten her daughters, except as their absence provoked her memories. Now, however, the thought of Savannah, Zoey, and Phoebe came back to Sadie Demol's mind as she looked at the e-mail sent to her by Girl, giving her the opportunity to check on her daughters' progress.

Curious, all thoughts of her casual games forgotten, Sadie decided to see what had happened to her daughters. Almost of its own volition, her mouse slid toward the link…

*

“Rise and shine," called out Girl, her voice far too cheerful for the ordeals of the night before.

“Sink and rust," grumbled Savannah under her breath, though a moment later she hoped she hadn't been heard as Girl slid food trays into slots at the base of each of the kennels in which the three sisters were now being housed.

Apparently the indiscretion had gone unnoticed, or at least was being overlooked, for Savannah found that no retribution was immediately forthcoming. Then again, considering the conditions around this dump, maybe she was already going through what amounted to “punishment." Just living here was a sort of Hell!

Insult and injury had been aplenty for all three sisters throughout the night. That stuff Spike had injected into them, the stuff that was supposed to make them feel like morphs in heat? It worked. Really, really well. This was the sort of deep-seated need that couldn't be answered by simple masturbation; it was a burning as well as an ache, a sort of a hunger that wasn't quite a hunger, but that needed to be filled, now. Truthfully, the experience wasn't anything that humans normally went through, and so there just weren't words for what the girls had to endure.

There also wasn't any relief.

Spike was a cunning trainer, that much was certain. Right before putting them to bed for the night, then locking them into their kennel cages, he'd fitted each of the girls with a pair of mitts, tight-fitting on the inside, smooth but spongy on the outside. Essentially, he'd turned their hands into paws. Except these paws were less than useless for that single most essential activity: making good friends with Rosie Palms.

Normally, Savannah didn't bother to masturbate. She'd always considered herself somehow “above" activities like that, things that tied the “lesser members" of her own species, as well as the sub-animal morphs, to their degenerate, atavistic ancestors. To have the desperate need to get some sort of pleasure was a humbling experience in itself. What was worse, however, was not being able to indulge herself at the time when she needed it most.

Now, breakfast was served, but even then, the psychological torment didn't end. Instead of having their breakfast served on normal dishes with normal silverware, it was served in bowls or just laid right on the tray, and not a single utensil to be seen. Not that silverware would have been much good anyway, since Girl didn't bother to remove the mitts on the three sisters' hands.

At first, Savannah turned up her nose at the food on her tray. She was no animal! But soon, she could hear Zoey, just one kennel over from her, eating her food messily, the sounds at once turning Savannah's stomach, and making it rumble.

Two cages over, Phoebe was doing her best to act the way she was sure her oldest sister would act. Little did she realize, last night, where she'd deliberately resisted touching herself, even a little, her much-adored big sister had tried for the better part of two hours to find some way to build up enough friction with her mitts herself to bring to some sort of an orgasm. The youngest Demol girl, actually, would have been horrified to know that Savannah had eventually resorted to trying to hump her heavily-gushing quim against the bars of the kennel, but had been forced to stop because they were too smooth to provide sufficient friction, and too narrow and tight-spaced to allow her to sink herself down onto them to any significant degree.

Of course, where Savannah was just grumpy due to a lack of sleep and a sense of deep-seated arousal, Phoebe, having avoided any efforts to relieve her pleasure-pressure, was right on the verge of total collapse. Her smooth blonde body was bathed in a sheen of sweat, and her long hair was tangled and disheveled from her constant shifting during the night as she tried – and failed – so many, many times to find some position where she could be comfortable without the constant goad of heat prodding her belly and nethers. Her eyes were wild, bloodshot, and her breath came in short, needy gasps.

All the same, Phoebe clung to her self-image, to her teenage vanity, to her determination not to sink to the level of the beasts that her eldest sister had always abhorred. She was better than that! So fixed was the youngest Demol girl on her goal, that she didn't even really notice the food Girl slid to her. If she had, she might have actively spurned it in the same way Savannah was spurning it two cages over. Right now, however, food was the last thing on her mind.

In the middle, in age as well as cage placement in the kennels, Zoey was also not focused on food, but…well, it was something to do, wasn't it? Something that didn't involve tormenting herself over something she couldn't change right now anyway. Zoey's sisters, older and younger, were more highstrung than she was, more strong-willed and determined to get their way. Normally, these attributes were advantages, because they ensured that Savannah and Phoebe got lots of attention, were always the most popular girls at school, and well-liked by their teachers as well (those that they didn't browbeat into submission, at least). Right now, both of the other girls were discovering that being highstrung also meant they had a much harder time coping with the searing pleasure-agony of a morph's heat.

Zoey, however…well, she'd learned long ago to just roll with the punches that life threw her way. Being the middle child to two very strong-willed sisters, and too often the target of their casual bullying or wheedling, she'd gotten used to things not going the way she wanted them. Enduring the heat of the night before was just one more thing, as was the fact that she had to eat with just her mouth, like an animal. These were just a part of what she had to do to pass through the training required for her future to be assured. Just another set of trials to endure, however she could, until they were all ended.

When Girl came back for the trays, Savannah and Phoebe still hadn't eaten. Taking Zoey's bowl, Girl looked at the other two Demol girls, then shook her head.

“You two really should eat," she said gently. “Spike won't like it if he finds out you're starving yourselves."

The word 'starving' resonated with Phoebe, even through the pink fog of heat and sleep deprivation. She'd heard it used in reference to her more than once. It wasn't like she couldn't eat, though. Just…she didn't want to, that's all.

Anorexia was a dirty word. One Phoebe never used.

“If you're going to keep up your strength today, you really need to get some food in you," Girl coaxed, her voice sweet, motherly. More motherly than their own mother's had ever been, Savannah thought with a sour grimace, right before she opened her mouth.

Girl's eyes widened, her ears perking upward in shock at the words Savannah used on her. The spaniel blinked several times, as though processing such language. Spike never used language like that, not even when he'd been a drill instructor, back in his military days: there were so many better ways to get others to do what you wanted.

“I'm sorry," said Girl, cocking her head to the side as she recovered from the verbal abuse she'd just been given. “But perhaps I didn't hear you right, Savannah. Did you say something to me?"

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Savannah realized that she'd just been given a chance to retract what she'd just said, to avoid the punishment that would surely follow. But she was on the edge of desperate, heat-induced collapse, her emotions as raw as her red-flushed pussy. She didn't care! Instead of apologizing, or playing off her words as a mistake or a slip of the tongue, she repeated them, with emphasis, telling that filthy bitch just where she could go and how she should get there!

“Savannah," came a voice from the doorway, soft, but with a firm core, and the tall, long-legged blonde felt her heart sink into her stomach when she recognized its owner. “Savannah, you should know better than to use language like that."

“It's just words," the human girl nearly snarled as she forced herself to meet and hold the red-eyed gaze of the tattooed and very naked albino standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his broad, muscled chest. “They're the only way I've got to let out what I feel!"

“No," Spike continued calmly, losing some of his street accent as he slowed down his rate of talking. “They're a way to hurt others. You just used them to attack Girl when she was trying to be nice to you. There's a reason I don't like words like that. Several, actually. Words like that are when you're angry, and want to get even madder. They're also used to raise tension levels, to increase the chances of bad things happening, upsetting others, making them less rational. Besides all of that, they cheapen language, and only immature people use words like that without carefully considering their impact. Now, I've just explained why I won't have you using language like you just did. You know now that what you just did was against my rules, and that makes it wrong. Are you going to apologize to Girl?"

Once again, Savannah realized that she was right on the edge, and had been given a lifeline to pull back from that precipice. But…it just wasn't fair! She was here only because she was forced to be here! It wasn't her fault this stupid mutt had stupid rules in his stupid kennels. Those rules were for mutts as stupid as he was! And she told him so. Told him everything she felt. Threw out her words like brickbats, flinging them right in his teeth!

“You can leave at any time," said Spike, his tone as level and slow as before, as though he were speaking to an especially slow learner. “You know that; you're here voluntarily, by contract."

“If I leave, I'll be disinherited!" snapped Savannah right back in return. “Some choice!"

“Sounds like you've gotta make that choice, then," the pitbull rejoined with a shrug. “Then, once you've made it, stick to it. You're still here, so you must wanna get that money bad enough that you're willing to put up with my rules, my way. So that means you'd better start obeying the rules, now." His eyes narrowed. “Let's start with the one about not using human language. Girl was gonna let you get away with some talking – she's way too nice, got too soft a heart to be a good trainer. Now we see where that got us."

“I have a right to talk!" Savannah declared in full defiance, grabbing the bars of her kennel cage. “You can't make me stop!"

“Actually," Spike quipped with a humorless smirk as he turned to open a nearby chest filled with all sorts of strange objects whose purpose none of the girls could hope to divine, “I can. And I'm gonna."

As he said this, Spike bent over to reach into the chest (and despite herself, Savannah couldn't help but follow the perfect curve of his masculine butt, the plump swell of those full testicles…but that had to be the artificial heat talking: she hated morphs!), and then straightened to walk to her cage. Unlatching the door, he reached in with one strong paw, catching hold of her collar and dragging her from the cage despite all her struggles and cries of protest.

Savannah tried to lash out at Spike, to punch him, scratch his eyes, even bite him if she could. But Spike seemed to have expected Savannah's attacks, and easily countered them, twisting one wrist back, then making a figure-four armbar, pressing her cheek to the ground as she screamed in frustration and pain at the lock.

“Don't struggle anymore, Savannah," said Spike calmly as he slowly but steadily increased the pressure on her wrist. “If you keep this up, I might end up breaking something by accident, and I'd hate that as much as you would."

“No you wouldn't!" screamed Savannah, tears flowing down her cheeks, though she did stop struggling. “You don't care! You're just here to humiliate me! To make me like…like one of you animals!"

“Maybe you'll never believe me," said Spike, his voice actually gentle as he slipped an additional, more slender collar beneath the one the blonde girl was already wearing. “But I hope you do one day. Everything I do for any of my pupils, I do for their good. But learning hurts, and sometimes it hurts a lot, especially when there's a long way to go. Now don't talk, or the shock collar I just put on you will really sting."

“Shock col…ah!" Savannah began, only to jerk as an electric tingle shuddered through her whole body.

“It's designed to pick up certain vibrations from the larynx," Spike explained. “Pretty cool bit of tech, I've gotta say. I made the device, and Girl programmed it. It'll only go off when you use human speech. As long as you keep your sounds limited to dog noises, or anything not real words, you should be all right. Bark if you understand."

“Arf," sobbed Savannah, going limp, then slumping to the floor as Spike released her.

“Good," said the pitbull, before he took three more small metal devices from the chest, each looking like a tiny copper cup, two slightly bigger, then smallest not even big enough to fit over a normal person's little finger. Working swiftly, he fit the two bigger cups over Savannah's nipples, and then the smaller one to her clitoris, before she was even aware of what he was doing. Soon she was sporting small bells dangling from her nipples, held in place by gentle pressure clamps, and a small cap over her clitoris and surrounding region. “Those are tied to the shock collar. You're smart enough to guess how much it'll hurt if you don't do as you're told." Then he stroked Savannah's softly-shaking shoulders, his fingers surprisingly skilled at finding all the points of tension that had built up over the restless night. “They can also bring pleasure, though, if you prove you deserve it. Now up," he said, standing and unlatching the other two cage doors, opening them for their occupants. “You've got a big day ahead of you. Your first day of training."

Perhaps Phoebe was expecting something more, well, kinky. After all, Spike obviously had an immensely sexual side to him – I mean, just look at him! – and he had three beautiful girls at his complete disposal. Well, two-and-a-half, Phoebe amended in her mind. After all, Zoey wasn't that good looking, and she had some pretty obvious flab, made all the more obvious now that she was as naked as her sisters, who lacked such grotesque fatty deposits. Though she'd never have admitted it, some pretty perverse fantasies played out in her head as she trailed behind the stocky pitbull, her eyes glued to his hot butt and big, swaying balls. In her mind's eye, the youngest Demoll saw Spike seizing her and her sisters, abusing them, raping them, plundering their helpless young bodies until they were left raw and sobbing and leaking his cum from every hole. Yes, every hole! Phoebe had seen enough porn (illicitly seen when her mother thought she was studying for school) to know what boys wanted. And she knew perfectly well that, with her good looks, boys wanted her. Spike wanted her, just like every boy Phoebe had ever known – or man for that matter, thinking about her teachers – and as the slender blonde's heat-fueled fantasies played out, she knew she was about to be made into the filthy, degraded animal-man's pleasure slave.

Whatever Phoebe might have been expecting, however, she never expected, not even for a moment, what she actually saw as Spike led the three sisters out a side door: a big open-air track, with various weatherproof exercise equipment arranged around its wide, Olympic-sized oval.

“Okay, up on your two feet," Spike urged, giving the leashes he held in one hand a tug to emphasize the point when the girls didn't react immediately. “I'm under contract to make sure you get a proper morph's education, as well as making sure you don't fall behind in your studies in school. The two are almost the same, so your only big adjustment is the discipline training. As you've already seen," he added with a brief glance at Savannah. “Now c'mon, I've done five miles already, so now it's your turn. Once we're done, we'll hit the showers, then hit the books."

Jogging and aerobics, followed by some light weights. Not exactly what Phoebe thought of when she let her imagination run down erotic lines, even if they did do their workouts naked. Even the shower was almost clinical, as Spike briskly hosed the girls down while they were positioned on all-fours, not even touching them, since the water that sprayed from the hose he used was already mixed with soap at first, then ran clear when he rinsed them off afterward after flicking a toggle at the hose's nozzle. Not once did he remove their mitts, but the three glistening girls didn't need them, as it turned out, since a large dryer was set into the floor at one end of the big blank shower area, and all they had to do was crawl onto it, letting their weight cause warm air to waft upward, drying them off in minutes. Girl was kind enough, after everything else was done, to brush out the three girls' hair, until it was glossy and smooth once more.

Not once, during all this time spent buck naked in front of a powerful, dominant, aggressive breeding stud did Spike once lay a finger on any of the Demol sisters. His penis didn't even make an appearance from that full, fat sheath of his, and Phoebe knew it, because she'd had her eyes glued on that big thing almost constantly! He must not be interested in human girls, she eventually decided. After all, if a male like Spike wasn't interested in her, or her big sister Savannah, then he must be only interested in other morphs, or other men.

Then there was classwork, and since they were essentially being homeschooled, that meant that there wasn't any homework – a big plus – but there was a lot more work to be done right there, in the slightly too-warm living room of Spike's house, seated on the floor (Spike wouldn't allow pets on the furniture), with Spike watching over them as they did their typical courseload of the day. Phoebe wasn't sure if she liked the tradeoff, but she guessed there were worse ways to take classes. Now, if only she could concentrate on something besides the furnace between her legs!

Throughout the whole day, that itch had been there, always somewhere in the back of Phoebe's mind. Sure, the exercise to start out the day had helped relieve it a little…but only a little. If anything, the feel of the slightly chilly morning air on her nipples and naked sex had just made the poor girl even more sensitive, her legs more wobbly, until by the end of the run (far less than Spike's alleged five miles), Phoebe was once again bathed in a sheen of sweat, her skin left slick and glistening. Had the youngest Demol been able to pay more attention, she'd probably have noticed that her sisters weren't doing much better, though Zoey seemed to be doing the best of the three, focusing with dogged determination on the track in front of her, and nothing else.

As for the shower, it had been cold! Spike started by spraying the chilly water over the three girls' bare bottoms as they positioned themselves on all-fours on the cool tiles of the shower room. The shock was enough to help Phoebe recover her senses, at least a little, but all the same, when Spike had played that stream of water over her tender, bald nethers, the young teen couldn't resist pushing herself back into it, as though trying to eke was little pleasure she could out of the stimulation.

Spike, however, didn't linger long enough on any one place for Phoebe to have a chance at scratching what had become, once again, an itch rather than a searing furnace. All that day, she'd been forced to use a touch screen to do her coursework, rather than pencil and paper, because Spike wouldn't let the girls take off their mitts. Fortunately, the work had been pretty simple stuff, just the sorts of exercises they'd be expected to do while at school, on a day that didn't take too much lecturing. She'd had to listen to Spike explain what he wanted the girls to do, each getting an individual assignment appropriate to their grade, but aside from a any questions she might have had, and the answers Spike or Girl promptly and efficiently gave, Phoebe was left to her own devices. And hour after hour, the heat started to build, until by the day's end, Phoebe couldn't even focus her eyes on the touchscreen, instead turning her gaze upward whenever she thought she could get away with it, to latch onto Spike's full-looking sheath, with just the barest hint of pink peeking out the top of that…delicious looking pocket of flesh.

Did Phoebe really just think that? Yes, she did. More than that, she could swear she could smell Spike's penis, musky but not at all unpleasant, with a light hint of salt, spice, and sweetness, a complicated aroma, and one that made her mouth water almost as much as…

“You're almost done, Phoebe," said Spike, making the teen jerk back from the edge of daydream. “Just concentrate a little more, and work a little harder. Then I'll give you the chance to earn a reward for all your hard work today."

Gritting her teeth, her cheeks flaming at the thought of what she'd actually been considering, Phoebe threw herself as fully into her coursework as she possibly could. At least, she tried. All the same, her eyes kept going back to those heavy, swaying balls, and that thick, plump sheath, so clearly visible as Spike walked around the room, checking on the work of each girl, so very easily within reach. What would it be like, she wondered idly, to be a real slave? Spike's slave, forced to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Made to bear his puppies like…like…

Like a real morph bitch in heat!

Leaning her back against the couch (which she'd been forced to get off of after she'd seated herself earlier), Savannah wasn't doing much better than Phoebe. Worse in some ways. Where Phoebe only had the prejudices she'd copied from her eldest sister, Savannah had been the one to adopt those prejudices in the first place, because it had been what all the cool kids were doing. If you wanted to be popular, you didn't treat morphs like equals. They were animals, or less than animals, more like robots or mindless automatons, their only purpose to serve the orders of their owners. The rising political movement to give morphs the right to vote was something abhorrent to that upper crust to which Savannah belonged, because it would have robbed them of the one group they could look down upon without being seen as suffering from the sin of racism. After all, being racist was gauche, but in order to be properly elite, you had to look down on somebody. Morphs were still the perfect solution to the problem, as they had been for several generations now.

Despite all her prejudices, however, here Savannah was, in the role of the very creatures she despised most. Whenever Spike or Girl weren't looking, she looked at them, getting hardly any of her daily assignments done despite the many times Spike would touch the top of her head, tilting her eyes back toward the touchscreen. She studied their faces, their manners, especially Spike's. Just like her youngest sister, Savannah looked at Spike's genitals as well, though not with the same drooling fantasies of the short, slim blonde. For Savannah, she recognized Spike's penis as the instrument of her ultimate domination. Once it went inside her, she'd be no better than the morphs she'd despised for so long. When it went inside her.

In the midst of her fevered thoughts, her juices wetting the soft synthweave of the carpet on which she was sitting, Savannah remembered the passages of the documents she'd signed, passages that she'd paid only minimal attention to when she'd first glanced at them, but which now came with crystal clarity to her mind's eye. Her own mother had co-signed the documents, too, documents that quite clearly and legally bound her to Spike as her trainer, her teacher…and her breeder.

That was the big conflict, then, wasn't it? Savannah wanted to continue living her pampered lifestyle. If she was going to do that, she had to pass through this ordeal of being treated as though she were one of the sub-animals. No big deal, right?

Wrong.

Though she didn't spare much of her thoughts for her schoolwork, Savannah was quite intelligent. Right then, almost all of her mind was working over the problem before her, a conundrum she couldn't get around. She'd thought that she'd just have to endure some discomfort, like some of the hazing that went on in school, and which she'd heard happened when you joined some sororities in college. Not a big deal, she'd thought at the time of her signing. Now, however, the memory of everything that she'd signed, and the implications of that signing, came back to her with full force, where before the words of the contract hadn't mattered enough for her to bother reading more than the bullet points.

Savannah was quickly coming to realize, as the throbbing pressure and temperature of her artificially-induced heat continued to build, minute by minute, hour by hour, that if she was going to make it through her present ordeal, it wasn't going to be enough for her to just endure and move on with her life. To make it through successfully, she was actually going to have to make some changes in the way she thought. She was actually going to have to think like, and as much as possible become…a morph. And not just any morph. She was going to have to submit to her role as a morph breeding bitch, a willing slave to the perverse lusts of the alpha male who'd robbed her of the ability to even form coherent human sentences!

During the classes, it was Zoey, the most clear-headed of the three despite her own gradually-building need, who noticed something odd: Spike and Girl seemed to know pretty much everything in the school textbooks. Math, chemistry, physics, English, even the French Phoebe and Savannah were taking, and the Spanish Zoey had been learning until being moved to “morph school" (Spike's accent was pretty bad at times, but Girl's command of the two languages was at the native level). She had some time to think about this oddity during lunch (and at lunch, Spike, she noticed, made sure Phoebe ate every last bite on her plate, ignoring her protests that it would make her fat). Time enough to formulate some questions.

“Spike," Zoey began, after raising her hand near the end of the schoolday, and getting Spike's nod of approval to speak. “Did you go to school?"

“What brings on that question?" Spike questioned in return.

“I've heard that there are morph-only schools that got started pretty recently, but you're too old to have ever been to one of those. Even though you can't have gone to school, and you can't possibly have been to our school to learn our curriculum, you seem to know everything we've been studying. You don't hesitate when you answer questions, for instance. Not even when they're hard ones."

“Huh," Spike grunted, obviously surprised at Zoey's perception. “Complicated question, but I guess there's the short answer and the long answer. The short answer is, I got my schooling in the military, and so did Girl, back when morphs were still a big part of the armed forces. After we both got booted out, we continued to self-educate ourselves. Not hard, really, when you've got the Internet, library access, and enough knowledge already to ask the right questions. The long answer is first generation morphs get a lot of subliminal training when we're in our artificial wombs, and all morphs, civilian and military, get a lot of training after they're decanted to make sure the unconscious stuff we learn there becomes conscious – that it sticks. Because of how much stuff they cram into our brains before we're even 'born,' and because we were designed with brains that pick up information fast and easy, like a child's, we learn really, really fast. Then the gene-tinkers made our brains so our memories work really good, too, so when we learn something, it sticks. Languages are extra easy for us, because our designers made the part of our brains where language is learned so that it's always open, just like a little kid before he's locked onto his native language. With later generation morphs, the subliminal training part isn't there, obviously, but the open minds and high memory retention stay, so it's not too hard to train a morph. Actually, it's a lot faster 'n easier 'n teaching humans: we adapt fast to what's expected of us in our life role. We're just built that way."

“What?" Phoebe quipped snidely, without raising her hand. “You're saying morphs are smarter than humans?" As she spoke, she glanced at her big sister, as though expecting Savannah to back up her incredulity. Savannah, however, grit her teeth and lowered her head. She'd been silent all day, communicating only in writing or, rarely, with questions and answers after Spike temporarily deactivated her undercollar when she raised her hand to get his attention, using the little fob he typically wore on a leather toolbelt around his muscled waist (actually his only clothing).

“Another complicated question," Spike sighed. “I'd say the average morph is smarter than the average human. But we morphs were made artificially, so we don't have the range of variation that natural species, like humans, do. So we don't have as many morph geniuses as there are human geniuses. Morphs also aren't usually that revolutionary in our thinking: we like routine and stability, not adventure and change, which makes us perfect for military duty and other service roles. We'll even put up with a lot of abuse that no self-respecting human would ever endure. On the other hand, there aren't any morphs with major physical or mental disabilities, so I guess it evens out."

“Makes sense," Phobe taunted with a sneer. “I always knew morphs were meant to be slaves."

“No," Spike rejoined, his red eyes narrowing as he turned his full attention on the small-bodied blonde. “Actually, you're the one who's a slave right now. Less than that, actually. See, human have all sorts of rights in this country. Animals have a lot as well. Back in the early days of the United States, it actually wasn't usually legal to kill a slave, even if the law wasn't very good at enforcing itself. But right now, by contract, you three girls are legally keptmorphs for as long as you stay on my property. Anything that happens here, as long as you're wearing my collars, is completely legal. That means you're completely in my power, and completely at my mercy."

Spike let his words hang in the silence that followed, all the better to make sure they sank in completely. Judging from the looks on the three girls' faces, they got the message all right. There was horror – he was expecting that. And there was some defiance from Savannah and Phoebe, which wasn't unusual, especially in trainees as spoiled rotten as those two were. Spike could always tell when the owners of a morph hadn't done a good job raising their keptdog, and in this case, he could tell that Sadie Demol hadn't given her daughters enough discipline while they were in their developmental years. Only barely holding back the curling of his lip as he considered the underlying problem, Spike wished he had Sadie there in her daughters' position, to properly teach her how to apply discipline.

“Right now," Spike continued, looking at the clock on the wall, “your normal school hours are up, but we've still got some time before dinner. That means it's time to begin your training in morph discipline.

“Before we do anything else," Spike continued, “I'm going to set the ground rules. They were all listed in the documents you signed, but I can tell none of you read those thoroughly, or you'd already be well on your way to settling into life around here. The first and most important rule is: my word is law. You eat when I tell you to eat. You sleep when I tell you to sleep. If I tell you to do your schoolwork," he let his pointed gaze linger on Savannah, who did her best to hold up under that accusing gaze, but soon dropped her eyes, knowing she'd failed to do even half of what she'd been assigned that day, “you do your schoolwork. If I say raise your hand before speaking," and now it was Phoebe's turn to squirm under those powerful, dominating eyes, even whimpering softly as she realized there would be a punishment in store for her in the too-near future, “you raise your hand.

“I'm a believer in reinforcement training," came Spike's voice, so casual even as he slowly walked toward Phoebe, who looked up at Spike's approach like the steady tread of doom, her eyes wide and fearstruck like those of a deer caught in headlights. “Rewards for when my trainees do well, and punishment," and now his fingers seized tight hold of Phoebe's long blonde hair, making her cry out in a sharp squeal of fright, “when you disobey."

With Spike standing so very, very close, Phoebe's whole world reeled at the scent of him, filling her senses until she felt as though she were drunk, or at least what she'd heard being drunk was like. And those big, heavy, potent balls…they were right there! No matter how hard she tried to struggle, to resist, the young, petite teen couldn't muster enough will to do more than lift and then clasp her hands like she was saying a prayer, her eyes lifting to meet her…her master's.

For only a moment, Phoebe held that gaze, feeling her heart skip a beat at how utterly, thoroughly dominated she felt right then, with Spike's hand gripping her bottom-length hair so very, very tightly. More than dominated, though – she felt like a slave, Spike's slave, his submissive, meekly-obedient little bitch. She was nothing but a morph, his morph, his property, to do with as he pleased. That was how the world worked, wasn't it? That was where she belonged.

Phoebe felt her cheeks burning with shame at how wet she was right then.

“I'm going to show you three just how much control I have over you right now," Spike kept talking, his free hand reaching to one of the clasps on his belt. “Just to make it clear: as long as you're wearing my collars, you. Are. Mine."

Now Phoebe saw what he was pulling out of the leather pouch next to the control fob for Savannah's shock collar: a pair of scissors.

“No!" gasped Phoebe, her eyes widening in horror. “No, you can't!"

“Your hair is too long," Spike growled, easily bending Phoebe forward, until her cheek was pressed against the carpet, then pressing his knee down just hard enough on her upper back to very effectively pin her in place right where he wanted her: head down, bottom up, her virgin folds almost literally gushing. “Girl had trouble combing it this morning. Since I'm not trusting you girls to shower yourselves without trying to masturbate for a few days longer, longer hair means dirty hair, since I can't do a deep clean as easily. So off it comes."

Phoebe's pleas for mercy were sweet, almost musical, as she begged Spike not to cut her hair. Her sisters watched in silent horror, almost as horrified as though it were their hair about to be chopped, and not their baby sister's. The young teen's entreaties turned incoherent as she felt Spike shift his grip on her hair, choosing the length he wanted, all the while holding her pinned, helpless, and completely at his mercy. With his scent, his sheer presence all around her, even if he hadn't been so very, very much stronger than her, there was no way Phoebe could have resisted Spike, could have had even a chance of fighting him off.

As Phoebe felt the scissors shear through her hair with expect precision, she began to sob loudly, her whole body going limp with despair. Spike had shown her fully what she'd known all along: she was his slave now, body and soul. In the moment of admitting it to herself, Phoebe's whole body shuddered, her flat belly tightening as a small orgasm racked her young body. Small, but somehow far more satisfying than any orgasm she'd ever experienced while pleasuring herself.

“There," said Spike, nodding in satisfaction as he released Phoebe from his grip, and instead began to gently stroke her back, fingers caressing the length of her spine, all the way from the back of her neck down to her small, heart-shaped bottom. “Waist-length hair is much better, don't you agree?"

“Y-yes, master," Phoebe got out in choked sobs, calling Spike by the name he deserved without having to be prompted.

“That's the end of your punishment, Phoebe," said the big pitbull, his voice as soothing as his gentle touch on her trembling, naked flesh. “You made a few mistakes, but you've paid for them. Otherwise, though, you were a very good girl today. And you also, Zoey," he added, looking over at the middle sister. “Come over here, Zoey, and you and Phoebe will get a chance to earn your reward for today."

Still seated on the floor, Savannah did her best to feel disgust and revulsion as she watched Zoey crawl over next to Phoebe, while Spike pulled over a stool and seated himself, his legs splayed wide. In that position, it was impossible to avoid looking at his sac, its goose egg-sized testicles just barely resting against the smooth-polished wood of the stool. All Savannah's efforts to retain her righteous indignation, however, were rapidly thwarted as Spike visibly unclenched a muscle in his taut, washboard abdomen, and almost immediately, the broad, pink head of his penis poked its way into view.

At Spike's feet, Zoey bent and nuzzled her little sister, almost like a true dog, then helped Phoebe rise until both girls were on their knees in front of Spike. Impulsively, Phoebe threw her arms around her sister, hugging her close, still shuddering a little from her recent ordeal. Zoey's hands were soft and gentle on her baby sister's naked back, rubbing the younger girl soothingly until the sobs started to recede. Then Spike's hands reached down, stroking both girls' backs almost like he might have petted a cat. And just like cats, both girls arched their bodies into his touch, even bending forward as those huge palms of his closed around their dainty pink bottoms, making them moan in unison as his fingers dug into their young, supple flesh.

“Kiss each other," said Spike, and both Zoey and Phoebe started a little at what they knew instinctively was a command. Looking at each other with wide eyes, mouths agape, the girls then looked up at Spike. His expression, while gentle, made it clear he meant what he'd said. Now looking at each other, the two girls weren't quite able to meet each others' gazes, their cheeks deeply flushed.

“The pleasure my penis can give you is the best reward you can earn," said Spike, his hands now moving to just below the neck of each kneeling girl, slowly but quite irresistibly pushing them toward each other. “The feeling of my semen splashing deep inside you is the only thing that will truly satisfy your needs. Now, kiss."

The very tips of Zoey's broad, circular nipples just barely touched Phoebe's more conical ones, raspberry meeting strawberry, both so painfully erect they looked almost painful. At the moment of contact, both girls' eyes met once more, and they moved as one, letting Spike's strong, gentle hands guide them into their first kiss. Those strong paws guided the girls to tilt their heads to the sides, their lips parting just a little, almost by instinct, as each sweet Cupid's bow pressed against the other, just a little bit staggered, so Phoebe had her lips closed around Zoey's lower lip, while Zoey nibbled Phoebe's upper lip. That trembling touch of lips was tenuous, and a little awkward. But oh, it felt so good.

Eventually, as the pressure of Spike's hands decreased, the girls parted, each breathing hard, their faces deeply flushed. They'd never felt anything like what they'd just experienced, never even guessed that such feelings could exist. Neither girl had much time to process what they'd just enjoyed, however, as Spike's hands tilted each girl's face slightly upward, toward his own.

Phoebe gaped, her pupils dilated, while Zoey whimpered as Spike's muzzle pressed against her lips. His lips were astonishingly agile, but that wasn't the reason Zoey's whole body started to tremble. What made her eyes roll back into her head was his tongue. Phoebe was paralyzed, rooted to the spot, her flushed cunny almost gushing slick juices, just feeling the waves of raw erotic energy radiating from her older sister and Spike as he plundered her pretty mouth with a feral, savage hunger. He was like a starving beast! Phoebe couldn't hold back a half-fearful, half-needy whimper as Spike broke the kiss, leaving Zoey gasping for breath, her eyes out of focus, only to turn toward the younger girl, almost pouncing on her, even growling softly as he kissed her with feeling, sending so much stimulus into Phoebe's young body, she had to close her eyes just to keep from having her mind completely overwhelmed as that thick, smooth tongue wrapped around her much smaller one, caressing her oral organ in ways that made her head swim.

“Nice little nibbles," growled Spike softly as he ended the kiss, and soon Phoebe was crying out loudly as his hands engulfed her pert, upthrust breasts, mauling them, tugging on them, rolling the nipples this way and that until she was sure she couldn't possibly take anymore. Of course, she was wrong, as Spike began to lash her breasts with his broad tongue, before closing his mouth over first one, then the other breast, suckling and slurping messily, until Phobe's nipples ached, and her cunny was quivering.

Then it was Zoey's turn, as Spike turned himself, one strong hand wrapping around her waist, lifting her up slightly, within easy reach of his greedy mouth. Getting a taste of Phoebe had whetted his appetite for breastflesh, apparently, and Zoey's breasts were a plump and juicy morsel indeed. Though the same size as Savannah's, Zoey's breasts looked bigger because she was shorter, and had an almost perfect spherical shape, a trait she shared with her older sister, and also with her mother. They were also very sensitive, and as Spike began to tug on her nipples with his mouth and his fingers, alternating between the pair, Zoey began a high-pitched whining. That whine turned into a scream, her whole body convulsing, when Spike's sharp teeth bit down on one tender nipple, not breaking the dimpled flesh, but leaving clear red marks as he released his grip…then bit down on the other breast with equal force.

“Now," Spike said as he drew his head back, his hands strong and guiding on each girl's shoulder as he pressed them forward once more. “Kiss."

The sisters were dazed, their heads whirling, and Zoey was especially out of it, drunk on an extended orgasm just from having her breasts played with. All the same, they managed, eventually, to focus their eyes ahead…and saw the proud pink penis Spike had interposed between them.

Zoey hesitated, wavering as the heady, intoxicating scent of Spike's genitals flooded her senses, wearing down the last lingering inhibitions she still had left. Phoebe, however, didn't pause for a moment. Immediately the young teen's lips were wrapped around her side of Spike's glans, wetly kissing and then nibbling the fat mushroom and red crown of his cockhead. His precum leaked copiously, only for Phoebe to lick it up eagerly, not wasting a single drop.

Phoebe's enthusiasm soon reached Zoey, and she joined her sister, resting her mitt-covered hands on Spike's thigh as she got closer to her sister, as well as to Spike, until both girls were greedily licking up and down the whole length of that meaty dogcock, moaning as though they were the ones receiving pleasure from their acts of fellatio. Spike's voice guided them, told them what he wanted, what they should do to bring him the most pleasure, and drunk on pheromones and induced heat and more arousal than any virgin should have to endure, they obeyed without question, without hesitation. Having seen porn, Phoebe was the first to try deep-throating Spike's prick, only to be forced to pull back, coughing, letting Zoey try. After both girls discovered they weren't ready for that level of oral exercise yet, they contented themselves taking turns bobbing their heads on what they could manage in their mouths of Spike's shaft, while the other put her mouth and tongue to work on his heavy, sperm-laden balls.

“That's enough," growled Spike, his voice husky. “You've both earned your reward. Here, Phoebe," he handed the human girl a sizable bottle of water-based lubricant from another of the many pouches on his belt. “Rub this up and down my shaft until it's thoroughly coated. Zoey," Zoey shivered as Spike's red eyes fell on her, “turn around and get on all-fours. It's time you got your first taste of cock."

By this time, Zoey's arousal had long outpaced her nervousness. All night and all day she'd been keeping her focus on other things, avoiding paying attention to her present situation. Now, however, that was impossible, and all her need, long delayed, had finally caught up with her. She was so aroused right then, she couldn't resist the impulse to wiggle her rear back at Spike after she'd obeyed his order, looking over her shoulder to watch as a wide-eyed Phoebe handled the thick bar of the morphmale's erection, her expression making it obvious she wasn't at all sure how she'd managed to fit it into her mouth, let alone how she was going to fit it wherever Spike intended to stick that big thing. When Girl slipped a pillow underneath Zoey, giving her something to rest her weight upon, she hardly even noticed, she was too caught up in watching her sister's and Spike's faces…and Spike's big dick.

“You've done well for your first day of real training," Spike continued, taking the bottle from Phoebe's hand, while using his other to grip her hip, turning her, guiding her down on her knees next to Zoey, to give her a perfect view of all the action. “But you haven't proved you deserve to give me your vaginal virginities. Not just yet. If you can be good for another day or two, however, I'll give you what you need most: a belly full of strong, healthy, beautiful puppies."

Savannah couldn't hold back her horrified gasp at Spike's words, but the sound was drowned out by Zoey's high-pitched moans as Spike coated his hands with the lube, and then began to knead his fingers into her rounded, plump bottom. For her part, Phoebe didn't seem to notice either, as she bit into the mitt on her hand, only slightly muffling the loud whimper drawn from her throat as she watched Spike slip finger after well-lubricated finger into her older sister. He was so slick that Zoey didn't show any sign of discomfort, though she did look very pensive, even as he worked in a third finger and wiggled it around.

“Guide me in, Phoebe," ordered Spike, his face tense as he arched his hips forward. “Set me at your sister's anus, and then watch close: once I'm finished with her, it'll be your turn."

Her whimpers no longer muffled as she handled his shaft with her mitted hands, her heart pounding in her ears as she held Spike nice and steady, while he sidled forward, crouching over Zoey, using one of his own hands to press down on the top of his shaft, his other hand squeezing the girl's bottom tightly, spreading her supple flesh apart. Unable to resist, Phoebe bit her lip as she watched the very tip of Spike's glans prod against Zoey's tiny anal pucker – a perfect bullseye – and then, slowly, so very slowly, spread that tense sphincter open. As her hands were no longer needed, Phoebe slid them between her legs, and groaned in frustration as she found, once again, that the mitts still prevented her from getting enough friction built up to find any satisfaction on her own.

Glancing to the side, Spike saw Phoebe's distress, and flashed her a toothy grin…right before he gave a slight thrust of his hips…and his corona popped inside Zoey's hiney, which closed tightly around the thick, invading member. As the dirty blonde whined at the sensation of fullness, Spike nudged Phoebe's hands aside with one of his own, and began to caress her needy sex with fingers that were more skilled than the young teen could ever have imagined possible. In seconds, she was shuddering her way toward what she knew would be the single most intense orgasm of her life. Just a little more, just the least touch, and she would…no…no!

“Ah!" Phoebe nearly sobbed as Spike withdrew his fingers, going instead to circling the less sensitive regions of her nether parts. “Please! Please, I need…"

“Hush," said Spike, and the word carried all the weight of command. Half-sobbing, Phoebe hushed. After a short while, when the girl had time to cool off a little, Spike's fingers moved inward again, and soon the cycle repeated, with the pitbull working Phoebe right up to the edge, then pulling back just at the last moment. He frequently spent the time not giving her direct stimulation instead working a finger or two into her tiny backside, getting her even more well-lubed and ready than her sister had been.

Speaking of Zoey, she was pawing desperately at the floor, moaning and mewling and wriggling desperately as Spike ground his hips just so, hitting a spot deep inside of her rectum she'd never have imagined existed, not in her wildest fantasies. The sensation was so strange, so unexpected, and yet so intensely pleasurable, a squeak escaped Zoey every time Spike's balls slapped against her juicy quim, her rump tensing around Spike's shaft as she was wracked with a series of tiny orgasms. Rather than providing satisfaction, however, these micro-gasms just seemed to be building Zoey up to something more, something bigger than she'd ever experienced in her entire young life.

Yelping in surprise, Phoebe and Zoey joined their voices together as Spike changed the parameters of the game once more. To begin the sequence, he started by lifting his hand to the back of Phoebe's head, and then pushing her down, almost mashing her face against Zoey's cunny, the position forcing her bottom almost straight up into the air, like a pink, dimpled Valentine.

“Start licking," he ordered, and that's just what Phoebe started to do, too overwhelmed and overwilled by so many denied orgasms to even think about resisting.

The moment Phoebe got to work eating out her sister, Spike stopped being gentle. His hips started to work, harder, faster, until Zoey was clawing at the carpet, wailing at the top of her lungs with each loud slap of those muscular hips against her presented bum. Soon her flesh was turned a bright red, and not just her lower cheeks, but her upper ones as well, as Spike let her have it with a will!

It was too much! It was too much for anyone to endure!

Wailing like a banshee, Zoey gushed slick juices all over her sister's face, her bottom bearing down with all her youthful might on Spike's pistoning penis. With a deep, throaty grunt, Spike started to cum as well, and Zoey couldn't stop her eyes from rolling up into her head at the feeling of so much thick, hot dogcum filling her up. The sensation was so strange, and yet so erotic, it was enough to make her start shuddering again, until she couldn't hold herself up anymore, and simply collapsed onto the pillow beneath her, moaning as Spike pulled out right at the last, spurting the dregs of his orgasm as a cream glaze over her nicely-reddened buns.

While Zoey was still oozing Spike's orgasm from her well-used backside, Spike turned, and seized Phoebe's tiny tushie in both paws. Her problem with eating coupled with extensive exercise made Phoebe a skinny little thing, while genetics had left her with the same fine, petite bone structure as her mother and siblings. Compared to her, Spike was a lumbering brute, a bull about to cram himself right up to the hilt in her delicate china shop of a body. The mental image, rather than deterring Spike, just spurred him onward, his still-rigid prick finding Phoebe's precious pink rosebud…and forcing its way inside!

“Oh!" cried out Phoebe, her expression more than a little comical as her mouth and eyes formed almost perfect 'o's' as she started to realize just how rough a ride she was in for. “OOOOH!"

All the way in, and Spike paused to look down, admiring his handiwork. Now that was one thoroughly stretched little tush! Grinning savagely, showing his teeth, then clenching them against Phoebe's tightness, Spike didn't show her any consideration, didn't take it slow or nice like he'd done with Zoey. Phoebe's body didn't want Spike to be gentle, and as he opened up, his hips making her pert little buns bounce with every hard thrust, little ripples running through her entire body, until her breasts began to bob in time with each loud impact, she began to realize consciously what her body already knew.

By the time Phoebe fully realized what was happening to her, what Spike was doing, it was far too late.

“EEEEEEEEE!" she squealed, almost high-pitched enough to shatter glass. Spike responded by redoubling his efforts, thrusting almost straight down into Phoebe's butt, until her body collapsed to the floor, and he pressed himself flush against her body, his hips working with a desperate, frenzied pace. He was humping her. Rutting her like an animal.

She loved it!

“ROWF!" barked Spike as his orgasm hit him suddenly, almost before he was able to control it. The bark was a deep, booming sound, as powerful as the retort of a rifle, and it shuddered through Phoebe's body as strongly as a thrust of Spike's hips. Jerking, her muscles spasming out of control, especially in her skinny legs, Phoebe bucked and tossed against Spike's muscular body, until he had to hold her down with his powerful hands, pinning her beneath him, making her take his whole load as he came into her, growling and grunting and snarling in her ear, the feral noises only making her orgasmic gyrations even more frenzied each passing second. Until, suddenly, she just collapsed under him, her eyes almost closed, her cheeks flushed, cum leaking copiously down her inner thighs and over her slit from where Spike had planted his own orgasm. She was still conscious, barely, but she wasn't far from the point of total collapse.

The moment passed, Spike suddenly turned incredibly gentle with little Phoebe. Where he'd been gentle with Zoey at the start, and rough at the end, he was the opposite with the youngest Demol sister, very carefully working himself free of her still-clenching body, then letting his shaft slip smoothly back into its sheath.

Savannah sat where she'd been the whole time, horror and arousal and emotions too complex to name playing across her face as Spike's eyes met hers, and he rose to all-fours, crawling toward her. He looked so much like an animal, like some albino Hound of the Baskervilles, that Savannah couldn't hold back a whimper.

“Don't say anything," said Spike, covering Savannah's mouth before she could open it. “The shock collar's still on." He paused there for a long moment, letting Savannah realize what was coming next before he asked the inevitable question. “You know I'm going to have to punish you now, don't you?"

Savannah could only nod, before her face screwed up in defiance. It was his fault she hadn't been able to concentrate! He was the one who'd injected her with that…whatever it was, and reduced her to the level of an animal! She very nearly shoved his hand aside to tell him just what she thought of him and his rules and his training and his system of rewards and punishment. But Spike was faster, and before Savannah could do more than open her mouth as he drew his hand back, he'd pressed a thick ring gag past her lips, then fastened it behind her head.

“That's sized for my penis, Savannah," Spike explained, before giving Girl (a silent observer through most of the events that had taken place, despite having fingered herself to several of her own orgasms while mostly hidden behind the couch) a nod, prompting her to bring him (on very wobbly legs) a bulbous object with a length of furry stuff on the end. It looked sort of like the tail of a rough collie. “This is sized a little smaller, and it's going in your butt. Now hold still…"

Savannah did not hold still, but soon she was squealing through the hole in the middle of the ring gag as the pre-lubed anal plug popped inside with Spike's insistent and very skilled application of force. The dangling bells on her nipple covers dinged forlornly with each of her desperate gyrations to escape the inevitable – all in vain.

Slumping on her face to the ground, her new tail thrust into the air, Savannah sobbed in frustration. Frustration over her loss of empowerment. Over her unfair treatment. Over her inability to have a much-needed orgasm! Try as she might not to show weakness, the long-legged blonde couldn't resist looking up at Spike, unshed tears gleaming in her eyes.

“Shh," said Spike, his strong hand caressing Savannah's back and bottom with surprising gentleness. “It's only for tonight. Tomorrow, if you're good, I'll give you what you need to be complete. I'll even be forgiving of mistakes you might make, as long as you don't hurt Girl again. Tonight, though, you're going to eat dinner in your cage, away from your sisters."

Standing, Spike hooked a leash onto Savannah's collar, and began to lead her, still on all-fours, toward the kennels. Shame flooding her being as she realized how far she'd sunk – she didn't even try to stand up! – Savannah hung her head in shame.

It was going to be a very long night.

*

Sadie gave a soft gasp as her inner folds quivered, her hand jerking away from where she'd been stimulating herself. She was too sensitive now, too on-edge to be touched anymore. Right before her eyes, she'd watched the highlights of her daughters' training that day, edited into almost movie-level perfection. Obviously Girl was an expert at video production. Through it all, she'd endured with them through their pains, and their pleasures, and their anal deflowering…and Savannah's frustration at the end. That frustration continued to linger with the dark-haired woman even as she shut down the video feed, and returned her attention to the documentation of what she'd just seen. Where before the text had been dry and uninteresting, now, with the context of the video, its contents became most interesting indeed.

Adjustment to airborne pheromone content. Neurochemical changes due to artificially-induced estrus response. Concentration and retention. Establishment and acceptance of a system of positive and negative reinforcement. Training subjects' present general acceptance of the established order, and exhibiting trust and submission to their trainer.

Deconstructing what she was reading (for she was sufficiently educated to understand all but the most technical documents), Sadie Demol realized that what she'd seen of the first day was only the tip of the iceberg. The highlights reel, in other words, and that only of a single day. The video she'd watched was there to demonstrate where Spike's training subjects – her daughters! – had been on the first day. Judging from the documentation that followed, their improvement had been very rapid, and by that day, the third of their training, they had apparently started to fall into the routine of their new lives as morphs.

Perhaps some other mothers would have been horrified at what was happening to their daughters. Perhaps those other mothers would have reacted with disgust, or made demands of Spike to cease and desist, or perhaps taken legal action – whatever it took to make the dominant, alpha male stop his indoctrination of the three girls into their new subservient role.

Those other mothers weren't Sadie Demol.

For years now, Sadie had been feeling the loss of her children. All three daughters had been looking less and less to her with each passing day. Even Zoey, the “good girl" of the three, had taken to doing her own thing, and though her own thing had been taking care of the house and doing what she could to keep the peace in the household, all the same, a gap had grown between her and her mother, a gap that Sadie didn't know how to bridge.

With the widening of the gap, Sadie almost felt now that her three daughters were strangers to her, rather than her own flesh and blood. Such an enforced distance, of course, created a strange and volatile mix of emotions within Sadie, emotions that came to the fore at what she'd seen through Girl's shared link. Of course, one of the more powerful emotions was that her heart went out to her daughters. She loved them! She wanted only what was best for them! Seeing them in distress was distressing to Sadie, and she wanted to help them in any way possible.

With that first emotion, however, came another that immediately tempered her first maternal instincts: her daughters were spoiled brats, and they needed to be put in their place. Savannah and Phoebe especially, but even Zoey didn't seem to realize where she belonged in the world, and was simply drifting without purpose or drive, easily dominated by her sisters and made to do pretty much whatever they wanted. Once again, Sadie's maternal instincts kicked in, these of the more far-seeing kind, recognizing that her daughters needed help and – as much as it hurt to admit it to herself – she just couldn't be the one to help them. Spike, however, seemed to be getting results, and what the Demol girls needed right then was results if they were going to be brought back from the dark place to which they'd taken themselves while Sadie had been busy managing the family finances.

A third set of emotions, however, was almost as strong as the first two. This third response recognized that Sadie's daughters were beautiful young women. More, it also recognized that Spike was a very attractive male (Sadie stopped just short of thinking of him as a “man," even in her mind). Though Sadie was a little ashamed to admit it to herself, she'd enjoyed watching Spike at work on the three girls in his charge. Seeing the video in an objective fashion, what she'd just watched was intense, and it touched a deep ache somewhere within Sadie that she hadn't realized was there. At least, she hadn't realized it until she'd felt it for herself.

Confused and conflicted, Sadie started to move her mouse to shut down her browser. However, before she'd quite gotten to the edge of her screen, her e-mail program informed her that she had another e-mail. A glance quickly revealed it was from Girl. A click, and another glance, and Sadie knew she had another link to yet another video.

Unable to help herself, unable to even want to try, Sadie bit her lower lip and clicked on the link.