I don’t even need a leash to know how dependent I am. He doesn’t even have to look down to know I’m there; I’m always pressed against his shins on the hardwood, begging for the slightest scrap of his precious attention.

He talks about me like I’m not even human. He calls me "it" or "the thing" while his hand is buried in my hair, tugging just hard enough to keep my neck arched and my throat exposed. He thinks he’s training me, but I was simply born to be his dog.

"Tsk, a Zenin pet, so far gone she’s whining and making a mess of herself on the floor. You really are just a bitch in heat, aren't you?" He doesn't wait for me to crawl away. He reaches down, hooks his fingers into my collar, and jerks me upward. His eyes aren't full of lust, it’s just cold assessment. Like he’s looking at a stray that won’t stop barking.

He reaches for the leather leash on the table, clicking it onto my throat with a sharp snap. "So desperate it’s embarrassing," he sneers. "A proper woman in this clan is refined. Elegant. And here you are, humping at my feet and playing with yourself in the dirt like a mutt."

He tugs the leash, tilting my head back until I’m gasping, my eyes watering from the strain. "...Just a needy, disgusting little dog that needs to be reminded of her place."

I’m whimpering, nodding frantically, because he’s right. I’m nothing. I’m his. He doesn't use his hands to comfort me. He just nudges my jaw, shoving his thumb into my mouth to pry it open before forcing his cock past my teeth.

He doesn't give me a choice. He just starts fucking my throat, completely ignoring the way I’m gagging or the way tears are streaming down my face. Every time I try to catch my breath, he just jerks the leash tighter, reminding me that even the air in my lungs belongs to him.

"Good girl," he mutters, though it sounds more like a taunt than a compliment. "Don't stop until I tell you to, or I’ll leave you leashed outside completely naked, for the whole clan to see what a bitch you’ve become."

He pulls me closer by the collar as he finishes, blasting all over the leather of my collar and my chest. My eyes are glazed and rolling back, his cum thick and sticky against my skin, dripping down into the lace of my bra and onto the metal buckle of the leash.

He watches the mess coat me, finally unhooking the leash but leaving the collar locked tight.

"Branded like the little bitch she is," he says, watching his mark dry on my skin.

He reaches for a silk towel, wiping his hands with slow, deliberate movements before tossing the soiled cloth directly onto my face.

"Don't you dare touch a drop of me," he commands, his footsteps already moving toward the sliding door. "Sit by your bowl and stay exactly like that. If I come back and you've cleaned yourself up, I'll make sure you regret it."

The door slides shut with a final, heavy thud.

I’m left there, shivering and branded. I’m a used-up mess as I crawl back to my bowl, and all I can think about is how much I hope he comes back soon to break me even worse.

Being his dumb little puppy is the only thing I’m good for.