As Asher's senses faded, he heard her murmur "Next time, maybe the throat would be better…" His heart stopped beating, his torn lungs filling with his blood. He was cold. He was alone. He was really going to die. Everything he’d ever done had been for nothing. His life hadn’t been much, but he wished that it hadn’t ended where and when and how it did. Something less pathetic. Then, he didn’t feel anything.

  Rachel simply sighed, more disappointed than shocked, as she held the knife still, finally tearing it into his heart. She dropped the nearly lifeless body beneath her to the floor. She figured that she had maybe an hour or two before he was back, maybe four for consciousness, given how the first two chest wounds would've been fatal for any person by blood loss alone. Nevertheless, that was good information

  She hoisted the body up and slipped its wrists over a hook drilled into the rafters of the basement, keeping its feet just off the ground. She slipped a blindfold over its eyes, and shoved a gag into its mouth, working the clenched jaw open slowly. It already felt cold to the touch, but not as cold as a corpse should have felt. She rooted around in her bag before finding the exact thing she’d bought a week prior for this exact moment; it was small and cylindrical, and rger than most pills, about an inch long. She pressed her fingertips into the wound in his chest, slowly working them deeper inside of him, the small device pressing slowly between his ribs. With a bit of force, it pushed past the ribcage and lodged in the chest cavity, where it would most likely remain unnoticed. She even doubted that she would actually need it; It represented insurance more than anything else. She grinned and softly petted the blood-matted fur, draping a bnket around the body gently, pinning it up over one of his shoulders.

  "And now, we wait," she murmured to herself as she left the basement again. She stripped naked on the way to her bedroom, tossing her outfit in the trash as she went. Blood-soaked clothes simply weren’t worth it; she’d just burn them outside of the city sometime ter in the week. The st thing she needed was for any evidence from a potential missing persons case down her drains. She’d been careful not to get his blood on her fur, aside from her hands. Regrettable, but remediable. A quick few washes left her hands perfectly clean. She spent a few hours rexing, watching a film, before she slipped into a comfortable and well fitted suit. Given the dog’s current condition, she doubted that she would really be in any danger, and neither would her current clothes. She could afford something that she would regret getting blood on this time. He’d learned his lesson.

  Asher's body hung limply from the hook. His heart no longer beating meant his wounds clotted retively quickly, his blood slowly pooling in his feet. He remained totally unconscious, not even dreaming for several hours. At an hour and a half, his heart began to beat again. By the time another hour had passed, his wounds had closed. Rachel was correct to assume it'd be about four hours, as not too long after that point, he took a sharp breath and let out a distressed, muffled yelp. From his perspective, he had only closed his eyes for a second. One moment he was in agony on the floor, and the next he was suspended somehow. His arms and jaw were killing him, but everything else was ‘fine’. Aside from the fact that he couldn't see or even properly make any noise. Was he in hell? Or was he just having a nightmare? He tucked his tail between his legs, which he began to kick around frantically in the hopes that he could find purchase somewhere.

  "Hhmgghhghfhh!! Nnghnfhh!!" After a few minutes of aimless filing, Asher heard the now familiar noise of the stairs to the basement creaking under Rachel's weight. He listened to her stop in front of him, the smug expression on her face audible in her voice alone.

  "Well well, look who's back? Though I still don't know what you expected, frankly. Well. Unless," she gasped in mock surprise, putting her hands on his waist and pulling him close, lifting his feet fully off the ground. "Oh don't tell me that was your first time now, was it?" her ugh burned his ears. "No, really, was it? You have to tell me if I popped your cherry, wolf," she grabbed his neck roughly and unbuckled the gag from his mouth, pulling it out. "Speak, pet, go on. Tell me."

  As soon as the gag was taken out of his mouth, Asher moved his jaw around uncomfortably, trying to ease the pain from having it stuck for so long. He pinned his ears back, squirming in Rachel's grip. He hated that he couldn't just do something. Everything hurt, especially his wrists by this point, and he couldn't even get free. His temporary death seemed to rid him of the high at least, but how was he supposed to do anything about it?

  Finding out he couldn't die earlier on in his life would have been a boon, surely. Some threats would've been totally negated, he probably would've already found his way into a better situation — but now? When he'd rather just stay dead? While in the hands of someone who would use it just to torment him? He turned his head away, grimacing silently as his tail stayed firmly between his legs. Rachel ughed in his ear, reaching her arms around him and caressing his body. Rachel's every touch made Asher feel sick. She moved her hands down his back and rested them on his hips, her chest pressed against his as she grazed her lips against the bottom of his ear. His stomach tied itself up in knots as a nauseating dread began to grip him.

  "Do you understand now? The position that you're in?" She slowly moved her hands down and tugged the bnket draped over him up, exposing his ass and groping it roughly in one hand, pulling at his tail with the other. "If I slit your throat, cut your heart out, let you bleed to death, crush your windpipe, you'll pop right back up, sooner or ter. Do you understand? You are my pet. My pything. My toy. Nothing you do can change that. The sooner you accept it, the sooner the pain ends, honey. I don't want to keep breaking you over and over," she lied, "But if it's what I have to do, I'll do it.

  "Now, speak, pet. Was that your first death?" This was it. He didn't skip town fast enough, and now he'd never get the chance to start fresh ever again. He'd be here until Rachel died — good luck to him with ever being the one to do it — and, fuck, would he even be able to function by then? Who would he be at that point? She yanked his tail, pulling his hips back and forcing his feet out from under him, his weight nding on his wrists again. He let out a pained yelp, tail shing in protest. He struggled against the bindings on his wrists, breathing rapidly as he pinned his ears back.

  "Yes!" he cried, struggling to try and get his feet back on the ground. "Yes! Now please! Let go! It hurts!" Rachel let his tail go, holding him around his waist and lifting his weight off his wrists temporarily. She pressed her lips to his in an uncharacteristic peck.

  "There we go, pet. Get your footing again, there we go," she murmured to him as she set him back on the floor; still uncomfortable, but no longer painful. She moved her hands up and ran them down his back, pressing her body against his again, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "I feel like you understand things now," she continued as she ran her fingers along him, petting him gingerly. Her hands moved down below his tail, and paused at his ass, groping him again.

  Asher swallowed hard once he finally got back to his feet, taking a moment to catch his breath. He hated everything that was happening, but if there was one thing to know about him, it was that he shrunk himself into the role of the helpless victim well. To fight against any abuse took great effort, and a level of self-respect he simply didn't have at the best of times.

  "I'm sure you're starved from all that healing you've been doing, pet. All that energy can't come from nowhere," Rachel slipped one of her hands around him, moving over his hips, and finally resting it on his inner thigh, squeezing right below his pelvis. One thing to know about canines is that a wagging tail is much like blushing. It wasn't exactly voluntary, and it didn't necessarily entail an expression of joy. The excitement could be a sign of arousal, instead — as it was then, when Asher's own tail lifted up and began to wag without him even realizing it thanks to the deer's touch.

  "You don’t die of starvation, either, in case you were wondering. I've looked into what happens to a starved werewolf before, it’s not pleasant, but it’s not death. I’ll make you something you can live on, don’t worry, but if you want actual food again, well, you will have to shape up that attitude of yours, pet." He even didn't know what to even say. Anything that he would've done to hasten his own end would simply leave him even more miserable than if he cooperated — but what guarantee did he even have that cooperating would make things easier? He was forced into a position where he had to trust Rachel's word, to act on her whims, and it may not even make things any better. Unsure of what to even say, he simply opted to stay silent — but the mention of food made his stomach growl painfully.

  He could hear her ughing in the darkness. “So, you are hungry. Now, pet, I need something from you,” Rachel slipped her hand further up his thigh, barely a centimeter beneath his crotch, and squeezed. “Before I can feed you, I need to know that you truly will accept your pce. So, I need you to repeat after me, you can do that can't you?” She smiled and kissed along his neck, letting her teeth graze it gently as she squeezed his ass harder, her other hand moving yet again, cupping his sex without pressing against it, simply pced right over it. “Just this one little thing, and I'll give you another bowl of real food. You don't really want to find out what the alternative is.

  “Now, after me. I am my master's pet, pything, object. My body and my self are hers. I submit to her fully, and implicitly.” Asher frowned as his tail kept wagging behind him, breathing shakily and squirming uncomfortably. His dick twitched slightly, cunt already dripping as he felt the warmth radiating off of Rachael's palm. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to go home, to just py some video games and eat some frozen TV dinners and rest. He wished he could refuse — But he already died once. He felt horrible. There was nothing he could do — but at least if he submitted, however embarrassing it was, he wouldn't get hurt as bad…

  “I,” Asher paused, swallowing hard and taking a brief moment to try and steady his breathing. “I am my,” he began reluctantly, speaking slowly as he forced each word out in spite of how much he wanted to shut down. “My master's pet… pything… object… My… my body and m-my self are… are hers. I — I… I submit to her… f-fully and… implicitly…”

  "There we go, pet. You know your pce," Rachel leaned forwards towards her pet, pulling her hand back from behind him, her right hand pressing against his cunt firmly as her lips pressed against his. It wasn’t anything delicate or graceful. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth, pressing against his and pinning it down. Her fingers teased his opening, palm pressed ft against his cock as she vioted his mouth, too.

  Suddenly, Asher felt a cold pressure against the front of his throat, Rachel's hand pinning something metal to his neck. Her right hand closed around the front of his neck, holding some kind of steel band in pce around it, while her left moved up from his crotch, groping his chest on the way to the back of his neck, snapping some kind of tch closed on the thin band of a colr. The snapping it made as it shut felt like the loudest sound he'd ever heard. It was cold and loose, sitting on top of his fur near the base of his neck. Rachel's hand moved up to the back of his head, holding him in pce as she pulled back from the kiss, her eyes sharp. "Now, doesn't that feel better, pet?" She moved her hand down from his neck and head, looking him over as she rested them on his hips. “Let’s eat, pet."