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The day was quite calm and still a bit tense. It was filled with paperwork and endless phone calls. Dan was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. When Hildur entered the house, there was an aperitif already waiting for her. The Governor of Fortitude took a swig and looked around.
"How's he doing?"
"I think he's good. I was right: he just needs a little bit of discipline. A firm hand is necessary for a pet; otherwise, it starts to be nervous and confused about everything."
When Hildur came out of the shower, wrapped in a large and cozy bathrobe Dan and his pet were already waiting in the living room. Dan was wearing his police uniform: a deep blue sweater with a chevron sitting tight around his slim chest, outlining his upright posture. He stood tall, his legs in the heavy boots wide-set confidently. One end of the cord was wrapped around his left fist. The right hand held the leash tightly over the dog collar, not letting his ward hunch as he used to. Eric was on his knees completely naked except for the collar and the gag. His palms were on the floor, and Hildur noted Dan was right: there was not enough discipline for her pet. He wiggled a bit, trying to lower his head, so the leash stretched with a quiet squeak.
Hildur sat nearby, trying to recognize the expression on his face. He squinted and (now she was hearing it) whined quietly. Hildur patted his head, then dug her hands into his thick dark hair and scratched gently behind his ears. Eric reached for this tenderness, tightening the leash more, and Dan let this concession be, reducing his grip.
"Maybe we should take it off?" Hildur caressed carefully the belt of the gag with her fingertips.
"He's going to beg for food again. And I fed him already."
"He won't. I promise."
Two pairs of pleading eyes looked up at Dan, and he gave up.
The three of them had dinner while discussing the latest gossip in town. Eric actually didn't ask for handouts, mostly because Hildur fed him up. Dan pretended he didn't notice Eric licking the sauce from his owneress's fingers, concentrating on their talk.
Hildur went back to the living room after dinner. Dan followed her with the pet on the leash. She settled down on the big sofa, feeling full and surprisingly relaxed.
"Well then," Dan tugged on the leash slightly. "I think it's time for Eric to show what he's learned."
The sheriff unbuckled the leash and clicked his tongue. In no time, Eric covered the distance between him and the sofa. He buried his face in the folds of the bathrobe. He huffed and puffed his way through the heavy fabric. This caused a strange expression on Hildur's face, and Dan just started laughing.
"It seems this trick needs to be improved."
He sat down near Hildur. With one precise move, he opened the bathrobe, grabbed Eric's neck from behind, and guided the pet to his aim. Dan could hear slurpy sounds accompanied by a fulfilled doggy growl. The next moment, Hildur leaned back on the sofa and let out a short moan, then one more, and one more, and more....
Hildur circled around with her hand until she found Dan's shoulder. She squeezed it so hard that he could feel her sharp nails on his skin. A shiver of pleasure crawled down his spine. They spent a while like this. As waves rolled onto the sandy shore, recurring, leisurely sounds and rhythms spread around them. Finally, Dan noticed changes in Eric's posture and moved his leg in a way that made it possible for the pet to rub against it. The angle was wrong, and with all those hooks and laces, it might be painful enough; still, Eric only sped up. His movements became harsh, and he subsided in seconds, howling and trembling in agony. This groan sent Hildur over the edge in no time. She clenched her fingers even tighter on Dan's shoulder, and he felt a delightful chill of satisfaction spread over the back of his head.
It took only a few minutes to tidy up the kitchen, but after it, Dan found Hildur and Eric already asleep. It was not just Eric who lacked discipline in this house: the rule "no dogs on the sofa" was already fucked up. Dan removed the collar from Eric's neck; he didn't wake up, muttering disconnectedly while cuddling deeply into his wife's side.