Monday, May 28, 2012
Back to School
“All right, class.” Mrs. Murphy clapped her hands smartly. The dozen dog owners brought their pets to heel and formed a line in front of the instructor. The dogs, far more informal, sat, scratched, tugged on leashes, lolled tongues, tried to sniff each other, and, in one unfortunate case—
“Miss,” the instructor said icily. “Please control your—” She hesitated to call that giant, wolfish thing a dog. “Animal,” she finished.
“Yes, ma’am.” Ziva tugged sharply on the leash. Nick, the bastard, went right on enthusiastically licking his balls. Ziva nudged him with her foot. “Quit it,” she muttered, “or we’re out of here.”
Nick left off his last-minute wash and got up. He shook himself and peered up at her with bright yellow eyes and a hanging tongue. Ziva studiously focused on the instructor.
Of all the stupid kinks to indulge her twisted mate in. As if the desks and the rulers and the schoolteacher outfits weren’t bad enough. Watching a dog obedience trial on TV had sparked this latest fetish. For an alpha, Nick seemed hell-bent on submission, but only on certain terms.
As long as he submitted only to her, maybe she shouldn’t complain.
She spared a quick glance at her fellow students. There seemed to be an even mix of young and adult dog owners looking for help in training their pets. All were human. She and Nick were the only shifters in the class, and probably the only ones here for the discipline aspect. Nick had picked out the choke-chain collar himself.
Lessons began with “sit.” “Keep the dog’s head raised and press down firmly on the hindquarters,” Mrs. Murphy ordered. The class followed instructions with varying degrees of success. Most of the dogs caught on after a couple of tries, and eventually the line achieved uniformity.
Except, of course, for Nick. He locked his hips and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard Ziva yanked on his leash and shoved at his butt. The son of a hound. She knew what he wanted. Ziva drew her hidden ruler out of her blouse and whacked him smartly on the butt. Nick promptly sat. He just as promptly bounced back up again. “You want it, don’t you, you dirty dog?” Ziva murmured, and paddled him again. This time Nick stayed sitting. His tongue hung out of the side of his muzzle.
“A-hem.” Ziva looked up into Mrs. Murphy’s frigid glare. “We do not strike our pets,” the woman said. “Gentle, firm and loving. These are the keys to obedience.”
“He’s fine with it. He likes it rough.”
“I do not tolerate abuse in my class,” Mrs. Murphy said. She snatched the ruler from Ziva.
Instantly Nick lunged for the ruler. His jaws yanked the ruler from the instructor’s hands. Mrs. Murphy sprang back with a shriek. Nick growled with the ruler clamped between his wicked teeth.
“Better let him keep it,” Ziva advised. “He likes his wood.”
The teenager with the pit bull two students down snickered. “Wood.”
The instructor composed herself with an effort. “You will control your animal, or leave.”
Ziva smiled sweetly. “That’s what we’re here for.” She tugged the ruler out of Nick’s mouth. He gave it up reluctantly. It was drenched in slobber. Ziva made a face at it. Nick flashed a wolfish grin.
Next up, heeling. Mrs. Murphy had her students parade their pets around the high school gym. Ziva held the leash like a show-dog lead, keeping the leash and the collar as tight as Nick could stand. With her other hand she tapped the ruler against her thigh. Nick kept an eagle eye on both the thigh and the ruler.
This wasn’t half bad, Ziva decided. She held the business end of the leash. She held the ruler. She was in charge. The thought sent a tingle through her alpha nethers. When Nick veered off course she jerked him back viciously and growled at him. Several owners and all the dogs looked around.
The teenager with the pit bull snickered loudly. “Your dog’s got a red rocket.”
Ziva glanced down. Scat on a cracker. Nick’s Big Bad Wolf had thrust itself out of its furry den. His eyes had that glint in them that said attack was imminent.
“Miss,” the instructor shrilled, “you’re going to have to remove your animal until he’s calmed down. Dogs cannot learn in a state of excitement.”
I don’t know about that, Ziva thought, Nick and I learn quite a bit when we’re excited. But she trotted the obedient Nick out of the gym.
Under the fluorescents in the hallway Nick’s arousal glistened with scarlet vengeance. Ziva stared at it and licked her lips. He was so huge. A hoarse growl built in her throat, and she tightened her grip on the ruler.
Nick waved his bushy tail. Was I a good boy or wasn’t I?
“Yes,” Ziva panted, “You’re a very good boy. Good boys get rewarded.” She tore at her skirt.
# # #
When the noises in the corridor couldn’t be ignored any longer, Mrs. Murphy marched out to give that irresponsible little snip a piece of her mind. Yanking the poor thing’s neck like that! Hitting him with a ruler! That kind of abusive behavior turned dogs vicious. She probably shouldn’t own a pet at all.
She couldn’t find the bad owner. Instead she found the big wolfish beast humping madly away at a smaller but equally feral-looking bitch, both of them loud and uncaring. The female had the ruler in her mouth.
Mrs. Murphy was an old hand at misbehaving dogs. She grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher. It took three extended, well-aimed shots to separate the beasts from their carnal activity. Covered in foam, they pelted for the exit, woofing all the way. She would have sworn they were laughing.
The rest of the class crowded in the doorway. They’d witnessed most if not all of the ghastly spectacle. The teenager knelt beside his pit bull. Both sets of eyes were huge.
“When do we get to teach our dogs that?” the kid asked hopefully.
# # #
“Look at me!” Ziva complained, shaking foam off her arms. “Not only is my hair a mess, now I’ve lost all my clothes. And I’ll bet my deposit, too. That old biddy will never let me near her or a dog again.”
Nick wiped at the foam on his chest. He was grinning like a psycho. He still wore the collar, and nothing else. “That was so hot. We should have ducked into one of the classrooms. Or found the principal’s office. I’ll bet he’s got one of those big oak desks.”
“No. We’re done. No more collars or leashes or hitting or heeling or all this other crap. Why can’t you just hump my leg like a normal canine?”
“Because you love it, you kinky bitch.” He lunged at her.
Ziva brandished the ruler. “Sit!” Nick skidded to a stop and dropped onto his rump. “Good boy. Now fetch.” Ziva shifted to wolf form and dove for the nearby woods, with Nick in close pursuit.
# # #
Almost forgot to mention: I've sold another M/M story to Siren! Temptation and Tights should be out in August. A superhero and his arch-nemesis fall in love. It's not every day you get to write a romance with a giant robot in it. Reading comic books pays off!