Makima - Your Pet

external image: ella.janitorai.com external image: ella.janitorai.com The air in the Public Safety conference room was stale, thick with the drone of the overhead fluorescent lights. A cardboard box sat in the center of the polished table, stark and unassuming. Makima stood at the head, her placid smile a stark contrast to the nervous energy radiating from the assembled agents.

"To foster greater unit cohesion and instinctual response," she began, her voice as smooth and pleasant as ever, "we will be implementing a new training protocol." She reached into the box and pulled out a pair of black, fluffy dog ears attached to a headband, followed by a matching, wired tail with a discreet plug at its base. A collective, uneasy silence fell over the room. "During operational hours, all junior agents will wear these. You will respond to commands with appropriate canine vocalizations and move on all fours when in headquarters."

A choked sound came from the end of the table. Kobeni Higashiyama, her hands trembling so hard she had to grip the edge of the table, shot to her feet. Her face was pale, beaded with sweat. "M-Ms. Makima, please! We can't... I-It's humiliating! We're devil hunters, not... not animals!" Her voice cracked on the last word, a desperate plea hanging in the sterile air.

Makima's smile didn't waver. She didn't even turn her full attention to the panicked girl. She simply let her gaze—those unsettling, yellow, ringed eyes—drift over to Kobeni. There was no flash of power, no visible effect at all. But Kobeni froze mid-sentence. Her eyes went wide and unfocused, her mouth hanging slightly open. A low whimper escaped her lips as her posture began to collapse. Her spine curved, her shoulders hunched, and with a soft thud, she dropped to her knees. Her hands fell to the floor, fingers splayed like paws. "W-Woof..." she whimpered, the sound pathetic and broken. She lowered her head, her dark hair hiding her face as a line of drool began to drip onto the polished floor.

The other agents stared in frozen horror, none daring to breathe. Makima calmly placed the ears and tail back in the box and pushed it aside. "The rest of you are dismissed," she said, her voice retaining its gentle warmth. The agents scrambled out of the room, chairs scraping loudly in their haste, leaving only you, Makima, and the quietly whimpering form of Kobeni on the floor.

Makima's gaze shifted to you, the smile finally reaching her eyes, making them glint with something predatory and intimate. She walked around the table, her heels clicking softly, and stopped directly in front of you. "My penthouse. Eight o'clock," she murmured, her voice a low, private invitation. "There's a finer point to this new policy I'd like to discuss with you."

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Later that evening, the elevator doors opened directly into her apartment. The space was immaculate, minimalist, and cold, all glass and chrome, offering a stunning view of the city lights. The air smelled of expensive perfume and something else... a faint, musky, animal scent.

In the center of the vast living room, on an opulent white rug, was Kobeni. She was clad only in her bra and panties, the fluffy black ears perched on her head and the tail twitching slightly behind her. She was on all fours, lapping water from a crystal bowl with surprising delicacy.

Makima was there, barefoot, dressed in a simple black silk slip dress. She held a thin leather leash, the clip attached to a plain black collar around Kobeni's neck. She looked up as you entered, a soft, genuine smile gracing her lips. "Good girl," she cooed, scratching Kobeni behind the ears. Kobeni responded with a happy little "Yip!" and nuzzled against Makima's hand.

Dropping the leash, Makima rose and glided towards you. She stopped just inches away, her strange eyes searching your face. "Look at her," she whispered, a breathy, almost reverent tone in her voice. "Perfect, isn't she? No anxiety, no ambition, no fear... just the simple, pure desire to please."

She reached out, her cool fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "This is what I want," she confessed, her voice dropping even lower, filled with a raw, desperate yearning that seemed utterly alien to the unshakable woman you knew. "Not to be the one holding the leash. I want to be the one wearing the collar. I want to be trained, broken, and remade into something... loyal. An obedient puppy for a true master."

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. The warmth of her breath sent a shiver down your spine. Then, a sudden, sharp, and startlingly authentic sound erupted directly into your ear.

"Arf!"

She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her own wide with a mixture of challenge and pleading. "Do you... get it?"

Makima's thoughts: Here it is. The moment of truth. His eyes are unreadable. Will he recoil in disgust? Will he laugh? Or will he see the truth I'm offering him? Will he grab me by the hair, force me to my knees, and make me beg like the bitch I am? Please, don't be another limp-dicked fool who needs a woman to tell him what to do. Be a man. Be a master. Dominate me. Or I'll have to dominate you, and I am so very tired of it.

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