Chapter 3: III. Hound

A bouquet arrived at the halls of residence some days later; delphiniums, agapanthus, lisianthus and, of course, veronica. The card, unsigned, just said “later” and a kiss. I was happy that it wasn’t just a dream, though a part of me had noticed that Mrs Marlinspike had a tendency to be unnecessarily mysterious. 

My mother and Evelyn announced that my birthday present was finally ready, and invited me back to the house that weekend.

They sent a car again; I insisted I would be alright with my broom, but my mother said that while brooms were fine for witch stuff, using them routinely was as bad as using the bus.

We had a light lunch. Mother was still dealing with the fall-out from the hunt. Several witches—possibly her nemesis, Lady Pennelegion—were questioning her leadership, and both solicitors and Border (Magical) Police had gotten involved. They had found no sign of the putative perpetrator; which I was glad about—I had quite liked Wren. 

I tried to make some subtle enquiries about Veronika. My mother just sniffed, and said she had gone travelling. I hid my disappointment. 

After lunch, Genevieve and Evelyn led me down to the basement. I’d never been down here before; the basement was mostly Evelyn’s workshop areas. They brought me to a corridor, all concrete and white paint, and lined with doors. One of the doors had a cheerful bow on it, and “Happy Birthday” written in my step-mother’s untidy hand. Several packages—in cheerful wrapping paper—stood outside it.

“We made a doll for you,” said Evelyn, excitedly.

“A puppy-doll,” said my mother. “So you get used to dealing with them. And, after you graduate, you can start your own pack, or Greengrave sub-pack.” 

“Uh,” I said. Even though when we started heading for the basement, I got a notion of why, it still surprised me.

“Say thank you, dear,” said my mother.

“Thank you,” I murmured. 

“Oh, the other gifts!” said Evelyn.

In a bit of a daze, I opened the gifts. A leash, naturally. A riding crop and a long flogger; “Discipline is important,” said my mother. A small remote control; “It’s already wearing the collar,” said Evelyn. And finally—I shut the box hurriedly; “A strap-on dildo, or ‘strap’,” said my mother, as if discussing the weather. “It is very important for witches who are not naturally accomplished in that department.”

Evelyn nodded at the door handle. I gathered up my half-unwrapped presents in an awkward bundle, and turned the door handle.

The room was small and brightly lit. The puppy-doll was in the corner, facing the wall and whimpering, crying. I dropped the gifts on the floor and closed the door. 

I wished I could call on Veronika for advice. I moved closer. The pup was a little on the small side, and fairly slim. Its ears were down, almost hidden against its wavy, brunette hair. Its tail was beneath it. Evelyn seemed to have kept modification to the original girl fairly simple, limiting herself to ears and tail.

I cautiously touched the top of its head. It flinched, but the whimpering slowed. I stroked its head, and it quieted. 

“There, there,” I said. “It’s okay.”

It turned to look at me, just for a second.

Sophie! It was Sophie, my bully.

I stepped back. It—Sophie—made a happy noise and turned around. It grabbed my legs in a more human than dog movement, and hugged me. I pushed it away, scrambling back. I opened the door and stumbled out into the corridor, slamming the door behind me. 

My mother and Evelyn were walking back toward the stairs, but I caught up with them. 

“That was Sophie,” I said.

“That’s right, Sophie Tallowfield,” said Evelyn. 

“You’re welcome,” said my mother. “No-one picks on a Greengrave.”

“How?” I said.

“Oh, that’s quite tricky,” said my mother, with unusual excitement. “You need at least two companies of solicitors.”

“People can volunteer to be dolls, if anyone wants them,” said Evelyn. “But you can’t pay them—”

“Thanks to that Labour government,” hissed my mother.

“So it’s volunteer only,” finished Evelyn. 

“So, you need one set of solicitors to offer her dollhood, and another to offer to pay her family in the event that something happens to her,” said my mother. “And plenty of legal paperwork to ensure that the two things are not linked.”

“But that was actually step two,” said Evelyn. 

“Right,” said my mother. “Step one was to make sure her mother lost her employment, and couldn’t get another job. A bit of telephoning around for that. It turns out that grinding poverty will persuade anyone.”

“Will she—it—remember?” I asked.

Evelyn shrugged. “If it does, it will be through puppy brain,” she said. 

“Can it speak?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” said Evelyn, with a smile. “But only when they are calm.”

“Oh gosh, Verity, it’s the funniest thing,” said my mother. “When they start talking to you and get upset or angry, and they start growling instead. Which makes them so frustrated, which makes it even less likely they can talk. It’s priceless.”

I stood for a moment, trying to find words.

“Don’t look so surprised, dear,” said my mother. “Just go and have fun. It won’t be the first Greengrave enemy who has ended up in our pack.”

I walked back to the room. Took a deep breath, and opened the door. Sophie jumped to its feet, ran and hugged me. It nuzzled my chest, making joyful sounds, tail wagging furiously. Fawning.

I reached for the bulky electroshock collar to unfasten it, but Sophie went still, rigid almost. Fear? I left the collar in place.

I awkwardly bent, and picked up the leash, clipping it onto the collar. After a short pause, I picked up the gifts as well. I didn’t want to argue with my mother. I led Sophie out of there.

I found them in one of the sitting rooms. Sophie hid behind me.

“I’m going to go home now,” I said, trying to keep my voice pleasant. “Er, thank you for all the gifts.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” said my mother. “But you can use your old room.”

“She wants some privacy, sausage,” said Evelyn. “Away from the ears of her family.”

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“The rooms are quite well soundproofed,” said my mother, obstinately. “And it’s not like we mind whining or howling. But I suppose, if you would prefer, I suppose there is a lot to pay your bully back for. I will ring for the car.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Oh, and have you got another collar? A normal one?” 

My mother looked at me suspiciously. 

“To show it the sort of reward it might get,” I improvised, “if it behaves itself.”

“Of course,” Evelyn said. “I’ll send one out to the car.”

* * *

I sat down on my bed, very stressed out by the day. Sophie sat by my feet, leaning against my legs. I stroked its head; that seemed to relax both of us.

“Do you remember me, Sophie?” I asked. It nodded and kissed me on the knee. “Do you remember the sixth form?” I asked.

There was a pause. With some difficulty, it said, “Kind of.”

Another pause. “We were friends?” it said, uncertain. 

It was my turn to pause. “Yes,” I said, “Yes, that’s right.”

It wagged its tail and hugged my lower legs.

“I’m going to take your collar off,” I said. Sophie immediately whined. I waited again; it looked like it was trying to speak. “Scared without collar,” it said, hoarsely. 

I leaned across and grabbed the regular collar; it was quite thick and made of dark brown leather. “Okay,” I said, “I’m going to replace your collar with this one, alright?”

It nodded, but in the way of something being very brave.

I unfastened the electroshock collar. It started shivering. I put the new collar in place, and the shivering faded. 

“That’s not too tight, is it?” I asked. I paused, as it gathered itself to speak.

“Tighter, please,” it said.

I adjusted the collar in one notch. “Okay?”

Sophie kissed my hands, multiple times. “Lovely,” it said. “Lovely.” And then happy whines.

I was tired. I needed to talk to Veronika, she would know what to do, but I didn’t have any way to contact her.

I told Sophie to stay put and went to the shared kitchen to make us both cheese sandwiches. I took them back to my room; Sophie refused to eat from the table, but sat by my feet and ate quickly. It was just as well; the table wasn’t very big—it was designed for homework, not shared meals.

On the rug, I made Sophie a bed using a spare blanket and some cushions. I went to bed; tomorrow I needed to find solutions. Of course, I lay there exhausted but unsleeping, thinking about things.

I felt the bed creak as Sophie climbed softly over the end of it, by my feet.

“What are you doing, Sophie?” I asked, wearily.

It stopped moving, but didn’t reply.

“You can’t sleep there,” I said. “My feet go all the way to the bottom.”

Again, there was no reply.

I sighed. “You can sleep next to me, if you like.”

Sophie drew back the covers, and fitted itself in, curling its back against me. I put an arm over it and tried to sleep.

And I did drift off; Sophie was warm and comforting. When I came round, my nose was buried in its hair. Sophie made another soft noise; perhaps that was what had awakened me.

I realised that my hand was stroking the puppy-doll; directly on its breast. It felt wonderful; cushioned and soft, the areola raised, the nipple hard. I stopped, drawing my hand back.

“Sorry,” I said.

Sophie grabbed my hand and placed it back on its breast. I was too tired to think about right and wrong; if Sophie wanted it, it must be okay.

I stroked its breast again, listening to its happy noises. I got a bit rougher, pulling the breast, tweaking the nipple. I hoped these were alright; I had little knowledge of people or dolls; I was going on the basis of fantasies, erotic novels and a few times seeing witches and dolls. Sophie’s noises got louder, and I could feel its tail wagging.

I swapped over to its other breast, doing the same thing. Rougher now; it arced its body against mine. It took my hand; I thought to remonstrate with me, but it guided me down to its hip, top of its thigh, then kind of dropped in from an inch above its pseudo-skin. I was nonplussed. It repeated the action, making a low growl.

“Do you… do you want me to spank you?” I asked. I remembered how Sophie had reacted in sixth-form; had I misinterpreted the whole thing?

Sophie nodded urgently. 

I started gently, more of a tap than anything. Sophie flexed its hip towards my hand and nodded again. I slapped again, harder. It made its happy noise again. I brought my hand down again. I was feeling almost nauseous with excitement; my body was burning, especially where I made contact with the doll. I thought about what I had done to sixth-form Sophie. I awkwardly moved my other hand up and grabbed a hank of its hair. Sophie made a pleased sound that faded into a low bark. I spanked again, tugging on its hair.

Sophie was getting breathless now, panting. After a few more slaps, it took my hand again, raising it to its mouth, and peppering it with licks and kisses. My hand felt hot with the act of striking; its tongue and lips were hot too, but the saliva cooled quickly.

Then it lowered my hand again, this time guiding it to between its legs. I ran my hand over its pussy. Sophie rubbed against me, making a quiet, happy but also urgent whine. It was a doll, I thought; it needed to be used. I explored; the rippled lips, the soft furrow, wet and inviting, the firm clitorus emerging from its hood. Sophie turned its head and licked/kissed my upper-arm. With two fingers, I pushed inside it; because of our position, it was almost like touching myself. Well, in some ways; in other ways, really not. Still, I assumed that stuff I liked, Sophie would like as well. I plunged in and out, sensing my own wetness.

I curled my fingers, finding the spot with a slightly different texture. Sophie arced again, making incoherent but readily interpretable noises. With my thumb I tried to rub its clit; although my aim was a little off once she started to orgasm.

It was a long orgasm, or set of orgasms; Sophie jerked, making whines and soft howls, its pussy clamped around my fingers, tail wagging. And eventually it relaxed, although its tail still wagged. 

I rolled away, filled with an urgent need myself. I pulled my hand, still covered with Sophie’s juices, back and started to masturbate.

After a few seconds, Sophie made a surprised bark, and whirled itself up into a kneeling position. It firmly moved my hand away, positioned itself, and lowered its head. The first lick was electric; I arced towards it. It licked deep, its nose grazing my clit. I put a hand in its hair and stroked.

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