For a second, Dakota thought a bat had gotten into the club. One hell of a bat, with gorgeous white fur…
Part of what disorientated him, besides the black and pink blur he’d seen under the flash of white, was the realisation that the image had been back to front. He’d been looking at whoever it was in a mirror.
Dakota turned on his bar stool, scanning the club’s main floor. Most of the usual crowd in here tonight, performers like him, not civilians. Thank God. Dakota did not need to meet anybody who was still touring clubs and casinos at this time of night. He scratched his numb ass idly, his impressive crotch fluff following the slow arc of his body as he turned to look for whoever owned that gorgeous silhouette he’d just seen.
Finally, he spotted her: a tall, athletic looking Equestrian Pegasus with a mane and tail every colour of the rainbow and a gorgeous cyan coat. All of it squeezed into a tight, shiny black catsuit, with some white and pink fuck-me thigh high boots wrapped around her shapely legs and a pair of matching gloves on her sleek but powerful looking arms. Dakota would’ve sworn the silhouette he’d caught sight of in the mirror had had scalloped batwings, but maybe he’d just been confused? Anyway, with her body and dressed the way she was, he wasn’t about to complain. And that was just from the back.
The poodle finished his drink and hopped off his stool. The bartender didn’t say anything, which was appreciated: the owner of this particular overdone ego palace charged employees for more than one drink but was also enough of an idiot not to count any of that money in his graveyard shift bar staff’s wages, so they didn’t give a shit if you took off without paying. None of the money was going in their pocket. Not a lot was in Dakota’s after a week or two playing floorshow piano for the slavedriver, but he’d needed steady money.
And he had other needs, as did his co-workers, so it wasn’t all bad. Tonight hadn’t been so either really, good set, decent crowd that didn’t heckle him or the dancers, the owner was out of town for mysterious reasons (some of the staff though the guy had mafia connections but Dakota had bounced around enough to recognize a low level minion when he saw one, which was why part of him entertained fantasies about the trip being said minion getting called out for running the club as badly as he did), and he’d just seen a hot dancer he could try to score with.
Or at least he assumed she was a dancer. Had to be some reason she was rocking that outfit besides how sexy she looked in it, right? Maybe not. He could ask her when they were in the sheets, or even just over a drink.
***
Dakota began to suspect the Pegasus might be something else entirely when he realised where she was really going. He’d followed her up some stairs…well, as best he could. She’d spread those wings and flown right up the stairwell, casually stepping onto the guard rail of the top floor. Dakota, intrigued and still horny, had to make do with actually walking all the way up those stairs. When he got to the top and saw the unlocked, half open pair of ostentatious golden doors, he realised she’d snuck into the manager’s office. No way those’d be left open this time of night. Had she picked the lock? Who was this lady?
Carefully, feeling excited even though he knew he really ought to be cautious, Dakota slipped inside. The office was pretty much what he’d expected, a large room the jerk who ran the club had tried desperately to do up like a private penthouse, complete with a lounge and minibar the room wasn’t really big enough for. The Pegasus was standing among a bunch of weird sculptures places in a corner by the manager’s desk, and it took Dekota a second to realise she was working at a wall safe, like something out of a movie.
Her long rainbow tail fell across her ass but moved around so much from her own motions that he kept catching glimpses of it, firm and round in the shiny black material of her catsuit. Suddenly one of her arms moved away from the safe, her tail flicking out of its way as she slapped her left cheek. The light danced across her catsuit, rippling.
“Before you ask, yeah, I work out,” she said smoothly, then turned around and smirked at Dakota, looking him up and down.
“I, uh, I figured,” Dakota said eventually. “You’re…not a dancer, are you?”
The Pegasus laughed and went back to the safe. “That’s kinda flattering, actually! Nah. The jerk who runs this place would say he and I’re in the same line of work, but you can tell I’m way more…high end.” Her tail flicked out of the way of her ass again as she bent over and waggled it at Dakota. He laughed dorkily at the joke.
“So you’re not a cop,” the Pegasus said, turning as she took something out of the safe and, to Dakota’s mild surprise and arousal, slipped it into her cleavage. She was even more beautiful from the front, wearing a large pink heart-shaped breastplate on top of her catsuit, with a beautiful, impish face under her long rainbow mane. She put her hands on her hips, looking like a work of art in her form hugging outfit as she raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
“God no,” Dakota said, stepping into the room. He stopped before he got too close to her. She hadn’t minded him checking out her ass, that was for sure, but she was also breaking into an office. He at least managed to resist the urge to hold out his hand to her. “I’m Dakota. I sort of work here.”
The Pegasus’ beautiful wine-coloured eyes widened a little. “You’re a musician?” she said, a sudden hint of enthusiasm in her voice.
“When I get the work, sure.”
“What kind?”
“Jazz, mostly,” he clarified, proudly.
The Pegasus flapped her wings and was suddenly way closer, making him back up from surprise. She had a huge grin on her face, along with perfect white teeth. “Oh, that’s so awesome, I love jazz! Bit more of a classic rock gal, but there’s something about a good hard bop that just sends me!”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, the rubber of her clothes making stretching noises that sped up Dakota’s pulse rate and the corners of her suit glistening as they bunched slightly.
“You have gotta tell me all about it!” the Pegasus decided and flapped her wings to send herself causally pirouetting across the room. She landed perfectly on the high heel of one of her boots, reaching into one of the desk drawers and pulling out a bottle of something golden brown. She casually walked across the room, beckoning Dakota with a gloved finger to follow her to a chaise longue between two oversized shelves of knickknacks. How classy was the guy who owned this dump? He’d set this up next to his pool table.
“Well, I dunno…” the poodle mumbled, hesitating.
The Pegasus sat down, raising an eyebrow as she poured some of the scotch (or whatever it was) into a tumbler, crossing one of her toned legs over the other. This close Dakota could see how sinewy she was, muscular but lithe, like an athlete. She’d have looked good in a tight sports top and shorts, but her outfit added a strange mix of class and brazenness that made her body stand out as much as her hair. Like she was showing off who she was on the inside on her outside, or something poetic like that.
At the end of the day, which this technically was, she was a gorgeous woman in a skintight outfit offering him a free drink and interested in talking to him about music. What the fuck, Dakota decided, smiling as he took her proffered tumbler and sat down.
***
Their chat was probably only twenty-something minutes, but it was so full of enthusiasm and laughter that Dakota felt like it had lasted for hours. The Pegasus’ name was Rainbow Dash, and her mix of exquisite and down to earth tastes extended far beyond music. Dakota, who’d travelled a fair bit in search of work, was astounded to hear how much of the world she’d been to, what she’d seen and learned there. Despite her tastes Dash wasn’t a snob and from the way she laughed he could tell they shared a certain sense of humour. She was fascinated to hear more about his musical interests and career, sympathetic that there wasn’t as much to the latter.
“So what about you?” the poodle asked, accepting another offer of scotch. “When you’d decide on…?” He gestured to Dash’s catsuit with his glass.
“Long story,” Rainbow smiled. She winked. “I’ll make time to tell you about it.”
“So you’d like to see each other again?”
He’d been totally flirting but was still a bit surprised when she began tracing circles on his chest with a gloved finger. “I come down to this dive to get back what’s mine from one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met and wind up having the first decent conversation I’ve had with another Anthro in months. Hell yeah I wanna meet up again. I see a lot of potential in you, Dakota, and I’m going to help you bring it all to the surface.”
He struggled not to gulp like a complete wuss as he gazed at his reflections in her wine-coloured eyes. Maybe it was the buzz from all this scotch but even though Dash’s eyes were half lidded there was an intense, mesmerizing presence to them. As if they were amber and his sprit was becoming trapped in it. The smell of her perfume and latex mixed with that of the alcohol and swirled around his head.
“I’d like that,” Dakota managed. “A lot.”
He swallowed his drink as Dash grinned at him, trying to keep himself hydrated. The slightly breathless quality to his voice made it sound croaky and cool right now, but he knew without more saliva and catching his breath he’d sound like an idiot soon enough. That was the one thing he never wanted to look like in front of this amazing mare. She was the exact opposite of the prudish, saccharine Equestrians he’d heard about.
“Oh, I know you will,” Dash purred, leaning forward, her catsuit squeaking and one hand sliding onto Dakota’s thigh.
He was surprised by her kiss but returned it, shutting his eyes and enjoying the feel of her wings softly sliding around him as he slipped on arm around her waist. He instinctively groped lower, grateful when her other hand slipping around his wrist was to guide it down past her tail to one of her ass cheeks, encouraging to grope at it.
She pressed herself closer to him, making him fall back gently from her on top of him and the sheer power of another bout of kissing, straddling him, her hand stroking his chest while the one by his thigh crept into his bush and began to gently stroke his cock.
“Mmmm…” Dakota moaned one last time before their lips had to part and they both had to catch their breath. He grinned up at her, stroking her latex clad hips. “Damn, maybe I should thank the asshole who runs this dump.”
Dash tossed her trademark hair out of her face to show it and her swan neck off, grinning back down at him. “Now why would’ja be thinking of that tool when you’re right here with me?”
“’Cause without him I’d never have met you.”
“Smooth!” she giggled and kissed him again. He held her close, alternating his lips with hers and her neck, listening to her gasp gratefully.
“Hope he enjoys…the show.” Dakota trailed off as a realisation crept into the forefront of his mind. “Aww fuck…”
“Eventually,” Dash teased. She scowled slightly as he tried to sit up, which involved both attempting to push her off and an end to touching her. “What’s up?”
“Cameras!” Dakota blurted. “T-they’ll have seen everything! They’ll know we broke in here!”
“Huh?” Dash blinked, then grinned again, stroking his chest. “Awww honey, no! That’s so cute. I disabled the whole system before I came up here. Won’t come back online until morning.”
“…Oh.”
“Yeah, didja think I was gonna crack someone’s safe and not cover my ass?” She pointed across the room at it, Dakota realising it was now shut. He didn’t remember her doing it but to be fair he’d drunk a fair bit of scotch and been distracted by a gorgeous woman in skin-tight latex. “I want that asshole to come in here like nothing’s wrong, check the headlines, then run to that baby and pull it open to realise it’s all over.”
Dakota blinked at the anger on her face. “Whoa. What’d this guy do to you?”
“Stole from me,” Dash seethed. “So I came here to take back what’s mine.”
“I can get behind that,” the poodle assured her, gently stroking her thigh. Dash’s face softened back into the pleased grin he’d come to treasure, and they resumed making out, Dakota enjoying the feeling of her breastplate against his chest and the sound of her wings occasionally flapping in pleasure from his touch. “Heh, gotta remember to catch one of your shows sometime.”
“Mmmm…” Dash finished kissing him, their lips separating with a slight popping sound as she frowned down at him. “My what, sorry?”
“Your shows,” Dakota clarified, goosing her and making her bite her lip in pleasure. “You know, you gigs?”
“Mmm?” Dash asked, even as she put her hands behind her head to mess up her hair and pose for him, still straddling him.
“I mean, if you can hack security cameras your stage effects must be out of this world!”
“I’ve been called that a time or two,” the Pegasus chuckled, running her fingers over his chest as she knelt closer to him. “But sorry babe, still don’t getcha.”
“Well, y’know, the outfit, the camera work, knowing how to get in and out of places, you’re a special effects artist, right?” The Poodle grinned as he stroked her hips. “And a part time dancer, I’m guessing.”
Silence. Dash had gone absolutely still on top of Dakota as he continued to feel her up. Not an unpleasant feeling on his end, but it would be nice if his new partner would go back to all the fun kissing and moaning.
“I’m a thief,” Dash said eventually. She hadn’t stopped playing, in fact she’d only gripped his wrist to move it to a more favourable spot on her body, but there was a flat, cautious tone to her voice.
“Yeah, I know,” Dakota smiled, indicating the safe with his head. “It’s okay, the guy stole from you.”
“No, I mean professionally.” Dash was looking straight down at him. “I’m a professional thief.”
Long pause.
“What?” Dakota asked sitting up. Dash obligingly climbed off him.
“Felt kinda self-explanatory.”
“But I thought you said he stole something from you…?”
“Yeah,” Dash clarified, nodding brightly now he seemed to be getting it. “He promised to split the take if I did him a major solid. I only really wanted one thing from the score, so I even waved my usual fee, and the scumbag went ahead and kept it. So I, y’know, broke in here and stole it back.” She smiled, stroking his chest fluff. “And met you.”
“So…you’re a for-real thief? With guns and mobsters and criminal charges and all that?”
“Sometimes and only if I get caught.”
Another pause.
Dash sighed. “Awww dude, no, nonono, don’t—”
Dakota sprang off the couch and bounded for the door. He yelped as Dash blurred into existence in front of it. How could somebody move so fast?! He spun on his heel, trying to make it to the roof exit, not even thinking of what he’d do up there and with a flying creature on his tail.
He never even made it anyway. With another sigh, Rainbow Dash causally pulled the cord of a nearby lamp out of the wall, twisted it into a lasso with her amazing speed, and hurled it across the room to whip around Dakota’s waist. With a yank backed up by a flap of her powerful wings she dragged the poodle almost entirely back across the room towards her.
Dakota tried to keep his balance, but one misstep and he was falling to his knees, staring at Dash’s long, luscious legs as those white thigh high boots walked towards him.
“What’s the problem?” she sighed as he looked up at her, a look of patience on her face as she put the hand that wasn’t holding his bonds on her hip. Her outfit made it almost impossible to see her as anything other than an BDSM fantasy, but the annoyed look on her face was too mundane.
“I can’t go to jail!” Dakota yelped, writhing in panic.
Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Nobody said ya would.”
“I mean I can’t be a, fuck, what do you call it—”
“An accessory,” Dash said simply, nodding to herself in realisation. “You heard me say I took care of the cameras, right?”
“Well, yeah, but still!”
“Plus, you didn’t bust the safe. I did. You didn’t do anything other than accept a drink and feel me up. All consensual.”
“It’s, I dunno…” Dakota grunted, uselessly struggling against his makeshift bonds. “The principle of the thing! Or something! I can’t be an accessory to a crime!”
“Now there’s an idea,” Dash grinned, and there was a glint in her eyes that made Dakota freeze in place. He watched as she reached into her cleavage, pulling out an ornate looking coin. Her prize from the safe, he realised.
“I swear I won’t tell anyone I saw you?” he tried, grinning nervously up at the Pegasus as she bent down, balancing the coin on the carpet and sending it spinning with a flick of her wrist. His eyes began to track back and forth between the golden blur and the glorious sheen of Dash’s outfit as she straightened back up, looming over him.
“Sure you won’t, babe,” Dash soothed, sitting back on the air somehow and casually crossing one of her booted legs over the other. Dakota realised her wings were gently flapping, allowing her to ‘sit back’ by hovering off the floor. The slow, silent motion of her beautiful cyan wings were an almost perfect match for the still spinning coin, which his eyes kept tracking back to as if magnetized. The glints on the metal and Dash’s latex began to blur in his vision, slowly melting into one. It was fascinating.
“Just sit back and relax,” Dash purred gently. “That’s it. Relax and watch. Watch and listen. Listen and relax. Watch the coin. Listen to my voice. Listen to my voice and watch the coin. Watch the coin and listen to my voice.”
Dakota wanted to ask what the fuck she was doing but it was hard to get the words lined up correctly in his head for some reason. Dash’s soft, sensual voice and the blur of the spinning coin kept working their way into his line of thought, as if they were both gently sliding into his head like mist, obscuring his thoughts, his fear, his everything…
“Listen to my voice,” Dash continued softly, “as I tell ya to relax and watch. Relax and watch. Watch and relax. Relax and listen. Listen and watch. Watch and relax. Relax and listen. Listen to my voice as I tell you to relax and watch and to watch and to relax. It’s all the same, Dakota, just as long as you listen to my voice. Can you still hear me, babe?”
“…Yes…” the poodle managed eventually, his wide eyes fixed completely on the still spinning coin. His struggling had stopped almost five minutes into Dash’s looping mantra.
“Good. Good boy. All ya gotta do is listen and relax and watch and relax. Relax so much that watching become harder and harder and listening becomes easier and easier. Listen and relax. Relax so much that you can’t watch anymore, only listen…”
She smiled as the poodle’s eyes blinked, fluttered, and had to supress a giggle as they closed and he curled in on himself a little. “Very good boy! Good puppy. Can you still hear me?”
“…Yes…”
“That’s great, sweetie,” Dash whispered, sitting down beside him and gently stroking his hair. “Now I want you to listen to this: call me ‘Mistress’, okay? Can you do that for me?”
“…Yes…”
“Yes what?” Dash teased, wagging a gloved finger even though he couldn’t see it. Drama was everything, after all.
“…sorry…yes, Mistress…”
“Good boy!” Dash tenderly scratched under his jaw. “’Cause that’s what I am, your Mistress! And that’s why you listen to me, because I’m your Mistress. And that’s why you obey me, because I’m your Mistress. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“…Yes, Mistress…”
“Gooooood boy,” Dash purred again, stroking him. “Now just relax and listen as your Mistress tells you who you’re gonna be when she wakes you up…”
***
Over the next few weeks those who knew him noticed a low-key change in Dakota. He seemed more…content. Chipper, even! When the inference he’d met some mystery girl entered the conversation they all nodded to themselves and wished him well. That explained everything.
Except his new wardrobe. Or maybe it did. For whatever reason Dakota had developed a predilection for tight, black latex bodysuits with white faux-leather duelling gloves and boots, each with pink trim, and a small pink plastic heart-with-wings symbol on the chest.
Ironically this both increased and decreased his chances of employment: venues that had been nervous about hiring a proudly nudist Anthro were glad to offer space in their musical line ups to someone wearing clothes, but some had strict dress codes. Even the willing employers were slightly worried by the…devotion the Poodle seemed to show to his outfit.
Nevertheless, affordable talent was at a primum, especially during tourist seasons, and it was easy enough to come to a compromise Dakota would often suggest himself: just let him slip a venue’s jacket over his outfit and bingo. Uniform requirement met, the bare minimum anyway.
Places that refused this simple solution, and even high-class ones that accepted, would suffer an expert robbery a few months later. The especially rude ones would be vandalized, any crime connections anonymously leaked to the press.
Because no one was rude to Rainbow Dash’s pet and got away with it.
While Dakota greatly enjoyed this new role in life, he was almost totally unaware of it.
***
“Great set tonight,” the exhausted stage manager smiled at Dakota as the band finished packing up, preparing for their late evening replacements.
“Thanks. I really, really want to keep this job,” the poodle smiled back, winking. He was helping to pack things up since the piano he’d used was the hotel’s, so he had it easy compared to the other musicians and stage hands. He’d always been willing to do people a favour if they needed it but something in the back of his mind had spent the past few months whispering that he should always make a good impression. No one talks to the cops about the guy who always helps them out.
“Any plans for the weekend?” the manager asked as they both headed further backstage, towards the stairwell that would let them back into the lobby.
“Nah, just gonna take it easy, see my lady.”
“Nice. When’s she get in? Could double date.”
“Whenever she wants,” Dakota chuckled. “She always likes to catch up after a long flight.”
The stage manager laughed and waved good bye, wondering what that meant and forgetting all about it by their first drink and sight of their own significant other.
Something buzzed in the pocket of Dakota’s jacket. He pulled out a smart-phone way above what even his changed fortunes should’ve been able to furnish him with and looked at the text. No name. Just two wine-red eye icons, half lidded with long lashes. His lady. His mistress. Despite his mounting excitement he felt a calm settle over him, as if her soft, warm glove was stroking his brain. He opened the message, read a code word that put him deeper into trance, and put his phone back in his pocket, eyes glassy and walking slowly but efficiently to the room number that came with the code word.
On the way he picked up the room’s extra key card, which had been hidden where the text told him it would, entered the suite, and sank both further into trance and to his knees before the bed.
Almost ten minutes later he heard the door unlocking but didn’t look up. He mustn’t look up. Not until he was told.
“Ah, there’s my good boy,” cooed Rainbow Dash, striding across the room and happily sitting on the edge of the bed. She held out the toe of one boot. “Here’s a treat for being right where I want you.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Dakota said simply and started kissing and licking the white leather and pink ceramic. Dash smiled down at him fondly, turning her head to watch the motions of his worship before snapping the wingtips of one of her wings like fingers. Dakota stopped instantly.
“Such a good boy,” Dash sighed happily, leaning down to pet his hair. “Look at me.”
Dakota looked up at his Mistress, breaking into a dozy smile. Dash grinned and giggled like a school girl. She had no trouble being powerful around her pet, but it was hard not to crack up like that, he was just sooooo cute!
“Report,” she commanded. Dakota had fed one of her private accounts a constant stream of security cam placements, floor layouts and guard patrol routes from the first day he’d stated here, but Dash liked to have the information fresh in her head. It kept her professional.
“Security has changed since last week, Mistress,” Dakota reported almost mechanically, stopping his licking to sit back and look up at her. “Extra cameras have been added to the tenth floor ball room and the maintenance corridors on that and the eleventh floor. I have mapped them. The catering staff on floor eleven were complaining about having to share with floor fourteen, so their meeting room is probably the one they’ve turned into a security centre for the operation.”
“Good boy,” Dash cooed, impressed and scratching under his chin. “Do you have a gig tonight?”
“No, Mistress. We had our last set of this week a few hours ago.”
“Awww,” Dash moaned to herself. She loved watching Dakota play, enjoyed the sight of her pet enjoying himself. He worked so hard for her, so loyally, and she loved walking up to him after a good gig and taking him out on the town. She’d been hoping for one of those little dates before the rare item she was targeting would arrive next week. But no biggie.
“So you’re off for the week?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“And you’re sure no one’s seen you casing the joint?”
A slight smirk curved up one side of Dakota’s mouth, even in trance. “No one ever sees me, Mistress. You trained me too well.”
“That I did, my little sleeper agent!” Dash chuckled, leaning in to kiss him. Didn’t even kiss back, such a good, deeply hypnotised boy. She stroked the sides of his face. “Date Night Mode in three…two…one…”
She snapped her fingers right next to his ear. Dakota blinked, registered her, and his face lit up as his tail began to wag furiously. “Mistress! I’ve been hoping you’d turn up for so long…”
“Shh,” Dash soothed, pulling him up onto the bed with her, “I’m here now. Good job. Good puppy.”
“Rrrr…” Dakota shut his eyes briefly as the dual code phrases sank into the pleasure centres of his brain, travelling down his spine, stimulating his body into a growing erection. “Thank you, Mistress…”
“You wanna thank me? Get this breastplate off and unzip me…”
Dash laid back as her pet got to work, curling her booted legs around him, savouring the feel of his arms, the closeness of his body, the feel of his own latex and the flesh underneath. Soon their lips were locked, their tongues dancing, and then, at Dash’s half-command, half-plea Dakota was on top of her, inside, thrusting, making her moan his name in bliss…
Dakota the poodle had, briefly, been a good friend to Rainbow ‘Rouge’ Dash. She didn’t meet many males she gelled with as well as the poodle on a job, and she hadn’t wanted to let that go. And a musician! How cool was that?! Plus, spunk and attitude? Mmmm!~ Sure, there’d been those fussy ethics, but she’d taken care of those. And sure, he was magnificent in the sack. But really? Deep down, even when turning herself into a master thief who dabbled in hypnosis…part of Rainbow Dash had always wanted a dog.
END
