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Chapter Text

Derek fades in and out of consciousness for what feels like hours. The last thing that he remembers is panic, so he struggles to bring himself to awareness and take stock of his surroundings. His mind is strangely subdued, like he is under the surface of the lake in the Preserve. He can't see anything, everything is muffled, and he is cold. 

 His eyelids feel so heavy and he feels so tired, that he can't open them and drifts back into coddled nothingness. Even though he is cold, the serene dream-like feeling of being at the lake soothes him and makes him relax into the quietness. His mind floats around, until he is at the lake, racing to the surface's edge with Laura before the each launch themselves in, trying to see who can leap the furthest. When he and Laura come up for air, gasping and laughing, he can tell that something is wrong.  She is right there next to him, saying something to him, and he can't hear her. Suddenly the lack of other sensory feedback is glaringly obvious. He can't smell the water or feel it on his skin. He opens his eyes and realizes he can't see anything. He is blind. He can't hear. He is deaf. 

The realization that he can't see or hear anything sends him to his feet in a powerful leap--or it would have if he didn't get about three feet off of the ground and get closelined by the short chain connecting his neck to the ground. His head snaps to the side as the chain holds and his body crashes back down to the rough concrete forcefully, crushing one of his forearms underneath his own weight. He realizes that he cannot move his arms and that they are tied behind his back at the same time that he realizes that he actually can hear--he can hear himself growling, he can hear his heart beat, and he can hear his own breathing, made fast by uncertainty and pain. The difference is that he can't hear what is outside. He still can't see, but he realizes it is not because he is blind, but because his eyes are covered. From the scratchiness of the fabric and the smell of his own breath held close, he can tell that his head seems to be covered in a thick hood, most likely made out of multiple layers of burlap. He reaches for his wolf and there is an emptiness there that Derek has never felt before.

Stunned and feeling like he is in imminent danger, Derek climbs to his feet more slowly. Standing is difficult with his arms behind his back and his neck tethered a few feet off of the ground. Derek finds that he can stand with his legs straightened only if he bends over to keep his head parallel to the ground, his legs and torso forming a right angle.

Derek leans his body away from the chain, squatting low and bracing his feet, trying to pull the chain out of the ground using leverage from his body weight. He grits his teeth as he puts more of his strength into pulling on the chain, but it hurts his neck and he finds in a squat the chain can easily pull him off balance. He "stands up" at a right angle again and walks straight back from the attachment point, trying not to think about someone watching his feeble attempts. He holds his neck held low and keeps his feet in a wide-based stance as he backs away from the metal attaching the leash directly into the cement. The metal doesn't even sounds like it is straining and he is unable to tap into his wolf's power to really test it. He tries keeping his neck at the perimeter of the circle he can walk in, so that the chain is taut. He lowers himself to the ground again, curling his bare feet into the chain and using the power of his legs to to push at the links. He strains like this for a few minutes, but stops because the chain is cutting into the back of his neck painfully and he realizes that between the chain and his neck, one of them is going to break first and it is not the chain.

After testing the chain, he discovers that as long as he stays low, he is able to crouch awkwardly on the balls of his feet. The chain is short enough that he has to be mindful of it at all times and it keeps him off-balance, and he can't stand upright or get into any sort of a fighting stance. Derek tries to come up with a rudimentary plan for when someone comes into the room--some way to protect himself despite the position he is in, and comes up empty.

Once he has evaluated what he can of his environment, Derek starts thinking about how he is going to get out of here. At first, it doesn't actually bother him that much. He has been in difficult situations before, held hostage before, and the pack has always come through for him. Specifically, Stiles has always come through for him.

Even though it would be more comfortable and practical to sit down, Derek's wolf keeps him crouching, because it's the most mobile and easily defensible position available to him. Time seems to stretch on and on. Derek bounces on the soles of his feet to keep his legs from falling asleep. He was getting tired and he needs to stay awake, stay focused and alert. It's uncomfortable in the hood, because the hood holds stale air close to him and it doesn't feel like he has enough fresh oxygen.

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Derek doesn't know how long he has been crouching awkwardly in the cold, silent room. While he waits--for what he is not sure--he tries to remember exactly where he had been and what he had been doing before he was taken, but he just has vague memories of going out for his morning run.

The absolute stillness and silence of the room around him is agitating. The sound of traffic, background chatter, people's televisions, and music have been constant irritations to him, always something Derek has to filter out. After hours only listening to himself, he feels like he is going crazy. Anxiety has been rolling off of him in waves, and the longer he is here the more worried he gets. The sharp, adrenaline-spiked smell of anxiety is filling up the hood that is covering is face and with each breath, he inhales the scent of himself panicking, which makes him panic more, and the cycle continues.

It is a long time before he can get himself under control again.

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He is exhausted. His calves and thighs are burning from constantly crouching, his stomach is empty, he is so very, very thirsty, and his bladder feels like it is going to burst. Although he is still worried about his situation, he is starting to get pissed. He has been waiting at least two days for someone to come in, gloat, and torture him. They usually want to ask him questions about his pack, his family, or his territory. He has been held against his will multiple times, and he has never had to wait so long in uncertainty. He finds himself wishing that they would just do whatever it is they are going to do already. He wonders if his pack found his attackers and killed them, but can't find him. He wonders if he will starve to death in here. Waiting is getting difficult.

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His bladder situation has been dire for hours. The idea that he might have to go to the bathroom where he is disgusts him, but the possibility is becoming more and more likely with each passing minute.

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Derek distracts himself for hours by making small noises toward different directions in the room. He tries to pick up how big the room might actually be--is it a small room or an amphitheater? Derek can't say for sure with the hood, but the stillness of the air suggests the room is smaller, close to the size of his bedroom in the loft.  

In the room, in the hood, Derek starts to feel claustrophobic. The mental uncertainty of not knowing when, if, someone is coming for him is taking its toll. At the beginning, it was easy for him to imagine Stiles leveraging the door open and falling to his knees infront of Derek, hugging him and telling him 'everything is going to be okay' and he doesn't have to worry about the people who took him anymore. 

The days of silence have pressed a chill into his bones and into his heart, and he knows--knows--that he isn't going to see his pack again. This realization comes in hard, wet sobs, despite the tightness behind his eyes that tells him that he has been without water for too long. 

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All that Derek can think about is that when he meets the people who have imprisoned him, he doesn't want to be covered in his own urine. 

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Eventually, Derek reaches the point where he is going to go, whether he wants to or not. It becomes a matter of time deciding whether he wants to involuntarily pee where he is crouching or stretch to the end of his chain to keep the mess away from the area where he is being kept. He chooses to keep his area as clean as he can and shuffles to as far as his chain will let him go.

Now that he has made the decision to urinate, the humiliation of the act makes it difficult to get started. He crouches there, concentrating, crying and trying to urinate for a while. Snot runs down his face and gets caught at the neck of the hood. He concentrates on tensing his his abdominal muscles and trying to push the urine from his bladder. Eventually, he starts off with a few forced spurts and finally gets to a slow, shy trickle. He can feel the urine hitting the soft, absorbent material on the inside of his sweat pants, and some of it splatters off, hitting him on his upper thighs. His stream strengthens and finally his bladder lets go. He pisses for what feels like minutes, warm liquid snakes around his knee, spiraling downward.

When he is finished, urine pools around his bare feet and his sweatpants wick the moisture up from where the material is touching the ground, soaking the cuffs. The crotch of his sweatpants hangs lower with the added weight of the liquid and one leg of his pants sticks to the inside of his lower thigh, sucking up the fluid from his skin.

Crouching there in a puddle of his own making, it doesn't take long for the acrid stench of urine to filter through his burlap hood. Shame at how disgusting and weak he is hits him hard and the once proud were despairs.

The urine cools on his skin.

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He curls up on the opposite side of his circle, as far away from his waste as he can get. He pulls in on himself, in an uncomfortable approximation of the fetal position with his arms bound. Hours later, Derek's tired body and mind succumb to sleep.

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Derek awakes to a characteristic smell of wolfsbane, metal, and cruelty mixed with the smell of his own piss. Again, he gets to his feet, this time keeping the restrictions of the chain in mind and being careful not to let his bound arms throw him off-balance. His body is stiff and weak from stress, dehydration, and hunger, and it is not as responsive as he would like it to be. In the back of his mind, he notices that he is growling and he fights to make his voice even, despite the fear at the back of his throat. "Gerard."

"Good morning, little puppy." Gerard's voice is surprisingly light and friendly sounding, mimicking the cadence that people use to speak with animals. "Did you have a good night, spending it all by yourself? You were so good, weren't you?" The sound of his voice changes as he turns his head, speaking to the other hunter in the room with a normal tone. "That dog needs someone to take care of it, Daniel. He has to be let out regularly or he's going to keep having accidents. Look at him, covered in his own filth. I want him house-trained by the end of the week. I don't care if you have to get piddle-pads for him, get it done."

Derek's face reddens and for the first time he is grateful for the hood. He doesn't want Gerard knowing how much he hates dog jokes and being treated like a dog, because it would just encourage Argent. "Argent, you're breaking the code." Derek doesn't bother asking why or begging to be released. He won't debase himself that way, especially not with Gerard. He knows that nothing he can say or offer will make Gerard leave him alone. Derek has been tortured by Gerard before, strung up and electrocuted. It was hard enough to escape before, and he knows Gerard is a man who learns from his mistakes.

Gerard keeps talking to Daniel about "training" him, ignoring Derek. He counsels Daniel to "have a strong hand" and that dogs need a real "pack leader." Gerard laughs, "What am I telling all this to you for? You're one of the best dog trainers in the world and you've done a great job with my kennels. I am very invested in this puppy--I think he could be show quality." Derek can hear Gerard patting Daniel on the back before he turns away. "Well, I will leave it to you. And give that dirty dog a bath, will you?"

Daniel waits until the door to the room shuts behind Gerard. He looks down at Derek, hunched on the ground defensively. "Did you hear that, dog? You can't give dogs an inch or they will take a mile." Derek can almost hear Daniel's sly smile before he adds "although sometimes I do like to give my dogs a few inches."

Derek's blood runs cold as swallows and speaks, even though he knows what the likely outcome will be. "Daniel, you're breaking the code. You don't need to do Gerard's dirty work for him. This isn't your fight, you don't have to be involved. Don't let Gerard's sickness ruin your life. Let me go."

Something long, soft and hollow hits Derek's face sharply through the hood before Daniel responds, "Bad dog!" before hitting him on the nose with the rolled-up newspaper again. Daniel laughs sharply at his own actions before commanding Derek to silence. His eyebrows raise when Derek's growl cuts off quickly. "Here, dog." He taps his foot on the ground, waiting for Derek to respond. Derek wars with himself on whether or not to do what Daniel tells him, knowing that the outcome will be the same whether he fights Daniel or not. And part of Derek is embarrassingly drawn to Daniel, after so long in isolation. But still, Derek balks.

Daniel loses his patience with Derek's hesitation and stomps his foot down. His tone is all Alpha, demanding to be obeyed. "Dog, you get over here right now." Even though Derek's wolf feels like it is gone, the tone of voice has him going in Daniel's direction, stopped by his chain radius. He is disappointed in himself for not putting up a fight, but he is so weak and hobbled that any resistance he offered would be pointless, anyway.

"When I say 'Down,' you kneel, dog. And you do it right away." Derek can hear chains moving as Daniel prepares. "Down, dog!" Daniel snaps, using every bit of authority in his voice. Derek drops from his crouch to his knees so quickly that the fabric on on knee of his sweatpants tears when he skids his knees to the cement.

Daniel barks out a sharp laugh before letting out a low whistle and looking greedily at Derek's body. "In my experience, feral dogs usually have a little more pride than you, puppy. You're ready and eager to get to your knees. I'm going to have a lot of fun with you." Derek's face heats up again and he balls his hands into fists, like he used to do when he was a child and still working on control but he doesn't respond. He doesn't want to interact with Daniel more than he has to, and he's more concerned about the way he wants to obey than anything.

Daniel reaches around and quickly fastens something around Derek's neck. Derek can feel dozens of small little pressure points that start burning as soon as they come into contact with his skin and realizes that Daniel has fitted him with a prong collar. The collar must be covered in wolfsbane, because it is painful even without any pressure being applied to it. Daniel releases the padlock that kept the thick chain around his neck.

Even though Derek knows he is at a disadvantage, hooded and his arms tied behind his back, the idea of being unchained from the ground and free after so long is too much of a temptation. He jumps to his feet and bowls into Daniel, catching him completely off guard and taking him down to the ground. Derek has nothing else to attack with but his head, but he is desperate. He headbutts Daniel over and over again, blood splattering onto his face, pinning Daniel down with his body weight and the raw strength of pure fear about what will happen if he doesn't escape. The last headbutt hits Daniel square in the forehead with a crack, sending his head to bounce off of the concrete. Derek tries biting Daniel's shoulder through the burlap, but the layers are so thick that he can't do too much damage with his teeth, just pinching and bruising the skin.

Once Derek realizes that Daniel isn't conscious, he gracelessly struggles to his feet and goes to the area where he heard Gerard leave to find the door. There is a large handle and Derek turns his back to it, trying to pull it open with his bound hands, but it doesn't budge. It's locked.

A high-pitched keening sound escapes Derek's mouth as he sees his window of opportunity closing. He frantically moves about the room, trying to look for any other exits and take stock of the room at the same time. He quickly realizes that there is only one door and that the room doesn't have any other potential exits. In the middle of one of the walls, Derek crashes into a hip-high structure, making a deafeningly loud metallic clatter. He skirts the perimeter of the object, which seems to be a raised metal bin. His bare feet come into contact with cold metal, and he discovers that there are steps up to a hole in the side of the bin. Derek growls when he realizes that it is a metal tub used for dog grooming, to help dog groomers not throw out their backs lifting a big dog into the bathtub or while bending over to wash the dogs.

The only other things that Derek discovers in the room are a floor drain not too far from the raised bathtub and a series of rounded, smooth wooden sticks (likely brooms and mops) hanging on the wall. Derek does not want to think about what other implements could be hanging from the wall that he cannot reach.

Once he understands his surroundings, Derek hovers over Daniel, who is still laying unconscious on the floor, trying to decide if he should kill him. If Daniel wakes up, there is no telling what the consequences will be. Derek curses himself for being the weakest Hale. His mother, Laura, and Cora would have already killed Daniel by now, damn the consequences, but Derek is too scared. He is worried that if he kills Daniel, Gerard will oversee his torture personally, and his skin crawls at the possibility of spending more time with the man. Gerard is a chance he is not willing to take, and something about Daniel's voice calls to him.

Derek backs away from Daniel's prone form, suddenly needing to get as far away as he can. He can't believe what he's done, hurting Daniel. Hurting Daniel will only make his terrible situation infinitely worse.  He barely registers the swinging of a leash hanging unsupported from the prong collar around his neck as his back hits one of the corners of the room. He takes several deep breaths, trying to figure out how he is going to survive Daniel waking up. Derek can only think of one way that might give him a chance to get out of the room--if Daniel thinks he is not a threat. Which, now that he thinks of it, would have been good to realize before attacking him. Derek's whole body begins to tremor as he realizes that he is probably going to die in the next few minutes. He thinks about his dad and how he would want him to do anything and everything he had to to stay alive, even when the stronger Hales would rather die proudly than live to be humiliated.

Derek lowers himself to his knees, before bending his torso over, balancing carefully so that he can bring his forehead to rest on the ground, and waits. The position of supplication is as hard on his body as it is on his mind. After long minutes of waiting, his back is on fire and his arms are shaking, sore and weak from being restrained for so long. When his ears pick up the sounds of Daniel's body coming back to consciousness, he slowly slides his head to the side as far as it will go, baring his neck uncomfortably in a position of utter submission.

Once Daniel's body began to stir, it did not take him long to get to his feet in a wobbly defensive stance, groaning and holding his head while taking in the situation. When he sees Derek lying prostrate in the corner, his body seems to straighten up and a cruel smile twists his lips. More than anger at Derek, he is angry with himself for letting his guard down and letting a stupid dog pull one over on him. If the boys hear about it, he will never live it down. He wants to beat the shit out of his dog, but also enjoys the elegance that comes with breaking dogs in less direct ways.

He wipes the blood of of his face with his forearm while he approaches Derek, coming to a halt with the heel of his foot on Derek's leash. The toe of his boot almost touching Derek's lips as he reaches down and pulls off Derek's hood. Derek blinks hard and focuses on Daniel's shoes, unwilling to look up and risk making eye contact.

Daniel has always believed that people anthropomorphize and talk entirely too much to their dogs. If people make it clear what they want, their dog can usually figure it out, if given enough time. You don't have to ask or convince them to do things if you are a real trainer. You can use your body language to demand. Usually with these big, wild dogs, it takes time and consequences to train them. That's why when Derek's tongue comes out to tentatively kitten lick his boot almost immediately, like the dog wants to say 'sorry,' Daniel gets to half chub in record time. Seeing the magnificent, proud dog settle into its place is a heady experience.

Daniel doesn't say anything or move his boot, wanting to see how sorry the animal really is. After several minutes his entire boot is shiny with spit and he moves it back, only to shift and replace it with his other boot. Derek doesn't disappoint and continues licking Daniel's other boot until it is just as slimy as the first. Daniel lifts up his foot and angles his leg, so that the dirty sole of his boot is right in Derek's face. His dick twitches as Derek continues licking, more strongly now, and lick by lick Derek silently cleans out the tread of his workboot. Daniel can see dirt and brown debris on Derek's tongue as he stiffens it to use the tip of his tongue to get as deep into the tread as he can. Daniel gives him the bottom of his other boot and watches for several more minutes. Derek's ears are a deep shade of red, but there is no other outward sign suggesting that Derek finds his new position as shoe-licker distasteful. He brings his boot down on Derek's tongue, pinching it between his foot and the floor. Derek whines softly but doesn't make any movement to try and get away from Daniel. Daniel laughs and moves his boot.

Crouching down, Daniel picks up Derek's leash and ruffles Derek's short hair in a way that would be friendly under other circumstances. "Well, mutt, let's get you into the bath."

Chapter Text

"Now listen, dog. I've been lenient with you because you must be terrified and it's sad when animals don't understand what's happening to them. I know you freaked out and entered 'Fight or Flight' and did something you would never would have done otherwise." Daniel's voice has an odd lilt to it, like he wholeheartedly believes everything he is saying. "Well, there is a third option: Freeze. And that's the only option you will ever do again. Flight and fight no longer exist for you." He yanks on Derek's leash harshly, sending little stabs of pain from the prongs in the collar and a lot of unpleasant, suffocating pressure. "Watch me, dog." Daniel commands, bringing a finger to gesture with his eyes as one would motion for a dog, while at the same time grabbing Derek's short hair and forcefully bending his head back to a painful angle.

Derek looks up and really sees Daniel for the first time. It's surprising, because his voice and presence are so assertive, but he looks like a regular guy. Someone you would see in the grocery store picking up some last minute supplies for dinner or playing fetch with his dog by the river. You might nod and acknowledge him, but he just looks so average, so harmless, that you wouldn't remember him two minutes later.

Daniel holds Derek's gaze, and emphasizes each word with a harsh tug, bringing the werewolf's neck so far back Derek is afraid it will snap. "You will never attack me again." His voice is like mountain ash, binding Derek and the place inside him where his wolf should be becomes painful with the need to submit. Daniel isn't a wolf and Derek is horrified to realize that right now, his body recognizes Daniel as his alpha.

Daniel leans over and efficiently removes the bindings on Derek's hands and arms, leaving the chains on the ground by his feet. "Okay, get up! Come on, boy!" Daniel's voice pitches up in a twisted parody of someone encouraging their reluctant dog. Derek grits his teeth and slowly puts his hands on the ground and leverages himself into a standing position, twisting his stiff, sore wrists.

Immediately, Derek is smacked so hard across the jaw that he falls back, tasting blood in his mouth. Daniel sounds disappointed when he speaks next "I said get up, not do a trick like 'Stand,' you dumb animal." Derek's face heats as he realizes what the man means--that he wants Derek to be on all fours like a dog. There is an extended moment of stillness where Daniel can see Derek thinking about disobeying him before Derek crumples to the ground on his hands and knees.

"Heel," Daniel is so sure that Derek will crawl after him that he doesn't look back, walking to the dog grooming tub. He is pleased to see Derek shuffling just a step behind him, making sure that the leash doesn't become taught.

When they reach the tub, Daniel grabs a pair of heavy duty shears from a cabinet and slides the tip under the back of Derek's shirt by his neck. He pulls the fabric tight so that it is easier to cut and works the scissors through the material, before grabbing the waistband of Derek's sweats and starting in on them. Derek stays stock-still with the flat of the blade against his skin, his heart rate ratcheting upward as his body is exposed to the stranger in control of it.

Muttering something about dirty little puppies, Daniel smoothes his hand between Derek's skin and pants, helping to remove fabric that is so stiff with dried urine that it is almost as if it has been starched. It isn't lost on Daniel that Derek was freeballing when he was taken, and his scent starts to quicken with excitement as Derek's clothes drop to the ground. Derek can smell the oily scent of Daniel's arousal and starts to shake uncontrollably with dread. Derek is directed to crawl up the narrow steps into the basin, and the wolf does, the stainless steel flexing and clanging under the pressure of his knees. Once Derek is in the bath station, Daniel closes the walk-through gate behind him. His rough hand travels down Derek's quivering flank, dipping under his legs to casually fondle Derek's limp, shriveled penis and then rub his thighs.

"God, you're just covered in piss, aren't you?" His disgusted voice belies his excitement as he wipes the hand that was touching Derek on his pants to clean it off. He tethers the leash to a hook installed in the tub for that purpose before putting his head through a loop of a waterproof apron, tying it behind his back. Derek's hackles raise at the intimation that he is unclean. He wants to point out that it's his handler's fault that he is covered in piss and hasn't showered in days, but he doesn't dare say a word, feeling extremely vulnerable restrained, naked, and on all fours in the cold metal basin.

Daniel unhooks the faucet head and turns the water on, the pounding of the water against the sheet metal loud in Derek's ears. He doesn't wait for the water to warm up and directs it on the expanse of Derek's back, letting it roll down and wet the werewolf's body as his muscles clench against the cold. The patterns and whorls of Hale's body hair are mesmerizing underneath the spray, but Daniel pulls his eyes away and grabs the oatmeal shampoo from the lip of the tub. Derek's eyes slide over the picture of the happy dog on the front of the bottle as he retreats in on himself, dissociation only way that he can hope to survive the degradation in this place.

Derek stays still as Daniel soaps over his his whole body. Although he would never admit it, the cursory but gentle way that Daniel handles his body is comforting, especially after the isolation and stress he has been through in the last week. The subtle relaxation of Derek's body telegraphs every feeling Derek is having to Daniel. Daniel takes advantage of that moment to take Derek's face in his hands, massaging the soap carefully around his eyes, rubbing his forehead and eyebrows. Derek relaxes further despite himself, pushing down the warm feeling of being cared for and loved. Derek can't remember the last time that he had someone touch him this kindly and this intimately--he has had walls around himself for a long time. Daniel scrubs his fingers through Derek's scruff, rubbing deep into the tissue and smirking when Derek lets out a barely audible moan of contentment.

Working his fingers down Derek's jaw, Daniel keeps his touch light as he cleans the werewolf's neck, being careful to avoid the severe collar. Derek's body tenses during the time when Daniel is touching the front of his neck, but Daniel quickly moves on to Derek's torso and arms and the were finds himself involuntarily relaxing again. Daniel brushes the soap over Derek's pecks and nipples, not pausing or teasing, just efficiently cleaning the animal. The same detached treatment stands for the rest of his body, Daniel touching every inch of his skin (including between his toes).

Daniel finishes up soaping Derek's groin, prefunctorily grabbing his shaft to hold his dick still while he soaps it up. He pulls back the foreskin to clean the head and Derek closes his eyes, expression shuttered at the unwanted attention. His dick remains floppy and soft, even when Daniel takes his time, picking at his slit with his fingernail. Daniel finally leaves his dick alone, walking down so that he is standing at Derek's hip and reaching between the bottom of his thighs to grab Derek's balls and pull them up a little to clean them. Because the water is still cold, Derek's testicles are high and tight to his body, when usually his sac hangs stretched and low with the weight of them. Derek focuses on breathing--- in and out, in and out---to calm himself, he hair on the back of his neck prickling unpleasantly at the attention. Lastly, Daniel slides his fingers up across Derek's taint and to his asshole. He wipes it briefly, spreading soap in his crease, and then moves out to massage and clean the globes of his buttocks. Finally, he stops touching Derek and Derek lets out a small breath of relief at escaping more pointed sexual attention.

Daniel leans over the side of the tub to grab something else from the edge that Derek can't see, before pouring some shampoo in his hand and rubbing the object in his palm. Derek cranes his neck around as hard as he can, panic rising when he sees what Daniel holds in his hand--a thick bottle brush. The bottle brush has about 3 inches of thick white bristles and a long handle made out of twisted metal. Daniel doesn't give Derek anytime to work himself up before putting his thumb and forefinger on either side of his anus to force his external sphincter open and stuffing the brush inside. Derek screams in surprise and pain, tensing his cheeks so much they completely obscure his tightening asshole. Even though the bristles are covered with shampoo, they are made out of a rough plastic. They drag and scrape his inside walls as Daniel mercilessly forces the brush in further. Derek's body is doing everything it can to prevent the burning intrusion, clenching so much that the progress of the brush is brought to a standstill. Daniel releases his grip on the handle of the brush, leaving it sticking out of Derek's ass. He puts one of his palms flat on the pommel of the brush and brings his opposite fist down on top of his hand, not unlike a miner swinging a pick-axe. Derek screams again as the bristles tear into his flesh and he struggles,trying to move his legs to get away from Daniel but the confines of the tub not allowing him any room for reprieve.

Adjusting himself in his pants, Daniel appreciates Derek's struggle before hitting the end of brush with his hand several more times, until the foot-long brush is about eight inches in, then takes a strong hold of the handle and pumps it up and down, the resistance of Derek's ass markedly decreased. He pulls the bristles out completely, drenching Derek's asshole with shampoo before shoving the brush back in. Pain has almost completely taken over Derek's consciousness. He feels like he is floating above his body and detachedly thinks that Daniel is cleaning his hole like an industrious maid would clean the inside of a toilet. After several minutes of scrubbing, the burning pain has robbed Derek of all detachment. He is sobbing, and babbling, pleading to be let go and snotting all over himself.

By the time Daniel is done with the bottle brush, Derek is hoarse from screaming and the shampoo that is being removed from his ass is frothy and pink with blood.

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After thoroughly cleaning Derek internally Daniel takes his time rinsing the soap out and off. He wants to give the were's intestines time to heal and he knows they will be 'as good as new' if he takes a couple of minutes. The were makes an awful racket, bellowing and howling when he disconnects the shower head from the hose and slips the hose in his anus. Daniel has to grab a washcloth to plug the area around the hose and keep the water inside Derek's body.

Derek hates the sensation of being filled with cold water and a heaviness settles unpleasantly in his abdomen. It feels invasive and repulsive and he starts gagging and retching reflexively. He feels stretched and bloated, sick to his stomach and like he can't take anymore, especially after the experience with the brush. Derek starts bucking and then spreads his knees, dipping his back to lower his butt and try to positionally force the hose out. He doesn't stop moving when Daniel smacks him firmly on the flank so Daniel feeds the hose further into Derek's ass to try and get it far enough in to stay in on its own when he lets it go. He moves up to Derek's head and grabs the short length of the leash. He tightens it up as much as he can, watching the spikes of the collar slowly pierce Derek's neck. The wolfsbane coating turns the skin of his neck an ugly purple-red from the inside out, matching the color of his face as the collar presses so firmly on his trachea that it starts closing.

"Hold still, dog!" Daniel shakes him by the neck and keeps eye contact with Derek as the 'wolf paws at his neck, wide-eyed and panicked. Despite the pain and terror, Derek realizes that there is nothing he can do to change the outcome besides submit. It takes every ounce of strength he has to let go of the collar and put his hands back down on the bottom of the tub. Seconds go by and dark shadows start coming into his vision and Derek belatedly realizes his eyes are still locked with Daniel's. He drops his eyes and moves his head back to expose his neck as much as the tight hold will allow, emitting a thready whine.

A rough shake of the collar followed by a release of pressure on his neck slides Derek's whole body on the slippery floor of the tub, causing the water hose to kink and the length of it to start to slide out from his ass. Derek gasps and coughs, trying not to to pass out. His sphincter won't obey him when he tries desperately to clamp down on the hose to avoid Daniel's further displeasure. Horrified and helpless, Derek feels the hose slip out f his hole as if in slow motion, spraying water all over Daniel and the wall in a wide arc.

Daniel reaches down and grabs the end of the hose, instantly pointing it into Derek's face. He plugs it halfway with his broad thumb to turn the quick flow into a stinging rush. Still trying to recover from choking, Derek sputters and closes his mouth against the assault, trying to keep from inhaling more water, feeling his lungs already burning. Derek has always been a fearless swimmer. Laura used to tease him and call him a Newfoundland, a breed of dog that is known for its water rescue abilities, after jumping in the lake fully clothed to try and save a cousin he thought was drowning. It turned out that the cousin was just messing around and fighting in the water with Cora, but all of the splashing scared Derek and gave him the wrong impression. As he continues trying to breathe air and only bringing in more water, Derek feels a sharp terror at the realization that he is going to die. He still can't catch his breath from being choked and he doesn't think he can survive not being able to breathe again so soon.

Thankfully, Daniel looses interest fairly quickly and turns the water off. He puts one hand on Derek's full, taught lower abdomen and one on his back, right above his hips and pushes with a strong, even pressure. Derek knows that he is supposed to evacuate the water that was forced into him, but his stomach is cramping awfully and he is oddly too embarrassed to let go, worried that he is going to make disgusting noises and further humiliate himself. "Come on, you dirty creature." Daniel ignores Derek's panicked attempts at breathing and jabs the wolf unexpectedly in the gut with his elbow, the surprise and the force pushing Derek over the edge and he lets go. Murky translucent water splatters to the bottom of the tub in a sudden rush and once it is coming out, Derek's body is able to push the rest out. Daniel makes a noise of approval and cursorily rinses off Derek's hind-end and the bottom of the tub, pretending that he doesn't notice Derek's small start of fear when he turned the water back on but filing the information away for later.

"There you go, all clean! I don't like introducing a dog into the kennel when they are all full of weird smells." He frees the leash from its hook, opens the door on the side of the grooming tub and leads Derek down the stairs and back onto the cement floor. He doesn't bother to dry Derek off, letting him shiver and drip all over the floor.

As Daniel walks out of the room, Derek scrambles to keep a loose leash and tries to keep an eye on the layout of the building, but he's really not in the right mental state to be tracking movements and formulating an escape plan. As he moves on his hands and knees, he tries not to focus on the lingering internal pain from the bottle brush and the lacerations caused by the collar, but his physical state is difficult to ignore when he is so mentally detached. He feels like he is floating, having an out of body experience or in a really terrible dream where he doesn't have control over his body The whole building stinks strongly of bleach, mountain ash, wolfsbane, and a miasma of conflicting emotions (happiness, desperation, elation, terror) from hunters and werewolves. Several times he has to wait in a doorway while Daniel leans down to move a mountain ash barrier that is recessed in the floor, creating a convenient were containment system.

Finally, Daniel slows in front of a door that has the word "Studs" on it in bold black letters. Inside the room are a series of about a half-dozen 3' x 10' dog runs made out of mountain ash. Most of the runs are empty, except for a bucket of water and a large Kuranda raised dog bed, but the first three each contain a person. All three of the weres go berserk when Daniel walks him past their kennels, running up to the front of the cage snarling and barking, leaping into the door and getting repelled back by the mountain ash.

Derek's hackles go up, not because of the aggression but because of the state of mind that the werewolves are all in. He wants to know what Gerard is doing with all of these people but doesn't dare to ask Daniel. He follows Daniel's cues and climbs into a run near the back of the room. Daniel unclips his leash from the collar and secures the kennel door before leaving Derek in the room dripping, cold, and clueless.

Chapter Text

Derek had been kept in his kennel run with no meaningful human interaction for two weeks. He heard the kennel staff say that he was on a “two week shutdown” and that time alone in a quiet dark kennel should help him decompress. Twice a day the guillotine door to the adjacent outdoor run was pulled up and he and the other weres would squeeze through the opening to ‘do his business.’ Five minutes later, a man in rubber boots would come down the kennel line with the pressure washer and spray the area down into a central drain. The first (and only) time Derek had lingered outside in the fresh air instead of going immediately back inside, the kennel attendant had sprayed him in his face with a terrible chemical/water mixture. His eyes stung for days and a week later his skin still smelled like bleach.

Everything looks different from his vantage point on the floor. Even in his full wolf shift, he is bigger than his human form on his hands and knees, so his perception is skewed and he feels very small. The other weres in the kennel took several days to get used to him, but after they did, their raucous barking and growling slowly petered out. They all get let outside in their respective runs do their business at the same time. Derek hasn’t tried to talk to them since the first day, when he had scrabbled outside, hopeful to encounter sentience. He had been so happy to see the sky and breathe something other than despair that the bizarre behavior of the werewolf in the run next to his almost didn’t register.

The were was older than Derek—maybe about 35—and built. If he had been dressed appropriately and standing in a coffee shop, he would have been considered very attractive. As it was, his striking green eyes had pinned Derek down while the feral man crouched in place, defecating. Never before had Derek been the subject of such intense scrutiny during such a private moment, not even as a good-looking young man at a wake populated almost entirely with lecherous retired ladies. ‘Luckily’ (for this situation anyway) the chemicals and poisons of the place have almost completely burned out Derek’s sense of smell. Derek tried to look away but the were locked eyes with him and demanded his attention. Several long moments later, the ‘wolf finished his business and briefly scuffed his hindlimbs back like he was kicking up dirt and leaves before he walked forward to the wolfsbane infused chain link between them. Derek meets him there, drawn in by his something about him—most likely the terror is looking what will happen to him directly in the eyes. The mans eyes are human but devoid of any greater understanding, although he is very interested in Derek. The man is probably an alpha, but it is impossible to tell for sure without shifting (or getting intimate). They get close enough that they can almost touch noses before the kennel attendant starts cleaning the runs at the end of the row of cages. The other were turns quickly and scampers on his hands and knees back into the indoor portion of the run, the last glimpse Derek sees of him are the balls of his feet and his other balls swinging after him, equally as obvious.

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Daniel starts coming and visiting Derek once a day. Each time me brings a bite-size Milk Bone and offers t to Derek from the palm of his hand. Initially when offered the biscuit, Derek hesitated. Even though he has been eating nothing but dog kibble since he was imprisoned, the incredibly demeaning act of eating a treat from his captor’s hand gives him pause. Daniel doesn’t give him a second to reconsider, retracting his hand and immediately leaving. The second, third, and fourth time are the same, but without any other interaction he begins to look forward to seeing Daniel, even if it is only for the second before he walks away. The fifth day, Derek extends his neck and oh-so-gently takes the bone in his mouth—not because he is starving or because he is really looking forward to the variety in taste. It’s because if he eats it, he hopes Daniel will be pleased.

The day Derek takes the Milk Bone is one of the best days in his life. Daniel reaches through the chain link of the kennel door as if to pet Derek. Derek whines desperately and shoves his whole face against the gate, ignoring the burning sensation of the wolfsbane in favor of any scrap of human kindness. Daniel laughs delightedly and spends a good 15 minutes at the kennel door, rubbing Derek’s cheek and murmuring how proud he is of him.

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From that day on, Derek takes the treat every time Daniel offers him one. Daniel doesn’t give him one every day—he doesn’t want to make Derek fat—but he does start coming to the kennel more frequently. He doesn’t always spend 10 or 15 minutes with Derek, but regardless seeing Daniel is the bright part of his day. The rest of the day is filled with the noises of the individual stereotypic behaviors the restless weres have developed during their incarceration—hitting their head against the wall, running their hand along the infused chain mail while hissing from the pain before repeating the behavior, and constantly rearing up from their position on all fours to be just up on their knees before crashing back down onto all fours again.

Today, Derek feels like he is truly losing his mind. The routine is off—they hadn’t been fed after they had been let out for the morning and Daniel hadn’t come—he usually comes after breakfast. The were in the kennel next to him won’t stop making soft grunts and scuffling noises followed by high-pitched keens.

They eventually get fed around midday but it takes until after the evening let out for Daniel to show up. He looks a little worse for wear, smells like were blood, and Derek’s immediately gripped with fear—for Daniel. The concern that he has must show on his face, because for the first time since he entered this building, Daniel opens the kennel door and enters, shutting it behind him. Derek backs up in the corner as far as he can, insure of what is going to happen next and also wanting to make sure that Daniel knows he is not a threat.

Daniel settles down cross-legged on the concrete floor and starts talking to Derek. He talks about how happy he was that Derek was immediately house-trained and about how good he has been. Derek slowly relaxes, adjusting to Daniel being in his kennel on his level. Daniel keeps lowly talking about how pleased he is with Derek’s behavior and after about 20 minutes of quiet reassurances, he invites Derek over to him by softly patting the hard muscle of his thigh. Derek doesn’t even realize he is moving until he has crawled up to Daniel and, at gentle physical prompting from his trainer, laid down belly up with his head in Daniel’s lap.

Derek tumbled as Daniel’s fingers card his hair and after a brief tensing, as his strong hands run over his chest and vulnerable belly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Derek is horrified, but his wolf has internally taken over and formed a strong bond with his Alpha. The approval Daniel is radiating makes Derek’s animal brain purr with contentment. Daniel laughs at the noises that Derek is making and keeps running his hand over Derek’s body. “You like that, don’t you, boy? You have been so good for me, mot fence fighting with the other dogs, eager to greet me, and you haven’t tried to stand up again, even though there is nothing stopping you. “

Derek’s body tenses again and Daniel pushes down on his breastbone firmly to keep him in place as the were’s human side resurfaces. There is nothing stopping him? Derek struggles to comprehend that for almost a month he has been walking around on his hands and knees—without being forced. He surges against his Alpha’s hand to try and rise but Daniel doesn’t have to put much effort into keeping Derek on the ground in a submissive position—he isn’t in any type of mental position to be going against his Alpha’s will. Eventually Daniel gets tired of the writhing that is the physical manifestation of Derek’s inner turmoil and orders him to ‘Settle’ with an iron voice that brooks no argument. “Shh shh shh, no need to struggle, not yet anyway” Daniel adds under his breath. Despite his mind screaming at him to flee, his wolf takes the remark as an order and he stills again in his trainer’s arms, although his body is stiff, no longer exhibiting the easy submission he had first shown.

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Late that night, Derek attempts to rise from his sleeping position into a crouch. It takes him 45 minutes to force his body into the position, knowing what he is doing would displease Daniel if he found out. He crouches for about 30 seconds. Exhausted, he collapses to the floor, his body drenched in sweat. He begins to sob.

Chapter Text

A few days later, Daniel begins Derek’s training in earnest. He takes him out into a big gymnasium and they spend hours with Derek on the end of a thin chain—more of a suggestion than a restraint—trotting around in a wide circle. At first Derek is ungainly and he actually feels embarrassed. It is logistically difficult to stay down on all fours unshifted and move at any kind of a clip, much less look effortless while doing so. Privately, Derek wishes he would be allowed to shift—not only because he dearly misses the protection of his inner wolf, but because he believes he would be able to trot in such a way that Daniel would think he was beautiful.

Over the next few weeks, Daniel explains that Derek is going to a show and if he does well, that he will be marketable as an “up-and-coming” stud. He doesn’t mention what will happen if Derek does poorly, but Derek noticed one of his kennel mates smelling damaged and salty and sickly sweet, like bruises and semen and over-ripe fruit, before he was not returned to his kennel.

In addition to ring work, Daniel also spends two hours each morning with Derek before breakfast, working on commands. It takes a lot of repetition for him to move with the clipped precision Daniel asks of him on cue.

Derek is surprised to find that training with Daniel doesn’t have to be painful. The first few sessions are rough, because of Derek’s overwhelming embarrassment and Daniels assumption that he knows what the correct form he is supposed to take looks like. Once Daniel realizes Derek is not being willfully disobedient but truly doesn’t understand the details—that his elbows should be straight in line with his body, that his neck should always be just slightly bared toward his handler, that his back should not be ramrod straight but with his lower back dropped a little and his rump elevated (like the ‘cow’ yoga pose in cat-cow). Daniel tethers Derek to the wall and brings in one of their champion studs, Jackson, and puts him through his paces so that Derek can see how he responds to commands.

Jackson is a cocky, prissy little thing and something ugly and dark in Derek bubbles up seeing the ‘wolf perform for his Alpha. He can’t keep a snarl off of his face as Jackson completes the demonstration and Daniel reaches down and strokes him along his bare back, slapping his haunch good-naturedly and calling him a ‘Good Boy.’ When Daniel leads Jackson out of the room past Derek, Derek locks eyes with Jackson, lifts his lip silently and then makes a lighting quick movement to attack Jackson that he aborts at the last moment. The other were startles and bolts back away from Derek, stumbling over Daniel’s feet and almost making him trip. The resulting beating is worth the smirk on Daniel’s face when he looks at Jackson, who is trying and failing to suavely recover from his initial fear.

After that, Derek has no problem following Daniel’s cues and making his movements crisp and accurate. He doesn’t want to give Daniel a reason to bring Jackson back out.

Only a few days after Jackson’s demonstration, Daniel introduces him to an agility course. Derek’s face burns in shame as he realizes that it is not at all a badass course showing off what he can really do—like on ‘Ninja Warrior’—but instead an oversized blue and yellow dog agility course designed to make a mockery of him and his kind. When Daniel slips his leash off and directs him to to the A-frame with a curt hand, Derek thinks about refusing. He really does. But all thoughts of resisting vanish when he takes a step toward the frame and Daniel breaks out into a smile, calling and encouraging him. Derek remembers racing over makeshift obstacles at the Lakehouse with his sisters and just takes off, rocketing toward and over the A-frame (taking care to touch the contact points) and then busting his ass to get through the rest of the course as fast as he possibly can. At Daniel’s instruction, he darts through the weave poles,
balances on the teeter, and jumps through the tire. At the end of the course, he comes off the boardwalk barreling straight toward Daniel. Daniel laughs—our of excitement that he could be a contender and because the werewolf looks so stupid—and thumps his chest with both hands, exactly how you would invite a dog to jump up into your arms. A second later Derek leaps onto him knocking Daniel to the ground, trying to convey how good he feels. The course was the first time Derek has felt fun and carefree in months. Derek frantically begins licking all over Daniel’s face, both to claim him, share his excitement and as a submissive appeasement behavior— he hadn’t meant to flatten him to the ground.

Daniel laughs it off, roughhousing with Derek on the ground for a few seconds before assertively pinning him to the ground by his neck while Derek is on his hands and knees. Derek freezes in place, sweat beading on his skin and leaving trails of moisture down his quivering thigh. Daniel takes liberties, running his hand over Derek’s shoulders, sides, and back. He reaches back behind Derek, grabbing his dick and jacking him languidly at first, then with real purpose.

“Show me your monster cock. Fill out that knot and show me how you are going to tie any bitch we put in front of you. Show me you know what to do with this thing and aren’t just a bitch with a big dick.” Daniel ruthlessly squeezed the base of his penis and harder and harder and the suddenly released moving his hand up” Derek pumped his hips forward again, his knot popping up quickly, splattering come all over the floor.

Daniel massaged Derek’s testicles until they were empty, talking to the were softly about how his big, heavy breeder balls were finally going to be good for something other than sitting on. When Daniel finally let go of the overstimulated ‘wolf, Derek backed up a foot or so and kept his face by the floor, licking up the mess he made.