That gasp is going to stay with him a while, especially coupled as it is with the narrowed eyes.

It's not hard to imagine another, more private scenario. Not unlike this one, but played out in the privacy of his home, and with a more complicated set of instructions and rewards for dear Fido here. No muzzle, perhaps, but a better-voltage collar. No human clothes, for what need has a dog for those? And, of course, much better treats...

Joker pictures Harley spread out, nude, on their sofa, with her pussy offered up at his command for her newest pet's training. Her breath coming in little whimpers, while Fido's good-boy tongue works her clit just the way Daddy said to. And every time he starts to get her too close to the brink, why, Daddy's right there to make him pay for it. A strong jolt here. A hard slap there. And if he really works her right, perhaps a good deal more.

How much might Fido hate and adore that, Joker wonders?

"You did well," he praises, and though his voice is still on-with-the-show, his eyes suggest he means it. "No need to thank me for that."

He rises to his full height again, and extends a hand down to help Fido return to his feet and his humanity.

"May I ask your name?"