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Satoru doesn’t look like she’s enjoying her stay in the doghouse. Suguru refuses to budge and forgive. Satoru knows what she’s done. Maybe once she’s decided to act less like an entitled brat, Suguru will allow her to sleep on the couch instead of the yard.
“Suguru, can we…” Satoru stands in front of her, shifting the weight back and forth on either of her legs.
She’s especially handsome today, wearing dark cuffed jeans and a light blue button down tucked into them. The top few buttons are undone, exposing her jutting collarbones. Her rectangular glasses are tucked into her breast pocket.
It doesn’t matter how good she looks, though. Suguru won’t be swayed.
“No.” Suguru turns her nose up, and goes back to her book. She barely gets a few more sentences in when Satoru speaks again.
“Suguruuu.” Suguru doesn’t need to look up to know what kind of face Satoru makes when she whines like that, acting like a petulant child instead of an ultra competent jujutsu sorcerer.
She looks, anyways. Satoru’s closer to her now, close enough that Suguru can smell her cologne, woody and citrusy.
Satoru’s got her extra sparkly shojo eyes on, sticking her glittery bottom lip out, forming a cute pout. “I said I was sorry.”
‘Sorry’ isn’t enough to absolve the humiliation Suguru endured three nights ago.
Suguru isn’t going to indulge in another one of Satoru’s fantasies for a long, long time. Satoru wanted to have sex in one of the classrooms on campus, begged Suguru for months to make it happen. Suguru had always denied her, it was too risky and she was afraid that a faculty member or, worse, a student would walk in on them.
But that day, Satoru had finally came back home from a mission overseas, and had surprised Suguru while she was writing her own mission report.
Satoru had kissed Suguru’s neck, whispered filth into her ear, and groped her ass.
The worry drilling at the back of her head was still present, but Satoru had assured Suguru that she’d be vigilant, and would sense anyone long before they approached the door.
Suguru had been pent up for days, desperate for Satoru’s touch after going without it for so long. She readily spread her legs and let Satoru manhandle her over the desk.
She shouldn’t have given in so easily. Satoru always had to have it her way.
Shoko, Mei Mei, and Nanami had all walked into the classroom when Satoru was three knuckles deep inside Suguru’s cunt, with her tongue pressed against Suguru’s clit, French kissing her glans piercing. Suguru couldn’t even cover herself up, tits spilling out of the neckline of her blouse and ankle length skirt thrown onto the ground.
Suguru doesn’t think she can look any of them in the eye now.
Satoru deflates, shoulders slumping, head hanging forward. Then she shuffles into the room and kneels in between Suguru’s leg, laying her head on Suguru’s lap.
She must’ve visited the barbershop earlier today because her hair no longer reaches her nape, undercut freshly shorn. Suguru resists the urge to run her stiletto acrylics against it, feel the soft fuzz of the cropped hair under her fingertips.
“Suguruuuuu,” Satoru whines, nuzzling her cheek into Suguru’s outer thigh, before looking up at her. Satoru is just so damn adorable, with her big sapphire eyes, pleading expression on her exquisite face.
Suguru should push Satoru off her, make her grovel by her feet instead. She looks like she wants her head to be pet, a puppy waiting for attention from her owner. Too bad for her, Suguru doesn’t reward bad doggies.
“What’s it gonna take for you to forgive me?” Satoru asks, voice muffled, face squished against the soft fabric of Suguru’s lounge pants.
Suguru snorts. Forgive? No, the only way disobedient dogs learn is with punishment.
Satoru must’ve died and gone straight to hell because Suguru is currently psychologically, mentally, physically, and spiritually torturing her, so cruel and inhumane that it has to be violating several international humanitarian laws. Her hands are bound by thick rope, reinforced with some kind of technique that makes it impossible for her to manifest any cursed energy. The cables are made out of an extremely dense and tough material. It would’ve been a cinch to get out of these ropes with the help of cursed energy.
Satoru is helpless, at the mercy of her wife, who’s currently on top of her. Suguru’s golden skin is misted with sweat, dewy under the soft light from the lit candles scattered around the room.
Suguru’ perfect, heavy tits jump in her skimpy black tank top as she bounces on Satoru’s strap. Her right one looks like it’s in danger of escaping the skintight fabric, a dark brown circle peeking behind the almost sheer cloth.
A dangerous smile flickers across Suguru’s pillowy lips. “Enjoying the show, Satoru?”
Suguru’s long, dark hair swishes around her as she rides Satoru like she’s a bronco at the rodeo. Her hands are planted on Satoru’s shoulders, putting on the performance of the century. Her soft, thick thighs spread wide, giving Satoru the best view of her greedy, hairy pussy stretched out around hot pink silicone.
Her lips swallow it, squelching and slurping as it greedily stuffs more and more of the silicone inside of it. Suguru is so fucking wet, she’s drooling out the sides, making a giant sloppy mess all over Satoru’s harness and briefs. If Suguru keeps this pace up, Satoru will soon feel her and Suguru’s cum intermingle within the fabric.
She fears this will be the closest she’ll get to Suguru tonight, hopes that Suguru will finally let up and fucking throw her a bone.
Suguru’s tawny thighs and tits jiggle as they make contact, a constant plaplaplap as her asscheeks slap against Satoru’s narrow hips. The whole bed creaks with every movement Suguru makes, the wooden headboard slamming rhythmically into the wall.
Suguru obviously wants to drive Satoru insane, so she makes a big fucking show of scooping her breasts out of her tank top. She squeezes them together, pulls on her piercings. Her brows pinch together and she bites her lip as she fondles herself.
There’s a high pitched ringing in between Satoru’s ears, incapable of comprehending the sight above her. That should be her hands on Suguru, her fingers groping Suguru’s breasts, playing with her piercings.
Suguru runs her lipstick glazed mouth: strings of ‘Oh!’s and ‘Ah!’s and ‘Fuck! Satoru!’s that do nothing more than wind Satoru up. She’s such a fucking tease, and she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on Satoru.
Blood pounds in Satoru’s ears, echoing around her skull. She feels like she’s losing her mind, strings of thoughts frothing and frothing, whipping her brain until it peaks into foam and nothing else.
Suguru throws her head back, exposing the elegant column of her neck, decorated with old faded hickies and bites from all the previous encounters where Satoru’s gnawed on her neck. Suguru moans, voice pitching higher and higher, as she seeks her own pleasure, treating Satoru like she’s just a cock with legs attached.
The weight of Suguru’s ass on top of her hips is incredible, but Satoru can’t even fully enjoy it because half the fun is grabbing the softness around Suguru’s waist, bringing her down onto Satoru, joining them both together. She wants to touch Suguru so bad, her hands squirm in their restraints, a futile effort that just leaves her sweaty and tired with deep red bloody marks around her wrists because Suguru bound her tight.
Satoru chokes when Suguru grinds down on the strap, sending a jolt through her system as the harness rubs against her clit through her briefs. Her underwear is fucking ruined, entirely soaked through from the last thirty minutes from this torture. She tries to speak, plead Suguru to untie her, but as soon as she opens her mouth, the metal cage fastened around her face and neck rattles. Her jaw aches from how tight it’s locked around her.
Suguru laughs, all mean and huffy, kohl smudged eyes crinkling as she looks down on her. Her hips stutter on Satoru’s cock. “Awww…does the puppy have something to say?” Her dark red lips curve into a smirk.
The puppy does have something to say. But Satoru can’t talk, not with this stupid fucking muzzle in the way. So, she’ll just have to find other ways to communicate.
Satoru plants her feet onto the mattress.
Suguru looks over her shoulder. “What are you doing, Sato—“ Satoru thrusts upwards once with little finesse and technique.
Suguru cries out in surprise, nails practically slicing into Satoru’s abdomen, blood under the shiny dark chrome polish. Satoru hisses at the pain, but doesn’t let it stop her from continuing to fuck into Suguru, with probably little too much excitement. She nearly sends Suguru flying headfirst into the bed.
She finds immense satisfaction in Suguru’s reactions, enjoys the way Suguru folds above her, breasts squishing against Satoru’s flat chest.
Suguru regains her bearings sooner than Satoru would’ve liked. She lifts herself off of Satoru’s strap, leaves a sticky trail of her juices all over it.
“Bad dog!” Suguru snaps. She gives a hard yank on the leash and Satoru’s vision temporarily whites out as the air is cut from her neck. Her mouth instinctively tries to open wide to suck in a breath, but the muzzle prevents her from doing so, forcing her jaw to stay in place.
Saliva spills out from the seam of her lips, even froths out a bubble as she huffs and puffs, trying to catch her breath. Suguru doesn’t give her a chance, yanking on the leash again, the silver and leather constricts around her neck, digging into her skin, leaving patterns embedded in the flesh, and loosens again when Suguru relaxes her grip.
“You never learn do you?” Suguru sneers.
Suguru seems to love holding the other end of Satoru’s noose, rubbing the leather and chain between her forefingers. Her oynx eyes sparkle with amusement and she pulls on the chain again even harder, punching out the miniscule amount of air trapped in Satoru’s lungs.
Satoru wheezes and coughs, noises stuck in her throat.
This is so unfair. She wants to touch Suguru so bad, wants to feel Suguru’s soft skin under her palms and the warm wetness of her cunt on her tongue and fingers. and Suguru is fucking denying her everything.
It’s hard to make out Suguru above her, her vision is hazy, unfocused. Blurry from all the tears that well above her waterline.
“You misbehave so much, it makes me think you really like getting punished, Satoru.” Suguru’s nails trace patterns across her torso. She’s not gentle with her touch, digging the tips in, scraping at Satoru’s flesh, like she’s trying to unearth what’s under her skin.
Satoru’s about five seconds away from erupting, molten lava bubbling under the surface.
“What am I gonna do with you, Satoru?” Suguru sighs. “I think you need to be disciplined a little bit more.”
Suguru’s hands travel over to Satoru’s chest.
Satoru’s eyes widen. No, not there, they’re always so sensitive and—
Suguru’s smile is absolutely wicked as she tugs on Satoru’s nipples.
If Satoru could scream, she would’ve. Her hands thrash against her restraints, and her body arches into Suguru’s cruel fingers.
Suguru pulls and pinches, sending sharp spikes of pleasure and pain through Satoru’s chest.
This feels like payback for all the times Satoru had tested Suguru’s limits, but hundreds of times worse.
Satoru’s choked moans must spur Suguru on even more because she giggles, delighted by Satoru’s reactions, and treats her even harsher.
Satoru can do little but lay there and take it: wrists and jaw aching, chest pulsating.
Suguru only stops when the tears finally wash over Satoru’s flushed cheeks, staining the leather straps on her muzzle with salt.
“Awww…what a cute pup.” There isn’t an ounce of tenderness in Suguru’s words, no adoration, just pure condescension. Bitchy and rude and it makes Satoru thrum with arousal.
“I think I might even throw you a treat, you’re just so damn adorable.”
Suguru reaches behind Satoru’s head, unfastens the leather buckles holding her in place, and removes her muzzle.
Satoru’s face had been locked in place for so long, it takes great effort for her to unhinge her jaw, stretching it out, attempting to stimulate some blood flow back in there.
“Sugu-“
A quick slap to her cheek, the stinging fleeting pain shocking Satoru into silence.
“Quiet,” Suguru reprimands. “Dogs aren’t supposed to talk.” She swings her legs around and over Satoru’s head, hovering right above Satoru’s lips.
The fucking smell of her. All heady and musky, it wafts into Satoru’s nostrils, and Satoru’s already breathing so deeply, trying to get every single molecule of it into her lungs.
Suguru’s wetness clings to her hair. Between the barely trimmed black strands, Suguru’s lips look like glass, like someone’s squeezed an entire tube of lip gloss over them.
Satoru’s mouth waters, anticipation growing inside of her, salivating like the fucking dog she is, eagerly waiting for her owner to give her a treat.
“Go ahead.” Suguru encourages her. “Have a little taste.”
Satoru laps at Suguru’s cunt, dipping her tongue into her, like a panting dog on a hot summer’s day trying to get every single drop inside of her, quenching her thirst.
Suguru hums out soft moan in approval, whispers something Satoru couldn’t make out, and fully sits on Satoru’s face like a chair.
Suguru’s making noise above her, but Satoru can’t really hear any of her moans because her sturdy thighs brackets the sides of Satoru’s head, covering her ears.
There’s so much pressure applied onto Satoru’s neck, and the pillow provides some support, but obviously not enough to really prevent any potential neck snapping. Satoru finds that she doesn’t care if she dies in this position, with her face buried in Suguru’s cunt, the heavy weight of Suguru’s ass resting against her chin.
Suguru’s hands twist into her hair, use her as leverage to grind all over Satoru’s lips and nose and tongue. Her slick spreads all over the lower half of Satoru’s face, her hair does very little to sop the mess up, coarse strands rubbing against Satoru’s face like a poor excuse of a towel. Suguru rolls her clit against Satoru’s tongue, the spherical metal ball clinks against Satoru’s teeth as Suguru rocks back and forth.
She can tell when Suguru is close, thighs trembling against her jaw, hips moving faster than before, seeking her pleasure.
Suguru finishes with a moan that Satoru feels rather more than hears. She rises from Satoru’s face, much to Satoru’s disappointment. She likes it when Suguru’s plump ass ceases her circulation. Sharp needly pricks run down the top half of her body, nerves slowly regaining their ability to sense and feel.
The flavor of Suguru’s cum, savory and earthy, lingers on Satoru’s tongue and lips. Satoru licks it off, not trying to waste any of the food her owner so graciously gifted her.
Satoru is rewarded with soft pets to her mussed up hair, a calloused hand caressing her cheek, and a praise filled, “Good boy, Satoru,” that has her tail wagging.