Slowly, I pulled out of her, the heavy condom slipping free. I laid her gently on her side, a beautiful ruin on the black leather sheets, and stood. My body hummed with a power that was both terrifying and divine, a high-frequency current that made the air itself feel thick and charged. The animal rage had been spent, but in its place was something colder, sharper. The profound, quiet satisfaction of a creator admiring her work. I needed to ground myself.
My eyes found my phone, propped on the bedside table. The red light was still blinking. I walked over and stopped the recording, the on-screen image freezing on Yuki's slack, unconscious face, her hair fanned out like a dark halo. I saved the file, labeling it simply: Puppy's First Lesson. A new masterpiece for my growing collection.
Then I looked at the digital clock beside it.
10:40 PM.
A cold, sharp thrill, distinct from the fading heat of lust, cut through the haze. The thought of Tachibana Miki—her smug face, her vapid cruelty, her utter ignorance of the predator she had goaded—returned with a vengeance. The hunger was not sated. Yuki had been an exquisite, willing sacrifice, a banquet of submission that had nourished a part of me. But it was the wrong kind of nourishment. It was a feast that only made the deeper, more venomous appetite for retribution more acute. The hunger for the unwilling. The hunger for fear.
It had only grown sharper.
I had another appointment to keep. An insect to crush.
But first, the practicalities. I couldn't go out into the night smelling of sex and conquest, my clothes still damp with the evidence of Yuki's complete undoing. I turned back to the bed. Yuki was stirring, her limbs twitching with the phantom echoes of her pleasure. Her moans were soft, wounded things, the sounds of a creature returning to a world it no longer recognized. I needed her awake. Not for her sake, but for mine.
I walked to the en-suite bathroom, the one with the ludicrously large jacuzzi, and filled a glass with cold water. Returning to the bedside, I looked down at her for a long moment. She was so vulnerable, so utterly broken. A part of me, a vestige of the girl I used to be, might have felt a flicker of pity. The monster I was becoming felt only a profound, chilling sense of ownership. This was mine. I had made this.
I let the water trickle onto her face.
Her eyes shot open with a gasp. They were wide, unfocused, pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed the brown of her irises. She looked at me, and for a second, there was nothing but confusion. Then, recognition dawned, and it was immediately followed by a wave of pure, unadulterated adoration.
"Akira… sama…" she whispered, her voice a raw, shredded rasp.
"Welcome back, puppy," I said, my voice soft. I placed the empty glass on the table. "You were gone for a while. Did you have sweet dreams?"
She tried to sit up, her body trembling violently. She failed, collapsing back onto the pillows with a soft cry of frustration. "I… I can't move…"
"I know," I said. "I broke you. It's a beautiful thing to watch." I ran a single finger down her cheek, tracing the path of a dried tear. "But I have business to attend to. I need to shower, and I can't very well wear these clothes." I gestured to my discarded uniform and gym shorts. "I'm going to need to borrow something of yours."
Her eyes lit up at the simple, domestic request. It was a new form of intimacy, a new layer to our dynamic she hadn't anticipated. "Anything, Akira-sama," she breathed. "My closet… it's all yours."
I scooped her up into my arms. She was light, a boneless weight against my chest. She whimpered as I carried her, burying her face in my shoulder. I didn't carry her with tenderness. I carried her like a tool I was moving from one workbench to another. The destination was the shower. She needed to be cleaned. Maintained. A master must take care of her property.
The hot water sluiced over us, and she sagged against me, unable to stand on her own. I washed her with a detached, methodical efficiency. My hands moved over the canvas of her skin, soaping the beautiful, rising welts on her ass and back, the angry red marks of my possession. She moaned as my fingers brushed against her swollen, hypersensitive clit, her body twitching uncontrollably. I ignored it. This wasn't for her pleasure. This was for cleanliness.
After I had rinsed the sweat, cum, and filth from her body, I helped her into the jacuzzi, the bubbling water a stark contrast to the cold, clinical nature of my task. I sat beside her, the jets massaging my own tired muscles. She curled up against me immediately, her body pliant and exhausted, seeking the heat and solidity of my form. We sat in silence for a long time, the only sound the churning of the water. Her head rested on my shoulder, her breathing slowly evening out. The storm had passed, leaving this strange, placid calm in its wake.
It was she who broke the silence.
"Akira-sama…?" she whispered, her voice still fragile.
"Hmm?"
She hesitated, gathering her courage. I could feel the nervous tremor that ran through her. "Last night… and tonight… and… and you said…" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Does this mean… am I your girlfriend now?"
The question, so earnest and vulnerable, was a morsel of power so delicious I could almost taste it. She wasn't asking for a relationship. She was asking for a label for her submission. She was asking for her place in my world, for the name of the kennel I would keep her in.
I turned my head slowly, looking down at her. A slow, predatory smile touched my lips. I let the silence stretch, watching the desperate hope flicker in her wide, tear-filled eyes. I reached up and patted her head, my fingers stroking her wet hair in the same way one would soothe a loyal dog.
"Girlfriend," I said, the word tasting strange and new on my tongue. I let it roll around, considering it. "Yes. I suppose that's a good title for my favorite pet." I gave her head another condescending pat. "You've been a very good girl, Yuki. You've earned it."
A sound that was half-sob, half-laugh escaped her lips. Pure, unadulterated joy radiated from her. She hugged me tighter, pressing herself against me, her body trembling with a fresh wave of emotion. She was mine. And now, she had a name for it.
I let her cling to me for another minute before I disengaged. "The break is over," I said, my tone shifting back to one of cool command. I stood up, water sluicing off my body. I walked, naked and dripping, from the bathroom into her bedroom and to her closet. It was a walk-in, immaculately organized. It was filled with a strange mix of cute, frilly dresses and dark, gothic-lolita style outfits. I chose the latter. A black, high-collared blouse, a pair of tight black jeans, and leather boots. They fit perfectly, the fabric straining slightly across my biceps and shoulders. The look was severe, powerful. It suited the night's agenda.
When I returned to the bathroom, Yuki had managed to pull herself to the edge of the jacuzzi. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with awe. "You look… incredible, Akira-sama."
"I know," I said simply. I walked over to the bed, where the evidence of our encounter still lay. I picked up the tied-off condom. It was heavy in my palm, warm with the heat of my own body. A small, perfect vessel of my power and my seed. I walked back and stood before her, dangling it from my fingers.
"Before I go," I said, my voice a low, silken purr. "There's one last thing."
She looked from the condom to my face, her expression a mixture of confusion and dawning, ecstatic understanding.
"A good girlfriend," I began, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "a truly devoted little bitch, would never let her Master's seed go to waste. It's a part of me. The most potent part. To waste it would be the ultimate act of disrespect." I knelt down, bringing my face level with hers. I held the condom before her lips. "I want you to drink it, Yuki. All of it. I want you to take me inside you one last time tonight. I want you to swallow every last drop and show me just how much you worship the ground I walk on. Show me you're worthy of being my girlfriend."
There was no hesitation. Not a flicker of revulsion. Her eyes, which were already wet with tears of joy, filled with a new, burning light. The light of a zealot being offered a sacred sacrament. This was not a degradation to her. This was a communion.
"Yes, Akira-sama," she breathed, her voice thick with devotion. "Thank you."
She took the condom from my fingers with trembling hands. Her movements were reverent. She held it like a holy relic, bringing it to her lips. She untied the knot with a clumsy eagerness, her eyes never leaving mine. The smell of latex and my own musky scent filled the small space between us. She tilted her head back and poured the thick, milky fluid into her mouth.
She gagged for a moment, her throat convulsing, but she forced it down. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a single tear of pure ecstasy rolled down her cheek. She didn't stop until the condom was empty. She licked the inside clean, her little pink tongue darting out to catch every last drop. Then she looked up at me, her lips glistening, a pathetic, beautiful, devoted mess.
"Was I a good girl, Akira-sama?" she whispered.
I leaned in and kissed her, my tongue swiping across her lips, tasting myself on her. "You were perfect," I breathed against her mouth. I stood up, a sense of profound, terrifying satisfaction settling deep in my bones. I had broken her, and in the breaking, I had made her utterly, completely, beautifully mine.
As I turned to leave, her voice, small and desperate, stopped me.
"Akira-sama, wait!" I turned back. She was looking at the clock. "It's almost midnight. And tomorrow is Saturday. After… after your appointment… will you come back? Please? Spend the weekend here with me?"
The plea was naked, desperate. She couldn't bear the thought of me leaving for long. The thought was… pleasing. A secure base of operations. A comfortable kennel to return to after the hunt. And a willing toy to play with, to hone my skills on.
I allowed a small, almost gentle smile to touch my lips. "I'll text my mother," I said, the simple words a confirmation that sealed her fate for the next forty-eight hours. "Keep the bed warm, puppy. Master will be back."
I walked out of the opulent bathroom, through the innocent-looking bedroom, and up the stairs, leaving her weeping with joy in her gilded cage. As I stepped out of her house and into the cold, clean air of the manicured street, the thought of Yuki and her pathetic, beautiful devotion evaporated like smoke.
My mind was already in the park. My senses were already hunting. The sweet appetizer was finished. Now, it was time for the main course. It was time to destroy Tachibana Miki.