Archive of Our Own ^beta

 Kokichi liked to believe he was the smartest in the whole world.

 He passes all his tests with flying colors. He’s tricked some of the most intelligent people he’s ever come to know (e.g. The Hinata/Kamakura brothers, Ludenburg, Kirigiri, to name a few) at least one time. He once convinced the entire student body he was dead for an entire week, and then showed up the next entirely unprompted, ending up with him getting violently cursed out by more than three people.

 But he can get aggressively slapped with the reality of just how stupid he can be sometimes.

-

 This is the day his competitive nature kills him, he’s sure of it.

 Due to both their stubbornness and enemy-like relationship, Kokichi and one of his classmates, Miu (‘a pea-brained bitchlet’), tended to verbally assault each other. Quite viscously. They butted heads, locked horns, crossed swords, whatever. 

 It was during one of these admittedly unnecessary arguments, the latter proposed a bet to finally lay to rest who the smarter one was. The reward had been either the loser had to do what the victor told them to do for an entire day–applicable whenever, or simple bragging rights.

 Surely he was in-over his head, but he told himself he’s never lost a bet before and a streak was not about to begin today. Against his better judgment, and a very loud background voice of his screaming not to accept, Kokichi vehemently agreed.  

 He lost. Surprisingly.

 Kokichi had turned on his heel, and ran out of Miu’s lab in shock. Her lingering laughter and the hurried order to return to the research lab before nighttime swirled through his head the rest of the hours the sun was up. He’s sure he was acting differently, if the eyebrow raise he received from Rantaro and murderer girl and the concerned looks he got from piano girl and Shuichi were anything to go by, but he honestly couldn't give a damn at the time. The ‘order’ annoyed him, while the anticipation made it harder to breathe. 

 The tension within himself was rising, it was suffocating. He avoided any interaction with Miu as if she was a reincarnation of the bubonic plague, unable to confront her. Maybe he was angry, or frustrated. Maybe he was embarrassed, god-forbid.

 He was so put off by his loss that he didn't even realize he was in front of Miu’s research lab again, the evening nearly over with moonlight beginning to shed across the dorms. 

 Kokichi cursed himself out in his head; he could’ve totally just ditched the slut and hid out in somebody else's room in case she tried to track him down. It's like he's losing brain cells by the minute!

 Too late, he thought, as some invisible force possessed his hand and he pushed open the metal door to reveal Miu excitedly jotting down notes on the counter next to a pile of…

 Oh.

 “Hey slut, what the actual fuck is this?”

 The words left his mouth before his brain had the time to process what he was seeing. Miu snapped out her sporadic stupor, and glanced over to him across the expanse of her shoulder. She grinned smugly, looking him up and down as if he was wearing something other than his mental asylum get-up, and waved her hand in a come hither motion. 

 His mind might be reeling, but his body still hated being told what to do, so he reacted promptly and maybe a bit more genuine than he should've. Whatever, he’ll regret it later. “You, of all people, do not get to tell me what to do. Are you even a person? ‘Cause last time I checked, sextoys don't qualify as part of the population.” Defensive as ever, Kokichi spat out insult after insult.

 He witnessed Miu’s legs begging to shake, however her resolve didn't crumble how it normally would under the weight of his degradation. No, she continued her gesture with a devious smirk on her face while she addressed him, “Y’know, a shota with a brain like yours couldn't have forget the fuckin' bet we made, yea?!”

 Kokichi frowned for the first time in what felt like forever, not liking where this was going. “Yeah, so? The deal was the winner got bragging rights, not whatever kinky shit you're thinking up.”

 Miu’s face falls, and Kokichi did not like the look she gave him, like he was an actual idiot who was suffering from dementia. His mind bristled. He challenged her with a look of his own. They stared at each other for a few unusually silent minutes before Miu relented.

 “Are you bein’ for real?”

 He raised a brow, daring, “What?”

 “The deal was whoever won got braggin’ rights, or the loser had to do whatever I fuckin’ wanted. No fuckin’ way you forgot that!” Miu’s laughter rang in his head for a second time, and he was really starting to doubt his own intelligence.

 Fuck, how did he forget that?

 Trying to get out the mess he made for himself, he resorts to lies. He studied his freshly painted nails, feigning uninterest even if his heart was racing. He hummed, “No, I didn't forget. Just testin’ you.”

 He suddenly put his hands behind his back, and grinned wildly, no matter how fake it was. He prayed and hoped he wouldn't be subjected to what Miu wanted to do with him until she decided she was done. He knew it'd be worse than torture. Subconsciously, he also knew it was futile to resist.

 It didn't hurt to try, though.

 “And you tooootally failed!” He chuckled, while Miu shot him an annoyed and bewildered look, “Unpaid whores don't get to makeup stuff that never happened, y’know. Bad for business, and all that.” He cooed, toxic sweet and deviously manipulative.

 Knowing he was trying to play her for a fool, she retorted, confidence and loud, “I knew your lyin’ ass would try to pull somethin’ like that, so I, the gorgeous girl genius, recorded the bet,” and to Kokichi’s inner horror, she lifted up one of those small digital voice recorders she likely stored in her pocket. “Need to hear it again, asshole?”

 Without warning, she clicked the play button. Two familiar, but slightly scratchy and muffled, which confirmed Kokichi’s earlier suspicions, voices filled the vast room. They relayed the terms of their bet, both agreeing to practically being the other’s slave for an entire day. Kokichi's eyes widened for a brief moment, before returning to their previous aloof state.

 Unable to refute the undeniable proof, and to save himself from stammering to find an acceptable answer, he sighed and exaggerated his pouting, willing away his nervousness. “So...what? Whaddya’ want, slut?”

 Miu’s expression turned from self-assured to surprised, shocked he’d agree with little pushing. S’pose you can't lie when your own voice is telling you what you said. 

 She cleared her throat, and pointed with her free hand to the ground. “Get on your knees.”

 Ah. Well, shit.

 I don't want to, he thought, weighing the pros and cons of his actions, but if I don't, the bitch will definitely start blabbing about my ‘loss’ to everyone. And she has proof.

 He seethed, I cannot have my reputation ruined by a skivvy whore.

 Swallowing his fraying pride, as well as the last remaining edges of his dignity, he sank, indignation painted on his face like another mask of his.

 Miu, again, amazed at how easy it was to get him to comply, jumped at the opportunity. She teased him while fiddling with the pile of..gadgets she had lying on the countertop. Some phallic, some silicone. Kokichi could feel heat rising to his neck, but he wrenched it down to seem indifferent.

 “For a half-assed lolicon twink, you’re real obedient!” She laughed heartily, satisfaction heavy on her face when she found what she was looking for. She raised it up above her left shoulder, wiggling the round metal piece in his direction, “This baby’s got 5 modes!” It was...a collar? She was going to fucking collar him!?

 “No way, Josè.” He said, firm and commanding. All thoughts of putting on a fake persona vanished from his mind when faced with the prospect of being collared. “I’m not a fucking dog, Miu.”

 Miu laughed again, in that way people do when you don't understand what they're saying so they're going to explain it to you in the most condescending way possible. It pissed Kokichi more than the metal gorget did. “Probly’ not, but you act enough like one.” She took a step closer to his kneeling figure, and it took all his willpower not to flinch away, “You whine a crap ton to Suckhara; I’m surprised he hasn't shown you your fuckin’ place!” 

 The thought of Shuichi doing any of this to him made his face burn. 

 The knowing smirk on Miu’s face made him want to punch it off. He wasn't normally violent, sworn to death and such, but maybe, just this once, he’d find comfort in his thoughts.

 “Can’t believe I’m suckin’ up to a whore,” He mutters, relinquishing, choosing to deal with the consequences later. If he fucks up, big deal, he’ll lie about it and annoy her so bad it’ll be erased from her memory. Disregarding how embarrassing his position was, he referred to Miu stagnant, voice void of tone however a face too much of a labyrinth to make out what emotion was real and what was a projection of his lies. “Do your worst,” He drawls.

 He watched Miu almost fly to the sky with how ecstatic she was; she might grow wings, find freedom, and fly away into the heavens. Granted, she somehow found a way past the gates. He’s never heard of a cumslut pig going to heaven. It really is when fat pigs fly, huh.

 She stepped closer to him, expectant and holding none of that feverishness or ire she typically retains when in his presence. She looked bona fide…happy? 

 What the fuck, he said to himself, before Miu had not-so-very-gently clasped the collar around his throat, effectively hitching his breathing for a minute second. Miu studied his reaction with an intensity he’s only ever seen on her when hard at work whipping up new gadgets or inventions. 

 The collar rubbed at his Adam's apple, not too tight but also didn't leave enough room for more than two fingers to fit between his neck and the cotton-inlining. He gulped, feeling it against his throat. His hands instinctively reached for a way out, but couldn't find a hook or a button or any release really as they caressed the metal ridges. 

 He was restrained, and borderline owned. The feeling went to his neurons and it was like he just unlocked something his brain tried desperately to keep away from him. It left him breathless and hazy. His pants were slightly tight. He couldn't think.

 Huh?

 Kokichi blinked rapidly, urging the cloudiness in his head away. No. No fucking way. There's no way he could enjoy being collared like a fucking misbehaving pet. There's no conceivable way a Supreme Leader such as himself would enjoy something so demeaning and perverted.

 ..

 Right?

 And Miu, ever the same little shit he was, just had to force him to face a reality he’d rather forgo the rest of his life. “You like this, huh, Cockichi?” She mused, playing with a remote that had to have magically spawned into her hand. 

 “L-like isn't what I’d use,” He cursed himself for the stutter, but spat anyway, “I prefer ‘h-hating it so much I’d rather all my internal organs spontaneously implode and at the class trial, y-you get blamed and join me in hell.’” He staged a humored grin, despite his flushed skin and trembling hands speaking volumes louder than his words can. 

 Fuck his wavering voice. And fuck Miu for unrepairably damaging his pride.

 He didn't get a chance to see Miu frown deeply and crease her brows in distaste before she pressed a button on the remote, for just a second later, sheer agony racked his throat. He keened, always having been sensitive to pain, and tried to claw his way out of the collar to no avail. The pain stung continuously, like multiple hornets were penetrating the skin of his neck but their stingers were on fire. It burned. 

 He almost screamed, but the collar made it exceedingly difficult. Kokichi’s right leg thumped onto the floor as he squirmed, gritting his teeth. 

 It ran down and up his spine and made his abdominals tense up and relax repeatedly. His arms shook with a violent vigor. Any thoughts he might've had prior melted into mud as the torturous pain began to turn into sick, mortifying pleasure. He whimpered involuntarily; he could feel himself throb in his too restrictive pants.

 Kokichi didn't have the time to relish in it properly though, as the pain all but vanished and left behind phantom soreness. He panted, akin to the dog he boldly claimed he wasn't, trying and failing to regain his breath. He was surely debauched, with his hunched forward stature wheezing at Miu’s feet.

 He heard Miu scoff distantly, however wasn't yet coherent enough to grace her with a Kokichi-esque response. Absent-minded, he wiped around his mouth, not shocked but still displeased to find drool trailing off his thumb pad. Did one little shock fuck him up that badly?

 And on that note, did she shock-collar him?!

 “Whatever I want, ‘member, Cockichi?” Reading his mind or something, she reminded him dutifully, like he somehow suffered memory loss for the cause of his current situation. She looked way too amused for someone whose thighs were also twitching. 

 He let out his own huff of annoyance, grateful the rest of his fuzziness drifted off. “I-Is—..Is shocking me to d-death what you call a ‘reward’, horn-slug?” 

 Miu barked a laugh, “If anyone's the horn-slug right now, it's you, shota!” She inched her finger closer to the button, and admired fascinatingly as the front of Kokichi’s pants twitched, “Don’t think I missed that boner you popped gettin’ shocked. I thought that emo-virgin was a masochist, but you definitely take the cake!”

 Kokichi’s eyebrows furrowed, exasperation genuine, “I am not a masochist, unlike y—” His fury was only cut off by another wave of electrocution coursing through his body. Incoherent cries left his mouth instead of words. He choked, and let his desperation try a hand at removing the collar again, only to rip away his hands when the buzzing metal stung his fingertips.

 He heaved while the collar liquidized his will to fight, refute, or sull. The electricity lapped at his skin for much longer; Kokichi’s affront to Miu successful in annoying her, but unfortunately shocking him extensively. He gasped, curling into himself, hands aching with the need to pleasure himself, but mind too full of cotton at the agonizing zaps to fucking move. 

 Pain and Pleasure tilted on a seesaw, and he couldn't find a difference between the two. He shook like a leaf, body tenser than a wall but cock harder than a brick. It twitched at every twinge, and pulsated near painfully when it was over.

 Kokichi felt the collar shut off, and immediately relaxed his body, feeling aches spread across his body but namely in his throat. He couldn't speak, too fucked out and the collar tighter than it was despite not being messed with. His thighs trembled with affliction and pure need, and they were slightly hitting the ground similar to how a dog’s tail would slap the floor when excited. 

 He was sensitive to pain, he’s known so for a very long time, but he didn't know he liked it.

 Oh god.

 Ouma Kokichi liked pain.

 Ouma Kokichi was a fucking masochist. 

 His dick panged, as if it was trying to tell him it was obvious. Fuck you, he fleetingly thought when his brain finally stopped reeling, I couldn't’ve known this. 

 (Something told him though, that he'd always been into being degraded. Being put in his rightful place. Beaten, scorned, humiliated. He found pleasure in pain.

 He never spoke to a single soul about how excited he got when Harukawa had strangled him after exposing her for being a dirty killer, but his own soul wouldn't let him forget how he rubbed one out in his personal bathroom to the fading feeling of vicious hands around his throat.)

 Kokichi closed his eyes, arched his back, fingers tightly woven into the fabric of his pants, and bent forward to rest his forehead on the cold, icy surface of the research lab. He momentarily forgot about the other presence in the room and let himself go. It’d be more accurate to say he melted and his devious, impish skin shedded to reveal a more vulnerable, nervous side. Something inside his head shattered, and left a new being on that lab floor.

 He tilted his head up slightly, locking eyes with Miu’s curious and lustful ones. His lilac eyes usually filled with faux innocence held a needy glint, pathetic and a tentative level above outright begging, but not for long. He breathed, and hoped his expression alone would help Miu figure out what he wanted.

 It wasn't, either because Miu was too stupid or too high on the power she had over Kokichi for once.

 “Need somethin’, dipshit?” Miu’s amused voice cut through the haze of Kokichi's mind, but unlike his customary habits, he didn't have the heart nor the drive to brutalize her for it. 

 He needed to cum, and he needed it now. 

 He whined, deep in his constricted throat, shocking both him and his tormentor. His body moved on its own, and raised itself to clasp his hands on the back of Miu’s knees. He rested his cheek on a freshly-shaved leg, continuing to look up at Miu with authentic nonverbal pleading. 

 Any hesitance or surprise Miu felt disappeared almost instantly when she realized how much Kokichi needed her; the proof being his hard-on pressed against her shin and his violet eyes screaming at her. She grinned, confident and euphoric and shamelessly proud her plan worked, ruffling the rampant tendrils of his hair affectionately. “Who’s the whore now, huh? Don't worry, this gorgeous girl genius will give you everythin’ you’ll ever want or need,” She paused, testing the waters, “puppy.”

 A loud, breathless whine of agreement from Kokichi was all she needed to drag him to the plush couch that was sitting in the corner of her research lab.

-

 When Kokichi said he's been slapped with how dumb he can be before, he never meant fucked dumb.

 “Ye-yeah, f-fuck! Right fuckin’ there, p-puppy. Doin’ s-so good!” 

 But he supposes he can excuse this instance.

 Kokichi's fingers dug tight into the pudgy skin of Miu’s thighs, leveraging his tongue deeper inside Miu's cunt. He swirled his tongue, lapped at her inner walls, and mewled at her careless praise. He wouldn't lie here, not now; his mistress didn't taste too bad and he was eager to savor her juices. 

 Oh, right. When Miu had dragged him to the front of the couch, she had tightened her grip on his hair, slapped him across the face, stripped him, and demanded to be called ‘mistress’ when speaking, even if it seemed impossible to.

 Kokichi, a sane part of him, refuted this and insulted her image, typical. All it took was 15 seconds of electrocution and he was back to a whimpering, moaning mess. 

 Pre-cum dripped down his dick onto his stomach, while said stomach clenched in arousal, frustrated he wasn't allowed to touch himself. He was more than okay servicing his mistress but his need was starting to hurt. 

 He glanced up at his mistress, drool and spit running down his chin while he moved subtly to suck on her swollen clit. The corner of his lips ticked upwards as he watched his mistress yowl in pleasure, pulling his head further into her lap. He couldn't breathe, and it only added to the agonizing haze coating his mind. Her broken cries of ‘puppy’ and ‘good boy’ made his imaginary tail wag, but had his cock weeping. 

 He whined at the feeling of his hair being pulled, which in turn sent a shiver throughout Miu’s body. He plunged his tongue back into Miu’s wet cavern, exploring akin to a cave diver. She yelled out a curse and warned him she was close. Kokichi hummed, and opened his mouth wider, ready and anticipating.

 “S-Shit! S-Such a g—good dog, y—Ah! y-yeah? G-gonna swallow m-mistress’ c-cum?” She shook and moaned, moving her other hand to grasp onto Kokichi’s locks as well, “F-filthy fuckin’ p-puppy I got, h-huh?”

 Kokichi keened and nodded with a genuine eagerness neither of them knew he possessed, eyes rolling to the back of his head when his hair was tugged. Mistress wailed, and forced his head to stay on her pussy. She came, wetness coating Kokichi’s lips, chin, and a part of the peach fuzz coating his upper lip. Kokichi tried his damndest to swallow as much as he could, lest he be a bad boy. Mistress doesn't like bad boys.

 Miu’s body relaxed, bones felt like they were made of gelatin and muscles more refreshed than ever. She didn't know how much she needed that ‘til she had it. Suddenly, she hissed, and was quick to push Kokichi’s lapping tongue away from in between her legs. Miu took a second to admire a sight she’ll probably never see again; Kokichi not at all composed as he usually shows himself, eyes near crossed and clouded with arousal, panting softly with saliva plus Miu’s own fluid dripping down the side of his mouth. He whimpered, dejected, and cocked his head to the side in confusion, like a real dog.

 Miu, laughing softly at the thought, reassured him, “Overstim. It’s not you, puppy.”

 Kokichi eased at that, huffing and leaning back in to rest his head on Miu’s thighs. She raked her fingers through his octopus-like hair, admiring for once how purple it really is in the light and how it glistened with life.

 The lab smelled strongly of sex with the tiniest pinch of burnt skin (her fault). The atmosphere was tight and exciting, but at the same time, gentle and trusting. Kokichi trusted her enough to let her see this side of him, that's gotta count for something, right? Fuck the bet; Kokichi needed somebody to care for him. She feels lucky enough to be the one to do so.

 Miu reveled in her post-nut glow, and honestly was ready to pass out, until she felt a wet jerk against her shin. She heard soft, labored breathing beneath her. She looked down at Kokichi’s yet downcast person, eyes presumably closed and body quivering. She hummed, questioningly, looking over his back. 

 Only to feel extremely giddy, not too far from a child on christmas eve, when she saw Kokichi not so secretly humping his still hard cock onto the smoothness of her leg. 

 She cooed, scratching at Kokichi’s scalp and relishing in the pleased whine he lets out at the feeling, “Still so horny like the fuckin’ slutty dog you are.” She ‘tsk’d, “Fine. If you're sooo horny, get yourself off, puppy; no help from this dreamy hot bod’!” 

 Kokichi whimpered at that, sad, but fueled with new vigor. He was allowed to get off, thank the heavens above. He quickly readjusted himself, hovering over Miu's slip-ons. He wrapped his hands around her calf, cradling it to his chest. 

 He sped up his ministrations, fucking onto his mistress’ skin like it was a bitch in heat waiting to be filled up with pups. Except, there wasn't no bitch and no pups. It was just pure desperation to cum. 

 He gums ached with the urge to bite. 

 He wriggled his hips, whining and moaning and whimpering when the heat in his stomach stirred histrionically. He barked, maybe once or twice, growing more animalistic the closer he got to a climax. He squeezed his eyes shut, legs shaking with want, need, and all of the above. 

 It felt good, too good.

 But it wasn't enough.

 Kokichi's pace started to slow down against his initial will, hiccuping on a sob when his hips came to a steady halt. He let out a pained ‘arf’, even if he knew his decision was for a good cause. He took a deep breath and nuzzled his head into Miu’s lower thigh, drawing her attention.

 “Hm?” Miu prompted. “Why’d you stop? Thought you wanted to get off.” She nudged his erection, earning her a little punched out noise she smirked at. 

 Kokichi tightened his grip on her calf for a second, calming himself. Words. He needed words. He can do that. Words weren't hard, even if puppies don't usually talk. It's for a good cause. 

 Determined, he raised his head, clouded lilac meeting clear gravel blue. Kokichi opened his mouth before promptly shutting it. He grunted, vexed by his own incapability to speak. He opened it again, and to his relief, words started to flow out of his voice box. Cracked, wobbly ones, but still, words; eureka!

 “M-m…M-Mistress. C-can pup–py f-fuck…you?”

 Kokichi twitched, unsettled by the blank expression that fell over his mistress’ face. He was scared he said something wrong, so he scrambled about to fix it, “P-pup sorryy, Mistress! D-did puppy do..bad?” His voice turned meek at the end, squeaky and frankly terrified.

 He didn't want to be bad. Being bad meant Mistress didn't like him. Puppies were supposed to be good. Supposed to be good boys. Not bad, dirty dogs like Kokichi. He whimpered, ducking his head in shame, imaginary tail hanging low and ears flat to the head. “Sorry, Mistress…” He mumbled, waiting but fearing an answer.

 Miu sprung to life at his apology, contrary to Kokichi’s fears, and she laughed exuberantly. She found great humor in his questionnaire. She cupped his jaw rather gently for her demeanor to peck his nose, much to his delight. Kokichi smiled tiny; his mistress was pleased.

 “‘Course you can, puppy! Jus’ didn't know your ass’d be into service topping.” She laughed again at her own joke as she patted the spot next to her on the couch, “Up, boy.”

 Kokichi grunted, happy his muddled brain was useful for a change, using his shaky arms to lift himself up onto the spring-shot couch. Satisfied in completing the order, he turned to his mistress, expression open and honest and waiting for a command of sorts. 

 At his attention, Miu’s assertive appearance unexpectedly turned shy, resigned. The picture she painted of self-reliance crumbled to show the epitome of haughty nervousness. She twirled her thumbs around themselves a second, and dropped them the next. She took a few deep breaths, one after the other, as if she was just now trying to compose herself. 

 Kokichi, unsure what brought upon this behavior, whined quizzically. A traitorous part of himself whispered, ‘If she's trying to calm herself now, what the fuck was that earlier?’

 Miu closed her eyes, breathing through her nose, willing her chronic trepidation elsewhere, and with a sleight show of hands, bared a clear bottle and a small, round package of latex in her left and right hands respectively. Kokichi, still confused, whined softer, now pacified that his mistress wasn't in pain, but reticent. He eyed the items, then Miu’s face, then back to the products. 

 Miu, for all her ‘gorgeous girl genius’ and ‘most intelligent inventor in the world’ talk, could be quite the dumbass at times. She readily opened her eyes at Kokichi’s doglike sound, took a look at him, and it was like a lightbulb flashed in her head. 

 Right. I have to do everything.

 Spurred on by a discovery she honestly should've remembered, she commanded Kokichi to lay on his back, arms to the side and legs as motionless as he can manage. He obeyed, frantic but exhilarated. In this position, his erection, which was still stiff despite his previous discontentment, was on full display, dripping pre down its length.

 It was of an average length, with a less than average girth. Makes sense given Kokichi’s appearance was short and lean; that missing height and weight had to go somewhere. 

  Pushing her consistent anxiety down, she took his cock in a vice grip, feeling secure when it jumped in her hold. She gave him tentative strokes, thumbing around the tip and the crown to leave him craving rougher treatment. Miu grinned, mean in nature, when Kokichi’s moans reached an octave unlike himself. She wanted to play with him, leave him aching and shaking with desire, fiddle with his head like he did everyone else’s on a daily basis; it was her reward after all. A taste of his own medicine never hurt anyone – except him.

 She breathed, reached down into her pocket for the remote, and pressed down on the level three second button without warning to the victim.

 An immeasurable wave of pain surged through his small frame. It was nauseating. He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. Alarm bells rang off in his head, but he couldn't hear them with how he cramped up and quaver. He couldn't hear anything. It stung. Bad. His head was sure to pop off his body. The torture was exponentially worse than the last, bolts of lightening targeting sensitive spots causing him to howl. His heart was pumping at illegal speeds and his breathing irregular.

 He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to continue. He could feel the unyielding grasp of his mistress’ calloused hand around his cock. 

 It was hot. So hot it confused his stomach, whether he was sick or agonizingly tillitated. It steamed. Pleasure swirled through his head, while the collar burned into the outside of his neck. He gasped, convulsing not unlike a fish out of water.

 He yelped, mind retreating into the faraway headspace he was drifting off in earlier. His tongue lolled out his mouth, though his painful shivers and stimulated wails never ceased. “M-Mistress!” Kokichi moaned, eyes threatening to roll back. 

 Miu chuckled and released the button, surveying with idle curiosity as Kokichi’s whole body dropped onto the couch, his arched back straightening out hurt to look at. He was almost silent save for his strained respiration; a sight to behold. 

 It was such a contrasting view to his usual nonplussed attitude, Miu had to force herself not to grab a camera and take a lasting photo. Despite not even cumming once, Kokichi looked like he had been utterly ravished. His deathly pale skin was splashed with a permanent tint of pink around the base of his neck and the sides of his cheeks. His entire figure was shaking with the effort of not moving, just like she had ordered. His chest rose and fell quivery with every puff of air passing through his mouth. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes unblinking and unfocused, reeling from what seemed to be a ruined orgasm. 

 Miu raised a brow at that. Kokichi was that close? She might've had her suspicions that he was a masochist, but she didn't notice how much he really rejoiced in being tortured. 

 While Kokichi was collecting what fragile glass pieces of a mental he had left, Miu worked quicker than she ever has. She rose onto her knees, propping herself over Kokichi’s wobbly legs. She hurriedly took the condom she kept clutched in her right and ripped the package open, tossing the plastic someplace either. She rolled the latex down the expanse of Kokichi’s dick, waiting for a reaction.

 Upon receiving little to nothing, she hummed and popped open the bottle of lube, turning it over so it could drip down onto Kokichi’s covered dick. She didn't bother warming it; puppy brained or not, he could survive a bit of cold lubricant. She did smirk at the hiss that escaped him, though.

 “If only you could see your face right now," She taunted, mentally preparing herself to ride the absolute fuck out of the most infuriating little shit of their class, “You look real fuckin' dumb.”

 Kokichi nodded submissively, not really caring about the insulting tone embedded into the words, a stupidly endearing smile teetering on the side of his lips. “Dumb for you, mistress.” 

 An actual smile appeared on Miu’s face, and she reached up with her clean hand to ruffle Kokichi’s messy bird nest of hair. She laughed when he leaned into the gentle touch, “Damn right. Good boy.” 

 Kokichi keened from the praise, and at the same time Miu decided to lift her hips and slam onto Kokichi’s cock, drawing out pleasured groans from the both of them. God, she was tight. Her walls squeezed just right against him. The heat and the grip and the pressure from his prior closeness nearly made him burst. The fuzziness slowly started to overtake his mind again. He whined when he bottomed out, while she only breathed a content sigh. 

 Kokichi’s eyes sluggishly trailed up to his mistress, appreciating her for the first time as his brain wasn't filled with ways to defend himself, but unadulterated reverence. She was analogous to a Greek goddess; Aphrodite would be proud of her. She was mostly clothed while Kokichi was as bare as the day he was born sans the collar he adorned, symbolizing the power she had over him. She was free, and he was owned by her. Kokichi gulped, unworthy. 

 The haze worsened when Miu began bouncing on his lap, lifting her hips up and down with practiced ease. Kokichi's breath hitched, pleasure stinging his head and wrapped around his heart, though it felt like it was pulsing in his dick instead. His hips tensed, strained with the urge to flip them over and pound into the tight wet heat of his mistress’ pussy. But he wasn't allowed to yet, so he settled on yipping and groaning when Miu would suddenly stop temporarily and then drop herself down with heavy force. 

 Good puppies aren't impatient; good puppies can wait.

  Miu wasn't unaffected either; sweat pooled down her neck, and her thighs were shaking due to the effort. The stretch painful but pleasurable in its own right. Her clit throbbed, and her hands would clench around Kokichi’s surprisingly broad shoulders when his dick would hit a bundle of nerves that made her cunt spasm. She would bite her bottom lip hard to stop noises from reaching Kokichi's ears and reviving his dormant ego, but the endeavor was proving to be useless as small gasps and sighs would vamoose her lips against her will.

 She broke when Kokichi’s glossed-over eyes made eye contact with hers’, filled with a desire and passion she’s never seen in them before, and his wobbly voice called out to her, “P-p-please–ngh! Let p-puppy—ah!—make you feel–mm–good, m-mistress. Please!”

 She cried out quietly, leaving slight dent marks into Kokichi’s collarbone from her pedicured nails. Miu thought about it for half a second, and made her decision: “Y-yeah, okay. Go f-fuckin’ wild, puppy.”

 Kokichi's eyes shone with a renewed robustness; his small hands roughly gripped Miu’s hips, planting his feet down on the surface of the couch. He sat up slightly, just enough to lean his head into the crook of Miu’s neck. He whispered, “T-thank you, mistress.” The cold air of his breath made Miu shiver on his cock, causing him to growl quietly.

 He raised his hips, slamming up into the moist cavern of her pussy. Whining, he nuzzled further into her neck, but didn’t stop his ministrations. He used his hands to lift Miu's waist to meet his hips in rhythm to his thrusts, reaching deeper into Miu than he was earlier. Miu choked on her own spit, eyes crossing each other in bliss, hedonism bleeding from every pore on her body. 

 Kokichi wasn't a virgin, far from it, but he's never been broken down to the most vulnerable parts of himself like this. He’s never been squashed like a bug before or made to feel inferior to someone else as he always made sure he had total control of any situation he landed himself in. Being treated like he was nothing more than a replaceable dog tripled every sensation.

 The hot tightness of Miu’s cunt, her moans right next to his ear, the neediness of his own whines, the giving skin of Miu’s waist. It made him want to bite, howl, bark, a mix of all three. He wanted to claim Miu as his, just as she had with the collar burns. 

 He’s never wanted someone so animalistically before, but he was too far gone to worry about the consequences. He could feel a burning hot concoction stirring in his lower abdomen, his cock twitching in anticipation. He was getting close; he should warn his mistress. That's what good puppies do, is what his fuddled mind supplied helpfully.

 “M-mistress,” He whimpered, thrusting up roughly just to hear Miu moan ‘puppy’ in ecstasy, “I—I’m, ah! C-close!”

 Miu groaned, but grinned at Kokichi’s admission, her competitive essence unable to let the opportunity to tease him further pass, “A-already? Damn puppy, y-you’re—Fuck! Real f-fuckin’ insatiable, huh?” 

 He nodded maybe a little too fast, too close to his climax to feel embarrassed he couldn't last longer, and tightened his grip on Miu’s love handles. “C-can puppy cum? Please? I-I’ve been good!” He whined, high-pitched and nearly parallel to a real dog, “Puppy’s been good, r-right?”

 Miu huffed, wrapping one of her quivering arms around Kokichi's neck, trailing that hand to wrap itself in Kokichi’s dark unruly curls, “Y-yeah, real good. G-good puppy. You’ve been–ah!–good. C-cum, boy.” She rambled mindlessly, her other hand drifting down to rub harsh circles around her pulsing clit. 

 Her permission and the feeling of familiar tugging on his hair pushed him over the edge, slamming her down onto her lap one final time. He dug his aching teeth into her shoulder to conceal what would’ve been a very loud bark, spilling into the condom wrapped around his dick. He distantly heard Miu yelp in pain, but all he could focus on was the stars and all the white he was blinded with. 

 Kokichi's brain was scrambled, jigsaw puzzles had found their synonymous twin, and he could feel his zooming heart in his constricted throat. He rocked his hips a little, riding out his orgasm in hopes to regain his bearings. Miu clenched around him, reaching her own climax and he felt his own kind of pride that he was able to do that. He made someone feel good. A patch of dark blue hair appeared beneath the clouds in his head, and he whimpered, unbeknownst to him. 

 He came to Miu scratching at his scalp, and instead of being on his lap, she was in between his jelly legs. There was a purple blemish of his own doing on her right shoulder, and a good portion of her cheeks were painted pink. Kokichi, freshly slapped by clarity, glared at her, embarrassment and synergy flowing through him. He grabbed her hand with his weak one, and stared dead in her eyes. “That bet ‘reward’ did not entail all that.”

 Miu’s cheeky grin was the worst possible answer to his accusation. 

-

 “Soooo…puppy, huh?”

 “Don’t.”

 “You, of all people, have a praise kink–!”

 “Not a fucking word, bitch.”

 “And you're a masochist!”

 “Miu.”

 “Wait ‘til Cuckhara hears about this!”

 “MIU!”