Let's Ride
“Hey, Sachiko, watcha up to?”
Sachiko looked up toward the source of the obnoxiously loud voice blasting into her gambling den and grinned. “Midari, always lovely to see you around. Just enjoying how Kirairi runs this place–it’s so entertaining, isn’t it?”
She stepped down on the back of the Fido crouched by her feet. It was already covered in bruises from when she had kicked him aside for menial disturbances ranging from looking her in the eye to stumbling in her path. It made a poor attempt at masking its pained groan.
“Why are you doing this to me?” it choked out.
“Shut it, Fido,” Sachiko said dismissively, “You shouldn’t of have been so arrogant. Can you guess what he said to me, Midari?”
Midari drummed her fingers on her chin exaggeratedly. “Hmm… I’m guessing either he’s too ignorant to take things seriously or he’s stupid enough to think he’s got the smarts to beat you. No one dares to take entertaining entertaining bets around here, really.”
“Because not everyone is as much of an adrenaline junkie or a masochist as you,” Sachiko retorted, arching an eyebrow. While she did find Midari’s antics entertaining to watch as a bystander due to her own tendencies toward the avant garde, she would never engage in such risky activities. Russian roulette, losing fingers–losing an eyes–that was all up Midari’s alley. “But hear this–this new student challenges me for the ‘sake of his friend’s honour.’ Quite absurd, don’t you think?”
Midari sauntered along the red carpet leading up the gambler’s table. Most students walking along the carpet would leave a housepet, but not her. “Honour? That can’t last here,” she laughed.
The den consisted of a simple set up. Students would enter and be forced to walk down the blood-red carpet and sit down at the gambler’s table. Challengers sit on uncomfortable wooden chairs, their back facing the door, whereas Sachiko sat on the other side in an expensive black leather chair on the other side. Midari thought it was a fitting domain for someone as elegant and ruthless as Sachiko.
“Of course honour can, it’s pride that can’t.”
Shelves of obscure memorabilia ran parallel on each side of the room, lighting up the otherwise dark room. Midari loved toying around with the delicate little pieces. Medals, trinkets, shiny things that happened to catch her eye. It would irk Sachiko, which was fun to watch.
“Maybe you’re right,” Midari shrugged, “And speaking of which, there’s another newbie you might take interest in.”
“I’m not interested in doing Kirari’s dirty work.”
Midari laughed jovially. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just think you’d like to take a look at her. Take my word for it.”
Her singular eye gleamed with amusement.
“Fine,” Sachiko sighed, feigning disinterest. “What’s the kid’s name?”
Mikura Sado. A short, fiery girl with a messy red mane of hair that seemed as if it was colour coded with the Hyakkou Academy colours. She was brash and cruel, but knew when to bite her tongue or play coy. She was almost as ruthless as Sachiko herself when it came to dragging arrogant upstarts down to the level of Fidos and Mittens, but she interestingly took no interest in her defeated opponents once they became housepets.
At first, Sachiko merely thought of Mikura as the occasional lucky gambler–not nearly skilled enough to kick out any of the elite students, but enough to be a menace of the lower and intermediate levels, and perhaps even some seniors. She didn’t have many friends, only those she existed alongside with; she seemed to be a wild card, relishing in the atypical environment that was the Academy. But that was what Mikura was.
Months of training and routine under Sachiko’s sadistic hand left her molded into quite the loyal pet. Obedience was a difficult thing to instil into such a rowdy alpha, but that was what made the process fun. However, no matter how much training Sachiko had invested in, she hadn’t prepared for this one.
Sachiko took a deep inhale of the crisp, winter air, her hand gripped on the car door in front of her. She had better not open this to see her stupid pet with her pants around her ankles, damn Kirari for delaying her with her useless relationship issues.
“How are we doing here, Mittens?” she announced mockingly, bracing herself for the worst. A blast of cold air hit her face as she opened the car door. Sachiko’s eyes widened at the sight that laid in front of her: Mikura was curled in fetal position, her face buried into her blazer and one of her hands grasped onto her collar. Her own blazer was strewn haphazardly across the seat like crumpled piece of paper and her white button-up laid on top of it like a wet towel with how sweat-soaked it looked.
“Juraku-sama!” Mikura’s eyes shone bright even while they struggled to focus on Sachiko’s figure looming at the doorway. She scrambled into an upright position. “Y-you’re back.”
“Astute observation,” Sachiko grumbled, cautiously lowering herself into the car. The car’s filter system thankfully lessened some of the rut pheromones that permeated the backseat, but it was still enough to make Sachiko scrunch her nose up in disgust. Delicately pinching Mikura’s discarded clothing between her index finger and her thumb, she waved it accusingly in front of the alpha. “Now, care to explain this to me.”
Mikura visibly deflated in front of her in quite an amusing fashion. “I… I got hot. I still kept myself decent. ” Mikura weakly motioned at the plain black bra that remained on her chest.
The poor girl’s skin was completely flushed a heated pink, little goosebumps raised all over with how cold it was in the car. Sachiko smirked, an idea already forming in her head.
Putting down Mikura’s clothing, she shut the car door with a loud slam. She rapped quickly at the divider between the backseat and the front seats to signal the chauffeur to begin heading home.
“Decent, hmm? Why don’t you come sit here, Mittens?” Sachiko purred, motioning toward her lap.
“Are you serious?” Mikura asked dubiously despite looking as if her even hope and prayer would be answered if Sachiko allowed her to do so.
“Are you questioning me?”
“No ma’am,” Mikura grumbled. She warily crawled closer to Sachiko, nearly tumbling off the seat when the chauffeur took a particularly sharp right turn.
“Careful, pet,” Sachiko murmured, reaching under Mikura’s arms and lifting her up and onto one of her legs.
“Ah!” Mikura yelped as Sachiko wedged her thigh between her legs, intentionally pressed against her over sensitive lower region. “J-Juraku-sama!”
Mikura shifted desperately on her precarious perch in a futile bid to relieve herself of Sachiko’s teasing, but Sachiko made sure to keep an iron grip on the wriggling alpha. In terms of brute strength, Mikura was stronger by a landslide, but in these types of situations, she was as pliable as putty in the older girl’s hands.
“Keep your hands behind your back,” Sachiko ordered her, watching as Mikura reluctantly positioned her arms behind her back before pressing the younger girl against her front, thereby pinning the alpha’s arms between their bodies. She then slipped one of her hands around Mikura’s throat, thumbing circles against Mikura’s skin while withholding the laughter bubbling up within herself at feeling Mikura’s throat bob uncertainly against the leather wrapped around her neck. It was simply so fun making the younger girl squirm. The scent of rut pheromones thickened in the confined space. Heat admittedly began to pool in Sachiko’s gut in reaction, but her usual suppressants would prevent her from being too affected.
“Now, if this is what you consider decent I think I should be rather surprised, pet.” Mikura jerked to the side wanting to try and turn around to face the omega holding her in place, but she knew better than to try to defy her master. “But what should I expect from an alpha like you who gets off from being collared and leashed by an omega?”
Mikura grunted in disagreement but her sound of discontent transitioned into a surprised gasp as Sachiko punctuated her statement by placing her free hand on her exposed stomach. The defined edges of her nails traced over the toned surface, feeling as each of the muscles spasmed under the contact. “I— I don’t,” Mikura tried to protest.
“Really now?” Sachiko moved her hand under Mikura’s bra, easily bypassing the younger girl’s sole flimsy defence against her. Just as she expected, both of Mikura’s nipples were erect and painfully sensitive.
“J-Juraku,” Mikura whined pitifully, torn between tearing herself away and pushing into Sachiko’s touch.
“What?” Sachiko asked rhetorically, her voice laden with false innocence. She deftly rolled one of the pebbled buds in her fingers before harshly pinching it.
“Hngh—!” Tears welled in the alpha’s eyes at the pain that shot through her body. But more shameful was the way her cock twitched inside her pants, which Sachiko could feel against her thigh.
“You know I’ve trained you not to be dishonest, pet,” Sachiko sighed. She released Mikura’s neck to focus on smoothly circling the alpha’s areolas, only just permitting her fingers to brush up momentarily against the sides of the hardened nipples. Mikura relented, arching her back as she began grinding against Sachiko’s thigh. “You like this, don’t you?”
Mikura paid her no mind as she continued, digging her own nails into her wrists as she tried to keep her arms in place.
“Pay attention!” Sachiko suddenly pressed down hard on the tops of both of Mikura’s nipples, jerking the alpha out of her aroused stupor.
“Haaah— ah, what?”
“Answer me, pet, and be honest about it.”
“Fine!” Mikura growled, “I’m in rut and you’re touching me, of course I’m fucking horny.”
“Good girl. Well, if you enjoy this then I suppose I’ll make it easier for the both of us.” Sachiko removed both of her hands and reached behind Mikura’s back. She deftly unclipped the garment before Mikura could voice her displeasure and tossed the bra into the trunk.
“H— hey!” Mikura scrambled to cover herself, but Sachiko held her tightly in place. “What’re you doing?!”
“Hmm? I thought my little pet liked getting her nipples teased, no?” Sachiko teased, returning to playing with Mikura’s breasts. She peppered the sensitive brown nubs with feather light touches, so unlike her usual harshness, but she knew that Mikura would know better than to take it for granted. “The windows are tinted and there’s a divider. No one’s here but us.”
“Still, Juraku-sama…” Mikura broke out of position and pawed at Sachiko’s wrists. “Let go of me you perv!”
Sachiko scowled. That behaviour just wouldn’t do.
“Perv, hmm?” Sachiko questioned, her tone deadly calm.
She watched as her words flew right over Mikura’s head, the alpha being too occupied trying and miserably failing to tear herself away from Sachiko’s torturous touch. Even from behind Sachiko could see reflected, albeit blurrily, in the glossy black divider how Mikura flailed about. Her eyes flitted back and forth about the car, her gaze never landing for more than the briefest of moments before being torn away to some other spot.
“And to think you were starting to be obedient,” Sachiko lamented, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She dragged her hands down Mikura’s body, making sure to leave bright red lines down her stomach. Mikura’s eyes widened comically as Sachiko gripped onto her hip and slid her other hand past her waistband. The omega promptly nestled her it against her hard-on. Letting out a low growl, a small spurt of precum spilled from Mikura’s tip and leaked through her boxers, already damp from their activities.
Mikura froze completely, albeit slightly trembling. She frantically met Sachiko’s lustful gaze in her reflection. Sachiko grinned sharply–she could tell the younger girl was confused, panicking as her rut began to affect her more and more, her alpha nature competing with her submissiveness.
“Looks like you’re finally paying attention, mutt.” Sachiko sneered, watching Mikura tilt her head back in bliss as she shifted her bulge in her palm. She could feel the disgusting heat from it on her palm and the way it twitched against the fabric, straining to be released, and the sticky sensation of the alpha’s precum stained her fingertips. It was absolutely vile and dirty, and it made Sachiko want to see Mikura completely ruined by her own body.
“Juraku…” Mikura groaned, wanting to resist, yet all she could do was lift her hips against Sachiko’s hand and try to grind against the thigh placed in between her legs when the older girl began thumbing her hard-on. “Let me get my clothes back on.”
“I don’t think so,” Sachiko retorted, reaching up and grabbing her by her jaws to force her to look ahead at her blurry image. “You know you like this perverted stuff, don’t you? You’re humping me like a stray dog and practically begging me to fuck you in a car, your top off and your pathetic cock almost out of your pants.”
Mikura whined loudly at Sachiko’s words, breath hitched, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood when Sachiko began targeting her tip. The drag of damp fabric against the sensitive surface was too rough for her to handle, sending waves of pleasure and pain through her body, which was never an unfamiliar sensation when around Sachiko. “I– I’m– I don’t… You’ve got the wrong idea.”
Sachiko chuckled lowly, tightening her hold on Mikura’s jaw. “Really now?”
“Yeah, yeah you do,” Mikura breathed out, her tongue hesitantly swiping her lower lip.
“Then why were you begging for me to return earlier? If I remember correctly, you were the one saying you needed me,” Sachiko said, leaning down and blowing lightly against the nape of Mikura’s neck. She watched as Mikura flinched when she reached a certain spot. Sachiko smiled to herself–Mikura was too easy to read, she would never be able to beat Sachiko at her own game. The slight taste of salt spread across her tongue as Sachiko bit down on Mikura’s neck, relishing in the way Mikura thrashed about in response. “Why are you rutting into my hand, then?”
Mikura panted softly, her eyes glazed over and hazy. At this point, she herself was starting to accept that she was fighting a losing battle.
“See? You’re nothing but a filthy mutt who needs her master.” Sachiko gave her trapped bulge a firm squeeze before carefully shifting it so that it lay slanted against Mikura’s thigh, the tip nearly reaching the waistband. She began roughly palming it, the feeling turning more painful than pleasurable as the fabric ran across her length.
Mikura gasped, the sensitive underside of her cock feeling raw under Sachiko’s roughness. “J- Juraku, that hurts!”
“Good,” Sachiko shot back. “Because we both know you’re just a slut for pain.” She punctuated her statement with a harsh flick on Mikura’s nipple, and she would’ve liked to think that was why Mikura’s cock flexed upward into her palm a moment later. Without Sachiko’s hand around her jaw, Mikura's head lolled backward as she whined, but Sachiko knew she was right from the way the alpha continued rutting her hips back and forth in search of more friction.
“Fuuuuck,” Mikura groaned. She never expected Sachiko to be this into it. With how Sachiko seemed so above everyone else, which she especially emphasised for alphas as “feral” creatures, Mikura more so expected to be locked away with some tissues for a few days. But now Sachiko was playing with her on her lap and she evidently wanted Sachiko’s touch more than anything. “Fu— shit! Please ah—!”
“Aw,” Sachiko cooed, smiling wide while tears began welling up in Mikura’s eyes. She planted a trail of fleeting kisses along Mikura’s neck—little ones here and there, another on the leather strip of ownership wrapped around it—a fluttering relief from the incessant stimulation she was forcing upon her. “You’re too dumbed down to speak, aren’t you?”
But the moment was short-lived. Suddenly, the car jolted to the side, jerking Sachiko into her surroundings. Familiar scenery came into sight and the front gates of the Juraku household soon came into and passed out of view. Sachiko cursed under her breath at the inconvenience, eyeing the half-delirious alpha situated on her lap. They had gotten too carried away, and hopefully Mikura had enough coherency left to drag herself inside to the bedroom.
Mikura seemed to pick up on Sachiko’s disgruntledness as she realised where they were, eliciting a frightened whimper. Yet she continued subtly grinding against Sachiko’s hands, silently pleading for more.
“Alright,” Sachiko said, feeling the car come to a rolling stop outside the front, “Are you ready to get out, pet?”
“What? You… you can’t be serious!” The reality of their situation must have hit because Mikura tore herself out of Sachiko’s grasp and flipped around to face her. “I am not going out there like this and you can’t make me. I don’t care what you call me here but I’m not going to just… to just you know—! Walk around like this !” She halted her jumbled protest, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
Sachiko stared back, letting loose an incredulous laugh. Mikura was simply so amusing sometimes. “Ha! It might not be in your best interest to give me ideas, pet. Maybe I’ll drag you out of here with your leash and make you walk around the house. What do you think of that?”
Mikura scurried over to the other side of the car, a measly arm’s length away from the older girl. The poor thing looked absolutely terrified, not that Sachiko blamed her. It would be quite fun to humiliate the alpha by dragging her around half naked around her own house, reminding her that she was owned by an omega. Nothing more than a toy to use and play with. And she’d get off to it.
“Stop being so dramatic,” Sachiko chided her, simply leaning over and clipping a leash onto Mikura’s collar. “Come over here.”
She tugged on the lead, dragging the alpha back onto her lap.
“What’re you—?!” Mikura writhed around like a wriggling puppy in Sachiko’s arms.
“Watch it, mutt,” Sachiko grunted when a stray elbow caught against her side. “Do you want your clothes back on or not?”
“Hmph, whatever,” Mikura grumbled.
Sachiko rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Mikura’s white button-up uniform was crumpled and damp from sweat, but it would have to do. She picked it up off of the car seat and was met with Mikura’s quiet conceding of the situation. The damp fabric clung to Mikura’s form as Sachiko methodically eased each of her arms into the sleeves.
A strange atmosphere settled over the pair. Sachiko didn’t know quite what to make of it, and that unsettled her. There was something unfamiliarly intimate with the way Mikura was seated and trembling in her lap.
Mikura’s back fit snugly against her front, and it seemed as if the younger girl was willingly curving into her figure, leaning into her as she usually never would.
Sexual flings were not things that Sachiko was fond of. Most of such interactions were for pure entertainment or as a means to an end, considering she was well aware of how others perceived her.
For all she cared, sex could be a one-sided exchange as long as she benefitted. Sachiko loved the exhilarating feeling of breaking someone’s pride and making them cry, and honestly anyone who willingly put themselves in that situation should have been well aware of the fact if they knew anything about her. And once Sachiko had broken them down, their appeal was lost.
But even now when Mikura was well on her way to being broken in, she felt a new sense of possessiveness. Holding her so close and making her crumble to pieces at her hands—feeling Mikura’s shaky breaths as she buttoned up her shirt. Maybe it was just the added element of a rutting alpha messing with her body or the thrill of a new experience, but Sachiko knew this felt different. Was it her own pride, knowing she was furthering a long term project of sorts rather than a measly fling? Sachiko furrowed her brow in frustration. It wasn’t. There was something beside the heat pooling in her gut, something that made her chest constrict a fraction.
Sachiko didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t articulate the sensation.
She subconsciously paused, only about two buttons from Mikura’s shirt collar. Her gaze flicked upward and caught on the collar wrapped around the alpha’s neck. A thin, red band of leather. She owned this alpha, and Mikura was her toy and her pet.
Gritting her teeth, Sachiko looked forward, flinching when she met Mikura’s questioning gaze in their blurry reflections. Mikura tilted her head innocently, so different from the arrogant, aggressive glare she had levelled against her when they first met.
“Juraku-sama?”
Mikura’s tone was so quiet and hesitant. But she didn’t sound afraid now. Why?
“What? I’m just wondering how exposed I can leave you for it to count as being decent,” Sachiko internally winced at how annoyed she allowed herself to sound. She forced out a laugh. “Although mutts like you are indecent enough already. Look at you, still trying to get off on my leg.”
Mikura’s hips stilled—she probably hadn’t even registered her movements.
“Juraku-sama…” Mikura whimpered placatingly, misinterpreting Sachiko’s anger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know my suppressants would wear off this soon.. it’s not right for anyone to have to.”
Concern .
A sick, nauseating anger swept over Sachiko, utterly engulfing her. It didn’t make sense to her. This wasn’t in Mikura’s nature. Even if the younger girl did develop some sense of proper attachment to her master, Sachiko didn’t want her concern or her pity . Sachiko didn’t want anyone’s pity.
“Stupid mutt,” Sachiko purred, menace soaking her tone with a honeyed smoothness. She reached back down into Mikura’s pants, her blunt nails raking a sweet, stinging pleasure against her stomach. The alpha’s boxers were laden with sticky, damp precum. It was disgusting, dirty. An acrid bitterness rose in Sachiko’s throat.
“Jura—ahk!”
“Shut up, dog,” Sachiko yanked hard on Mikura’s leash, jolting the alpha’s head backward. “You feel this?”
She grasped Mikura’s length tightly in her hand, feeling it twitch and release yet another spurt of precum.
“Mmhhk—!” Mikura choked out. Her eyes welled with tears again—the girl cried so easily no matter how much she tried to hide it.
“I am your master—I don’t have to be here,” Sachiko whispered hotly into Mikura’s ear. “I don’t have to have to be in this car with you, I don’t have to have you on my lap dirtying my clothes, and I don’t have to have your filthy cock in my hand.”
She deftly pulled Mikura’s cock out. It immediately flexed upward, smacking against the alpha’s stomach and staining her shirt. Mikura let out a sinfully loud moan, the sound reverberating in Sachiko’s head.
Sachiko encircled Mikura’s length in her hand and pulled the leash traut in the other. She coaxed more moans and whimpers out of the younger girl, finally giving her what her body needed. Her hand slid easily up and down the alpha’s cock at a brutal pace, and Mikura couldn’t help but thrust her hips forward in response.
“It’s your fault for agreeing to this, alpha ,” Sachiko continued, the burning feeling in her chest roaring, fueled by the sight of tears running down Mikura’s face. “As tough and smart as you try to be, you’re still here humping my hand like an animal.”
Mikura’s hips stuttered and her breaths grew shallow. The poor girl had been denied for so long that the sudden onslaught was enough to quickly send her over the edge.
“Ju—Juraku-sama, if you don’t stop I’m— I’m—” Mikura pleaded, the words coming out as breathless wheezes.
“You’re going to what?” Sachiko hissed, only moving her hand faster. The obscene noises cascaded around them, thank whoever made the divider soundproof. “Cum on your owner’s hand?”
“Hnngh—!” Mikura squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to prolong the inevitable.
“Go ahead then, mutt, go ahead and admit you’re just a needy pet,” Sachiko ordered her, tugging on the leash.
That final tug sent Mikura into a shuddering climax, her body clenching inward as she shot white ropes of cum onto her own pants and Sachiko’s hand. Her cock remained proudly curved upward, nowhere near satisfied. But Sachiko kept moving her hand at the same pace, locking the alpha in place as pleasure transitioned into painful overstimulation.
“Agh— please, please stop, stop—it hurts, ” Mikura begged pitifully, despite hips refusing to quit rutting upward and into Sachiko’s hand.
“Hmm… are you sure?” Sachiko asked sweetly, her sadistic nature glowing in approval. She pressed the pad of her thumb against the underside of Mikura’s tip, massaging the flared edges and smearing the alpha’s own seed on herself.
“Y—yes ahh— hngh,” Mikura whined, practically thrashing in place.
“Fine then,” Sachiko abruptly shoved the alpha’s cock back into her pants and pulled the zipper up. She gave it a firm pat, eliciting a half-aroused, half-pained yelp from Mikura. The alpha collapsed back on her, needing her touch but relieved of the overstimulating friction. But Sachiko wasn’t about to give her a break.“Now clean your mess.”
“Hmmph!!” Mikura let out a muffled protest as she shoved her cum-soaked fingers into Mikura’s mouth and spread her fingers to coat it in the sticky substance. The strange, salty flavour wrapped around the alpha’s tongue and flooded her senses.
“Enjoying your own taste, pet?” Sachiko grinned bitterly, eyes fixated on their reflection. Mikura squirmed around, confused and provoked by the foreign digits in her mouth.
It wasn’t enough.
Sachiko pulled her fingers out of the alpha’s mouth and tugged on the leash, clumsily repositioning Mikura so that the smaller girl was facing her. The alpha’s legs were spread, straddling Sachiko’s waist. Her eyes were glazed and conflicted, completely overwhelmed as she looked down at Sachiko.
This was more like it . Above her, looking down at her, and her subservient. But Sachiko craved something more. That feeling irked her—maybe she just needed to tear the alpha further apart.
She shoved her fingers back into the alpha’s mouth, this time so far back that Mikura was practically choking on them.
“You’re just a fucking animal ,” Sachiko snarled, now almost speaking as if she was reassuring herself of the though more than talking to Mikura. “You chose to be here. You know I’m going to break you, mutt.”
She was losing composure and she hated it, but she kept moving, prodding at the alpha’s fangs. Perhaps instinctively, perhaps in a momentary instance of conscious revolt, Mikura bit down. Her rut-induced fangs easily broke through Sachiko’s skin, rivulets of blood spilling from the wound.
Sachiko’s hand on her leash tightened, and her eyes widened, appalled. This… this stupid mutt. You—
She withdrew her hand, Mikura simply unlocking her jaw and letting her do so.
“I know,” Mikura murmured, struggling to focus on Sachiko’s glaring red eyes. The alpha’s tone was quiet, but now Sachiko picked up on an undertone of defiance. A challenge.
She looked down her hand, at the bright crimson droplets, and back up at the alpha in her lap. The strange feeling in her chest grew to an unbearable tremor. This stupid alpha, willingly putting herself in my hands. You keep fighting a useless fight and yet you enjoy it. Why do you make me lose my composure?
Sachiko gritted her teeth. The mixed sound of their panting filled the air. Mikura should hate her.
She shouldn’t care about a damn mutt.
Mikura shouldn’t be doing this with her.
She shouldn’t be—
Sachiko yanked Mikura forward by her leash. She curled her other fingers around Mikura’s shirt collar, blood staining the white fabric.
“Fuck you, you damn mutt,” Sachiko husked against Mikura’s lips before pulling her into a bruising kiss. This was an admittance of defeat, engaging in a more intimate act with someone who she deemed such a lowly creature. But the bitterness in her chest melted away with every whimper that Mikura let out, and the befuddled hatred that clouded her mind lessened with the feeling of Mikura’s hands gripping her waist.
Sachiko pushed her tongue into Mikura’s mouth, briefly running her tongue against the alpha’s fangs as if daring her to bite down again. The faint taste of Mikura’s cum made her grimace, but she ignored it.
Mikura trembled against her hands as Sachiko skillfully drew out moans worthy of an omega in heat from her. When she needed air, Sachiko released Mikura’s collar and jerked her away by her hair.
They broke away, panting. That slight glimmer of defiance laid in Mikura’s eyes. You know you want me, she seemed to be saying.
Sachiko hesitated.
What have I done?