At four in the morning, when she couldn't sleep between the coursing energy in her body and the restless, pent up desire, Suguru had gotten off, thinking about her former friend and now... what was Satoru to her? She didn't know. Thinking about her on stage, the matching energy, the playfulness and casual demonstrations of sublime talent, the way she shined so brightly. The bite, after, and the way it had made every pleasure point in Suguru light up. It was, perhaps, the best orgasm she'd had in weeks, and she fell into a deep sleep after that.
So, in addition to feeling annoyed at Satoru, and quietly furious, she had guilt to add to that. It meant she did her best to avoid Satoru, although it was inevitable she'd be found. Because of course it was.
The way Satoru leans on her, putting pressure on her shoulder, makes Suguru squirm. Not entirely out of discomfort, either. But it gives her a reason to jerk away, trying to get away from Satoru's firm grip.
"I told you," she says, enunciating carefully, "don't touch me. I know you think you can get away with touching everyone just because it's you, but I have standards." And you don't fit them is heavily implied. She smiles at Satoru, bright and polite, the sort of smile she used on the executives back in the day. "You're worse than a dog. At least they can be trained. How long has it been since we were together? Ten years now, and you're still incapable of controlling yourself." She clicks her tongue in disappointment and pats Satoru's cheek, all condescending sweetness. "If you need it, we can get you a muzzle. I know just where to get one, I've trained girls like you before."
In reality, she hasn't done such a thing. For all the entwining sadism and masochism she enjoys, she doesn't like petplay much, and certainly not muzzling anyone. She wants backtalk and verbal play and has better ways of silencing people. But she doesn't know the extent of Satoru's knowledge of kink, so it's easy enough to do this.
She drops her hand, and looks around. "Now, if you're done being a rabid dog, I wanted to talk about Control."
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So, in addition to feeling annoyed at Satoru, and quietly furious, she had guilt to add to that. It meant she did her best to avoid Satoru, although it was inevitable she'd be found. Because of course it was.
The way Satoru leans on her, putting pressure on her shoulder, makes Suguru squirm. Not entirely out of discomfort, either. But it gives her a reason to jerk away, trying to get away from Satoru's firm grip.
"I told you," she says, enunciating carefully, "don't touch me. I know you think you can get away with touching everyone just because it's you, but I have standards." And you don't fit them is heavily implied. She smiles at Satoru, bright and polite, the sort of smile she used on the executives back in the day. "You're worse than a dog. At least they can be trained. How long has it been since we were together? Ten years now, and you're still incapable of controlling yourself." She clicks her tongue in disappointment and pats Satoru's cheek, all condescending sweetness. "If you need it, we can get you a muzzle. I know just where to get one, I've trained girls like you before."
In reality, she hasn't done such a thing. For all the entwining sadism and masochism she enjoys, she doesn't like petplay much, and certainly not muzzling anyone. She wants backtalk and verbal play and has better ways of silencing people. But she doesn't know the extent of Satoru's knowledge of kink, so it's easy enough to do this.
She drops her hand, and looks around. "Now, if you're done being a rabid dog, I wanted to talk about Control."