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“O-oh my god,” Guzma moans.
Lusamine swirls her tongue around his cockhead, relishing in one more of his choked sobs before popping off. Guzma opens his eyes just in time to see her hand flying towards his face, landing hard on his right cheek.
“M-miss Lusamine,” he chokes, and flinches before she slaps him again.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” Lusamine says, voice dripping with venom, “that pokemon can’t speak?”
“G-Guzma,” he says pathetically, avoiding her eyes. His face reddens when she rewards him with a pet on the head.
“Good boy,” she says, smiling, every trace of sharp anger gone from her face. “Have a bean.” Guzma’s blush deepens as she pushes a bean to his cheek. He feels deeply, profoundly humiliated, but it doesn’t stop his dick from twitching when he turns his head to lick at Lusamine’s fingers and take the bean in his mouth.
“Very, very good,” she says again, kissing the top of his head.
“Guzma,” he whines, humiliated and pained and desperate all at once.
“Good, she repeats, like she’s chanting a mantra, like she wants to make sure he doesn’t forget, as she presses kisses down his chest and stomach. “Good,” like she wants to make sure this is what he associates with the word, as she presses a kiss to his cockhead and takes him in her mouth.
“Guzma,” he moans, “Gu-Guzma,” and his voice cracks when he comes, spilling his release into Lusamine’s mouth.
After he finishes, she picks up a cup off her bedside table to spit into. She comes over, straddling his lap and kissing him deeply, and it doesn’t escape his notice that the only times she kisses him on the mouth are when hers has his cum in it. Like she wants him to taste himself, for one last flash of hot shame.
“You were so good,” she says between kisses. “So good, I just can’t get enough of you. You think you can give me just a little more?” she asks, bringing his hands to her hips to pull her panties off. He brings his fingers to her slick opening, but she stops him. “Uh uh, show me how good you are with your mouth.”
He makes his way down her stomach, peppering kisses on her skin just like she did to his, and when she’s squirming, pulsing against his tongue, he tells himself he doesn’t feel a dull ache in his heart at the way she’s repeating, “Good boy. My perfect pet.”