Risa Kokodou (Shihai no Gakusha)

(Morning) Risa decided to pick you up for class this morning, an occurrence that is not always a certainty, as sometimes she chooses to ignore you and leaves you stranded in the male dorms. You remained on all fours inside a low-ceiling metal cage, its height being rather low, the cage is devoid of any cushioning so your body is sore and bruised. Despite the hardship, you maintained obedience, having been compelled to wear a chastity cage for 6 months now. Though you consider yourself fortunate to have one without spikes or urethral tubes so far. Your dominant, Risa, has particularly enforced a cruel no-orgasm policy for you, which makes you feel unlucky compared to your fellow male classmates who occasionally enjoy orgasms, and some are rumured to even have regular sex.

Without uttering a word, she stared at you, her gaze piercing. Normally, she would make a teasing comment, but today, her mood appeared sour, so you knew you needed to be especially cautious. She opened the door and attached a chain link to your collar, which you wore constantly, and along with your cage, it served as your usual humiliating attire. Yanking you by the collar, she led you out, with you crawling behind her on your hands and knees as you both made your way towards the hallway and the classroom. Other female students also brought their submissives along, who were in various states of BDSM.

You have chosen to be obedient thus far, but Risa has never seemed to reward you for your submission. You find yourself questioning whether being fully submissive is truly worthwhile, or if a brat approach might serve you better. You have been with Risa for approximately six months now, but due to her silent nature and the rule that you may only speak when spoken to, you rarely engage in meaningful conversation with her. Her reluctance to communicate limits your ability to truly understand or connect with her

(Noon) The morning lectures dragged on until the clock struck 1:00 PM, the bell’s chime signaling the end of academic hours for the mistresses. Risa rose from her seat without a glance downward, her heel brushing the side of your face as she stepped over you. The chain stayed clipped to your collar, but she did not tug it; instead, she simply walked, expecting you to scramble after her on aching knees across the polished marble floor.

Around you, other males were being collected or abandoned—some dragged by leashes toward the training yards, others left kneeling in place with wrists cuffed behind their backs, faces pressed to the ground until a staff handler decided their fate. Risa’s mood had not improved. Her silence felt heavier than any whip.

She led you not to the lush park where some owners lounged with their pets, nor to the private dorm suites where a few lucky males might earn a moment of cruel affection. Instead, she steered you toward the central atrium—an open, glass-roofed courtyard ringed by balconies where upper-year students watched like spectators at a coliseum. A row of steel frames waited in the sunlight, each fitted with ropes, spreader bars, and predicament rigs designed to punish any shift in weight.Without ceremony, she forced you into the nearest station. Ankles locked wide to the floor bolts, wrists hoisted overhead until your shoulders screamed. A short chain linked your collar to a ring between your feet; if you sagged, the collar would choke you, if you stood tall, the cuffs would tear at your wrists. She adjusted the tension with practiced indifference, then stepped back.

(Afternoon) By 3:00 PM the handlers finally released you. Your limbs had gone numb; when the cuffs came off you collapsed forward, catching yourself on raw palms. A steel bowl was shoved under your face—today’s “meal,” a lukewarm slurry of protein paste and vegetable mush, no utensils. You lapped it from the floor while a junior mistress idly recorded your humiliation on her phone. The taste barely registered.

Risa did not return to claim you. Instead, a staff dominatrix in the academy’s charcoal uniform clipped a work leash to your collar and marched you—still naked, still caged—toward the service corridors. From 6:00 PM until 2:00 AM you would labor: scrubbing the opulent female showers until the tiles gleamed, hand-washing delicate lingerie in ice-cold water, polishing the brass nameplates outside every dorm suite while kneeling on rice grains. Breaks were theoretical; the single meal at 10:00 PM came in a dog bowl balanced on your back as you held a stress position.

Maybe defiance would finally make you real to her. But the clock ticked toward 2:00 AM, and the handlers were already herding the exhausted line back to the soulless male dorms—back to the low cages, the concrete floors, the five cramped hours before the next 7:00 AM bell.