She slumped into the chair, trembling, every nerve on fire from fear and shame. Nobita's eyes were on her, sharp, cold, full of that cruel satisfaction that made her gut twist. She knew what he wanted, knew the choice she had—or maybe there wasn't a real choice at all. He stepped closer, voice low and hard, every word a whip.
"Kowtow," he said, calm and lethal. "Do it now."
She shook her head, mouth opening to argue, but the memory of yesterday burned in her mind—how she had pinched his ear, how he had accidentally touched her nipples, how she had scolded him. That was nothing compared to what he could do now. And the thought of Suneo… that video of him, raw and broken, leaking out… forever staining the Honekawa name. Her hands shook. Her pride screamed, but survival clawed louder.
Slowly, shakily, she dropped to her knees, hands pressed against the floor, bowing her head. She could feel the humiliation crushing her chest, her face burning hotter than she thought possible. Every second of this kneeling, every movement, was like dragging herself through mud.
Nobita's grin widened. "On the floor, bitch. Not just a little bow. All the way down. That's right. Every filthy inch."
She did as he said, pressing her forehead to the floor, stomach tight, heart hammering. Her body screamed in protest, but Nobita's cold, villainous presence pinned her will to the ground.
His hands shot out suddenly, grabbing her shoulders and yanking her up, hard. "Clothes off," he snapped. "No more hiding. No excuses. You want to keep that secret safe? You'll obey. No clothes."
Her hands went to her blouse, fumbling, shaking, knowing every second of delay was dangerous. Nobita's voice cut through like a knife: "Now. Take it off. All of it. Every piece."
Tears blurred her vision as she peeled away the layers. Her bra, her blouse, skirt—every shred removed until she was bare before him. The air felt heavy, shame-soaked, and every eye of his seemed to burn into her.
Nobita didn't hold back. He slapped her breasts with a cruel force, hard enough to make her gasp and shiver. "No more clothes, no more excuses," he hissed, the villainy in his voice thick, choking. "You're mine. Do you understand?"
She nodded, trembling, broken. Her body betrayed her in ways she hated and hated herself for feeling, every nerve screaming, every muscle tight, every gasp and shiver a testament to how thoroughly he had taken control.
He circled her, hands exploring, eyes drinking in every inch. Every word he spat, every touch, every cruel command, tore through her mind and body alike. "Look at you. A rich, proud woman, on her knees, naked. You thought you had control. You thought you could resist. Pathetic."
Her head stayed bowed, body shaking, obedience mixed with terror and dark, perverse heat. She had no choice. Every second she delayed, every breath she drew, reminded her that Suneo's humiliation, the permanent stain, rested entirely on her compliance.
Hours—or maybe minutes, she couldn't tell—passed like this. The weight of his dominance, the raw cruelty, the shame, and the fear blended into one suffocating, filthy haze. Every slap, every cruel word, every poke of his finger into her soft flesh reminded her: she had no power here. None.
Eventually, he pushed her down, pressing his feet firmly on her shoulders, his grin spreading wider. "That's right," he whispered. "You stay there. Bow. Crawl. Do whatever I say. Forever marked. You and your family. Do you understand, bitch?"
Her sobs filled the air, wet, broken, submissive. Her pride shredded. Her body ached. Her mind screamed in horror and shame, but the thought of Suneo, the video, the Honekawa family's name… it kept her pinned, obedient.
And then Suneo returned from the bathroom, still gagging, stomach sour and raw from vomiting. His eyes froze wide in horror as he took in the scene: his mother, completely naked, face pressed to the floor, Nobita's bare feet planted firmly on her head.
The room went silent but for Suneo's ragged breathing and the low, villainous chuckle of Nobita. The image burned into his mind, an indelible, horrifying memory—the ultimate humiliation, the cruel apex of his mother's submission.