A/N: Hey everyone! Life is still a bit of a whirlwind, but I try to keep my promises whenever I can. A while back, I missed an update, so here is the chapter I owe you all (I somehow managed to finish it despite everything).
Anyway, the debt is paid. Enjoy!
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Mebuki pushed herself up from the bed, sidestepping the puddle of her own fluids with a little humming tune, as if avoiding a mess on the street rather than evidence of her debauchery. She made her way to the head of the bed, her movements slightly unsteady, her legs still trembling faintly.
I sat at the edge of the bed, my cock standing at full attention, pointing directly toward the closet like a compass needle toward north. I watched her move.
Her sundress, bunched up around her hips moments ago, had slowly descended, the pale yellow fabric fluttering down to cover the tops of her thighs. It caught halfway, clinging to damp skin, revealing pale, slightly dimpled legs and the wide, soft curve of her hips. As she walked, the dress shifted, giving flashes of her reddened, abused ass cheeks and the dark, wet patch between her legs where her juices were still soaking into her inner thighs.
She grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed, fluffed it once with a critical eye, and then tossed it onto the carpet a few feet away from the puddle.
"There," she muttered, more to herself than to me. "That should be easier on the knees."
Then she turned, beaming at me with a smile that was equal parts seductive and self-satisfied. She extended a hand toward me, her green eyes half-lidded.
"Come here, Eishin," she purred, her eyes half-lidded and promising a world of mediocre technique dressed up as high art. "Let me show you what a real woman can do."
I looked at where she'd set the pillow—safely away from the mess, out of direct line of sight from the closet.
That won't do.
I grabbed her extended hand, but instead of letting her pull me up, I reached down, snagged the pillow with my other hand, and dragged it directly between my widespread legs. Right in the splash zone. Right where the closet door had a front-row seat.
I didn't want Sakura missing her mom sucking my dick. For educational purposes, of course.
Mebuki's smile faltered, shifting into something more patronizing—the kind of look you'd give a misbehaving child.
"Now, now," she said, her tone lightly scolding, trying to tug the pillow back with her foot. "The floor there is all dirty. You'll ruin the pillow." She reached down to grab the pillow, but I didn't let go. "Let's just put it back over—"
I tugged on her hand and pulled her toward me.
She yelped and stumbled forward, landing directly between my thighs. Her free hand shot out to grab my shoulder for balance, her nails digging in slightly.
"My goodness!" she gasped, breathless, her chest heaving against the air. "So forceful! You really can't just—"
I wrapped both hands around her before she could finish. One slid under her dress, gripping the soft flesh of her thigh. The other cupped her ass over the fabric, squeezing the tender, spanked skin.
She felt substantial in my arms. Not soft in the way a younger woman might be—firm and toned—but yielding. Doughy. Real. The kind of body that had lived, that had carried a child, that had spent decades in domestic comfort.
Her thigh was warm, the skin smooth but lacking the elasticity of youth. Her ass gave easily under my grip, the reddened flesh still radiating heat from the spanking.
Mebuki gasped, her body going rigid for a moment before melting slightly into my touch.
"Oh my," Mebuki breathed, leaning into my hold rather than pulling away. A delusional, prideful smirk spread across her face, stretching the caked makeup around her mouth. Smug, almost condescending. Like she'd just won a small victory in a game only she was playing. "You just can't get enough of me, can you? It's flattering, really, but you must learn some patience. A gentleman doesn't manhandle a lady just because he's overwhelmed by her charms."
She placed a hand on top of my head, her fingers threading through my hair, and started brushing it back in a way that was clearly meant to assert control.
"Now, if you just let me go," she said, her tone sweetening into something patronizing, "I'll take very good care of you. You don't need to grab and pull like some… overeager boy. Just relax and let a woman handle—eep!"
I slapped her ass.
Hard.
Mebuki yelped, her whole body jerking forward. Her fingers tightened in my hair, nails scraping against my scalp, and her other hand squeezed my shoulder hard.
"W-what are you—"
"Disciplining a misbehaving little housewife," I said calmly.
Mebuki's expression shifted. She forced an awkward, tolerant smile. One you give a senile relative saying something inappropriate at dinner. She patted my shoulder almost condescendingly.
"Now, now," she said, her voice strained but still trying for authority. "I'm happy to… to play along with whatever game you want, Eishin, but this isn't the time for—"
She really all over her head, wasn't she? But just because I was letting her suck me off, she shouldn't confuse it with her holding the reins.
Another slap. Harder this time.
"Ah!"
She cried out, louder, her hips bucking forward involuntarily. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.
"You're hurting me," she said, her voice shifting from performative seduction to genuine indignation. "I understand you're… passionate, but there's a difference between playing and actually—"
Slap.
Her words dissolved into a choked moan. Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to lean more heavily on my shoulder to stay upright.
"This is ridiculous," she snapped, her tone turning sharp and angry. "What do you think you're doing? I am a married woman, a mother! We were having fun, but you're hurting me now! This isn't—you can't just hit me whenever you feel like it! I demand you—"
Finally showing some of that bite she had in her.
She struggled against my hold, trying to pull away, but my grip on her thigh and ass kept her locked in place.
I paused, listening. Surely the daughter would react to her mother's distress.
The closet stayed silent.
Unbelievable.
"You know," she gasped between strikes, trying for a seductive tone, "if you'd just let me show you what I can do, you'd see I'm worth being... gentle with. A woman of my experience knows how to please a man of your caliber..."
Smack.
That illusion shattered immediately.
I raised my hand again, and her eyes widened.
"Alright! Alright!" she said quickly, her voice pitching higher. "We'll do it your way. You can… you can hold me as much as you want. Just—just stop hitting me. Please. I'll keep the pillow right there, I promise."
I looked up at her, holding her gaze.
She sighed in relief, forcing a placating smile onto her face.
"Really, Eishin," she said, her tone shifting back to that faux-patient chiding. "You're so rough. So assertive. It's… charming, in a way, but you should let a lady guide things once in a while. If you want something, all you have to do is ask."
I hummed thoughtfully, my hand sliding from her ass down to her thigh, caressing the soft skin in slow, soothing circles.
She relaxed almost immediately, her body loosening, her breathing evening out.
She didn't get her way by subtly manipulating for control; she didn't get her way by anger and indignation. Now, she reverted to a soft and obedient.
"Do you think I'm a wimp like your husband?" I asked casually, my thumb tracing circles on her damp skin.
Mebuki let out a startled laugh, half-apprehensive, half scornful. There wasn't a shred of defensiveness in it.
"Oh, Heavens, never," she tittered. "I would never think that. After everything I've told you, you should know by now that you're nothing like—"
I spanked her again.
She yelped, her eyes going wide in shock.
"Ow!" She yelped, jumping again, her eyes wide. "I thought—I thought we were done! I said—"
"When you do something wrong," I said, my voice calm and measured, "you're supposed to apologize first."
I brought my hand down on her ass again.
Smack.
"Ah!"
Mebuki jerked, her body jolting forward into my chest. But she didn't try to pull away. Both her hands stayed planted on my shoulders, gripping tight to keep herself upright.
"I didn't—I didn't do anything wrong!" she protested, her voice climbing higher. "I just wanted a moment for myself! A woman deserves that! You're being unreasonable—please, just stop!"
To make sure, I slipped my hand under the hem of her dress.
And sure enough, she was melting. Her inner thigh was soaked. Viscous strands of arousal clung to my fingers instantly. No wonder the bitch was loving this.
Her protests got louder the moment she started understanding she wasn't getting her way the way she used to. She thought she could cake herself up and play the slut, moan louder, shake her ass, and she would be able to put a collar on the foolish jounin.
This was, in all accounts, expected; it was how status-driven sluts go to plan most of the time. And it both startled and frustrated her when her silly theatrics and whims failed and crumbled.
"Nothing wrong?" I repeated, my tone mocking.
Smack.
She moaned.
Smack.
"You left your house and family to whore yourself out to a man half your age," I said, each word punctuated by another sharp slap to her reddening ass.
Smack.
"You're a wife."
Smack.
"A mother."
Smack.
"You left your house," I scolded, punctuating each point with another slap. "You abandoned your family to sneak into a hotel room like a common whore."
Smack.
Mebuki gasped, her knees buckling slightly. She clutched my shoulders harder, nails digging into the muscle.
"It's—it's not like that! No! I—I'm a respectable woman!" Her protest was weak, her voice trembling. "I have status! I have—ahhh!"
"A respectable woman who spread legs for a man half your age," I continued relentlessly. "Debasing yourself for a taste of competence you can't get at home because you picked a weak man to marry."
Smack.
"Stop! Please!" She wasn't fighting anymore. She was clinging to me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. Her head lolled back, eyes rolling up. "It's not like that! I'm a good mother! I did it for—ahh—for the family!"
"A good mother?" I growled, "You are obscenely leaking all over my floor. What sort of mother does that? Huh? You think you can misbehave with me? Like you do with that wimpy husband of yours?"
Smack.
"I don't! I respect you!" Her words began to slur, losing their sharp edges. "Kizashi is—he's useless! He doesn't know how to handle a woman! You—you're strong! Ahh! Please, Eishin!"
Smack.
"You're seducing a man young enough to be your daughter's age," I continued, relentless. "And after such indecency, such lack of shame, and infidelity, you didn't utter a single word of apology. Not a single one."
Smack.
Her words dissolved into incoherent fragments. Her defensive justifications turned to slurred moans, her body trembling as arousal flooded through her thighs, streaming down her legs in glistening trails.
"I—ahh—yes! That's—you don't understand—"
Smack.
"Aah!…P-please—"
Smack.
"Stop—I'm—"
Smack.
Her voice gave out entirely, replaced by raw, unfiltered moans. Her pussy was gushing now, the wetness pooling between her feet, mixing with the mess she'd already made on the floor and all over the pillow.
I glanced toward the closet. I thought maybe, just maybe, Sakura would intervene now. Her mother was being systematically dismantled, humiliated, and begging me to stop, even though her cunt was leaking like never before. Surely the daughter had a limit.
But the closet remained silent.
The daughter seemed perfectly content to let her mother get spanked into submission.
I landed another blow, harder than the rest.
Smack.
"Sorry!" Mebuki cried, her voice cracking. "Sorry, I'm sorry!"
She climaxed. A violent tremor ran through her, and a surge of her juice splashed on the floor.
Damn.
I stopped, my hand resting on her abused, burning-hot ass.
I looked up at her.
She collapsed fully against me, her legs giving out completely. She hung off my shoulders like a ragdoll, her knees bent and shaking violently, her chest heaving against mine. Her face was a mess of smeared makeup and sweat, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts. She looked wrecked.
"Sorry about what?" I asked, my tone deceptively gentle.
She gasped for air, clutching my shoulders like a lifeline. For a second, she didn't answer, her brain too scrambled to form sentences.
I lifted my hand again.
"For misbehaving!" she blurted out, panic flooding her voice. "I'm sorry for misbehaving!"
I slowly lowered my hand, letting it rest heavy and warm on her ass cheek. That seemed to be the encouragement she needed. The floodgates opened.
"I'm sorry for being a bad wife," she gasped, the words spilling out in a rush. "For cheating on Kizashi. For sneaking out to see you. For—for seducing you. For bending over and showing you my… my body. For begging you to touch me. For spreading my legs like some… some kind of whore."
She looked down at me, her face flushed and twisted into an ugly, slutty smile. The aging lines around her eyes and mouth stood out starkly against her ruined makeup. Her breathing was harsh and labored, and that look—on a married, older woman—was so fucking hot.
"I'm sorry for misbehaving with you," she continued, her voice thick with perverse enjoyment. "For even thinking I could treat you like that useless, wimpy husband of mine. You're nothing like him. You're strong. You're a real man. And I… I should've known better. I needed... I needed you to correct me."
My dick throbbed, straining painfully against nothing.
I squeezed her ass hard. Mebuki winced, but that slutty, degraded smile never wavered.
"Was it really that hard to learn your place?" I asked, my voice low.
Mebuki licked her lips, her smile widening.
"No," she purred. "It wasn't, Eishin-sama."
It wasn't the first time this bitch had used deferential honorifics with me, but before, it had always felt performative. A status game. A transparent attempt to earn points, to borrow status by proximity.
It had been. Now, though, it felt different. Not fully genuine but honest and submissive nevertheless.
Truthfully, I could've gotten this result from day one if I'd just invested more time in her. But her worth was tied entirely to her daughter. She was just a stepping stone, a means to an end.
I felt like the biggest arrogant prick for thinking it, but as much as I loved MILFs, I seriously doubted I would've slept with Mebuki if she weren't Sakura's mom.
I patted her abused ass gently, almost affectionately.
"Why don't you be good and get on your knees for me?" I said, "Show me what you've been so eager to show me?"
Her green eyes lit up. The smile turned even wider, more eager.
"Thank you, Eishin-sama," she breathed, her voice trembling with gratitude. "You're going to love it. I promise."
The middle-aged woman dropped to her knees.
It wasn't graceful. Her legs were shaking too badly for that. She practically collapsed to the floor. She didn't even check the pillow—the one I'd dragged into the splash zone, now stained with her own fluids. She dropped to her knees right on top of it, not caring about the mess.
Her eyes locked on my crotch with a terrifying intensity.
I frowned slightly, watching her settle into position.
Something wasn't quite right.
She'd been really enthusiastic about giving me a blowjob. To the point of stopping me from fucking her. That wasn't right. Usually, it was the man who asked for that kind of service, and the woman who had some level of apprehension.
Someone vain, status-obsessed, and controlling like Mebuki. I couldn't imagine her giving a blowjob willingly in her entire life. It seemed something she would consider beneath her. It was messy. It was degrading. It ruined their lipstick.
But here she was, practically vibrating with eagerness.
I may have spanked her good, I may have put her in her place, but that alone wouldn't turn her into an all obedient porn-star bitch. She was still Sakura's mom. That core attitude wouldn't be stripped away so easily.
Something else was going on.
Whatever it was, I'd just have to see where this went.
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