His face wore an expression of priestly compassion, but the words that came out made the sisters' mouths twitch.
"This requires you to completely bare your souls—to rediscover the desire for life through the ultimate depths of shame and humiliation."
He watched the two sisters, who had gone blank and dazed from his absurd proclamation, and smiled slightly.
"...For example, the back passage that I've never opened."
In that instant, the air seemed to freeze solid.
Seika and Nijika stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe their ears.
He can actually say something this depraved and shameless?!
"Wh-What the hell are you talking about?!" Seika was the first to react, her face a mixture of shame, fury, and disbelief. "Pervert! Lunatic!"
Nijika seemed too shocked to speak, not a single word escaping her lips.
"I've told you the method. Whether you seize it is up to you." Seiji just shrugged indifferently.
"Of course, you can refuse—and watch yourselves fail."
With that, he turned to leave.
"W-Wait!"
Seika couldn't bear to imagine that outcome. She'd invested too much. Sacrificed too much.
She couldn't accept failure now.
"...I agree." After a long silence, Seika spoke, her voice bitter.
As she said it, something called "dignity" shattered inside her heart.
Nijika kept her head lowered the entire time, as if silently accepting this fate.
"A wise choice." Seiji's smile was one of satisfaction.
...
...
That night, in the bedroom.
The Ijichi sisters knelt side by side on the large bed, completely naked, their bodies positioned on all fours with their asses raised high. Soft lamplight illuminated every curve of their pale, delicate skin.
Their bodies pressed close together—close enough that their hips almost touched.
Each could feel the warmth radiating from the other's skin, the tiny goosebumps rising from nervous tension. Their faces were turned toward each other, and in the dim light, they could see the same mix of shame and dread reflected in each other's eyes.
Seiji stood behind them, fully clothed, like a king surveying his conquered territory.
He didn't begin immediately. Instead, he let his gaze roam over the two perfect asses presented before him—Seika's toned and firm, Nijika's softer and rounder. Between their spread thighs, he could see their wet pussies—already well-acquainted with his cock—and just above, the tight little holes he'd never touched before.
"What a view," he murmured appreciatively. "Two sisters, side by side, offering me the one place they've never given anyone."
Both girls flinched at his words.
"Seika, look at Nijika," he commanded. "Nijika, look at Seika. I want you to watch each other's faces."
His hands reached out, one palm landing on each sister's ass cheek. They both tensed immediately.
Then his thumbs spread them open, exposing their tightest holes completely.
"N-No... don't look..." Nijika whimpered, her face burning with shame.
Seika said nothing, but her whole body was trembling.
Seiji retrieved a bottle of lube from the nightstand. The sisters heard the cap pop open, then felt cold liquid drizzling directly onto their exposed assholes.
"Hnn...!" Nijika gasped at the sensation.
Seiji worked the lube in with his fingers, circling their tight rings, pressing gently. Nijika's hole twitched and clenched involuntarily. Seika's remained stubbornly tight, resisting even this small intrusion.
"Relax, Seika," Seiji said, pushing a fingertip past her rim. "Fighting it only makes it hurt more."
"Ngh—!" Seika's breath hissed through her teeth.
He worked them both open slowly, one finger at a time. First one finger, pumping in and out until the resistance faded. Then two, scissoring them apart, stretching the tight muscle.
Nijika was whimpering continuously now, her face buried in her arms. "It feels... weird... Seiji..."
"You'll get used to it."
Seika remained silent, but tears were already leaking from the corners of her eyes. Not from pain—from the sheer humiliation of being prepared like this, side by side with her little sister.
When three fingers slid easily in and out of both of them, Seiji decided they were ready.
He positioned himself behind Nijika first.
She felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against her loosened hole—so much bigger than his fingers. Her whole body went rigid.
"Seika, watch closely," Seiji said. "Watch your little sister take it first."
Then he pushed forward.
"AAAHHHH—!"
Nijika screamed into the pillow as the head popped past her tight ring. The stretch was intense, burning, nothing like she'd ever felt before. Her fingers clawed at the sheets as Seiji kept pushing, inch by inch, until he was fully buried in her ass.
"Fuck, that's tight," Seiji groaned. "Your little asshole is squeezing me so hard, Nijika."
"It hurts... it hurts... Seiji, please..."
"Just breathe. You'll adjust."
He held still for a moment, letting her get used to the fullness. Then he started moving—slow, shallow thrusts at first, working her open.
"Hnn... ahh... ahh..."
Nijika's pained cries slowly shifted. The burning stretch was fading, replaced by something else—a deep, unfamiliar pressure that sent strange sparks through her body.
"There we go," Seiji said, feeling her relax around him. "Starting to feel good?"
"N-No... it doesn't..."
But her body betrayed her. Her hips were pushing back against him, her tight hole clenching rhythmically around his cock.
After a few more minutes, Seiji pulled out of Nijika completely. She collapsed forward with a shaky moan, her gaping asshole twitching and leaking lube.
Then he moved behind Seika.
"Your turn."
"...Just get it over with," Seika spat through gritted teeth.
He pressed against her hole. Even after the preparation, she was still incredibly tight—her body fighting him instinctively.
"I said relax."
He grabbed her hips and thrust forward.
"AHHH!! FUCK—!!"
Seika's scream was raw, primal. Her whole body seized up as he forced his way inside, her virgin ass stretched obscenely around his thick shaft.
"Guh, you're even tighter than your sister," Seiji grunted, bottoming out inside her.
Seika's nails tore at the sheets. Tears streamed down her face. But she refused to beg—refused to give him that satisfaction.
Seiji didn't wait for her to adjust. He started fucking her immediately, hard and deep, each thrust punching another grunt out of her.
"Ngh—! Ah—! Hah—!"
"Look at Nijika while I fuck your ass," Seiji commanded. "Let her see your face."
Seika turned her head, and her eyes met her sister's.
Nijika was watching with a mixture of horror and shameful relief—relief that it wasn't her anymore. That expression made something inside Seika snap.
She hated Seiji. She hated her sister for looking at her like that. She hated herself for being in this position.
But most of all, she hated the fact that despite everything, despite the pain and the humiliation, her pussy was dripping wet onto the sheets below.
Seiji noticed.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He reached around and shoved two fingers into her soaking cunt. "Your ass is getting wrecked and your pussy is this wet? What a slut."
"Shut... up...!" Seika gasped.
He started alternating between them. A few minutes pounding Nijika's ass, his cock stretching her tight hole while she whimpered into the pillow—then pulling out and switching to Seika, slamming back in without warning.
"Ahh—!!"
While he fucked Seika's ass, he reached over to Nijika. His fingers found her neglected pussy, two digits sliding easily into her wet cunt.
"Hnn... S-Seiji..."
"Don't think you get a break just because I'm not inside you." He pumped his fingers in and out of Nijika's pussy while his cock pistoned into Seika's ass. His thumb found her clit and circled it mercilessly.
Nijika's hips bucked against his hand. "N-No... I'm gonna..."
"Go ahead."
Her pussy clenched around his fingers as she came, her whole body shaking. Seiji kept fingering her through it, drawing out every spasm.
Then he switched again—pulling out of Seika's ass and burying himself in Nijika's still-clenching pussy.
"Ahhh!! Too much—!!"
He fucked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm while his hand moved to Seika. Three fingers shoved into her dripping cunt, his thumb pressing hard against her clit.
"Ngh—! Bastard—!" Seika gasped, her body betraying her as her pussy gripped his fingers.
"As expected of sisters," Seiji laughed, balls-deep in Nijika's pussy while fingering Seika's. "Even your cunts squeeze the same way."
The humiliating comparison made both sisters want to die.
That night went on for hours. He used every hole they had—fucking one's ass while fingering the other's pussy, then swapping. Filling one with cum, then moving to the other. By the time he was done, he'd cum inside both their asses and both their pussies multiple times.
By the end, both sisters lay collapsed on the bed, every hole gaping and leaking his seed. Their faces were streaked with tears, their bodies covered in sweat and cum.
They had witnessed the true "hell" of desire.
...
...
After the long night, dawn arrived.
Sunlight pierced through the blinds, casting dappled shadows across the disheveled bed—and illuminating two pale, smooth bodies lying upon it.
The Ijichi sisters woke from their stupor, and the first thing they felt was pain.
The forbidden places that had been roughly claimed burned with a tearing sensation. Even the slightest movement sent sharp, throbbing aches through their bodies.
Every muscle fiber screamed in protest against last night's brutal conquest.
They lay motionless on the soft mattress, not even daring to look at each other despite being so close.
The air was thick with a viscous, intimate scent—sweat, tears, and Seiji's concentrated essence. Every breath felt like re-tasting last night's humiliation.
Seika buried her face deep in the velvet pillow. Those eyes that always sparkled with stubborn defiance now held only a silent, smoldering fury in their deadened depths. She felt like a porcelain doll that had been shattered and carelessly glued back together, covered in cracks that would never heal.
Nijika curled up tightly, wrapping herself completely in the silk sheets.
Her expression was hollow. Last night's scenes played on loop like a film in her mind...
Her sister's pained whimpers suppressed in her throat, her own uncontrollable cries of shame, the feeling of Seiji moving between their bodies in turn, and those embarrassingly wet, sticky sounds...
All of it reminded her, again and again, just how terrible things had become.
Just then, the bedroom door opened.
Seiji walked in wearing loungewear, his posture relaxed, his face carrying the satisfied ease of someone who'd had a fulfilling meal—a stark contrast to the wrecked scene on the bed.
"Awake, are we, Seika, Nijika?"
He carried a tray with two glasses of warm milk and several containers of specialized ointment.
Neither sister responded or looked at him.
"I've prepared breakfast. And medicine."
Ignoring their cold attitudes, he simply set the tray on the nightstand and pulled up a chair.
"What a perfect view."
Seiji sat beside them, openly admiring.
The tense lines of Seika's back. The fragile vulnerability in Nijika's curled-up form.
"Since we skipped the proper preparation steps, it'll hurt more." Seiji spoke, his voice calm and gentle, like a caring husband tending to his sick wife. "But once you apply the ointment, you'll heal quickly."
"After a few more times, you'll get used to it."
"Utaha, Eriri, and Ryo have all been fully developed. Even when I go all out, they only feel annoyed—not pain."
That casual, matter-of-fact tone stabbed deep into Seika's heart.
She jerked her head up, eyes boring into him. "Get out!"
Seiji didn't get angry. He just smiled, picked up a camera, and pressed play.
A video began.
It was last night's "live recording."
The sobs and screams of the two sisters—filled with pain, shame, and unwillingness—mixed with the embarrassing sounds of flesh on flesh and... The moment this audio played, both sisters went rigid.
"This," he said, pointing at the device playing the obscene sounds, "...is so moving. So full of emotion."
The sisters were completely petrified, staring at Seiji in disbelief, their bodies trembling violently from extreme humiliation.
"Remember last night well." His voice carried a bewitching power. "Then channel it into your music."
"Rich emotion is what creates moving music."
"...Even negative emotions are far better than no emotions at all."
...
The next few hours felt utterly absurd to the Ijichi sisters.
Seiji actually became a professional music instructor, earnestly teaching them technique.
First, he had Nijika sit at the electronic drum kit.
"Your problem is that your body and soul are disconnected." As he spoke, he pressed himself close against her from behind.
Since her clothes had been torn off, the girl wore only one of Seiji's dress shirts—and was nearly naked beneath it.
Her petite frame against Seiji's chest sent ripples through her heart.
Seiji's hands covered her cold, small hands gripping the drumsticks.
"Close your eyes," he murmured hypnotically in her ear. "Forget all technique and timing. Feel the 'marks' I've left inside your body. Feel the tearing pain, the strange sensation of being filled, and that unfamiliar pleasure that made you tremble with shame..."
As he spoke, his warm breath brushed against her sensitive ear, sending tingles through her entire body.
His other hand wasn't obediently holding hers—it slipped under the hem of the shirt, coming to rest lightly on her flat stomach, fingertips exploring with featherlight touches.
"Think of these sensations as your drumbeat," his voice grew lower and huskier. "Each strike is a recreation of last night's every thrust. Now—let your body play the drums."
Nijika's mind was chaos, her face hot enough to fry an egg.
The man's masculine warmth and suggestive words ran through her like electric currents, making her body—which had just endured such intense conquest—react shamefully once more.
She felt an unfamiliar wetness spreading below—her pussy growing slick despite herself. Seiji's fingers wandering across her stomach seemed to sense everything. They drifted lower, brushing through soft hair, sliding briefly along her wet slit before retreating back to her belly, applying pressure even more wickedly.
But instinctively, following Seiji's words, Nijika raised her drumsticks.
Last night's memories flooded back.
THOOM!
One strike fell—heavy, powerful, overflowing with raw emotion.
Both Nijika and Seika, forced to watch, froze in shock.
Then came the second beat, the third...
The drumming was completely different from before.
No longer a precise metronome—it was a young girl's soul crying out, screaming, shattering and then stubbornly trying to stand again. A mournful wail full of desperate life force!
Each strike carried last night's pain and the twisted pleasure that followed, the drums filled with contradictory yet captivating tension...
When the piece ended.
Nijika's expression was complex, caught between emotions that finally dissolved into a sigh.
It was effective.
But this "teaching method" really made one wonder whether Seiji was genuinely instructing them—or just using desire as an excuse to toy with them.
After completing Nijika's "guidance," Seiji turned his gaze to Seika.
He placed an electric guitar in her arms.
"Your turn." He sat down with Nijika in his lap, then reached out to stroke Seika's slightly flushed skin and delicate collarbone. "Your guitar is too 'clean'—as if it's forgotten emotion. Now I'm going to make you remember."
He didn't embrace her from behind like he had with Nijika. Instead, he stood before her.
"Play." He commanded.
Seika gritted her teeth, her stiff fingers plucking the strings.
The sound was harsh and grating, full of anger and resistance.
Seiji shook his head. Then he extended his hand, slipping it beneath the hem of her oversized shirt—under which she wore nothing.
"Ngh!" Seika's body jerked violently, the music cutting off abruptly.
He didn't directly touch her most sensitive core. Instead, his palm came to rest gently on her soft, flat stomach.
"Feel the trembling here," Seiji's voice was low and husky, magnetic. "There's still what I left inside you last night, isn't there?"
"I deposited it very deep. You won't be able to push it out for the rest of the day."
"Besides, your body is more honest than your mouth. It still remembers that pleasure—that's why it's clenched so tight, trying to feel that sensation of being filled in the empty space, right?"
As he spoke, his fingers pressed rhythmically against her lower belly.
Instantly, Seika's body went soft.
A strange sensation rose from deep within, spreading through her entire being.
Warmth... fullness...
It felt so good.
But it also filled her with shame and fury!
"Now, transmit that feeling to your guitar." Seiji smiled cheerfully.
His explicit words made Seika's blush spread all the way down to her neck.
"You..." Seika wanted to argue back.
But suddenly, she realized with horror that with each rhythmic press of his hand, a strange, tingling warmth was actually rising from deep in her belly, spreading to her limbs.
Her asshole—ravaged all night long—was inappropriately beginning to clench and pulse.
"How can this be..."
Trembling, she strummed the strings once more.
This time, the sound transformed.
No longer harsh resistance—but a mix of pain, daze, and a hint of surrender. A seductive, contradictory tone full of alluring conflict.
Every note seemed to carry a sob, yet defiantly lifted at the end—as if silently narrating a woman's journey from resistance to submission, and then finding pleasure within humiliation. A process of falling.
When the song ended.
Both sisters were stunned by their own music—this new sound, sorrowful yet tenaciously powerful.
Within that music was tearing pain, hatred from public humiliation, confusion about the future—but most of all, a life force that had risen from the ashes after experiencing all of it.
The way they looked at Seiji became infinitely complicated.
Fear, hatred, humiliation...
And a sliver of something they didn't dare acknowledge—a sick, twisted "reverence" and "gratitude" for this artistic elevation bought with their bodies and dignity.
Outside the room, listening to the performance, Utaha and Eriri let out genuine exclamations of admiration.
"What even is this?" Eriri murmured. "He turned hell into their heaven... or rather, he made them believe that hell is the only path to heaven."
Utaha crossed her arms, her tone detached:
"That's why I said—he really knows how to handle women."
As she spoke, Utaha seemed to recall her own past. Her expression grew complicated, her eyes shimmering with complex depths.
After despair, she'd survived with a twisted kind of vitality.
Alive, yes.
But whether that was good or bad... she truly couldn't say.
...
...
After the sisters' duet.
Seika and Nijika slowly began to accept reality.
In fact, through all the unimaginable ways they were played with, their bodies began to betray their wills—chasing pleasure and joy.
Seiji was satisfied with this change, but he didn't think it was enough.
"Passive acceptance is just taming, in the end. I want them to actively serve me from the heart—like Utaha, Eriri, and Ryo."
Seiji sat in his study, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
That evening, when the sisters arrived at the apartment as usual.
They finished bathing and emerged in thin silk nightgowns.
But contrary to his usual behavior, Seiji didn't immediately start touching them.
"What is the spirit of rock?" he suddenly asked.
Both sisters froze, unsure what game he was playing.
"It's rebellion. It's freedom." He continued on his own. "Your music is starting to have that flavor—but your lives don't have it yet."
=====
Hope you're liking the smuts, if any suggestions please lmk
You can read up to chapter 160 on patreon.com/NiaXD.