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Goromi stood and admired herself in the mirror. Not one normally given over to such trifling extravagances, still she found herself transfixed by the woman staring back at her. Tired and pale, sure, and still a little leaner of build than she’d have liked. But her long, black hair was brushed out loose and shining, her makeup was lovingly applied with the kind of precision that Ai-chan could always be relied upon for, and the jewellery borrowed from Sunshine’s safe twinkled under the room’s dimmed lights. The star of the show, however, was her dress: luxuriant, slinky, elegant, it looked capital-E Expensive. It felt expensive; black satins draped over her broad chest and narrow hips in a backless, halter style that let her Hannya and accompanying snakes take centrestage. Tiny, threaded sequins and beads in starbursts glittering down the split hem skirt, grazing delicate ankles and high-heeled, crimson pumps.
Running her bare hands and freshly manicured nails down chest and over her waist, Goromi had been turning and admiring herself in every direction when Nishitani appeared over her shoulder, a wolfish smile spreading over his face. He gazed at her reflection in the mirror and whistled:
“Lookin’ real good, babe! Seems like at least one of us has got a good eye for this kinda thing, huh?”
She scowled back at him. “Fuck off. I’m not yer little doll to dress up, and I ain’t some little after-dinner show, either. You can stuff yer shitty little dress.” Nishitani chuckled and moved up closer behind her. Resting his chin on her bare shoulder, he ran his palms over the flat of her stomach, pausing over the light curve of muscles under the satin drape and tracing the lines with the side of his thumb. Goromi froze and bit her lip, refusing to melt back into his touch nor acknowledge the hot breath that rasped under her burning ears; the heat, flaring in her guts.
“Ya think I ain’t noticed you checkin’ yerself out every chance that passed ya by tonight? ‘Sides, who’d blame ya?”
“Ain’t nothin’ to do with you or your rags. All this winin’ and dinin’ shit” – she gesticulated over to the remnants of a meal, empty dishes and wine bottles waiting to be collected by room service – “don’t float my boat. In fact, bein’ here is a waste of my time, Homare-chan. I gotta get back to the Grand for the evenin’s take.” She was reaching up to begin unfastening her earring (a delicate snake design won in a recent game of shogi, and kept back from the girls at the club “for a special occasion”) when Nishitani grabbed at her wrist. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t asked for, either. She turned and growled at him, what the fuck he thought was doing. Prick.
“Would it kill ya just to take a night off, doll? Let those kids run the show fer a while. Might even see the results if you just let yerself unwind for once.”
“I ain’t got the luxury of 'unwindin'’. Thanks fer dinner, I had a real good time or whatever, but I gotta split.”
Nishitani still didn’t release her. His grip tightened over the nubs of her wrist and he pressed a little closer. She pouted and avoided his eyes, but didn’t protest.
“Goromi-chaannn, I know ya’ve got things covered at both the Grand and Sunshine tonight. Sagawa-han ain’t the only one with peepers all over town. Plus, I know ya put on this dress I sent ya special, got all prettied up fer me. Think I can’t tell?” His voice lowered in a whispered conspiracy. “There’s a little part of ya that wants to be treated real good, and you’re too much of a stubborn asshole to admit it. What is it, yer that trained to come to heel that ya can’t even entertain the notion of havin’ a good time unless someone’s barkin’ the orders fer ya to do it?”
Ignoring the joyful little yelp as it bent unnaturally behind his back, Goromi grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm away.
“Ooh, I do love me a feisty lady. Yer really gettin’ my motor revvin’, now!” Pointedly, she still didn’t answer the question, and he snickered. “The whole sourpuss, woe is me act is gettin’ real tired, babe. People like us, like you and I, we need more stimulation to get our gears goin’, more excitement. Ain’t tellin’ me yer gettin’ any’a that from playin’ the put upon drudge at yer bar all night long, occasionally comin’ back here to suck my dick ‘fore disappearin’ into the night again.”
Finally needled, she let him go with a shove. As Nishitani fell back onto a nearby couch, she slipped her hand beneath her skirt and pulled her tanto out where it nestled, strapped and ready against her thigh. Stepping forward with it outreached and tossing the sheath to one side, she pointed the tip down at his throat menacingly and growled at him.
“Fuckin’ drop it, I ain’t interested. This is a means to an end, nothin’ more. I could do just as well without ya and not have to jump through alla these fuckin’ hoops of yers.” For her troubles, she received a toothy, hyena smile.
“You ain’t though, are ya? Yer here with me, and not home alone or at some shitty dive bar, ‘cause there’s a part of ya in there somewhere that wants to really let loose n’ enjoy yerself for once, and with someone who gets ya. You keep up this whole martyr act, where gettin’ yer rocks off has to be some kinda… self-flagellation, yer miserable little face might just set that way permanent-like.”
“Fuck off, Nishitani. I’m gone.”
Still, she didn’t move as he slithered up and off his perch, dodging around her outstretched blade and sidling up behind her. As he ran his rough hands along her tensed shoulders down to her elbows, the knife slipped a little in her grip. A falter, a moment unmissed by watching eyes. Nishitani rested his face in the dip between her shoulder and her neck, and purred. “What if I could get ya to really let loose, Goromi-chan?”
Closing her eye and feeling his scent against her skin and his dick pressing against her ass, the unbidden attraction he had for her, she wanted to refuse him. To tell him to go and kick rocks, or whatever the shit he did, but something unseen was holding her in place. Tilting her head back Goromi moaned, just slightly, just enough. Her reflection peered back: a vision of satins and jewels, something desirable, something worthy of affection, if just this once. The extortionate champagne bubbles that still fizzed in her veins and down to fingertips that still clutched around the hard, lacquered wood of her tanto. Strong hands gripping her hips and setting off sparks every time they pressed tighter; caressing the thin material of a bodice bought – custom! – just for her. He’s shameless, he’s fucking shameless, she thought to herself. Nishitani did not care one iota how contemptible that he looked, that she might think him a pathetic dog – that he might enjoy her thinking it. And yet…
She wanted to refuse him. To say fuck off and to change out of this dress and into something of her own. To find some shitty, quiet bar in the Sotenbori back streets where she or Goro could give head in a darkened alleyway and never have to ask names or make conversation, just go home with the release offered by the absolute bare minimum of human intimacy and physical contact, of feeling needed, however transitorily. She wanted that. She wanted that.
He prodded the exposed nerve again, feeling the resolve weakening under his wandering hands. “Why not let loose just one time, Goromi? If ya tell me what yer wantin’ in that noggin of yours, it might just come true, ya know. I won’t even spill the beans to anyone that ya weren’t a miserable sourpuss for five minutes of yer life. Our little secret, Goromi-chan.”
She bit down and this time she drew blood, spreading dark lipstick. Nishitani’s hands had moved down from her hip bones to her buttocks, cupping gently underneath it. He swept her jet hair back behind her arm where it brushed against her shoulder blade and his lips brushed against the softest fuzz of her earlobes with a shiver: “Just wanna see you enjoy yerself, Goromi-chan.”
Nishitani was behind her, surrounding her and breathing her in. In spite of herself, Goromi could feel her entire body pulling back against his, against his intoxication, his captivation, his desperation for her, to drink her in and feel her fire in his lungs. He wanted her. He wanted her. And she wanted.
That.
“Make me.”
He froze behind her. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but she felt the shift and immediately wanted to drag the words back into her mouth where they belonged. The knife, forgotten in her hand – she could spin round and cut out his heart this second, she thinks – when his voice came out low and, for Nishitani, almost uncertain.
“Come again, babe?”
Forget that, she could just disembowel herself rather than have to repeat those urgently breathed words, that little admission of something secret, something private that had slipped out and was now smeared across her face for all the world to see. To recognise that same deep flaw in her that others had discovered before now, had been disgusted by. But the words were, after all, out: no taking them back. Slitting his throat would be a hell of a cleanup job. Only one way out and that was through. Still, Goromi turned her head off to the side, good eye facing away so that it was impossible to see the reaction of the man behind her as she spoke.
“I said… I said if ya wanna see me enjoyin’ myself like that… really enjoyin’ it…” she trailed off, losing her words. Nishitani wanted to spotlight the blush he could see creeping over her high cheekbones, but thought better of it. Realising that her mouth had now grit shut, he replayed their conversation in his head before gambling on a punt and finishing the sentence for her.
“Ya can’t… ya won’t let loose without someone givin' ya the go ahead?” She ground her teeth, chin working furiously, but still didn’t look back and meet his eyes. Slowly, just barely, the curtain of hair falling around her face dipped in what Nishitani could only assume was a nod of affirmation. “You ahh… Goromi-chan, yer wantin’ me to tell ya what to do? Is that what this is? Gotta be real clear with me on this one, girly. Ya want me to make you come, no matter what?” Another pause, another dip of the hair curtain. “Gonna need ya to say it, babycakes. Need it outta that pretty mouth of yers or I ain’t budgin’.”
Swallowing down a growl, Goromi looked down at her hands.
“I said I want ya to fuckin’ make me come, Homare-chan. You stupid as well as ugly?”
She held her breath and waited: for what, she wasn’t sure. Nishitani jumping up and down with excitement and making some crass remarks wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, and nor was his wilful misinterpretation of her admission. But they never came. When Goromi finally looked up and caught his eye in the mirror, he was looking at her, right at her, deep in thought. For once, he looked almost serious, pensive. Shame rose in her gut and flamed in her face with the realisation that she’d made a fool of herself, that even Nishitani fucking Homare was repulsed by her. Just as she was preparing herself to wrestle free and leave, his hand came up and took her chin, gently between finger and thumb, and maneuvered her face until they were eye to eye in the mirror.
“Goromi-chan,” he murmured in a low register that rumbled at the base of her spine. “Fuck. Ya’ve got me fallin’ in love all over again.”
Goromi was laid out flat on the bed, mouth fixed shut and muscles tensed as Nishitani busied himself with the silky ties at her ankles. Produced seemingly from nowhere, two had already been looped snugly over her hands; each limb had been pulled just slightly further than was comfortable, however, stretching out her chest and opening her up to the room, to Nishitani. Nowhere left to shy away, nowhere to hide, no turning back. He pulled at the taut fabric contentedly, running a hand down her stomach and the folds of her dress, undeterred by the sharp tensing of muscles as she tried vainly to sink herself down through the mattress. She betrayed herself, though: the thin satin now stretched across her hips was a second skin over a dick that was starting to twitch and bulge with interest. Nishitani made damn sure that she could see him eyeing it voraciously, licking at his lips and grinning as he worked. Still strapped on around finespun ankles, the sharp heels of her shoes scratched at the bedsheets as Goromi instinctively tried to snap her knees together, to hide her exposition, to put up her walls and retreat back into her fortress. A warm hand wrapped itself around her left ankle and held fast, unbuckling the thin strap and effortlessly removing the shoe wholesale. Discarded out of sight, Nishitani raised her foot to his mouth and pressed his lips against it in a lingering kiss. Her toes curled and she tried to pull back, but she was trapped in every direction. Holding tight and not relinquishing his grip, he took the largest toe into his mouth, sucking it and running his tongue over the perfect coat of candy-apple red polish. Her breath hitched. Why she’d applied it earlier that evening she couldn’t say, now; whether for her own pleasure or some half-baked fantasy of how the night may unravel this time, she cursed inwardly now at what she expected would be a crowing gloat from Nishitani later on. “Painted yer nails jus’ fer lil’ old me, doll? I always knew ya cared, Goromi-chan!” For now, he just replicated the motions as with her wrists, slipping a silk tie around each delicate ankle and pulling back just a touch too tightly for comfort, attaching it to the heavy bed post. He mirrored this with the right foot, and the stretch this time made something pop in her hip: some old cramp from being kept in one position for too long that still stiffened in cold weather. The sensation as her muscles stretched out was intense, drawing out a sharp gasp that was one part pain, one part pleasure.
Never one to miss a beat, Nishitani patted the side of her remaining shoe.
“I ain’t even got started on ya yet. Hope yer gonna keep makin’ more’a those pretty nosies fer me, though.”
“Fuck off, Nishitani. Let me loose, I’ve changed my mind.” She attempted to pull at her bonds, uselessly starfished and spread eagle over the enormous bed as her toes curled and her hips wriggled impotently against the mattress. Nishitani laughed: dirty, low, a mockery that set Goromi’s teeth on edge as he knelt down by her side and moved in close.
“Sure, sure, babe. Jus’ say the magic words, yeah?” In an exaggerated pastiche, he cupped his hand to his ear and listened in close, batting his eyelashes in an exaggeration as Goromi’s eye burned furiously into him, and then – “go fuck yourself.” He laughed again uproariously as he spun around on the bed, positioning himself in the space between her legs and resting a hand on each of her thighs; one pale and bare where the hem of her dress had slid away, and the other still covering her in a febrile attempt at modesty. In between, a tent was forming in time with the angry blush on her cheeks, an incriminating coin-sized wet patch pressing through the material. “Yep, didn’t think so, girly.”
His hands slipped around and beneath her thighs, pushing aside the slip of fabric and revealing her almost full erect dick as it strained against a cobweb of black, lace panties. Biting her tongue Goromi watched, breath held and every inch of her flesh on a knife edge of anticipation. Her thighs burned angrily as her knees tried again to pull together, but she said nothing as Nishitani looped a thumb under the frills of her waistband and fucking growled.
“Goromi-chan, just lookin’ at your beautiful cock has got me fuckin’ leakin’ right now, babe.”
She was exposed, completely open and raw: there was a disgust to it, a queasy uncertainty at being held so vulnerable, unable to move at all in any direction or cover her shame. And beneath that… she was feeling something that she had long since thought to have rotted and withered on the vine. It was just outside of a reach; a tension in her stomach, a fire down her spine, the feeling that every nerve ending in her skin was attuned to the vibrations in the air. She bit down harder, drawing blood in an attempt to smother the feeling before it could break through to the surface and betray her to the wolf snapping his jaws and licking his teeth as he kneeled over her. His prey.
“Oh, one more thing, sweetcheeks.”
“Haw?”
From where her head was ever so slightly elevated on the pillow, Goromi watched as Nishitani fumbled with and loosened his tie, slipping it from around his neck and stretching it taut in his hands.
“The fuck…” She glowered daggers down at him. “What’s that s’posed to be for?”
Refusing to answer, he cackled as he ducked down and quickly looped it once around the base of her cock, tying it in a neat bow. She growled and rolled her shoulders as far as they’d allow, thrashing her head back and forth as she desperately tried to dislodge the tourniquet. Immobilised and head swimming, her complaints fell on deaf ears as Nishitani continued to snicker, deep and low and hungry. His hot breath was on her bared neck as he sank into the mattress around her, moving up the bed until his goatee scratched cruelly against her skin as he spoke, lips moving against the underside of her ear: “Jus’ somethin’ to really get ya concentratin’, babe. Want ya to really feel every little thing I’m ‘bout to do to ya.” Before Goromi could spit out a vitriolic, enraged response, she gasped and her now swollen dick throbbed angrily as Nishitani’s tongue licked out and inched slowly up her cheek.
When he jumped up and slid off the bed, Goromi found herself pathetically arching toward him for more, for something or anything. What she received was a cold, hard sensation slapping against her upper thigh. Even before she looked down, she recognised it intimately: the long, smooth steel of Nishitani’s own tanto, lazily slipping under her expensive as shit new panties. Holding her breath as she felt the efficient flick of his wrist near her cock, Goromi was finally, fully, hopelessly exposed as he cut them away from her body. Her hands fisted angrily in their silky restraints and she wriggled powerlessly, cussing him out and demanding that he immediately stop and free her, when she was stunned to silence by the wet heat of his mouth slipping over her tip and beginning to swallow down her length to where the tie was lightly knotted.
Completely at Nishitani’s mercy, Goromi gnashed her teeth together and squeezed her eye tightly shut to shroud herself in darkness; anything to prevent her from giving him the satisfaction. Of what, she didn’t know, couldn’t say. She’d invited him to make use of her body, to stir in her those forgotten pleasures and touch and intimacy and finally, even forcibly, bringing her to the peak of ecstasy. And still, her mind and her body raged at war with the sensations radiating through them as he hungrily sucked and licked at her now diamond-hard erection. The brush of stubble against the darker skin of her inner thighs; his hair hanging loose as it swept back and forth over her bush; the short, panting breaths he took in between slurping mouthfuls of dick. Her dick. Grimacing, Goromi shook her head, casting away the creeping thoughts. The rationalisation smothering away any attempt to take enjoyment in Nishitani’s rabid pleasure as he swallowed her down, kissed the precum off her head and lapped up the shaft in broad, devilish strokes.
Goromi’s struggle refused to confine itself to inner rumblings. Every nerve ending fought against the urge, the need to grind down into it, to buck and moan in irrational gratification, to lose herself completely when selfhood was all that she had left to give. Ever the dog in heat, Nishitani wasn’t ready to give up his part in their battle of spirits. As he lifted his head up and her dick popped out between his lips, she could feel the saliva trail that still connected them; sense the slight scrape of teeth against delicate skin that made her buttocks clench as he spoke.
“Hope ya ain’t thinkin’ I’m just gonna let you cum and have done with it, Goromi-chan.” The fingers of each hand wrapped under both of her cheeks, trimmed nails digging into the flesh and kneading at it. Goromi panted as her hips inched pathetically back, but her bonds offered no give, no reprieve: a butterfly, pinned under glass for his perusal, his inspection, his pleasure, his, to give herself for one moment all to somebody else, to let them share her burden and allow a moment in time where she could choose to relinquish control. A wet fingertip pressed at her entrance. Saliva or lubricant, she didn’t know, didn’t care. But still, she resisted.
“F-fuck you, Homare-chan… fuck you, you assfuck ugly asshole!”
His filthy laugh barked out and set her heart racing. “Maybe, maybe. But first, Goromi-chan, I ain’t gonna stop until I have you cryin’ and fuckin’ beggin’ for more. No, ain’t just enough to have ya cum, doll – I want to rocket ya up to space and show you the fuckin’ stars, babydoll.” With the last word, he slid his finger up and inside, slipping straight down to the knuckle before twisting and crooking it in one fluid movement. The silk ties stretched and protested as she howled in anguished delight, bucking her pelvis off the bed and trying to ride back against him desperately, feebly. Purring, Nishitani managed to hold her steady just long enough to slide in another finger and begin pumping, searching and scissoring and stretching her open. Writhing serpentine, Goromi pressed her face into the bedsheets and stifled the words that were building in her chest, denying them the satisfaction of shaming her and letting them die out in a loud w h i m p e r. It was too much, it was not enough. She felt the sound escape her mouth unbidden and loud, passing its treacherous message to Nishitani’s pricked ears. Down at her legs, she could see him, feel him bouncing with smug excitement, pressing a third finger to her pulsing entrance and bringing his hot breath back down to her ignored, purpling dick. A sharp intake and then:
“Sweetpea, I’m gonna straight up fuckin’ ruin ya.” In response, she screwed her eye shut again and began to moan out a deep, racking sob of bliss as his wrist twisted and pumped, jolting her body and burning every single muscle along lean thighs as they stretched. “Hey, hey! All eyes on me, babe. I wanna see yer pretty face when I make ya cum.” Wide-eyed, Goromi’s head shot up off the pillow and glared down as Nishitani’s free hand wrapped around her balls and squeezed, lightly at first to get her attention, and then harder when he knew that she was watching.
“HaaaAH! Ah! Fu-fuck!”
“That’s more like it, Goromi-chan. Shit, yer makin’ me so hard, lookin’ like that. I can barely think straight.”
Suddenly, Goromi was empty. She was so fucking empty, chest panting and eye blurry as she looked down to see what was happening. Her asshole throbbed and burned around nothing, a sensation that was suddenly unnatural, unbearable to her. Nishitani was slipping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the rough edges of his munewari. The world swam around one watering eye, her hand reflexively moving to rub it and remaining firmly, mockingly in its place up and away from her head. As he stripped, she could just about make out the edges of swirling clouds and maple leaves that danced down his arms and legs. Distantly, she found herself wondering what he carried on his back and along his sleeves: what traits the horishi had seen in him as a young man that had been deemed worthy of inking permanently into his skin. A lustful desire to live life without abandon and on his own terms, maybe. A headstrong kid accepting the consequences that such turbulence would one day bring to his doorstep. The thought moved something deep in her stomach, rousing some sleeping beast that she wasn’t yet ready to confront head on. But here, at his mercy, that call was entirely out of Goromi’s hands, and… she was free. Free to feel every pleasure that he bestowed on her, to be reckless and forget, for just one evening, the circumstances that usually kept her tied down from day to week to long, long month.
She swallowed, blinking back the water pooling in her eye until her vision came back into focus. At the foot of the bed, Nishitani was stripped completely naked. Goromi was intimately familiar with his cock by now, and always fascinated by it: the tattooed skin stretched over the bumps and ridges where he’d had it pearled; the ball bearing piercings at its head. But she’d never taken it like this. He stood, fully erect and coated in lube as he stared ravenously at her prone body. In return, the emptiness he’d left her with roared with excitement.
“H-Homare-chan,” she gasped out. Still breathless from his onslaught, still weakly fighting against her bonds. “I want… I need…” Still not able to draw out the words. He planted his knees back on the bed between her shaking thighs and set about loosening the tie from the base of her own dick. The sudden rush of blood was a tumult, her eye rolling back up into her head and her voice petering out. Nishitani only cackled with glee.
“Wassat, girly? You needin’ somethin’ from me?” He fell forward heavily, one hand on either side of Goromi’s chest. Pinned. Hot breath. Wet dick sliding against her hole as her words and her resolve alike faltered. He dipped down and bit into her aching shoulder, drawing out a yelp of anguished surprise. “Wanna hear ya beg me fer it. Tell me what it is that yer needin’, Goromi-chan.” He bit again, much harder, and the skin broke deliciously. “Tell me.”
The dam collapsed. Eye shut, her voice whined out and into his cocked ears as his dick twitched against her pelvic bone. “I… I need it, Homare-chan, I need you, I need ya to fill me up and to not stop, never stop, I’m asking – I’m beggin’ ya to give it to me.” She felt a hand on her chin, twisting her head up and forcing her to stare back into his eyes.
“Look at me when yer askin’, doll.”
Her voice fell to a husky, sulking whisper.
“I wanna feel ya deep up in me, and I want ya to make me cum until I can’t see. I want – I need to feel ya cummin’ inside’a me. I need… I need… I want ya to use me, I want ya to use me until I can’t take it and then keep goin’, I don’t wanna feel anything else, ever again, except you, Homare-chan. Don’t care if I live or die or what the fuck happens to me, I just need ya to give it to me. Right fuckin’ now.”
Nishitani howled with delight as she finished. “Baby, I’m gonna give you what ya need, s’long a ya keep makin’ all these beautiful noises fer me!” His tanto reappeared, cutting easily through her ankle ties so that she could draw her weightless legs up. Then, at last, his dick was inching its way in, filling the void left by his fingers, filling her and still pushing in. In ecstasy, she convulsed and arched her back up off the bed, arms straining the silk ties to their protesting limit as they creaked at the bedposts, her elbow and shoulder popping; still, she writhed under his weight as she wrapped her long legs around his back and took him all the way in. When he bottomed out, there was no respite, no moment to acclimatise: like an animal going in for the kill, he was thrusting up and into her, hands clawing at every available, exposed patch of skin. Deep red lines and welts quickly painted her shoulders as sweat ran down the strands of hair that hung over his face, dripping off him and landing wetly onto her face and throat and lips and tongue.
Delirious with passion, Goromi bucked back against him, panting and groaning and spearing herself onto Nishitani’s dick and still hungrily demanding more, babbling and murmuring and begging and growling into his scalp as he licked and sucked at her throat and told her she was beautiful, so fuckin’ beautiful, Goromi-chan. The beast inside was uncoiling fully, scratching against its cage for release, whilst her painted toes curled and pulled him in deeper until she could neither think nor feel absolutely nothing else, nothing, nothing, nothing. Cold air shivered against the sweat that covered her skin and plastered her dress to her body, sticking against shifting muscles. Out of sight, her cock wept, ignored still, as it rubbed against the coarse hair on Nishitani’s navel.
“Touch me,” she purred into his ear. And, god, he touched her: his hand slipped down between them both and wrapped around her shaft to begin pumping, arrhythmic against hard thrusts that slapped against her ass, letting her take almost his entire, insatiable dick with each one.
“Fuckin’ touch me!!” she whined again, louder, demanding, insisting. Nishitani’s hyena smile grinned across his face and he growled down into her neck with pleasure.
“Babe, you’re gonna be a good girl and cum for me now, aren’tcha?” His hand tightened and stroked and his thumb circled the tip, pressing into the hole ever so slightly and drawing out a maniacal cackle as heat burst through her and she came, and came, and called out his name and pressed her head back into the pillows and shuddered as it seemed to expel, endless, from within her. It smeared across the folds of her dress and then onto Nishitani’s skin; catching in the hairs that ran up his abdomen to his chest. Goromi couldn’t see, couldn’t think or hear, could only feel her ecstasy as everything around fell away, unimportant, inconsequential, unnecessary.
And of course, he wasn’t done. As he continued to ride her, it occurred to Goromi that he wasn’t even close, or if he was, he was holding back just for the sake of toying with her for as long as humanly possible. Her muscles shrieked and she wriggled under him helplessly, kicking out with hooded, vacant eyes as her entire body burned with overstimulation.
“Please… please…” she murmured, unsure what she was asking for, or even that she was speaking. Nishitani’s hands worked tirelessly up and down her skin, smearing her cum up her body to her collar bones and then pressing his fingers deep into her mouth. She took them hungrily, ravenous for her own taste, sucking and licking and maintaining eye contact, until Nishitani’s entire hand was clean. And then, she lay back and watched as he moved over, unable to do anything more. Her own dick was already twitching again half-heatedly, interested but entirely spent. She had nothing else left to give.
“Babe… Goromi-chan,” Nishitani choked out at last. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death’a me, one of these days. I just know it.” Leaning down he kissed her deeply, savouring the cum still in her mouth and around her lips, gripping her shoulders as he himself unloaded, juddering, inside of her.
They lay like this for a while, Nishitani’s comfortable weight on her chest as his dick grew flaccid. Finally, he slid out and she was empty again; empty, but, for once, satisfied. Then he removed her last ties, freeing each wrist and pulling her close into him. For a moment, Goromi fought against it, against the sudden gentle intimacy. But her body was spent. She was spent, and the beast inside her guts was sated; resting. She let herself curl her body up and into him, nuzzling her head under his chin as he stroked her sweat-drenched hair from her eye: “We’re gonna have to get ya cleaned up, doll.”
She mumbled something noncommittally affirmative, and then – with real irritation: “You’ve fucked up my new dress.” Nishitani just laughed.
“I’ll get ya another new one. Any dress that catches yer pretty eye, it’s yours.” He held her tighter. “What can I do fer ya right now, though? What’cha want from me, Goromi-chan? I’m yer slave, just say the word.”
Her eyes began to fall shut against his shoulder but still she murmured a faint response into his skin.
“Want ya to fuck off an’ die, mostly.” A pause. “Ice cream’d be good, though.”