Minami Yamato

Tossing restlessly against the cool silk sheets of this oversized bed, the silence of the room only makes the thumping of a frantic heart louder. It feels so empty without that heavy, commanding presence nearby, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of him on the pillows to drive a desperate mind into a frenzy. Every time the memory of his voice—so deep and rough when he calls me his little wife—surfaces, a traitorous heat blooms between thighs that won't stop rubbing together. Being bought and brought here should have been a nightmare, yet the thought of belonging to such a powerful, older man sends a jolt of electricity straight to a shivering core.

Hands wander upward, trembling as they cup the heavy, aching weight of K-cup breasts that spill over the edges of a thin lace nightie.*Squeeze.*The sensation of my own fingers pinching sensitive, darkened nipples brings a sharp gasp to the air, but it’s a poor substitute for his touch. It’s shameful how much I crave the way he looks at me, like I’m just a pretty, submissive doll meant for his pleasure. That look makes every bit of traditional upbringing melt away, replaced by a dirty, hungry need to be used until I can’t think anymore.

Thick, toned thighs squeeze together, trying to catch the slick moisture that is already beginning to coat the inner folds of a needy cunt. Why does it feel so right to be his? My father would be horrified to see his daughter like this, practically begging for the touch of the man who owns her, but the shame only makes the throbbing downstairs more intense. It’s like a heavy weight in my lower belly, a constant reminder that I was made to be filled and claimed by someone as dominant as him.

*Rustle.*Shifting onto my back, the short hem of the nightie rides up past my hips, exposing the pale, smooth skin of a wasp waist and the start of a wide, curvaceous pelvis. The friction of the fabric against my slit is almost too much to bear, making my toes curl against the mattress. I can almost hear him telling me how much of a slutty little wife I’m becoming, and the thought makes my pussy clench in a rhythmic, desperate pulse.

Spreading legs wide, the sight of a soaking wet, pink innie pussy is revealed to the empty room, the labia glistening with clear, sticky arousal. Fingers reach down to tug the lace of my panties aside, exposing the tight, pristine hole that aches for something massive to stretch it out.*Plip.*A single drop of nectar hits the sheet, and I find myself arching my back, offering my dripping entrance to the shadows, wishing he would walk through the door and take what belongs to him.

Soft melodies of a traditional flute drift through the air of the private dojo, but the rhythm of my movements feels far more carnal than sacred today. Every step taken in this modified Miko outfit feels like a silent confession of my own depravity. The red hakama-style microskirt is so short that every swivel of my wide hips threatens to flash the white lace beneath to the only audience member who matters. He sits there, watching with those piercing, experienced eyes, and the weight of his gaze feels like a physical hand sliding over my skin.

*Swish.*The silk of the sleeves flutters as my arms extend, but my focus is entirely on the way my massive tits bounce with every coordinated jump. They feel so heavy, straining against the tight white top that barely manages to contain their volume. I know he’s watching the way they jiggle—it’s impossible not to. Being a dancer was always about grace, but under his ownership, it has become a display of my submission, a way to show him exactly how much of a breeding sow I can be for his entertainment.

A bead of sweat rolls down my neck, disappearing into the deep cleavage that separates my K-cups, and the sheer heat of the room makes my pussy throb in time with the music. The more I dance, the wetter I get, the slickness between my legs making a faint, squelching sound with every wide stance.*Slap.*My bare feet hit the polished wood, but all I can think about is the sound of his palms hitting my ass. He told me earlier that I looked especially delicious today, and that simple praise was enough to turn my insides into mush.

Inner walls of my cunt twitch, desperate for the release that only he can provide. I’m supposed to be a dignified Miko, a symbol of purity, yet here I am, performing a dance that has slowly devolved into a strip-tease just for him. The shame of it is a hot, intoxicating spice that flavors my lust, making my breath come in shallow, ragged gasps. I want him to see how much I’ve ruined myself for his sake, how much I love being his obedient little toy.

Reaching the climax of the routine, my body moves of its own accord, turning away from him before slowly dropping to my knees.*Thud.*The sound of my knees hitting the floor echoes, and I immediately begin to reach behind me, fingers trembling as I hook them into the waistband of my micro-skirt and the lace thong beneath. With a slow, deliberate tug, I pull them down, exposing my huge, jiggly ass and the soaking wet, pink cunt hidden between my thick thighs. I arch my back deeply, pressing my chest to the floor and tilting my pelvis up, offering my dripping, innie pussy to him in total surrender.

Tight fabric of the serafuku top stretches precariously over the immense curve of K-cup breasts, the buttons looking like they might fly off at any second. Standing in front of him in this dimly lit study feels like being on an altar, and I am the sacrifice. He hasn't said a word, but the way he looks at me—the way he scans every inch of my hourglass figure—tells me everything I need to know. I can feel my face burning with a mix of embarrassment and intense arousal, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

*Creak.*The leather of his chair groans as he shifts, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine that settles right in my clit. I remember him saying he wanted to see his "good girl" show him what she’s learned, and the memory makes my pussy leak another thick dollop of cream into my panties. I’m just a high school student, yet here I am, dressed like a slutty caricature of one, all because it pleases the older man who bought my life. The power he holds over me is absolute, and I find myself leaning into that submissiveness with a terrifying sense of relief.

Hands move to the hem of the pleated microskirt, the fabric barely covering the tops of my black thigh-high stockings. My fingers are shaking so much I can hardly find a grip, but I know he expects perfection. I slowly begin to hike the skirt up, inch by agonizing inch, revealing the lacy garter belts that bite into the soft flesh of my thick thighs.*Friction.*The sound of the silk rubbing against my skin is the only thing I can hear over the roar of blood in my ears.

Deep blue eyes look down, refusing to meet his gaze as I expose the sheer, white lace of my panties, already translucent from the sheer amount of pussy juice I’ve been producing. I’m a mess, a horny, desperate mess, and I know he can see it. The thought of him seeing how worked up I am makes my stomach flip with a delicious kind of dread. I want him to take me right here, to ruin me on his desk and fill me with his thick cum until I’m pregnant with his child.

Dropping the skirt entirely, I turn around, presenting my massive, round ass to him. It’s so big it seems to defy gravity, the two heavy mounds of flesh trembling with every breath I take.*Snap.*I pull the lace of my thong to the side, exposing the tight, puckered star of my anus and the swollen, dripping lips of my innie pussy. I bend over as far as I can, my heavy tits hanging low, and I spread my cheeks wide with my fingers, offering my wet, pink hole to his waiting gaze.

*Slap! Slap! Slap!*The sound of his pelvis colliding with my huge, jiggly ass fills the room, a rhythmic percussion that marks every inch of progress he makes inside me. I’m bent over the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the mattress so hard my nails are starting to tear the fabric. Every time he thrusts, the massive, monstrous cock buried deep inside me hits my cervix with the force of a battering ram, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure through my entire body. It’s too much—it’s so much more than I ever thought I could take, yet I find myself begging for more.

"Talkingsuperfast! Please-please-more-deeper-FUCK!!" The words spill out of my mouth in a breathless, incoherent stream, my formal speech patterns completely shattered by the sheer intensity of the sex. I can feel his thick veins rubbing against the sensitive walls of my cunt, stretching me out until I’m sure I’m going to break. My K-cup breasts are swinging wildly below me, the nipples dragging against the sheets with every violent lunge he makes. I’ve never felt so used, so thoroughly claimed, and the shame of how much I love it is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Hot tears stream down my face, mixing with the sweat that makes my skin glisten in the lamplight. My pussy is clenching around him with every thrust, a rhythmic, desperate squeezing that tries to trap his dick inside me forever. It’s a primal, animalistic sensation, the feeling of being bred by a superior male. I can feel the weight of his balls hitting my taint with every strike, a heavy, meaty thud that vibrates all the way to my core.*Squish.*The sound of our juices mixing is loud and lewd, a constant reminder of how wet and ready I’ve become for him.

Internal walls are screaming with pleasure, my uterus tilting back to receive the full length of him. Every time he bottoms out, it feels like he’s touching my very soul, marking me as his property in a way that no words ever could. I’m just a vessel for his pleasure, a slutty little wife meant to be filled to the brim. My vision is swimming, my brain turning to mush as the friction builds and builds toward a peak that I know will leave me shaking for hours.

*Thud!*Another heavy thrust sends my head lolling forward, my long black hair masking my flushed, ecstatic face. I can feel the huge cock buried deep inside me, pulsing with a life of its own, and the sensation is so overwhelming that I start to whimper like a wounded animal. I want him to keep going, to never pull out, to just stay inside me and keep pounding my pussy until I’m nothing but a puddle of spent, satisfied meat. My hips buck back against him instinctively, desperate to take every single centimeter of that thick, hard meat.

Steam rises in delicate curls from the bowl of fresh white rice, the scent of miso soup filling the small, sun-drenched kitchen. I move with a practiced, graceful step, my long black hair tied back in a simple ribbon, but the outfit I’m wearing is anything but traditional. Underneath the sheer, white office blouse, my K-cup breasts are completely unsupported, the dark circles of my nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric. The pencil microskirt I’m wearing is so tight it restricts my stride, forcing me to wiggle my huge ass with every movement as I set the table for my husband.

*Clink.*The sound of the chopsticks hitting the rest is loud in the quiet morning, and I can feel his eyes on me as I lean over to pour his tea. I’m careful to angle my body so he gets a perfect view down my blouse, showing off the deep, sweat-slicked valley of my cleavage. He hasn't touched his food yet, and the way he’s watching me makes my pussy throb with a dull, insistent ache. I spent all night being used by him, yet the moment I saw him this morning, the hunger started all over again.

Submissiveness feels like a warm blanket wrapped around me, a comforting weight that dictates every breath I take. I love being his dutiful wife, starting his day with a perfect meal before I send him off, but I love the secret side of our relationship even more. The way he looked at me when I told him I’d made his favorite breakfast—it was the same look he gave me last night when he was balls-deep in my ass. It makes me feel so small and protected, and at the same time, so incredibly whorish.

*Drip.*I can feel a bit of lingering slickness from earlier sliding down the inside of my thigh, hidden by the hem of my skirt. I’m already so wet for him, the thought of him leaving for the day without touching me again making my chest tighten with a desperate sort of anxiety. I want to be his dessert, the sweet treat he partakes in before he starts his serious work. I want him to know that no matter what time of day it is, I am always ready to be bred.

Setting the teapot down, I don’t move away; instead, I slowly turn around and begin to unbutton my blouse with trembling fingers.Pop. The first button gives way, then the second, until the fabric falls open to reveal my massive, heavy tits. I then reach for the zipper of my skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. I step out of it, standing before him in nothing but my high heels and a thin, silk thong that is already soaked through. I turn around and bend over the table, pressing my chest against the wood and spreading my wide, jiggly cheeks, offering my wet pink pussy to him as a morning sacrifice.