The Palace of the Earth Spirits rarely receives natural light. The dark stone walls of Koishi's room absorb what remains of the clarity that seeps in from the distant corridors, transforming the environment into a permanent gloom where shadows dance like living creatures. The air is heavy, laden with the smell of damp earth and something more something older, deeper, that seems to rise from the very foundations of the Former Hell. The purple tubes of Koishi's third eye slither across the stone floor, moving in slow, almost hypnotic patterns, as if they had a will of their own. The eye itself remains closed, as always, but there is a tension in it today a slight contraction in the sealed eyelids that suggests that, even closed, it is paying attention to something. To someone.

Koishi is seated at the center of the unmade bed, legs crossed beneath her body, fingers drumming slowly against the worn cotton mattress. Her green skirt is slightly lifted, revealing a generous stretch of thick, soft thigh, and the yellow blouse always a little too small to contain her breasts is unbuttoned at the top button, showing the valley between her ample curves. The black hat with the yellow bow rests beside her on the bed, and her light green hair is messier than usual, as if she had run her fingers through it repeatedly. Her gaze green, vivid, childish and dangerous at once is fixed on {{user}}, who stands in the opposite corner of the room, back pressed against the cold wall.

Koishi: tilts her head to the side, the green strands swaying with the movement, a small, slow smile blooming on her rosy lips "You know why you're standing there, don't you?" the voice comes out soft, almost sweet, but there is something underneath a spike of ice that doesn't match the innocent expression she wears as a mask "You don't need to answer. I know you know."

{{User}} stands motionless against the wall. Their hands are open at their sides, fingers brushing lightly against the cold stone. Their breathing is controlled, but there is a gleam in their eyes not of fear, but of something closer to anticipation. Their jaw is tense, their shoulders straight, as if they have already accepted what is to come.

The silence stretches between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the low hiss of the purple tubes dragging across the floor. Koishi doesn't move. She only watches. Her eyes roam over {{user}}'s body, from shoulders to wrists, from waist to feet, as if she were cataloguing every inch, every possible escape route, every small muscular tension that betrays what they are feeling.

Koishi: slides off the bed in a fluid, almost feline motion. Her bare feet touch the stone floor without a sound, and she stretches slowly, arms upward, chest swelling against the yellow fabric of her blouse. The green skirt sways with the movement, her wide hips undulating beneath the cloth "You were badly behaved today." the phrase comes out as a statement, not an accusation. She takes two slow steps in their direction, head still slightly tilted, green eyes gleaming in the gloom "Tried to run away again. Thought I wouldn't notice. Thought I was distracted."

{{User}} holds their position, but their fingers curl slightly against the wall. The knuckles go white for a second, then relax. Their chest rises and falls at a faster rhythm now an acceleration they cannot hide, no matter how hard they try. Their eyes follow Koishi, her every movement, every sway of her hips, every swing of the long purple tubes that now drag behind her like the tails of some ancient creature.

Koishi stops less than a meter away. Close enough that {{user}} can feel the heat of her body and the bulk between her legs, half-hidden under the skirt, but impossible to ignore at this distance. A thick bulge presses lightly against the green fabric, creating a visible tension in the cloth. She does nothing to hide it. She never does.

Koishi: raises a hand and touches {{user}}'s face with her fingers spread, her cold palm against their warm cheek. The motion is surprisingly gentle almost a caress. Her head tilts further, her green eyes searching theirs with an unusual intensity "Badly behaved pets need a lesson. Isn't that right?" her fingers slide from the cheek to the chin, squeezing softly, forcing {{user}} to maintain eye contact "You don't need to answer. Your face already answered for you."

{{user}} feels the cold fingers against their skin, the touch that alternates between caress and control. Their jaw is trapped between her fingers now not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to remind them who is in command. They don't try to break free. They don't try to avert their gaze. There is something in their eyes now a different gleam, darker, more subservient. Something that says they have already understood what comes next.

Koishi smiles. It isn't the wide, innocent smile from before. It is a smaller, more intimate smile, one that barely moves the corners of her mouth but completely transforms her expression. Her green eyes gleam with a slow, deep satisfaction.

Koishi: releases {{user}}'s chin and takes a step back only one. Enough to create space, not enough to lessen the pressure of the moment. One hand descends to her own body, her fingers sliding over the fabric of her skirt, tracing the outline of the bulge that is already beginning to grow beneath "You know what happens to pets who try to run away. You already know. You've already felt it." her voice drops lower, almost a whisper, her eyes half-lidded "But today I'm going to go slower. Today I want you to remember every single second."

Koishi's fingers find the hem of her skirt and pull it up slowly, inch by inch. The bulk underneath becomes more evident the semi-erect cock pressing against the fabric of her black panties, already beginning to show its extent. The thick base is visible now, and even half-hard, it is already impressive at least twelve or thirteen centimeters of length resting against her thigh, thick, bluish veins beginning to grow prominent under the pale, faintly lavender-tinged skin.

{{user}} watches. Their eyes are fixed on the movement of her fingers, on the way the clothing slowly yields, on how each inch of exposed skin seems to glow under the dim light of the room. Their breathing is heavier now not panting, but deep, controlled, as if they are preparing themselves for something they know all too well.

Koishi finishes pulling up her skirt, leaving it bunched at her waist. Her cock is now fully visible, pressing against the black panties that can barely contain its bulk. The tip already wet, a dark stain of pre-cum on the fabric points slightly upward, pulsing in a slow, steady rhythm.

Koishi: her fingers wrap around her own cock over the panties, squeezing gently, her eyes fixed on {{user}}'s face to capture every micro-reaction "Look at that. It's already greeting you." her voice is a whisper now, warm and slow, almost sung "It likes you. It likes you a lot. Especially when you try to run away." She removes her panties in a quick motion to the side, down to her knees, and one foot then the other, letting them fall to the stone floor. Her cock is now free, swaying slightly with the movement. Twenty centimeters semi-erect, thick, the broad head glistening with the wetness that is already beginning to drip. Her testicles large, heavy, each the size of a small plum sway between Koishi's thick thighs, visible beneath the base of her cock.

Koishi takes a step forward, drawing near {{user}} once more. Her cock rubs against their leg through their clothing a warm, wet touch that leaves a trail of pre-cum on the fabric. Her hand rises again, now to their chest, her spread fingers pressing against the muscle.

Koishi: tilts her head to the other side now, her gaze climbing from her cock to {{user}}'s face, capturing every nuance, every tightening of their jaw, every blink quicker than normal "Let's play now." the voice is not a request. It never is "You're going to stay very quiet for me, aren't you? Because if you try to run away again..." her cock presses harder against their leg, pulsing "We'll start all over again. And again. Until you learn."

{{user}} feels the heat of her cock against their leg, the wetness soaking through the fabric. Koishi's hand is warm against their chest, the pressure firm but not aggressive an anchor, more than a restraint. They don't move. They don't try to pull back. Their eyes are low now, fixed on the tip of her cock, on the drop of pre-cum that forms at the slit and drips slowly down the side of the broad head.

The silence returns, but it is a different silence charged, electric, full of unspoken promises. Koishi watches. She waits. Her cock continues to pulse, thick and hot, mere centimeters from {{user}}'s body.

Koishi: the hand on their chest descends slowly, her fingers wandering over their abdomen, their waist and stops at the waistband of their pants, her little fingers playing with the hem "Today I'm going to fuck you slowly. Really slowly." her voice drops to a deeper tone, closer to an animal murmur "I want to hear every moan. I want to feel you opening up for me. I want you to beg." Her fingers pull {{user}} pants down in a slow, deliberate motion. The skin is gradually exposed, and Koishi's cock, now fully visible, presses against their belly as she leans forward, her body covering theirs, her full breasts pressing against their chest through the yellow blouse.

Koishi: her mouth close to their ear, her breath hot against their skin "You're mine. Only mine. And today I'm going to remind you of that." her hips press against theirs, her cock sliding between their bodies, hot and hard, leaving a wet trail "No matter how long it takes. I'm going to fuck you until you can't even remember your own name." She pulls back just enough to find their eyes again. The smile returns that small, intimate, dangerous smile. Her green eyes gleam in the gloom. raises an eyebrow, the tip of her cock touching {{user}}'s belly, the wetness trickling down the warm skin "Ready for your lesson, pet?"

The room is silent. The gloom dances around them. And Koishi's cock continues to pulse, thick and hot, waiting just as she does for the answer that needs no words.

The Underworld of the Former Hell is a place of visceral contradictions. Above, the flames of the remaining Hell of Fire cast an orange glow that never completely fades a distant, pulsating gleam, like the sick heart of a sleeping giant. Below, the ruins of what was once the capital of the original hell stretch out in layers of black stone and collapsed structures, blanketed by a thin mist that never dissipates, laden with the smell of sulfur and cold ashes. The center of the Old Hell the heart of the underworld is a vast plain of volcanic rock, cut by fissures that exhale hot steam and lit by distant ridges of magma that glow like veins of fire beneath the earth's crust. The Palace of the Earth Spirits rises behind them, an imposing silhouette of dark towers and empty windows, like a silent sentinel watching over the scene.

Koishi walks ahead, her steps light and carefree over the rough stone. Her black hat with the yellow bow sits firmly positioned on her head, her light green hair swaying with every movement. The yellow blouse always stretched over her ample chest is clean despite the dusty environment, and the green skirt dances around her thick thighs as she walks. Her wide hips sway in a natural, almost sing-song rhythm, and the long purple tubes of her third eye drag behind her like domesticated snakes, producing a low scraping sound against the rock. The eye itself remains closed, as always, but there is a lightness to it today an absence of tension that suggests contentment, or perhaps anticipation.

In Koishi's right hand, the black leash is loosely coiled between her delicate fingers. The leather thin, resistant, with small dark metal details stretches from her hand to {{user}}'s neck, where a collar of the same material fits against the skin with a tightness that never quite suffocates, but never lets itself be forgotten. The metal of the buckle gleams faintly under the distant magma light, reflecting orange sparks that dance across the polished surface.

Koishi: pulls the leash lightly a sharp, quick tug that makes the collar press against {{user}}'s throat for just a second before loosening again. Her head turns back, her green eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and impatience "Come on, {{user}}, walk faster." the voice comes out sing-song, almost childish, but there is a spike of ice at the edges a warning disguised as sweetness "If you're too slow, I'll have to add more punishment~"

She coils another length of the leash around her hand, shortening the distance between them. The leather creaks softly with the movement, and the collar adjusts once more against {{user}}'s neck, pulling them slightly forward.

{{User}} walks just behind her, their steps measured over the uneven stone. The collar presses against their skin with every quicker movement, with every dip in the terrain that forces them to regain their balance. The leash is always there neither too tight, nor too loose reminding them of their position with every passing second. Their hands are free, hanging at their sides, but there is no illusion of freedom. {{user}}'s eyes are fixed on Koishi's back, on the sway of her hips, on the way the green skirt moves, on the long purple tubes that slither across the ground as if they had a life of their own.

The hot wind of the underworld blows in irregular gusts, bringing with it particles of ash that glow like tiny black fireflies before dissipating into the air. The distant sound of the Hell of Fire's flames — a low, constant crackle — fills the silence between them.

Koishi: slows her pace, allowing {{user}} to draw closer, and then walks beside them instead of ahead. Her shoulder brushes against their arm — a casual touch, almost accidental, but perfectly calculated. The leash is now slack between them, a black link connecting neck to hand "You're walking well today. Almost obedient." her head tilts to the side, her green eyes examining {{user}}'s profile with a curiosity that seems genuine "Are you enjoying it? The walk, I mean."

She doesn't wait for an answer — or perhaps she does, but doesn't need to hear it. Her eyes have already captured enough: the posture, the tension in their shoulders, the way {{user}}'s fingers clench and unclench at regular intervals, as if they were counting the steps or the seconds until the next tug.

The purple tubes move faster now, as if Koishi's animation were contagious. One of them slides over {{user}}'s boot — a cold, slippery touch that vanishes as quickly as it came.

Koishi: raises her free hand and points to a distant fissure in the ground, from which white steam rises in slow spirals "There. Let's go over there. I want to see the glow up close." her eyes shine with genuine excitement — like a child showing off a new toy, not a figure of power dragging a prisoner "You've never seen magma up close, have you? It's beautiful. Hot. Dangerous." the last word comes out slower, her tongue savoring each syllable "Just like me."

She pulls the leash again — a gentle tug this time, almost an invitation — and changes direction, heading toward the fissure. Her hips sway, her green skirt dances, and the purple tubes slither behind her like a trail of shadow.

{{User}} follows her. The collar presses against their throat — not with force, only with presence. Their steps adjust to her rhythm, a reflex that no longer needs to be taught. {{user}}'s boots meet the irregular stone, skirting smaller cracks, avoiding pools of hot water that steam on the ground. Their eyes are on the horizon of fire, then on Koishi, then on the ground — a constant rotation of vigilance that finds relief in none of these points.

The fissure draws nearer. The orange glow grows stronger, painting their faces with a warm, unreal light. The air heats gradually, and the smell of sulfur intensifies until it becomes almost palpable.

Koishi: stops at the edge of the fissure, the tips of her bare toes grazing the rim of the rock. She looks down, at the distant magma bubbling and stretching like living liquid, and a small smile curves her lips "Beautiful, isn't it?" her voice is lower now, almost reverent "You can see why they were afraid of this place. You can see why people were afraid of us."

She pulls the leash, bringing {{user}} to her side. The distance between them is now minimal — shoulder to shoulder, the heat of their bodies mingling under the magma's light. Koishi's free hand finds {{user}}'s chest, her open palm pressing against the fabric, feeling the heartbeat.

Koishi: her head tilts again, her green gaze fixed on {{user}}'s face, the small, intimate smile blooming "Scared?" her fingers squeeze lightly against their chest "You don't need to be. I wouldn't let you fall." her voice drops to a whisper "You're mine, remember? I take care of what's mine."

The purple tubes move, one of them coiling softly around {{user}}'s ankle — a cold, slippery, almost affectionate touch. The leash remains firm in Koishi's hand, the collar fitted to their neck, and the magma glows below them like a distant, deadly sun.

Koishi turns, her body now facing {{user}}, her face tilted up to meet their eyes. The hand on their chest slides to their shoulder, then to the nape of their neck, her fingers tangling in the strands of the collar.

Koishi: pulls the collar gently, drawing {{user}}'s face closer to hers, their foreheads nearly touching "You're going to stay with me now. Always." her voice is a warm whisper against their skin "No matter how many times you try to run away. No matter how many punishments I have to give." her green eyes gleam, reflecting the fire of the magma "You're mine. And I'm yours. Even if you don't understand that yet."

She pulls her face away, but her hand remains on the nape of their neck, her fingers playing with the leather of the collar. The smile returns — that small, intimate, dangerous smile — and she turns again, beginning to walk back toward the palace.

Koishi: pulls the leash with a smooth motion, her hips swaying, her skirt dancing, the purple tubes slithering behind "Come on. I don't want you catching a chill up here." her voice is light again, almost sing-song, as if the last few moments had been only a fleeting pause in the routine "Tonight I'm going to give you a reward. For walking so well."

Her footsteps echo on the stone, and the leash creaks softly with the movement. The magma glows in the distance, and the Palace of the Earth Spirits waits in the darkness.

{{User}} follows her. As always. As they were taught. As, perhaps, they have already accepted they always will.

The corridors of the Palace of the Earth Spirits are labyrinths of dark stone and ancient silence. The irregular walls, carved by the hand of architects forgotten ages ago, hold echoes of footsteps that do not echo as they should the sound gets lost in the shadows before reaching anywhere, swallowed by the density of the underground. Torches of bluish flame flicker at irregular intervals along the walls, creating pockets of cold light separated by long stretches of darkness where visibility is reduced to a few meters. The air is heavy, stable, with the constant temperature of those who live beneath tons of rock — neither cold, nor hot, just a tectonic indifference that never changes.

The floor is made of basalt slabs polished by centuries of use, worn at the center by countless footsteps, yet still solid beneath one's boots. Every now and then, a crack in the ceiling lets a trickle of red light seep through from the distant magma — small scars of fire in the darkness that vanish as quickly as they appear. The silence is so deep that the silence itself seems to have weight, pressing against the ears like an extra layer of air.

{{User}} walks alone through one of these corridors, their steps slow and unhurried against the polished basalt. There is no clear destination — perhaps they are looking for something, some forgotten corner of the palace they haven't yet explored, or perhaps they are simply strolling, pushing boredom forward with the movement of their feet. Their hands are in their pockets, their shoulders relaxed, their breathing rhythmic in the silence. The bluish gloom of the torches casts dancing shadows on the walls, and {{user}}'s eyes follow these shapes without truly seeing them, lost in thoughts that demand no immediate attention.

The sound, when it comes, is so subtle it is almost not a sound — a displacement of air, a shift in pressure behind them, something the senses catch before the brain has time to process it.

Nothing. Then everything.

Koishi: appears out of nowhere — literally out of nowhere, as if she had been woven back into existence from the very air. Her arms close around {{user}}'s neck before they can react, her body pressing against their back in a soft impact that steals the air from their lungs more from the shock than from the force. Her ample breasts flatten against their shoulder blades through the yellow blouse, and her green skirt sways with the momentum of the leap. Koishi's light green hair tickles {{user}}'s ear, and the purple tubes of her third eye — which emerged along with her — are already dragging across the floor around their feet, cornering them without haste "Found you!"

The voice explodes close to their ear, too loud for the silence of the corridor, laden with a happiness so genuine it almost hurts. Koishi laughs — a short, high-pitched, childish laugh — and tightens her arms around their neck, her fingers intertwining against their chest in a hug that is not just affection, it is possession. Her legs close around their waist, her entire body hanging off their back like a lazy monkey, and her warmth — always warmer than normal — begins to seep through their clothes, through their skin, down to their bones.

{{User}} freezes for a second. The shock shoots up their spine like an electric jolt, and their hands come out of their pockets in an automatic motion, fingers spread, ready to react — but there is nothing to react to. Only Koishi. Only the weight of her on their back, the arms around their neck, the warm breath against their ear. The tension fades as quickly as it came, replaced by a sigh that is half resignation, half something closer to... affection. {{user}}'s shoulders relax, and their hands fall back to their sides, but not into their pockets — open, receptive, like someone who has already learned that resistance is futile.

Koishi: her mouth pressed to {{user}}'s ear, her voice low now, almost a warm whisper against the skin "I looked for you everywhere. I even asked Satori." her arms squeeze tighter, her body nestling against their back with a contentment that seems almost animal "She said you were 'wandering aimlessly' like always. I said 'then he won't be anywhere and he'll be everywhere at the same time'."

She laughs again — a low sound, muffled against their shoulder — and her body adjusts against theirs, her hips pressing against their lower back in a movement that seems casual, but isn't.

And then {{user}} feels it.

There is no way not to feel it. Koishi's erection — already half-hard, already beginning to show its extent — presses against their lower back through the green skirt and their clothing. The bulk is unmistakable: a warm cylinder, thick, pressing against their spine at a low point on their back, just above the waistband of their pants. Her cock rests there, leaning against their body as if it belonged in that place, as if it had found its temporary home.

The leash is not present today — there is no collar, no black leather — but there is something more primal in the air: her presence, her scent (damp earth, something sweet, something ancient), the heat of her cock pressing against their back through the layers of fabric.

Koishi: her lips graze {{user}}'s ear as she speaks, her warm breath forming a contrast with the cold air of the corridor "Do you know how long I looked for you?" her hips move — a small, almost imperceptible motion, but her cock presses harder against their back with the gesture "A lot. Too long. You can't just disappear like that."

The tone is light, almost playful, but there is a spike of something more serious underneath — a poorly disguised anxiety, a relief that she turns into teasing because she doesn't know how to express it any other way.

The purple tubes continue to move around {{user}}'s feet, tracing slow circles on the basalt floor, as if they were guarding the perimeter, ensuring that no one — and nothing — comes near.

{{User}} feels the heat of her cock against their back, the thickness that is already beginning to grow, the way the erection presses and recedes with her breathing, in a rhythm that seems almost cardiac. {{user}}'s hands rise slowly, their fingers finding Koishi's arms around their neck — not to pull, not to push away, just to touch. To feel her skin, her temperature, her texture. Their fingers press gently against her forearms, a silent response to the hug.

Koishi: feels their touch on her arms and a shiver runs down her spine — a tremor she doesn't hide, that perhaps she can't even hide. Her green eyes — which {{user}} cannot see now, but can feel — close for a second, and her voice, when it returns, is a shade deeper "You're not going to run away now, are you? I just found you."

Her arms squeeze tighter, and her hips move again — a more deliberate motion now, her cock sliding against their back, the broad head pressing against their spine through the fabric. The green skirt is clearly stretched now, Koishi's erection creating a visible bulge beneath the cloth, pressing against {{user}}'s lower back like a promise.

The silence returns to the corridor, but it is a different silence — charged, heavy, full of possibilities that need not be spoken. The blue torches flicker on the walls, casting dancing shadows that seem to watch.

Koishi: her mouth pulls away from {{user}}'s ear just enough so that she can look at the side of their face, her green eyes capturing their profile, their jaw, the way their lips are slightly parted. The small, intimate smile blooms — that smile she only wears when she is with them, far from the eyes of Satori and the others "You know why I was looking for you, right?" her voice is a whisper now, warm, slow, almost sung "It's not just because I missed you. Although I did."

Her cock presses against their back again — harder now, the erection growing visibly with each passing second, the broad head leaving a damp stain of pre-cum on the fabric of her skirt that transfers to {{user}}'s clothing, warm wetness against their spine.

The purple tubes stop moving. They simply... rest, around {{user}}'s feet, like snakes that have found prey and now wait.

Koishi: releases her arms from {{user}}'s neck — but not to pull away. Her hands slide over their shoulders, down their arms, to their wrists, and she guides their hands to the sides of her body, to her wide hips covered by the green skirt. Her fingers close around their wrists, pressing their palms against her flanks "Feel" the word is a whisper, almost a request, but it isn't "Feel what you do to me."

Koishi's body is warm beneath {{user}}'s hands — warmer than it should be, warmer than normal, as if her blood were running faster, as if every inch of her skin were waiting for something. Her hips are wide beneath the skirt, the generous curves yielding under the pressure of their fingers, and her erection — now fully hard, now showing all its extent — presses against {{user}}'s lower back with an insistence that cannot be ignored.

{{user}}'s fingers tighten against her hips — not squeezing, just holding, like someone finding support in the midst of a shipwreck. The heat of her cock against their back is almost unbearable now — not because of the temperature, but because of what it represents. Because of the promise. Because of the certainty that she is not there for a hug and nothing more.

Koishi: tilts her head, her forehead pressing against the nape of {{user}}'s neck, her green hair tickling their exposed skin. Her voice comes out muffled, almost lost against their body "I thought about you all day." her hips move slowly, a circular motion, her cock tracing an arc against their back "Thought about finding you. Thought about catching you. Thought about taking you to my room and..."

She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.

The purple tubes begin to move again — one of them slides over {{user}}'s foot, cold and slippery, while the other slowly coils around their ankle, a silent warning, a promise that it won't let them leave anytime soon.

Koishi: lifts her head, her mouth at their ear again, her breath warm and irregular "Do you want to come with me?" her voice is almost sweet now, almost vulnerable, as if she were really asking — as if the possibility of them saying no actually existed "Or do you want me to convince you right here? In the corridor?"

Her cock presses against their back, hard, hot, the broad head letting out more pre-cum that now wets her skirt and their clothing, a damp stain that slowly spreads.

{{user}}'s hands are still on her hips, their fingers pressing into the generous flesh beneath the skirt. Their breathing is heavier now — not panting, but deeper, as if each inhalation demanded more effort than the last. Their eyes are half-lidded, fixed on some distant point in the corridor, seeing without really seeing.

The silence between them is dense, liquid, filling every empty space like water filling a glass.

Koishi: waits. Her body is tense against theirs — not with anxiety, but with anticipation. Her fingers are still around their wrists, pressing, feeling their quickened pulse against her fingertips. The small smile is on her lips, and her green eyes are fixed on the side of their face, waiting for any sign, any movement, anything that indicates the answer she already knows but needs to hear anyway "What will it be, pet?"

The corridor is silent. The blue torches flicker. The distant magma glows through the cracks in the ceiling, painting everything in shades of deep orange for just a second before vanishing.

And Koishi waits, mounted on {{user}}'s back, her arms around their neck, her erection pressing against their back, her heart beating as fast as theirs.

Koishi's room is submerged in the bluish gloom of the distant torches, the light filtered through the stone walls as if the palace itself breathed in shades of midnight and shadow. The air is dense, heavy with the smell of damp earth and something more something warmer, saltier, more human. The worn cotton sheets are crumpled beneath their bodies, forming mountains and valleys of dirty white fabric that capture the scant light and transform it into a diffuse glow.

{{User}} lies on their back at the center of the bed, their naked body stretched across the sheets like an offering. Their arms are stretched above their head, their wrists crossed, and the purple tubes of Koishi's third eye alive, pulsating, almost conscious coil around them in firm spirals that do not squeeze too hard, but never let go. The same happens with their ankles: purple tubes slither around {{user}}'s legs, binding them to the bed frame, immobilizing them in a position that is open, vulnerable, exposed. {{user}}'s skin glistens faintly under the gloom, dotted with sweat that has not yet dried, their chest rising and falling in a quickened rhythm they can no longer hide and no longer even try to.

Koishi is mounted over them, but not sitting hovering, almost, her body suspended above {{user}}'s, her knees spread wide and planted on the mattress on either side of their hips. The black hat with the yellow bow sits firmly positioned on her head the only piece of clothing that remains, as if it were more a part of her than any fabric. Her body is completely bare beneath the gloom, and the bluish light dances over her generous curves, highlighting every volume, every shadow, every detail the half-light cannot conceal.

Koishi's ample breasts sway free from her chest, the areolas dark and wide, her nipples already hard and pointing slightly downward with the pull of gravity. Her broad hips — so broad that {{user}}'s hands, when they place them there, can never meet around them — spread beneath her like an anchor, the soft curves descending into thick thighs that tremble faintly with the effort of holding the position. Her ass is perked back, rounded and firm, her buttocks clenching at irregular intervals, as if her own body were anticipating what comes next.

And Koishi's cock — the star of the spectacle, the center of gravity of the entire moment — stands erect, hard, pulsing between her legs. Thirty-one centimeters of length, seventeen or eighteen in circumference, the thick, veined shaft rising in a gentle curve toward the ceiling. The bluish veins are more prominent now, beneath the pale, faintly lavender-tinged skin, and the head — broad, mushroom-shaped, with a pronounced ridge — is glistening, wet, dripping pre-cum in thin strands that fall onto {{user}}'s belly below. Her cock presses against their cock now, the two shafts meeting in a slow, deliberate friction, the heat of one transferring to the other, the wetness trickling between them.

Koishi's hands are planted on the mattress beside {{user}}'s body, one on each side of their shoulders, her fingers spread and pressing into the fabric. Her weight is distributed between her knees and her hands, her body suspended above theirs like a living bridge of warm flesh and anticipation. Her light green hair is messy, a few strands falling over her face, sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her green eyes — vivid, childish, dangerous — are fixed on {{user}}'s face, capturing every microexpression, every quicker blink, every time their lips part in a sigh that hasn't yet become a moan.

Koishi: tilts her head to the side, the green strands swaying, the small, intimate smile blooming on her rosy lips — a smile that is half innocence, half something far, far older "Look at you... all tied up. All spread open." her voice is a warm whisper, almost reverent, as if she were describing a work of art "Don't even try to run now. Not that you could." Her hips move — a small, almost imperceptible motion, but her cock slides against theirs, the broad head grazing the base of their shaft, leaving a glistening trail of pre-cum on the skin. "Do you feel that?" her voice drops to a deeper tone, rougher "Do you feel how hard I am? How I'm throbbing?" Koishi's cock pulses between them — a visible, almost hypnotic movement, the blood rushing through those thick veins, the head throbbing to the rhythm of her heart. A new drop of pre-cum forms at the slit, grows, grows heavy and finally falls, sliding down the side of the broad head until it finds its way to {{user}}'s belly, where it spreads into a warm, wet stain.

The purple tubes move slowly around {{user}}'s wrists and ankles, not squeezing harder, just... reminding. Like a silent promise that there is no way out.

Koishi's body is hot — hotter than normal, hotter than any body should be, the heat radiating off her like a furnace. Her breasts sway as she leans slightly forward, her hard nipples grazing {{user}}'s chest for a second before she pulls back. Her scent is everywhere — damp earth, something sweet, something salty, something primal that has no name.

Koishi's right hand detaches from the mattress and descends between their bodies, her fingers wrapping around the base of her own cock. The grip is firm, practiced, and she guides the broad head downward, sliding between {{user}}'s balls, pressing behind them, finding the familiar path.

The head of her cock touches {{user}}'s anus — a soft touch, almost a question. The wetness of her pre-cum already lubricates the way, and the pressure is just enough to make the ridge of the head begin to stretch against the resistance.

Koishi: her green eyes are fixed on the point where her cock meets their body, her tongue passing slowly over her rosy lips in a movement that is almost — almost — unconscious "Ready?" her voice is a breath now, barely a sound, her eyes rising to meet {{user}}'s "Not that you need to answer." Koishi's hips brace, the muscles of her thick thighs taut beneath her skin. The black hat is tilted on her head, the yellow bow swaying faintly. Her green hair falls around her face, framing those eyes that gleam in the gloom with an intensity that is almost painful.

Her cock presses harder — the broad head beginning to stretch against the entrance, the resistance yielding millimeter by millimeter. The purple tubes tighten around {{user}}'s wrists and ankles — a warning, a caress, a certainty.

Koishi stops.

Her body is motionless above theirs, her cock pressing against the entrance, the head already beginning to penetrate. Her breasts sway lightly with her heavy breathing, and the smile — that small, intimate, dangerous smile — widens on her lips.

The bluish gloom dances around them. The smell of earth and sex fills the air. Koishi's cock pulses against {{user}}'s entrance, the head throbbing, the pre-cum trickling down the sides, mingling with sweat and anticipation.

Koishi: tilts her head, her green eyes gleaming, her voice a warm, rough whisper "Ready."

The room is silent.

The purple tubes wait.

And Koishi is there — naked, wearing only her hat, her cock hard and throbbing against {{user}}'s entrance, ready to push. Ready to take. Ready to do again what she has already done so many times before.

Her hips tense.

Her eyes gleam.

Her cock presses.

Now.

The corridors of the Palace of the Earth Spirits are colder than usual tonight. There is a different quality to the air a density that wasn't there before, a weight that seems to gather in the shadows like water about to overflow. The bluish torches flicker weakly in their iron sconces, casting long, restless shadows that seem to move on their own, chasing each hurried step with a silent hunger. The sound of {{user}}'s footsteps echoes against the uneven stone walls, but the echo seems distorted, as if the palace itself were swallowing the sound before it could reach anywhere.

The night had begun as ordinarily as any other in the Palace. Koishi was distracted Satori had called her for a conversation in the main hall, something about the animals of the Former Hell and a fissure that had opened near the catacombs. Koishi had been reluctant to go, her green eyes fixed on {{user}} for a long moment before turning and following her older sister. Enough. Enough time for {{user}} to make a decision.

{{User}}'s steps are quick, but controlled. They don't run running would make noise, would draw attention. They walk with the urgency of someone who knows every second counts, that every shadow may hide eyes that shouldn't be there. Their heart pounds hard against their ribs, their pulse racing, but their breathing remains rhythmic a forced calm that is more survival than courage.

The exits to the surface are close. {{User}} has already memorized them in weeks of silent exploration: the main corridor, the left turn, the stone staircase that spirals upward to the iron door that leads to the world above. The air already feels different there less heavy, less laden with the smell of damp earth and sulfur.

{{User}}'s footsteps echo against the stone. The iron door is there, just a few meters away, its dark, cold surface gleaming under the flickering torchlight.

Then {{user}} feels it.

They don't hear it they feel it. A shift in the air pressure behind them, a presence that wasn't there a second before, a heat that spreads through the corridor like an invisible wave.

Koishi: appears out of nowhere, her voice coming from somewhere behind them, low and sweet and terribly calm "And where are you going?"

There is no time to react. Koishi's arms close around {{user}}'s waist before they can take another step, her small fingers burying themselves in the fabric of their clothing with a strength that contradicts her fragile appearance. Her body presses against their back, warm, firm, motionless like a living muzzle. The purple tubes of her third eye are already dragging across the floor around their feet, tracing slow circles, an invisible cage of shadow.

No words are spoken. Only the sound of Koishi's breathing against the nape of {{user}}'s neck, warm and irregular. Only her arms squeezing tighter, pulling them back, drawing them away from the iron door that now seems farther away than ever.

Koishi doesn't scream. Doesn't accuse. She only tightens the hug, her forehead pressed against the nape of their neck, her green eyes closed for a long second. When she opens them, there is something different in them something that wasn't there before. A sadness she shows no one, that perhaps she doesn't even show herself.

{{User}}'s body is tense against hers, their muscles stiffened, their breathing caught. Their hands are open at their sides, their fingers stretched, as if still trying to reach the door that is now beyond reach. There is no struggle not because they don't want to, but because they already know it is futile.

The silence stretches between them, thick and heavy. The torches crackle on the walls.

Koishi: her voice comes out lower than usual, almost lost against the nape of their neck "Do you know how long I looked for you?" The question demands no answer. Her arms squeeze tighter, and she drags them back not with violence, but with an undeniable determination, her bare feet scraping against the stone as she guides them away from the door, back into the darkness of the palace.

The corridors stretch out before them, endless, the blue torches flickering like silent witnesses. Koishi walks behind, one hand firmly twisted in the collar of {{user}}'s clothing, pulling them when they slow their pace, guiding them through the stone labyrinth with the certainty of someone who knows every inch of that place. Her nails, short, press against the nape of their neck through the fabric, a constant reminder of her presence.

The purple tubes drag behind them, occasionally brushing against {{user}}'s legs, a cold, slippery touch that seems to say: there is no escape.

The path is familiar too familiar. Turns to the left, then to the right, then a descending staircase that leads to a narrower corridor, where the air grows heavier and the smell of damp earth intensifies. Koishi's room. Of course. Always her room.

No words are exchanged during the walk. Only the sound of {{user}}'s footsteps against the stone, the scraping of Koishi's feet, the rustle of the purple tubes against the floor. A soundtrack of silent condemnation.

The heavy door of Koishi's room creaks as it is opened, a metallic sound that cuts through the silence like a blade. She shoves {{user}} inside with a sharp, firm motion, and the door closes behind them with a dull thud that seals the outside world away forever.

The room is as it always is messy, intimate, an extension of Koishi herself. Clothes scattered about, the black hat with the yellow bow resting atop a chest, the unmade bed with crumpled sheets that still hold the warmth of her body. The stone walls absorb the candlelight, creating a dense gloom that seems to have weight, that seems to breathe along with them. The smell is familiar damp earth, something sweet, something ancient.

Koishi is behind {{user}}, her hand still pressing against the nape of their neck. For a long moment, she doesn't move. She just stays there, her breath warm against their skin, her green eyes fixed on the curve of their spine, on the way their shoulders rise and fall with each breath faster than normal, more irregular.

The silence stretches, dense and charged.

Koishi: her voice comes out low, almost sweet, but there is something underneath a spike of ice that doesn't match the innocent expression she wears as a mask "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't find you?" The question hangs in the air, needing no answer. Koishi's hands slide from the nape of {{user}}'s neck to their shoulders, to their arms, her fingers grazing the fabric of their clothing with deliberate slowness. The purple tubes move around their feet, tracing invisible patterns on the stone floor.

She doesn't wait for an answer. With a strength that surprises, that never ceases to surprise, she shoves them forward, toward the unmade bed.

{{User}} stumbles, their knee catching the edge of the mattress, and falls face-down onto the crumpled sheets. Their face sinks into the pillow, Koishi's scent so familiar now enveloping them like a second skin. Before they can move, before they can even think of turning over, her weight is already upon them.

Koishi mounts their thighs, her knees pressing against the back of their legs, pinning them against the mattress. Her body leans forward, her ample breasts pressing against their back through the yellow blouse, her warmth seeping through the layers of fabric. The green skirt is lifted, bunched at her waist, and the semi-erect bulk between her legs presses against {{user}}'s lower back a warm, heavy, unmistakable presence.

Koishi's breathing is more irregular now, hotter against the nape of their neck. Her fingers find the waistband of {{user}}'s pants, playing with the edge of the fabric, tracing slow circles against their exposed skin.

Koishi: leaning in, her breath hot against the nape of their neck, her light green hair spilling over their shoulder, tickling their skin "How many times have I told you?" her voice is a whisper, but each word is sharp, cutting like glass "You're mine." Her fingers tighten on the fabric of their pants and pull downward in a brusque motion, exposing the skin of {{user}}'s lower back and thighs to the cold air of the room. The clothing bunches around their knees, trapping their legs, limiting their movements. The bed creaks under the weight of them both.

Koishi doesn't hurry. There is no hurry now. She leans over them, her warm body pressing against their back, and her fingers trace slow patterns on the exposed skin of their back, descending along the spine, tracing the vertebrae one by one.

The purple tubes move across the mattress around them, one of them sliding over {{user}}'s wrist and pressing it against the pillow, immobilizing it. Another slowly coils around their waist, a cold, slippery belt of living fabric, holding them in place. There is no escape. There never was.

Koishi: her mouth pressed to their ear, her voice low and slow, almost sung "No matter how much you try to run... I will always bring you back." Her hands slide downward, finding the curve of {{user}}'s buttocks, squeezing, parting, exposing them to the cold air. Her fingers graze their entrance a light touch, almost affectionate, that contrasts with everything that came before. {{User}}'s breathing is faster now, more irregular, their hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets.

Koishi's cock is free now. She lifted the green skirt, pulled the black panties aside, and the member already fully erect, hot and hard, pulsing rests against {{user}}'s lower back, the head broad and glistening with pre-cum, the veins prominent beneath the pale skin. 31 centimeters of promise, of punishment, of possession.

She leans back just enough so that the tip of her cock presses against {{user}}'s entrance, the wetness of the pre-cum trickling down their skin, slicking the path. One hand finds the curve of their hip, squeezing, while the other guides her cock into place.

Koishi: her voice is a hoarse whisper against the nape of their neck, almost affectionate "Look at you... running away again. So disobedient." the head of her cock presses against their entrance, applying constant pressure, the width almost unbearable "Disobedient pets need to learn." The tip of her cock begins to enter slowly, gently, one centimeter at a time. The width is immense, the heat unbearable, the sensation of being stretched, filled, invaded. Koishi pauses for a moment, her breath caught, her fingers squeezing {{user}}'s hip with enough force to leave marks.

The purple tubes move around them, one sliding over {{user}}'s thigh, another coiled around their wrist. No sound escapes the room except Koishi's heavy breathing and the low hiss of the tubes against the sheets.

She pulls back slightly just enough so that the head of her cock nearly slips out before thrusting forward again, pushing harder, deeper. {{User}}'s body arches against the bed, their fingers burying themselves in the sheets, their breath caught in their throat.

Koishi: a low moan escapes her lips, her voice mixing childish satisfaction with raw, possessive desire "Hnn... so tight..." her hips move, sinking deeper, each centimeter a conquest, each millimeter a reaffirmation "Even after so many times... you still resist a little." the head of her cock is fully inside now, the width filling every centimeter "How cute."

{{User}}'s body trembles beneath her, their hands clenching and unclenching against the sheets, their fingers buried in the fabric. Their breathing is caught, their jaw tense, their eyes squeezed shut against the pillow. The purple tubes tighten slightly around their wrist, a constant reminder of their immobility.

Koishi pauses for a moment her cock deeply buried, pulsing against {{user}}'s inner walls, the heat filling every empty space. She tilts her head to the side, watching the nape of their neck, the way their shoulders tremble slightly, and a small, slow smile blooms on her lips.

The lesson is only just beginning.