After the door clicks shut behind Hiro, a profound, eerie silence fills the house. Ken, in his room, is consumed by the images on his phone. He scrolls through the forbidden gallery: photos of Riko in her bikini, her D-cup breasts heaving, the small, tight curves of her ass exposed to his lens. Then, the video of her in her school uniform, agonizing self-portrait of her own masturbation. The sight, a testament to her utter humiliation, ignites a storm of conflicting emotions within him. His groin is hard, pulsing with a powerful, undeniable lust. He knows why Hiro was here.
The pieces of the puzzle—the photos, the threats, the chillingly confident swagger—slam together with a sickening clarity. He understands, with a horrifying certainty, that Hiro has been with Riko, that the degradation has been taken to a new, physical level. The thought of Hiro's hands on his sister's body, of his thrusts, of her eventual surrender, is a potent mix of revulsion and a perverse, unwanted excitement that he despises but cannot control. He gives in to the raw, animalistic urge, his hand moving furiously, his mind a chaotic swirl of forbidden images until he cums.
Meanwhile, in the cool, steaming solitude of her shower, Riko is adrift in a world of her own. The warm water cascades over her, a desperate attempt to wash away the feeling of Hiro's touch, the stain of his conquest. Her mind, however, is a relentless playback of the scene in her room. She can't believe it. She lost her virginity. To him. To a man she finds crude, disgusting, who represents everything she despises. Her body, once a source of pride and strength, now feels alien, violated. She feels a dull ache, a faint pain in her pussy from the brutal act. But, with a horrifying sense of betrayal, she also feels the lingering echoes of that raw, undeniable lust, a profound, unwelcome warmth that makes her skin prickle.
She hates herself for it, for her body's pliant response, for the way her resistance crumbled. She pushes the terrifying thoughts of what will happen next away, clinging to the only sliver of control she has left. "It's only for a month," she tells herself, her voice a fragile whisper against the noise of the shower. Just a month, and then she will be free. It is a promise, a fragile hope she clings to, a desperate attempt to comfort herself in the wake of her complete and utter violation.
The next day, a strange, suffocating normalcy hangs over the school. Riko moves through the hallways with a quiet grace, her expression a blank mask that betrays nothing of her ordeal. Ken, for his part, pretends to be just a normal student, his mind a chaotic swirl of guilt and forbidden images. He avoids Riko's gaze, fearing he'll see a reflection of his own complicity.
But Hiro, of course, isn't playing along.
After a class break, Ken finds himself alone in the classroom, a moment of solitude that quickly vanishes. Hiro is there, a silent, predatory presence. He sits beside Ken, not with aggression, but with a casual ease that's far more unsettling. His eyes hold a triumphant, knowing glint, and a low, mocking chuckle rumbles in his chest.
"You know, Ken," Hiro begins, his voice soft, almost friendly, "I'm not sure I ever properly thanked you." He leans in, his breath a warm whisper against Ken's ear, a sickening intimacy.
"For letting me have a little 'quality time' with your sister. You were a good boy. A very good boy."
Ken's stomach clenches. He knows what Hiro's referring to, the brutal reality of their private meeting. But hearing it directly, so casually, so dismissively, sends a cold wave of revulsion through him.
Hiro's voice drops lower, becoming a stream of lewd, degrading whispers. "She was incredible, Ken," he murmurs, his words painting a vivid, tormenting picture. "Even better than I could have dreamed. That pussy of hers... so tight, so wet. I bet she'd been saving it, just for me. And those breasts... a perfect handful, soft and heavy. I could have played with them all day. You have no idea what you're missing, Ken. You're a fool for not taking a taste of that yourself." He laughs softly, a low, triumphant sound.
Ken's face burns with shame. He clenches his fists, but a traitorous, unwelcome heat starts to spread through him. The vivid, lustful words, the undeniable truth of her body's response, the thought of Hiro's touch on his sister's flesh… it's a perverse combination of fury and arousal that he can't control.
"You should be proud, Ken," Hiro continues, his voice thick with unmasked lust. "You have such a beautiful sister. So hot. And now, she's mine. I own her. And you, Ken... you're a good little brother for letting it happen. Just think of the possibilities for the future."
Hiro leaves Ken with a final, smug grin, making his way directly to the student council office. He finds the door locked. A quiet sense of triumph washes over him; she's hiding. She wants her own space, a sanctuary from the new reality he's forced upon her. He simply smiles, knowing that sanctuary no longer exists. He pulls out the spare key he acquired and opens the door, finding Riko inside. She looks up, her eyes widening in a mixture of horror and resignation.
"Takeda-kun," she whispers, her voice a raw, broken plea. "Please, just leave."
Hiro shakes his head, a playful, taunting smile on his lips. "Why, Riko-chan? You should be happy. Your boyfriend's here." He closes the door behind him, the lock clicking with an ominous finality. "Don't you miss me? I know I miss you."
He moves toward her, his gaze sweeping over her with a possessive heat. "I've been thinking about our time in your room," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky purr. "About how soft your body was, how full your breasts felt in my hands. About how wet you were for me." He watches her face, the involuntary flush, the way her breath hitches. He's deliberately invoking the memories of their intimate moments, of her body's betrayal, to stimulate her.
He reaches her, his hands moving with a practiced, confident ease. He places a hand on her slender waist, and she feels her body subtly tense. But this time, the resistance is fleeting. The touch feels familiar now, a devastatingly quick trigger. The icy wall she once had is completely gone. A profound, unsettling heat blooms in her core, a quick and undeniable response. The lustful feeling is there almost instantly, a terrifyingly swift reaction that sends a shiver of humiliation and unwanted pleasure through her. Hiro's smile widens; he knows her body is already his, and now it responds to his will without a fight.
Riko tries to pull away, her voice a desperate whisper. "You can't be here, Takeda-kun. Someone might enter." The thought of being caught in this position, in the very heart of her authority, is a fresh wave of humiliation.
Hiro's smile doesn't falter. He simply pulls her closer, his gaze burning into hers. "That's what makes it exciting, Riko-chan. The thrill of being so close to danger. But don't worry, your boyfriend will protect you." His words are a chilling promise, a reminder of his power.
Then, with a sudden, decisive move, his hand finds the buttons of her blouse. He unfastens the first two, his fingers brushing against her skin, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down her spine. Her shirt slightly opens, and he can see the delicate curve of her cleavage, the soft, pale skin of her upper breasts. He lets out a low, appreciative hum, his eyes devouring the sight.
Before she can react, his hand moves again, finding the hooks of her bra. With a swift, practiced motion, he unfastens it, pulling the delicate garment away from her body. He then, with a confident, possessive gesture, puts it into the pocket of his pants.
Riko gasps, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. "What... what are you doing?" she whispers, her voice thick with disbelief. "Why did you take my bra?"
Hiro's smile widens, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Just a little souvenir, Riko-chan. A reminder of our time together." He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You can stay here until the school ends, or you can come and retrieve it from me after the next break. It's your choice." He then turns and walks out of the room, leaving Riko standing alone, her shirt open, her bra in his pocket, and her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear.
Riko stares at herself in the council room's mirror, her mind reeling. Her shirt is buttoned, but it's a futile attempt at modesty. Without her bra, the fabric clings to her D-cup breasts, outlining their full, round shape with an undeniable clarity. The way the buttons pull, the soft shadows created by the fluorescent light, the subtle jiggle with every breath—it's so sexy and painfully obvious. She knows. She knows everyone will see, that her secret is now a public spectacle. A wave of profound shame washes over her, but beneath it, a terrifying, wild sense of abandon, a strange excitement at the thought of being so exposed.
After the first break, her phone pings with a message from Hiro: the old, abandoned locker room near the back fields. He demands that she arrive with her shirt unbuttoned just as he left her, a direct command that sends a shiver of fear and complicity through her. With trembling hands, she unfastens the buttons, leaving the top half of her shirt open, and grabs a book to hold in front of her chest, a flimsy, pathetic shield for her exposed body.
As she makes her way through the school, she's a nervous wreck, her eyes darting around, her heart pounding. The old locker room is exactly as she remembers it—grimy, smelling of stale sweat and cigarette smoke. She feels a sliver of relief, thinking at least this place is a quiet, hidden corner of the school. But her thought is wrong. As she pushes open the heavy, metal door and steps inside, she finds not an empty room, but a small group of senior boys, their leering faces fixed on her.
Hiro steps forward, a chilling smile on his face. In his hand, he holds a crinkled paper bag. "Riko-chan," he says, his voice dripping with a false welcome, "I'm so glad you could make it."
Before she can respond, he makes his move. With a swift, practiced motion, he snatches the book from her trembling hands. Riko gasps, utterly surprised, her last flimsy defense gone. Her chest is now coverless, her unbraed D-cup breasts heaving in a vulnerable, exposed state. She instinctively tries to cross her arms, but Hiro smoothly steps between her and the table.
She pretends to ignore the small group of boys, her head held high, a desperate attempt to cling to her pride. She recognizes them—the ugly faces who are outcasts, the fringe students who wouldn't dare to make eye contact with her in the hallway. Now, their eyes are fixed on her breasts, devouring her with a raw, unapologetic lust.
Hiro, relishing her discomfort, introduces her to each of them by name. "Boys," he announces, his voice thick with a triumphant sneer, "this is Riko Kurosawa. The student council president." He makes sure to emphasize her status, a deliberate, cruel reminder of the chasm between her world and theirs.
One by one, they step forward to shake her hand, their touches lingering. A boy with acne and greasy hair holds her hand a moment too long, his thumb stroking her palm. Another, thick and clumsy, grips her hand firmly, his gaze burning into her cleavage.
One of them, a lanky boy with a cruel smirk, leans in close, his eyes raking over her exposed chest. "That's a pretty view, Riko-san," he whispers, his voice thick with lust. "You should do this more often. It really… suits you." A chorus of lewd comments and crude laughter erupts, all of them checking her out lustfully, their eyes a physical violation of her bare body. The humiliation is complete; Riko's privacy, her dignity, and her carefully constructed image are being systematically dismantled for a public audience.
Hiro's hand, a possessive brand against Riko's waist, tightens its grip. "See, guys?" he says, his voice dripping with triumphant bravado, "you can all rely on Riko here. She's the council president, after all. She'll manage to make everyone comfortable." He looks at her, his eyes daring her to contradict him. "Isn't that right, Riko-san?"
A cold smirk, a flicker of defiance that is all she has left, touches Riko's lips. "Yes," she replies, the word a sharp blade of sarcasm. "You can rely on me."
Hiro's grip moves from her waist, sliding upwards. His fingers, now brazenly in front of her, brush against her D-cup breasts, then press, subtly but firmly, from below, pushing them up and out. The flimsy fabric of her blouse strains, and her chest is pushed out, her shape clearly and undeniably displayed for all to see. The guys in the room let out a collective, satisfied murmur, their eyes devouring the sight. "See?" Hiro says, his smile widening. "I told you. She's already making you all really comfortable."
One of the boys, a lanky kid with a face full of acne, lets out a choked sound, unable to hold back his words any longer. "Goddamn, Hiro," he whispers, his voice thick with lust, "those D-cups... I knew she was hiding something, but holy shit."
Riko pulls away from Hiro's grasp, her body trembling with a mixture of shame and fury. "This is enough, Takeda-kun," she says, her voice a low, raw whisper. "I've done what you asked. I'm leaving."
Hiro simply smiles, his eyes burning with a possessive satisfaction. "As you wish, Riko-chan. Just wait for my message." He lets his gaze sweep over her one last time, lingering on her D-cup breasts straining against her thin blouse. "You know," he adds, his voice a low, triumphant purr, "you're even more lovely and more sexy without a bra."
A chorus of lewd murmurs and nods of agreement from the boys confirms his words. Riko's face burns with humiliation. She turns and practically runs out of the room, her shoulders hunched, her head down, a stark contrast to her usual confident stride. She leaves the room, a profound sense of violation and shame clinging to her.
Riko hurries back to the council room, her shoulders hunched, the weight of her humiliation a physical burden. She slams the door shut, locking it with trembling hands, and leans against it, her heart pounding. The room, once her sanctuary, now feels like a prison.
She reaches into the paper bag Hiro handed her, her fingers fumbling, expecting to find her bra. Instead, her hands close around a garment that feels nothing like her lacey underwear. She pulls it out, and a cold shock runs through her.
It's a transparent, pinky bunny costume. The fabric is sheer, almost non-existent, and the design is a blatant, provocative parody of an innocent costume, with a tiny, white cotton tail at the back. It's incredibly revealing, leaving little to the imagination.
She stares at the costume in her hand, her mind reeling. She grabs her phone and her fingers fly across the screen, her message to Hiro a desperate plea for an explanation. "Takeda-kun, what is this? This is not my bra. What does this mean?"
The reply is instant.
"That's your costume for tonight, Riko-chan," his message reads, the words a cold, chilling command. "I want photos of you wearing it. Send them to me tonight. Otherwise, you'll be meeting with my friends next time. And I can't guarantee you'll have such a... private audience."
Riko stares at the words, her mind a whirlwind of shock, fear, and a terrifying, unholy mixture of rage and wildness. The image of the grotesque bunny costume in her hands, combined with the memory of the boys' leering faces and Hiro's chilling ultimatum, ignites a storm of conflicting emotions. Her body trembles, but it's not just from fear. A strange, primal anger, a desperate, unhinged fury, begins to simmer beneath the surface. She is shocked and wild at the same time, her body reacting with a strange heat that she can't control.