The Night Tanaka Takes Everything
It is past eleven when the boys finally fall asleep.
Sarada stands in the dark hallway, phone clenched in her trembling hand.
The last message glows on the screen:
Unknown:
Door's unlocked.
Bring the older one.
Wear what you had on this afternoon.
Nothing underneath.
She looks at Shin-chan's door, then Yu-chan's.
Her heart is a drum of terror and surrender.
She chooses Shin-chan, the one Tanaka specifically asked for, because Yu-chan is smaller, sleeps deeper, and because she is too much of a coward to risk both sons tonight.
She wakes Shin-chan gently, finger to her lips.
"Mommy needs your help with something important," she whispers.
He rubs his eyes, trusting, and lets her slip his small hand into hers.
They leave the house barefoot.
The summer night is thick and humid; cicadas scream in the trees.
Tanaka's porch light is off, but the front door stands ajar like a hungry mouth.
Inside, the living room is lit only by the blue flicker of a huge television paused on yesterday's recording: Sarada on all fours, mouth open in a silent scream while Tanaka rails her from behind.
The sound is muted, but the image alone makes her knees buckle.
Tanaka sits sprawled on the couch in nothing but loose sweatpants, phone in one hand, remote in the other.
His eyes flick to Shin-chan, who hides half-behind his mother's leg.
"Cute," Tanaka says. "Bring him here."
Sarada's voice cracks. "You promised you'd delete everything if—"
"I promised I wouldn't send anything tonight," he interrupts, smiling. "Different thing. Come."
He pats the couch cushion beside him.
Sarada walks forward like a woman on death row, pulling Shin-chan with her.
When they sit, Tanaka leans over and kisses her, hard, possessive, tongue forcing its way in while his hand slides straight between her legs.
She is bare under the thin sundress as ordered; his fingers find her instantly wet.
"Look at that," he murmurs against her lips. "Already soaked for me. Good mommy."
Shin-chan stares, confused and frightened.
Tanaka turns to the boy.
"Your mom's been very bad, Shin-chan. She needs punishment. You're going to help me punish her, okay?"
Shin-chan shakes his head, tears starting.
Tanaka's hand shoots out, gripping the child's jaw.
"Listen carefully. You do exactly what I say, or tomorrow every kid in your school watches your mommy fuck your little brother. Understand?"
Shin-chan whimpers and nods.
Tanaka stands, pulling Sarada up by the hair.
"Living room first," he announces. "Strip."
She peels the sundress over her head.
The bruises on her hips and breasts are yellow-purple now.
Tanaka whistles appreciatively, then pushes her to her knees in front of the television.
The frozen frame behind her shows her own face twisted in unwanted orgasm.
"Hands and knees. Shin-chan, sit on the floor and watch."
Sarada obeys.
Tanaka drops his sweatpants.
His cock is already hard.
He rubs the head across her lips until she opens, then feeds himself down her throat in one slow push.
She gags; saliva spills over her chin.
"Eyes on your son," he orders.
She looks up through tears.
Shin-chan sits frozen, clutching his pajama pants, staring at his mother's stuffed mouth.
Tanaka fucks her face steadily, hips rolling, hands tangled in her hair.
Minutes stretch.
When her jaw aches and her mascara runs in black rivers, he pulls out, pulls out and slaps her cheek with his wet cock.
"Tell him thank you for letting you breathe."
Sarada's voice is hoarse. "Th-thank you, Mr. Tanaka…"
He laughs, hauls her up, and bends her over the arm of the couch so her face is inches from Shin-chan's.
"Tell your boy what a filthy cock-sleeve his mother is."
The words come out broken. "Mommy… is a filthy cock-sleeve…"
Tanaka slams into her from behind without warning.
She screams into the cushion.
He sets a punishing pace, hips crashing against her bruised ass, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet house.
Every thrust pushes her face closer to Shin-chan's until her tears drip onto his pajama top.
"Look at him while I breed you," Tanaka grunts.
She does.
Shin-chan is crying silently now, but his small hand has crept to the front of his pants—he doesn't understand why it feels good to touch himself while watching.
Tanaka notices and laughs breathlessly.
"Kid's a natural chip off the old block."
He pulls out suddenly, cock glistening, and yanks Sarada upright by the hair again.
"Stairs. Move."
They climb.
Halfway up, Tanaka stops her on all fours on the steps.
The carpet burns her knees.
He enters her again from behind, one foot on a higher stair for leverage, pounding so hard her whole body jolts upward with every thrust.
Shin-chan is made to crawl behind them, watching his mother's breasts swing like pendulums, her face contorted.
At the landing Tanaka spins her around, sits on the top stair, and pulls her to straddle him reverse-cowgirl facing Shin-chan three steps below.
"Ride," he orders.
She sinks down, impaling herself, and begins moving.
Her thighs tremble; sweat drips between her breasts.
Tanaka reaches around and spreads her cheeks so Shin-chan has a perfect view of his mother's pussy swallowing the man's cock over and over.
"Tell him how it feels."
"It… it feels… so deep…" she sobs, hips rolling helplessly.
Shin-chan's hand is fully inside his pants now, stroking in innocent, frantic rhythm.
Tanaka's fingers find her clit and rub mercilessly.
Sarada's orgasm hits like a seizure; she squirts messily down Tanaka's shaft and onto the carpeted stairs, a broken wail tearing from her throat.
Tanaka lifts her off, stands, and drags her the last few steps into the master bedroom—her and her husband's bed.
He throws her face-down across the mattress, ass in the air.
Shin-chan is made to kneel on the bed beside her head.
Tanaka enters her again, long, brutal strokes.
The headboard slams the wall in steady rhythm.
"Shin-chan," he pants, "put it in her mouth."
The boy hesitates.
Tanaka reaches over and guides the small, stiff cock between Sarada's lips.
She sobs around her own son while Tanaka fucks her raw.
The dual violation is too much.
She comes again almost instantly, walls clamping, milking Tanaka.
He groans, pulls out, and paints thick stripes across her back and ass.
But he isn't finished.
"Bathroom," he says, voice rough. "Final act."
He marches them both down the hall.
The bathroom is large, all white tile and mirrors.
Tanaka turns the shower on scalding, steam filling the room fast.
He pushes Sarada to her knees on the hard floor.
Water pounds her back.
"Clean me with your mouth."
She takes him in, exhausted, dutiful, tasting herself and his cum.
Shin-chan stands in the corner, shivering despite the heat, tiny cock still half-hard.
Tanaka grows rigid again in her mouth.
When he's close he pulls out, spins Sarada around, and bends her over the sink so she faces the fogged mirror.
He re-enters her pussy in one thrust.
"Look at yourself," he growls.
She does.
Hair plastered to her face, mascara ruined, lips swollen, eyes empty.
Behind her, Tanaka's reflection grins like a demon.
Beside them, Shin-chan's small reflection watches, stroking again.
Tanaka's hand snakes around to her throat.
"Tell the mirror who owns this cunt now."
"You do…" she whispers to her own broken reflection.
"Louder."
"Mr. Tanaka owns Mommy's cunt!"
He slams into her harder, choking her just enough to make her vision spark.
"Tell your son."
She turns her head, water streaming down her face like tears.
"Mr. Tanaka owns Mommy's cunt, Shin-chan… forever…"
The confession sends Tanaka over.
He buries himself to the root and floods her a second time, grinding deep, making sure every drop stays inside.
When he finally pulls out, cum runs thick down her thighs, swirling pink with shower water into the drain.
He turns the water cold.
Sarada collapses to the tile, curling into a ball, shaking uncontrollably.
Tanaka dries himself with her husband's towel, then crouches beside Shin-chan.
"You did good, kid. Tomorrow night we do your little brother. And maybe both of you at once."
He dresses, pockets his phone (freshly filled with four new videos), and walks out whistling.
Sarada stays on the bathroom floor long after the water runs cold, holding her sobbing eldest son against her naked chest, whispering broken apologies lost under the hiss of the shower.
Outside, Tanaka sends one last message before bed:
Unknown:
See you tomorrow, family ♡
Bring condoms.
You won't be needing them.
[To Be Continued]