"Mom!" Sakura exploded out of the closet, "that's enough!" her face flushed tomato-red with pure, unadulterated rage. Her body trembled, fists clenched so tight her black gloves creaked.
I would've liked to say I'd expected this. That I'd planned for it, somehow, with all the times I'd tried to bait her and get a reaction out of the hiding pinkette. That I had some clever contingency ready to deploy.
But truth be told? I was genuinely taken by surprise.
And I hated being taken by surprise. Especially not when I'm standing at full mast, covered in spit and lipstick, and the surprise in question involves a teenage girl announcement that the whole show was crashing down around me.
Mebuki, still on her knees, flinched violently at the crash. Her brain was clearly still swimming in a cocktail of endorphins and oxygen deprivation, and her body was still twitching from the orgasm that had soaked the floor beneath her. She blinked, her glassy eyes struggling to focus on the intruder. On her daughter.
"Sakura….?" She blinked again, her voice rasping from the abuse. "What—what are you doing here? How did you—?"
Sakura stood frozen for a moment, choking on her own anger, her words stuck somewhere between her throat and her clenched teeth. She looked like she'd just realized what she'd done—burst out, exposed herself—but didn't know how to move forward. Her fury was too strong to let her retreat, but she hadn't thought this far ahead.
And damn, even angry, she was easy on the eyes. Or perhaps because of that. The long pink hair framed a pretty face, revealing high cheekbones and a soft, kissable mouth currently twisted in a snarl. Her outfit—that red sleeveless top and the short pink skirt with the bike shorts underneath—did wonders for her figure. She wasn't an Amazonian warrior, but she was soft in all the right places. Those thighs leading down to her knee-high boots were thick, shapely, and definitely grabbed my attention, even amidst the chaos.
My dick, marked by her mother, made a little jump.
"How could you?" Sakura finally hissed, the words grinding out through clenched teeth.
That was all she got out.
"Sakura, no, this isn't—" Mebuki said immediately, her tone shifting into damage-control mode. She tried to stand, but her legs were weak
Between the squirting and the awkward kneeling position, her muscles had turned to jelly. And the fact that she was still obediently keeping her hands locked behind her back wasn't helping. She wobbled, nearly face-planting into my crotch, before I caught her elbow and steadied her. That was the permission she needed to unlock her and use her arms. She used my knee for leverage to hoist herself up, her other hand flying to cover her modest breasts, suddenly hit with a wave of modesty.
Apparently.
"This is—it's not—you don't understand— It's not what it looks like." Mebuki stammered, falling back on the Cheater's Handbook, Chapter One. She took a shaky step toward her daughter, casting me a worried, frantic glance. "You're misunderstanding the situation, sweetheart. We were just—"
"What is it supposed to be then?!" Sakura shouted, her voice cracking with fury. "I heard you! I heard everything! You were talking about marrying me off! How could you do this? How could you—"
I blinked. Mebuki blinked.
That...
I wanted to laugh. I really did. If I weren't so thoroughly dejected by having my party ruined just when I'd been about to focus and properly fuck the mother, I would've been rolling.
But wasn't that something? Wasn't that Sakura Haruno for you, with all her gloriously misplaced priorities?
She didn't crash out when her mother started acting slutty. Not when Mebuki cheated. Not when her mom insulted and humiliated her father, degraded her family, got her ass spanked raw and cried for it to stop, or got ruined and face-fucked within an inch of her life.
No, no. Sakura Haruno was something else.
The line in the sand, the absolute breaking point, came at the suggestion she may get married off.
And I'd bet money it wasn't even about the marriage itself. It was about the possibility of not being able to marry her precious Sasuke-kun.
Isn't she just something?
Misplaced priorities barely began to cover it. The girl was witnessing a psychological breakdown and a masterclass in infidelity, and she was worried about her hypothetical wedding registry.
Mebuki frowned slightly, her expression tightening. "Sakura, lower your voice," she hissed, the 'Mom Switch' flipping on despite the fact that she was stark naked and covered in my fluids. She rushed forward, grabbing Sakura by the arm. She turned back to me with an apologetic smile that looked more like a grimace, given her ruined makeup. "I'm so sorry you have to see this, Eishin-sama. My daughter is rather... spirited. If you'll excuse us for just a moment, I need to have a word with her."
And of course, the mother was more worried about her high-value lover getting put off by this than about what her daughter just witnessed. Talk about misplaced priorities. Mother and daughter had so much in common.
I opted to stay silent for now; my instincts were telling me to sit this one out.
"Come with me." Mebuki tried to pull Sakura toward the bathroom, her grip tight. "We are going to have a talk about boundaries, young lady."
But Sakura wasn't having it. She was way stronger than her weak, drained and naked mom—genin or not, she had actual muscle tone—and she yanked her arm back with ease, swatting her mother's hand away like it was a fly.
"I don't want to talk in there!" she snapped, her voice rising again. "I want to know why you think you have the right to marry me off to some—some stranger when I've already told you a thousand times I'm going to marry Sasuke-kun! And why you're doing—this!—and disrespecting Dad and—"
"No!" Sakura yelled. "I'm not going anywhere! You were talking about my future! About marrying me off after—after all the disgraceful and vulgar and —ugh— after all you did and said. You can do that! You have no right! You can't!"
Mebuki's face hardened. Being called out stung her more than the slap I'd given her earlier.
"How long have you been in there, huh?" Mebuki demanded, her voice shrill, trying to regain the high ground by attacking the method rather than addressing the content. "Oh, is this what they teach you at the Academy? To spy on your own mother? To hide in closets and watch things you have no business seeing?"
Sakura flinched, the accusation hitting a nerve. She bristled, her face going even redder. "I had to! Sensei told me to!" she shot back defensively, gesturing in my direction, barely sparing me a glance.
Mebuki froze for a moment, her brows knitting as her head turned around to stare at me.
I didn't hesitate. I immediately activated Devil's Whisper.
"She caught us last time," I said unapologetically. I stood up, stepping over the wet pillow. My cock was still fully erect, swaying slightly as I moved, but I didn't bother covering up. "She needed proof I wasn't coercing you or forcing you into anything. She was worried about you."
Maybe using Devil's Whisper here was overkill. Maybe it was too much.
But I didn't think so.
After all, I'd made Mebuki say some awful shit about her husband, her family, and herself. I'd made her do degrading things. I'd awakened her masochistic side. Granted, she may have still done them without much prompting, but I'd done all of it knowing her daughter was watching.
It would be pretty fucking awful if she thought I'd set her up just for kicks; her vanity would turn to pure venom. Women like Mebuki hated nothing more than being made a fool of. But frame it as proof of her daughter's care? That, her ego could handle.
The suggestion took root in her mind. I watched her expression shift. Suspicious melting into confusion, then understanding, then acceptance, and ending up in something almost grateful.
"I shouldn't have bothered," Sakura said, with an angry sad smile, "You clearly don't care about anyone. You don't care about Dad, our family, or even me—"
"That's enough," Mebuki cut her off, raising her voice. "I don't care? I don't care? Young lady, do you have any idea what I've sacrificed for this family? Do not speak about things you don't understand! Everything I do—everything—is for this family! For you!"
"Going behind Dad's back is for me?!"
"Your father…." Mebuki sighed, her expression softening into an almost pitying one. "Your father is a kind man, Sakura. I love him. But he's... limited. I don't want to settle the way I had. I don't want you to live in a life where you constantly worry about what to eat or what to wear. I don't want you to end up like me, doing what I have to do to secure a future for you. I want you to have better prospects than I did. I want you to have a comfortable life."
I was genuinely amazed. There was no better manipulator than a delusional cheater.
Sakura's anger flared even hotter, but now, with her mom's 'heartfelt' confession, it lost its target; its direction. She smiled a bitter smile. "I don't…. I don't care about any of— I don't care about your prospects. I don't care what you do," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "I don't care about your excuses or your justifications or your business. But you have no right to marry me off to anyone. I have a team! I have a dream! And I finally have a Sensei who sees my potential! I'm not going to let you ruin everything I've worked for."
"A dream." Mebuki repeated the word slowly, incredulously. "A dream?"
The mother looked at her daughter with that maddening, condescending pity only a mother can weaponize. "Oh, sweetheart... do you think I don't know you? I'm your mother. I know you better than you know yourself. A mother knows her daughter best. And this dream of yours. You're only doing this kunoichi nonsense because you think it'll impress that Uchiha boy you've been obsessed with since you were six years old."
"Do not speak of….." Sakura reeled back a step; she gritted her teeth. "I love him."
Mebuki looked genuinely saddened, shaking her head. "But that is no way to attract a boy, Sakura. Fighting, losing all grace and class; getting all dirty and sweaty…. this isn't the way to win him. That's not attractive. That's not what draws a boy's eye. Holding kunai and swords, war and fighting, that's the role of a man."
"Oh, really?" Sakura scoffed, her smile turning cruel. "Then what is the role of a woman, Mother?" She sneered, her eyes raking over Mebuki's naked, stained form. "Is it to degrade herself as you did? To kneel and choke and beg?" Her lip curled. "Like a free prostitute?"
"Sakura." My voice cut through the air, low and dangerous. It wasn't the voice of the lover, or the perv. It was the Jounin. "Watch your tongue."
I decided to intervene in the end. They clearly need someone to mediate else this won't end.
That wiped the smirk right off Sakura's face. She spun toward me, seemingly remembering all at once that I was standing right there.
Her eyes landed on my face, then, despite her best efforts, began to drift downward. She tried to stop them. She really did. But the sheer size and presence of my erection—still glistening with her mother's saliva—was magnetic. Her gaze glued itself to my crotch for a heartbeat too long, her pupils dilating.
She realized what she was doing and jerked her head up, her face burning so hot I thought she might pass out.
"I—I didn't mean—I was just—" She stammered, shifting her weight, trying to make herself smaller. Not knowing if she should apologize for looking or defend herself for what she said, "Sensei, she—she started it! She's trying to—"
"No matter what she said." I shook my head. "That's not how you talk to your mother." I let the words hang for a moment, then added, "Do you remember your lesson, Sakura?" I asked softly, letting the subtext hang heavy in the air. The memory of the slap in the alleyway was fresh enough to make her flinch. "Apologize. Right now."
"But—" She began, looking both betrayed and confused.
"No 'buts'," I ordered, my voice hardening. "Apologize."
Sakura hesitated, her mouth opening and closing, her eyes darting between her mother and me. Her fingers twitched at her sides, and for a second, I thought the brat might actually rebel. But the good girl I'd trained her to be won out. She dropped her head, her long pink hair falling forward to curtain her face.
"I'm… I'm sorry, Mom," she mumbled, the words dragged out reluctantly.
Watching Sakura swallow her pride and obey made something in me click into place. It wasn't about respect; it was about conditioning. That little triangle—me above, Mebuki beneath me, Sakura beneath her—wasn't "family order," it was a control structure. Mebuki was the handle: I had her wrapped around my finger, so when I pressed, she became the weight that kept Sakura down, the "reasonable adult" backing my authority while I shaped the girl's reactions into habits. Sakura, stubborn, insecure, desperate for approval, was the real prize and this hierarchy meant she couldn't fight me without first going through her mom, and she won't be able to do that in my watch since I will be backing her mom most of the time.
Also, without openly "disrespecting" her mother, Sakura couldn't assert herself without feeling like the villain. Hence, if she ever wanted to get out of the hierarchy, she needed to fight herself and her need to be good, then her mom, subtly backed by me, then me, her teacher.
I hadn't expected the situation to hand me that advantage on a platter, but I was more than happy to take it and tighten the leash while she still thought it was her choice to kneel.
I thought that was good enough. She didn't explode the way she would have before. My conditioning had worked well if she was willing to listen even now, even in a situation this fucked up.
With this, the situation should defuse. And if luck was with me, I could hopefully resume fucking Mebuki.
I exhaled slowly, my dangerously hard cock twitching in relief. If luck was on my side, this little tempest would blow over, Sakura would scurry off to nurse her bruised ego, and I could get back to pounding her mother into the mattress. Heavens knows I needed it. My dick was painfully hard, and I didn't know where else I'd find someone to take care of it. Maybe Shiho, but I didn't want to burden her any more than I had. She was pregnant, and she needed breaks from time to time.
But Mebuki, apparently, wasn't ready to let the moment pass. She seized the opportunity like a politician spotting a microphone.
She took my intervention as a personal victory—a sign that the handsome, powerful Jounin had sided with her against her own child. You could see the smugness bloom on her face, overriding the ruin of her makeup and the indignity of her nakedness.
"There now," she said, her tone shifting into something syrupy and victorious. She placed a hand on Sakura's bowed head, her touch almost patronizing. "You see, sweetheart? Everything I have always done is for your future. I know you think you love that Uchiha boy, but you have to understand..." She patted Sakura's head, and I watched the pinkette's shoulders start to tremble. "The Uchiha are a proud clan. They marry within the clan, or at least to someone of status. They'll never look at you, Sakura. I'm trying to protect you from that heartbreak. I'm trying to give you a real chance at happiness."
I felt a strange mix of amazement and annoyance. Amazed that the mother had the audacity to twist this moment into a psychological knife aimed straight at her daughter's insecurities. Annoyed because that was my right. She was my student. It was my job to cultivate her, to shape her, to break her down and build her back up.
Not Mebuki's.
"Be that as it may," I cut in, my voice smooth but firm enough to stop Mebuki mid-sentence. "Sakura is free to pursue whoever she wants."
Time to show the daughter that her mom was the one beneath me; if she hadn't already figured that one out.
Mebuki's hand froze on Sakura's head. Her victory smile faltered, replaced by a confused frown.
Sakura's head snapped up. Her wide green eyes locked onto mine, shimmering with something dangerously close to hope.
"Eishin-sama," Mebuki started, her tone slipping back into that grating, wheedling register. "With all due respect, I am her mother. I know what's best for her. A girl like her needs guidance, needs to be told what is—"
I shook my head, stepping closer. "Yes, you're her mother. You can advise her. You can warn her. You can share your... unique wisdom. But in the end? Sakura is her own person. She has the right to make her own choices, make her own mistakes, and forge her own path."
I looked directly at Sakura, ignoring the naked woman between us, and gave her my most charming, reassuring smile. "I have confidence in her. She's smarter than you give her credit for, Mebuki. She'll make the right choice for her future when the time comes."
Sakura stared at me like I'd just invented fire. Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitched, and for a moment, the anger and humiliation vanished, replaced by pure adoration.
I mused inwardly, feeling a swell of pride at my own eloquence. Damn, I was good. Inspirational, even.
Though the visual irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, delivering a heartfelt speech about autonomy and growth while standing stark naked, my erection bobbing in the air, next to a woman covered in sweat, bodily fluids, and ruined makeup.
If this wasn't art, I didn't know what was.
Mebuki snorted—a sharp, dismissive sound that shattered the moment. Apparently, the inspiration was lost on her. "Oh, Eishin-sama, you're so sweet," she laughed—a fake, trilling sound that grated on my nerves. She swatted the air dismissively. "But you don't have children of your own, do you? You don't understand how troublesome they can be. Parenting is... well, it's complicated. Perhaps it's best to leave these matters to those of us who—"
I slapped her ass.
Hard.
The crack echoed through the room like a whip.
Mebuki yelped, stumbling forward, her hand flying back to clutch her abused cheek. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in shock.
Sakura froze, her face going pale, then red, then pale again. But she didn't step in to defend her mother. Good.
"Don't look down on her—she is my student," I growled, looming over Mebuki. "And don't presume to lecture me on the parenting."
I turned back to Sakura, my expression softening instantly into a warm grin. "She'll surprise you, Mebuki. I guarantee it. Just like she's surprised me."
Sakura stared at me for a long moment, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face—one of the cutest, most genuine smiles I'd ever seen. She pressed her hand over her heart, like she was trying to hold onto the feeling.
A long silence stretched between us as we looked at each other.
Mebuki rubbed her ass with a pout, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her thighs were still slick, her body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks of her climax. But oddly enough, she dropped the subject. She glanced between her daughter and me, her eyes narrowed, calculating, but she kept her mouth shut.
Eventually, Sakura's gaze slipped.
Gravity is a bitch, and so are hormones. Her eyes dropped from my face, traveled down my chest... and landed squarely on my still-erect, still exposed cock.
Her face went from pink to absolute crimson in a heartbeat.
"I—I—um—" She started stammering, taking a shaky step back. "I—I should—I mean, I really need to—go. Now. Right now." She waved her hands frantically in front of her, trying to block the view without actually looking away. "I'll just—let you two—continue—whatever—this—is—"
"Not so fast, young lady."
Mebuki's hand shot out, grabbing Sakura's wrist with surprising strength. The girl stopped in her tracks, looking back at her mother in alarm.
Mebuki ignored her, her green eyes narrowing as she looked up at me. A slow, calculating smile spread across her ruined face—the type of smile a shark gives before it takes a bite.
"What is this I keep hearing about 'teacher' and 'student', mmh?" she purred, her voice dripping with sudden, sickening sweetness. "My daughter has never mentioned having a sensei before. Why wasn't I informed?"
As I noted the scheming smile spreading across the middle-aged woman's face, I felt a distinct pang of regret.
I definitely hadn't slapped her ass hard enough.
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