Here again... the collarbone. He always lingers here for so long, like he's appreciating some kind of artwork. Self-absorbed jerk. He probably thinks this is super stylish. In the doujinshi I draw, the male leads just pin them down and kiss them right away. Way too inefficient.
Seiji Fujiwara's palm slid slowly down her spine, finally settling on her slender waist, using an undeniable force to pull her even tighter against himself.
Always likes using this position to demonstrate his control. So... typical!
Finally, his hand moved downward, through the thin fabric of her nightgown, gently covering Eriri's long, slender thigh.
Of course it's the legs... This guy is absolutely a hopeless leg fetishist. He spends the most time here every single time. So predictable.
Eriri silently criticized him in her mind, treating all of this as "experience material."
Might as well observe the way male muscles exert force and breathing frequency during foreplay... Mm, his heartbeat is also about 15% faster than normal...
Just when Eriri thought she'd completely figured everything out and was even starting to feel a bit bored, Seiji Fujiwara—as if hearing her inner voice—curved his lips into an even deeper smile.
His movements changed abruptly.
No longer those broad, probing touches, but becoming extremely targeted, like an experienced acupuncturist, each strike hitting her vital points!
Wh... what?!
Her brain went blank, her calm analytical posture vanishing completely.
Before she could react, the fingers of his other hand had already precisely found that hollow behind her ear, kneading it with his fingertips—neither too light nor too heavy.
At the same time, his lips moved to her ear, warm breath pouring directly into her ear canal.
"Eriri," his voice is low and magnetic, "your body is much more honest than your mouth."
Damn it... why... this place...
Eriri miserably discovered that her proud theoretical knowledge was completely useless before his overwhelming practical experience!
He precisely located every weak point on her body, then used the most torturous methods to repeatedly stimulate them!
Hold on! Eriri Sawamura! Absolutely cannot surrender!
She bit her lip hard, forcibly swallowing back a whimper about to escape, frantically warning herself.
This bastard... is definitely an expert! He's doing this on purpose! Deliberately using this ambiguous yet oppressive method to watch me lose composure! I won't let you succeed! Absolutely cannot show weakness! Showing weakness means losing!
However, mental defenses also had their limits.
Seiji Fujiwara was like a supremely skilled chess player, precisely controlling every move of the game.
His offensive wasn't a violent storm, but rather a continuous psychological oppression.
Each time, just as she was about to construct new mental defenses, he easily shattered them with a flippant remark or an ambiguous action. Each time, just as she was about to go numb and resign herself, he deliberately pulled back, giving her false breathing room.
Eriri's will gradually disintegrated under this repeated tug-of-war and torment.
Once again, when she felt her spirit was about to snap, humiliating tears uncontrollably welling in her eyes, Seiji Fujiwara maliciously stopped all movement again.
He leaned close to her ear, whispering in that teasing voice: "How about it? 'Eri Kashiwagi' sensei, can you draw this feeling now? That expression of having your pride crushed, your will desperately struggling at the edge of submission—that's top-tier material."
Those words completely detonated the volcano that had long been suppressed to its limit in Eriri's heart!
She realized she absolutely couldn't take it anymore!
Humiliation, rage, and that frustration of being toyed with yet powerless to resist—all of it devoured her in an instant.
"Ah—!!!"
Eriri let out a scream of extreme shame and fury, her eyes snapping open as she flipped over and sat up.
In Seiji Fujiwara's astonished expression, she turned the tables and sat on top of him!
Her golden hair scattered messily from the violent movement, several strands clinging to her flushed, sweat-dampened cheeks, making her look both disheveled and self-destructively alluring.
Eriri glared fiercely at the man beneath her, tears of humiliation in her eyes, roaring:
"You've been teasing me this whole time just hoping I'd beg you myself, right?! Well, you got your wish, you bastard!!!"
Eriri straddled him, golden hair messily cascading over her shoulders, that exquisitely doll-like face covered with the flush of shame and fury and crystalline tear tracks. Her body trembled violently from anger and agitation, those azure eyes burning with flames mixed with humiliation, unwillingness, and madness.
Like a cornered beast, in an almost self-destructive posture, she lunged fiercely, crashing hard against his lips.
This wasn't a kiss—it was a chaotic, artless declaration of war.
She poured all the pressure she'd endured these past months, the pain of unable to achieve what she sought in her creative work, and the restlessness of being repeatedly teased by him with no release—all of it—into this clumsy collision.
A flash of surprise crossed Seiji Fujiwara's face.
He didn't expect this golden retriever, who had always been passively enduring, would actually explode with such an astonishing counterattack.
Haha, how fascinating.
Seiji Fujiwara immediately laughed inwardly.
So this was what happened when a tsundere was pushed to her limit—she used this "proactive attack" to disguise her complete defeat?
Seiji Fujiwara let Eriri lead this chaotic "war," feeling her clumsy yet hate-filled movements. He could even feel that, driven by rage, Eriri's body was closer and more forceful than ever before, as if wanting to devour him with this method.
But this outwardly fierce yet inwardly weak aggression brought him even more enjoyment.
Eriri's hands fumbled desperately at his clothes, yanking his shirt open with such force that buttons scattered across the sofa bed. Her movements were clumsy, artless, driven purely by rage and pent-up frustration.
"You... you bastard..." she panted between kisses, tears still streaming down her face. "I hate you... I hate you so much..."
But even as the words left her mouth, her hands continued their desperate work, pulling at his belt, his pants, anything in her way.
Seiji caught her wrists, stilling her frantic movements. "Slow down."
"No!" Eriri wrenched her hands free, eyes wild. "I won't let you control this too! I'm doing this my way!"
With shaking hands, she managed to free him from his remaining clothes. When she saw him fully bare beneath her, her eyes widened slightly, a flush of embarrassment mixing with the anger on her tear-stained face.
This is... really happening...
For a moment, her fury wavered, replaced by uncertainty. But then she remembered—all those nights of teasing, all those humiliating lessons, watching him with Utaha while she burned with need—
The anger surged back.
Her own nightgown was already bunched up around her waist from their struggle. She didn't bother removing it properly, just yanked her panties aside with trembling fingers.
"Eriri, wait—" Seiji started, but she was already positioning herself over him.
"Shut up! I'm done waiting!"
She lowered herself onto him in one desperate motion.
The pain was immediate and sharp. Eriri's eyes flew wide, a choked cry escaping her throat as she felt herself stretching, tearing, accommodating something far too large.
"Ah—! It hurts..."
Her body instinctively tried to pull away, but Seiji's hands caught her hips, holding her steady.
"Breathe," he commanded, his voice strained. "You're too tense. Relax."
"How can I relax?!" Tears streamed freely now, from pain and humiliation. "It hurts, you bastard, it—"
But even as she spoke, her body was slowly adjusting. The burning pain began to shift, transforming into something else—a fullness, a pressure that made her breath hitch.
Seiji's thumbs rubbed small circles on her hip bones, his own breathing labored. "Move when you're ready."
"Don't... tell me what to do..." But her hips were already shifting experimentally, seeking relief from the overwhelming sensation.
The movement sent sparks through her entire body. Eriri gasped, hands flying to his chest for balance.
What... what is this feeling?
She moved again, lifting herself slightly before sinking back down. The friction made her moan despite herself.
"There..." Seiji's voice was rough. "That's it."
Driven by instinct rather than technique, Eriri began to move. Her rhythm was erratic, desperate, chasing something she couldn't name. Each movement sent waves of sensation through her—pleasure mixed with residual pain, fullness, heat, overwhelming intensity.
"Nnh... ah..." The sounds escaped her unbidden, her pride forgotten as her body took over.
Seiji's hands guided her hips, helping her find a steadier rhythm. His own hips began meeting her movements, driving deeper, and Eriri cried out.
"Too deep! Wait—ahh!"
But she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Her body moved frantically, chasing the building pressure in her core.
"Eriri," Seiji growled, his control fraying. "You're squeezing me so tight..."
One of his hands slid between their bodies, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. The moment he touched her there, Eriri's back arched, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.
"No! Don't touch—ahh! If you touch there, I'll—"
Her movements became even more frantic, riding him with abandon, all thoughts of controlling the situation lost to pure sensation.
The pressure built and built, coiling tighter in her belly until—
"Seiji! I'm—something's—!"
Her first orgasm crashed over her with devastating force. Eriri screamed, her whole body convulsing, walls clenching rhythmically around him as pleasure whited out her vision.
Through the haze, she felt Seiji's grip tighten painfully on her hips. With a final deep thrust, he buried himself completely inside her, groaning as he found his own release. She felt the warmth flooding her, pulse after pulse, marking her irrevocably.
The fight drained out of her all at once. Eriri collapsed forward onto his chest, trembling and gasping, completely spent.
An unknown amount of time passed before the studio returned to silence, only the sound of two people's eased breathing remaining.
Eriri lay powerlessly on Seiji Fujiwara's chest, all her strength seemingly drained.
However, to her surprise, after that extreme exhaustion, an unprecedented sense of refreshing clarity slowly rose from her limbs and bones, even clearing the fog in her brain that had become muddled from long-term all-nighters and mental pressure.
She even felt her current state was better than ever before.
Those storyboards for her new work that had troubled her for so long—
The complex expression of the heroine after experiencing a humiliating physical examination, that mixture of shame and relief—several vague yet clear inspirations suddenly flashed through her mind.
While I can...
Eriri's heart leapt with joy as she struggled to get up. While I'm in this state, I need to draw those storyboards...
However, just as she propped herself halfway up, a strong, powerful arm pushed her back down.
"Where do you think you're going?" Seiji Fujiwara's voice, tinged with lazy amusement, sounded by her ear.
"I... I'm going to draw." Eriri instinctively answered, her voice still somewhat hoarse.
"Draw?" Seiji Fujiwara chuckled lightly, the laugh particularly clear in the silent studio. "Are you saying you're already finished?"
"Eh?" Eriri lifted her head in shock, meeting Seiji Fujiwara's eyes.
Those eyes showed no trace of fatigue—instead, they burned with flames even more vigorous than before.
"You... what do you mean?" An ominous premonition rose in her heart.
"My meaning is simple." Seiji Fujiwara's other hand began wandering over her smooth back. "Eriri, you seem to have some misunderstanding about me. You couldn't possibly think I'd be satisfied with just once, could you?"
He paused, appreciating her gradually stiffening expression, leisurely adding:
"You also 'observed' that night's 'battle' between Utaha and me, didn't you? You should be very clear that my stamina isn't limited to just this."
BOOM—!!!
The memories of that night flooded into Eriri's mind like a tidal wave!
She remembered now! That night, he and Utaha-senpai went at it from the living room to the bedroom for half the entire night!
The way Utaha-senpai looked at the end, completely wrung dry, unable to move even a single finger—she remembered it crystal clear!
And herself... she just proactively did it once and already felt like she was falling apart!
"No... don't—!!!"
Eriri let out a shrill wail, like a frightened rabbit, rolling off him and scrambling toward the door on all fours!
However, before she could crawl two steps, a large hand grabbed her waist.
"Help! Let go of me! I don't want it anymore! I won't pay rent anymore!!" She screamed in despair as she was easily dragged back.
The second "battle" forcibly began amidst her wails and resistance.
Seiji flipped her over onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. The control she'd briefly held was completely stripped away.
"No! Wait—I just—we just—"
But he was already positioning himself between her legs, spreading them wide. Eriri tried to close them, but his body blocked her, keeping her open and exposed.
"Please... I'm still sore... it hurts..." Her voice cracked, genuine fear creeping in.
Seiji leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "You wanted this, remember? You begged for it."
"That's not—I didn't mean—"
He pushed inside in one smooth thrust, and Eriri's protest dissolved into a choked cry. Her body was still sensitive, oversensitive from before, and the intrusion felt overwhelming.
"Ahh! Too much! Pull out—!"
But Seiji had no intention of going easy on her. This time, he set the pace—deep, powerful thrusts that made the sofa bed creak beneath them.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
"No... no..." Eriri whimpered, but her body betrayed her. Despite the overwhelming sensation, despite her protests, she was already wet, already responding.
His free hand slid up her nightgown, roughly palming her breast, pinching the nipple until she gasped. The mixture of pleasure and pain made her head spin.
"Look at you," Seiji growled, his hips driving harder. "Already squeezing me so tight. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mouth won't admit it."
Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!
"Nnh... stop... talking..." But she couldn't form a coherent response, not when each thrust was hitting so deep, not when her body was already climbing toward another peak.
Seiji released her wrists, but only to grab her hips, angling them up. The new position made him drive impossibly deeper, and Eriri screamed.
"There it is," he said with satisfaction, hitting that spot again and again. "Can you feel that, Eriri? This is what you were running from."
"I can't—too deep—ahh!"
Her legs wrapped around his waist involuntarily, heels digging into his back as if to pull him closer even as she begged him to stop.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
The wet sounds were obscene, mixing with her desperate cries. Sweat dampened her skin, her golden hair plastered to her face and neck.
"Come for me," Seiji commanded, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing firm circles. "Come on my cock like a good girl."
"Don't—don't call me—ahh!"
The orgasm tore through her without warning, even more intense than the first. Eriri's back arched violently, her walls clamping down on him as pleasure ripped through every nerve.
Seiji groaned, his rhythm faltering. "Fuck... you're milking me..."
With several more brutal thrusts, he buried himself deep and came, flooding her again with warmth. Eriri could only whimper, body twitching with aftershocks, completely overwhelmed.
Half an hour later.
The second battle ended, and Eriri could no longer speak at all.
The girl's eyes were unfocused, her expression seductive, even a trace of crystalline saliva hanging at the corner of her mouth.
She felt her bones had turned to cotton, her last bit of strength exhausted.
It's over, right... this time it must be over...
Her brain could no longer think, only this single thought remaining.
However, that demon merely caught his breath briefly before pressing down on her again.
"After resting for ten minutes, that should be enough, right, Eriri?"
"No... I can't..."
Fear, like vines, wrapped around her heart once more.
She began to truly feel afraid, her voice carrying a sobbing tone as she started begging for mercy. "Seiji... please... I really can't anymore... spare me..."
Seiji Fujiwara looked at her tear-streaked, pleading appearance, but his eyes held no trace of pity—instead, a glimmer of excitement flashed through them.
This begging and pleading only stimulated the beast in a man.
He lowered his head, kissing away the tears at the corner of the girl's eyes, but his voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. "No, you can. I know you, this golden retriever, haven't reached your true limit yet."
The third battle unfolded mercilessly.
"Turn over," Seiji commanded. "On your hands and knees."
"I can't... I can't move..." Eriri whimpered, her limbs feeling like lead.
Seiji didn't wait for her to comply. He simply grabbed her hips and flipped her over himself, positioning her on all fours. Eriri's arms immediately gave out, her upper body collapsing onto the mattress, leaving only her hips raised.
"Perfect," Seiji murmured, running a possessive hand over the curve of her ass.
Eriri tried to crawl away, but her body wouldn't respond. She could only lie there, trembling, as she felt him position himself behind her.
"No more... please... I'll really break..." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Let's find out."
He thrust inside from behind, and the angle was completely different—deeper, more intense. Eriri's eyes rolled back, a broken moan escaping her throat.
"Ahhh! No! Too deep! You're too—ngh!"
Seiji set a brutal pace immediately, no warm-up, no mercy. His hips slapped against her ass with each powerful thrust, the sound echoing through the studio.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
Eriri couldn't form words anymore, could only make incoherent sounds as he pounded into her. Her fingers clawed uselessly at the sheets, her body jerking forward with each impact.
"Look at you," Seiji growled, one hand fisting in her golden hair, pulling her head back. "Taking me so well now. Your body was made for this, wasn't it?"
"Nnngh... ahh... ahh..."
The hand in her hair pulled harder, arching her back, changing the angle even further. The new position made him hit that spot inside her with every single thrust, and Eriri felt her mind shattering.
"Come," he ordered, his other hand reaching around to roughly stimulate her clit. "Come for me again, Eriri."
She tried to resist, tried to hold back, but it was useless. Her body obeyed him even when her mind screamed no.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
The orgasm ripped through her like lightning. Eriri screamed, her whole body convulsing violently, arms completely giving out. She would have collapsed entirely if not for Seiji's grip on her hips, holding her in place as he continued to fuck her through it.
Extreme tingling numbness shot from her tailbone straight to the crown of her head, making her entire body—from skin to marrow—erupt in waves of trembling.
Her brain went completely blank, utterly losing control of her body.
Eriri felt like her soul was being knocked out of her body, then forcibly pulled back in.
With a final brutal thrust, Seiji buried himself to the hilt and came, his release flooding her for the third time.
When he finally pulled out, she collapsed completely, unable to even hold up her hips anymore.
...
When the aftershocks of the third battle subsided, she no longer even had the strength to beg for mercy.
But that man, that demon, still didn't seem satisfied.
"Wait... wait!"
Seeing the fourth battle about to begin, survival instinct made Eriri hastily give various verbal promises. "...Don't... don't continue... I'll agree to anything you want!"
"I'll never talk back to you again!"
"Whatever you say goes! Please! I'll really die!"
Seiji Fujiwara listened to her incoherent promises, merely smiling dismissively.
"Those things, I could already take."
His answer completely shattered her last bit of hope.
The fourth battle arrived as scheduled.
...
When everything was truly over, Eriri didn't even have the strength to move a finger.
She lay motionless on the sofa bed, eyes hollow as she stared at the ceiling, as if her soul had been extracted from her body.
Seiji Fujiwara still had energy to spare.
He stood up leisurely, pulled over a chair, and sat in front of her at his ease.
"It's finished, but there's still cleanup work afterward." He looked down at her from above, using a commanding tone that brooked no argument. "Stop playing dumb. Eri Kashiwagi sensei should know very well what to do."
Eriri's body trembled imperceptibly.
She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, pitifully trying to make one final plea with her gaze.
Seiji Fujiwara merely reached out his hand, gently patting her cheek, his voice cold and cruel.
"You were so arrogant just now when you turned the tables, weren't you?" Seiji Fujiwara lightly pinched her small face, teasing: "How are you softening up already?"
That arrogant swagger of turning the tables moments ago vanished without a trace.
Whimpering, like a puppy with its spine broken, Eriri slowly crawled over.
Her limbs barely supported her weight. She had to drag herself across the sofa bed, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on the sheets. The humiliation of it made fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
When she reached him, she knelt between his spread legs, swaying slightly from exhaustion. She could see the evidence of everything they'd done—him still half-hard, slick with her arousal and his own release.
"I... I don't know how..." she whispered, voice cracking.
"You draw it often enough in your doujinshi," Seiji said coldly. "Put that theoretical knowledge to practical use."
Eriri's hands shook as she reached out, wrapping her fingers around him tentatively. He was still warm, still pulsing slightly. The reality of touching him like this—after everything—made her stomach flip.
"Open your mouth."
She obeyed, lips parting, and Seiji guided her head forward. The moment he touched her tongue, Eriri tasted everything—the saltiness, the musk, the bitter evidence of their coupling. She gagged slightly.
"Relax your throat," Seiji instructed, hand firm on the back of her head. "You know this from your manga. Deep breath through your nose."
Eriri tried to follow the instructions, but theory and practice were worlds apart. When he pushed deeper, hitting the back of her throat, she choked, tears streaming.
"Shh... breathe. You can do this."
She hollowed her cheeks, trying to remember the scenes she'd drawn hundreds of times. Her tongue worked clumsily, tracing along the underside, and she felt him harden further in her mouth.
"That's better," Seiji murmured, his hips beginning to move slightly. "Use your hand on what won't fit."
Eriri wrapped her hand around the base, stroking in time with her mouth. The rhythm was awkward, uncoordinated, but Seiji seemed content to let her figure it out.
Saliva dripped down her chin. The wet sounds were obscene, mixing with her occasional gags when he thrust a bit too deep. Her jaw ached, her throat burned, but she didn't stop.
"Look at me," Seiji commanded.
Eriri's eyes, red-rimmed and watery, lifted to meet his. The sight must have pleased him because his hand tightened in her hair.
"That's it. Let me see those proud eyes while you service me."
The degradation of it—kneeling before him, mouth full, completely defeated—should have made her hate him more. But somewhere in the depths of her broken pride, something else stirred. Submission? Acceptance? She didn't know anymore.
Seiji's breathing grew heavier. "I'm close. You're going to swallow everything."
Eriri's eyes widened in panic, but before she could pull away, his hand held her firmly in place. With a low groan, he came, and she felt the hot spurts hitting the back of her throat.
"Swallow," he ordered.
She had no choice. The thick fluid slid down her throat, making her gag and cough, but she forced it down, again and again, until there was nothing left.
When he finally released her, Eriri collapsed back onto her heels, gasping for air. Her lips were swollen, her face a mess of tears and saliva.
"Good girl," Seiji said, almost tenderly, reaching down to wipe her chin with his thumb.
Those two words shouldn't have affected her. But after hours of torment, that small praise made something in Eriri's chest tighten painfully.
Late night.
The studio remained filled with a decadent, suggestive atmosphere.
Seiji Fujiwara leaned against the sofa, leisurely playing with his phone.
And before him, Eriri was fulfilling her final "duty" in an extremely humiliating posture.
The girl's body still trembled uncontrollably.
Her stamina had been completely drained in those four "battles" that could only be described as torture.
At this moment, she was relying entirely on her last bit of willpower to support herself.
The girl noticed Seiji Fujiwara's phone, and her mind uncontrollably flashed through countless dark, humiliating doujinshi plots she'd drawn before.
Photos... is he taking photos?
Or recording video?
This thought made her heart uneasy.
She knew all too well the power of such things.
Once he had this kind of leverage, she'd never escape from this demon's grasp for the rest of her life.
"Um..." Eriri used a weak voice to plead, "Seiji, could... could you please not take photos or videos?"
Hearing this, Seiji Fujiwara didn't even lift an eyelid, though he found it rather amusing inwardly.
Photos?
Videos?
Such low-level threatening methods were too tasteless.
Though... that did remind him.
This classic kinky project mustn't be missed.
Seiji Fujiwara chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, I won't use my phone to record."
Eriri's heart relaxed slightly.
But the next moment, she felt something was wrong.
Wait!
What did he mean he wouldn't use his phone?
"Phones are too unsafe, easy to leak. Another day, I'll use a professional camera to properly record our 'teaching process.'"
"!"
Eriri felt so aggrieved she almost cried out loud.
A camera doesn't work either!
She screamed frantically in her mind.
If you really record something, I'm truly finished for life! I'll really become your personal RBQ!
She was about to open her mouth, using her last bit of strength to protest, but Seiji Fujiwara—as if he had eyes on the back of his head—scolded without even lifting his head:
"Focus. Don't forget your main job."
As he spoke, he reached out his hand, pressing down on the back of her head with measured force.
That undeniable pressure instantly crushed all her thoughts of resistance.
Eriri could only whimper aggrievedly, close her eyes, and resignedly continue the humiliating "cleanup" work.
When everything finally ended, Eriri was so exhausted she couldn't move a single finger.
"Considering you were so 'hardworking' today, I'll give you a bit more 'instruction.'"
Seiji Fujiwara looked at her, slowly saying: "As punishment for your audacity to turn the tables earlier, I think it's necessary to give you further instruction."