"Master."
Manami Katsura swayed her hips seductively as she walked toward Adrian.
The beautiful woman wore a long, backless black evening gown that exuded an air of exceptional elegance and nobility. With her hair pinned up and her makeup flawless, she looked every bit the high-society celebrity she aspired to be.
However, Adrian's next sentence immediately shattered the illusion of romance.
"Is it clean?"
Adrian didn't even look up from his chair. His voice was cold, clinical, and completely devoid of affection.
"W-Washed... yes, washed clean!"
Manami stumbled over her words. She had originally planned to strike up a conversation, exchange some pleasantries, perhaps even share a glass of wine to build the mood. She hadn't expected him to be so direct.
Although she had come here specifically because she was itching to be used, surely they could at least pretend to have a connection?
A week ago, he had forcefully penetrated her backdoor, leaving her unable to sit properly for days. But as soon as she recovered, that restless, cat-like ache in her heart returned. For the last two days, she had felt a hollow emptiness in her lower body that nothing else could fill.
So, she had spent over an hour carefully preparing herself at home, and another half-hour performing multiple enemas to ensure she was pristine before driving to the Busujima Dojo.
"Bend over. Let me see."
Adrian raised the bamboo pointer and gestured toward the large black suitcase sitting in the middle of the floor.
Manami didn't know what the box was for, nor did she care. Since it was his order, she didn't need to feign politeness anymore. After all, she had been used to the point of incontinence in front of him several times; she had no dignity left to lose.
The beautiful woman reached behind her neck and unzipped the gown. The black fabric pooled at her feet.
She was completely naked underneath.
Clearly, Manami knew exactly why she was here. She hadn't bothered with underwear or a bra.
She had originally hoped for something more intimate. After sharing such raw physical vulnerability, shouldn't there be some emotional bond?
However, in Adrian's eyes, the woman before him was nothing more than a high-quality stress relief tool—a wanton sow to be used when he had no other entertainment. As for feelings? Did a tool deserve feelings?
"Master..."
Manami stepped out of the dress. Swaying her ample hips, she approached the mysterious black case. With a submissive air, she lowered herself onto it.
Inside the box, Kotonoha froze.
Suddenly, a massive expanse of pale, fleshy buttocks pressed against the transparent lid, inches from her face.
Kotonoha dared not breathe. It took her a moment to realize that although the flesh was pressing down, the reinforced glass of the case protected her.
"Master!"
Manami sat on the edge of the suitcase, then bent her waist downward, sticking her buttocks high into the air in a presenting pose.
"Please inspect!"
"Inspect what?" Adrian asked teasingly, tapping the pointer against his palm.
"Inspect the slut's asshole," Manami said without a shred of shame. "The slut washed herself clean just for you."
"Very well. Spread them yourself."
At Adrian's command, Kotonoha—trapped inside the box—watched in horror as two hands reached down.
From her angle, the view was high-definition and unavoidable. She saw her mother use both hands to spread her own plump buttocks wide, revealing the puckered anus and the glistening, rose-red vulva beneath.
Manami had always taken excellent care of her body. Although she had given birth to a daughter, her private parts were still vibrant and aesthetically pleasing—not the pale pink of a young girl, but a mature, deep rose that possessed a unique, carnal charm.
Her grooming was impeccable. Unlike Kotonoha, who was natural, Manami clearly valued her assets. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a perfect, thick landing strip, obediently distributed on her mons pubis.
"Ah—um—"
Adrian didn't hesitate. He thrust the tip of the bamboo pointer directly into Manami's anus.
The beautiful woman let out a seductive moan as the wood, which had just been used to torment her daughter's nipples, slid into her.
After inserting it about two fingers' width to check the tightness, Adrian withdrew the pointer. It came out wet but clean.
"Master! I am waiting for your guidance!"
Feeling the foreign object leave her, Manami shook her hips impatiently, silently begging for something larger.
"Wait."
Adrian kicked the side of the suitcase.
Click.
Inside the box, Kotonoha heard a mechanical sound. Suddenly, a small circular hole, about the size of a coin, opened in the lid of the case—right in front of her face.
Before she could figure out what the hole was for, she saw the bamboo pointer descending.
It slid through the opening and was instantly shoved into her mouth.
Mmph!
Kotonoha's eyes went wide.
What is this? Am I... am I supposed to lick the prop he just pulled out of Mother's...?
An overwhelming sense of shame and indignation crashed over her. Watching her mother's wanton display from inside the box was already psychological torture, but being forced to taste her mother's fluids? It was utterly humiliating.
However, she was firmly restrained. Her limbs were locked, and her head was held in place. The red ball gag in her mouth had a hollow center, and the pointer had been threaded right through it. She couldn't scream. She couldn't look away.
The tip of the pointer poked against her tongue.
Fortunately, Adrian possessed the precision of a Sword Saint. He didn't stab her throat; he merely rested the wood there, forcing her to taste it.
Ugh—
Technically, after three enemas, Manami was physically clean. But the psychological filth was unbearable.
Kotonoha tried to push it out with her tongue, but her efforts were futile. To prevent the pointer from sliding deeper into her throat, she could only helplessly curl her tongue around it, effectively licking it clean.
Feeling the resistance, Adrian smirked. He released his grip on the pointer, leaving it sticking out of the box, anchored in Kotonoha's mouth like a bizarre lollipop.
"Turn around," he ordered Manami.
Manami, unaware of the drama unfolding beneath her, obediently spun around on her knees.
"Lie on top."
Adrian didn't explain further. He gestured for Manami to straddle the suitcase like a horse, facing him, with the length of the box between her legs.
She settled down, her wet nether regions pressing against the glass—directly above Kotonoha's terrified eyes.
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