The air in the room was thick with desire, the dim glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the gauzy veils that separated Fugaku from the intoxicating scene unfolding before him.
The sounds of wet, fervent kisses and soft, needy moans filled the space, a symphony of lust that made his heart pound and his body ache with a twisted mix of shame and arousal.
Mikoto, his wife, was a vision of raw, unbridled sensuality, her lips locked with Minato's in a fierce, primal clash of tongues. Their mouths parted with a glistening string of saliva stretching between them, a delicate thread of their shared passion that made Fugaku's breath hitch.
Mikoto's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her usual shy and timid demeanor shattered as she embraced her undeniable allure. She was breathtaking, a goddess among mortals, her beauty so potent that countless men had vied for her affection. But she belonged to Minato—heart, body, and soul—and she reveled in it.
"Oh!" Mikoto gasped, her voice a sultry mix of surprise and delight as Minato, with a commanding strength, lifted her and tossed her onto the bed. The mattress creaked under her weight, her lithe form sinking into the soft sheets as she gazed up at him, her eyes glinting with adoration and hunger. Minato stood before her, gloriously naked, his chiseled muscles gleaming under the candlelight, every inch of him radiating raw masculinity.
His body was a masterpiece, sculpted and powerful, capable of driving any woman to the edge of ecstasy with a mere glance. And then there was his cock—thick, throbbing, and impossibly perfect, a "godly rod" that made Mikoto's mouth water and her core ache with need. She could feel the heat radiating from it, a promise of pleasure that had tamed her, transformed her into the woman she was now—bold, unapologetically sexual, and utterly devoted to her lord.
"Suck it," Minato commanded, his voice low and authoritative, sending a shiver of submission through Mikoto's body. The words were a spark to her already burning desire, and she obeyed without hesitation, crawling toward the edge of the bed with a deliberate, seductive sway of her hips. She was putting on a show, not just for Minato but for Fugaku, who sat in the shadows, his eyes locked on the silhouette of his wife worshipping another man.
Mikoto's delicate hands reached for Minato's cock, her fingers trembling with reverence as they wrapped around its pulsing heat. "Mmmh… it's so big," she purred, her voice dripping with lust as she caressed it, her soft touch a stark contrast to the hardness beneath her fingers.
This was the cock that had claimed her, that had awakened her true self, and now it was her duty—her privilege—to worship it.
She leaned forward, her breath hot against the tip, and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to it, making it twitch in response. A wicked smile curved her lips as she felt Minato's restraint falter, his body reacting to her every touch. She kissed it again, and again, her full lips leaving smudges of crimson lipstick across its length, marking it as hers. Mwah, mwah, mwah.
The room filled with the obscene sounds of her kisses, each one a declaration of her devotion. Fugaku, seated behind the veils, could only watch the shadows dance—a towering Minato gazing down at his wife, her head bowed in worship, her lips lavishing affection on his lord's cock.
Fugaku's hands gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white, his body betraying him with a shameful thrill. It was wrong, so wrong, to find pleasure in his wife's submission to another man, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. The sight of Mikoto, so radiant and uninhibited, stirred something dark and primal within him.
Mwah. Another kiss, and then Mikoto's lips parted, taking Minato's cock into her mouth with a slow, deliberate slide. Slurp, slurp. The wet, rhythmic sounds of her sucking echoed through the room, a testament to her skill and dedication. She worked him with every technique she'd mastered, her tongue swirling, her lips tightening, her throat relaxing to take him deeper.
Minato groaned, his hands tangling in her raven hair, guiding her movements with a possessive grip. For Mikoto, this was more than pleasure—it was worship, a sacred act of submission to the man who owned her body and soul. She loved the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him, the way his breath hitched when she flicked her tongue just right. And she loved knowing Fugaku was watching, his pride crumbling as she gave herself entirely to Minato.
"I'm going to cum," Minato growled, his voice thick with need as he pushed her head down, forcing her to take him deeper. Tears welled in Mikoto's eyes, not from pain but from the intensity of her devotion, the overwhelming need to please him. With a shuddering groan, he came, his release flooding her mouth in hot, thick spurts. Gulp, gulp. Mikoto swallowed eagerly, not wasting a single drop, her throat working to take it all. When she finally pulled back, panting, a few stray drops of cum had splattered across her full, heaving breasts.
"It's… kinda salty," she murmured, her voice breathy and teasing as she scooped the cum with her fingers and licked it off, her eyes locked on Minato's. The sight of her, so brazen and unashamed, made his cock harden again instantly.
"Fugaku," Minato called, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze of lust. Fugaku's heart pounded as he rose from his chair, his hands trembling as he retrieved a small bottle from his pocket and approached the bed.
The veils parted slightly, giving him a clearer view of the scene that had haunted his dreams and twisted his desires. Mikoto was a vision of debauchery, her face pressed against Minato's cock, nuzzling it with a tenderness she had never shown Fugaku. Her lips grazed it with soft, reverent kisses, her sweat-slicked skin glistening, her bare breasts pressed against Minato's thighs. She was a goddess, and Fugaku was nothing more than a spectator to her worship.
"Come in," Minato ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. Fugaku's breath caught, a mix of dread and exhilaration flooding his senses as he stepped through the veils. There she was—his wife, his Mikoto—lost in her adoration of another man. Her eyes flicked to him, and a wicked, taunting smile spread across her lips.
"How does it feel, Fugaku?" Minato asked, his voice laced with dark amusement as he ruffled Mikoto's hair. "Seeing your wife pleasure someone else?"
Fugaku swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's… exhilarating, my lord," he admitted, his cheeks burning with shame. "I've never been this aroused, watching her… with you." The truth spilled out, raw and humiliating, but it was undeniable. The sight of Mikoto, so utterly devoted to Minato, stirred a perverse pleasure in him, a twisted pride in her beauty and submission.
Mikoto's eyes gleamed with mischief as she paused her worship, her hands still stroking Minato's thighs. "Did you hear that, Fugaku?" she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. "You loser. Did you touch yourself while I moaned for my master?" Her words were a blade, slicing through his dignity, and yet they sent a shudder of dark arousal through him. She was different now—bold, cruel, and utterly in control. The Mikoto he'd known, the shy and gentle wife, was gone, replaced by this vixen who thrived on humiliating him.
"I… I…" Fugaku stammered, his voice failing him under her piercing gaze.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Mikoto taunted, her lips curling into a smirk. She pressed herself closer to Minato, her body a living testament to her allegiance. "Look at me, Fugaku. These breasts, these hips, this body—it all belongs to my master." She punctuated her words with a slow, deliberate kiss to Minato's cock, her eyes never leaving her husband's.
The sight of her, so brazenly claiming her devotion to another man, made Fugaku's knees weak and his cock throb with shameful need.
Minato's lips twitched into a smirk, his arousal evident in the way his cock twitched against Mikoto's cheek. "Put the pill in her mouth," he ordered Fugaku, his voice firm and unyielding. Fugaku's hand shook as he extended the pill toward Mikoto, but she ignored him, turning her attention back to Minato's cock.
Slurp, slurp. She sucked him with renewed fervor, her movements sloppy and eager, the wet sounds filling the room like a forbidden melody. Fugaku stood frozen, the pill in his trembling hand, watching his wife lose herself in her worship of another man.
"Ah… mmh…" Minato moaned, caught off guard by the intensity of Mikoto's ministrations. She paused, her lips glistening, and opened her mouth for Fugaku.
He placed the pill on her tongue, and it dissolved instantly, a special concoction Minato had created to cleanse her mouth after such acts. Mikoto swallowed, her eyes flashing with anticipation.
She knew what came next—a brutal, relentless fucking that would leave her trembling and sated.
With a playful giggle, Mikoto crawled to the center of the bed, her movements graceful and teasing. "Someone can't wait," she purred, her voice a sultry challenge.
Minato didn't bother responding with words. He pounced, his body covering hers as he captured her lips in a searing French kiss. Mmh, mmh. Their bodies pressed together, skin sliding against skin, her curves molding perfectly to his hard planes.
Mikoto moved like a siren, her hips grinding against him, her soaked panties the only barrier between her and the cock she craved. She rubbed her ass against him, teasing his twitching length, her moans growing louder as her arousal soaked through the thin fabric.
Fugaku watched, his heart pounding, his body a confusing storm of emotions—humiliation, arousal, and a strange, twisted pride. Mikoto's love for Minato was absolute, her worship of him a sacred act that left no room for Fugaku. And yet, her cruelty, her delight in humiliating him, only deepened his perverse fascination. She was his wife, but she was Minato's goddess, and the sight of her surrender was as agonizing as it was intoxicating.
Minato's hands roamed her body, tearing away her panties with a single, forceful tug. Mikoto gasped, her legs spreading instinctively, her body arching toward him. "Take me, my lord," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. And as Minato positioned himself, ready to claim her once more, Fugaku stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the woman who had once been his, now lost in the throes of passion for another.
The room filled with the sounds of their union—moans, gasps, the rhythmic creak of the bed—and Fugaku's world narrowed to the sight of Mikoto's ecstasy, her body and soul wholly given to Minato, her cruel taunts echoing in his mind as he drowned in the dark, forbidden pleasure of it all.