Things had not gone as I'd expected them to... again, like most things with this woman. But this time — and I couldn't believe I was actually thinking this — it was a positive development. I couldn't even pretend to be mad about it.
The lies she came up with herself were better than any I could have sold her. If she thought the reason the seal materialized was her fault, then all the better. I wasn't complaining.
Kushina's stomach contracted rhythmically as I continued massaging her with chakra-infused hands, the green glow of medical ninjutsu illuminating her pale skin.
Small, helpless ripples that rolled from rib to hip, like the surface of a pond trembling under wind. She writhed in spite of herself when I pressed through tight fascia and coaxed heat into muscle; her belly smoothed, then fluttered again, her breath catching and breaking in sharp little huffs and suppressed groans. The curve of her waist looked almost obscene from this angle. Soft, mature, the kind of softness that meant warmth and sleep and bad decisions you don't regret.
Her thighs pressed together, then fell apart, then pressed together again in an unconscious rhythm that was frankly mesmerizing.
Her belly was fully exposed, her blouse having ridden up almost to her breasts, and there on that smooth expanse of skin was the Eight Trigrams Sealing Style in all its glory. The intricate markings formed a spiral pattern around her navel, with two four-formation formulae positioned above and below in perfect symmetry.
One seated high like a watchtower at the sternum, one low near the basin of the hips. The lines weren't lines. They were threads, and the threads were roads, and the roads had tolls.
Damn fucking dammit, even the seal makes her look hotter, I thought, watching how the markings accentuated the curve of her stomach, drawing the eye inevitably toward her navel like a target.
I kept massaging her with chakra-imbued hands, feeding warmth and circulation, riding the edge between relief and excitement. Every time her breathing hit that staccato rhythm—the one that meant "don't you dare stop"—I throttled back a hair, enough to keep the seal lit and her nerves singing without tipping her over. If she climaxed too hard, or just finished really, she may put a stop to this. It was a delicate balancing act that required far more concentration than I currently possessed.
My priorities were terrible and somehow still noble. Welcome to me.
The markings were just the iceberg's tip, I knew that. The real complexity lay in the underlying chakra pathways and connections that weren't visible to the naked eye. But even these surface-level formulae were incredibly intricate, layers upon layers of encryption and misdirection that would take weeks to properly decode.
I traced one of the seal's primary pathways with my finger, watching how it connected to a secondary formation near her hip. Kushina shifted beneath my touch, her body automatically following the sensation. Her breathing was ragged now, small whimpers escaping her throat despite her best efforts to stay quiet.
The spiral at the center drew my attention next. It was the anchor point, where all the other formations converged. I could see at least three different encryption layers just in this one section, each written in a slightly different dialect of fuinjutsu. Fucking Uzumaki and their paranoia, I thought with grudging admiration.
Four keystones, nested redundancies, Uzumaki arrogance coded into geometry. If you break this, another rises under it, and if you lie to it, it lies back. The lower array hummed differently, heavier, more like ballast than barrier. The spiral wasn't just a lid; it was a pump. It drank, it fed, it measured. There were bleed-lines, too, fine as hair, that tied into reservoirs I couldn't see. Her vitality. Her temper. The thing inside her that hated everything.
As I worked to figure out the connections between the upper and lower formations, Kushina's writhing became more pronounced. She shivered again, hips making those small, searching adjustments that knocked my concentration half a step sideways. My fingers moved with the seal's rhythm, mapping, committing shapes to the unreliable sketchbook in my head. Her scent kept elbowing its way into the margins. It was starting to disrupt my concentration, making it hard to keep track of which line connected to which node.
Her skin followed my touch, greedy as a tide. Every time I passed the navel, her stomach tightened and flexed. Enough. I planted my left palm over the spiral and pressed, firm, flattening her back into the cushions.
"Stay still," I said, my voice sharp with annoyance. It was more of an order than a request.
I shouldn't have talked to her like that. Normally, Kushina would have exploded at being commanded, would have grabbed me by the throat and reminded me exactly who I was dealing with. But I was too annoyed and too horny to indulge her sensibilities right now.
I was trying to understand the underlying connections beneath these markings without having to actually touch the prison seal and risk waking up the Nine-Tails, but this redhead wasn't making my work easy.
Surprisingly, Kushina didn't seem to mind being ordered around when she was this close to pleasure, when she was this desperate for release. "I'm... I'm trying," she gasped, then glared at me through half-lidded eyes. "You should just... focus on the massage and ignore... ignore that." She said the last word with clear shame, referring to the seal on her belly.
"Relax. I know what I'm doing," I said absentmindedly, not even looking at her as I continued studying the seal's structure.
Kushina didn't buy it, and rightfully so. I kept teasing the ascent and then cutting it off, and her patience—what little she had—was wearing thin. "You clearly don't," she bit out, frustration bleeding into her voice. "You keep stopping," she accused, breath shivery. "You keep—" She swallowed whatever admission was next. "Just pick one and stick with it, dattebane…." she added in a mutter.
I clicked my tongue in irritation and slipped my hand under her dress. She jolted at the sudden contact, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. I found her soaked panties easily and worked my thumb between her thighs until I located her swollen clit. I stroked it firmly.
Kushina's head dropped back against the couch, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. Her entire body went taut as a bowstring.
But most importantly, she shut her mouth up.
"Much better," I murmured. "Good girl. Stay like that."
I really shouldn't have been talking to her like that. I knew what it did to her pride, and to mine. This wasn't my validation-starved student. This was not Sakura to be calling her good girl, like she was some obedient pet rather than the feared Red Hot Habanero. But my control was slipping badly, and the need to put her in her place, to show her exactly who was in charge right now, was taking over my better judgment.
"Don't... don't call me..." she started to protest, not quite managing the bite she wanted. "I'm not—" but whatever she was going to say broke off into a strangled moan when I twisted her hardened clit between my fingers, chakra pulsing through the sensitive bundle of nerves.
I just hummed in acknowledgment and focused back on the Eight Trigrams Seal decorating the Hokage's wife's belly.
The Eight Trigrams was a masterwork of misdirection and ….. I didn't hold any hope that I'd be able to reverse-engineer it here and now.
I knew pretty the Uzumaki's work, knew how they fucking loved to obfuscate everything. Even their most basic formulae were encrypted at least three times over, with false pathways and deliberate dead ends scattered throughout. Even the teaching scrolls in the village library were designed more to discourage you than to actually teach anything useful. It stood to reason that one of their greatest achievements would be a nightmare puzzle.
So no, I didn't expect to understand it completely. But I still felt disappointed when I had to accept that reality.
I wasn't discouraged, though. If I were the type to give up easily, all that time I'd spent in the library trying to unfuck the Uzumaki's deliberate fuckery would have been wasted.
Since I couldn't understand it here and now, I'd have to be crude about it. I'd memorize as much as possible and work out the details later. It wasn't ideal. My memory was decent but far from photographic, and trying to recall complex fuinjutsu from memory was a recipe for dangerous errors. But it was better than nothing.
With my faulty memory as my only tool, I went over every marking, every connection, every subtle variation in the seal's construction. Kushina, of course, hadn't been docile during this process. While I focused on memorization, I used the hand on her stomach to keep her still, pressing down whenever she started to squirm too much.
She didn't seem to mind that my hand had stopped moving, didn't care that I'd abandoned the massage excuse entirely. Not when my other hand was working shamelessly under her dress. Well, not much under anymore, since the hem had fallen down, exposing more of her pale thighs.
Only her hand gripping the fabric kept any semblance of modesty. She held the fabric clutched in one hand like a lady at a scandalized tea. The other hand had migrated to her mouth, teeth worrying her knuckles, the picture of a proud woman pretending to be composed while she wasn't.
Even though my mind was focused on the seal and memorization, I still kept her balanced on that edge... or at least I tried to.
Without active control on my part, my fingers moved on instinct. And my instinct was always to escalate. I didn't know when exactly it happened, and the redhead temptress beneath me surely didn't know either, but at some point, I'd pushed her drenched panties to the side and worked two fingers deep into her married cunt.
I only realized I'd gone too far when I felt an earthquake roll through her body. Before I could withdraw my fingers, she clasped my hand with both of hers and pushed it hard against her crotch, grinding shamelessly.
Her orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Her teeth gritted together so hard I worried she'd crack them, determined not to make a sound even as her body convulsed. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers with supernatural strength, rippling and pulsing in waves that felt almost violent. Her hair began to float around her head like she was underwater, red strands defying gravity as her Uzumaki chakra surged uncontrolled.
Drool escaped the corner of her mouth as her head thrashed from side to side. Her thighs clamped around my wrist like a vice, trapping my hand against her spasming cunt. Her legs flailed and then clamped, then flailed again wildly, and I had to press down hard on her belly with my free hand to keep her from bucking herself right off the couch.
The aftermath was equally ungraceful. She lay there panting, chest heaving, her body occasionally twitching with residual aftershocks. Her long red hair had fallen in a wild cascade, spilling off the couch and pooling on the floor like spilled wine. Sweat glistened on her flushed skin, and more drool had escaped her mouth to trail down her chin. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, exposing her completely, and her legs fair and twitching with my hand trapped between them.
I watched the seal's markings slowly fade from her trembling belly, my mind still processing what I'd just witnessed. That was not a normal orgasm at all. As expected of the Uzumaki bloodline. No normal woman would have such an intense climax. Hell, most would probably die from the sheer intensity.
I'd barely gotten seventy percent memorized, but I felt only mildly disappointed as the seal disappeared completely. That mild disappointment turned to pleasant surprise when the redhead MILF, still lost in her post-orgasmic haze and clearly not thinking straight, started shamelessly rubbing my trapped hand against her oversensitive cunt like a bitch in heat.
Stripped of a mother's sanctity and a wife's pretense, Kushina Uzumaki sank into the filth of her own hunger, losing herself to the primal fervor of her carnal needs.
My lips felt bone dry, and my pants were painfully tight. My fingers instinctively curled inside her, grazing the ceiling of her pussy where I knew she had a particularly weak spot.
That seemed to jerk her out of her blissed-out state. She snapped her head toward me and looked at me as if she'd just remembered who I was and that I was even there. Her face was a mess. Hair plastered to her sweat-slicked skin, drool on her chin, flush spreading down her neck, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. She looked nothing like the dignified mother or respected wife of the Hokage. She looked thoroughly fucked and desperate for more.
Then she pushed my hand away from her cunt, a sticky trail of fluid connecting my fingers to her pussy before it broke. Then she pushed me, too, more panicked than violent. She stood in a brittle rush and swayed. I reached to steady her; she batted me off without looking. Her gaze stayed on the floor until she could trust her feet. She righted herself after a moment and hurried toward the doorway.
She didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say either. I didn't have the right sentence. So I watched her cross the room on legs that still argued with gravity, stop at the corner where the hall met the living room, and put a hand on the wall like it was the only honest thing left in her house.
Just as I was about to break the silence, she bent slightly and stripped off her panties. The movement was awkward with the long green dress in the way. She had to lift the fabric with one hand while pushing the soaked underwear down her thighs with the other, then stepping out of them one foot at a time. Her legs were still weak and trembling, making the whole process look vulnerable, surprising, and strangely intimate.
The redhead hesitated for a moment, then said without looking back, "Naruto's been sleeping longer than he should," she said, voice steadier than her knees. "Could you wake him up? His room is the second door on the right." Her tone had shifted completely, back to that maternal tone, like she was just asking a favor from a family friend rather than standing there without panties after the most intense orgasm I'd ever witnessed.
She didn't wait for my answer. She walked away, spine straightening by inches, and vanished down the corridor. The underwear stayed on the floor like a dropped gauntlet.
Just like last time.
I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding and shifted uncomfortably, adjusting my painfully hard dick in my pants. Everything hurt; my cock, my balls, and I was pretty sure I'd need a change of underwear as well.
I looked at the Uzumaki matriarch's panties on the floor. I didn't grab them immediately. They looked good just waiting there, a small trophy of conquest. Then I glanced at the other pair sitting on the table beside the tea, the "clean" ones she'd initially offered me. They were nearly identical, both plain white cotton.
Was that intentional? I smiled despite myself. What a lost opportunity to tease her about it. Later.
Well, I thought as I finally bent to collect my prize, at least now I have a replacement pair. And a faulty seventy percent of the Eight Trigrams Sealing Style memorized. Not a bad haul for a stomach massage.
Though this wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. With how she was acting, it was pretty clear Kushina would need another stomach massage.
— — — — — — — — — —
A/N: Sup, guys! These last few chapters really fought me. Kushina is stubborn on the page, too. Funny how this whole fic started as a one-shot for her, and yet she's the hardest one to write.
Anyway, thanks for sticking around, and let me know your thoughts.
PS. You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem