Sakura's eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, her green eyes slowly glazing over as the fight drained out of her, replaced by a hazy, drug-like confusion as my fingers danced between her thighs. Her breath came in uneven stutters around my thumb, warm and wet and getting wetter by the second.
Down below, my other hand was busy mapping the topography of her restricted valley.
I traced the contour of her panties through those ridiculously thin black shorts, feeling out every detail like I was reading braille. The fabric was soaked through and through, clinging to her like a second skin, and beneath it I could map out the shape of her—the soft puffiness of virgin labia that had never been touched by anything but her own inexperienced fingers, they overlapped in that indecent little pout that made my cock twitch.
Man, she was drenched.
I pressed my fingertips against her covered slit, feeling the heat radiating through the material, and had to suppress a groan. This wasn't normal arousal. This was too much, too fast, too fucking eager for a girl who'd been clutching her pearls minutes ago. But…. Sakura wasn't Ino. Ino had been a live wire from the first touch, gasping and arching like she'd been engineered for pleasure.
Sakura was supposed to be the uptight one. The one with barriers. The delusional girl who needed three pep talks before she'd even consider being honest about what she wanted. Yet here she was, creating a swamp in her shorts just moments after choking on my cock.
I pushed my thumb harder against her tongue, pinning the soft muscle against the floor of her mouth.
"So," I said, keeping my voice low and conversational despite the fact that my other hand was currently molding itself to her cunt. "Ready for the next lesson? Or are you gonna tell me to stop?"
Her eyes flickered away as if not expected to be put in such a place where she had to decided and voice her decision.
Nonetheless, she still tried excuses. What came out was an incoherent slur of syllables, garbled by my thumb and the saliva pooling in her mouth. Drool escaped the corner of her lips, trailing down her chin, and she didn't even seem to notice or chose not to. Progress. When I'd shoved my cock down her throat, she'd looked ready to die of embarrassment at the spit. Now she was too far gone to care.
"'on't 'now," she finally managed, the words thick and wet.
I smirked. "Is that so?"
She looked away, her face burning red, unable to hold my gaze.
I gave her covered pussy two sharp taps—pat pat—and watched her jolt like I'd electrocuted her. Her thighs clamped together reflexively, trapping my hand between those soft, pale legs, and a strangled whimper escaped around my thumb.
Fucking beautiful.
I withdrew my hand slowly and held it up between us. My fingers glistened in the dim hotel light, coated in a viscous sheen that stretched between them when I spread them apart. The evidence of her arousal caught the light, undeniable and obscene.
Sakura's eyes locked onto my hand, then darted away like she'd been scalded. Her whole face went crimson, spreading down her neck to disappear beneath the collar of that red shirt.
"You said you don't know," I murmured, playing with the slickness between my fingers, watching it web and stretch. "But this tells a different story, doesn't it? I think you know exactly what you want."
She made a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat and lunged forward slightly. She buried her face against my hand, her teeth closed around my thumb—not hard enough to hurt, just a reflexive bite—and she froze when she realized what she'd done. Her jaw went slack immediately.
"'ensei," she slurred, and damn, the way she couldn't even pronounce it properly with her tongue pinned made my dick ache. "You 'aid you wouldn'... you wouldn' make fun of me..."
"Oh, I'm not making fun of you," I said, stroking the flat of her tongue with my thumb, feeling it twitch beneath the pad. Her mouth was so fucking warm. "I'm just asking for honesty. Honesty is the first rule of being a good student. You've been acting like you hated every second of what we just did, but….. this slippery little mess says you might have enjoyed it a lot more than you're letting on."
Her eyes went wide again. The battle between her pride, her "good girl" programming, and her raging hormones played out across her face in real-time. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to slap me and call me a pervert. But the aftershocks of the act were still humming in her veins, and my thumb was still claiming her mouth.
Her lips trembled around my thumb.
"I... I di'n't..." she tried, but the words kept catching. "'idn't hate it..."
I hummed, removing my thumb from her mouth with an audible pop. Saliva connected us for a moment before breaking, and I used that same wet thumb to stroke her bottom lip, tracing the soft pink flesh.
"Repeat that for sensei," I said. "Clearly this time."
Sakura's eyelashes fluttered again—that unconscious tell that meant she was about to give in—and her face flushed even hotter. She was practically glowing.
"I didn't... hate it," she whispered, her voice small but steady. "It was just... really big, and I didn't know what I was doing, and it was embarrassing because I kept messing up and gagging and—" She bit her lip. "But it wasn't... I mean, I didn't hate it."
"See?" I breathed hard. I wanted to rip these useless shorts off her and pull her down on my shaft. "That wasn't so hard."
"But I didn't—" She gestured frantically at my sticky fingers, her face cycling through about fifteen shades of red. "I didn't, um, I didn't—that. I didn't do that."
Interesting. She could call me out earlier with complete bluntness, could accuse me of using her training as an excuse, but she couldn't even name an orgasm. The contrast was almost funny.
"Is that so?" I hummed, tilting my head. "It seems that mother or daughter, Haruno women need a good little spanking before they can be honest with themselves."
"No—wait!" Sakura's breath hitched. She leaned forward without seeming to realize it, her knees pressing harder against my lap, and I felt the exact moment she registered my cock—already half-hard again and getting harder—trapped between her legs. Her eyes went wide. She froze like a rabbit, then immediately tried to act like she hadn't noticed, shifting her weight slightly but not pulling away. "I'm not lying!" she added quickly, her voice pitching up. "I'm telling the truth! I didn't—I wasn't—not then!"
Huh?
I caught her chin, forcing her to look at me again. "Not then?" I repeated, my smirk widening. "Then when?"
She chewed on her bottom lip, and her nose scrunched up in that way it did when she was annoyed but didn't want to admit it.
"Sensei, you're so annoying," she whined, but there was no heat in it. Just embarrassment and frustration, and that underlying current of need she couldn't quite hide.
I raised an eyebrow. "Answer the question, Sakura." I roughly forced her face down. "Unless you want your ass as red as your mother's."
Her whole body went rigid. For a second, I thought she might actually bolt, but then her shoulders sagged, and the words came tumbling out in a humiliated rush.
"In the closet, alright!? When I was in the closet, I—I touched—touched — but I didn't mean to! I just couldn't stop, and I'm not a pervert, sensei, I swear. You have to believe me, I'm really not, it's just—you and Mom were—and I couldn't help it, and I know it's wrong but—but you said it's a normal reaction, you have to—mmph! Mughmp mmh!"
I shoved my thumb back into her mouth mid-sentence, pinning her tongue down and cutting off the spiral before she could work herself into a full panic attack. Her eyes went wide and watery, but she didn't pull away. Just looked at me with those big green eyes, pleading and ashamed and so fucking turned on she was shaking.
So, while Mebuki was getting her ass spanked raw, while her pathetic husband was getting cucked in absentia, while her mother choked on my cock like her life depended on it... Sakura Haruno hadn't just watched.
She'd gotten off on it.
Damn. I was the one who put her there, but I couldn't take credit for this, hell no. This family really was something else.
Sakura made a muffled sound around my thumb—probably trying to explain herself further, to justify, to make excuses—but with her tongue pinned she couldn't manage anything coherent. Just wet, slurred noises that went straight to my dick.
"It's alright," I said, stroking her tongue slowly. "What you did isn't perverted."
It's way beyond that, I thought, but kept that part to myself.
"Physiologically speaking," I continued, adopting my best lecture voice, "arousal helps the body deal with high-stress situations. Seeking relief... that's just a biological imperative. It's a coping mechanism. I won't think less of you for handling your stress."
I watched her eyes clear slightly as she latched onto the logic, the justification. She was already spinning it in her head, I could tell—building the narrative that would let her live with what she'd done, what she was doing. And my words were just fuel for that fire, helping her construct whatever delusion she needed to keep going.
Good girl.
I brought my sticky fingers back between her legs, sliding them under that useless pink apron skirt to cup her through her shorts again. Man, I loved how accessible this outfit was. She gasped around my thumb, her hips jerking forward involuntarily.
"Stress is dangerous," I murmured, starting to rub her slit in slow, deliberate circles. Her whole body went taut, her thighs trembling. "And those needs you're feeling? They're distracting. Both things that can end a shinobi's career real quick." I pressed harder, feeling the way her lips molded to my touch through the fabric, the heat practically burning my fingers. "I don't want to see you injured because you couldn't focus. It's my duty as your sensei to make sure you're in peak condition."
"Mmruu ty?" she slurred around my thumb, her voice breathy and confused.
"Yes," I said, pressing my fingers against her entrance, just enough pressure to make her feel it, not enough to actually penetrate even through the shorts. "My duty."
Too much or too sudden for her to handle, her hands flew to my shoulders, gripping tight, and her long pink hair fell forward, curtaining us both. Her breathing was coming faster now, her chest rising and falling beneath that red shirt, and I could feel her pulse hammering beneath my thumb where it rested against her tongue.
I slid from her mouth and reached up with my free hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, exposing the bright red flush spreading across her skin. Leaning close, I whispered directly into her ear.
"Just like your mother said—this is normal. You can even think of it as training if it helps." I traced the seam of her entrance through her shorts, feeling her whole body shudder. "See how beneficial this is?"
I started moving my fingers more purposefully then—not quite fingering her, not through the fabric, but rubbing and pressing and mapping out every sensitive spot I could find. Her covered slit was so swollen I could feel every detail, could trace where her lips parted, could feel the little divot where her entrance would be if these damn shorts weren't in the way.
Sakura's breath came in short, sharp pants now. Her fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to hurt, and her hips started moving in tiny, unconscious circles, grinding against my hand like she couldn't help herself.
"But—but it's wrong," she managed, her voice trembling and barely above a whisper. "This is—we shouldn't—"
"If it was wrong, you would have told me to stop," I countered calmly. "If it was wrong, your mother wouldn't have left us alone. If it were wrong, I wouldn't allow it."
I shifted my hand, fingers digging in slightly to find the center of the storm.
"It's frowned upon by civilians, sure. But we aren't civilians, are we? We're shinobi. We take what we need to survive. This isn't wrong, Sakura. It's just... a secret."
My thumb found it.
Her clit.
Even through the layer of her shorts and panties, it was prominent. A hard, swollen little pearl begging for attention.
"Besides," I whispered, applying sudden, firm pressure directly on the button. "You started this. You helped me. I'm just… returning the favor."
Her whole body seized up, her back arching. Any coherent thoughts had still been rattling around in that pretty pink head, scattered like leaves. Her eyes rolled back into her head as the pleasure disseminated whatever resistance was left in her brain.
"R-retunrning... the... favore?" she whispered, her voice high and desperate. "It's just... helping? Like... like training?"
I smirked.
She wasn't asking for clarification. Oh no. My clever little student was asking for permission. Her delusional mind had already taken my justification, added some of her own, rolled it around in her mouth like candy, and swallowed it whole. Now she was reaching out for external validation, asking her sensei to rubber-stamp her delusion and lies so she could stay "good" in her own narrative.
It was classic Sakura logic. If I agreed with her, then she could shift the blame. She could say her sensei told her it was fine. She could preserve that precious self-image of the proper, well-behaved girl while still getting fingered by the man her mother was cheating with.
"Exactly," I said smoothly, my voice warm and reassuring. "It's just helping. Stress relief is a critical part of shinobi wellness. I wouldn't be a very good teacher if I let you walk around distracted, would I?"
She exhaled a shaky breath, her body sagging slightly against me. "Right... right. That's just—Just... fine."
"Good girl."
I didn't give her time to overthink it. While her brain was busy securing that flimsy moral lifeline, my hand drifted upward. I slid my palm from her inner thigh to her hip, hooking my fingers into the waistband of those tight black shorts.
Sakura's eyes went wide. Her breath hitched.
"Sensei—wait—are you—"
"Relax," I murmured. "I'm just making sure you get the help you need."
I tugged the waistband down slightly, just enough to slip my hand inside. The elastic of her panties followed, and then I was in—past the layers of fabric, past the boundary of propriety, into forbidden territory.
"Ah!" Sakura jerked violently, her thighs clamping together on instinct. "sto—S-sensei! You can't—I mean—that's—oh—"
But she didn't say stop. At least not completely.
She grabbed my wrist with one hand, not to pull me away, but just to hold on. Like she needed the anchor.
The heat hit me instantly. A humid, enclosed warmth that felt like stepping into a sauna. I pushed past the cotton barrier of her panties, sliding my hand down over her lower belly. Her skin was feverish, smooth as silk, trembling violently under my palm.
I reached the V of her legs and paused.
Huh.
I brushed my fingertips against soft fur. I admit, I was surprised. With how high-maintenance Sakura was about her hair, her clothes, and her image, I expected her to be completely bare down here, waxed to a porcelain finish like a doll. But there was hair. Not a jungle, but a soft, neatly trimmed patch of natural moss, damp and matted with her own fluids.
It was strangely, obscenely endearing. It reminded me that for all her posturing, she was still a busy student, a girl who hadn't fully curated every inch of herself for a man's consumption yet. It made the wetness beneath it feel rawer. Dirtier.
And damn, was she wet.
As I pushed through the hair and cupped her mound, my fingers were instantly coated. She was slick with it, a thick, honey-like glaze that made a wet squelch as I adjusted my grip.
"Fuck, Sakura," I breathed, unable to keep the raw appreciation out of my voice. "You're drenched."
"Don't—don't say that!" she hissed, her face burning crimson. She buried her face against my shoulder, hiding from her own shame.
"It's a compliment," I said, my tone softening. "It means your body is responding exactly how it should. You're healthy. Responsive. There's nothing wrong with that."
She made a small, wounded noise against my skin.
I took my time mapping her virgin slit.
First, I traced the outer line of her lips, just grazing the sensitive skin through the slickness. Sakura flinched like she'd been burned, her hips jerking to the left in a futile attempt to evade the sensation. "Wait—wait—not there—" A distinct, high-pitched shiver ran through her frame, rattling the hands still clutching my shoulders.
"Sensitive," I noted dryly.
Then, I pressed my thumb into the seam, parting her slightly. "Sensei! That's—that's not—you shouldn't—" She hissed through her teeth, her head snapping back up, eyes wide and glassy. Her legs parted apart for a moment, then quickly pressed together instinctively, trapping my hand in the warmth of her thighs, intensifying the contact rather than breaking it.
"Don't... don't close up," I chided gently, and pushed deeper.
I circled the entrance of her vagina with my middle finger, teasing the tight ring of muscle without entering. Sakura gasped, rising up on her toes. Her heels lifted out of her boots, her body stretching taut like a bowstring. She felt the invasion threatening, the pressure of my finger promising something she claimed to be afraid of but pushed her hips forward to meet.
"W-wait—" she stammered, breathless.
I ignored her plea and brought my thumb up, sliding it straight through the slick fold to find the hidden pearl at the top.
I didn't tease it. I pressed the pad of my thumb directly against her hardened clitoris and rubbed.
"Hngk! "
The sound that ripped out of her was a strangled, guttural noise, half-scream, half-sob. Her knees buckled instantly. If I hadn't been holding her up with my hand in her pants and her gripping my shirt, she would have collapsed into a heap on the floor. Her fingernails dug into my deltoids, likely drawing blood through the shirt, but the jolt of electricity that shot through her was worth the scratch.
She was trying so hard to stay quiet. To control her breathing. To pretend she wasn't falling apart under my hand. Her teeth were clenched, her jaw tight, every muscle in her body coiled like a spring.
"Silence," I observed, my voice dropping to a low, challenging murmur. "Trying to be quiet so your mommy doesn't hear?"
Sakura nodded frantically against my chest, her face burning. "Y-yes... please..."
"That's good," I praised, though the smirk in my voice was audible. "A kunoichi must maintain stealth in all environments. Even under... extreme duress."
I kept my thumb planted firmly on her pleasure point and started to vibrate my hand.
"Let's call this a control exercise," I whispered, nipping at the sensitive skin of her earlobe. "I'm going to see how much 'stress' you can handle before you break the silence. Do you think you can handle that, my diligent student?"
Sakura opened her eyes. They were swimming with tears and lust, green pools of conflict. But beneath the shame, I saw that spark of stubborn pride. That Sakura Haruno's inability to back down from a challenge, especially when she feels inadequate.
She swallowed hard, trembling from her toes to her ears, and nodded. She set her jaw, locking her teeth together.
"I can—I can handle it," she panted, her voice trembling but stubborn. "I'm not—I'm not weak—"
I smiled.
Let's see how much you can hold in, princess.
— — — — — — — — — — —
You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem (PS. Tsunami finally arrived at Konoha)