DISCLAIMER: This author claims no ownership of SKIP BEAT! or its characters.
Warning: NSFW.
II:
I am obsessed with my husband's cock.
I hurry home, past the salarymen and the schoolchildren crowding the station—it's inconvenient and requires me to wear a disguise, but the train will get me home the fastest today. Aboveground, the traffic is in gridlock, and I don't want to spend those minutes deflecting Yashiro's curious comments while he drives me home.
I have barely been able to keep my hands away from my pussy all day—even now, I'm dripping. Every moment I'm alone, I think about dipping my fingers into my slick slit, pretending that it's him who's readying me for our mating. Even now I'm wondering if every man here can smell my arousal, my heat. I am a fertile slut ready for breeding, and I want to be ready for him when he gets home.
We started yesterday, right after he got back from the States. He rented out an office, pretended to be a doctor for me—the examination was, in every way, satisfying. There is a rawness to our fucking now that hadn't been there before…an element of danger, a feeling of running out of control. My submission to him feels more complete, his ownership more thorough. Fucking him like this—without barrier or precaution—feels like the ultimate surrender. I hadn't realized the feeling of breeding would be so primal—that the opening of my body to his seed would make the feeling of his cock inside my hungry little pussy so intense. It is filthy and yet holy, this act that turns a maiden into a mother.
He fucked me this morning and his cum ran down my legs—I gathered whatever I could and tasted him. I came to the studio soiling the panties I wore to work with the slow drip from my cunt. I took a shower after the last stunt scene today and cleaned myself up—the exercise, at least, was a welcome reprieve from the constant torture of being away from him.
I got back to our condo as the blue hour gained ascendancy from the gold. The living room is dim, lit only by the remains of the sunset and the lights of Tokyo's skyscrapers out the window. I kick off my shoes quickly, shedding my coat and my purse in a mad dash to get myself ready. I had an outfit picked out for tonight—a red confection made of bands of ribbon criss-crossing across my body. It is the kind of thing made to be looked at and then torn off, and already I am anticipating how he'll slide the bands from my nipples as he consumes them with his mouth.
I am only a few steps into our living room when I hear him.
"Kyoko-chan." The voice is low, like the growl of an animal in the night.
It's enough to have me jump nearly out of my skin—I hadn't sensed him at all in my rush.
"You're late," he says.
The voice sends a jolt through me and through my pussy. I turn my eyes to our living room and I see his silhouette seated on the armchair by the window. He's an imposing figure even sitting down—even in this gloaming I can sense the power in that body. A casual flick of his wrist and the lamp lights. I see the intensity in his eyes.
Master, my mind says, and my body follows. It's not his name. It's not his title. It's who he is. I want to crawl to him and caress him and take his manhood into my mouth, just to hear him sigh in pleasure.
"I don't often make house calls, Kyoko-chan," he says. He shifts and I see the stethoscope around his neck. Doctor, then, I correct myself. "And when I do I expect my patients to be ready for me."
"I—I didn't—" I stutter. I had thought he'd be home later—hadn't Yashiro said so? He's preempted me again, turned my plans upside down. "I didn't know you were coming, Doctor," I say.
"You didn't?" He tilts his head and grins at me with the Emperor's eyes. "Did I not say a woman like you needed a man's load in her holes daily?" he asks. "Did you not beg me to breed your dirty little pussy?" He stands and takes a slow step towards me. "Did you not take me seriously, slut?"
"I'm not a slut," I say defensively. It's a game we play—I deny it, and he proves to me that I am.
His grin widens as he advances. I stand rooted to my spot, feeling the gravity of his body as it moves towards me. He stops in front of me and I breathe him in, filling myself with his scent. "If you're not a slut," he says, "then why is it I can smell your horny little cunt from across the room?" A hand takes me by the throat—swift enough so that I gasp when it closes around me, gentle enough so that I don't choke.
Roughly, he kisses me. Insistent lips move against mine and I have no choice but to open my mouth to him, kissing him back as his tongue plunders me. He is undressing me as we kiss—I shrug off the cardigan, the skirt, the shirt with his assistance. I do the same to him, pawing desperately at the buttons that are keeping me from his skin until his shirt comes apart and I push it off his shoulders. When he pulls back, it's to push me down.
I fall onto my knees and the action is as natural as breathing. A frantic need is possessing me and I rise up off of my haunches to desperately undo his belt buckle and then the zipper that holds the object of my desire captive. My hand brushes against it; it's hard, tenting the fabric as I rush to bring him to my mouth. Need pulses through me as I take him into my hand. After a long day of unfulfilled craving, I am triumphant when my mouth engulfs the head of his manhood.
I make a point of looking up at him, catching his eyes looking down at me as I purse my lips around the head. I take him in as far as I can—he's too big for me and I gag, but I need him, I need to taste him, to feel him. His hand has gathered my hair into a knot, gently guiding me to a rhythm. I worship his cock on my knees until I feel his balls tighten in my hands, and then he stops me. "Up," he says hoarsely.
I get up. My knees are shaking as I look up into his eyes. "Finish," he says, motioning at my deshabille. Embarrassed, I step out from the skirt that has pooled at my feet. I am in my bra and panties—sensible ones for a day out shooting, nothing sexy. But the look in his eyes makes me shiver and flood. It's clear what he thinks of me, lingerie or not. I take a step towards him and again he moves like a striking cobra, tearing at my bra until I feel the clasps at my back give way. There's nothing to hide the puckered hardness of my nipples as he stares at them. "Beautiful," he murmurs. He looks at me as if I am a new acquisition—a new lover, and not his wife. And then his hands run down both sides of me, caressing my body from the swell of my breasts to the swell of my hips. He raises his right hand and spans the flat expanse of my belly; I close my eyes, willing him to fuck me until I am round and gravid with his child. I feel his fingers hook against the waistband of my cute-but-sensible panties as he slowly peels them off. They are hopelessly soaked through with the evidence of my arousal. The panties fall to the ground and I step out of them.
He gives me a knowing look and then grabs me, turning me around so that my back is flush to his front. An arm yanks my leg upwards, opening me and forcing me to balance on a single leg. I gasp as the air cools my open cunt, but now his other hand is forcing my petals open. I moan as he parts my folds, humping at empty air as my pussy drools for him. He knows exactly what he's doing.
One finger enters me. "I thought you weren't a slut?" he asks.
I moan incoherently. "But you want something in this tight little pussy, don't you, Kyoko?" he asks.
A second finger enters me and I am conscious of my hips humping of their own accord. "Mmmph—Kuon—" I say.
"I know you fucking want me," he says. "I can see it. I can taste it."
"Yes," I hiss, "yes—"
"You're nothing but a slut for breeding…"
I moan and writhe against his fingers. "Yes," I'm saying, "Yes please breed me, Kuon—please—oh god make me pregnant—"
He growls and kisses me again; twirls me around on my tiptoes like we're dancing a tango and I feel him lift me at the waist. Instinctively I wrap my legs around him, feeling the hardness of his abs but wanting to grind against his cock. He holds me still, keeps me from achieving any kind of friction against his body. I am dying for his cock and he knows it.
"Whose cunt is this, Kyoko?" he asks.
"Yours, Sir," I say. "It's yours—" He looks me in the eye and holds my gaze and walks. I realize he is taking me to the bedroom. "—please, Sir, I need you…"
"Very well." He lowers me onto the bed and I quiver. Fulfillment is coming and my body knows it. "Whatever my patient wants," he says.
I moan and hold my legs apart for him in open invitation. "Oh no." He's chuckling at me. "You didn't think it would be that simple, did you?"
I whimper in frustration and my body arches towards him. I know he must be affected—his cock is rock hard and still jutting forwards towards me.
"As I am breeding your sloppy pussy, love," he says, "it will be imperative to keep your body open for my cock."
I am dimly aware now of an apparatus being lowered from above me. Did he install this? It is hanging over our bed, suspended by rope from the ceiling.
A hand reaches for my ankle and I feel bands around them, tightening.
A spreader bar, I realize. He was going to immobilize me on our bed in a breeding press, my legs held apart forcefully by a spreader bar. It would be just like yesterday, with the restraints holding me apart for his use.
My arms are next, tied above my head. I test the binding as he grins and then kisses me.
He descends. His mouth leaves mine and I whimper at the loss of him momentarily—but then I gasp as he sucks my neck and then my breasts. He kisses down my flat belly and then the tender flesh at the inside of my thighs. He leaves me desperate and whining for his mouth on my clit—he knows what I want, and knows exactly how to make me beg. When the flat of his tongue finally licks me, I gasp in relief and then moan as the contact stokes the flame. His fingers dip inside me again, pushing in and curling upwards while his tongue flutters at my clit and I can't help cumming.
He doesn't stop licking as I cum. He laps at the copious juices leaking from my cunt, feeling the way I spasm around his fingers so helplessly. When I am done he readies himself. The tip of his cock nudges my outer folds. I feel his hand parting me. He doesn't move. Everything in me is tense, waiting for it. Waiting for the first thrust to enter, to split my cunt in two.
"You're going to take my cum in your unprotected cunt, Kyoko," he says. "I am going to use you tonight, over and over…"
The cock enters me. I feel it, stretching me—inch by inch. He stops, reverses, and then pushes forward again until he's balls deep in me. I can't even hold him as he begins, slowly at first and then faster and faster until I'm moaning and screaming incoherently at his size. "That's right, slut, cum on this cock," he's telling me. "I'm going to fuck you like this until I breed you."
His words inflame me. I cum. Over and over again, I cum. I squeeze at the cock that invades me, wanting more and more and more, until his thrusts become erratic and he pushes inside me with one great cry.
Ecstasy. Bliss. I am dizzy. It feels as if my heart can't keep up with my breath. He collapses atop my bound body and then rolls to the side. A trail of his cum escapes my pussy and I feel it dripping down my ass and onto the bed.
"I'm not letting you go, love," he says. He kisses me softly and I doze in his arms, only to wake as his cock uses my hole again.
I lose count that night of how many times he breeds me, and when he finally lets me go, I am barely coherent for all the orgasms he's given me.
I can't wait till he gives me more.