Warning: Rape

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After the meeting with Hanabi, after the sparring between Sasami and Naruko, after the sun had gone down, Sarada sat cross-legged on her small, unmade bed, staring blankly at the wall of her family's tiny, shoebox apartment. The room was a muted palette of shadows and moonlight, the only color coming from a solitary candle flickering on the windowsill. The soft light danced across her face, highlighting the fresh scratches that marred her otherwise smooth skin. Her eyes were vacant, reflecting the flickering flame like two shimmering pools of sadness. The candle cast eerie shadows over the sparse furniture, creating an atmosphere of quiet despair that seemed to thicken the very air around her.

Her fingers traced the contours of her bandages, feeling the firmness beneath them, a painful reminder of the night she had hoped would never come. Her heart was a tumultuous storm of regret and confusion. This curse, Orochimaru, and the pills, it just made everything so black and blue. A condition that brought her unwanted attention and annoyance. It had been four months since the last time, and the unmistakable signs had begun to emerge again. The uncontrollable growth had started, and she knew all too well the price she would have to pay to be rid of it. Plus with Karin taking away the pills because of the side effects and then Moegi speaking about the rapes, it was all just too much.

The cock was gone now, retreated back into the depths of her body like a defeated serpent retreating from the light. She had finally had sex, but it wasn't the gentle, loving experience she had dreamed of. It was violent and harrowing, a battle she hadn't chosen to fight. Her first time had been stolen from her, a brutal initiation into a world she had never wanted to join. The tears she had shed were not of relief, but of regret and remorse.

The girl from the convenience store, her eyes wide with fear, her body trembling with each forced thrust—Sarada tried to banish the memories but they clung to her mind like a stubborn stain. She had felt the girl's softness give way to her, heard her muffled screams and the tearing of fabric. The smell of blood and sweat had filled the alleyway, a pungent reminder of the beast she had become. The taste of copper had lingered on her tongue, a bitter reminder of the power she wielded and the pain she had caused.
Her hand moved from her bandages to her cheek, tracing the path of the girl's desperate nails. The scratches burned with a phantom fire, a constant reminder of the struggle. The feel of the girl's hot breath on her neck, her nails digging into Sarada's skin, had been a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding concrete beneath her. The sensation of the girl's wetness enveloping her had been overwhelming, confusing her mind with a mix of horror and a primal need that she hadn't understood until it was too late.

Her cock had been a strange, alien presence between her legs, thick and heavy. As it grew, it had felt like a part of her she didn't recognize, demanding attention, demanding release. The precum had beaded at the tip, slick and sticky on her fingertips. The anticipation had built up inside her like a volcano ready to erupt, the pressure unbearable. The moment she had felt the girl's wet folds, she had been lost to the sensation, the boundaries between them blurring as she pushed herself inside.

The thrusting had started out rough, driven by instinct and need, but as the girl's initial resistance had given way to reluctant acceptance, Sarada had found a rhythm that seemed almost natural. With every push, she felt a deep, primal pleasure that resonated through her body, a pleasure that she had never experienced before. It was a strange, twisted symphony of pain and ecstasy, and she had been the maestro, her body moving in ways that seemed almost out of her control.

Her mind reeled with the memory of the girl's warm, tight embrace around her, the way she had clenched around her as if trying to push her out, even as she took her in deeper. The friction had been exquisite, sending shivers down her spine and igniting a fire in her belly. The noises she had made were a mix of pain and pleasure, and Sarada had found herself getting lost in the sensations, her body moving of its own accord, seeking more, craving release.

The thrusting had become almost rhythmic, her hips rising and falling in a dance of dominance and submission. The girl's whimpers grew quieter, replaced by the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the only sound in the silent alleyway. Sarada's breaths grew ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus on anything other than the overwhelming pleasure that consumed her. But it was a futile effort. The feeling was too intense, too all-encompassing. It was as if the very essence of her being was concentrated in that one moment, in that one act.

The pleasure grew, coiling in her stomach like a serpent preparing to strike. Each time she entered the girl, she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her body, setting her nerves alight. Her toes curled into the concrete, and she bit her lower lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape her throat. She didn't want the girl to know how much she enjoyed this, didn't want her to think that Sarada was some kind of monster. But the girl's body responded to her, almost as if it knew what Sarada needed, almost as if it was eager to give it to her.

The girl's walls tightened around her, and Sarada felt the beginnings of her climax building. It was a feeling she had never experienced before, and she didn't know how to handle it. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shame, guilt, and a desperate hunger for more. The girl's breath hitched in her throat, and her body tensed, a silent plea for Sarada to stop. But Sarada couldn't. She was caught in the grip of the curse, and she had to see it through.

With a final, powerful thrust, she felt the dam within her break. A hot, thick wave of cum flooded the girl's insides, filling her up until she couldn't take anymore. It spilled out onto the ground, a testament to the brutal act that had just taken place. The alleyway echoed with the sound of Sarada's grunts and the wet, sticky evidence of their coupling. She felt a strange sense of relief and disgust, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure mixed with the horror of what she had done.

The girl beneath her went limp, her eyes glazed over with a mix of pain and defeat. Sarada pulled out, the sensation of emptiness a stark contrast to the fullness she had just felt. The alleyway was now a battleground of shadows and discarded innocence, the air thick with the scent of sex and fear. She looked down at the girl, whose name she didn't even know, feeling a twist of pity. Her body was a canvas of bruises and scratches, a silent story of the violation she had endured.

As Sarada stumbled away, her erection slowly began to wane, the engorged member retreating back into the safety of her own body, Sarada herself, trying to pull her skirt up to cover up her bottom half. The sticky warmth of the cum that had spilled from her was a constant reminder of the monstrous act she had committed. The pain of withdrawal was a dull ache, a physical reminder of the emotional turmoil that raged within her. The cock shrank, shrinking back down into a clit, the transformation a cruel twist of fate that seemed to mock her.

With trembling hands, Sarada peeled off her torn clothes, her eyes avoiding the mirror as she made her way to the shower. She didn't want to see the creature she had become, didn't want to acknowledge the part of her that had enjoyed the violence. The water was scalding hot, almost too much to bear, but she welcomed the pain. It was a penance for her sins, a cleansing fire that she hoped would wash away the stench of the alleyway and the girl's tears. She scrubbed at her skin with a ferocity that bordered on self-harm, trying to remove the invisible marks that the night had left upon her. It was said her father, Sasuke, was a murderer...and Sarada wouldn't dare say what that night made her.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've been practicing my writing style a lot via AO3; I was worried to change it up while in the mist of the story but I like the way the words flow now, much better than before, I think. Next chapter, November!