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By now, we’ve passed it between our hands so many times that it’s gotten warm. Sticky almost, from our perspiration as we fought over it. Shiori really isn’t especially strong — she never has been to be fair — so I’ve had to act like I’m playing with a child, always keeping my real strength in reserve for the moment she chooses to piss me off.
“Hazuki! S-Sendai-san!” Shiori jibbers as she tries to ply the plastic out of my grasp. As well as stronger, I’m taller than her. If I wanted to be mean, I could just hold the thing out of her reach, and cackle as she jumped for it. Years ago, I’m sure I would’ve loved watching Shiori be this pathetic, but now that we gladly use eachother’s first names devoid of any honorifics, watching Shiori try to scrabble up my arm with teary eyes and reddened cheeks is just a bit depressing. It’s devoid of any of that domineering gait or powerful rush . Shiori Miyagi, as short and weak as she is, has the passcode to my heart.
“Secret word!” However, I’m not above a little teasing. I thrust the toy further into the air and snicker as Shiori’s expression loses any sense of hope. “Secret word, Shiori!” I remind her that this can all be over, if she just says please . The word has always been anathema to her, and I doubt she’ll kick that habit any time soon. Shiori would sooner just jump to her knees and give me five-thousand yen than say please , as easy as it’d be. She’d sooner bite me , like we were high-schoolers again.
“It’s my turn, though!” Shiori mewls, giving up the ghost and sinking into herself. She can look ever so grumpy, if she wants. She curls up, and even naked it looks like she’s all folded away. The thought is unbearably cute, but it won’t get me to surrender. I know what Shiori is like when she gets her way, especially in bed.
There’s only one position Shiori likes. “Nope. It’s always your turn.” If I handed her the strap, she’d just do what she always does, and lie down. She’ll fasten it around her hips, lie down, and wait for me to do all the work — business as usual. “If Shiori- chan wants it, she’ll have to say please.” I knock her across the face with the honorific; she’s always hated chan , but I don’t intend to stop using it for moments like this, when she’s acting beyond childish. I’m sick of staring at her listless, almost lifeless expression as she lies there, as if she’s bored of sex. I’m sick of watching her orgasm come to its conclusion, and then having to finish myself off after she decides it’s over
“I—,” Shiori begins, pistoning out of her curled-up state and trying to come face-to-face with a girl who’s nearly a foot taller than her. As she does her best to seem intimidating, our bodies collide and I’m given a good idea of just how un-intimidating this brat is. A year ago, she was a spindly little worm of a girl, but now that’s all over; laying about has atrophied Shiori’s muscles completely, and her awful diet has gone and made her chubby. I gave her a few chances to fix her ways, as I always do, but she turned them all down. Even with her underwear on their last legs. It’s nearly fortunate that she isn’t wearing any right now, or we’d both be more than aware of just how little those small-sizes fit. There’s a quiet moment where we both realise this, as Shiori’s little tummy bobs against mine. Nonetheless, she goes for broke. “I order you to give it to me!”
“ Oh ?” I snicker, having to restrain myself from full-on grinning. It’s an order , now; and such a poorly worded one at that. If The Monkey’s Paw was here, it’d be spasming. It isn’t, but I am, and I plan on making full use of Shiori’s poor use of words. Her wish is my command, after all. Wasn’t that what we agreed on, five or so years ago?
Shiori just squeaks. As soon as it’s spoken, she knows she’s made a mistake. My own telltale smirking is enough for Shiori to know she’s in for a storm, but she has no idea just how much of it. “Eh…?” She whimpers, and then she’s gone . Like a sack of potatoes, I toss her body onto the bed with a fraction of my strength.
A few things cross my mind as I finally lower the strap, along with its belted-and-buckled fashionings. I could take the extra-sarcastic route, and whisper Shiori’s own order back to her; oh, I’ll give it to you alright . The image stinks of a sickly-sweetness, and I toss it aside as easily as I did with Miyagi’s adorable little body.
Perhaps I could be loving and adoring. Play right into Shiori’s superiority complex, and try to teach her the error of her ways. Maybe I could just be silent, and punish this pathetic brat for thinking she could buy me out. Either way, she’ll get what’s coming to her — even if she’ll only understand if it’s delivered on the tip of a belt-buckle.
I pull the strap tight around my hips, laughing for a moment as I recall just how slim I am, compared to Shiori. As an actual participant in society, I’m a well-trained, properly-adjusted seductress who anyone would pay to have. Shiori Miyagi, however, got there first. Sitting a few inches above the strap’s belt is my belly-button. It’s tight and clean, and compared to Shiori’s flabby, squashed navel it looks like an oasis. As the reverse-end of the strap slips inside of me, my own belly swells outwards a bit. It’s heavy, thick and unrelentingly large; it won’t let me forget about it, even if I try. The best part, however, is that the other end is bigger. I gasp, wheezing against the weight of the strap, and lean into Shiori’s back, clutching her a little as my legs tense up.
“G-Gentle…” Shiori knows she’s lost, well and truly. She’s not making orders, or demanding proper treatment. She’s just getting ready , burrowing into a pillow as if it could protect her in the slightest. She’s a hapless little rodent, regretting having ever popped out of her hidey-hole. “Gentle, please .” Oh . There it is, now. When faced with forty-nine kilos of Sendai Hazuki and an XL-sized strap, she can say please and sorry. Only once it’s too late.
Gripping the girl’s shoulder, I press her down, and make sure to check she’s properly lubricated; even in the throes of a bad mood, I know I’m not here to actually hurt her, as much as I might want to sometimes. I swipe a pair of fingers between her legs, and they come away oh-so slick. Shiori’s gotten so excited, just from a bit of playfighting. The thought makes me chuckle to myself, as I’m reminded thoroughly, that Shiori shall be enjoying this, on some level. “Shiori… Traffic lights?” I test, whispering into her ear as I rub against her neck. She always makes me do this, and whilst it’s horribly embarrassing — to admit that she’s turned me on — I can tell just how important it is.
“G-Green.” Shiori mewls, and I can hardly hear it through the pillow she’s waterboarding herself with. “Green.” She repeats, trying to appear put together, and failing miserably as she turns back about and sobs into the pillow when I accidentally bob the strap’s head against her inner thigh. She’s terrified of the same thing she’s done to me so many times.
Unable to fight the grin growing across my face, I roll my hips back and prime myself for what’s about to come. I have to bite my lip to not giggle affectedly as Shiori’s whinging and whining meets my ears. I thrust , finally, and Shiori seems to gag as if the massive thing has made its way all the way up her throat. Her entire body tenses, and begins to sweat in torrents. I almost slip on it as I try to make my second run at her ass.
“ Hnn … Ahhnn …!” Shiori sobs and squeals, each smack of my hips throwing her face so far into the pillow she’s clutching onto that her tears begin to seep through the whole thing. “Ha-Ha-Hazu-Ki!” She garbles, every syllable of my own name ruined by her tongue-lolling, brain-scrambling ecstasy.
Having finally gotten into the rhythm of it — of annihilating Shiori Miyagi — I let myself roll back, until I’m facing up and able to pant, free of Shiori’s own keening. It’s not easy , doing all the hard work, but it’s worth it. I can look down, and see the shaking, shivering column of Shiori’s body buck and writhe as I press her into her pillow. One of my hands lifts off of her hip, and slaps her stomach. It jiggles and wobbles, in time with my thrusts. God, she’s fat. She’s developing love-handles, and her butt is so soft that it’s making this a great deal easier. I don’t tell her that, though. I just look down, and nod as I see every follicle of flab wobble back and forth. My own hips, as wide as they are, look tiny in comparison to the size of her butt; in our last few months of school, she actually needed a larger size of skirt — something I couldn’t ever fit into. If I even mentioned it, Shiori would chew me out and make me follow a payment-free order. Right now I’m in charge, but I’m not a cruel mistress. Shiori is just a little fluffy. We’ll settle on that.
“A-Amberr…!” Shiori manages to scream it out between spasms and thrusts, and I can see just how hard I’m pushing her. Shiori’s face is tense, so much so that it looks like it’s tearing itself apart. Tears are flooding her cheeks, and those thick locks she’s so proud of are growing matted and straggled. “Amber, Hashuki!” She drools as her legs twitch inwards, the flesh there clapping together harmlessly. Shiori’s carefully-crafted grumpy expression is falling apart, being gobbled up by a delicious orgasm, and torn up by the sensation of finally just taking it . Her eyes are rolling up, and she’s beginning to smile. If I took a picture of this, I’m sure I could blackmail Shiori with it for the rest of our lives.
Hearing her scream is what finally pushes me over the edge. My instincts take hold, and my hips go into overdrive. With each press, the pitch of Shiori’s howling grows. The sound of that desperate, dry-heaving drone is what’s powering me, right now. As Shiori’s throat goes raw, I push one last time, and feel the plastic inside of me smack against its own limits. I’m sure Shiori is feeling the exact same, too — if she can even handle that much. If it hasn’t all just bled into a formless mass of pleasure, by now.
Either way, she’s full-on crying by the time she cums. My orgasm forces me to make a few more rough, reckless thrusts, and before long the strap is so slick that it’s sliding in and out and in and out of Shiori without a second’s thought. The bed rocks underneath us, and it’s creaking almost meets the same pitch as Shiori’s petulance.
She’s a few seconds faster than me, as usual, but as a post-coital exhaustion grabs me by the shoulders and tosses me onto the bed, I can’t help but admit the truth; I’m absolutely satisfied. With wide eyes and deep wheezes, I look up at the strap as it sits in the open-air, dragged straight out of Shiori with all the force of a sack of bricks. It’s soaking , with my own and her cum dappled together on its almost shiny surface.
“A-A-A,” Shiori begins, her voice breaking as she struggles to separate her face from the pillow. “Again-st the r-r-rules.” She insists, her back still jerking back and forth as if she’s unable to handle what’s just been done to her. “D-Definitely.”