Chapter Text
What sets Honnouji Academy apart from other preparatory schools in Japan extends far past the draconian meritocracy embraced by its students. From the individual members of its student body to their hierarchical organization, almost everything about it defies the norm in one manner or another.
What is strangest about the institution is not what one might imagine first, however. Uncannier than the super-powered uniforms donned by its students and their personalities are the goings on within the academy itself. In adherence to what Kiryuuin Satsuki defined as the ‘ideal form’ of private education, the high school-aged young women who attend the academy are made to do so with elementary school-aged boys as their counterparts–ostensibly speaking, of course. To facilitate this, teachers are tasked with delivering subject matter to two entirely different grade levels, and young-seeming boys are tasked with ‘acclimating’ to the reality of their older peers’ sexual development.
A rationale affirming the necessity of the age-group blend was never provided. More specifically, individuals with the oversight required to dictate terms to Satsuki were in such short supply that the task of doing so was rendered purposeless.
This aside, the day-to-day function of the academy is such that actively questioning the decision is made to seem unnecessary. Beyond the discontentment sowed by the academy’s brutality and its hierarchical system of winners and losers, both the boys and young women that constitute its student body perform about as well as they would have otherwise without any considerable losses in contentment. Some amongst the male population even report more comfort than usual for reasons that they were all too happy to inappropriately blurt out in public.
As a discerning individual might imagine, the academy’s stellar function is belied by a number of ‘questionable’ truths. Rather than exempting the entire male population of the academy from excellence on the basis of prepubescence, Satsuki showed no reservation in appointing the best of the best to serve as the primary members of her elite guard. Necessarily, this meant providing these boys with the strongest life-fiber uniforms that their bodies could withstand and integrating them into her management of the academy as a whole.
To her, there was nothing strange about any of this. So far as she was concerned, she was merely recognizing strength and excellence and properly utilizing it for the sake of her own goals; nothing more and nothing else.
In typical fashion for gifted and arrogant young women, Satsuki continued to view her decisions as ‘normal’ and ‘correct’ even after they spawned practices that no amount of explanation could attend to. In response to Matoi Ryuuko’s outing herself as a threat to the order that she had established, she welcomed Hakodate Omiko into the upper echelons of the school and even produced a custom-made 2-star uniform for her exclusive use. Although certain of her own ability to crush Ryuuko at a moment’s notice, handing the task down to a newly-appointed goku uniform seemed to her as the decision that would best serve her hierarchy.
It was not the only reason for her decision. Truth be told, it wasn’t even the foremost one–
This honor belonged to the tooth-chipping stimulation that she stood to enjoy each and every time she participated in the ‘commemoration ceremony’ for all female students successful in raising their ranks.
“HAKODATE OMIKO! Do not allow yourself to slacken–never willingly yield in the face of opposition no matter how superior it may seem!”
“It matters not if your opponents are fellow students or those that wish to sully the name of our academy! You must seek to overcome both and raise your rank as high as possible. I do not expect you to defeat three of my best so soon after your promotion, but I do expect you to fight! Now,”
“Arch that back and subjugate their phalluses with your insides. Consider their seed as a reservoir of strength that you must open up and plunder with your own two hands!”
At no point throughout her thunderous address did Satsuki consider its implications. Seated naked atop one of the innumerable thrones that were prepared for her on occasions like this, she dutifully attended to the sights and sounds produced as Omiko was skewered in all three of her holes by Uzu, Ira, and Hoka. Silent and ‘preoccupied’ up until this point, she followed up the delivery of her expectations by leaning back within her seat and resuming her fingers’ syrup-lubricated stir against and between the fat of her lower lips.
To her eye, the event offered a plethora of stimulation. After the unveiling of Omiko’s new uniform, she wasted no time in demanding that she peel her svelte frame out of the clothes she had worn into the area in preparation for the ‘commemoration ceremony’. Knowledgeable enough as to how matters were handled in the upper ranks of the school, Omiko regarded the flushed grins donned by the event’s onlookers as cues and stripped herself naked piece by piece.
For a high school girl, her trait set was impressive. Narrow and all too feminine shoulders bled down into a hip-line sharpened by her physical activity as a tennis player and the supple craftsmanship of her hormones. Though her midsection was toned and devoid of excess fat, meaty handfuls of breastflesh that exceeded the scale of sweet melons sloped away from her chest at a perky, wobble-prone height. More salient than either of these sites was the pert bubble of service-hewn buttocks flesh that she freed from underneath her panties. Each offered a toned volleyball’s worth of fat and muscle that perfectly complemented the width of her hips whilst still standing out to the eye.
Neither too excessive nor too pedestrian, her petite height and frame completed her presentation as one of Honnouji’s best.
Expectedly, these features combined for a visual experience that was capable of driving the average youth into a form of hormonal insanity. Owning just slightly more self-control than this, Uzu, Ira, and Hoka jumped at the ‘proposition’ of her naked body right as they finished tugging themselves out of the boy-sized make of their own uniforms.
Hoka was the first to get his hands on her hips. Measured in spite of his arousal, escaping from the restrictions of his uniform and exposing the juvenile cudgel of phallus flesh at his crotch remained just as easy as ever. Once naked, the sense of superiority that he maintained over those below him facilitated a shameless approach up to Omiko’s front, and an even more shameless tug at the flared fringes of her hips.
Whilst pulling her down toward the ground, his expectations for her flowed from his lips as another ‘cool’ command huffed out towards a subordinate.
“If you think I’m going to exert myself by baptizing a new recruit, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Climb on top of my crotch and take my cock inside you, maybe then I’ll consider providing you with a challenge befitting Satsuki-sama’s organization…”
The core of his address was very much like him. Arrogant and assured, yet in a manner that was very easy to swallow. Had his demands pertained to anything other than sloppy intercourse, Omiko would’ve followed them to the letter.
And she did–to a point. After Hoka laid himself flat on the ground, Omiko followed and assumed a position straddling his thighs. Here, a brief ascent onto the balls of her feet allowed her to set the naked plush of her lower lips up to a tantalizing hover just above the drooling nose of Hoka’s shaft. All that would’ve been required of her beyond this point was a squatting descent along his length and an enthusiastic ‘embrace’ of whatever effort Hoka saw fit to exert.
Contained in this approach was the possibility of her ascension being ‘pedestrian’. In other words, the possibility that the baptism planned for her might be reduced to another stepping stone in maintaining the order of the academy.
Succinctly, it was a possibility that Omiko was unwilling to accept–
At the peak of her squat, she plunged her crotch downward to take the full length of Hoka’s shaft into the choking warmth of her womanhood. As she did so, she fixated herself on the boyish cuteness his face maintained and pressed her left palm out to a flat impression against his chest. In doing so, hilting his glans near the core of her canal prompted a firm wiggle of her hips that saw pert buttocks fat nuzzled into his crotch.
Her aggression continued well beyond this point. Instead of allowing Hoka to begin thrusting himself through her twitching depths as planned, she took it upon herself to initiate a modest, *Plap…*-inducing bounce along his shaft all by herself.
Doing so was completely natural for her as well. To begin with, the prospect of engulfing all 8 inches of the wrist-fat cudgel Hoka had exposed at his crotch had warmed her depths in the first place. After the impression of its bloated veins against the meat of her folds and her ‘epiphany’ as to how to make her participation better, proactivity was made to seem more and more like her only real option.
Once started, she couldn’t stop herself–
It felt too good for her to even think of it.
“Hihihi…there we go. I’ve done at least some of the work for you, senpai ♥ .” A fanged coo slithered through her lips to compete with the impacts of her rear against his crotch. “Please go ahead and use my body as you see fit. Move those cute little hips and keep making adorable faces like the one you made when you first spoke to me,”
“For Satsuki-sama, I’ll embrace them all ♥ .”
Displays of dedication like this were comically effective on Hoka. Assessed fairly, though, they would have been effective on any boy as riddled with hormones as he was. Nevertheless programmed to take the up-and-down grind of sodden cuntflesh against his length as an invitation, the first few seconds of Omiko’s bounce snapped his palms up to the curvature of her hips and pressed his crotch upwards with enough force to drop her from her haughty squat into position hunched over along his front.
The pleasure induced from his first thrust lit a fire in his brain that turned the debilitation on his face into a confident smirk. Neither the novelty of having his erection sandwiched by congested inner walls nor the draining bliss of pulling himself back through her depths could keep its flames from spreading to his tongue–
It was a change of pace for Hoka, but an understandable one given the quality of the girl on top of him.
“...Confident, a-are we?” He exhaled, voice choked by pleasure. “I’ll just have to show you the difference in our class!”
Straight after his declaration came the ‘exertion’ he had promised. With Omiko’s front slumped closer to his chest, Hoka showed no reservation in leveraging his abnormal strength to repeatedly slot the bulk of his erection up and down through her depths. A sustained engagement of his abdominals pulled his lower back out of contact with the ground, and in turn created the ‘path’ that every subsequent hilt he produced would follow.
His strokes were not the juvenile pummeling of a boy smitten with the first hole to ever engulf his shaft. At all times, he maintained a sickle-shaped curve for strokes that ultimately pulled his drooping testicles into flogging impacts with the face of Omiko’s buttocks. Specifically, he abandoned a simple, up-and-down jackhammering of her folds for an intentional excavation of their depths along an angle meant to cripple the blonde with stimulation.
He did not need to abandon speed in following this approach, either. Within a half dozen of these curved strokes, Hoka jumped up to a pace that made pancaking compression an all-too-common sight at Omiko’s rear. By sustaining it, his sac was drawn up into repeated wrecking-ball flogs against the same flesh that he compressed, and a perverse mixture of *PLAPP* and *FLORP* noises consumed the air of the audience room.
Combining speed and execution like this provided Omiko with little recourse. Her fanged smirk melted into lip arrangements that could only coo and pant in no time at all. Soon enough, the palm she had pressed into his chest slipped off of it into an idle dangle by her side as well.
What was crippling stimulation for Omiko was raw motivation for Hoka. There could be no denying that the teenage tautness of her folds was potent. To this point, every impression of his erection through her lower lips had squeezed sizeable blobs of precum up alongside it. Barely a pair of minutes had passed since his thrusts had begun in earnest, but the rhythmic clenches produced by her inner walls and the perpetual outflow of honeyed feminine lubricant had already put thoughts of an orgasm into the back of his head.
Instead of fixating on these things as a man desperate to splatter his seed inside of a woman, he regarded them as a boy intent on clearing any challenge set in front of him.
The only way to overcome what Omiko had confronted him with was through consistency. No matter how her folds seized against his member or how his own meat convulsed in response to it, his stroking pattern went unchanged. Not even breathy groans of stimulation from his muse were enough to stymie him; until she broke down into an orgasm, nothing would be.
At a glance, it appeared as though Hoka had been consumed by hubris. No time was taken to consider the possibility of Omiko acclimating to her straits given a few minutes spent bouncing on his crotch. If he did not orgasm before this point, the proactivity that she’d inject beyond it almost guaranteed that he’d be overcome by the older girl’s body and the hidden depths of her libido.
In truth, though, proceedings had yet to exceed the breadth of his calculations. As things stood, the odds of Omiko punishing him for going all out were slim to none–
He was not the only one that she had to focus on, after all.
“IF SATSUKI-SAMA WILLS IT, I, TOO, SHALL PARTICIPATE!”
“PREPARE TO PROSTRATE YOURSELF, HAKODATE OMIKO!”
Bellowing as deeply as a developing youth could bellow, a naked Gamagoori Ira injected himself into proceedings within minutes of Hoka’s settling into a proper thrusting pattern.
Like his blue-haired peer, the pangs of his libido were moderated by a degree of youthful inexperience. Seeing Omiko take Hoka’s length inside of her and the tug of war that ensued between them proved arousing enough to glue his feet at the periphery of their coupling. No matter how his erection ached or drooled, this pleasure allowed him to stand and observe Hoka’s attempt at conquest until it became apparent that the two of them had reached a stalemate.
Per Satsuki’s demands for proceedings, this could not be allowed to last. As such, he used the first opening presented to him to stride up to a position where he could exert his will over Omiko’s supple frame.
Hoka’s pummeling of her womanhood made her rear too hard for him to resist. To cope with the demands of her position, Omiko had arced her back in a way that made the pert, milky-white flesh of her cheeks that much more prominent. From Ira’s perspective, all that was required for him to make the most of it was one of the feats of strength that he had become known for in his tenure as a 3-star uniform.
Without warning, he squeezed his palms into open space at Omiko’s hips and hiked her rear upwards. Not high enough to interrupt Hoka’s upward strokes, but enough to motivate her back into a squat supported by the balls of her feet. At this height, a half-depth squat delivered his crotch–and the brown-shaded spire of phallus flesh that protruded from it–precisely where he needed it to be.
The organ in question was impressive to see attached to a boy’s frame. Comparable to the 9-inch baton that Hoka had sported and yet very clearly congested by additional blood vessels, its make was not typical for the average male student at Honnouji. Of course, if one were to consider the modest bulk of owners’ juvenile musculature, the contrast that it offered was likely to seem more ‘reasonable’.
No less a boy for the unique state of his frame, presentation with his goal resulted in his rushing. Without any sort of warning (or much-needed angling for his crotch and erection), Ira slotted his hips forward and attacked the taut pink flesh of Omiko’s sphincter with his glans. Though his first blow missed the mark, the sweltering heat that emanated from her depths served as a guide for the rapid-fire stroke series that followed.
Ever the over-achiever, Ira found success within three plunges: a glans-to-crotch impression of turgid cockflesh into the borderline virginal guts of his blonde muse.
An invasive effort, but one that he was more than willing to subject himself to.
*SQLRSSHHHH~SSSH ♥ !*
“NNnhiii!!!??”
“Hot ♥ ! Hot hot hot! Ira-sama’s cock is inside me now, too!”
“Du-Don’t worry, S-Satsuki-sama. I-I’ll accept them both. I-I’ll ugghuuu s-show you my true value by draining t-them both at once!”
Omiko’s response to penetration was not entirely her own. Having an entirely different source of stimulus rudely squeezed into her rear while her cunt was blended by the spirited youth below her was not the easiest experience for her to manage. Unlike some of the more prodigious students of the academy, her talent had limits. Obscene limits, but those firmly defined by both her frame and the mind that supported it.
The trouble was her psyche. Made to feel invincible by her selection for a new 2-star uniform, Omiko had become of the opinion that there was nothing about her baptism that she couldn’t handle. Thus was born the arrogant mania that slipped through her lips, and the smirking debilitation that spread over her face as she was filled in both of her holes.
Ira’s purpose–or what he believed it to be–was to put her into her place.
So far as he was concerned, the only way for him to approach this was an attempt at complete physical subjugation. It did not matter that he was considerably shorter than Omiko, or that her sexual prowess had proved a significant threat to one of his peers.
As the shield of Kiryuuin Satsuki, he needed only charge forward and plow through all those set in his path.
“Ghhh..”
“Your confidence is commendable, Omiko! However, Satsuki-sama has charged us with your baptism! A result that does not see you basted with our seed and reduced to exhaustion is utterly unacceptable for us. If you wish to achieve your goals, you’ll first need to withstand my assault,”
“I WILL HOLD NOTHING BACK!”
Particularly studious in language class, Ira continued to defy the boyish qualities of his voice with utterances that even some of his older peers would have struggled to understand.
As it turned out, though, his sexual prowess dwarfed even this. Not even a minute after subjecting the entirety of his shaft to the embrace of Omiko’s guts, Ira abandoned her hips and sought out a stroking brace all his own. By reflex, both of his palms found the midsections of the blonde twin tails that extended from either side of her skull.
Experience had taught him everything he needed to know about producing leverage with a young woman’s hair. Visualizing the hair folded into his palms as a pair of reins, he wrenched both of his arms backwards to drag the upper fringes of Omiko’s rear into an even tighter impression against his crotch.
Then, and only then, did he begin reeling his erection back through the grasp of her inner walls for his second stroke. Dogged by congested flesh and defensive convulsions all throughout, the stimulation that rippled through his length and up his spine demanded that he abbreviate his retraction with only half of his mast exposed to the open air.
Evidently, half was all that he needed. As soon as these inches were free from the suckling oppression of Omiko’s sphincter, Ira slammed his crotch inwards and delivered each one of them back inside of her to the tune of a firm *PLAPP!*. More thunderous than those produced by Hoka’s motions below him, those who had attended to proceedings thus far could not help but regard it as a declaration of intent from the toned boy who had produced it.
In the seconds that followed, Ira ‘made good’ on what he had declared:
Succinctly, then several times beyond what was expected of him.
*GLRSH–GRLSH–GLRSH–GLRSH–GLRSH*
“Ahhhhh–ouughh–hyuuu ♥♥ !”
“I-I’m getting blended up! A-Another little boy is beating up one of my holes ♥ !”
The first few strokes that Ira delivered into Omiko’s guts became a template for all those that followed. So as to not interfere with Hoka’s faster ministrations, Ira contented himself with curved strokes that clobbered the lower reaches of her guts with cockflesh each time he delivered one. To keep his own libido from flaring out of control, he compensated for his slower pace by sustaining the ‘hold’ he had applied to Omiko’s frame through her skull. Through it, every hilt that he produced demanded that he nuzzle the rigid cudgel at his crotch through an additional inch of congealed, phallus-draining meat.
Then and there, another inch was all that he needed. Whereas Hoka was required to combat starved clenches from her inner walls and the endless outflow of feminine lubrication from their flesh, he was made to face an orifice designed for constriction, blending, and compression. Right from his first stab, wadded blobs of precum were siphoned up through his urethra into basting splatters across the depths that he penetrated. Throughout the outward reel that followed, the lubricant greased his retreat whilst at the same making the experience hotter and wetter than it would’ve been otherwise. Finally, when his thrusting chain began in earnest, the orifice’s willingness to hold onto all of the sexual slop spewed into it turned all of his ministrations into an exercise of overcoming both gluey fluid and flesh.
What pleasure Ira derived from this circumstance was separate and apart from the virginal mewling of Omiko’s depths. Haughty though she may have appeared, the confines of her asshole were not quite as accustomed to swallowing cockflesh as her cunt. As a result, defensive coiling within her intestines choked the exterior of his erection at all times–a futile attempt at expelling an invader that served only to provide Ira with more stimulation.
Despite contending with all of these things and the reservoir of semen that they wadded at the root of his length, Ira refused to rest on his laurels. Like Hoka, he regarded the phallus-draining conditions he had slipped into as a challenge–as the wall that he needed to crash through for the sake of Satsuki’s organization.
Framing proceedings this way turned his steady chug towards an orgasm into repeated calls for action. The more stimulation he enjoyed, the harder and deeper he flogged his crotch into sweat-greased compressions against Omiko’s rear.
Already well beyond the limit of what she could withstand gracefully, this approach translated out to increases in the debilitation that Omiko displayed throughout her rutting.
To say that she had been graceful and unaffected up until this point was both inaccurate and disrespectful to the sweat-glazed youths responsible for baptizing her. From her penetration by Ira onward, the modest sheen of perspiration that her pale skin acquired became a visible peppering of streaks representative of her exertion. Long since robbed of the ability to face proceedings with one of her fanged smirks, the ‘o’-shaped looseness that attacked her lips was accented by streaks of drool to either side of her mouth.
Worst of all was the ‘arching’ that Ira forced on her frame with his palms. Having her twintails pulled backwards bent her neck back alongside them and exposed her muddled facial features far more than she’d have liked. This aside, it also tempted her spine into a basin-shaped bow-curve as a means of ‘compensation’. It didn’t soften the gut-fattening blows Ira delivered in the slightest; all that she earned from it was the creation of a buffer that was incapable of managing this in the first place. Nevertheless, her body invested itself in maintaining the slant so as to ‘do something’ about the ruthless pummeling of her innards.
With all other avenues of respite and recourse invoked, the intensification of Ira’s thrusts applied finishing touches to the bedlam that had consumed her frame.
For the first time since the beginning of her baptism, Omiko became utterly incoherent.
“Ahh, guhhh, iguuu iguu iguu iguu…”
“S’too m-much. M-My guts’re gettin’ pummelled' so much! Everything inside my tummy is so hot ♥ !”
“I’m s’horry Satsuki-sama. I-I may not be able to–”
It was completely understandable. Verbalizing her incapacity was what any young woman would have done under assault from such spirited youth.
Her body did not understand this, and never would. So far as it was concerned, speaking her fears aloud was no different from embracing them wholesale.
And to it, embrace equated to release.
* SPPPPLRSSSHHHH !!*
“O-Ooohuuu ghiiii~!”
Omiko’s desire to flawlessly overcome the straits of her baptism was not matched by the physical capacity that she required to do so. At her body’s limit for stimulation, a zigzagging convulsion was conducted from the corner of her womanhood up to the root of her brain. In response to it, the muscles of her frame descended into convulsion, and the confines of her inner walls snapped into desperate huddles against the cockflesh that had been pressed between them.
For her cunt, this much respite was not nearly enough recompense for what it had endured. The moment her folds clamped down on the scalding exterior of Hoka’s shaft, a different series of convulsions confined to the backmost reaches of her womanhood carried an explosive splatter of feminine lubrication out through her lower lips.
First and foremost, Hoka’s presence underneath provided a ‘surface’ for her syrup to streak against. Albeit briefly, streaks of it were drawn from the youth’s groin up as far as his lower abdominals. Almost directly in time with their creation, Ira’s closeness to her rear and the depth of his squat resulted in a modest volume of her squirt spraying backward onto his thighs and testicles.
When all was said and done, the substance had all but drenched the ‘core’ of the sandwich that the trio had formed with their bodies. A slovenly ‘meal’ if ever there was one.
No time was taken it savor it, however. Hardly an instant after their muse’s orgasm began, both boys resumed their thrusting patterns with renewed vigor.
It was difficult to blame them. Seeing Omiko’s sweat-moistened frame descend into a fit of twitching and groaning was a surefire sign that they would ultimately overcome the challenge that Satsuki had put before them. All that remained was doing so in a manner befitting their positions in her organizations.
They needed to humble Omiko–utterly and completely.
“C-Cute as you are, I hope you didn’t entertain any thoughts of winning me over with this body of yours. I’m afraid you have no choice but to accept our baptism without any further fussing,”
“I’ll simply do things by blowing my load inside you all on my own!”
Not to be outdone, Ira was the next to open his mouth to speak. He did so after the vehement ‘PLRP-PLAPP-PLRPP* produced as Hoka’s squirt-sodden crotch began rebounding against the pudge of Omiko’s groin, but he did so all the same…
Too slowly; as he did so many other things. In the time that he required to fill his lungs and part his lips, another had done so several times over.
Like his peers before him, he had simply opted to wait until his moment found him.
“Jeez! You two really went and did a number on her! There’s almost nothin’ left for me to do, y’know?”
“Ah well. It’s not gonna stop me from goin’ all out, though!”
Given the opportunity, Uzu would have selected one of Omiko’s cunt or rear as the place to bury the bloat of his erection. Somehow ‘outdone’ by his peers in terms of speed, their commandeering his first two choices (and their subsequent settlement into separate manipulations of her body) left him with no other choice but to observe proceedings for a few minutes in search of a place to inject himself.
Omiko’s mouth was always going to be the ‘slot’ that he selected. Ira had completely commandeered her rear and Hoka’s choice of position had put the space between her breasts off of the table. If he was to have any say in the manner in which he emptied himself within her, the moist embrace of her mouth and throat was the only logical choice left for him.
The opportunity that Hoka presented to him was too good to pass up. In time with the resumption of his thrusts, the slant of Omiko’s upper body rose by several inches. More accurately, the reappearance of pulsing bliss between her lower lips jolted the blonde back to full attention.
With her upright, parting his feet to either side of Hoka’s floored frame and aligning his crotch in front of her mouth put him in a prime position to begin satiating himself. So as to not ‘disrupt’ Ira’s grasp on her pigtails, he mushed the boy-sized width of her palms into flat compressions against her ears and held her skull in place before slamming his hips inward and driving the beginnings of his erection into the spittle-drenched warmth of her mouth.
At first, his approach to the stimulation that he had sought mirrored those taken by his peers. So as to deny Omiko time to acclimate to her new position, he went from wedging the beginning of his girth along her tongue to driving himself straight down to the root of his shaft. Once embedded, he tightened his grasp on her skull and rolled his hips for a moment to acclimate to the punishing tightness of her esophagus before reeling himself outwards with the same vehemence.
Flailing from Omiko’s tongue seasoned the novelty of her esophagus’ constriction such that a fresh load of sludge began brewing at his shaft almost immediately. Despite being caught off-guard by the sudden penetration of her lips, the intensity of her ‘usage’ by Uzu’s two peers predisposed her frame to the most ‘proactive’ response possible: this being a reflexive mixture of gulping and slurping against the invading phallus in an attempt at ‘subduing’ it. Wrought from this was an experience in no way inferior to the ones enjoyed by the men inside her other holes.
And yet, Uzu somehow became preoccupied mid-execution. After establishing a rhythm and settling into the draining stimulation that he drove up and down his length, both his gaze and vigor were drawn away from Omiko and up towards the woman who had petitioned for her rutting in the first place.
As it turned out, the patience that he had displayed in applying himself to the blonde’s skewering was not purely a product of prudence. If the rosy-cheeked longing that he directed out at his leader was any indication, even an older girl willing to shamelessly gargle against his shaft while he masturbated with her innards meant little in comparison to the object of his affection.
What affection he felt for Satsuki was not so extreme as to prevent him from following through with her wishes, of course. Initially ‘loosened’ by the gooey compression of Omiko’s lips, a brief period of staring slaked his thirst just enough for him to drag his full attention back to the matter at hand.
Behind a deep, crotch-depth stroke that left his crotch to plug her nostrils and his slop-sodden testicles against her chin, he donned one of his trademark smirks and did his utmost to imagine himself between the legs of his beloved. Omiko’s spittle became the overflowing syrup of her womanhood, and the defensive ripple of gulps that her esophagus pushed against his shaft’s veins became the loving embrace of her folds.
Framing his experience this way provided him with everything that he required to perform.
“Still holdin’ out, huh? You definitely got talent, that’s for sure!” He chuckled. “Satsuki-sama wouldn’t have chosen you if didn’t, but I think it’s about time we finish cutting you down to size,”
“Don’t say we didn’t warn ya!”
Heralded by Uzu’s declaration was the beginning of the end. Or at the very least, the first of several ‘ends’ that Omiko was meant to endure. From his deepest hilt yet, he jumped out into a piston-speed sprint that once again reduced her mouth and throat to a glorified masturbation toy for him. In recognition of the fact that he stood behind his peers in terms of progression, he accelerated the pace of his metronome such that his own chain of wet *PLORPs* began sounding out of her skull each time testicles were mushed against her chin.
Not to be outdone, his peers responded in kind. Already at the precipice of their own respective limits, both boys flung themselves into unsustainable increases in their stroking metronomes until the weight that had grown at their crotches demanded to be expelled.
At the first request placed by their loins, all three of them erupted–
Vigorously and without remorse.
“T-Take my seed!”
“SQUEEZE EVERYTHING OUT WHILE SATSUKI-SAMA’S WATCHING!”
“Gulp everything straight down into your stomach!”
Appropriately, the boys’ orgasms began in the order that they had started making use of Omiko’s body. For Hoka, one upward hook of his hips too many wedged his glans into its favorite pocket of quivering cuntflesh and demanded that he maintain his hilt whilst a torrent of congealed semen wormed its way to eruption out of his cocktip. With his crotch sandwiched against Omiko’s an audible *BLORP* sounded out right as his first thumb-length strand of slop made contact with the core of her womanhood–an expected circumstance given the volume of semen stockpiled for his orgasm, but a noteworthy one assessed on volume alone.
Everything considered, the outflow should have been deafening. As only so much space was set aside for its ‘consumption’, the cloudy thread of blubber contributed to a dense splatter pattern across the face of her cervix before coalescing into a canal-choking blob only inches removed from her womb. Albeit only for a split second, semen with a distinctly jellied consistency was compiled against it with a degree of force that would have put a shotgun blast to shame.
Appropriately, what the beginning of Hoka’s orgasm lacked was made up for in spades by the discharges that followed it. One after another, the youthful payload of wriggling swimmers he had stockpiled was deposited into Omiko’s cunt one overcooked noodle at a time. Each one comparable to the first in length and density, a handful of seconds sufficed to see the ‘unoccupied’ space of her inner walls streaked, smeared, and ultimately inundated by cockjuice.
Leeway with which to savor this experience was denied to Omiko right from the start. In the same span of seconds that Hoka’s release painted her womanhood, Ira flooded her rear such that her stomach was made to feel just as warm as her vaginal canal.
Her psyche simply had too much to contend with. With only congested gut flesh ahead of Ira’s glans, every blurt of semen that burst from the nose of his length after the first served to push the ‘warming’ of her insides deeper and deeper. What began as wadded ropes worming their way through the middle of a compressed sleeve began a ‘fattening’ of this sleeve with balmy sludge that begged to be put to use inside a more fertile orifice. Of course, as Ira’s body had no concept of what kind of hole it was attempting to inseminate, the flourishes of seed that wormed their way through his length remained as hearty (and noisy) as they would’ve been had plunged himself down to her womb.
Feeling these sensations at the same time dragged Omiko’s eyes up to the peaks of their sockets. An urge to shriek out in bliss overcame her as well; all at once and unbearably.
She did precisely this, too. Perhaps not to the extent she might have liked to, but thoroughly enough to make Uzu’s orgasm down her throat that much more pleasurable.
Uzu hadn’t stroked against the pressure and suction for as long as his peers, and to a point, he had yet to do so to the fullest extent of his abilities. Nevertheless, the sheer quality of Omiko’s depths had forced him into an orgasm–an early reward for an effort that he had yet to finish.
The vibration that she produced with her groaning was icing on the cake of his experience. With his length wedged down her throat, every glutted thread of nut that escaped it was spewed directly into the depths of her esophagus. With self-preservation as the organ’s foremost priority, Omiko was made to swallow against his erection each and every time the globs’ compaction against one another became too dense for her to manage. As combined with rumbling from her voicebox, Uzu was swiftly beset by a brand of stimulation that would have put a masturbation toy to shame. A dragging ‘buzz’ of slimy flesh up and down along every inch of his erection.
Succinctly, his orgasm was no less intoxicating than those enjoyed by his peers–hence why he was inspired to invest himself in the exact same behavior that they invested themselves into after the fact.
Not one of the trio abandoned their stroking efforts after the end of their orgasms. Buoyed by their youth and a boundless desire to ensure that they met their glorious leader’s expectations, the three-way pumping of Omiko’s holes began anew within seconds of their working the final few blobs of their loads out.
Consistency befitting the stars of their uniforms followed in short order. No attention was paid to Omiko’s squeals of dismay or the orgasms that they fucked out of her as they went, nor did they attempt to match her as the pacing of her reciprocation slowed.
They couldn’t. Riddled with hormones and too young to manage them, completely emptying themselves became the driving force behind every move that they made.
Omiko’s was useless throughout all of this. In the space of a few minutes, what remained of her desire to exceed the expectations set for her by Satsuki was shattered, and subsequently replaced by sexual euphoria. Participating in proceedings as anything other than the set of holes that the boys pumped themselves into became impossible, and she became happier for it.
Unbeknownst to her, though, slipping into this state rendered her more appealing to Satsuki’s eyes than she had been at any other point throughout her baptism.
Up until this point, Satsuki was more concerned with the bodies of her Elite 4 members and the manner in which they manhandled Omiko. Long since a young woman with an abnormal taste for tiny frames and shameless sexual efforts, every second that they spent attempting to break her down was spent by her toying with the folds between her legs or skewering them with two of her fingers.
The more shameless the boys became, the more aggressively she sought out pleasure for herself. As leaning forward on her throne and stared at proceedings as a deranged onlooker defied the standards she set for herself, honing in on the sights and sounds that they produced as masturbatory fuel was her only option. Never one for half-measures, the curling and rolling she produced with her wrist drew streaks of perspiration across the opposing slants of her face and filled the immediate area with vibrant *SCHLK*ing noises that some within the baptism area might’ve killed to hear.
This much was enough to get her somewhere. Not where she needed to be, but up to a high that she could work with.
Omiko’s defeat was exactly what she required to finish. At long last, the blonde became the centerpiece that the Satsuki longed for: a depraved form of fuel specially crafted for the source for the inner workings of her imagination.
By burning it, closing her eyes and slipping back into her throne allowed her to imagine Matoi Ryuuko in the exact same position that Omiko was–broken and defeated by the superiority of her Honnouji academy.
Merely imagining these things was enough to turn her tepid self-pleasure into a spirited fit of fingering. If long overdue, its vehemence fulfilled the purpose intended for the event in its entirety:
As Omiko and her suitors rounded the corner into their umpteenth orgasms, Satsuki strode gallantly into her first.
“One last time! We’ve got her right where we want her, so let’s finish off strong!”
“You guys don’t wanna disappoint Satsuki-sama either, do ya?”
Over time, being the last to join in on pummeling Omiko’s innards allowed for Uzu to become the most spirited of the boys present. Even after several orgasms split between her mouth and frame, his desire to spill seed inside her persisted.
No–his desire to spill his seed inside her while Satsuki watched had persisted. Omiko’s collapse under the weight of her umpteenth orgasm had forced him to resort to stroking himself to the sight of her quivering figure, but his efforts continued all the same.
The same was true of his peers. If far less focused on the act of emptying themselves, their mutual desire to act in Satsuki’s best interest kept them focused on the task at hand until their bodies expelled everything that they had to give.
Commitment to their purpose saw proceedings end in much the same way that had started. Reduced to a single target for three worn spires of cockflesh, coordinated groans from the boys heralded coincided with a final salvo of bloated nutstrands from each of them. One after another, pressurized splatter patterns and heavy threads of sludge were strewn out across the pale glow of Omiko’s flesh until discerning what was skin and what was seed became impossibly difficult.
As luck would have it, though, the only individual capable of making this distinction chose not to.
The orgasm that had consumed her psyche was too potent for her to even attempt it.