Velvet wasn't going to kill him, which meant Valentino could finally breathe again.
The grimoire pulsed warm against his chest as he soared through this dimension's night sky, wings cutting through air that smelled cleaner than Hell's sulfur-thick atmosphere. Below him, traditional Japanese architecture stretched across rolling hills and dense forest.
It was time for more talent hunting. The demand was up and now, with Velvet's rage reduced to amused mockery after seeing him get his ass handed to him by a giant bat...
Valentino's ribs still ached when he breathed too deep. The healers in Hell had patched him up—set his wing joint, sealed the tears in his membrane, fixed his cracked jaw—but the phantom pain lingered like a reminder. That caped psycho had nearly killed him. Would have killed him if Valentino hadn't been able to portal out.
His wings beat steadily—fully healed now, no pain—carrying him over a small town that had already settled into sleep for the night.
There. Movement in a courtyard below.
Valentino descended in a slow spiral, keeping to the shadows. The courtyard belonged to some kind of estate—traditional architecture with a main building and several smaller structures arranged around a central garden. Lanterns cast pools of golden light across carefully maintained paths, and the sound of running water suggested a fountain or stream somewhere nearby.
A woman moved through the garden with fluid grace. Even from above, Valentino could make out distinctive features—hair that shifted from pink to lime green in three thick braids, a figure that would make demons weep with envy. She wore what looked like a uniform—some kind of traditional outfit with a short skirt that showed off legs that went on forever.
The grimoire pulsed harder. Yes. This one.
Valentino landed silently on the roof of the main building, his heels finding purchase on curved tiles. He crouched there, wings folded tight against his back, and watched her move through the garden below. She was humming something—he could hear it drifting up through the still night air. A cheerful melody that matched the slight bounce in her step as she walked. He could see her face now as she turned toward one of the lanterns.
Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
Valentino's lungs filled slowly, deliberately. The night air carried hints of jasmine and cherry blossoms, making his antennae twitch with anticipation. He held the breath, letting his body convert it, feeling the familiar tingle as his hypnotic smoke began to form.
The woman bent down to trail her fingers through the pond water. Her braids fell forward over her shoulders, and even from this distance Valentino could make out the gentle smile on her face as she watched the koi scatter at her touch. Completely unaware. Completely vulnerable.
He exhaled.
Pink smoke poured from between his teeth in a concentrated stream. It moved with purpose, flowing down from the rooftop like liquid silk. The tendrils spread out as they descended, forming a cloud that drifted toward her with the night breeze. Silent. Invisible in the darkness except for that faint pink glow that could have been mistaken for lantern light.
The smoke reached her.
Valentino watched her shoulders stiffen—just for a moment, just that initial alarm response when something foreign touched her senses. Her head started to turn, those large green eyes beginning to widen as her body registered danger.
Then the hypnotic properties hit her system.
Her spine straightened slowly. The tension in her shoulders melted away into something loose and compliant. Her head stopped its turn, settling back to face forward as her eyes went glassy and distant. The hand that had been trailing through the pond water lifted, droplets falling from her fingers to disturb the koi below, and then hung suspended in the air like she'd forgotten what she'd been doing.
The smoke continued pouring from Valentino's mouth, wrapping around her face in thick tendrils that kept her locked in that docile state. He stood from his crouch, wings spreading as he dropped from the rooftop. The landing barely made a sound—just the soft click of his heels against stone pathway.
Up close, she was even more spectacular. The uniform clung to curves that made his cock harden instantly—full breasts straining against the fabric, a tiny waist that flared into hips that would look perfect gripping while he fucked her from behind. Her skin glowed in the lantern light, and those eyes—even glazed and empty—were striking. Large and bright green, framed by long lashes that any demon would kill for.
"Mírame," Valentino murmured, his voice low as he stepped directly in front of her. Look at me.
Her head tilted up automatically, those empty eyes focusing on his face without recognition. The smoke continued curling around her features.
Valentino's hand closed around her upper arm, his fingers pressing into soft flesh that yielded under his grip. The smoke continued pouring from his mouth in steady streams, wrapping around her face to keep her docile and compliant as he guided her toward the garden wall.
The grimoire pulsed hot against his chest. His free hand pulled the book from his coat, and the leather felt warm and eager under his palm as reality began to tear. The portal opened with that familiar shriek—purple and pink swirling together in a vortex that lit up the quiet garden.
He pulled her through.
Hell's sulfur-thick air hit his lungs, and Valentino breathed it in like the finest wine. The portal sealed behind them with a wet sound, leaving them standing in VVV Tower's private transportation room. The marble floor gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights, and the woman stood beside him—still glazed, still compliant, her braids hanging over her shoulders as she stared at nothing.
"Get her prepped," Valentino called out to the nearest assistant hovering by the door. Some imp demon whose name he'd never bothered learning. "Full treatment. I want her ready to shoot in three hours."
The imp scurried forward, taking the woman's other arm. She moved when guided, her feet following the imp's direction without resistance. Valentino watched them disappear through the doorway, then turned toward the elevator that would take him to his studio.
—————————————————————————————————————————————————
The studio buzzed with activity when Valentino strode in two and a half hours later. The cocaine sang through his system—sharp and electric, making every color brighter and every sound crisper. His crew moved around the set like ants, adjusting lights and repositioning cameras under his critical eye.
The set looked perfect. They'd built a traditional Japanese bedroom—tatami mats covering the floor, shoji screens creating intimate spaces, low furniture that would work beautifully for the angles he wanted. Soft lighting cast everything in warm amber tones that would make skin glow like honey.
"Where is she?" Valentino's voice cracked through the studio chatter. His fingers drummed against his thigh—restless energy that needed an outlet.
"Wardrobe is finishing up now, sir." The assistant's voice came from somewhere behind him. "They'll have her out in two minutes."
Valentino moved to his director's chair and dropped into it. The leather creaked under his weight, and he lit a cigarette with one of his four hands while the other three gestured at crew members to make final adjustments. The smoke curled up toward the ceiling, mixing with the studio's ventilation system.
The door opened, and Valentino's cigarette paused halfway to his lips.
She glided into the studio wearing a yukata that matched her distinctive hair perfectly—pink and lime green fabric arranged in traditional patterns that somehow looked modern on her body. The garment had been tailored to fit like sin itself, the fabric clinging to her breasts and hips before flowing loose around her legs. Her makeup was flawless—subtle enough to look natural but dramatic enough to catch every light. The braids had been arranged artfully over her shoulders, and her lips had been painted a soft coral that made Valentino's cock throb against his pants.
"Perfecto," he breathed, smoke curling from between his teeth.
She moved across the studio floor with that same fluid grace he'd observed in the garden, her feet bare against the polished concrete until she reached the tatami mats. The assistant guided her to sit, and she folded herself down onto one of the mats with practiced ease—knees together, hands resting in her lap, spine straight. The yukata pooled around her legs in elegant folds that the lighting crew had already positioned perfectly to catch.
Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
Valentino returned to his director's chair and settled in, his fingers already drumming against the armrest with anticipation. The cigarette dangled from his lips, smoke curling up past his eyes as he surveyed his kingdom of cameras and lights and soon-to-be-money.
"Everyone in position," he called out, his voice carrying that edge of manic energy that always preceded his best work. The crew froze, waiting for the command that would start everything.
Valentino's grin stretched wider across his face, sharp teeth glinting under the studio lights. His hand lifted, cigarette smoke trailing from his fingers as he pointed at the camera operator.
"ACTION!"
The door slid open with a soft whisper of wood against wood. Another woman entered, and Mitsuri's eyes tracked her as she moved into the room.
The newcomer wore a yukata of dark blue with the same elegant draping that adorn Mitsuri's. Her navy blue hair caught the light, those subtle teal gradients shifting as she moved with measured grace across the tatami mats. Her turquoise-blue eyes held an intensity that caught Mitsuri's attention.
She folded herself down onto the tatami mat directly across from Mitsuri, mirroring her position with practiced precision. Her knees pressed together, her hands rested in her lap, and her spine held that same perfect straightness that suggested years of training in traditional etiquette.
"Good evening, Mitsuri-san." The woman's voice carried warmth that somehow felt calculated, like each syllable had been measured before being spoken. "My name is Akane Kurokawa, and I'm here to help you with something very important."
Mitsuri blinked, her large green eyes focusing on the stranger's face. Her fingers twisted the edge of her yukata beneath the low table, knuckles whitening. She knew exactly why this woman was here—what would happen next— but the commanding tone in Akane's voice made her pulse quicken anyway. She found herself leaning forward, throat suddenly dry in anticipation.
Akane's lips curved into a smile that reached her turquoise eyes. "I'm your new matchmaker, Mitsuri-san. I've been observing your situation, and I believe I can help you find exactly what you've been searching for."
The word "matchmaker" sent a jolt through Mitsuri's chest. Her breath caught, and she felt heat flooding her cheeks as hope bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. "A matchmaker? Really?" Her voice climbed higher with excitement. "You mean—you can help me find a husband?"
"That's exactly what I mean." Akane's hands shifted in her lap, adjusting the folds of her dark yukata with deliberate movements. "I understand you've had some difficulties in the past."
Mitsuri's shoulders slumped forward as embarrassment washed through her. The memories surfaced unbidden—all those failed matchmaking meetings, all those men who'd looked at her with interest that turned to discomfort when they learned about her strength, her appetite, her unusual hair color. The last one had actually laughed when she'd accidentally bent a metal spoon while eating nervously.
"Yes," Mitsuri admitted, her voice dropping to something quieter. "It's been... challenging. Men don't seem to like women who are stronger than them. Or who eat more than them. Or who look different."
"Those men were fools." Akane's words cut through Mitsuri's spiral of self-doubt with absolute certainty. "But I have access to candidates who will appreciate everything about you. Your strength. Your appearance. Your enthusiasm."
The hope flared brighter in Mitsuri's chest, making her heart beat faster against her ribs. "Really? You really think so?"
"I know so." Akane leaned forward slightly, and the movement made her yukata shift across her shoulders. "We have many excellent candidates waiting to meet you. But first, there's something we need to do."
Mitsuri watched as Akane reached into the folds of her yukata and pulled out a strip of dark fabric—silk, from the way it caught the light. The material pooled in Akane's palm, and Mitsuri's eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"A blindfold?" The question came out uncertain. "I don't understand. Why would I need to wear a blindfold to meet potential husbands?"
Akane's turquoise eyes held Mitsuri's gaze with an intensity that made something flutter in her stomach. "Because, Mitsuri-san, you need to pick with your heart, not with your mind. If you see them first, you'll start analyzing—their appearance, their clothing, their status. All those surface details that have nothing to do with true compatibility."
The explanation made sense in a way that Mitsuri's mind struggled to fully grasp, but the logic felt sound enough. She'd spent so many matchmaking meetings focused on making herself appear acceptable that she'd never really paid attention to whether the men felt right.
"Pick with my heart," Mitsuri repeated, testing the words. Her fingers twisted tighter together in her lap. "Not with my mind."
"Exactly." Akane extended the silk fabric toward her, holding it out across the space between them. "Trust me, Mitsuri-san. This is how we find your perfect match."
Mitsuri stared at the blindfold. The dark silk seemed to absorb the warm amber lighting, making it look almost liquid in Akane's hands. Her heart hammered against her ribs—part nervousness, part excitement that made her skin feel too tight.
"Okay," Mitsuri breathed, and reached for the blindfold. Her fingers closed around the silk—soft and cool against her skin. "I'll do it. I'll pick with my heart."
She lifted the fabric to her face, feeling it settle across her eyes. The world disappeared into darkness, and Mitsuri's other senses sharpened immediately. She could hear the rustle of Akane's yukata as the woman shifted position. Could smell the faint scent of jasmine that clung to the fabric of her own clothing. Could feel the slight draft from somewhere in the room brushing against her exposed neck.
Akane's hands touched hers—cool fingers guiding her grip to the ends of the blindfold. "Let me help you tie it properly."
The silk tightened around Mitsuri's head as Akane worked the knot at the back. Not uncomfortable, but secure enough that no light leaked through the edges. Mitsuri's breath came faster, her chest rising and falling beneath her yukata as anticipation built in her stomach.
Akane's fingers finished securing the knot, and she stepped back to examine her handiwork. The silk sat perfectly across Mitsuri's eyes, blocking out all light. Mitsuri's hands moved to touch the fabric, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the edges.
"Can you see anything?" Akane asked, her voice maintaining that warm, professional tone.
"No, nothing at all," Mitsuri said, shaking her head. The braids swayed with the movement, lime green tips brushing against her shoulders.
"Perfect." Akane turned toward the shoji screen door and clapped her hands twice. The sharp sound echoed through the quiet room.
The door slid open with a soft whisper. Five men entered in a line, their footsteps heavy against the tatami mats. Each wore traditional Japanese clothing—loose hakama and haori that hung on their bodies in layers of fabric. Their ages showed in the grey threading through their hair and the deep lines carved into their faces. Their bodies carried weight that pressed against the fabric of their clothing, making the traditional garments strain at the seams.
They arranged themselves in a semicircle around Mitsuri, who remained kneeling with her hands folded in her lap. Her head tilted slightly, following the sound of their movement.
"Mitsuri-san," Akane's voice carried that same warm authority from before. "I've brought five excellent candidates for you to meet. They're all very eager to find a wife, and I think you'll find them quite... compatible."
"Five?" Mitsuri's voice climbed with excitement. "That many? Oh, that's wonderful! I can't wait to meet them!"
Akane's lips curved upward as she watched Mitsuri's cheeks flush pink. "But before formal introductions, we need to conduct some compatibility tests. To ensure we find the perfect match for you."
"Compatibility tests?" Mitsuri's hands twisted together in her lap. "What kind of tests?"
"Simple ones. Nothing to worry about." Akane's fingers moved to gesture at the men, a silent command that had them reaching for their clothing. "Just some basic physical compatibility assessments. Standard procedure for all my matchmaking services."
"Oh!" Mitsuri's shoulders relaxed. "That makes sense. I've never had a matchmaker before, so I wasn't sure what to expect."
The men worked at their hakama, the fabric rustling as they loosened ties and pushed the material down their thighs. Their cocks emerged—thick and already hard, jutting forward from the nest of grey-threaded hair at their groins. The five shafts varied in exact dimensions, but all shared a similar quality of age and use. Veins stood out along the lengths, and the heads gleamed with moisture that caught the amber lighting.
Akane's expression shifted. The warm, professional smile remained on her lips, but something else entered her turquoise eyes—something sharp and predatory that transformed her entire demeanor. Her fingers traced along the arm of the nearest man, guiding him to step closer to where Mitsuri knelt blindfolded and waiting.
"The first test is very simple," Akane said, her voice maintaining that same measured warmth despite the darkness now visible in her eyes. "Each candidate is going to bring their face close to yours. All you need to do is lean forward and give them a gentle kiss on the check. Just to get a feel for them."
"A kiss?" Mitsuri's hands flew to her mouth, and even through the blindfold her embarrassment showed in the deepening flush spreading down her neck. "That seems very forward for a first meeting!"
"It's completely normal for compatibility testing," Akane assured her. "Trust me, Mitsuri-san. This is how we determine if there's true chemistry between you and a potential husband."
"If you say so." Mitsuri lowered her hands back to her lap, straightening her spine. "I trust you, Akane-san. You're the expert."
"I am." Akane positioned the first man directly in front of Mitsuri, close enough that his cock hovered inches from her face. The thick shaft pointed straight at her lips, and a bead of precum formed at the tip before sliding down to hang suspended. "Are you ready?"
"Yes!" Mitsuri nodded enthusiastically. "I'm ready to meet my potential husband!"
"Good." Akane's hand rested on the man's hip, steadying him. "The first candidate is moving closer now. When you feel them near, just lean forward and press your lips gently against their cheek."
Mitsuri leaned forward, her lips parting slightly as she moved into the space in front of her. The man stepped closer—guided by Akane's hand on his hip—until the head of his cock brushed against Mitsuri's mouth.
Her lips made contact with the swollen flesh. She pressed forward gently, creating a soft kiss against the sensitive tip. The man's breath caught audibly, his hips jerking slightly before Akane's hand tightened on his hip to hold him steady.
"Very good," Akane said, her voice perfectly controlled. "You can pull back now."
Mitsuri withdrew, her brow furrowing slightly beneath the blindfold. "That felt... strange. His skin was very warm."
"Everyone's different," Akane said smoothly. She gestured for the second man to move forward, positioning him the same way she had the first. "Ready for the next candidate?"
"Yes!" Mitsuri's enthusiasm hadn't dimmed. She leaned forward again as the second man stepped closer.
His cock pressed against her lips, thicker than the first. Mitsuri kissed the head with the same gentle pressure, her mouth making a soft sound as flesh met flesh. This man groaned low in his throat, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
"Excellent," Akane murmured. "Next candidate."
The third man moved forward at Akane's gesture. His cock jutted toward Mitsuri's face as he positioned himself. Mitsuri leaned in without hesitation, her lips pressing against the swollen head in another gentle kiss. The man's breathing turned ragged, and Akane's fingers tightened on his shoulder to keep him from pushing forward.
"Moving to the fourth candidate now," Akane said. Her turquoise eyes tracked every movement as the next man stepped into position.
Mitsuri kissed the fourth cock with the same innocent enthusiasm she'd shown the previous three. Her lips made contact with the heated flesh, holding for a moment before pulling back. "They all feel so warm," she said, her voice carrying genuine curiosity. "Is that normal?"
"Perfectly normal." Akane guided the fifth and final man forward. "Last one."
The final man's cock pressed against Mitsuri's mouth, and she delivered the same soft kiss to the tip. He shuddered visibly, his hands clenching at his sides. Akane watched the precum leak from his slit, sliding down to where Mitsuri's lips had just been.
"Wonderful!" Mitsuri's hands clasped together in her lap. "I've met all five candidates now. What happens next?"
Akane's smile widened, that predatory gleam in her eyes intensifying. "The next test is a culinary compatibility assessment. Each candidate has prepared a special dish for you. They're going to place it in your mouth, and you'll have one minute with each dish to try to identify what it is. Without chewing—just use your tongue and suck on them to figure out what dish it is."
"Without chewing?" Mitsuri's head tilted. "That's an unusual way to taste food."
"It's the traditional method for this particular test," Akane said smoothly. "The flavors need time to bloom properly. You'll move from one candidate to the next, spending exactly one minute with each dish before rotating until you can name one dish. Can you do that?"
"Of course!" Mitsuri nodded enthusiastically. "I love food, and I'm very good at identifying flavors! This sounds like fun!"
"Excellent." Akane gestured for the first man to step forward again. His cock stood rigid, precum dripping steadily from the tip. "First candidate, please present your dish."
The man moved closer, positioning himself directly in front of Mitsuri's blindfolded face. Akane's hand guided his hip, angling him so the head of his cock pressed against Mitsuri's closed lips.
"Open your mouth, Mitsuri-san," Akane instructed. "Remember—no chewing. Just use your tongue and suck let the flavors come to you."
Mitsuri's lips parted obediently. The man's cock slid between them, the thick shaft pushing across her tongue until several inches filled her mouth. Her expression shifted—confusion flickering across her features beneath the blindfold. Her brow furrowed, and her hands lifted slightly from her lap before settling back down.
"One minute starts now," Akane said, watching the man's face contort with pleasure as Mitsuri's mouth closed around him.
The other four men had already started stroking their cocks. Their hands worked their shafts with practiced movements, eyes locked on Mitsuri's face as she knelt there with the first man's cock filling her mouth. Wet sounds filled the room—the slick slide of hands on flesh, the muffled breathing of the men as they watched.
Mitsuri's tongue moved experimentally around the shaft in her mouth, the muscle sliding along the underside. Her head tilted slightly, and her lips pressed tighter around the thickness stretching them. The man's breathing grew heavier, his hands clenching at his sides as Akane's fingers dug into his hip to keep him still.
"Try to identify the flavors," Akane said, her voice maintaining that warm, professional tone. "What do you taste?"
Mitsuri's brow furrowed deeper beneath the blindfold. Her tongue traced along the ridge where the head met the shaft, then circled the tip. A soft sound of confusion escaped her throat—muffled around the flesh filling her mouth.
Akane watched the four other men stroking themselves, their eyes locked on the scene. The wet sounds of their hands working their cocks mixed with Mitsuri's muffled breathing and the ragged pants of the man currently in her mouth.
"Thirty seconds left," Akane announced. Her turquoise eyes tracked every movement—the way Mitsuri's cheeks hollowed slightly as she tried to understand what filled her mouth, the way her lips stretched around the girth, the way her hands remained folded in her lap despite her obvious confusion.
The man's cock throbbed against Mitsuri's tongue. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing deeper until Mitsuri made a small gagging sound. Akane's grip tightened immediately, yanking him back.
"Almost time," Akane said. "Have you identified the dish yet?"
Mitsuri shook her head—a small movement that made the cock slide between her lips. Her hands lifted from her lap, fingers spreading in a gesture of uncertainty before settling back down.
"Time's up." Akane pulled the man backward by his hip. His cock slipped from between Mitsuri's lips with a wet sound, leaving them glistening with saliva and precum. "Next candidate."
The second man stepped forward immediately, his cock jutting toward Mitsuri's face. Akane positioned him the same way she had the first, her hand on his hip guiding his movements.
"Open your mouth again," Akane instructed. "Remember—one minute to identify the flavors."
Mitsuri's lips parted, and the second man's cock pushed inside. Thicker than the first, it stretched her mouth wider. Her expression showed the same confusion from before, her brow furrowing as her tongue explored the shaft filling her mouth.
The first man had joined the others, his hand already wrapped around his slick cock as he stroked himself. All five men stood in a semicircle now, four of them jerking off while watching Mitsuri kneel there with the fifth cock in her mouth.
"Use your tongue," Akane said, watching Mitsuri's lips work around the thick shaft. "Really explore it. The flavors need time to develop."
Mitsuri's head bobbed slightly—not intentionally, just following the natural movement as her tongue traced along the underside of the cock. The man groaned, his free hand coming up to grip his own thigh as sensation overwhelmed him.
"Forty seconds," Akane announced. Her fingers drummed against the man's hip, keeping rhythm. "Can you identify it yet?"
Another shake of Mitsuri's head. Her hands twisted together in her lap, and small sounds of effort escaped her throat as she tried to understand what she was tasting.
The man's breathing turned ragged. His cock swelled thicker in Mitsuri's mouth, and Akane felt his hip tense beneath her palm. She yanked him backward before he could finish, his shaft popping free from Mitsuri's lips.
"Next candidate," Akane said, already gesturing for the third man to step forward.
The rotation continued. Each man got his minute in Mitsuri's mouth while the others stroked themselves and watched. Mitsuri's confusion grew with each switch—her brow permanently furrowed beneath the blindfold, her lips glistening with the mixture of saliva and precum from five different cocks.
"I don't understand," Mitsuri said when the fourth man pulled free from her mouth. Her voice carried genuine distress. "They all taste similar but I can't identify the dish. It's salty and a little bitter, but I've never had anything quite like this before."
"Keep trying," Akane encouraged. "You're doing wonderfully. One more round should help clarify things."
The fifth man stepped forward again, his cock sliding between Mitsuri's lips. Her tongue worked with more purpose now, trying harder to understand what filled her mouth. The man's breathing turned harsh, his hands gripping his own thighs as sensation built.
Akane watched the others stroking faster. Their faces contorted with effort, and the wet sounds of their hands on their cocks grew louder. The first man's breathing had turned into desperate pants, his grip tightening around his shaft.
"Twenty seconds," Akane said, though she was watching the first man more than timing the one in Mitsuri's mouth.
The first man's body went rigid. His hand moved frantically, and his mouth opened in a silent groan as his orgasm hit. Thick ropes of cum erupted from his cock, arcing through the air to splatter across Mitsuri's cheek and jaw. The warm fluid clung to her skin, dripping down toward her neck.
Mitsuri jerked at the sensation, her mouth still full of the fifth man's cock. Her hands flew up toward her face, fingers brushing against the sticky substance coating her cheek.
"What—" The word came out muffled around the shaft. She tried to pull back, but Akane's hand moved to the back of her head, holding her in place.
"Don't stop now,"
Akane's hand pressed firmly against the back of Mitsuri's head, holding her in place as the fifth man's cock remained buried in her mouth. Her turquoise eyes tracked the cum dripping down Mitsuri's cheek with cold calculation.
"It's just some sauce falling from the food," Akane said, her voice maintaining that same warm, professional tone. "Keep going, Mitsuri-san. You're so close to identifying the dish."
Mitsuri's fingers hesitated at her cheek, touching the sticky fluid with obvious confusion. Her tongue continued working around the shaft filling her mouth—slower now, more uncertain.
The second man's breathing turned ragged. His hand moved frantically on his cock, and his body tensed as his orgasm approached. Akane watched his face contort, watched his hand squeeze the base of his shaft.
"Time's up," Akane said, pulling the fifth man backward by his hip. His cock slipped from Mitsuri's lips, leaving them swollen and glistening. "Keep going until you figure it out."
The second man stepped forward immediately, his cock jutting toward Mitsuri's face. Before Akane could position him, his body went rigid. Thick ropes of cum erupted from his shaft, splattering across Mitsuri's forehead and nose. The fluid dripped down the bridge of her nose toward her parted lips.
"Oh!" Mitsuri's hands flew up again, touching the new warmth coating her face. "There's more sauce! Is this part of the test?"
"Exactly," Akane said smoothly. She guided the third man forward, positioning his cock at Mitsuri's lips. "Open your mouth. You need to keep tasting to identify the dish properly."
Mitsuri's lips parted obediently, and the third man's shaft pushed inside. Her tongue worked around him while cum continued dripping down her face from the previous two men. Small sounds of confusion escaped her throat, muffled around the flesh filling her mouth.
The fourth man's hand moved faster on his cock. His breathing turned harsh, and his free hand gripped his own thigh as sensation built. Akane's eyes tracked his movements, calculating the timing.
Mitsuri's head bobbed slightly, her tongue tracing along the underside of the cock. The third man groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily before Akane's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
The fourth man's body tensed. His hand squeezed his shaft, and thick streams of cum erupted to splatter across Mitsuri's hair. The braids absorbed some of the fluid while the rest dripped down onto her shoulders, staining the pink and lime green fabric of her yukata.
"There's so much sauce," Mitsuri said when Akane pulled the third man back. Her voice carried genuine bewilderment. "I still can't identify what dish this is. It just so salty and meaty."
"One more round," Akane said, gesturing for the first man to step forward again. "You'll figure it out."
The rotation continued. Each man took his turn in Mitsuri's mouth while the others stroked themselves closer to completion. The third man finished across Mitsuri's chest, thick ropes of cum staining the front of her yukata. The fifth man painted her left cheek and jaw, adding to the mess already coating her face.
Mitsuri knelt there with her mouth open, waiting for the next cock, completely covered in cum that dripped from her hair, face, and clothing. Her hands remained folded in her lap despite the confusion clear in the set of her shoulders.
"I really can't identify it," Mitsuri said, her voice small and disappointed. "I'm sorry, Akane-san. I thought I was good at identifying flavors, but this dish is too difficult for me."
Akane's expression remained perfectly composed—not a flicker of the satisfaction curling through her chest visible on her features. Her hands folded together in front of her yukata as she regarded Mitsuri's cum-covered form with calculated disappointment.
"I see," Akane said, her voice carrying just the right note of regret. "That's unfortunate, Mitsuri-san. I had hoped you would perform better on this particular assessment."
Mitsuri's shoulders slumped forward, the movement making more cum drip from her braids onto her already-stained yukata. Her hands twisted together in her lap, and even beneath the blindfold her distress showed in the downturn of her lips.
"I'm sorry," Mitsuri said, her voice small. "I really tried my best. Does this mean I failed? That I can't find a husband?"
"No, no." Akane waved one hand dismissively. "This was just one test among many. We can move on to other compatibility assessments." Her turquoise eyes tracked the fluid coating Mitsuri's face and clothing. "But first, you'll need to change out of those clothes. They've gotten quite dirty from all that sauce."
"Oh!" Mitsuri's hands moved to touch the front of her yukata, fingers brushing against the cum-soaked fabric. "Yes, I suppose they are rather messy. I didn't realize the dish would be so... drippy."
"It happens." Akane gestured toward the shoji screen. "Don't worry about the men in the room. They'll leave now, and I'll have some women come in to help you change into fresh clothing."
Mitsuri's posture relaxed slightly, though her fingers still twisted in the stained fabric of her yukata. "That would be very kind. Thank you, Akane-san."
Akane turned toward the five men still standing in their semicircle, their cocks softening now that they'd all finished. She made a sharp gesture toward the door—a clear dismissal. The men moved immediately, their feet shuffling against the tatami mats as they adjusted their hakama back into place.
The sound of fabric rustling filled the room as they worked to make themselves presentable. Footsteps moved toward the shoji screen, and the door slid open with its characteristic whisper. More footsteps—the heavy tread of multiple people leaving—and then the door slid closed again with a soft thud.
Silence settled over the room.
Mitsuri's head tilted toward where the door had closed. "Have they all left?"
"Yes, they've gone." Akane's voice carried perfect reassurance. "The women will be here shortly to help you."
Mitsuri's hands moved to the ties of her yukata, fingers fumbling slightly with the knots. "Should I start undressing now, or wait for them?"
"You can start now," Akane said. "They're already here, actually. They came in very quietly while you were focused on the door closing."
"Oh!" Mitsuri's fingers paused on the ties. "I didn't hear them at all."
"Yes," Akane said smoothly. "They are very quite but that just makes them great handmaids."
The five men had indeed remained in the room, positioned exactly where they'd been before their theatrical shuffle toward the door. Their hakama hung loose around their hips, and their hands had already returned to their cocks—stroking slowly as they watched Mitsuri kneel there blindfolded and covered in their cum.
Mitsuri pulled at the ties of her yukata, working the knots free with trembling fingers. The fabric loosened around her body, and she shrugged her shoulders to let it slide down her arms. The garment pooled around her waist, exposing her upper body to the room.
Her breasts were magnificent—full and heavy, with pale pink nipples already hardening in the cooler air. The cum that had dripped onto her chest earlier clung to the upper swell of her breasts, and more streaks painted her collarbone and shoulders where it had run down from her face.
"The women are going to help clean you up first," Akane said, gesturing for the nearest man to step forward. "Before we put the fresh clothes on."
The man moved closer, positioning himself directly in front of Mitsuri's exposed chest. His hand worked his cock with steady strokes, and his breathing had already started to turn ragged again despite having just finished minutes earlier.
Mitsuri's hands moved to push the yukata down further, sliding it over her hips and legs until she could kick it aside. She wore nothing underneath—her body completely bare except for the blindfold and the cum coating her skin. Her pussy was visible between her thighs, the pink flesh glistening slightly in the amber light.
"One of the helpers is going to use a special cleaning solution," Akane said, watching the first man's hand move faster on his cock. "It might feel warm when it touches your skin. That's completely normal."
"Okay," Mitsuri said, her voice carrying trust. "I'm ready."
The first man's body tensed. His hand squeezed the base of his shaft, and thick ropes of cum erupted to splatter across Mitsuri's breasts. The fluid hit her skin with audible impacts, coating her nipples and running down the curve of her breasts toward her stomach.
Mitsuri gasped at the sensation, her hands flying up instinctively before dropping back to her lap. "Oh! That is very warm!"
"I told you," Akane said. Her turquoise eyes tracked the second man stepping forward, already stroking himself to completion. "There will be several applications. Just stay still and let them work."
The second man's body went rigid. His cock pulsed in his hand, and thick streams of cum erupted across Mitsuri's stomach and breasts. The fluid splattered against her skin, adding to the mess already coating her upper body.
"Another application," Akane said, her voice maintaining that same measured tone.
The third man stepped forward immediately, his hand already working his shaft with frantic movements. His breathing came in harsh pants as he positioned himself closer to Mitsuri's kneeling form.
Mitsuri remained still, her hands resting in her lap as more warmth hit her skin. The cum dripped down her stomach, pooling in her navel before running in rivulets toward her thighs.
The third man finished across her chest and face, thick ropes painting her cheeks and lips. The fourth man followed, covering her breasts and shoulders with his release. The fifth man aimed lower, his cum splattering across Mitsuri's stomach and the tops of her thighs.
When the last man stepped back, Mitsuri sat completely covered. The fluid coated her hair, face, breasts, stomach, and thighs in thick layers that gleamed under the amber lighting.
"There," Akane said. She moved closer to Mitsuri, her heels clicking against the tatami mats. "Now we need to work the cleaning solution into your skin properly. Give me your hands."
Mitsuri lifted her hands from her lap. Akane's fingers closed around her wrists, guiding her palms to press against her own chest. The cum was warm and slick under Mitsuri's fingers.
"Like this," Akane said, positioning Mitsuri's hands to spread the fluid across her breasts. "We need to make sure it covers every inch of skin."
Mitsuri's fingers moved tentatively, spreading the cum across her chest. Akane's hands guided the movement, directing Mitsuri's palms to rub the fluid into her skin with circular motions.
"Don't miss any spots," Akane instructed. She moved Mitsuri's hands lower, guiding them to spread the cum down her stomach and across her hips.
Akane's own hands joined in, her fingers spreading the fluid across Mitsuri's shoulders and down her arms. The movements were methodical, covering every exposed inch of skin with the slick mixture.
Akane's hands worked in steady circles, spreading the warm fluid across Mitsuri's shoulders and down her arms. Her fingers pressed firmly against skin, ensuring complete coverage as she moved lower. The cum coated everything—slick and thick under her palms as she guided the motion across Mitsuri's upper body.
Mitsuri's hands continued their own work, still directed by Akane's earlier guidance. Her palms rubbed circles across her stomach, spreading the mess downward toward her hips. Small sounds escaped her throat—confusion mixed with something else as her fingers encountered more of the warm substance coating her skin.
"Make sure to cover everything thoroughly," Akane said. Her hands moved to Mitsuri's back, fingers spreading the fluid across her shoulder blades and down her spine. "The cleaning solution needs to be worked into every area."
"It's so warm," Mitsuri said. Her hands moved lower, following the path Akane had established. "And there's so much of it."
"That's normal." Akane's fingers traced along Mitsuri's sides, gathering more of the cum that had dripped down from her breasts. She spread it across Mitsuri's ribcage, working it into the skin with methodical precision. "The helpers use generous amounts to ensure proper cleaning."
The five men had formed their semicircle again, hands already working their cocks back to hardness. Their eyes tracked every movement as the two women rubbed cum into Mitsuri's skin. Breathing patterns shifted—becoming heavier, more labored—as they stroked themselves while watching.
Akane moved to kneel beside Mitsuri, positioning herself to reach more areas. Her hands slid down Mitsuri's stomach, fingers spreading wide to cover maximum surface area. The fluid was everywhere now—coating both their hands as they worked it across Mitsuri's torso.
"Your thighs need attention too," Akane said. She guided one of Mitsuri's hands downward, directing it to spread the cum that had pooled on the tops of her thighs. "Don't forget the inner areas."
Mitsuri's fingers moved tentatively across her thighs, spreading the slick substance as directed. Her breathing had quickened, chest rising and falling faster beneath the layer of cum coating her breasts. The blindfold remained secure across her eyes, hiding her vision but not the flush spreading across her cheeks.
Akane's hands joined Mitsuri's on her thighs, working the fluid lower toward her knees. Their fingers moved in tandem—Akane's deliberate and controlled, Mitsuri's uncertain but obedient. The cum spread in streaks across pale skin, leaving glistening trails in the amber light.
"Keep rubbing," Akane instructed. Both her hands and Mitsuri's worked across the freshly coated skin, spreading the newest layer of cum to join what was already there. The mixture was thick now—multiple loads combining into a coating that covered Mitsuri from neck to knees.
Akane's fingers moved lower, guiding Mitsuri's hands to spread the fluid across her inner thighs. Closer to her pussy with each circular motion, working the cum into areas that made Mitsuri's breathing hitch and her thighs tremble slightly.
"Almost done," Akane said. Her own hands moved to Mitsuri's breasts, palms cupping the full flesh and spreading the cum that coated them. Her fingers found Mitsuri's nipples—hard peaks that responded to the touch with visible tightening.
Mitsuri's mouth opened, a small sound escaping that might have been protest or pleasure. Her hands continued their work on her thighs, spreading the slick substance as directed even as her body began showing signs of arousal beyond her control.
The men had started stroking again, their recovery time apparently shorter with each round. Eyes fixed on the scene before them—two women kneeling on cum-stained tatami mats, hands working fluid into skin that gleamed in the lighting.
"Very good," Akane said when they'd finished. Mitsuri sat there glistening, the cum worked thoroughly into her skin until it coated her like oil.
Akane released Mitsuri's hands and stepped back. Her turquoise eyes tracked the five men still standing in their semicircle, their cocks already hardening again as they watched.
"Now," Akane said, "the women need to take your measurements. For the new clothing. They'll use their hands to measure your body, so they know exactly what size to get you."
"Oh, that makes sense," Mitsuri said. Her hands returned to her lap, fingers folding together. "I'm ready whenever they are."
"They're ready now," Akane said. She gestured for the first man to approach.
The man moved forward, positioning himself behind Mitsuri. His hands reached out, large and rough, closing around her breasts from behind. His fingers squeezed the soft flesh, kneading it with obvious pleasure rather than any measuring purpose.
Mitsuri's breath caught. "Oh! Their hands are very... thorough."
"They need to be precise," Akane said. She watched the second man kneel beside Mitsuri, his hands moving to her thighs. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, spreading her legs wider as he groped upward.
The third man positioned himself on Mitsuri's other side, his hands closing around her hips. He pulled her closer, his fingers sliding around to grip her ass while the man behind her continued kneading her breasts.
"They're measuring everything," Akane said. "To ensure the perfect fit."
The fourth man's hands joined in, sliding up Mitsuri's stomach to cup her breasts alongside the first man's grip. Four hands now worked her chest, squeezing and groping while Mitsuri's breathing grew more ragged.
The fifth man knelt in front of her, his hands pushing her thighs wider apart. His fingers traced up the inside of her legs, moving higher until they brushed against her pussy.
Mitsuri jerked at the contact. "That seems like a very intimate measurement!"
"It's necessary," Akane said, watching the man's fingers slide between Mitsuri's folds. "For certain types of traditional garments."
The hands continued their exploration. The men groped and squeezed every inch of Mitsuri's body—her breasts, her thighs, her ass, her pussy. Their fingers worked with increasing boldness, no longer making any pretense of measuring.
Mitsuri's breathing turned into soft gasps. Her hands remained folded in her lap despite the obvious confusion in the set of her shoulders.
"How much longer?" Mitsuri asked, her voice strained.
"They're almost finished," Akane said. She watched the man between Mitsuri's legs push two fingers inside her pussy, his thumb finding her clit. "Just a few more measurements."
The hands moved faster now, groping with open hunger. Mitsuri's body responded despite her confusion, her hips rolling forward into the fingers working between her legs, her back arching to press her breasts more firmly into the hands kneading them.
"Almost done," Akane repeated, her turquoise eyes tracking every movement with cold satisfaction.
Akane stepped back, her heels clicking against the tatami mats as she surveyed Mitsuri's flushed form. The woman's chest heaved with rapid breaths, her skin glistening with sweat and cum. Small sounds continued escaping her throat—soft gasps that spoke to the arousal the "measurements" had built in her body.
"Excellent work," Akane said to the men. She gestured toward the door. "You can bring in the new clothing now."
The nearest man moved toward the shoji screen, sliding it open. He reached into the corridor beyond and pulled in a folded garment—another yukata, but this one looked different even folded. The fabric was a vibrant pink that matched Mitsuri's hair, but the cut was clearly non-traditional.
The man returned to Mitsuri's side, the yukata draped over his arm. The other four men positioned themselves around her—two on each side, hands already reaching out.
"The women are going to dress you now," Akane said. "Just hold still and let them work."
"Okay," Mitsuri breathed, her voice still strained. Her hands remained folded in her lap as the men began their work.
The first man lifted the yukata, shaking it out to reveal its true form. The garment was barely longer than a long shirt—the hem would hit mid-thigh at best when worn. The neckline plunged deep, designed to expose maximum cleavage. Small bells hung from the sleeves on delicate chains, and the obi belt that came with it was decorated with explicit imagery—couples in various sexual positions rendered in detailed embroidery.
The men moved in coordinated motion. Two lifted Mitsuri's arms while another slid the yukata up over her hands and wrists. Their fingers lingered on her skin as they worked the sleeves into place, hands sliding along her arms with obvious appreciation.
Mitsuri's head tilted as the fabric settled on her shoulders. "This feels different from the other yukata. The material is softer."
"It's a higher quality fabric," Akane said. "More expensive."
The men's hands moved to position the garment properly on Mitsuri's body. Their palms slid across her shoulders, adjusting the neckline. Fingers traced along her collarbone, dipping lower to brush against the upper swell of her breasts as they arranged the plunging neckline.
One man's hand cupped Mitsuri's breast through the thin fabric, ostensibly to position it correctly within the garment. He squeezed gently, his thumb brushing across where her nipple pressed against the material. The other side received the same treatment from another man, both pairs of hands lingering far longer than necessary.
"The fit needs to be perfect," Akane said, watching their hands work.
The men wrapped the yukata closed across Mitsuri's body—or attempted to. The cut was designed to expose, not conceal. Even properly fastened, the neckline gaped open to show the valley between her breasts and the inner curves of the soft flesh. The hem barely covered her ass, riding up slightly in the back.
One man knelt behind her, his hands sliding down her back to smooth the fabric. His palms traced the curve of her spine, moving lower to cup her ass through the thin material. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he "adjusted" the hem.
Another man knelt in front of her, his hands on her thighs. He spread her legs wider, ostensibly to arrange the fabric properly, but his fingers trailed along her inner thighs with obvious intent. The yukata's short hem rode up further with the movement, barely covering her pussy.
"Almost done," Akane said. She moved closer, the obi belt in her hands.
The men lifted Mitsuri slightly—hands gripping her waist, her hips, her thighs. More groping disguised as assistance. Their fingers pressed into soft flesh as they held her suspended just enough for Akane to wrap the belt around her waist.
Akane worked the obi into place, the embroidered images of fucking couples now displayed prominently across Mitsuri's stomach and hips. She pulled it tight, cinching the yukata closed. The pressure made Mitsuri's breasts press together, deepening the cleavage visible through the plunging neckline.
The men lowered Mitsuri back down, their hands sliding across her body as they released her. Palms dragged across her thighs, her hips, her waist. One hand cupped her breast again, squeezing through the fabric before finally withdrawing.
Small bells chimed with each movement Mitsuri made. The sound was delicate but clear, drawing attention to every shift of her body.
"There," Akane said. "Perfect fit."
Mitsuri's hands moved to touch the fabric covering her body. Her fingers traced the short hem, confusion evident in the furrow of her brow beneath the blindfold. "This yukata feels very short. And the neckline seems quite open."
"It's the modern style," Akane said smoothly. "Very fashionable among young women seeking husbands. It shows confidence."
"Oh." Mitsuri's hands moved to her chest, feeling how much cleavage was exposed. "I see. If you think it's appropriate, Akane-san."
"Very appropriate," Akane said. She gestured for the men to step back, giving her space to examine their work.
Mitsuri knelt there in her new yukata—the short hem riding up to expose the lower curves of her ass, the plunging neckline barely containing her breasts, the explicit obi belt wrapped around her waist. The bells chimed softly with her breathing, and cum still glistening on her skin.
"Now," Akane said, her voice carrying that same warm authority. "We're going to bring the candidates back in for the final compatibility assessment."
Mitsuri's head lifted, her blindfolded face turning toward Akane's voice. "They're coming back?"
"Yes." Akane gestured toward the shoji screen, and the five men moved to the door. Their feet shuffled against the tatami mats—loud, deliberate steps that carried toward the corridor. The door slid open with its characteristic whisper. More footsteps—heavy treads moving away—and then silence.
A pause. Then the footsteps returned, approaching from the corridor with the same heavy tread. The door slid open again, and the five men filed back into the room, positioning themselves in their semicircle around Mitsuri's kneeling form.
"The candidates have returned," Akane announced. "And now we move to the most important test of all."
Mitsuri's hands clasped together in her lap, and her posture straightened with visible excitement. The bells on her sleeves chimed with the movement. "The most important test? What is it?"
"A mental exercise," Akane said. She moved closer to Mitsuri, her heels clicking against the mats. "This will determine true compatibility on the deepest level. Each candidate will pretend to have sex with you, and you'll use your intuition to feel which one creates the strongest connection."
Mitsuri's head tilted, confusion evident in the set of her shoulders. "Pretend to have sex? I don't understand how that works."
"It's a visualization exercise," Akane explained. "The candidates will position themselves as if they're having sex with you, but it's all mental. You'll focus on the energy, the connection you feel with each one. The physical sensations are just your mind responding to the compatibility test."
"But we won't actually be..." Mitsuri's voice trailed off, her hands twisting together in her lap.
"No, of course not," Akane said smoothly. "It's purely a mental assessment. The candidates have been train to do these compatibility tests. They know how to create the right energy without actual intercourse."
Mitsuri's shoulders remained tense beneath the short yukata. Her fingers worked against each other in her lap, and small sounds of uncertainty escaped her throat.
"I don't know if I should—"
"Mitsuri-san." Akane's voice took on a firmer edge. "You've come this far. You've completed every other assessment. Are you really going to give up now, when we're so close to finding your perfect match?"
The words hung in the air. Mitsuri's posture shifted—shoulders slumping forward slightly, defeat visible in the curve of her spine.
"I suppose you're right," Mitsuri said, her voice small. "I've been trying to find a husband for so long. If this test will help, then I should do it."
"Exactly." Akane's lips curved upward. "And remember—it's just pretend. You're simply using your intuition to sense compatibility."
"Just pretend," Mitsuri repeated. Her hands relaxed slightly in her lap. "Okay. I can do that."
"Good." Akane moved to position herself beside Mitsuri, close enough to guide but far enough to observe. "Now, there's one more thing that will make this test more effective."
"What's that?"
"You should vocalize your feelings during each candidate's turn," Akane said. "Praise them. Encourage them. Speak as if it were real—that will help you tap into your true intuition about compatibility."
Mitsuri's head tilted again. "Speak as if it were real? You mean, say things like I would if we were actually..."
"Exactly," Akane confirmed. "The more you commit to the mental exercise, the clearer your intuition will be about which candidate is your best match."
"I see." Mitsuri's hands twisted together once more before settling. "That makes sense. If I'm going to do this test, I should do it properly."
"Very good." Akane gestured for the first man to approach. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Yes," Mitsuri said. Her voice carried more confidence now, determination replacing the earlier uncertainty. "I'm ready to find my husband."
The first man moved forward, his hakama already loosened around his hips. His cock jutted forward—thick and hard, the head glistening with precum that leaked steadily. He positioned himself between Mitsuri's spread knees, close enough that the tip of his shaft brushed against the short hem of her yukata.
Akane watched his hands move to grip Mitsuri's hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the thin fabric. He pulled her closer, adjusting her position on the mats until her pussy was aligned with his cock.
"The first candidate is beginning now," Akane announced. "Focus on the energy. Let yourself feel the connection."
The man's hips moved forward. His cock pushed between Mitsuri's folds, spreading her open as he drove inside with one steady thrust. The thick shaft buried itself completely, his balls pressing against her ass as he bottomed out.
Mitsuri's back arched. Her mouth opened, and a gasp escaped—sharp and surprised. Her hands flew up from her lap, fingers spreading wide before clenching into fists.
The first man's hips pulled back, then drove forward again. His cock slid through Mitsuri's wetness with a wet sound that echoed through the room. His hands gripped her hips harder, fingers digging into flesh as he established a rhythm—steady thrusts that made her body rock with each impact.
Mitsuri's head tilted back, her blindfolded face turned toward the ceiling. "It feels so real!" The words burst from her throat between gasps. "This mental exercise is incredibly vivid, Akane-san!"
Akane's lips curved upward as she watched the man's cock disappear and reappear between Mitsuri's thighs. "That means the first candidate has very good energy with you," Akane said. Her voice maintained that same measured warmth. "But we need to try everyone to be completely sure."
The man leered down at Mitsuri's flushed face, his expression twisted with pleasure as he drove into her harder. His breathing turned ragged, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Remember to be vocal," Akane instructed. "Praise him. Encourage him. Let your intuition speak through your words."
"Yes—yes!" Mitsuri's hands gripped the tatami mats beneath her, fingers digging into the woven surface. "You feel so good! This connection is amazing!"
The bells on her sleeves chimed with each thrust, creating a delicate melody that contrasted sharply with the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh. The man's pace increased, his hips moving faster as he chased his release.
His body went rigid. His cock pulsed inside Mitsuri, and thick warmth flooded her pussy as he finished. He held himself buried deep for several long moments before finally pulling back, his shaft slipping free with a wet sound.
"Next candidate," Akane announced.
The second man stepped forward immediately. His hands gripped Mitsuri's shoulders, and he guided her body to turn. She moved with his direction, rolling onto her hands and knees on the cum-stained mats. The short yukata rode up completely, exposing her ass and the cum already dripping from her pussy.
The man positioned himself behind her, his cock pressing against her entrance. He pushed inside with one steady thrust, filling her from the new angle. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back against him as he began moving.
"Oh!" Mitsuri's arms trembled beneath her weight. "This feels different! The energy is coming from a different direction!"
"Each candidate has unique energy," Akane said. She watched the man's cock slide in and out of Mitsuri's pussy, watched the cum from the first man leak out around his shaft with each thrust. "Keep being vocal."
"Yes! Yes, this is wonderful too!" Mitsuri's voice climbed higher. The bells chimed frantically now, keeping time with the man's increasingly brutal pace. "You're so deep! The connection is so strong!"
The second man's hips slammed forward with increasing force. His breathing turned harsh, and his fingers dug bruises into Mitsuri's hips as he chased his release. The wet sounds of his cock driving into her pussy filled the room, mixing with the frantic chiming of the bells on her sleeves.
"Yes! Don't stop!" Mitsuri's voice had lost some of its innocent quality, taking on a breathless edge. "Fill me up! I need to feel your energy!"
His body went rigid. His cock pulsed inside her, adding his release to the first man's. When he pulled out, thick streams of cum dripped from her pussy onto the mats below.
"Third candidate," Akane said.
The third man moved forward immediately. His hands gripped Mitsuri's shoulders and guided her to roll onto her back. She moved with his direction, her legs spreading automatically as he positioned himself between her thighs. He lifted her hips, angling them upward as he drove inside.
The new position made Mitsuri's back arch off the mats, her breasts threatening to spill from the plunging neckline of the yukata. The bells chimed wildly as he began thrusting, each impact driving her body upward across the tatami.
"Oh fuck!" The word burst from Mitsuri's throat before she could stop it. "I mean—oh, the connection is so intense!"
Akane's turquoise eyes tracked every movement. Her hand moved to the front of her own yukata, fingers sliding beneath the fabric. She found the wet heat between her legs, her fingers pressing against her clit through her panties.
"Keep going," Akane said. Her voice remained steady despite the movement of her hand beneath the dark fabric. "We need to test all the candidates thoroughly."
The third man's pace increased. His cock drove into Mitsuri with brutal force, making her breasts bounce with each impact. The yukata had ridden up completely now, exposing her stomach and the obi belt with its explicit embroidery.
"Yes! Harder!" Mitsuri's voice had climbed to something desperate. "Fuck me harder! I need—I need more!"
Akane's fingers pressed harder against her clit, rubbing in slow circles. Her breathing remained controlled, but her other hand gripped the edge of the tatami mat beside her.
The third man finished with a groan, his cock pulsing inside Mitsuri before he pulled out. Cum dripped from her pussy in thick streams, pooling beneath her on the already-stained mats.
"Fourth candidate," Akane announced. Her hand never stopped its movement beneath her yukata.
The fourth man stepped forward and gripped Mitsuri's waist. He rolled her onto her side, positioning one of her legs over his shoulder as he pushed inside from the side angle. His cock filled her completely, and his free hand gripped her breast through the thin fabric of the yukata.
"Oh god! Oh fuck!" Mitsuri's voice had lost all pretense of innocence. "Your cock feels so good! Don't stop fucking me!"
The fourth man's hips moved with steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of Mitsuri's cum-filled pussy. The wet sounds were obscene now—each thrust accompanied by the slick noise of multiple loads being churned inside her.
Akane's fingers pushed her panties aside, sliding directly against her wet flesh. She rubbed her clit with increasing pressure, her thighs tensing as pleasure built in her core. Her turquoise eyes never left the scene before her—Mitsuri's body being used, her voice calling out with increasing vulgarity.
"Fuck! I'm going to—I'm going to cum!" Mitsuri's body convulsed, her pussy clenching around the fourth man's cock. "Don't stop! Keep fucking me!"
The fourth man drove deeper, his pace brutal as Mitsuri's orgasm crashed through her. Her back arched, her mouth open in a silent scream before sound finally emerged—high and desperate and completely wrecked.
He finished inside her, adding his release to the others. When he pulled out, cum gushed from her pussy in a flood that soaked the mats beneath her trembling form.
"Last candidate," Akane said. Her fingers worked faster against her clit, her breathing finally showing signs of strain.
The fifth man moved forward and gripped Mitsuri's hips. He flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her ass up while pressing her face into the mats. The position left her completely exposed, her pussy dripping cum that ran down her thighs.
He drove inside with one brutal thrust. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks as he began pounding into her with savage force. Each impact made Mitsuri's body jerk forward, her breasts dragging against the rough tatami through the thin yukata.
"Yes! Fuck yes!" Mitsuri's voice was muffled against the mats but no less vulgar. "Fuck my pussy! Use me! I'm such a good slut for you!"
The words sent heat flooding through Akane's core. Her fingers rubbed her clit frantically now, her other hand moving to grip her own breast through her yukata. Her hips rolled forward into her touch, seeking more friction.
The fifth man's pace became erratic. His fingers dug into Mitsuri's ass hard enough to leave marks, and his breathing turned to harsh grunts with each thrust.
"Cum inside me!" Mitsuri begged, her voice raw. "Fill my pussy with your cum! I need it! I need all of it!"
The man's body went rigid. His cock pulsed inside her, and his final load joined the others flooding Mitsuri's pussy. When he pulled out, cum poured from her in thick streams that puddled beneath her trembling thighs.
Akane's fingers pressed hard against her clit, circling frantically as she watched the cum pour from Mitsuri's used pussy. The sight of it—thick and white, multiple loads churning together and flooding out—pushed her over the edge. Her body went rigid, her thighs clamping together around her hand as her orgasm crashed through her. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged beyond a sharp exhale.
Mitsuri collapsed onto the tatami mats, her body sprawled across the cum-soaked surface. The short yukata had ridden up completely, bunched around her waist and exposing everything below. Her legs remained spread, trembling with aftershocks. Cum continued leaking from her pussy in steady streams, running down her thighs and pooling beneath her ass. Her braids—pink and lime green—lay plastered to her sweat-soaked skin, some strands stuck to her face and neck. The bells on her sleeves chimed weakly with each labored breath. Her breasts had spilled from the plunging neckline, the pale flesh marked with red impressions from groping hands. More cum coated her stomach, her thighs, her face—layers upon layers from multiple rounds of testing.
Akane straightened, withdrawing her hand from beneath her yukata. Her expression returned to that composed, professional mask—no trace of what had just occurred visible in her features. She moved closer to where Mitsuri lay panting on the mats.
"Mitsuri-san," Akane said, her voice perfectly steady. "Which candidate felt the most real? Which one created the strongest connection?"
Mitsuri's head lifted slightly, turning toward Akane's voice. Her chest heaved with each breath, and small sounds of confusion escaped her throat before she found words.
"They—they all felt so good," Mitsuri said, her voice hoarse. "I can't choose just one. Every single connection was amazing. So strong. So perfect."
Akane's lips curved upward. She knelt beside Mitsuri's sprawled form, her fingers moving to the silk blindfold. The knot came free easily, and she pulled the fabric away from Mitsuri's eyes.
Mitsuri blinked rapidly, her large green eyes adjusting to the amber light. Her gaze focused slowly—first on Akane's face, then moving past her to the five men still standing in their semicircle. The men's hakama hung loose around their hips, their cocks visible and softening. Their faces showed satisfaction, eyes tracking Mitsuri's exposed body with obvious appreciation.
Mitsuri's eyes widened. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. Her gaze dropped to her own body—the short yukata bunched around her waist, her breasts exposed, cum coating her skin and dripping from between her legs. Understanding dawned slowly across her features, followed by confusion, then something else entirely.
"This means," Akane said, her voice carrying that same warm authority, "that all five of them should be your husbands. The compatibility was perfect with every single candidate."
Mitsuri's expression transformed. The confusion melted away, replaced by pure joy that lit up her face despite the cum still coating her features. Her hands clasped together, and she pushed herself up to sitting—ignoring the mess coating her body and the mats beneath her.
"Really?" The word came out breathless with excitement. "All five of them? I get five husbands?"
"Exactly," Akane confirmed. "Five perfect matches. You'll never be lonely again."
Mitsuri's laugh bubbled up—bright and genuine despite her thoroughly debauched state. "I can't believe it! After all this time, I finally found husbands! Five of them!" She looked at each man in turn, her smile widening. "This is the happiest day of my life!"
Akane stood, smoothing the dark fabric of her yukata. "I'll leave you with your new husbands now. You should have some private time together." She moved toward the shoji screen, her heels clicking against the tatami. "Congratulations, Mitsuri-san." She told her and she started to exit the room.
Mitsuri remained on the cum-soaked mats. Her hands moved to her thighs, spreading them wider apart. The short yukata bunched higher around her waist, and her breasts spilled completely from the plunging neckline—full flesh bouncing slightly with the movement. Her mouth opened wide, tongue extending past her lips. The pink muscle glistened with saliva, hanging out in a display of complete availability.
The five men closed in, forming a tight circle around her kneeling form. Their bodies blocked most of the amber light, casting shadows across her flushed skin. Their hands reached out—groping, positioning, claiming.
"I'm ready for the honeymoon!" Mitsuri's voice carried that same bright enthusiasm despite the vulgarity of her position. Her legs remained spread, her tongue still hanging from her open mouth, her breasts exposed and marked. "Please! Use your wife however you want!"
The door slid shut as Akane left the room, sliding it closed behind her with a soft thud. The amber light from the lanterns caught her profile as she walked away—turquoise eyes gleaming with satisfaction, lips curved in a smile that held no warmth.
"CUT!!!"
Akane's heels clicked against the studio floor as she moved toward where Valentino sat sprawled in his director's chair. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his lips, and his four hands gestured animatedly at the monitors displaying the final frame of the shoot.
She didn't hesitate. Her body draped across his lap with practiced grace, one arm sliding around his shoulders while her other hand traced along the lapel of his coat. The dark fabric of her yukata shifted with the movement, exposing more of her thigh.
"How did I do?" Her voice carried more warmth than she'd used throughout the shoot, but now directed at him instead of the camera.
Valentino's grin stretched wider across his face, sharp teeth glinting under the studio lights. His upper hands gestured toward the monitors while his lower hands moved to rest against her waist. "Cariño, you were fucking perfect." Smoke curled from between his teeth as he spoke. "Every single frame was gold. Pure gold."
His fingers drummed against her side—that restless cocaine energy still thrumming through his system. "And from the look on those five executives from Lust, they loved every second of it. Val smirk as he could still hear them go at it with Mitsuri.
"With them happy, they're sure to invest in VVV." Valentino's voice climbed with excitement. "The expansion into Lust's territory, the new production facilities, all of it. This shoot sealed the deal."
Akane shifted her position on his lap, pressing herself closer against his chest. Her fingers traced patterns along his collar, and her head tilted to rest against his shoulder.
"I'm so happy I could help you, Daddy," she said, her voice carrying just enough volume to be heard over the ambient studio noise.
Valentino's grin widened. One hand moved to cup her chin, tilting her face upward. Smoke curled between them as he spoke. "You're going to keep helping me, cariño. This is just the beginning."
A muffled sound carried through the walls—high and desperate, the unmistakable pitch of pleasure being drawn out. Mitsuri's voice, still audible from the other room where the executives continued their "investment negotiations."
Akane's lips curved upward. Her fingers stopped their tracing and gripped his coat instead, pulling herself closer. "Yes, Daddy," she said. "Whatever you need."