I was getting annoyed.
The middle-aged woman wasn't offering her daughter any reprieve, and she wasn't offering me any relief. My cock was throbbing with a dull, persistent ache, demanding attention that neither the flustered daughter nor the scheming mother seemed ready to provide.
I briefly considered punishing Mebuki for the interruption, but the problem with an obsessed, entitled masochist was that punishment was just foreplay with better branding. Anything I did to her now—humiliating her, hitting her, degrading her—would just get her off. And frankly, my blue balls needed a release, not a philosophical debate on the nature of pain.
I decided to spare my student the shame and embarrassment her mother clearly wasn't going to provide. The faster I explained this away, the faster Sakura would leave, and the faster I could get back to take care of the cheating mother the way she deserved—hard and rough.
"I was Sakura's Jounin commander on the last mission to the Land of Waves," I said, keeping my voice level and professional, ignoring the fact that I was stark naked and currently dripping with her mother's fluids. "After some... ups and downs, I decided to take her on as a personal student. She showed interest in medical ninjutsu, has the chakra control for it, and demonstrated potential. More importantly, she showed me she's willing to put in the work to improve."
"Sensei..." Sakura blinked, her mouth parting slightly. Her luscious bottom lip trembled. She looked at me with wide, glassy eyes, her posture relaxing instantly. My casualness seemed to calm her, like she was hearing the story from my perspective for the first time. Even though I hadn't said anything particularly profound, she looked touched. Genuinely moved that I was framing our chaotic, unbalanced dynamic as a noble pursuit of academic excellence.
It was cute.
"Wonderful!"
Mebuki clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and jarring. She practically jumped in place, her breasts bouncing with a wet slap against her chest, completely unfazed by her own nudity.
She skipped—actually skipped—behind Sakura, placing her hands firmly on her daughter's shoulders. Sakura stiffened, clearly unsure how to handle her mother's naked, sticky touch; the intimacy of it was made even more uncomfortable by the context.
"I've been so worried about Sakura," Mebuki continued, her voice dripping with maternal concern that sounded more performative than genuine. "She's never been particularly... gifted. You know how she is—so clumsy, always tripping over her own feet, and her forehead makes her so unbalanced! And don't get me started on her focus. She's flighty, isn't she? Just like her father." She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I've prayed every night that someone would take pity on her and give her a chance, and it seems my prayers have finally been answered!"
"For a man of your stature to condescend to teach a girl with... well, with her limitations... it's simply magnanimous." She turned her gaze to me, her green eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you so much, Eishin-sama, for taking her under your wing. I know she can be difficult—stubborn, easily distracted, overly emotional—but I'm sure with your patience and discipline, you'll be able to mold her into something... acceptable."
Sakura didn't even frown. She just deadpanned, her expression flat and resigned. She wasn't offended. She was used to this.
I, however, found it irritating. Not because I cared about Sakura's feelings— well, that too, I was the only one allowed to toy with her, not her mother—but because I didn't want to waste more time on the vain middle-aged woman's shenanigans.
Still, I never missed an opportunity to tighten the leash.
"Actually," I said, my voice smooth and deliberate, "Sakura's followed my instructions without complaint so far. She listens well, works hard, and doesn't whine about the training. Well... half the time, anyway." I let my gaze flick to her meaningfully. "The other half, she walks out of the spot I told her to stay in."
It was a beautiful little maneuver.
By defending the daughter against the mother, I became the benevolent protector, the only one who saw her worth. By defending the mother against the daughter earlier, I maintained the social hierarchy.
Eishin over Mother. Mother over Daughter. And Eishin over everyone.
It locked Sakura into a position of gratitude toward me, detaching her further from her mother's influence and making her more dependent on mine.
Sakura's cheeks flushed pink. "I—I'm sorry, sensei," she stammered, her eyes darting away sheepishly, looking down at her boots. "I just thought—there was a good reason—I mean, I really didn't mean to—to walk out, it's just—"
She was trying to apologize, trying to be the good student, but anatomy was a powerful distraction.
Her green eyes drifted up from the floor, bypassing my knees, and inevitably landed back on my exposed, rock-hard shaft.
She froze. Her face, already flushed, turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with her pink hair. She tried to look away, tilting her chin up, but her eyes refused to cooperate. They were glued to it.
I watched her swallow hard, her throat bobbing. Even in that ridiculous outfit—the red sleeveless shirt that hugged her modest curves, the black shorts peeking out from under that impractical apron skirt—she was incredibly hot. Her thighs, framed by those knee-high boots, were trembling for some reason.
"I'll... I'll do better next time," she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual. "I—I really have to go now. I have... things. Big things—Huge things to do. It's really... so big... the task, I mean!"
I couldn't help the amused snort I let out.
She tried to step back, pivoting on her heel to flee the room, but Mebuki's hands clamped down on her shoulders, holding her firmly in place.
"Mom?" Sakura asked, her voice tight with panic. She looked back at her mother, then at me, then down at my dick, then back to her mother, her eyes wide and pleading.
Mebuki frowned, tilting her head with feigned confusion. The smeared mascara around her eyes made her look like a confused raccoon. I should probably keep that to myself. She was still fuckable and hot.
"What's wrong with you, Sakura? Why are you acting so... prudish? You're his student now. Surely you've seen Eishin-sama's magnificent form many times. I know how intimate and sacred the bond of a Master and the Apprentice is. Dear, there's nothing to be ashamed of in front of your mother."
Sakura's indignation hit her like a physical blow. The implication sank in, and her face went from embarrassed to horrified.
"What?!" She dislodged herself from her mother's grip, spinning around and swatting Mebuki's hands away. "This is not—that's not how it works! We don't—he doesn't—God, Mom, what is wrong with you?!"
Even I was a little amazed that Mebuki had gone there. Well, not just gone there, she seemed delighted by the idea.
It was an open secret that students and masters sometimes developed intimate relationships, but that was more prevalent in samurai culture, and even then, it was traditionally a thing between men. They had this whole romanticized philosophy about it being more sacred than marital intimacy—some elevated, spiritual bond or whatever.
These people were actually nuts.
But it got widespread plays and literature that it was no wonder for a status-obsessed civilian like Mebuki to latch onto that archaic concept, twist it, and romanticize the idea of her teenage daughter banging her teacher just because it sounded high-class.
Mebuki stared at Sakura with wide, incredulous eyes, then let out a sigh so exaggerated it practically sucked the air out of the room. She pressed a hand to her own cheek, shaking her head in that classic, disappointed-mother way that makes every child want to shrink into the floorboards.
"Oh, I should have known," she mumbled, loud enough for both of us to hear. "I suppose spoiled you too much and I didn't teach you the proper respect a student owes their sensei…. or the proper way to honor someone's investment in you. How careless of me."
She turned to me, bowing deeply, which, given her nudity, gave me a fantastic view of her swaying breasts and the slick, glistening patch between her thighs. Yet I barely focused on that.
"I am so sorry, Eishin-sama," she said, her voice dripping with theatrical remorse.
What the hell was she doing?
Even Sakura looked thrown. "Mom, what are you…"
"This is entirely my fault." Mebuki ignored her, keeping her head bowed. "I should have taught her better. If I had been stricter... if I had instilled in her proper values of respect and duty, she wouldn't be this….. ungrateful." She paused for effect, then peeked up at me through her lashes. "A proper young woman would understand that when a man of your status offers his guidance, his time, his mentorship... well, she should offer everything she has in return. Her devotion. Her support. Her... usefulness."
She let the word hang there, heavy and suggestive.
"A student serves her master," Mebuki continued, her tone shifting into practiced lecture mode. "That is the natural order. She should be attending to your needs, anticipating your desires, making sure you are... comfortable. I failed to teach her that. I failed to teach her how to appreciate what's been given to her. And now, she acts like a selfish child, taking your wisdom without giving anything back. I have failed as a mother."
I stared at her, torn between laughing, applauding, and strangling this manipulative bitch.
This was what she considered failure as a mother? That her daughter wasn't offering herself to her teacher?
Not the fact that she'd cheated on her husband while her kid watched from a closet. Not the fact that she was currently naked and covered in bodily fluids in front of her teenage daughter. Not the fact that she'd degraded herself, her family, and everything resembling maternal dignity. Not the fact that she'd called her husband weak and pathetic while getting her ass spanked raw.
No. The crime was that Sakura hadn't spread her legs yet.
Of course, I knew Mebuki wasn't being sincere. This was theater. She was weaponizing guilt, playing on Sakura's deep-seated insecurities, leveraging her maternal authority to pressure the girl into... well, into whatever twisted fantasy Mebuki had cooked up in her status-obsessed brain.
And it was working.
Sakura's jaw was clenched so hard I thought her teeth might crack. Her fists were shaking at her sides. She looked like she was two steps away from either crying or lashing out—and I couldn't tell which would come first.
I was starting to feel pity for her. I was the biggest jerk in the world, but in no way do I want to see my little student sad; this was just too much.
Time to intervene before something broke.
"It's alright, Mebuki," I said smoothly, raising a hand. "You have nothing to apologize for. My relationship with Sakura was forged in battle. It doesn't need to be... that kind of relationship to be strong." I paused, letting my gaze drift meaningfully to the pinkette. "Our bond is already solid. I ask nothing of my student except that she give her all to my teachings. That's all I need from her."
Sakura stopped glaring at her mother. Instead, she looked at me—and the anger in her eyes melted into guilt. Pure, self-directed guilt.
My words hadn't contradicted what her mother said. They'd reinforced it. And instead of turning her anger outward, she'd turned it inward.
She looked at me for a long moment, her green eyes shimmering, then looked away, shame written all over her face.
I was indeed a jerk, but her mother was still kinda right; Sakura easily forgets to be grateful. Just how she treated Naruto in the show, rejecting the blonde, then asking him to get Sasuke, then trying to manipulate him. I indeed felt bad for the pinkette, but in no way was she the innocent sort; just look at the past hour.
Mebuki lifted her head, and a radiant smile spread across her ruined face. "Oh, Eishin-sama, you are too honorable. Truly. Most men in your position would have demanded more, but you are so patient, so kind." She sighed wistfully, then glanced at Sakura with a disapproving frown. "It's a shame my daughter doesn't seem to appreciate how fortunate she is."
But still, if you have a mother like that, you don't need enemies. She did all the demoralizing work for free.
"Stop," Sakura said through clenched teeth, her voice tight and low, "talking like I'm not here,"
"Then act like you are." Mebuki's smile didn't waver. It just turned sickly sweet, patronizing in that way only mothers can master. "Stand properly. Speak properly. If you're going to be his student, Sakura, be the kind that makes his life easier, not harder."
"That's not what being a student means," Sakura shot back, her voice rising.
Mebuki let out a light, tinkling laugh, as she'd just heard the most adorable misconception. "Oh, sweetheart... that's exactly what it means. You just want all the benefits with none of the responsibility. I thought I'd raised you better than to be this selfish. I thought you understood that nothing of value comes without sacrifice."
Sakura opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Her mother's words—delivered with the authority of a parent—had hit too deep. You could see the doubt creeping in, the way her confidence wavered.
Mebuki turned back to me, smoothing her blonde hair like she was fixing a minor social faux pas. Her body twitched slightly, a residual shudder from her earlier climax, and a bead of moisture dripped down her inner thigh.
"Eishin-sama, please forgive her," she said smoothly. "She's emotional. She's young. She doesn't understand yet that a teacher's attention is not a right—it's a gift. A gift that must be repaid."
"But!" Her smile widened, stretching her lips into something almost manic. "But it's never too late to learn, is it? In fact, with both her mother and her sensei here... surely, this is the perfect moment to start. Don't you think? After all, 'the student who hesitates to learn will regret the lesson twice.'" She tilted her head, her green eyes gleaming. "And I do hate to see my daughter filled with regret."
Sakura stared at her mother in disbelief. "You—you can't be serious. Mom, what are you—"
I stood there, equally stunned by what the mother was suggesting.
Was she seriously suggesting...?
My cock gave a delighted, traitorous jump.
I breathed hard through my nose, trying to keep my expression neutral.
A mother and daughter...
— — — — — — — — — — —
You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem