"Hmm, I didn't think you'd find the same result by talking with the psychiatrist, Rias."
"I was just as surprised as you were, Sona."
The Student Council room was quiet, the afternoon sun slanting through the large windows and catching the dust motes dancing in the air. Sona Sitri, immaculate in her student council uniform, stood behind her desk, her posture ramrod straight. Behind her, Sanji, a young man with blonde hair and an almost unnervingly devoted expression, stood. Across from her, Rias Gremory leaned against the front of the same desk, a picture of casual confidence. Behind her, Issei Hyoudou shuffled his feet, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, trying very hard to look anywhere but at the two other people in the room.
"According to the report, Sanji-kun's most powerful emotional driver is a profound desire to be cuckolded," Sona stated, her tone as clinical as if she were diagnosing a common cold. She pushed her glasses up her nose, the glint on the lenses hiding the faint flush on her cheeks. She gestured vaguely behind her with a thumb. "A complex, layered fantasy revolving around a woman he holds in high esteem choosing another, more 'worthy' partner right in front of him."
Behind her, Sanji made a choked, whimpering sound, like a kicked puppy.
Rias let out a soft, knowing chuckle, a low, melodious sound that made the hairs on Issei's arms stand on end. She turned her head, a crimson lock of hair falling across her shoulder, and her blue eyes met Issei's over her shoulder. A similar flush colored her own cheeks. "It seems our boys share a particular… affliction, Sona."
Issei blushed heavily at his desire being exposed, and glanced away as he wouldn't meet Sona's gaze.
"Indeed," Sona continued, "I never imagined powering up a Sacred Gear with such... lewd desires.. In any case, the arrangements are in place, just as you requested."
She picked up a pen from her desk, tapping it once on a neatly stacked pile of paperwork. "Our guests should be arriving shortly."
"Guests?" Issei blurted out before he could stop himself. The word echoed in the sterile quiet of the room. His mind raced, a frantic, panicked gallop of worst-case scenarios. Guests? What guests? Who else needed to be brought in on his shameful desire?
Rias just patted his hand, a gesture of reassurance that made him preen under her touch, "Patience, Ise. All part of the process."
As if on cue, a sharp knock echoed from the door. Issei's heart hammered against his ribs as he turned around.
"Enter," Sona called out, her voice crisp and clear.
The door swung open, and two figures shuffled in, their postures radiating confusion and a familiar sort of guilty energy. Matsuda and Motohama.
Matsuda, with his nearly bald hair and perpetually nervous expression, wrung his hands. Motohama, glasses perched on his nose, clutched a sketchbook to his chest as if it were a holy text. They both stopped just inside the doorway, their eyes wide as they took in the scene: Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri, the two most powerful girls in school, standing by the desk, with Issei and Sanji standing behind them like chastened soldiers.
"U-um, Sitri-senpai?" Matsuda stammered, his gaze darting between the two girls. "You… you said you needed to see us? Did we do something wrong?"
Motohama shot a venomous, accusatory glare at Issei. "Did Hyoudou drag us into another one of his messes?"
Motohama leaned closer to his friend, hissing in a whisper shout that carried across the entire room. "I bet he did. What was it this time? Peeping on the kendo club again? Did he get caught trying to 'measure' the swim team's bust sizes? Issei, you moron, you're going to get us all expelled! If you do that stuff, at least bring us with you, so we can all experience heaven before we get in trouble!"
"I didn't do anything!" Issei yelped, his face flushing. This was a nightmare. His two best friends, the very pillars of the Perverted Trio, were here to witness his deepest, most humiliating secret being laid bare.
"On the contrary," Sona said, her voice cutting through the boys' panicked babbling, "You're not in trouble at all."
Matsuda and Motohama froze, their bickering dying in their throats. They blinked at her, identical expressions of confusion on their faces.
"However," Sona continued, her gaze sweeping over them, making them both stand up a little straighter, "I am aware of the… incident… last Tuesday. The incident involving the girls' locker room window and a pair of high-powered binoculars."
Matsuda went pale. Motohama's glasses slid down his nose.
"But, you've both managed to restrain yourselves for an entire week," Sona conceded, a flicker of something that might have been amusement in her dark eyes. "A remarkable feat of self-control. Rias and I believe such perseverance should be rewarded."
Rias grinned, a slow, predatory curve of her lips that made the room feel several degrees warmer. "Absolutely, Sona. Think of this as a… special incentive program."
She let her gaze drift over to Motohama and Matsuda, her smile widening. "A way to show you that good things come to those who behave."
Then, without another word, Sona brought her hands to the front of her school uniform. Her fingers, deft and precise, found the small knot of black ribbon that sat on the front of her shirt. With a single, practiced tug, the ribbon came undone. She let it flutter to the surface of her desk.
The world seemed to slow down for the Perverted Trio. Motohama's jaw went slack. Matsuda's eyes bugged out of his head. They watched, transfixed, as Sona's fingers moved to the top button of her crisp white blouse. Her movements were economical, devoid of any overt sensuality, yet they held the two boys in a state of paralyzed fascination. One button. Then another. The fabric parted, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her throat, the delicate hollow at the base of her neck.
"A reward…?" Matsuda breathed, the word barely audible.
Rias mirrored Sona's actions. Her crimson locks shimmered under the sunlight as she unfastened her own ribbon, a slash of color against her white uniform. Her movements were different from Sona's—not clinical, but slow and deliberate. She was putting on a show. Her blouse fell open, and with it, the room's temperature seemed to spike. She shrugged the material from one shoulder, exposing the creamy expanse of skin, the strap of her black bra a stark line against her flesh.
"S-Sona-senpai…" Motohama whispered, his knuckles white as he gripped his sketchbook. "R-Rias-senpai… this is… this is…"
Issei and Sanji stood behind them, their own reactions a stark contrast to their friends'. While Matsuda and Motohama were statues of pure shock, Sanji was trembling, a faint flush creeping up his neck. And Issei… a strange, potent cocktail of emotions was churning within him. There was the baseline hormonal roar, of course. But layered on top of that was a sharp, stabbing jealousy. He'd seen this before. He'd seen Rias bare herself for someone else. The memory of Kiba's hands on her, his face buried in her cleavage, flashed in his mind, and his cock gave a traitorous twitch of interest.
Sona had fully unbuttoned her shirt now, letting it hang open to reveal a simple, unadorned white bra. The contrast between her serious, academic expression and her state of undress was dizzying. Rias, meanwhile, let her upper uniform slide down her arms, pooling at her elbows. Her breasts, straining against the black lace of her bra, seemed to defy gravity, a magnificent spectacle that had Motohama making a sound like a tea kettle about to boil.
"This," Rias purred, her eyes glinting as she looked directly at the stunned duo, "is just the appetizer."
She reached behind her back, her hands moving with practiced ease. The clasp of her bra came undone with a soft click. She held the cups in place for a tantalizing second, a wicked smirk playing on her lips. "The full reward is… complete access. For one hour, you can do whatever you want to us."
Motohama's glasses fogged over. Matsuda audibly swallowed.
Rias let the bra fall away. Her breasts were exposed, full and perfect, the nipples already hardening in the cool air of the room.
"Anything you can imagine," she breathed. "Grope, lick, suck… rub against them. Use them as you see fit."
The two perverts stared at her breasts with wide, awe-struck eyes.
"The only rule," she added, her voice dropping to a low, firm command, "is no actual sex. No penetration. Do you understand?"
Sona, with a much more businesslike air, reached behind her own back. Her movements were efficient, almost detached. Her bra joined her shirt on the floor. Her breasts were smaller than Rias's, but perfectly shaped, as the pale skin seeming to glow in the sunlight.
"This is your reward. The same rules apply to me." Sona said, her tone clinical, though a faint blush colored her cheeks.
She turned her head slightly, her dark, commanding eyes fixing on Sanji. "You. Watch."
Sanji flinched as if struck. He took a half-step back, a pained, whimpering sound escaping his lips.\
"S-Sona-sama…" he breathed, the words a mixture of agony and worship. "Yes, Sona-sama."
Rias, in turn, shot a smoldering look over her shoulder at Issei. Her gaze was a physical touch, a jolt of pure electricity that went straight to his groin. It was the same look she'd given him while she was on her knees for Kiba. A look that said, This is for you.
She didn't have to say the words. The message was clear.
Matsuda and Motohama didn't need a third invitation. They didn't stop to question why. They didn't waste a second on the weirdness of it all. They saw four of the most perfect breasts in the known universe, offered up to them like a feast, and their higher brain functions shut down completely. The Perverted Trio, two-thirds strong, became a single-minded entity of pure lust.
They moved as one. They ripped their own clothes off with a speed and violence that was almost frightening. T-shirts were torn, buttons popped, and pants nearly tripped them up in their haste. They were naked in seconds, their bodies pale and their cocks already achingly hard, pointing toward the two girls like throbbing beasts.
Rias and Sona both took an involuntary step back. They had expected eagerness, maybe a bit of clumsy fumbling, but this was different. This was a raw, primal energy that took them both by surprise.
Motohama made a beeline for Rias. He launched himself at her, not with a kiss or a touch, but with his mouth open and aimed directly at her chest. He latched onto her left breast with a desperate, hungry suckle, his other hand flying up to maul the right one, his fingers digging in hard.
"H-hey! Not so hard!" Rias gasped, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain shooting through her. She hadn't expected such roughness. But Motohama was past hearing. His other hand, the one not molesting her breast, shot down to his own cock, and he started to jerk off with a frantic, desperate rhythm, all while he slurped and slobbered over her nipple.
Meanwhile, Matsuda went for Sona's rear. He didn't even bother with her breasts. He spun her around with surprising strength, bending her slightly over the desk. Her sharp intake of breath was cut off as he grabbed two handfuls of her firm, perfectly rounded ass, groaning as he kneaded the flesh like dough.
"Oh, Sitri-senpai… the ass… the ass is a masterpiece!" he babbled, his voice thick with saliva. He positioned himself behind her, his thick cock nestling into the cleft of her buttocks. He didn't try to enter her as he respected the 'no sex' rule, but he began to rut against her, sliding his length between her cheeks, the friction making him grunt with effort.
Sona braced herself on the desk, her knuckles white, her face a mask of shock. She could feel the heat of him, the slick trail of precum he was leaving on her skin. The sheer, animalistic nature of it all sent a jolt through her, a confusing mix of violation and arousal. She tried to maintain her composure, to be the Kaichou, but a traitorous moan escaped her lips.
Issei's and Sanji's belts hit the floor almost at the same instant, the metallic clink lost in the sounds of heavy breathing and wet slurping. They fumbled with their zippers, their hands shaking with adrenaline and a sick, twisting anticipation.
Then, their own cocks were out. Hard. Aching. They wrapped their hands around their shafts, the familiar grip feeling foreign in this context. They stood side-by-side, a pathetic audience of two, their eyes locked on the debasement of their idols.
Issei watched Motohama's cock, a veiny, angry-looking thing that he was now slapping against Rias's pale stomach. He saw the way Rias flinched, but also the way her back arched just slightly. A guttural growl started in Issei's chest.
Sanji stared at Matsuda's hands on Sona's ass. He saw the way Matsuda's fingers dug into the firm flesh, the way Sona's hips bucked back involuntarily with each hard thrust against her. His face was a canvas of pure anguish, his brow furrowed, his mouth twisted into a silent 'o' of despair.
Their hands started to move. Up and down. A slow, almost tentative rhythm at first, matching the hesitant rhythm of their hearts.
But on the floor, things were escalating.
"Get down," Motohama grunted, shoving Rias backward. She stumbled, her legs tangling, and fell hard onto the polished wood floor with a thud that knocked the wind out of her. Before she could even protest, he was on her, straddling her chest. His heavy balls rested on her sternum as he grabbed her breasts again, mashing them together around his cock.
He started to thrust in earnest now, fucking her cleavage with brutal force. His hips pumped, his cock disappearing into the valley of her flesh, only to reappear slick with his own precum. His face was a grimace of pure concentration, sweat beading on his forehead as he stared down at her, not as a person, but as an object for his pleasure.
Rias gasped for breath under his weight. She was being used, treated like a thing. And something dark and hungry was waking up inside her. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, and saw only mindless lust. She saw Issei's friend's flushed face, the face of a boy she barely knew, lost in a perverted frenzy. And she remembered why she was doing this.
For Ise.
She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, a deliberate act of submission. With each upward thrust of Motohama's hips, the head of his cock bumped against her tongue.
Across the room, spurred on by Motohama's audacity, Matsuda's movements became more aggressive. He held Sona's hips in a bruising grip, pounding against her ass with punishing force. The slap of skin on skin echoed in the room.
SMACK!
His hand came down hard on her right buttock, leaving a bright red handprint on the pale skin.
"Ah!" Sona cried out, her body jolting forward.
SMACK! This time on the left cheek.
"Sitri-senpai's ass!" Matsuda panted, his voice a ragged mess of triumph and disbelief. "I can't believe it! I'm actually spanking the Student Council President! You're so much firmer than I imagined! And this view! Oh god!"
He squeezed her cheeks again, spreading them apart as he rutted against her harder.
This was it. The tipping point. For both watchers and watched.
Issei and Sanji's hands became blurs on their own cocks. The jealousy was a physical pain now, a hot acid burning in their guts. They saw Rias taking Motohama's cock between her tits, saw Sona being spanked like a common whore… and it broke something in them. Their strokes became wilder, more desperate. They were no longer just masturbating, no, they were punishing themselves. Punishing themselves for being cucks that made the women they admired so much slut themselves out to two perverts.
Rias saw it. She saw Issei's desperate face over Motohama's shoulder. She saw the frantic motion of his arm. And she leaned into the performance.
"Y-yes," she gasped, her voice breathy and submissive. "Use them… use my breasts with your big cock!"
Her eyes flicked to Motohama's shaft as it pistoned between her mounds. It was bigger than Issei's. Longer, thicker. The thought was a weapon.
"It's… It's so much bigger than Issei's!" she cried out, the words meant for one set of ears but heard by all. "God! Your cock is stretching my tits! It feels amazing! Don't stop! Fuck my breasts with your huge cock!"
Motohama let out a triumphant roar at her words, his hips bucking wildly.
Issei choked out a sob, his hand flying so fast it was a vibration. The humiliation, the visual proof that Motohama was more of a man than he was, was all too much. His balls drew up tight, a familiar pressure building at the base of his spine.
Across the room, Sona heard Rias's cries. She saw Sanji's pleasure-filled, agonized face. A spark of something ignited in her. She met Sanji's gaze over her shoulder, her own expression a mixture of defiance and desire.
"You hear that, Sanji-kun?" she panted, her voice tight with strain and a strange, newfound excitement. "He's so much rougher than you! Spank me! Spank my ass hard like you never could!"
The words hit Sanji like a physical blow. He let out a strangled cry, his entire body trembling as he jerked his cock with a renewed, almost violent fervor.
"A-ah! S-Sona-sama! S-sorry!" Matsuda blubbered, his eyes going wide as he realized just how hard he was spanking the woman who had the authority to expel him.
"Don't apologize to him, you idiot! Do it!" Sona commanded, her usual completely compsure shattered. She bucked her hips back against him, meeting his thrusts.
Matsuda needed no further encouragement. He brought his hand down again, and again, and again. Each slap was accompanied by a grunt from him and a sharp, keening cry from Sona. Her pale ass quickly turned a brilliant, glowing red.
"Motohama! Cum for me! Cum all over my tits!" Rias begged, her body arching off the floor as she shoved her breasts into his cock, and the pervert couldn't hold on anymore.
With a final, triumphant roar, Motohama slammed his hips forward one last time. His cock erupted. A thick jet of cum shot out, painting a pearly white stripe across Rias's face and into her open mouth. The next spurt hit her chin, then her neck, and then he collapsed forward, resting his weight on her chest as the last of his orgasm pumped out onto her already-drenched breasts.
"Sitri-senpai!" Matsuda yelled, his own control shattering at the sight of Sona's beet-red ass. He rammed himself against Sona's ass one final time, and his own cock spewed its load. Thick streams of cum splattered across the small of Sona's back, painting her in ropes of pearly white. He leaned against her, panting, his body spent.
The sight was the final straw for the two cuckolds.
Issei's hand became a blur. He stared at Rias's face, covered in Motohama's cum, at her heaving, cum-slicked breasts, and at the satisfied smirk on her lips as she looked right at him. That's all it took. His balls clenched, and with a strangled, desperate cry, his own orgasm tore through him.
"P-President...!"
Cum shot from the tip of his cock, splattering onto the polished floor in long, sticky strings. His knees buckled, and he almost collapsed, his body wracked with shudders as he emptied himself, a pathetic, humiliating puddle at the feet of the woman he desired.
Sanji's reaction was no less intense. He watched Sona's back arch as Matsuda's cum coated her skin, heard her final, shuddering moan, and saw her glance over her shoulder at him, her dark eyes filled with a cool, detached satisfaction. He let out a choked sob, a sound of pure pleasure. His hand flew, and a moment later, he was cumming too. A guttural moan was ripped from his throat as he added his own mess to the floor, his body trembling with the force of his release.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the collective panting of six people, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, Matsuda and Motohama came back to themselves.
Motohama scrambled off Rias as if she were on fire, a horrified dawning on his face.
"Oh my god! Rias-senpai! Your face! I-I-I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!" he stammered, looking at the mess he'd made with wide, terrified eyes.
Matsuda, too, backed away from Sona, holding his hands up as if he were approaching a wild animal.
"The desk! Y-Your butt! Kaichou, I am so, so sorry! Please don't expel us! We'll do anything! We'll clean the bathrooms for a year! We'll write a ten-thousand-word essay on the importance of respecting women! Just please don't kill us!" he babbled, his face pale.
Sona slowly pushed herself up from the desk, wincing slightly. Her movements were stiff, dignified. She reached for her discarded blouse, pulling it on with a studied calm that belied the scene. She didn't bother with the buttons, simply wrapping it around herself and tying the ends in a knot below her breasts. She turned, her cool gaze sweeping over the two terrified boys.
"The offer is appreciated, but unnecessary," she said, her voice level and devoid of emotion, though a deep blush still stained her cheeks. "You have completed your part of the bargain. You are free to go. My only stipulation is that you will never, under any circumstances, speak of this to anyone."
"Yes, Kaichou! Of course! Never!" they both yelped in unison.
Rias, in contrast, pushed herself up into a sitting position on the floor. She made no move to cover herself. Instead, she wiped a smear of Motohama's cum from her cheek with her thumb and looked at it with a thoughtful expression. A slow, lazy smile spread across her face as she looked up at the two boys.
"Don't worry about it," she said, her voice husky and sated. "You were just boys who were given a gift. A gift you… enthusiastically accepted."
She gave them a wink that made both of them blush to the roots of their hair.
"Now run along," she added, a hint of command in her tone. "And remember this feeling. This is what you get for good behavior."
Matsuda and Motohama didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled to gather their discarded clothes, nearly falling over each other in their haste. Dressed, they bowed deeply to the two girls, then to their friends, before practically fleeing the room, slamming the door behind them.
The click of the latch echoed in the sudden silence. The four of them were left alone in the aftermath.
Sanji and Issei stood, their pants still down, their cocks limp and sticky. The evidence of their shame was cooling on the floor at their feet.
Rias finally stood, her magnificent body on full display. She walked over to Sona and reached out, her fingers gently tracing the red handprint on Sona's juicy rear.
"They really went at it, huh?" She smirked, then glanced over at Issei and Sanji, "But, I bet it worked, right? Summon your Sacred Gear, Issei."
Issei nodded, focusing on his arm as the guantlet appeared again, and his eyes went wide. The gem was glowing once again, and as he flexed his arm, he felt even more powerful than before.
"Y-You're right! I... I feel like I can take on anyone!" Sanji muttered to his side, looking wide-eyed at his own Sacred Gear as he shook lightly from the power inside of him.
"Then, I suppose this was worth it," Sona muttered, giving Sanji a firm look, which made him tense, "It better have been to make me do all this for you!"
Despite her words, Sona was blushing lightly as she reached back and touched her raw ass cheeks.
"I-I... I guess I'll call them back to do it again sometime, if it worked so well," She muttered, her face flushing deeper, and Rias giggled at her words.
"I'll join you! And, Issei will be here to watch, won't you?" Rias teased Issei, who nodded rapidly with a flushed face.
"Y-Yes, Buchou! I'll definitely be here!"
The gates had been opened further, and Issei had no idea where his depraved fetish was about to bring him.
Chapter End
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed. I will post another chapter in a few days. There are 5 more chapters posted on Subscribestar.adult/Nappar