Makoto held Ayane's head against him and resumed his relentless fucking. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you." His eyes sparkled wickedly. "Are you sure you can keep up?"
A desperate gasp was all Ayane managed before he was inside her mouth again. This time, it's no surprise, just brutal assault. Her head thudded against the tank again, a rhythmic beat accompanying his thrusts. Her body went rigid. This wasn't teasing anymore. This was both a test and a punishment from him.
She couldn't keep up when his thick head kept poking the back of her throat. Her gag reflex was violent, throat convulsing around him, trying to reject even as her mind screamed for more. A pathetic whimper tore from her, a constant broken moan of someone pushed beyond limits.
Her hands flew to his wrists this time, grip frantic and desperate, nails digging in. Not a plea to stop, but to hold on, to not break, to endure the storm she'd invited.
She tried meeting his gaze in the darkness, her eyes streaming but wide, defiant, blazing with terrifying fire. "This is it," they seemed to scream. "This is the fight I wanted."
Makoto didn't let up. He fucked her face harder, faster, an animalistic rhythm, until he couldn't hold back. With a final groan, he shot his load down her throat, a hot, thick torrent.
Ayane's body convulsed as it hit her throat. Deep, involuntary swallows wracked her frame. She tried taking it all in desperate submission, but it was too much. Thick white cum spilled from her mouth's corner, running down her chin.
He pulled out, leaving her a panting, shuddering wreck. She collapsed against the tank, head lolling, breath coming in ragged gasps, like a beautiful, conquered mess.
For a long moment, only her choked breathing filled the air. Then came a soft, wet, triumphant chuckle. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth, wiping away the spilled cum. Slowly, deliberately, she licked it off her fingers.
"See?" she whispered, voice raw and impossibly smug. "I told you I could keep up..." She gave him a weak, wobbly, victorious grin."Round three... whenever you're ready, harem king..."
[Content Warning: There is some light watersport after this. Feel free to skip it if you don't like it.]
"Oh, that's nice. Your mouth has been promoted to my personal toilet now." Makoto said jokingly.
Pure shock crossed Ayane's face. Her victorious grin froze and faltered. Her eyes, blazing with arrogant triumph, went wide with horrified realization. This was the next level, the price of her boast.
For a fraction of a second, her resolve wavered. This was a line she hadn't considered. But then she looked at him. She saw the challenge in his eyes, the unspoken question: "Can you really keep up?"
"He's testing me," she thought. "Seeing if I'll break. But I won't." A slow, mad fire ignited in her gaze. She wasn't going to lose. Not after coming this far.
"Put your tongue out." Makoto said sternly while looking down at her. He was expecting her to chicken out, to run away, to say "it's too much" and stop them both from this sickening game.
But she didn't. Slowly, as if in a dream, she opened her mouth. Her tongue, slick with his cum and her saliva, slid out in a trembling, defiant offering.
"Don't waste any of it!" He sighed before letting out a stream of warm pee from his cock.
The stream hit her, a warm, salty torrent more overwhelming than his cum. She gagged instantly, body convulsing. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears of shock mixing with pee splashing her cheeks.
She tried to swallow, to take it, to conquer it, but the volume was too much. The hot liquid overflowed, cascading from her mouth, down her chin and neck, soaking her pajama. It was a complete violation, raw degradation beyond sex.
She choked. She sputtered. She drowned. But she didn't pull away.
Makoto smirked slowly as he gently ran his hands through her hair with a fond smile. "Geez, you stink and look like a mess, you sicko."
Ayane collapsed forward, her head hitting his stomach with a wet thud. She was a trembling, defeated wreck. She coughed in deep spasms that brought up watery trickles.
The sharp ammonia smell filled the small bathroom. She didn't answer; she couldn't. She just leaned against him, body boneless and quivering, breathing in ragged gasps. A pathetic whimper escaped her throat.
Makoto's eyes sparkled wickedly. "Go take a shower in there. I'll get you clothes." As he pulled away, Ayane slid to the floor. She sat there in darkness, soaked in his scent, her eyes wide and blank and empty, her cunt throbbing and dripping from humiliation and unwanted pleasure.
"...Okay..." she whispered, voice raw and impossibly small. That's the voice of a girl pushed to the edge of sanity and finding, to her shock and horror, that she loved the view.