Mika waited in the middle of the living room, naked and submissive. Her eyes were wide and shining, locked on Makoto's, filled with a mixture of fear and devotion that made his pulse quicken.
Makoto moved fast. In one fluid motion, he pulled Mika into his lap, turning her so she lay belly-down across his thighs. Her perfectly toned ass was presented to him.
His hand shot up and came down with a loud, stinging slap. A sharp CRACK echoed through the room, so sudden that Yuna almost jumped, and Ayane let out a low whistle.
Mika's body seized. A strangled, high-pitched gasp tore from her throat. She went completely limp in his lap, trembling. For a long moment, the only sound was her ragged breathing.
A red handprint bloomed on her pale flesh. He didn't hit her again. He just let his hand rest there, a heavy weight on her ass.
"Tell me," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "What did you plan to put in that Secret Menu option, Mika?"
"Used panties," she choked out, her voice raw and shaky, muffled by his thighs. "A vial of my bathwater. A single unwashed stocking..." She took a deep, shuddering breath, her body trembling with the aftershocks of the impact and the thrill of her confession.
"Oh, really?" he purred, the sound menacing. "You want some random weirdo to get a hold of that instead of me?" His hand came down again, harder this time. The sound made her cry out. "What were you thinking?"
CRACK!
The sound was even louder, sharper this time. A raw cry tore from Mika's throat. Her back arched off his lap, her whole body convulsing. A new, angrier red handprint blossomed on her other cheek, a perfect matching set.
She collapsed back onto his thighs, whimpering and broken.
"No," she sobbed, her voice pathetic. "No, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to make us money." Her whole body was trembling. Tears began to soak into his pants. "It's all yours," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. "Everything of mine is for you. Only you, Makoto."
Ayane let out a long, low whistle. "Damn," she muttered, her voice a mixture of awe and envy. "Remind me to never get on his bad side."
Yuna just watched with a possessive glint in her eyes. She said nothing, but a small, satisfied smile touched her lips.
"You think you always have things in control, don't you, Mika?" he murmured, his voice now soft and gentle, in contrast to what he was doing. He stroked her reddened flesh, kneading it. "Trying to challenge me, to get me angry so you could be punished again. That was your plan, wasn't it?"
He didn't wait for an answer. His hand began to fall again in a quick rhythm.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The slaps came fast. Mika's body jerked with each impact. The whimpers and sobs were knocked out of her, replaced by sharp, choked gasps. She wasn't fighting. She wasn't even trying to speak.
She was just taking it, her mind shattered, her body a canvas for his rage. Her ass was an angry shade of crimson, a testament to his power.
Makoto stopped. His hand rested on the hot, stinging flesh, a heavy brand. In the silence that followed, Mika just lay there, trembling and broken. For a long moment, she said nothing. And then, a soft, wet chuckle escaped her lips.
"Yes, darling" she whispered, her voice raw and triumphant. She lifted her head, her face tear-streaked and ecstatic. Her eyes, when they met his, were shining with a wild, adoring light. "It was my plan," she breathed. "And it worked perfectly."
"You manipulating bitch," he grunted, his voice mixing frustration with admiration. He delivered one final slap.
CRACK!
The final slap was a punctuation mark. It wasn't as hard as the others, but it was loaded with weary, almost affectionate frustration. Mika let out a long, shuddering sigh. The last of the tension left her body, and she went limp in his lap.
Makoto leaned down and gently caressed her tear-streaked cheek. "Are you satisfied yet?" he asked, his voice now soft.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice raw and happy. "So satisfied." She closed her eyes, a serene smile spreading across her tear-streaked face.
"I should get a riding crop next time. This is hurting my hand, too." He said as he caressed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, a soft, purring sound rumbling in her chest. She turned her face, her lips brushing against his palm.
"A riding crop," she murmured, her voice dreamy. "I'd love that. Get a pink one for me." She drifted off, her breathing evening out, a blissed-out wreck in his lap.
Makoto looked up. Yuna was staring at Mika's bright red ass, a thoughtful expression on her face. Ayane was just staring at him, her eyes full of awe. "Holy shit," she mouthed silently.
He allowed Mika to rest for a while, then gently slid her off his lap, letting her land in a soft heap on the floor. "Pick up the panties I removed earlier and give them to me," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll put them in my collection too."
Mika didn't seem to notice or care that she was on the floor. She looked at the pile of her discarded clothes, her eyes still hazy. Then, with slow deliberation, she crawled over to them. She picked up the panties, the fabric small and flimsy in her trembling hands.
She crawled back to him, offered him the slightly damp panties with both hands, like offering a holy relic at an altar. "For your collection, darling," she whispered, her voice weak but happy.
Makoto took them from her, the fabric still warm. Mika watched him tuck them into his pocket, and a slow, blissful smile spread across her face. Her duty done, she curled up on the floor by his feet, her cheek resting on his ankle, and drifted back into a deep, satisfied sleep.
Makoto shrugged and leaned back on the couch, the intense energy of the moment dissipating as he checked the calendar on his phone. The shift back to reality was jarring.
"The Tokyo Anime Festival (TAF) is in three weeks, so we have less than two weeks to finish the costumes and get the photos ready for printing," he announced, his tone now that of a project manager.
He looked at Yuna. "When will our costumes be done?"
Yuna, who had been watching this entire exchange with possessive pride and clinical interest, snapped to attention when he mentioned the deadline.
"Less than two weeks?" she scoffed, the bossy general back in full force. "We'll be done in ten days. If you two idiots can manage to follow my instructions without getting distracted."
She glared at Ayane, who was still trying to discreetly suck on her bleeding thumb.
"The base garments for your Mitsuri and Mika's Nezuko are almost done," Yuna continued, her voice sharp and efficient. "My Shinobu will take a bit longer because of the butterfly haori. We need to start the wig styling and the prop construction by the end of the week."
She glared at Makoto, her eyes blazing with a familiar fire. "We'll be done when I say we're done, you damn slave driver! Stop distracting my workers and make yourself useful too! Go design a logo for our website or something!"