[EN] The Perverted teacher is trying to corrupt me, and my fiancé has no idea #03 (Patreon)

<The Perverted teacher is trying to corrupt me, and my fiancé has no idea #03>

Opening the front door of her villa, Yoshino sank to the floor right where she stood. The sound of the heavy iron door closing behind her rang hollowly, like a sentence announcing her severance from the world. A house filled only with darkness and silence. This space, usually her sanctuary, felt like a strange, cold prison today. She sat blankly on the entryway floor for a while. The alien texture of the cheap makeup pouch in her hand constantly reminded her of the terrible reality she had just experienced in the car. She didn't even have the energy to lift her body. The fishy, revolting taste of Iwata's semen seemed to still linger in her mouth.

How much time had passed?

Yoshino staggered up like a zombie and headed for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror, she held her breath at her own reflection. A face smeared with tears and saliva, cheeks pale and drained of blood from fear and shame, and above all, pupils dilated and unfocused, lost between pleasure and humiliation. In that unfamiliar appearance, she saw the shadow of the lewd woman in the photograph. Like a madwoman, she stripped off her clothes and thrust her body under the shower. The hot stream of water battered her body, but the filthy sensation seeping deep into her skin would not wash away. Instead, the hot water only more vividly awakened the traces of Iwata remaining all over her body and the perverse excitement she had felt while submitting to him. She gripped the showerhead and scrubbed her body roughly. Even scrubbing until her skin turned red, it didn't feel like the dirty filth was washing away, but rather that the lewd desires hiding beneath her skin were being pushed out like grime.

After finishing her shower, Yoshino collapsed onto the bed wearing only a robe. The pattern on the ceiling seemed to spin. Her hand unconsciously groped for the handbag she had thrown in the entryway. And from inside, she pulled out the makeup pouch Iwata had given her. Unzipping the tacky pink pouch revealed it was full of cheap cosmetics she would normally never use. An eyeshadow palette flashing with pearl glitter, eyeliner as black as charcoal, false eyelashes, and lipstick as red as blood. She sat back in front of the mirror as if possessed. And with trembling hands, she picked up the cosmetics.

This isn't me. This is just an act. It is a mask for survival.

Brainwashing herself, she began to recreate 'that woman' from the photo on her own face. First, she spread the glitter-filled shadow widely over her eyelids. She drew the eyeliner sharply to the ends of her eyes, creating a coquettish cat-eye look. When she clumsily attached the false lashes, her gaze looked even deeper and more lewd. After muting her lip color with foundation, she drew the bright red lipstick much thicker and more exaggerated than her natural lip line. In the mirror, the neat and intellectual teacher Yoshino Fujii was no more. Only the face of a vulgar, erotic woman who wanders the streets at night, wearing cheap perfume, remained.

Finished with her makeup, Yoshino headed to the closet. Iwata's words lingered in her ears. 'Make it as slutty as possible. Like a bar girl.' Her hands wandered through clothes she usually wouldn't even look at. A tight-fitting black mini dress she had impulsively bought for a party with friends a few years ago. It was a garment with a plunging neckline and a back barely held together by a few strings. After some hesitation, she took it out and put it on. The dress exposed her body explicitly.

The deep neckline blatantly showed off her voluptuous cleavage, and the short hemline was perilously close to revealing the curve of her buttocks. It was closer to a layer of skin than clothing.

Looking at her completely transformed reflection in the mirror, Yoshino felt a strange sense of liberation. In this guise, she didn't have to live as Yoshino Fujii anymore. It felt like she could be free from things like morality, responsibility, and shame. This was not corruption, but a shedding of skin for survival. At that very moment, her smartphone chimed—ding. It was a text from Iwata.

It contained the name of an unfamiliar motel and a room number. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Then, as if making a resolution, she reapplied the bright red lipstick and left the house. Into the darkness of the night, she was crossing a river of no return.

Getting out of the taxi, Yoshino caught her breath for a moment in front of the motel entrance, where flashy yet tacky neon signs flashed. The murky air of the entertainment district, mixed with the unfamiliar night air, rushed into her lungs. The short, tight dress restricted her every movement, and the awkwardly high heels felt precarious, as if her ankles might snap at any moment. The blatant gazes of passersby stuck to her exposed legs and cleavage. The usual Yoshino wouldn't have been able to lift her head out of shame, but the current Yoshino was different. Hiding behind the mask of heavy makeup, she fell into the illusion that she was actually enjoying those gazes.

This was not corruption, but immersion into a new role.

Her reflection in the elevator mirror was still unfamiliar. Lips red as blood, eyes upturned lewdly, and a black dress barely covering breasts that looked ready to burst. This was her appearance for tonight. It was the role Iwata had assigned. With a ding, the elevator doors opened, and she walked down the hallway smelling of dampness to stand before the room number Iwata had given her. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

"Who is it."

A voice came from inside, sounding half-asleep but unmistakably Iwata's.

"...It is Yoshino Fujii."

As she answered, after a moment of silence, the door opened with a clack.

It was Iwata, wearing only a carelessly thrown-on gown, who opened the door. He scanned Yoshino from head to toe and smiled with satisfaction.

"Heh heh... You really went all out. Nice to see, very nice."

His lewd gaze seemed to lick every corner of her body. He pulled Yoshino into the room and immediately closed and locked the door. The room was lit only by a dim lamp, and the bedsheets were crumpled as if someone had been rolling around in them. The air was faintly mixed with the smell of sweat and semen.

"Take it off."

Iwata ordered briefly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Yoshino hesitated for a moment, but soon, as if resigned, brought her hands to the shoulder straps of her dress. Sliiide—the dress slid down to the floor, and her naked body was fully exposed under the dim light. What she was wearing was a black lace bra and panty set, with the front perilously open. It was something she had impulsively bought from an online shopping mall a few days ago but had stuffed deep into her closet, lacking the courage to actually wear it.

"Come here and sit between my legs."

Iwata tapped his thighs. Yoshino obediently walked over at his words and sat down between his legs, showing him her back. Her voluptuous, round buttocks pressed against his groin.

Iwata let out a rough breath, buried his face in the nape of Yoshino's neck, and inhaled her scent deeply. Then, blowing hot breath into her ear, he whispered.

"From now on, you're not a teacher bitch. You're a dog-like whore I bought with money. Do you understand?"

His hand undid the bra hook and roughly grabbed her massive breasts. Yoshino's body flinched at the sensation of the soft, luscious flesh being kneaded in his grasp. A hot heat surged in her lower abdomen once again.

"Yes, I understand..."

The answer that came out of her mouth was submissive enough to surprise even herself. Iwata let out a satisfied groan and turned her body to lay her down. Then he climbed on top of her body like a beast. What was about to happen in this room was now her new, irreversible reality.

Iwata's heavy body crushed Yoshino. His rough breathing, the smell of sweat, and the fishy scent of the semen she had swallowed earlier mixed together, paralyzing her senses. Like a beast, he chewed and licked the nape of her neck and her earlobes. Yoshino's body went rigid with humiliation, but wherever his touch landed, a sensation as hot as a burn flared up. Especially when his thick palms roughly grabbed her swollen breasts and twisted her nipples, a moan of "Ang" burst from her mouth before she knew it. The sound was unfamiliar and shameful, but at the same time, it made her pussy even wetter.

"Hmph... Not bad, you bitch. You pretended to be modest on the outside, but inside you were just a sloppy bitch."

Iwata burst into satisfied laughter and spread her legs. His gaze fixed on her crotch, damply soaking through the black lace panties. He rubbed the wet piece of cloth sluggishly with his finger.

"Look at this, you're already dripping like this. Did you like my cock that much?"

His vulgar words gnawed away at her reason and planted the primal instinct of a female in its place.

Yoshino turned her head away instead of answering. But her body couldn't lie.

As Iwata's finger dug into her panties and stimulated her clitoris, her back arched like a bow with a sharp moan of "Haaahk...!"

A sharp, intense pleasure of a kind she had never felt before shot up her spine to her brain. The boundary between shame and pleasure collapsed, and she simply gasped for breath, surrendering her body to instinct.

"Heh heh... I haven't even started yet and you're already going crazy."

Iwata, pleased with her reaction, took out his hard, erect member. He rubbed his glans sluggishly against the entrance of Yoshino's wet pussy. The entrance, glistening with love juices, twitched as if ready to accept him.

"Here, I'll carve clearly into that hole who your real master is."

Saying that, he thrust his hips deeply in a single motion.

"Kyaaaah!"

A tearing scream burst from Yoshino's mouth. The pain of her narrow, chaste inner walls being forcibly pried open and torn by Iwata's huge member pierced her entire body. But in the wake of that wave of pain, a wave of pleasure even more massive soon washed over her. With every movement piercing deep into her womb, her body reacted helplessly. She shook her hips in time with his thrusts, and lewd moans she couldn't believe were her own poured ceaselessly from her mouth.

"Haaang... Aah... More, harder... stab me...!"

The squeaking of the old motel bed, the wet friction of two bodies colliding, and Yoshino's moans mixed together to create an obscene symphony. Yoshino's eyes were unfocused and loose, and her heavy makeup was smeared with sweat and tears, running down grotesquely. Her reflection in the mirror was that of a single female writhing in pleasure under a male, completely corrupted. And in that image, she was feeling a terrible satisfaction, no longer disgust.

Yoshino's reason had long since been paralyzed. Her world was now entirely this narrow, damp motel room, and the only things dominating her body were Iwata's member and the primal pleasure he evoked.

"Haaht, hng, ah, ah!"

Words with meaning no longer came from her mouth. Only moans of pleasure and rough breathing filled the room, mixing with the sound of the creaking bed. Her legs were wrapped tightly around Iwata's waist, urging his movements to become deeper and more violent. Her sweat-soaked hair scattered over the pillow, and her heavy makeup was smeared with tears and sweat, spreading comically like a clown's.

Iwata looked down at the panting Yoshino with a conqueror's smile. The sight of the teacher, who pretended to be chaste and noble, howling like a bitch under him and craving pleasure was the ultimate aphrodisiac for him. He grabbed and kneaded Yoshino's massively swollen breast with one hand, while sweeping around her wet pussy with the other. As his finger crushed and rubbed her sensitively swollen clitoris, Yoshino's body trembled convulsively and her hips arched even higher.

"Hnggggh! I, I think I'm coming... No...!"

She screamed at the premonition of reaching the climax, but Iwata thrust his hips even more violently.

Finally, Yoshino's body stiffened like a bow and began to tremble violently.

"Kyaaaaaah!"

Along with a long, sharp scream, a hot fountain spurred from her pussy, drenching Iwata's lower abdomen and thighs. Yoshino's mind drifted far away with the intense spasms of her womb repeating over and over. Her body went limp, having exhausted all its energy, but Iwata did not stop. He thrust his cock even deeper and more fiercely into Yoshino's hole, which was pouring out love juices as if leaking urine.

"Kuh... You slut, you're just squirting a fountain!"

Iwata growled like a beast and put on a final spurt.

After a few violent thrusts, he too poured his hot semen into the depths of Yoshino's womb with a deep groan. The two bodies, covered in sweat, love juices, and semen, lay overlapped, gasping for breath. Yoshino's eyes were empty, staring at a stain on the ceiling, and her mouth hung slightly open, unable to make a sound. Like a person for whom everything had ended.

Iwata withdrew from her body with satisfaction and sprawled out next to her. He took out a cigarette, lit it, inhaled the smoke deeply, and blew it into Yoshino's face. Watching Yoshino cough, he smiled fishily.

"How was it, Teacher Yoshino. My cock is much better than the guy who's gonna be your husband, isn't it?"

Yoshino didn't answer his mocking question. No, she couldn't. She was simply submerged in the afterimage of the pleasure that had just swept through her body—humiliating, yet undeniable.

"From today on, you're my personal onahole. Whenever I call, you have to come running and spread your legs. At school, outside, wherever."

Iwata said, flicking cigarette ash onto the floor.

"And starting tomorrow, come to school with that face. Stop by this room every morning for me to inspect you personally before you go to work. Got it?"

His words were a new set of rules binding the rest of her life. Yoshino slowly nodded. Not a single tear flowed from her eyes. Her soul had already completely died in this dirty, damp motel room.

After the hellish night passed, it was the aching pain all over her body that woke Yoshino before the alarm. The insides of her thighs and the area around her vagina throbbed, and every muscle in her body screamed from the violent acts of the night before. The spot next to her was already empty, but the smell of Iwata's sweat, cigarette smoke, and the fishy scent of semen remained faintly in the air, suffocating her. She lifted her body, stiff as a corpse, and pulled together the cheap gown he had thrown at her last night. Today, she had to go back to school.

Her reflection in the bathroom mirror was disastrous. The makeup, ruined by tears and sweat throughout the night, was hideously smeared, and her bloodshot eyes were empty.

'Come to school with that face. Stop by this room every morning for me to inspect you personally before you go to work.'

His command hovered around her ears like an auditory hallucination. But it was impossible.

She couldn't stand on the podium looking like the whore she was last night. If she did, she would be socially buried by the gazes of her colleagues and students alone, even before Iwata's threats became reality. Yet, she couldn't return to her usual neat appearance either. That would be an act of open rebellion, inviting even more terrible retaliation.

Yoshino hesitated for a long time in this desperate dilemma. Her survival instinct frantically sought a way out in her mind. Compromise. That was the only way. An exquisite tightrope walk that maintained the minimum line as a teacher while satisfying the beast's dirty desires. She opened the makeup pouch Iwata had thrown at her last night. And looking back and forth between it and her usual pouch, she carefully began to create a 'new mask'.

First, she made her skin look a tone brighter and moister than usual. She disguised it to look healthy and vibrant, with a subtle glow as if she had just finished a shower. The eye makeup wasn't as radical as the night before. Instead, she spread a thin layer of beige eyeshadow with shimmering pearl glitter over her eyelids and extended only the ends of her eyes slightly with brown eyeliner to create a subtle cat-eye look. She curled her lashes dizzyingly high with a curler and applied mascara several times to make them long and voluminous like a doll's. The biggest change was her lips. Instead of the blood-red lipstick, she picked out a moist, shining coral pink lip gloss. As her lips became glossy and plump, they gave off a strange atmosphere—innocent, yet seemingly longing for a kiss.

Her outfit was the product of even more agonizing consideration. Yoshino pulled a tight-fitting, thin ivory ribbed knit top from deep inside her closet. It had a modest round neck, but the thin material nakedly revealed the outline of her breasts, which had grown massive from being roughly ravaged by Iwata's hands the night before. The silhouette of her nipples protruding clearly through her bra was rather more obscene than being naked. For the bottom, she wore her favorite black pencil skirt. But it was one size smaller than what she usually wore. The skirt cinched her waist and wrapped around the voluptuous curves of her buttocks as if compressing them. The wiggling motion of her hips would be blatantly visible with every step. Finally, she put on black stiletto heels with the highest, most dizzying heels she owned.

Having finished all preparations, she stood before the mirror in the entryway. The woman in the mirror was definitely Yoshino Fujii, but not the Yoshino Fujii of yesterday. A grotesque appearance where neatness and lewdness precariously coexisted. To students and colleagues, she would look like she just 'dressed up a bit today', but to Iwata's eyes, it was a calculated style that would read clearly as a 'token of submission'. She let out a hollow laugh at the version of herself she had created with her own hands.

When she arrived at school, a few colleagues who spotted her at the gate sent her puzzled looks.

"Oh my, Ms. Yoshino. Are you going somewhere nice today? You look so pretty."

It was a compliment thrown carelessly, but to Yoshino, it sounded like a dagger. She forced a smile and headed to the faculty office. Her heart pounded in time with her footsteps. And finally, she made eye contact with Iwata, who was waiting for her while pretending to read a newspaper at his desk.

A satisfied smile hung on the corners of Iwata's mouth. He hadn't thought Yoshino wouldn't come to the motel room last night, but he had been secretly curious about how she would appear at school. And the result before his eyes exceeded his expectations. He was even more excited by the fact that this innocent bitch knew how to use her brain. His lewd gaze scanned her glossy lips, the nipple marks protruding clearly through the knit top, and her buttocks wiggling with every step in turn. It was perfect. She had grasped his intentions exactly and 'commoditized' herself to offer to him in the way he wanted.

The moment Yoshino brushed past him to sit at her desk, Iwata whispered in a low voice that no one else could hear.

"You've become quite the excellent bitch. With those glossy lips, you'll have to suck my cock in the restroom during lunch."

Yoshino's body stiffened at his dirty whisper, but she nodded slightly without any change in expression. Her new day was beginning just like that.