[EN] The Perverted teacher is trying to corrupt me, and my fiancé has no idea #05 (Patreon)

<The Perverted teacher is trying to corrupt me, and my fiancé has no idea #05>

In the living room, where an awkward silence hung heavy in the air, Yoshino sat perched precariously on the edge of the sofa, her head hung low. Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap. Hayato Tachibana stood with his back to her, drinking water from the fridge, watching her reflection. Behind him, on the laptop screen sitting on the living room table, the video from earlier that afternoon played on repeat, muted. He had cleverly angled the screen so Yoshino wouldn't notice, but the faint glow cast shadows across his face, making his expression look ghastly.

"Yoshino." He finally spoke. His voice was low and settled into a cold chill. "Today... why did you do it?" The question was simple, yet loaded with a myriad of meanings. Yoshino's shoulders flinched. Without lifting her head, she answered in a voice as small as a mosquito's. "I'm sorry... Hayato... I... I couldn't help it..." Her voice was a mix of despair and resignation.

"Couldn't help it?" Hayato Tachibana smirked and walked toward her. He squatted in front of Yoshino, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. The moment he met her empty eyes, a fierce desire for conquest boiled up inside him instead of sympathy. "Did that bastard Iwata threaten you? Is that why you sucked his dirty cock?" His tone wasn't accusatory; it carried a strange nuance, as if he were merely confirming the correct answer.

Yoshino, bewildered by this unfamiliar side of him, nodded. She had hoped he would be angry, that he would comfort her. But his next words shattered even her last remaining hope. "But... your expression didn't look like you were forced." Hayato Tachibana stood up and deliberately turned the laptop screen toward her. On the screen, the image of her with Iwata's genitals in her mouth, tears streaming down her face, was playing explicitly. "Hngg!" Yoshino gasped.

"Look at this. Even while crying, your tongue is sucking that bastard's cock so deliciously." He paused the video at a specific moment. It was the instant Iwata's member was thrust deep into her throat. "Your body was honest. I saw it clearly—you twisting your waist in pleasure. Didn't you?" His voice was cold and cruel. He was no longer her fiancé. He was another observer, judging her corruption and finding pleasure within it.

"No... that's...!" Yoshino tried desperately to deny it, but her voice wouldn't come out. He was right. Her body had felt pleasure amidst the humiliation. That fact made her feel even more wretched.

Hayato Tachibana squatted in front of her again. Then, he whispered in her ear with a voice as sweet and cruel as a devil's. "Tell me honestly, Yoshino. It felt good, didn't it? Spreading your pussy for a man other than me, and for such an ugly, dirty guy at that, and sucking his cock... it actually turned you on. Didn't it?" He moved his hand over her thin knit top, gently caressing her breast where the nipple was clearly erect. Yoshino's body flinched at his touch.

"Keep spreading your legs for him from now on. Do whatever he tells you, even the filthier, more lewd things." His whispering continued. "And sometimes, report to me. Whether it's photos or videos... bring them to me. Understand?" He tightened his grip on her chin. "This is the only way you can be forgiven by me." His eyes were burning with desire. He was no longer hiding his ugly fetish. A final tear rolled down from Yoshino's eye. She was now completely alone.

Leaving Hayato Tachibana's house, Yoshino walked unsteadily, like a sleepwalker. The cold night air bit at her cheeks, but she couldn't feel a thing. Her mind was empty, and her heart felt as if it had stopped, stirring no emotion whatsoever. The cruel command from the fiancé who had whispered that he loved her. ‘Keep spreading your legs for him from now on. And report to me.’ Those words trampled on the last shred of her humanity. Now, she was not only Iwata's sex slave but also an object of voyeurism to satisfy Hayato Tachibana's perverse desires.

The moment she opened the door to her apartment and stepped inside, Yoshino collapsed on the spot. In the darkness, she didn't sob or scream. She simply stared into the void with empty eyes. For her soul, where even tears had dried up, despair was now a luxury. She mechanically lifted her body and headed to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror was utterly unfamiliar. Shimmering eyeshadow, long eyeliner, and coral-pink lip gloss remained, unsmudged. This grotesque and obscene mask, created to simultaneously satisfy Iwata's lust and Hayato Tachibana's voyeurism.

Yoshino pumped cleansing oil into her hand and roughly rubbed her face. The cosmetics mixed into a mess, running down like black tears. But no matter how much she scrubbed, the traces of humiliation that had seeped deep into her skin would not wash away. The sensation of her nipples standing erect against the thin knit, the movement of her buttocks jiggling under the tight skirt. It was all branded onto her body. She frantically stripped off her clothes. As if shedding this dirty shell would allow her to return to her original self, like a snake shedding its skin. But in the mirror, there stood only a stranger with empty eyes.

Collapsing onto her bed, Yoshino stared at the ceiling. The texture of sucking Iwata's dirty genitals, the disgusting feeling of his semen sliding down her throat, and the glistening eyes of Hayato Tachibana, who watched it all with excitement through the lens. The two gazes intersected, pushing her into a perfect abyss. To whom did she belong now? Was she Iwata's? Was she Hayato Tachibana's? No, she belonged to no one now. She was just a soulless doll abandoned at the intersection of two men's twisted desires.

Her hand unconsciously reached for her smartphone. When she turned on the screen, the wallpaper—a photo of her and Hayato Tachibana smiling brightly—caught her eye. She looked happy in the photo. She was full of hope for the future. Yoshino stared at the photo for a long time before opening the gallery app. And just as Hayato Tachibana had done, she found the 'evidence video' he had sent her and played it. Her own moans and the dirty voices of the two men flowed through the speaker. Watching the video, tears streamed down Yoshino's face.

The next morning, Yoshino opened her eyes without an alarm. Her body felt as heavy as lead, but her mind was strangely clear. The tears she had shed last night while watching the video of her own corruption were the final excretion of her emotions. Now, her interior was like a hollowed-out ruin. She mechanically rose from the bed and stood before the bathroom mirror. And just like yesterday, she began to create 'today's mask' to satisfy two men.

She put more effort into her skin than yesterday, creating a 'dewy' look that seemed to glow from within. It was to give the impression that the moist heat from a night of intense sex hadn't yet faded. Her eye makeup became deeper. She layered a pearl shadow with a hint of wine over the brown shadow used for shading, creating a dreamy yet erotic atmosphere. She drew her eyeliner out a little longer and sharper than yesterday, completing a cat-eye look that seemed ready to seduce anyone. The highlight was her lips. She spread a vivid, sparkling red tint from the inside of her lips like a well-ripened cherry, making them look luscious and plump, as if juice were about to burst out.

Her outfit crossed the line between modesty and obscenity even more precariously. For the top, she wore a thin, stretchy beige turtleneck sweater that revealed every curve of her body. The design covering her neck looked modest, but the thin fabric explicitly displayed the shape of her massive breasts, and the silhouette of her nipples protruding over her bra was more obscene than actual exposure. For the bottom, she wore a wine-colored H-line skirt close to the color of blood. It covered her knees slightly, but due to the tight design, the movement of her voluptuous buttocks was revealed with every step. The black stiletto heels, same as yesterday, felt like shackles symbolizing her new identity.

When she arrived at school, a different kind of gaze greeted her compared to yesterday. Yesterday's surprise had turned into familiarity, and the eyes of colleagues and students held a mix of curiosity, subtle contempt, and greed. She ignored all those stares and headed to the classroom. The first and second periods passed safely, or rather, numbly. And it was when the third period was in full swing.

WEEEEEEEEEE-!!!

Suddenly, a sharp fire alarm rang out through the entire school. Students began to murmur at the sudden situation. "It's a fire drill! Everyone evacuate to the playground quickly!" The shout of the Dean of Students came from the hallway. Yoshino was momentarily flustered but soon led the students out into the corridor. The problem started now. While descending the stairs swept along by the crowd, the dizzying stiletto heels threatened her ankles, and the tight skirt restricted her stride. She had to hold onto the railing and move precariously to avoid falling.

The entire student body and staff gathered on the playground. Yoshino found it hard to even stand properly as her sharp heels sank deep into the dirt. Her awkward and precarious appearance stood out, and everyone's eyes focused on her. Students giggled and whispered about her, and some fellow teachers clicked their tongues with disapproving looks. Hayato Tachibana was also watching her from afar with a complicated expression.

It was then. Iwata approached her with the face of a benevolent senior teacher. "Oh my, Ms. Yoshino! Are you alright? You'll be in big trouble if you fall in those shoes. You must be careful." He spoke as if worried and moved close to Yoshino's side. Then, as if losing his footing, he lurched heavily and fell toward Yoshino.

"Whoops!"

His large, thick hand grabbed precisely the center of Yoshino's buttocks. In front of hundreds of watching eyes, his hand kneaded the flesh of her voluptuous ass lewdly before falling away. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. I have no energy because I'm old." Iwata apologized nonchalantly and picked himself up. But his eyes were glistening with obvious triumph and a desire for conquest.

Yoshino's mind went blank. Time and space seemed to freeze. Hundreds of eyes were alternating between her and Iwata's hand that had grabbed her butt. The murmuring grew louder, and now blatant sounds of ridicule could be heard. She stood frozen on the spot, unable to say or do anything. She just blankly listened to the sound of her social reputation shattering into pieces. The signal announcing the end of the drill rang, and the students and teachers ebbed away like the tide, but she stood there for a long time, unable to move.

Behind Yoshino, left alone on the playground, the empty school building stood like a ghost. The murmurs of the students and colleagues had already faded into the distance, but their gazes still felt like they were stinging her entire body. The sensation of Iwata's thick, sweaty hand grabbing her buttocks. That unpleasant feeling was etched onto her skin like a brand, making it impossible for her to take even a single step. It was too blatant, too intentional to be called a 'mistake.' And that act, in front of hundreds of witnesses, had turned her into a 'cheap woman who rolls her body around.'

When she returned to the staff room, the atmosphere was chilly. No one spoke openly, but the glancing eyes and secret whispers of her fellow teachers suffocated her. Especially in the eyes of the older female teachers, contempt and jealousy were mixed. A new female teacher who used to be modest suddenly started dressing sluttily, and eventually ended up being openly sexually harassed by a veteran male teacher. To them, Yoshino was no longer an object of sympathy. They thought everything was brought on by herself, that it was because her conduct was loose.

Yoshino sat in her seat, staring blankly at the monitor. She couldn't move a finger. The incident on the playground just now replayed in her head over and over. Iwata's sly face, his hand mashing her buttocks, and Hayato Tachibana's expressionless face watching it all from afar. He didn't run to her. He didn't get angry. He just watched everything like another audience member. That fact pierced Yoshino's heart most painfully.

"Ms. Yoshino." From the seat right next to her, Iwata's voice was heard. He was nonchalantly flipping through documents as if nothing had happened. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I lost my balance because of my age... I ended up putting you in a difficult spot for no reason." His voice sounded worried, but his eyes were smiling. He leaned his body toward Yoshino's ear and whispered in a low voice that no one else could hear. "How was it? Having your ass groped in front of the whole school, wasn't it thrilling? Hehehe... Your ass, it really felt like a masterpiece in my hand."

At his dirty whisper, Yoshino's body went rigid. Instead of answering, she just bit her lip. Then Iwata whispered again. "Come to my car after school today. I'll give you a very special punishment, so look forward to it." He laughed with satisfaction and returned to his seat. Yoshino closed her eyes. There was nowhere to run anymore. Her honor, her pride, her everything had been completely trampled and vanished on the dirt of the playground today. All that remained were humiliation and submission.

After school, Yoshino got into Iwata's car like a doll with its soul sucked out. He started the engine without a word and skillfully turned the wheel to leave the school. The scenery passing by the window no longer held any meaning for her. She just curled up in the passenger seat, numbly waiting for the next humiliation that would befall her. The car cut through the rush hour traffic and headed toward one of Tokyo's most flashy and busy districts.

Under the sky that had grown dark after sunset, dazzling neon signs began to light up the night. Iwata stopped the car in a secluded alley. He took a black plastic bag from the back seat and tossed it to Yoshino. "Change." His voice was cold and commanding. When Yoshino hesitated and opened the bag, it contained clothes that made her doubt her eyes. A black halter-neck crop top that revealed not only her cleavage but also dangerously exposed her navel. And denim hot pants so short that more than half of her buttocks were exposed. It was an outfit several times more explicit and vulgar than what she had worn to school.

"Now... here?" When Yoshino asked in a trembling voice, Iwata nodded as if annoyed. "Then where else would you change? Can't you change quickly?" At his shouting, Yoshino couldn't resist any longer. She began to change clothes, twisting her body precariously in the narrow car. When she took off the turtleneck sweater and put on the crop top, her enlarged breasts hung precariously on the halter-neck string as if they would pop out at any moment. When she took off her skirt and put on the hot pants, the flesh of her voluptuous buttocks spilled out from under the short pants, jiggling embarrassingly.

When all preparations were complete, Iwata got out of the car with a satisfied smile. "Alright, let's go." He ordered Yoshino to link arms with him. When Yoshino reluctantly hooked her arm through his, he grabbed her buttocks with one hand as if he had been waiting for it. Yoshino's body flinched at the lewd touch, but he didn't care and led her into the crowd of the busy street.

The Friday night downtown area was boiling with youth and desire. Countless people brushed past them, and their gazes invariably turned to Yoshino. A shabby middle-aged man in his 50s, and a woman in her mid-20s walking half-naked with her arm linked in his. It was not a normal relationship by anyone's standards. The eyes of the people contained blatant curiosity, contempt, and the certainty that 'those two are definitely having an affair.' In particular, the men's gazes lingered lecherously on her exposed cleavage and buttocks.

Yoshino couldn't lift her face due to the shame. She wanted to disappear from this spot right now. But Iwata's hand gripped her buttocks even tighter, refusing to let go. He seemed to rather enjoy the people's gazes. "How is it, Ms. Yoshino? Since you're wearing such slutty clothes next to me, everyone is staring. They think you're my woman, my bitch. Doesn't it feel good?" His whisper dug into her ear. Instead of answering, Yoshino bit her lip hard to hold back the tears threatening to burst out. Her dignity was scattering without a trace into the noise and flashy lights of the downtown streets.

Throughout their walk in the busy district, Iwata's hand never left Yoshino's buttocks. His rough touch felt through the thin fabric made every nerve in Yoshino's body stand on edge. The gazes of the people were stinging. A combination of a young, beautiful woman and a pot-bellied middle-aged man. Furthermore, the man was openly groping the woman's body, and the woman was being dragged along with her head hung low in shame. It was clearly not a normal relationship. Contempt, curiosity, pity, and the lewd stares of some men. Yoshino had to endure all those gazes with her whole body. It felt like it would be less shameful to be thrown onto the street stark naked.

"Haha, our Ms. Yoshino is very popular. Look at everyone staring."

Iwata seemed to be enjoying the situation. He whispered, breathing hot air into Yoshino's ear. His voice was a mix of satisfaction and mockery. Yoshino gritted her teeth. Anger and disgust surged up, but there was nothing she could do. She just moved her feet like a robot, arm in arm with him. Every time his hand pressed deep between her butt cheeks, Yoshino's shoulders flinched.

How long had they walked like that? Iwata suddenly stopped. The place he stopped was in front of a lingerie shop where flashy neon signs were flashing. In the show window, mannequins were wearing erotic underwear made of mesh or lace. When Yoshino looked at him in confusion, Iwata smiled lecherously and said,

"What do you think? Is there anything you like? I'll buy you one. From now on, you only wear things like this. Got it?"

At his words, Yoshino's face turned pale white. He wanted her to go into that crowded shop and pick out such embarrassing underwear? Just imagining it was terrible. As Yoshino hesitated, Iwata's expression hardened. He roughly grabbed Yoshino's arm and dragged her into the store. A young female clerk approached kindly, but Iwata didn't even glance at her and started scanning the underwear himself.

Iwata's hand stopped in front of a black mesh T-back panty and bra set. He picked it up, held it against Yoshino's body, and nodded as if satisfied. "This is good. We'll take this." The gazes of everyone around focused on the two. An old pervert buying obscene underwear for a woman young enough to be his daughter. Yoshino felt like she wanted to die. Eventually, Iwata picked out several types of underwear, including a bright red lace slip and a garter belt, in addition to the black mesh set, and headed to the counter. Yoshino just followed behind him with her head bowed. At that moment, Yoshino felt her phone vibrating in her bag. It was Hayato Tachibana. But she couldn't answer the phone. No, she didn't want to answer.

Leaving the lingerie shop, Iwata handed the shopping bag to Yoshino and resumed groping her buttocks as they paraded down the street. Then, without hesitation, he entered a nearby motel. As soon as they passed the dim corridor smelling of must and entered the room, Iwata roughly pushed Yoshino onto the bed. He loosened his tie, breathing heavily.

"Haa... You were killer today. It was hard work acting like my bitch in front of people, wasn't it?"

He undid the buttons of the blouse Yoshino was wearing as if ripping them off one by one. Yoshino's white skin and perky breasts were revealed. Iwata swallowed hard and grabbed her breast in one hand. Then he rummaged through the shopping bag, took out the black mesh underwear he had just bought, and threw it at Yoshino. "Here, change. I need to see you moaning under me wearing these whore-like clothes." His eyes glistened with lust. Yoshino, as if resigned to everything, began to change clothes with trembling hands. Tomorrow was Saturday. There was no time to escape from him. The long, long night was just beginning.