Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Putting Ichigo to Work	By : c0p13r Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 4213 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘BLEACH’ nor do I make money off of this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-To Punish
- 2-Broken
- 1
- 2
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He was absent. Another day, he was absent. Unagiya Ikumi could not keep this pace by herself, she thought scornfully as she frantically sifted through the requests sent to her by eager clients. Calls were coming in from those who still needed work to be done, asking if they were still on the list of customers. It was becoming too much for her.
When there was a lull in her stressed-out work, she fell onto the sofa, groaning and dropping her head back to stare at the ceiling. Kaoru would probably come in sometime soon, looking for a meal, and afterward, it would be straight back to the grind of trying to catch back up with her work. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had the extra help, if she had the one she hiredfor these occasions especially. She shouldn’t have to be wondering where he was when he should be there. She was a mother of one, not two.
“Where is that brat?” she grumbled. She took off her cap to massage her throbbing temple. After she set her hat back on, the phone rang again with the influence of a sledgehammer against an anvil. She rose to her feet, snarling the name of the employee that had left her to dry.
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Ichigo sneezed suddenly. Keigo looked over at him from the arcade game he was playing. “You catching a cold, Ichigo?” he asked quickly, turning back to the game when his character was under siege by Mizuru’s character.
Sniffling, Ichigo rubbed his nose. “No, but I am getting chills,” he said, a sixth sense for danger telling him that someone was cursing him and plotting. He looked around. Was a thug closing in on him? His cell phone suddenly rang, making him almost jump out of his skin. He pulled out the cell and answered without even checking the ID. “Hello?”
“Ichigo, where the hell are you?!” It was Ikumi, furious that he was once again ditching work. “The Unagiya is packed with assignments, and you’re not at work! Unless you want me to fire you, you’d better show up here NOW!!”
Ichigo was holding the phone several inches from his ear to prevent temporary deafness. He rolled his eyes; she always made this threat. When he was sure that she was done ranting and was waiting for his next words to be ‘I’ll be right there’, he responded. “Well, I was actually planning to take the day for myself,” he said dully. “I have a lot of homework, and I’ve been slipping in my grades. But if it’s absolutely necessary, I understand. I guess I should start searching for another job.” He waited, knowing that his bluff would be taken seriously.
On the other side of the line, he could almost make out the sound of her grinding her teeth and imagined how furious she probably looked. “Listen, Ichigo-chan,” she began, trying her best to sound sweet even while so stressed out, “you won’t have to look for work if you just come to help out… like you’re supposed to.” Her temper got the better of her. “If I have to, I’ll drive around town to find…!”
“Save the gas, Ikumi-san,” Ichigo said, ending the call then and there. True, he did need to study and do some class assignments, but for the time being, he was spending time with friends, lest he wanted to have Keigo bombarding his phone with desperate calls to hang out. With the phone turned off and tucked securely in his pocket, he went back to loitering while sipping on a soda. Not surprisingly, Keigo flipped out when he lost the match against Mizuru.
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With nothing but the dial tone in the earpiece, Ikumi slowly lowered her head, eyes cast in the deep, ominous shadow of the rim of her cap. The phone was docked. For a while, she just stood there in her own humiliation. And then she came back to herself. Fixing her gloves on her hands, her heavy boots stomped towards her apartment door. She opened the door and went to the room where Kaoru was watching television and eating the meal that she had made for him minutes ago. Despite her vengeful mood, she set up her motherly façade when addressing her son. “Kaoru-chan, Mommy has to go out for a little while,” she said sweetly, picking up her van’s keys. Looking up from his program of transforming robots, Kaoru asked if her dummy helper was with her. “Mind your manners, Kaoru-chan. If I am not back before dark, be sure to brush your teeth and go to bed, or you’ll be in trouble.” She emphasized with a wagging finger. “And Ichigo…” The grip on her keys tightened at the mention of his name. “He’s not here, but I’m going to work.” She turned about and briskly headed for her vehicle. The phone was ringing; more business to pile up, no doubt. For now, she would ignore it, finding that the one to pay for the lost patronage would be Ichigo…
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Ichigo departed from Mizuru and a weeping Keigo near dusk; Keigo had spent all of his funds trying to best some dark, blonde guy who was apparently a master at video games. Perhaps they stayed out too late, Ichigo thought, but if Keigo was crying this much about separating even after spending the majority of the afterschool day together, he probably would’ve screamed bloody-murder if Ichigo actually hadgone to work. “See ya later, Mizuru, Keigo,” he grumbled with a raised hand.
“Bye, Ichigo.” Mizuru smiled pleasantly, though he struggled to hold Keigo back.
“But, Ichigo! There’s still so much time we could spend, so much more we can do!” Keigo wept while being tugged towards his home. “Come over! We can watch a movie at my place, play the new game I got for PS3! My sis is at work! We have to take advantage of my free time! Ah~!!” He screamed his sorrow.
Ichigo just watched dully as his friend made a terrible scene while being pulled beyond a building’s corner and out of sight. “See you tomorrow, Keigo,” he grumbled, heading to his own respective home, where he’d probably have to put up with similar theatrics from his father. He took the long way home, if only to enjoy the nighttime scenery of downtown. He passed by a donut shop where a magenta-haired, pigtailed girl was making an absurdly large order while a butler-looking man stood with her, ready to make the purchase for her; must’ve been her dad, Ichigo vaguely figured.
“Kurosaki-kun!”
Ichigo perked up and looked to the bakery. In between buildings, throwing out stale pastries, Inoue Orihime beamed at him. Dressed in her work attire that accented her attributes – probably a ploy to bring in male customers – she hurried out to say hi to Ichigo; he tried not to actually notice the way her bust bounced when she jogged. “What are you doing here, Kurosaki-kun?” she asked, happy to see him, even if they had just spent a day in class together. She went slightly red. “Did… did you come all the way here to buy some bread at my work?” She giggled nervously, finding it terribly sweet of him to think of her and to come all this way just to see her.
“Uh, no,” Ichigo replied, smiling slightly, not noticing the falter of Orihime’s smile. He gestured down the path he had just come from. “I just came from the arcade with Keigo and Mizuru.”
“Oh, but I thought Tatsuki-chan said that you had work today,” Orihime said, looking skyward with a fingertip on her chin.
The mention of work made Ichigo tense. Maybe he should have stuck to that. He laughed a little, admitting that he didn’t act responsibly by taking the day off. For some reason, he felt strange to disappoint Orihime, like it made him feel low. With her eyes staring concernedly right at him, he gestated. “Uh, my boss is kind of lenient,” he explained. “I’m sure she’ll overlook… one absence.” He felt even worse lying to her.
Orihime’s cheerfulness returned. “That’s good, Kurosaki-kun. My boss is nice, but…”
“Orihime, get back inside!” the owner of the baker shouted to her from the front of the store. “We need to get started on a new batch of donuts! That girl just cleared us all out!” He gestured to the girl haughtily marching down the street, munching on a glazed donut while her butler-father carried a high stack of pink boxes.
Apologizing, Orihime ran back to the shop. “Sorry, Kurosaki-kun! I’ll see you tomorrow! Um, take care!” She waved at him shyly, but was yanked into the store by the burly owner.
The perfect job for her, Ichigo mused with a smile – all the food she could eat. The perfect job; the worst environment. He wished her luck as she went to work setting out more donuts at a rushed pace. Once again, he headed towards home.
The streets were barren in this part of town; the only people Ichigo saw were a pair of older guys, both with black hair, though one looked elegant and poised while reading a novel and the other appeared to be a thug with a leather, black jacket; the latter seemed to have been watching Ichigo with a wicked grin. Ichigo pretended not to notice since eye contact between supposed-thugs never ended well, and he didn’t want to have to beat someone up.
The screech of tires alerted him, making him believe that some drunk driver was loose in these empty streets. However, when those headlights came at him, and he could see the van, his blood ran cold. The brakes were slammed on, and the white automobile blocked his path. Like a deer caught in headlights – which was very much the case – he could not move. The side door slid open, and Ikumi’s eyes glowed like demonic fireballs above her evil smirk.
“Found you, Ichigo-cha~n…”
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Ichigo figured that he should’ve been used to it: being treated like a kidnapped victim. This time, Ikumi even went the extra mile and put tape over his mouth. She normally at least let him complain as she took him to her place. The most terrifying part about it had to be her driving skills; she drove like a maniac when upset, and he wasn’t even strapped down. He rolled around, thudding against the sides of the van like a worthless bit of luggage. When she came to the final stop, it was abrupt, and the stopped momentum flung Ichigo face-first into the dashboard.
“That’s what I like to see, Ichigo-chan,” Ikumi snickered while snagging the back of Ichigo’s collar. “Initiative.” She pulled her dazed employee out, hoisted him over a shoulder, and took him up the stairs. Halfway up, Ichigo collected his senses and tried to shout at her; she must’ve been annoyed with his muffled grunts because he hit the side of the doorway, which was too hard of an impact to be accidental. And then he was tossed onto the sofa. He rolled onto his back, scowling at his boss. Though he was glaring daggers at her, she approached him and surprisingly and purposely fell over him; his first notice was the swaying of her breasts as they settled against his chest before he stared into her eyes. She was still smirking in that malevolent way that made him fear for his soul. But… why was she pretty much crawling over him?
“You should’ve listened to me, Ichigo-chan.” She spoke in sultry voice, hot and low, breathy against his face. He felt her hand graze his abdomen, ruffling the portion of the shirt underneath the tape binding his arms to his body. “I’m tired of it,” she told him, and the hand came up swiftly to painfully yank away the strong duct tape, and as he exclaimed from the agony of it, she said, “Now what’s you explanation? Just what were you doing that was so important?”
Ichigo adjusted his lips, a tear in his eye from the stinging of around his mouth. She sat back, folding her arms and awaited the unsatisfactory excuse. When facing her, at her mercy, it was hard to lie. His pupils wandered to the lower corner of his eye. He mumbled quietly, ashamedly, “I… was with… my friends…” He swallowed hard, able to see the anger visibly swelling in Ikumi’s eyes. His eyes narrowed fearfully. His voice was a whisper. “… At the arcade.”
Ikumi retaliated with a furious swat to the side of his head. “You left me to pick up all the slack that I hired youto help me with?!” She looked like she could just about strangle the teenager, and for a moment, Ichigo believed that it was his fate to die there. She was trembling with rage, yet she slid off of him, turning her back to him. “You’ve skipped a full month, and I had to drag you into work last week,” she growled. She was reaching a boiling point while reflecting on the workload she had to do by herself earlier. When it seemed like she was going to erupt, she suddenly went still. Ichigo could only describe that frozen moment as creepy. Her head dropped. “It’s a lot of stress…” Was she talking to herself? She looked back at him, said nothing, and headed for her apartment.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to work off some stress,” she told him, and then added that she was going to check on Kaoru; she said nothing of her plans for her captive. The door shut, and Ichigo waited a few seconds before trying to wriggle free; he succeeded only in falling flat on his face. Even with all his strength, he couldn’t tear the many layers of tape securing his arms. As expected of Ikumi, she didn’t slack off even when it came to immoral acts.
Ikumi returned in three minutes, quietly announcing that Kaoru was fast asleep; even so, she unexplainably set the latch to prevent anyone on the inside the apartment from wandering in. In her left hand, she held a purple box, not unlike a shoebox, only smaller. She smirked at Ichigo when she noticed him taking a glance, setting the object to the side on her work desk and stating that the contents were to be used later. “I have a job for you, Ichigo-chan,” she said in a way that he did not like. She didn’t even comment on how he wound up on the floor. She sauntered over to the office door, locking it also. “If not for you, I would not be so worked up.”
Ichigo managed to sit up to frown at her. “You’re always worked up. That’s what happens when you get old,” he pointed out to take an old phonebook to the face. Flustered, he shouted at her, saying how the hit hurt.
Ikumi’s heavy boot slammed down on his chest, pinning him to the floor. She leaned on the foot as he squirmed pitifully beneath her. Her wolfish grin was present on her face underneath the shadow of her cap. “You’ve upset me, Ichigo,” she stated, watching his Adam’s apple bob when he gulped nervously. “Now you must own up to it. That’s what it means to be responsible.” More weight was applied to the foot, making Ichigo groan from his flattening ribcage.
“Okay,” he conceded in a strained voice. “I’ll come in early tomorrow. We’ll get to work right… ahgn!” He was cut off when his chest was intentionally compressed.
“You don’t seem to understand, I~chi~go-cha~n,” she replied in a singsong tone. At last, her boot slid off of him, and he took a deep breath to relieve his stressed lungs. She bent deeply at the waist, her dangling breasts catching his attention briefly. “I’ve my own assignment for you. Not only will it relieve some of my stress…” She grabbed Ichigo by the shirt and tossed him back on the sofa. As he collected himself, Ikumi leaned in close again, holding him firmly by the shoulder. She went on, “It will also teach you your place.”
Why were her fingertips tantalizingly running along his cheek, tracing his jaw? The tingly feeling was foreign, and felt good. His teeth chattered when a chill took him. There was something in Ikumi’s gaze, something that replaced anger. What was it? Before he could piece together the odd jigsaw of a situation, he found his mouth suddenly sealed by his manager’s. The first kiss was soft, fleeting; the second was much bolder, and was forced on him with bruising force.
When the kiss broke, and he was given a chance to speak, he recoiled, cheeks aflame and heart catching up on the beats it skipped. “Ikumi-san, what are you mmph?!” His eyes went wide when a new strip of duct tape was slapped over his mouth. He frantically writhed with new vigor while Ikumi licked her lips to savor the taste. Her hands were set on his thighs, kneading his tense muscles.
“Ichigo, you’ve been acting like a child,” she told him. Her grip slid nearer to the area he hoped for her not to tread. “I’ve decided; you must be punished.” The words were still sinking into Ichigo’s frizzed mind when something new alarmed him, making him almost jump out of his skin. His eyes went down, unable to believe that Ikumi had actually cupped his crotch. She massaged him, though she hadn’t the liberty to grope him as thoroughly as she would’ve wanted, intending to see how Ichigo would react to her literally having him by the balls. As if experimenting, she squeezed roughly, earning a cry of warning from the teenager. She chuckled in her throat when her shaded eyes regarded his.
Without warning, his belt’s buckle was fumbled with until the support became slack. He fidgeted to try to discourage such boldness, but Ikumi’s hands were already fastened at the front of his trousers, unclasping the button and tugging the zipper down at a teasing pace. When his fly was successfully undone, she lurched upward and tugged down the collar of his uniform before clamping her front teeth at Ichigo’s collarbone. His shout was stopped behind his taped-shut lips when he was given a harsh bite that almost broke the skin. Ikumi kept her teeth latched in his flesh to ensure a significant marking. When she was satisfied, she took her mouth away and eyed her work. She had been very close to drawing blood, she mused while fingering the sore, red blotch.
Ichigo was breathing raggedly through his nostrils. A slight touch on his chest could confirm that his heart was racing a mile a minute. Ikumi snickered at how winded he was already. Her hand moved lower, taking time to touch the muscles hidden underneath his shirt, the muscles that she believed could be useful for her manual labor. A pity that Ichigo chose to waste his talents by slacking off with friends at the arcade…
Ikumi pushed the hem of Ichigo’s shirt up, exposing his navel and the top of his pelvic region. Again, a slew of incomprehensible syllables were held back. She simply rolled her eyes and waited for him to tire of this fruitless endeavor. Jeez, even tied up and gagged, he was stressing her out. When his struggling diminished – either from exhaustion or the realization that it was fruitless – she grinned up at him while hooking her thumbs through the belt hoops on either side of his pants, and, much to his courtesy horror, began to tug down his trousers. His boxers did not come down as freely, but they were disheveled during the drop of his pants.
Ikumi tugged his pants down to his knees, and then eyed his boxers. No tenting; his male urges were probably being suppressed by his fear and anxiety, or he leaned more towards the same sex. Her palm ran over his crotch, noticing that there was sturdiness to his hidden member; it must’ve been the former theory. She kept the exploration brief, wanting to wait for the unveiling to size him up. She hadn’t the patience to wait long. Fingering the elastic waistband of his striped undergarments, she started to bring them down, revealing his orange happy-trail leading to the curls at the base of his cock…
His thick cock, Ikumi specified mentally. He was larger than Kaoru’s father for sure. She bunched the undergarments also at Ichigo’s knees, revealing his crotch entirely. The exposure caused a reaction in him, despite how he tried to fight against it. His prick pulsated. Before more blood could be pumped through the stem, Ikumi delicately gripped it by the base, squeezing a little to coax the blood flow.
Ichigo could fight the modest fight, but hormones were hormones, and eventually, they won out in the end. The dick came to life and surprised Ikumi by reaching a full nine inches of thick flesh. She pumped him a little, gleaming up at him to watch his expressions play across his face as she nuzzled his shaft affectionately. Without a word, her tongue branched out and ran along the underside. It had been so long since she tasted a man, having given oral sex to Kaoru’s father on very few occasions; this, of course, was a veryspecial occasion, as she had not been this roused since before Kaoru was born.
Damn, he was weak-willed; Ichigo chastised himself for having such a disloyal member. He curled forward with a shudder and a moan when Ikumi’s gloved fingertips brushed over the sensitive skin of his scrotum. She kneaded the contents carefully at first, and then squeezed painfully. When he made a sound like a yelp, she reminded him not to enjoy himself toomuch. As if to contradict the warning that this was punishment, she sealed her lips over the tip and suckled. There was a faint texture of fluid, reviving the taste of pre-cum to her taste buds. She moaned softly and sunk down a little deeper, though she couldn’t bring herself to go past three inches, being out of practice for so long.
Ichigo – chivalrous, he may be – could hardly call this treatment ‘punishment’. It was against his will, and he was bound and gagged, yet Ikumi’s warm mouth was worth it. While she was at it, why not also give him a ticket to Disneyland? His head fell back with closed eyes when Ikumi dared to take him a bit further, causing his cockhead to bump against the back of her throat. Determined to force herself past the halfway point, she opened her esophagus, screwed her eyes shut, and wedged down further. Immediately, her gag reflex kicked in, bringing tears to the corners of her eyes while she immediately pulled back. She coughed and gasped, breaking the trails of spit that ran from her lips to his cock. As she recovered, Ichigo looked off to the side, wishing that he could apologize even though he had nothing to be sorry for; not like he put his hand on her head and forced her down on it.
Steadying the convulsions of her lungs, Ikumi took a deep breath to relax her. The grin she flashed Ichigo was full of ill-intent. “I hadn’t expected Ichigo-chan to be so well-endowed,” she mused, much to his embarrassment. Gripping him, she rolled her tongue over the swollen head for his viewing pleasure, and then dipped down lower. A muffled groan responded to her wet tongue sliding over his testicles, suckling gently on one before taking the other into her mouth. The sensation was mind-numbing, and Ichigo believed himself to be in a sadistic side of heaven – if such a place actually exists. But that feeling ended when Ikumi burrowed much lower than what he was comfortable with.
With his scrotum over the bridge of her nose and eyes locked with his wide, frantic ones, Ikumi had daringly put her mouth to the tight entrance behind his crotch. Her tongue swirled around his anus, prodding it teasingly from time to time. She could feel him clench in an effort to dissuade this venture, but her tongue was determined to slather his asshole with slick saliva. It tickled, Ichigo admitted with a persistent, cold sweat running down his face; it tickled, but in the most uncomfortable way imaginable.
Ikumi brought her glistening lips away from his ass, exhaling in satisfaction while wiping the back of her arm underneath her mouth. She bent forward slightly, large breasts soft on his thighs. “Are you still enjoying yourself?” she asked him. Not waiting for an answer, her left hand – after having the glove removed – slipped between his thighs, underneath her chest, and before Ichigo knew it, her middle finger had punctured his now-wet hole. He threw his head back, screaming behind the tape as the digit purged his ass. She chuckled at his reaction, continuing to wedge deeper into him until she reached the back wall of his colon, noticing the slight swell indicating his prostate. She massaged it forcibly to put appropriate pressure on it; his body convulsed in response.
Ikumi, satisfied that Ichigo was squirming so pitifully now, lowered her mouth on him again. She bobbed slowly, not wanting to get him too excited right away. Her tongue dabbed up all the transparent fluid beading from the slit of his cockhead. Much more was being produce, indicating the height of his arousal. If she didn’t take care, she would find herself with a mouthful of spunk.
Ikumi pulled her mouth off of him and decided that she had given more than enough head for Ichigo to be ‘satisfied’ with. Her finger also withdrew from his offended derriere, which allowed him some relief from the awkward pleasure. She had more in store for Ichigo and wouldn’t want him to surprise her with an unrestrained, surprise shot in the mouth; she disliked the taste and texture of semen. She came to her full height in front of Ichigo, standing against the light and making her seem that much more ominous. The lump in his throat was attempted to be swallowed again. He wished she could’ve at least taken off the hat while staring at him so. Something about how it made the area of her eyes so dark was frightfully intimidating.
Her gloved hands went boldly to her golden belt buckle. She loved how Ichigo cowered while keeping his eyes on her. “Don’t be so scared, Ichigo-chan,” she consoled him in her malicious tone. The belt came away with the swiftness of a cracking whip. “No one can here you scream with that tape around your mouth, so no one will come in.” Did she intentionally mean to sound like a kidnapper?! Slickly, she moved her tight pants down, and Ichigo couldn’t help gawking at her creamy thighs. His cock throbbed in anticipation, needing contact, stimulation, closeness. He embarrassedly raised his sights to her crotch, still clothed with black underwear.
Why couldn’t she have just revealed it all at once, Ichigo’s frantic mind whined, wanting this ordeal to be over with for two reasons: it would have been quick, like taking off a band-aid, and he also desired to see underneath those black panties. Fortunately, Ikumi had decided not to be too cruel, descending the undergarment to bunch with her pants above her boots. She didn’t want to take off her footwear – feeling more powerful with them on – but it would be an easier venture if they were removed, she kicked them off and brushed them to the side with a sweep of her foot, taking off her lower clothing entirely.
From the moment it was exposed, Ichigo could not take his eyes off the first snatch he laid eyes on that wasn’t on paper or Keigo’s computer screen. It was somehow even lovelier in person. Unconsciously, he raised his hips in an attempt to meet her sex, though she wasn’t even above him yet. His mindless desperation was noted, making Ikumi lick her lips victoriously. Oh yes, he would pay…
She straddled him, moving slow and carefully, keeping her hips elevated above him just so his cock could feel the heat coming from her. He made a hapless jerk to try to spear her, but he could not aim properly with his cock bobbing so freely; he slipped away from her moist hole and simply bumped into her thigh. The whimper he made was adorable. Ikumi considered taking off the tape over his mouth, if only to have the freedom to kiss him, though she ultimately chose not to for fear that he would wake up Kaoru with his screaming.
She waved her hips over him, ready to seat herself on his member. Both she and her employee breathed unevenly; Ichigo struggled to gain the needed oxygen through his nose. “Be good, Ichigo-chan,” she breathed into his ear. Her hand slipped between them to grasp and direct his cock to her waiting snatch. The tip brushed through her dark pubic hair, running across her clit before finally nudging her hole. “Be good,” she repeated, “and you may enjoy this.” Her pelvis began to descend, her nether lips spreading around his girth. She had given birth, but after so long of being absent of a man’s touch, she felt incredibly spread over him as he impaled her.
She was so wet… and tight. Wet and tight! Ichigo groaned deeply, losing his virginity to the beautiful woman he worked for. It could’ve been worse; he didn’t know how, but it wasn’t something he’d regret – aside from being bound and gagged. Well, perhaps Keigo was better suited for this situation, or Mizuru, since both of them liked to brag and Mizuru did like older women.
Ikumi moaned in a way that Ichigo surprisingly would define as cute. She had taken five inches into her, raised her butt a little bit off of him, and then squeezed more of him into her, rocking her lovely hips to help with the insertion. It almost hurt when he was embedded entirely in her snatch, causing her to cringe with him bumping against the doors of her womb. She waited, adjusted, and then began to move, bucking back and forth at a steady pace.
Ichigo grunted huskily while Ikumi rode him, gradually increasing the tempo of downward thrusts. Eventually, his hips shot up to meet hers, their conjoined sexes wet and slick with her flowing juices. Despite her best endeavors, Ikumi was becoming quite vocal and her thrusts became more abrupt and haphazard. Her hands held onto Ichigo’s broad shoulders for support. In his ear, her breathy moans were hot and plentiful.
Her vaginal walls were contracting with her impending orgasm, and she was welcoming it until she felt Ichigo starting to give spasms beneath her with urgent cries. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly; damn it, he was warning her that he was about to gush. And she was so close, too… Reluctantly, she plucked her pussy up from his madly throbbing erection, much to his disappointment; he expressed himself with a muffled sob. He bucked his hips to call her attention, and despite the fact that she was also denied completion, Ikumi laughed at him, asking if he really thought things would end that easily.
Dazed and disoriented from the lost release, Ichigo was easily brought to his feet. Under Ikumi’s direction, he stumbled in his dropped trousers until he fell over her work desk, scattering a few papers. He tried to bring himself up, but Ikumi pounced on him, her face almost level with his as her hand pressed him down against the surface. “Look at all the work that has been piling up in your absence,” she hissed at him, her smirk vengeful. “Do you expect me to complete them all by myself, and still offer you employment?”
She stood up behind him, though her hand on his back kept him pinned down. His shirt was pushed up to better expose his taut ass. What was she plotting now, he worried while being forced to face the wall ahead of him. Smack! He cried out against the tape when her bare palm slapped against his right cheek, leaving a pink imprint on his flesh. She massaged the area, squeezing so that the impact area would sting a bit more. Her hand then slipped over to the other cheek, molding it with strong fingers. Then another slap was delivered to him, even harder than the first.
As Ichigo roiled from the pain, Ikumi bent over his heaving form. “I have a child, don’t forget,” she whispered to him. “I’ve had a lot of practice at spanking and disciplining boys who are naughty and don’t do as they’re told.” She moaned as she ran her tongue along the rim of his ear before drawing back.
Ichigo cringed while suffering several more swats to his ass, and soon, his slightly bronzed skin was turned red. Just the merest touch of her fingernails made him seethe in pain. It would probably remain sore all night and would make sitting through class rather unbearable. But… at least his punishment was over…
As if reading his mind and being humored by his ignorance, Ikumi laughed. “Don’t worry, Ichigo-chan. You’re almost done.” It was then that Ichigo noticed the purple box that Ikumi had brought in earlier. She pulled it over, removing the lid. From his vantage point, he could not see what the contents were, which added to the dread.
Ikumi held the dildo attached to the harness meant to be strapped about her pelvis. It was a gift from an inappropriately-playful friend from her time in college who jokingly said it was to help her get over her high school sweetheart. She hadn’t really put it to use since getting it other than those awkward times when she attempted it with various object while baby Kaoru slept. Well, this may not have been what it was intended for, but it was finally going to be put to use appropriately. She swallowed, somewhat intimidated by putting it on.
It was so different from underwear or bikini bottoms, with the positioning and clasps. The leather surface of the inside felt strange against her crotch, pressing so firmly against her erect clitoris and making her whimper softly. Now she simply had to adjust the straps on her hips.
Ichigo heard her fumbling around with something and was most alert when he heard clasps snapping together. What the heck was in that box? She reached inside it again to produce another item, this time holding it out for his inspection. A tube of lubricant? Well, that’s not good… Not much that lubricant was used for other than to make passage easier, and with how easy it was to slip inside of her earlier, Ikumi didn’t need it, and he doubted she was going to give him a crack at her ass… The color drained from his face when he felt the gooey substance be applied to his recently-invaded anus.
“A little something to help ease the pain,” Ikumi murmured, taking care to insert a finger into him to better spread the slippery fluid. Her finger left the hole, and he felt her breasts against his back. “I hope you’re ready.”
The blunt, rubbery tip bumped against his entrance, and though he clenched against it – an unwise move in hindsight – the lubricant helped the insertion. He tried to gasp as his anus was spread around the fake shaft. Ikumi groaned herself when greater pressure was applied to her pussy due to the resistance of his ass. She held him by the waist to pull him against her crotch. She rocked a bit to help the phallus move deeper into him in spite of his muffled protests and the small trace of blood. The dildo wasn’t one of those absurdly large toys – only five inches long and of average girth – but it still hurt Ichigo, who had never thought or wanted that area to be explored by his partner.
Now fully buried in him, taking a better stance, Ikumi began to thrust against him. His thighs pounded against the table whenever she sunk into him. He refused to open his eyes as he was fucked against the desk, a tear escaping from the pain of having his virgin ass relentlessly pounded when Ikumi really got into it. Was there a pun that should be intended there…? Humor utterly escaped him at the moment.
Most shocking to him, though, was how his member hadn’t lost any of its potency after all this time. He would’ve never considered himself kinky, being someone who believed in old-fashioned romance – to a certain extent. Yet here he was, bent over a desk, presenting his ass to his boss who had taken little hesitance when it came to penetrating him.
Ikumi moaned loudly as she thrust repeatedly into him. Her motions had become so violent that her cap had eventually come disheveled, so she carelessly tossed it onto the desk, hands immediately latching back onto Ichigo’s waist. It was almost as if she had an actual extension and could feel Ichigo’s tightness around her.
She reached around to the underside of Ichigo, pleased to feel that his cock had swollen probably even more than it had when she was riding him. She played with him a little, if only to tease him, before dropping her grasp to his clenching sac. She tugged on the skin, stretching it out. “Are you glad… ughn… Are you glad my cock’s not as big as yours?” she breathlessly asked. She squeezed his base before gripping his hips again. She made her following thrusts more brutal to make Ichigo cry. “Maybe next time, I’ll get one close to your size.” Was she serious? Of course, after this, Ichigo doubted he would ever disobey her again.
The ass-pounding went on several more minutes before Ikumi’s body suddenly locked up, sealing herself firmly inside of him. She had reached her climax from the pleasure bestowed upon her clit, though a great factor was the rush of power and dominance. Exhausted and satisfied, she slumped over her helpless employee. Her hand touched his cock; seems that he hadn’t reached the same release yet. As if it was her duty, she gripped his rock-hard shaft to help him ejaculate all the stress. It took only two firm pumps before the dick throbbed and his balls ejected their load. She watched in dizzy fascination as the white spurts leapt from the head of his large prick, and she purposely aimed him to cum over the paper forms given to her for work.
“Ooh, wow,” she mused, bringing one hand to capture the following blasts. His cock spat thick webs that clung to her fingers. “You’re making such a mess, Ichigo-chan.” Her hips bumped against his one more time, shoving the phallus in as deep as she could to apply greater pressure on his vulnerable prostate. With one hand at the tip of his shameful erection to catch whatever was ejected, the linked fingers at the base choked out every drop of his discharge. When it was apparent that he had no more to give, she released his cock to reach up and brutally tear the strong tape from his mouth. The sting of it made his eyes water, but he didn’t cry out; he focused only on gasping for breath.
His mouth was filled with three, pungent-tasting fingers in the next instant when Ikumi decided that it was up to him to clean up her soiled, left hand. He winced against the taste of his cum spreading over his tongue in heavy droplets. Too bad Ikumi’s digits were keeping his lips spread and tongue subdued, otherwise he would have spat or drooled all of that jizz from his mouth. “Suck ‘em clean, Ich~i~go-cha~n,” the boss sang in his ear.
There was no refusing. If he wanted to be done with this, he would have to swallow his pride, and unfortunately, his semen too. Suppressing the urge to gag, he closed his mouth around the trio of fingers and suckled on them. A bit of the sliminess was accidently swallowed reflexively, causing his stomach to roil. He held the majority of it in his mouth, ready to spit it all out the second he was outside.
That was the plan until Ikumi held him at the throat, not to choke him, but to persuade him. She plucked her fingers from his mouth, the jizz now replaced with his saliva. “Now swallow it all,” she told him. He grunted nervously and hesitated. As punishment for his hesitance, Ikumi’s powerful palm swatted his sore ass twice, and then repeated her command, this time more assertively. No choice, unless he wanted to insist on standing up all through school tomorrow due to a tender bum. Ikumi felt the muscles of his throat contract reluctantly, feeding him his own cum. “Good boy,” she said to him.
She set a hand on one of his ass cheeks, keeping them spread so that she could watch her cock slowly pull out of his widened hole until the head finally popped out. Jeez, she had spread him wide, which made her chuckle. And unless he wanted her to do more damage, he would be a bit more obedient when she called for him.
“Remember,” she said to him after shoving him down over the desk, intentionally shoving the side of his face into the puddles of cum he had left over her paperwork. The smell of it offended his nostrils, but he was not fool enough to complain, lest he wanted Ikumi to make him clean it all in the same fashion he was forced to clean her fingers. The bondage around his midsection and wrists were cut with a pair of scissors she picked up from the side of her desk. “You work tomorrow. Don’t think that this excuses you,” she warned him while roughly squeezed his firm ass; a gesture that would normally feel mildly good now made Ichigo flinch with a soft hiss.
Ikumi stepped back to allow him some room to collect himself. Before even removing her strap-on and pulling her pants back up, she fitted her cap onto her head. As casually as ever, fake dick bobbing in front of her shamelessly, she collected a towel from the cabinet and threw it over her subordinate. “Clean yourself up. You don’t want to walk the streets at this time smelling and looking like a man-whore,” she snickered.
That cut Ichigo deeper than she realized. Without saying a word, he began to wipe the stained jizz from the side of his face before cleaning his wilting penis. When he was acceptable – at least for until he got home and jumped into a hot shower – he tugged his pants up. He thought that he should say something, that he should quit then and there. His voice didn’t work, and he doubted he could keep the threat of quitting true. Besides, trying to take control now, when Ikumi still had the strap-on equipped and raring to go for a second round, it would be the stupidest thing he could do to challenge her.
He shuffled for the exit, red in the face when he realized that he was limping. When he opened the door slightly, the bell chiming above him, Ikumi rang out, “Good night, Ichigo-chan! See you tomorrow!” That was a bigger threat than anything he could’ve offered.
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“Oi, Ichigo! What’s with you today?” Keigo asked while staring up at his friend. Normally, their group all sat together to eat; today, Ichigo hardly took a seat when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Also, he limped a lot of the time. “Maybe you’re working too hard. Has your boss been riding you too much?”
Ichigo unconsciously squeezed his juice box, squirting the contents over his face. Flushed, he looked at Keigo. “No! It’s… it’s nothing like that!” He threw the crushed box at Keigo’s head, blaming him for the wasted juice and ordered him to get him more, which brought the over-eccentric teen to tears.
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Ikumi, though acknowledging that the measures taken were a bit extreme, felt that it had worked. Ichigo showed up to work – most of the time – although he complained about it more times than not. They never brought up what had transpired that one night, but it had permanently changed their relationship. He may have still acted like a child at work, but… at least he came. Ikumi stopped her paperwork to snicker at the irony of that statement.
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Putting Ichigo to Work