Work Text:
Interest in Full
Tsunade
Naruto
The dim amber glow of the setting sun filtered in through the tall windows of the Hokage Tower, casting long golden streaks across the polished floor. Paperwork lay scattered in light disarray across the desk, though Tsunade barely paid it any mind. Reclined in her high-backed chair, she exhaled through her nose, a cup of sake held loosely in one hand, the other resting lazily near her exposed stomach. Her green haori hung off her shoulders like a loose robe, the fabric doing nothing to hide the heavy weight of her full, generous breasts pressed together beneath her blouse. The deep V of her top plunged low, far past what was typical for a Hokage—just shy of indecent. Her pants clung tightly to her hips and powerful thighs, the curve of her form accentuated by how casually her legs were propped on the edge of the desk, her toenails painted and visible through her open-toed sandals.
The knock that followed was hard—deliberate. It cut through the evening hush like a drawn blade. Tsunade didn’t flinch. She merely lifted her eyes, not her head, and answered with a bored, “Come in.”
The door creaked open and a man stepped through, tall enough to fill the doorway, his black coat trailing behind him. He moved like a man who didn’t fear consequence, the kind whose authority came from somewhere deeper than rank. His boots thudded solidly against the wooden floor, each step deliberate. A jagged scar cut across one side of his face, but his sharp eyes were what demanded attention—cold and assessing, flicking first to Shizune, then lingering unapologetically on Tsunade’s exposed chest. He said nothing for a moment. Just stared. His mouth didn’t move, but the flicker of amusement behind his eyes gave away his thoughts. Huge…no wonder she uses them to distract half the council.
Shizune stiffened behind a stack of scrolls nearby, clearly unsettled. “Excuse me—who are you?” Her tone was firm but uncertain, fingers inching toward her medical pouch.
He ignored her entirely.
Instead, he stepped up to Tsunade’s desk and placed a thick, heavily sealed scroll down with a dull thud. The old wax bore a crest she hadn’t seen in years—one she’d hoped was lost to time. The weight of it wasn’t just physical. It was history. Consequence. His voice was deep, clipped, carrying the rough edge of someone who rarely spoke unless it was necessary. “Name’s not important. What is—are the debts you never paid off during your little gambling tour.”
His words lingered in the air like smoke.
Tsunade’s brow furrowed as she reached out with perfectly manicured nails and broke the wax seal with a practiced flick. The scroll unfurled slowly across the desk, the thick parchment whispering as it spread. Her golden eyes scanned the contents, the bold red ink catching her attention first—an unmistakable signature scrawled with careless arrogance. Her jaw clenched. That mark was real. The numbers weren’t exaggerated; they were accurate. Gambling houses from across the Land of Fire, debts dating back over a decade, bought out and consolidated under the Daimyo’s treasury. Official. Binding. Unforgiving.
Shizune leaned in from the side, concern etched across her features. “Should I—?”
The man finally gave her his attention, if only for a second. His eyes drifted lazily over her form, unimpressed. “No need,” he said with a crooked smirk. “I doubt anything useful’s coming from someone whose tits barely fill a teacup.”
Shizune flushed, lips parting in stunned offense, but Tsunade’s voice cracked the air before she could reply. “Leave us.”
The command wasn’t yelled, but it carried weight. Tsunade didn’t even look at her assistant, her gaze locked on the man before her, her jaw tight. Shizune hesitated for a moment, mouth still half-open in indignation, before collecting herself and silently retreating, the click of the door echoing behind her.
Once they were alone, the atmosphere shifted.
Tsunade rose slowly from her chair, her powerful form unfolding like a storm rolling over the horizon. Her haori slipped slightly from one shoulder, but she made no effort to fix it. Her golden eyes gleamed with restrained fury as she stepped closer to the edge of her desk, the fabric of her blouse tightening as her full breasts swayed with the motion, catching the man’s gaze like a magnet. He stared openly, unashamed, his eyes heavy and slow as they traced the curve of her deep, overflowing cleavage—staring not just at her chest but through her, drinking in every inch with a predator’s patience.
“You come into my office,” she began, voice laced with venom, “with this filth—this trash—and expect to collect like some lowlife thug?”
He didn’t blink.
“I don’t expect anything,” he replied evenly, his tone cool, confident, unaffected by the threat in her voice. “I take what’s owed. And I know exactly how to take it from a washed-up slut of a Hokage who doesn’t have the coin to cover the mess she’s made.”
The silence that followed was electric. Tense. Dangerous. The air between them felt like a taut wire ready to snap.
Tsunade stood with force—sudden and commanding—her body rising in one smooth, powerful motion. The momentum sent her enormous breasts jostling beneath the thin grey fabric of her blouse, the deep V straining even further as her chest bounced and settled, the buttons visibly pulling at the seams. Her haori slipped further down her arms, revealing more of her neckline and shoulders, the sheer size and weight of her bust impossible to ignore. Her fists clenched at her sides, golden eyes burning with fury, her presence suddenly no longer that of a lounging Kage but the legendary Sannin she had once been feared as. “You’ve got one chance to walk out of here intact,” she warned, voice low and deadly, her tone vibrating with restrained power.
But he wasn’t intimidated.
With a smirk, the man stepped around the desk slowly, eyes locked on hers. The wood creaked under his shifting weight as he came into her space—too close. His hand moved suddenly, brazenly, and both of his large palms seized her breasts through the thin grey cloth. His fingers sank in deep, cupping the massive weight of them, squeezing hard enough to draw a sharp breath from her. The fabric stretched and shifted beneath his grip, conforming to his palms as he groped her without shame, the softness of her breasts molding between his rough hands.
Tsunade’s body jerked in rage, her hands rising to strike. “Touch me again and I’ll break your f—”
He didn’t give her the chance.
With a single shove, he forced her back down into her chair. Her body collapsed into it with a soft grunt, her chest bouncing again from the sudden motion as she stared up at him in disbelief and fury. He loomed over her now, the top of her desk pushed to the side, and she felt cornered for the first time in years. His shadow fell across her cleavage, his grin curling with contempt.
“You’ll break nothing,” he sneered, voice thick with mockery. “You lost your right to pride the second you didn’t pay up.”
His words hit harder than his hands, the venom in his tone stripping her down more effectively than any blow. And yet his eyes never left her breasts—his thumbs casually stroking along the swell through the blouse, as if taunting her further by how casually he could touch what was once untouchable.
The green haori, already half-hung from her shoulders, slipped open fully now as she sat back hard in her chair, the motion dragging the fabric down her arms until it pooled loosely at her elbows. Without it to obscure her further, the full swell of Tsunade’s breasts beneath the strained grey blouse was unmistakable—dominant. The fabric clung to her with visible stress, pulling tight around the top curves of her chest with each ragged breath she took. Her anger made her body tremble subtly, and her chest rose and fell with force, each breath making her breasts visibly heave, as though trying to burst free from the confines of her low-cut blouse. Her skin glistened slightly at the collarbone, a faint sheen from the building heat in the room.
The man’s eyes drank her in, dragging slowly from her narrowed glare down to her violently pushed-together cleavage. His lip curled into a slow, cruel grin.
“Damn,” he muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for her to hear every word. “No wonder you’ve coasted through half your career. With a pair like that, I’d have expected a lot more debt. Or did you flash these mountains at every loan shark and just hope they’d forget the interest?”
Tsunade’s fists tightened on the armrests, but she didn’t rise—yet.
He leaned forward slightly, cocking his head as if examining her chest like a sculptor might a cracked statue. “You ever wear a bra, Hokage? Or do you just enjoy watching these fat cow-tits bounce while you pretend to be important?” His fingers twitched with restrained intent, not touching her now—but the air between them felt like a live wire. “You could drown a genin in that cleavage. Hell, probably already have.”
His voice dropped lower, almost amused. “Tell me... how many deals have those tits gotten you out of? How many idiots let you walk away just for a peek down your blouse?”
Her breath caught, chest still rising hard—raging, but unmoving. His eyes, however, never lifted—locked on her heaving, trembling breasts, as though the words were meant for them rather than her.
He straightened slowly, the cruel amusement in his expression never fading as his gaze finally dragged up from her chest to meet her eyes. The shift in his demeanor was subtle, but palpable—his tone turning from mocking to something colder. More deliberate. His words, when they came, were no longer laced with insult, but ownership.
“I’m here to collect,” he said flatly, eyes locked with hers. “And since you don’t have the ryo, your body will suffice.”
Tsunade’s breath caught in her throat, but she masked it with a low scoff. Her golden eyes narrowed into slits, sharp enough to cut. “The hell it will,” she snapped, voice tight with fury, though her posture betrayed a flicker of uncertainty beneath the rage. Her hands gripped the arms of her chair, knuckles pale from tension. “You think you can just walk in here and—”
“I can, and I am,” he cut in, voice deeper now, the edge in it unmistakable. He leaned in closer again, lowering his voice so it struck like steel across her skin. “You’ve got two choices: play along and repay your debt like the broke, washed-up whore you are… or I send word back to the Daimyo that you’ve refused payment. Your position? Gone. Your reputation? Burned. And let’s not pretend you’ll survive without either.”
She didn’t speak right away.
He watched the war in her expression, the clench of her jaw, the twitch of a muscle in her cheek. She was weighing something. Every part of her looked ready to explode—but instead, her chin lifted slightly, jaw grinding with contempt.
“Bastard,” she hissed through her teeth, her voice low.
But then—after a heartbeat—her eyes dropped, not in shame, but in bitter resignation. Her shoulders rose and fell in a slow exhale.
“…Fine.”
The sharp rip of fabric echoed like a verdict, the tension in the room finally snapping as he yanked apart Tsunade’s blouse with a rough, deliberate motion. Threads popped, the V-neck tearing wider until the ruined blouse spilled open—and so did she. Her enormous breasts bounced free with an almost defiant jiggle, soft and flawless, their weight shifting with each shallow breath she took. She’d worn no bra, just as he’d mocked her for earlier—and now the truth hung there in front of them both, undeniable and exposed.
His eyes drank in the sight like a man parched, a slow, smug curl rising on his lips. “No bra. Of course. I figured as much, but it’s pathetic seeing it confirmed,” he scoffed, letting his gaze crawl over her chest with open contempt. “What, couldn’t squeeze these cow tits into anything supportive, or were you just hoping I’d notice? Pretty bold for someone pretending this was a favor to the village.” He slapped the underside of one breast, watching it bounce before cupping it roughly in one hand. “Not even trying to hide it. Trashy.”
Tsunade’s mouth twisted in a furious snarl, eyes flashing with restrained fury. “You knew the deal,” she spat, though her voice hitched as his palm kneaded one mound with cruel precision. “Don’t act like this was your idea.” She stiffened as he pinched her nipple—already hard from the cool air and the tension between them—then gave an involuntary gasp, biting it back with gritted teeth. “Tch… you bastard…”
He leaned in close, lips near her ear, his grip never easing. “Oh, you agreed to this, princess. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the show. And it’s not my fault your body talks louder than your mouth.” He tugged at her nipple, twisting just enough to make her chest jerk, then slapped both breasts together with a lewd sound that echoed in the quiet office. “You act like you're still in charge. But look at you—red in the face, nipples stiff, thighs clenching like a common street girl pretending not to like it.”
Her breath stuttered in her throat. “H-Hah…! Don’t flatter yourself… I’m only here because—nngh—you threatened the village’s funding…” She looked away, cheeks blazing with shame and fury, yet her body betrayed her again: a subtle arch of her back, a twitch of her hips. Her breasts rose with every breath, still swaying from the rough handling.
“And you’re pretending you’re still doing this for them?” he laughed darkly, dragging his thumb across the peak of her breast, wetting it with the heat of his touch. “Keep telling yourself that, Hokage. Let’s see how long that pride holds out.”
He let out a low chuckle as his fingers dragged down the swell of her breast, deliberately slow, savoring every flinch and twitch of her muscles beneath his touch. “What a joke. You walk around acting like a leader, but this is all anyone ever really sees when you enter the room—these.” He gave her tits another slap, the soft flesh bouncing wildly under his palm. “No wonder no one takes your orders seriously—how could they, with a pair of bouncing distractions leading every conversation?” He leaned in close, his voice dipping into a mocking whisper, “Bet even Jiraiya thought you were just a dumb pair of tits attached to a gambling problem.”
Tsunade’s eyes blazed, her jaw tightening as she shoved against his chest with one arm, the other instinctively coming up to cover herself, but his grip remained firm. “Don’t—don’t act like you’re some savior,” she snarled through clenched teeth, chest heaving, nipples hard and flushed pink. “You said you wanted payment, not to run your mouth like some horny little—”
“That’s rich,” he cut her off, sneering. “The Hokage, reduced to tits-for-debt. You should’ve been a brothel matron, not a leader. Then maybe these fat, useless udders would’ve had some value before now.” With that, he leaned down and latched onto one of her nipples, his mouth opening wide before he sucked hard, drawing her in with wet, aggressive hunger.
Tsunade gasped sharply, the heat of his mouth shocking against her already-sensitive skin. “G-Get off—!” she growled, pushing at his head, fingers digging into his scalp, but he ignored her. His tongue flicked and circled aggressively, saliva slicking her skin as he groaned against the softness, mouthing her like a man starving.
Then, without warning, he released the breast from his mouth and reached up with his free hand to slap the other—hard. The sound was sharp, obscene. Her untouched tit bounced in protest, the skin quivering before settling, the nipple jutting forward angrily.
“Didn’t say you could talk,” he muttered as he looked up at her with half-lidded, mocking eyes. “You lost that right the moment you signed your tits over as collateral.”
“You son of a—ghh!” she tried to snap, voice rising with fury, but was immediately cut off as he leaned back in and bit down on the same breast he'd been worshipping, teeth sinking in just enough to make her jerk, her breath hitching violently at the pain and heat mixing into one sharp jolt. Her hands faltered against his shoulders, her knees slightly buckling.
His teeth sank deeper into the supple flesh of her breast, drawing a sharp, involuntary cry from Tsunade as he bit down—hard enough to leave indentations, not enough to break the skin, but enough to bruise. He pulled back slowly, dragging the soft weight of her tit with him before letting it drop with a wet, heavy bounce. His lips were slick with spit, a faint ring of teeth marks beginning to bloom on her pale skin.
“You bastard,” she spat, voice seething with fury as her hand flew up to clutch at her throbbing breast. “Who the hell bites like that? You’re not fucking feral—” She paused only to wince again, the sting radiating beneath her fingers. “If you think that’s going to make me break, you’ve got another thing coming. I agreed to this once, and you’re damn lucky I didn’t knock your teeth down your throat the second you—”
He stepped back mid-rant, calm and calculated, eyes locked on her flushed chest as he reached for his waistband. “Then shut up and focus,” he muttered with a smirk. His fingers slid beneath his belt, and with a practiced tug, his pants fell to his ankles.
Tsunade’s tirade stopped instantly. Her breath caught in her throat, her golden-brown eyes widening—then blinking, stunned, as her gaze dropped between them.
It wasn’t just big. It was ridiculous. His cock unfurled with a heavy, obscene thud, slapping up against his lower abdomen with veiny weight and pulsing thickness. It stood tall and furious, the base girthy enough to demand two hands, the shaft lined with engorged veins that throbbed visibly. The head was wide—comically wide—flared like a weapon, flushed deep pink and already glistening with a thick bead of pre-cum.
Her mouth parted without realizing, an audible breath escaping her as her eyes dragged from base to tip. If he laid it flat against her chest, the monstrous shaft would reach from her collarbone to under her chin—and still have room to press into her jawline. Her arms dropped slightly from where they’d been crossed over her chest, the sheer scale of what she was seeing breaking her train of thought.
“Wh… what the actual hell,” she muttered, voice unsteady with a mix of disbelief and something she couldn’t quite name—shock, maybe, or something dangerously close to awe.
He chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied as his hand wrapped lazily around the base, only managing to cover a fraction of it. “Told you debt collectors come big.”
He stepped forward with deliberate confidence, the heavy weight of his cock swaying with each motion before he brought it up and slapped it hard against Tsunade’s cheek. The wet thwack echoed obscenely in the quiet office, and she recoiled slightly, the sheer force of it knocking her head just enough to make her hair bounce. He didn’t pause—he dragged the thick shaft across her face, smearing pre-cum against her flushed skin, across her lips, her cheekbone, the curve of her jaw. The smell was overwhelming—musky, heady, raw.
“Use those damn tits of yours,” he growled, pressing the flared tip beneath her chin and forcing her to look up at him, her mouth slightly open from the pressure. “Let’s see if they’re good for anything other than distracting old men into folding at the gambling table.” He laughed, short and mocking, as he rubbed the thick head in slow circles across her flushed face. “You walk around like you’re hot shit, but with a rack like this, you’d think you’d have some actual talent using it.”
Tsunade’s teeth clenched, her glare sharp despite the thick cockhead now rubbing just under her nose. “I’m not some—mmph!—fuckin’ bar wench you can—”
“Oh, you’re worse,” he cut in with a smirk, gripping the base of his cock and smacking it again against her lips, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Bar wenches at least know what to do with a dick. You? I bet you’ve never wrapped these soft things around anything but a bottle of sake.” He shook his head with theatrical pity. “All that size and still no skill. Pathetic.”
Before she could respond, he stepped in fully, looming over her and grabbing both of her wrists in one hand. He yanked her arms upward and forced them around the weight of her own tits, shoving them together with a cruel squeeze, forcing the soft mounds into a makeshift tunnel of flesh. Her nipples brushed together from the compression, already pink and throbbing from earlier abuse.
“There,” he muttered, condescendingly adjusting her grip like she was some clueless rookie. “Since you’re clearly too dumb to know how this works, I’ll show you. Nice and tight. That’s it… just like that. Finally putting these cow tits to some real use.”
He gave another mocking thrust forward, letting the swollen head of his cock sink between the pillowy mounds, dragging slowly through the tight channel of soft skin she now unwillingly held for him. “See?” he chuckled darkly. “Even your tits look surprised.”
He angled his hips forward, positioning the massive shaft right between the soft valley of her breasts. The weight of it settled deep, pulsing against the heated skin of her cleavage. Her tits—voluptuous, warm, and plush—wrapped around his cock like a dream, the flesh yielding as the thick length pressed in, each vein dragging slowly against the smooth skin as he gave an experimental thrust. The sensation was divine—her breasts were impossibly soft, the kind of softness that seemed to swallow him whole, cradling every inch of his shaft with pillowy warmth.
“Push ’em tighter,” he ordered, voice low and commanding, breath hitching slightly as he watched the flared head peek out from between her pale globes. “I want this to feel like a proper fuck—not some lazy jiggle show.”
Tsunade huffed, exasperated, her golden eyes rolling with disdain as she pressed her arms inward, sandwiching his cock more firmly between her tits. Her chest rose and fell with frustrated breaths, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a real reaction. “There. Happy now?” she muttered, deliberately turning her head away, refusing to meet his gaze.
But he wasn’t having it.
His hand shot up, fingers tangling roughly in her blonde bangs as he yanked her head to face forward, forcing her to look straight down at the thick cock sliding lewdly through the tight channel of her own flesh.
“Oh no, you don’t get to look away,” he sneered, his grip firm against her scalp. “You watch while I fuck these massive slut-bags of yours. You flaunt ’em every damn day—it’s time you see what they’re actually good for.”
With his other hand at her chest and his hips beginning to move, he gave a slow, deliberate thrust. The slick sound of flesh on flesh grew louder with each pass, a wet, obscene slide that filled the room. His pre-cum, thick and plentiful, began spilling freely from the swollen head, coating her cleavage in a glistening sheen. It dripped between her breasts, gathering in the tight crevice and spreading warmth across her skin.
She could feel it—the hot, sticky fluid smearing against her skin, mixing with the sweat already forming on her chest. The slickness only made the motion smoother, the thick cockhead gliding easier with each thrust, sending shivers through her despite her clenched jaw. Her breasts, sensitive from earlier abuse, tingled with every shift and grind of his weight.
Her breath hitched—silent, almost imperceptible—but he caught it. His grin widened.
Each thrust of his hips was slow, methodical, deliberately obscene. The thick shaft glided between the tight seal of her breasts, the fat, flared head pushing out near her chin before disappearing again into the pillowy softness below. With every movement, the excess pre-cum smeared a little higher, slicking the tops of her tits and now streaking faintly across the underside of her jaw. Her cleavage was a mess of heat and slickness, and the warm glide of fluid against her skin was beginning to affect her more than she wanted to admit.
Despite the tightness in her jaw and the glare she tried to maintain, something else was happening—something she refused to acknowledge. The humid air between her legs was growing heavier, hotter. Her thighs shifted slightly, the unmistakable dampness of arousal blooming beneath her waistband. A slick spot had begun to form in her panties, shamefully clear to her with every small movement.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“You feel that?” he said smugly, his voice rich with amusement. “That sloppy sound between your tits isn’t just me. You’re getting wet, aren’t you?” He gave another slow thrust, letting the pre-cum-coated head press right up to the edge of her chin. “Filthy little slut in denial. Bet if I slid this thing down there right now, I’d slip right in.”
“Shut your damn mouth,” she muttered sharply, cheeks flushing deeper, both from rage and the humiliation of knowing he wasn’t wrong.
But he didn’t stop.
“Spit on it,” he said bluntly, holding himself at the peak of the next thrust, his cockhead hovering barely an inch from her lips. “Do it. Add to the mess. You’ve already got my pre all over those fat tits—may as well show me what your mouth’s good for too.”
She turned her head slightly, resisting the command, jaw clenched tight. “I’m not your toy, asshole.”
He grinned, never missing a beat. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re holding your tits together for me while your pussy’s dripping through your panties, princess.” He nudged her lips with the tip, smearing a glossy line of pre-cum along the corner of her mouth. “You’re halfway there already.”
Tsunade cursed under her breath, eyes darting up to his face with venom before—begrudgingly—parting her lips just enough. She leaned forward, spitting down directly onto the thick shaft, the saliva mixing with the pre-cum and slickening the head even more. It trailed down the length as he eased back into her cleavage, the fresh layer of spit adding a wet, silky coating to every thrust.
The moment the cock slipped between her breasts again, the glide turned even smoother, more depraved. The fat shaft now glistened obscenely, slipping through her tits like a piston, and the added slickness sent tiny pulses of pleasure radiating up her chest and down between her legs. Her nipples stiffened even more, rubbing raw against her own skin from the motion. She grit her teeth—but her thighs pressed together.
He let out a pleased groan, watching her closely. “Good girl. Now keep your eyes open. You’re gonna want to see just how filthy your tits really are by the time I’m done.”
His grip tightened on her wrists, forcing her to hold her tits together with unrelenting pressure as he picked up the pace. The obscene slap of flesh-on-flesh filled the Hokage’s office, echoing with every wet, heavy thrust of his cock through the trembling valley of her breasts. His shaft, slick with a thick mixture of spit and pre-cum, now slid effortlessly, gliding up with such force and precision that the flared, glistening head began to smack directly against her lips with each pass.
Each thrust ended with a soft smack—not just between her tits, but against her mouth itself—coating the curve of her lower lip with streaks of warm fluid. It gathered in the corners, drooling down the side of her chin in a humiliating trail, the scent thick and impossible to ignore. Her neck shone faintly from the mess, the slickness smeared across the skin just beneath her jawline, pooling faintly in her collarbone as his cock dragged back and forth, faster now, harder.
Her breasts bounced with violent motion, the pressure of each pump making her tits jiggle wildly between her own unwilling grip. The softness of her flesh offered little resistance, rippling in waves as his shaft pistoned through her cleavage. Her nipples, raw and pink from earlier abuse, flicked upward with each bounce, brushing the underside of his cock and adding another layer of stimulation neither of them could ignore.
Tsunade’s face was twisted in a war between rage and shame—her golden eyes narrowed in furious humiliation, even as her lips remained parted from the sheer force slapping against them. Her jaw trembled as more spit-slicked precum painted her mouth, and her teeth clenched between thrusts, trying not to react to the way each smack made her chest ache and her pulse race.
Still, he kept going—watching with smug satisfaction as her powerful, proud body trembled under the weight of his cock and her own swelling humiliation.
He watched the way her tits bounced with every thrust, the wet sound of his cock sliding between them now vulgar and relentless. Each smack of his heavy shaft against her lips sent another string of pre-cum across her face, painting her with the thick, sticky mixture of spit and lust. He leaned over her slightly, voice thick with taunting satisfaction as he looked down at the mess he was making of her.
“Never thought the day would come,” he sneered, eyes locked on her spit-slick cleavage as he drove himself through again, slow and deep. “The great Tsunade Senju, former Sannin… reduced to a fucking tit holder.” His hips pushed forward hard, forcing her to grunt as his cock smacked wetly up against her lips again. “You’ve healed armies, crushed enemies—but here you are, tits bouncing for a man you can’t even look in the eye.”
Her fingers twitched where they gripped the sides of her breasts, the weight of them trembling in her hands. She glared up at him with fury in her eyes, her voice low and shaking. “You think this makes you powerful? You’re just another arrogant bastard with a cock who thinks—”
He cut her off with a sudden sharp thrust, the head of his cock smearing slickness directly across her nose and lips again.
“Oh, shut up,” he chuckled cruelly. “You’ve been giving the village headaches for years. Loud, proud, full of bluff and bluster… but all it took was some paperwork, a few bad bets, and now I get the first titfuck from the famous Slug Slut herself.” He spat the nickname like poison, the grin on his face making it clear he enjoyed every syllable. “Wonder what Jiraiya would think, seeing his fantasy folded over like this, choking on cock grease and shame.”
Tsunade snarled under her breath, her shoulders trembling with rage—but the words caught in her throat as his cock throbbed between her breasts, the heat and slick friction overwhelming even her trained composure. Her eyes darted to the thick length now gleaming with her spit and his precum, rubbing up along her chin like a mark of ownership.
“I can’t wait much longer,” he growled suddenly, the desire in his tone now frayed with impatience.
Before she could respond, his hand snapped down and grabbed the red sash cinched around her waist. With a swift yank, he pulled her forward from the chair—Tsunade’s body stumbling helplessly before he lifted her and slammed her down hard onto the desk.
Her back hit the polished wood with a sharp thud, paperwork scattering like feathers through the air. A full bottle of sake toppled from the corner, crashing to the floor and shattering on impact, the scent of alcohol filling the room instantly. Her breasts jiggled violently from the impact, splayed high on her chest as she lay there, momentarily winded. Her golden hair spilled out around her like a broken crown, her fists clenched as she stared up at him in a mixture of fury and reluctant dread.
He stepped between her legs without hesitation, cock standing thick and eager above her, his eyes filled with nothing but hunger.
His hand shot to her throat with practiced ease, fingers curling tightly around the base of her neck just beneath her jaw, pinning her down to the desk with a single, forceful grip. The weight of his palm pressed her windpipe slightly—not enough to choke, but enough to make her feel his power, the control he now exerted over every inch of her body. Her breath hitched, and her eyes narrowed dangerously, but she didn’t move—not yet. His thumb pressed just under her chin, lifting her face toward him like she was nothing more than a disobedient pet.
With his other hand, he reached for the waistband of her dark shinobi pants, the fabric strained taut against her thick, powerful thighs. “Bet you didn’t think these would come off for anyone but some poor bastard you’d pity-fuck after a bottle of sake,” he said, smirking down at her. “All that pride, all that muscle—and look where it got you.” He yanked the waistband down hard, the pants peeling slowly over her hips, then her thighs, exposing more golden skin inch by inch. “A slug-themed whore, flat on her back in her own damn office.”
Her legs were still pressed tightly together out of instinct, but that didn’t last. He grabbed her inner thigh and forced them apart with one powerful shove, stepping between her now-spread legs. His cock twitched above her, dripping a trail of slick precum that stretched down toward her belly as he looked at the mess he was making. “You’ve led shinbi into battle,” he taunted, voice dark and amused, “but you couldn’t lead your own tits out of the way of my cock.”
Her green haori had long since lost its shape, the wide folds splayed open beneath her like a cloak, fully baring her powerful abdomen and wide, toned hips. With her blouse shredded and pushed aside, one heavy tit lolled free to the side, bouncing slightly from the motion—its nipple slick with spit, saliva streaking across the curve from earlier abuse. The other breast remained trapped against her chest, still sticky with a sheen of fluid, a raw pink hue clinging to the stiff peak.
Tsunade growled under her breath, her fists curling at her sides, but her body trembled subtly beneath him—her face red not just with rage, but with the undeniable heat crawling across her skin.
“Let’s see what the Legendary Sucker of Luck feels like inside,” he sneered, leaning over her sprawled body, his breath hot against her cheek as his voice dripped with degrading amusement. The nickname was spat like venom, each syllable intended to strip her of every ounce of dignity she had left. His fingers flexed against her throat, a subtle reminder of the grip he held, both physically and symbolically.
“You piece of—” Tsunade snapped, her voice rough with fury as she writhed against his hold, the rest of her protest dying instantly the moment she felt it—him.
The thick, pulsing head of his cock pressed down against the center of her damp crotch, still covered by the strained fabric of her dark panties. The blunt tip nestled right into the soaked cleft between her thighs, finding that hot, swollen spot where arousal had gathered despite everything. Her hips instinctively jerked, either to retreat or to grind—it wasn’t even clear to her in that moment—but he didn’t let her move.
“Right there,” he whispered mockingly, dragging the slick crown up and down over the soaked fabric. Each pass left a faint streak of pre-cum smeared into the cotton, adding to the wet patch already staining her underwear. The warmth of her body met the heat of his cock in a friction that sent a pulse through them both.
“Don’t pretend that’s just sweat, princess,” he muttered, eyes locked on the trembling of her inner thighs as he teased her, rubbing slowly, cruelly. “You’ve been leaking for a while now. You don’t get this wet for just anyone, huh?” He pressed in harder, grinding the swollen head against her clothed slit with threatening, unbearable pressure—enough to make the thin barrier between them nearly meaningless.
The fabric clung to her like a second skin, pulled taut by her position and his grip on her legs, outlining everything. Every ridge of her folds, the subtle twitch of her body reacting against her will—he felt it all. His cock throbbed at the contact, and the slow, grinding motion sent a fresh smear of slick across her panties, turning the heat between them almost unbearable.
Tsunade’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached, but her voice faltered. The teasing friction was relentless, and worse—it was effective. Her breaths came in short, silent bursts as she fought to keep her face stone, even as her body betrayed her again, trembling faintly under his grip.
Her body lay sprawled across the length of the desk—one leg still hooked over the edge, the other forced wide apart by his position between her thighs. Her haori fanned open completely beneath her like a regal cape stripped of meaning, the green fabric doing nothing now but cushioning the weight of her body as she glared up at him, chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths. Her golden hair spilled in tangled waves across the polished wood, haloing her scowling face with messy strands that clung to her damp skin.
He looked down at her with a wolfish grin, eyes roaming with predatory intent. His hand dropped to the soaked curve of her hips, fingers curling around the waistband of her dark panties. The fabric was saturated, clinging to her sex so tightly it left almost nothing to the imagination. The center was visibly darker than the rest, the outline of her folds pressed taut beneath the cotton, trembling ever so slightly with each breath she took.
“Still wearin’ these?” he muttered with mock surprise, voice thick with amusement. “Didn’t peg you for the modest type, not with tits like that flopping around free in public.” His fingers tugged the band slowly, teasingly, just enough to feel the resistance of the damp fabric before—rip.
With a single vicious yank, he tore them down, the elastic biting into her thighs before snapping past them and sliding down to her knees, then her boots. The soaked material clung for a moment, then fell limply, torn and useless.
“Honestly,” he said with a derisive chuckle, balling the ruined panties in his hand, “I’m impressed you even bother with underwear at all. Thought a gambling whore like you would’ve figured it just slows things down.”
The cold air rushed between her legs now, kissing the slick, freshly exposed lips of her pussy, already glistening with a shameful sheen that even she couldn’t deny. The raw vulnerability of it all hit her in a wave—the spread of her thighs, the wetness between them, and his hungry gaze raking over every inch of her bare sex. Her stomach tightened, both from rage and something deeper, harder to name.
And he just stood there, grinning as if he owned her.
The moment her soaked panties hit the floor, he stepped back just slightly to take in the full view—his breath catching, but not out of admiration. It was amusement. Depraved, mocking amusement.
Her pussy was on full display now, glistening in the low light that filtered through the cracked office shutters. The folds of her sex were flushed a deep, embarrassed pink, the soft, supple lips parted ever so slightly from the heat building between her thighs. And she was completely bare—shaven smooth, not a single hair left to conceal anything, her mound pristine and soft and slick with arousal.
He let out a low whistle, tilting his head as he stared down at her exposed cunt. “Huh. Shaved?” he muttered with a crooked smirk. “Didn’t think someone your age would bother.” His tone was mocking, deliberately cruel. “Then again, I guess even a legendary slut has to stay presentable. Makes it easier when you're whoring yourself out under the desk, huh?”
Tsunade growled through clenched teeth, her fists trembling where they lay at her sides—but she didn’t move to cover herself. Couldn't. Not with him between her legs and her entire body pinned by his presence and her own damn choices.
He leaned forward slightly, guiding the thick, glistening head of his cock down between her thighs until it rested flush against her bare folds. The contact was instant—hot, slick, and wet. He gave a slow, deliberate grind, smearing his precum across her sex before pulling back, only to slap the wide tip against her with a wet, vulgar smack.
“Fucking dripping already?” he growled, eyes locked on the way her cunt glistened, the way her folds twitched every time he slapped her with his cock. Another smack. Another sound—obscene and wet—as the heavy shaft struck her with a messy splat of flesh on flesh. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m not wet for you,” Tsunade spat through gritted teeth, her voice cracking under the strain of her own body’s betrayal. Her cheeks burned crimson, sweat and shame beading at her temples. “It’s not because—ah—” Her words faltered as another slap landed against her sensitive lips, sending a pulse of unwilling heat racing up her spine.
Her eyes squeezed shut for half a second, her breath catching in her throat. Her body was flushed, trembling, and despite everything—despite the fury curling inside her gut—her cunt pulsed with visible, undeniable arousal. Something deeper stirred in her, something she didn’t understand and couldn’t admit.
He didn’t wait.
The moment her voice lifted in protest, he drove his hips forward with a brutal, unforgiving thrust. The swollen, flared head of his cock forced its way past the glistening lips of her pussy, splitting her open inch by inch in a single, punishing push. The stretch was instant—wide, searing, and overwhelming. Tsunade’s breath hitched mid-word, her reprimand strangled in her throat as her back arched sharply off the desk.
“Ah—!”
Her fingernails scraped hard against the polished wood beneath her, carving shallow trails through discarded paperwork and ink-stained pages as her body tensed violently. The girth of his cock was monstrous, far thicker than anything she’d taken in years—possibly ever—and it forced her walls to expand around it in a tight, unrelenting grip. Her inner muscles fluttered in shock, clamping and spasming instinctively as they tried to adjust to the sheer size invading her.
One of her legs kicked out once in a sudden jolt—pure reflex—knocking over the broken bottle of sake with a clatter, the sharp scent of alcohol wafting up around them. Then her thighs went stiff, stretched wide apart and trembling as he buried himself deeper, until his pelvis was flush against hers, balls pressed tight to the curve of her ass.
The sound of skin meeting skin was sharp and wet. Her body, flushed and taut, quivered beneath him—hips pinned under his weight, her breath shallow and quick as her cunt clenched around him in waves of involuntary resistance. Her haori was spread uselessly beneath her, one tit still jostling to the side, the other pushed up tightly against his chest. Her mouth opened—but no words came out. Just a sharp, ragged inhale as her golden eyes widened in disbelief at how full she felt, how violently her body had been forced to receive him.
“Tight for someone your age,” he spat, the words laced with venom as his hands slid down to her knees and forced them wider. Her thighs strained against the motion, but his grip was ironclad, pinning her completely open beneath him—her glistening pussy fully exposed, stretched taut around the thick intrusion that violated her with every thrust.
He wasted no time. His hips snapped forward again, driving the entire length of his cock into her with a sharp, wet slap that sent her tits jolting violently on her chest. The desk creaked beneath them, its legs groaning with each brutal stroke as he pounded into her harder, faster—balls slapping against her with every thrust, echoing through the room like war drums.
“Fuck…” he growled, eyes narrowing as her walls clenched tighter with each pass. “You sure you’re not a virgin? Never thought a battle-scarred slut like you would squeeze like this.” His brow furrowed briefly, a flicker of genuine surprise in his voice. “Shit—maybe you were saving it for some fantasy fuckin’ prince who never showed up?”
Her mouth parted, and she tried to speak—but every time she gathered breath, another brutal thrust cut it off. Her body lurched forward with each impact, her breasts bouncing with every slap of his hips.
He leaned in closer, lips near her ear, thrusting deep—balls-deep—until her body jerked again. “Who was it, huh?” he asked, sneering. “Jiraiya? Some ANBU grunt you gave a pity fuck after a mission? How many cocks have those hips rolled over, Hokage?” His tone dripped with derision, the word laced with poison.
“I—nngh! I d-didn’t—” Tsunade gasped, her voice breaking apart as her hands gripped the edge of the desk for support. Her teeth clenched, golden eyes glassy with fury and humiliation as he slammed into her again, harder.
“Didn’t what?” he barked, ramming forward again with punishing force, her cunt slick and clinging tightly with every stroke. “Didn’t say no? Didn’t count?”
She tried to glare up at him, her hair matted to her forehead, chest heaving, lips trembling. “I—I wasn’t… a whore—!”
He chuckled darkly, driving into her again so hard the desk jerked an inch forward, paperwork crumpling beneath them. “Could’ve fooled me. Look at this greedy fuckin’ hole—sucking me in like it’s starving. Guess all that time being 'noble' just meant no one wanted to touch you.” His cock pulsed inside her, thick veins dragging against her walls.
Her pussy clenched again—tight, instinctive, wet—drawing a groan from his throat as he bottomed out. Her entire body reacted despite her glare, the raw friction lighting her nerves on fire.
“You bastard…!” she growled, voice ragged and hoarse—but not from rage alone.
He leaned in over her, his breath hot against her ear, one hand still pinning her thigh wide apart while the other dug into her hip to anchor his relentless pace. Her pussy was slick now—shamelessly so—his cock plunging into her with ease, the creamy mixture of her arousal coating his shaft in thick, wet layers. Every thrust drew a sticky squelch from between her legs, lewd and loud, echoing off the office walls like some obscene percussion.
“If that’s the case,” he growled smugly, his voice low and curling with cruel satisfaction, “then I guess I’ll just ruin you for whoever the hell you were waiting for.”
His hips slammed forward again—harder, more deliberate—and the desk beneath her trembled in protest. The wood creaked sharply with each brutal impact, paperwork sliding off in scattered sheets, ink bottles knocked askew. The strong muscles of his thighs tensed with each motion, and his cock surged in and out of her soaked slit, dragging her wetness out in thick strings that clung between his shaft and her trembling folds.
Tsunade’s massive breasts bounced with every thrust, the heavy globes slapping against her chest and swaying lewdly beneath her haori. One tit had slipped free entirely, jiggling wildly with each push of his hips; the other was still pressed half against her blouse, the fabric now damp with sweat and her own scent. Her nipples stood stiff and raw, the cool air doing little to hide how flushed and sensitive they’d become.
“Feel that?” he hissed, slamming into her again, the sound sharp and wet. “That creamy little cunt’s clinging to me like it knows it’s about to be claimed.”
His cock was utterly soaked now, coated in a thick glaze of her arousal—each pull dragging a creamy ring around his shaft before he plunged back in, stirring the heat inside her with no mercy. The friction was blinding, the sensation overwhelming—her pussy twitching and squeezing around him, instinctively reacting to every brutal stroke despite the furious glare in her eyes.
Tsunade gritted her teeth, her fists clenched tight at her sides, but the involuntary tremble in her thighs betrayed her. Her body was dripping, aching, and every time he bottomed out inside her, the wet slap of his hips against her slick folds only grew louder—hungrier.
The sound between them had turned shameless—vulgar. Each thrust of his cock into her soaked pussy now rang out with wet, echoing smacks, a sloppy squelch that filled the air and drowned out even the creaking groans of the desk beneath them. Her arousal had grown wetter, thicker, coating his length in a slick, creamy sheen that clung to him every time he pulled back. Each deep stroke pushed more of it out, frothing at the edges of her flushed, parted folds before being driven back in by the next brutal thrust.
Tsunade’s teeth were gritted, her jaw tight—but her body was betraying her more with each passing second. Her thighs quivered violently, her ass tensing with every impact as his cock speared deep, stretching her over and over. Her back arched slightly, helplessly, as the waves of overstimulation rolled through her core. She bit down on her bottom lip—hard—the metallic taste of blood on her tongue barely enough to distract her from the moan that threatened to escape.
“You hear that?” he grunted, sweat beading on his brow as he slammed into her again, the wet sound deafening. “That squelching mess between your legs? That’s all you, Hokage. All that filth soaking my cock—just from fucking you like this.” His voice was harsh, cocky, but there was no missing the satisfaction in his tone, the raw thrill in his voice as her body gave up its resistance inch by inch.
Tsunade’s breath started to falter, catching in her throat with every thrust. Her powerful arms, once defiant and shoving at his chest, now gripped the edge of the desk tightly—knuckles white, fingertips digging into the wood for support. Her strength was still there, but it wasn’t pushing anymore. It was clinging.
“Ah—d-damn it—” she gasped, her voice cracking as her head fell back, golden eyes wide and trembling. “S-slow d-down—ah—nngh! J-just… fuck—!”
Her moans slipped out between broken words, growing louder each time his cock bottomed out with a harsh slap. Her lips trembled, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth as her entire body shivered beneath him, hips jerking slightly despite themselves. Every thrust sent a jolt through her spine, her toes curling in her boots, her body losing more control with every filthy, wet smack of skin on skin.
“Tell me to slow down?” he scoffed, voice thick with mockery as he pulled back just enough to look down at her, the flush across her body undeniable now. Her thighs trembled beneath his hands, slick and glistening, her pussy clinging to his cock with every draw and thrust. “You really think you’re still in charge here?” he growled, slapping his hips forward again, the wet squelch echoing through the office like thunder. “You gave up that right the moment you spread these legs and started dripping all over me.”
Without warning, he reached down and gripped her thighs—strong and toned but now trembling with overstimulation—and lifted. Her legs rose helplessly into the air as he hooked them over his broad shoulders, folding her completely in half. Her calves dangled behind his neck, her boots brushing against his back as he leaned forward, chest grazing the soft, bouncing curves of her tits.
And then he slammed into her.
The shift in angle was devastating.
His cock drove forward and up, the new position forcing it to plunge straight into her deepest point. The thick, flared head rammed against her womb with a brutal, wet clap, sending a shudder rippling up her spine. Her entire body jolted beneath him, her back arching off the desk as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp.
“Fuck yeah,” he grunted, voice low and smug against the underside of her thigh. “That’s it. This is where I break you.”
Her golden eyes widened for a moment, then fluttered—shaky, unfocused. The position left her completely exposed, pinned beneath him with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Her ass was lifted off the desk, the full weight of his thrusts slamming into her with a rhythm that echoed in her very bones. Every inch of him now hit deeper, fuller, grinding against the most sensitive part of her insides with raw, brutal efficiency.
Her hands clawed at the wood, searching for purchase, her lips parting with every ragged breath. Her body trembled, her cunt squeezing down around him in tight, involuntary pulses with each stroke. Her voice was gone, reduced to breathy moans and broken gasps. Her eyes, fierce moments ago, began to soften—fluttering open and shut as the relentless pounding pushed her toward the edge of something she could no longer fight.
With her legs folded tightly against her chest, the soles of her boots pointed helplessly toward the ceiling, he leaned in further—his full weight driving down into her with merciless rhythm. Each savage thrust buried his cock to the hilt, the flared, swollen head slamming up against the entrance of her womb with a bruising thud. The sensation was overwhelming—deep, primal, and unrelenting.
Tsunade gritted her teeth, her jaw tight with effort, but her entire body was betraying her now. Her strong thighs trembled violently over his shoulders, the muscles twitching with every punishing impact. Her golden hair clung to her sweat-slick cheeks, and her breasts—massive and sensitive—bounced uncontrollably with every thrust. The skin was flushed deep pink, her nipples stiff and raw, glistening with a mixture of sweat and lingering spit from earlier abuse. They swayed and slapped against her chest with the rhythm of his hips, the obscene motion only furthering her humiliation.
Her fingers clawed at the desk beneath her, nails scraping deep grooves into the polished wood as she struggled to anchor herself against the crashing tide of sensation. The desk rocked with them, its legs creaking under the force of each deep stroke, papers long scattered, ink smeared from earlier friction. Her arms trembled as she gripped the edge, the only thing stopping her from being completely folded and fucked off the edge of the desk.
And still, her pussy clenched. Hard.
Each thrust made it worse—the brutal stretch, the heat, the fullness. Her cunt spasmed around him without control, gripping and sucking as if trying to pull him in deeper, wetter, tighter. Her slick coated his shaft in creamy layers, making every motion louder, sloppier, more obscene.
Her lips parted, gasping for breath, her voice gone—lost beneath the wave of pleasure she couldn’t hold back. Her walls fluttered again, gripping his cock like a vice, and her back arched as the heat built to something dangerous, something undeniable.
His thrusts grew even more relentless, each one crashing into her like a hammer—brutal, deep, devastating. Her pussy had grown maddeningly slick, the creamy mess inside her soaking his shaft and splashing lewdly from between her folds with every punishing stroke. He felt her trembling all around him—her thighs twitching where they rested on his shoulders, her breath ragged, chest heaving as her body buckled under the strain of sensation she could no longer resist.
“C’mon,” he snarled, voice thick with taunting cruelty as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing the sweat-slick skin of her throat. “You’re close. I feel it. That tight little cunt’s about to break. All that talk, all that attitude—and now look at you.” His hand slid under the back of her knee, yanking her leg even tighter against him so he could press deeper. His cockhead kissed the mouth of her womb with each crushing thrust, forcing a strained whimper from her throat every time.
Tsunade shook her head weakly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she tried—tried—to hold onto something, anything. “No… I’m not…!” she cried out, voice cracking as her teeth clenched to bite back the truth her body was screaming.
But her body had already betrayed her.
Her thighs locked suddenly around his waist, muscles tensing hard as the pressure snapped. Her moan broke free—raw, high-pitched, and undeniably pleasured—as her climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her back arched violently, her nails gouging deep into the wood of the desk as her pussy seized up around his cock in wild, uncontrollable spasms.
She clenched down on him like a vice, her inner walls twitching and milking his length without permission, as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her, gushing wetness around the thick shaft still buried to the hilt inside her. Slick, sticky cream coated his cock, oozing out around the base in hot streams that smeared across her thighs and down onto the desk.
“There it is,” he snarled, his voice thick with triumph as he thrust in and held—balls pressed against her ass, his cock buried deep and twitching inside her clenching cunt. “There’s the real you. The slut behind the Hokage’s face.”
He watched her—face red, lips trembling, chest rising and falling in rapid gasps—as her orgasm continued to ripple through her, her pussy sucking at him with desperate need even as her eyes glared up at him in shame and disbelief. Her body told a truth her mouth never would.
He pulled out with a lewd, wet squelch—his cock glistening with her slick, thick cream smeared along the shaft in milky streaks, her pussy momentarily left fluttering and open, lips twitching from overstimulation. Her hole spasmed in the open air, a fresh gush of her climax dripping freely down her inner thighs, the raw heat of her arousal leaving no room for denial. Her legs trembled beneath her, knees shaking as the full force of her orgasm left her momentarily limp.
But he wasn’t done.
His hands gripped her waist tightly—brutal, possessive—and with one rough motion, he flipped her over onto her front. Her back arched, and she let out a half-gasp, half-snarl as her hands instinctively reached to catch herself. Her chest pressed down against the desk, one arm bracing her weight while the other fumbled uselessly through the sea of spilled papers, ink stains soaking into her fingers.
Her green haori, disheveled and open, now draped across her back like a banner of defeat, its sleeves half-slipping from her arms. Her ass was raised high, presented without mercy, cheeks flushed and parted, her swollen folds shining in the low light—puffy, glistening, and dripping with a fresh trail of cream. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, still pink from the strain of being held wide, her body betraying just how thoroughly she’d already been used.
“Let’s finish this right,” he growled behind her, his voice deeper now—hoarse and hungry. He didn’t wait for her to respond.
One hand gripped her hip like a handle, the other spreading her open, and with a single thrust, he slammed back into her.
The sound was obscene—wet and loud—his cock forcing back into her heat with a brutal slap, driving into her soaked cunt with the force of a piledriver. Her ass jiggled from the impact, the contact rippling through her body, her haori shifting across her back with each motion.
“AH—!” Tsunade gasped, her voice sharp, her mouth falling open as her head dropped forward. One hand braced hard against the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood, while the other clenched uselessly at the mess of scattered documents beneath her, her fingers curling through smeared ink and crushed parchment. Her entire body rocked with the force of his reentry, her back arching instinctively as the thick shaft buried itself to the hilt once more, stretching her out all over again.
Her breath came in broken bursts, her eyes wide and glassy as the desk shook beneath her and the lewd, wet slap of skin on skin resumed—faster, harder, deeper.
His pace didn’t slow—couldn’t slow. Her tight, wet cunt gripped him with every punishing thrust, sucking him back in with a need her pride refused to acknowledge. But he could see it, hear it—feel it—in the way her body gave in. And he wasn’t about to let her pretend otherwise.
With a sudden jerk, he reached forward and grabbed a thick fistful of her golden hair, twisting it cruelly at the base of her skull and yanking her head up. Her back arched sharply, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as he forced her face upward, chest rising high, her haori slipping almost entirely off her shoulders now.
He leaned in close, his chest pressing to her back, his voice a dark, guttural snarl against the shell of her ear. “Look at yourself,” he growled, grinding deep into her as her legs trembled beneath them. “The great Hokage—stuffed full and moaning like a bitch in heat.”
He wrenched her head toward the wide office window, its glass panes now faintly fogged from the heat building in the room. The moonlight filtering through the blinds cast just enough reflection for her to see herself—the flushed face, the parted lips, the sweat-slick strands of blonde hair clinging to her cheeks. Her expression twisted instantly—half rage, half disbelief—but she couldn’t look away. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, and filled with a haze of pleasure she couldn’t mask.
Each brutal thrust shoved her forward into the desk, her breasts swinging wildly beneath her with every wet, violent slap of his hips. Her nipples, still pink and stiff, flicked with the momentum, the soft flesh of her tits jiggling against her chest. Her body rocked in sync with the relentless rhythm, her toned ass smacking back into his groin with each motion, echoing with obscene sound.
And her moans—no longer choked back or buried—spilled out freely now. Breathless, broken, and real. Each one louder than the last, rising in pitch with every thrust as her walls fluttered around him, every nerve lit up from the overwhelming friction.
“Ah—ahhh—hah—nngh!”
Her lips parted wider, saliva clinging to the corner of her mouth as her voice broke into helpless whimpers, her fingers digging deep into the paper-strewn desk. Her eyes, locked in that reflection, couldn’t lie—her body was fucked senseless, and her moans proved it more than any glare ever could.
He kept his grip tight on her hair, twisting the golden strands around his fist as he held her head angled toward the window. His gaze shifted from the slick bounce of her ass to the reflection of her face in the glass—and what he saw made his lips curl into a smug, predatory grin.
Her expression was a mess of contradictions. Her flushed cheeks burned a furious red, beads of sweat clinging to her brow and slipping down the sides of her face. Her mouth hung open, parted in a moan she refused to acknowledge, a faint thread of drool trailing from the corner of her lips down to her chin. Her eyes—once defiant—were now glazed, unfocused, caught in the haze of overwhelming sensation. And beneath it all, her body moved with him now, not against him. Her ass rolled back into each deep, bruising thrust, her thighs shaking with every impact as he drove into her again and again.
“You’re fucking loving this,” he sneered, eyes fixed on her reflection as he slammed forward again, her breasts jolting beneath her with the force. “Look at yourself, Tsunade. Just look.” He leaned in, the words hot against her ear as his cock pistoned deep, the wet sound between them intensifying with each slap of hips to ass. “Say it. Say you want it. Say you like being fucked like a bitch bent over her own desk.”
Her hands clawed uselessly at the surface in front of her, ink-smeared pages crumpling under her fingers. Her body rocked violently with the rhythm, her back arched hard, tits swinging beneath her, nipples raw and flushed. She tried to respond, tried to snap back—but her voice cracked when it came.
“F-Fuck you…!” she spat, the words broken and strained, lacking their usual steel. Her jaw trembled the moment they left her mouth, and her eyes betrayed her—wide, glassy, filled with shame and something else she couldn’t name. Her body betrayed her too.
Because the moment he yanked her hair harder, pulling her head back just a bit more, her pussy clenched—tight and hot—around his cock, spasming in involuntary reaction. The slick, creamy squeeze dragged a groan from his throat, and he could feel how she pulsed around him, like her body was desperately trying to hold him in, to keep him there.
“Yeah,” he growled, eyes narrowing in triumph. “That’s what I thought.”
….
Just outside the Hokage’s office, tucked into the shadowed alcove beside the doorframe, Shizune stood with her back pressed to the wall—knees wobbling, her breath shallow and ragged. Her usual black kimono, normally neat and immaculate, was now disheveled and bunched around her hips. The sash hung loose at her waist, the fabric pushed aside just enough to give her full access to the dripping heat between her thighs.
One hand clutched the edge of the doorway for balance, while the other was buried between her legs—two fingers knuckle-deep inside her tight, soaked quim. Her pale thighs glistened faintly in the flickering light from the hallway lanterns, slick from arousal and the furious pace of her own thrusts. The wet sounds of her fingers plunging in and out of her cunt were drowned only by the loud, rhythmic slapping coming from the other side of the door.
From inside, the unmistakable sounds of Tsunade’s moans, the sharp, brutal impacts of skin against skin, echoed through the thick wood like a heartbeat. Shizune’s face was flushed, her lips parted in silent gasps as she tilted her head back, bangs sticking to her damp forehead. Her normally composed expression was gone—replaced by lust, her eyes glazed over and fixed blankly ahead, completely consumed by the depravity just a few feet away.
Her kimono slipped further down her shoulders with every tremor of her body, exposing the pale curve of one breast, her nipple stiff and catching faintly on the fabric as her chest rose and fell. The contrast of the dark silk against her bare skin only heightened the shamelessness of it all—this wasn’t some slip of modesty. This was intentional.
She could hear Tsunade’s voice—strained, broken—and the crude, taunting growls of the man fucking her, driving her into the desk like a beast. And Shizune’s fingers worked faster, harder, her hips rocking against her hand, her palm now grinding her clit with practiced precision. Her thighs twitched, knees nearly buckling as her breath hitched, slick dripping down the inside of her legs.
She didn’t care if anyone saw. Not anymore.
If a shinobi turned the corner, if an ANBU came to report, if anyone caught the normally dutiful medic with her kimono hiked and her fingers soaked in her own arousal—she wouldn’t stop. She was too far gone. The wet slaps and ragged moans from inside only spurred her on, closer and closer to the edge, her climax riding the waves of Tsunade’s humiliation and her own forbidden pleasure.
….
The desk rattled violently beneath Tsunade’s body, the heavy wood protesting with each brutal thrust as he fucked her deeper, harder, faster. Her haori was bunched around her shoulders, her once-pristine blouse torn and useless, her entire body slick with sweat and arousal. Her pale back arched with every strike of his hips, her ass rippling under the force, each slap of skin on skin echoing sharp and wet through the room.
His cock drove into her with punishing rhythm now, the fat, slick shaft plunging to the hilt again and again, each thrust battering the walls of her cunt and smacking his balls against her soaked folds with a loud, sticky clap. Her pussy was a creamy, glistening mess—squeezing and milking him with every thrust, her juices dribbling down her trembling thighs and pooling on the papers below her. The air stank of sex, thick and humid, filled with the raw scent of her desire and his sweat.
Her legs were spread wide, knees barely holding, her powerful body shaking with overstimulation. Every thrust jolted her forward, her massive breasts swinging wildly beneath her, nipples red and aching from friction, brushing the cold wood with every rock of her hips. Her hands clawed at the edge of the desk, fingers curled into tight fists as she gasped through clenched teeth, her moans growing higher with every pounding stroke.
“Say it,” he growled, his hand still tangled tightly in her hair, yanking her head back again to make her face the window. “Don’t you fucking dare make me say it for you.”
Tsunade’s lips trembled—slack with exhaustion and heat—her jaw clenched as her breath hitched and broke. Her pussy spasmed around him, tightening with another involuntary clench that gave away more than she ever would with words.
Her throat worked, trying to speak—but all that came out was a choked whimper and a strangled gasp as his cock slammed back into her, harder than before, his balls slapping against her slick folds in a series of wet, brutal impacts that sent sparks up her spine.
Tsunade’s scream tore from her throat—raw, desperate, utterly unrestrained—as her second orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave. Her eyes flew wide open, pupils dilated and unfocused, her mouth frozen in a trembling, open-mouthed moan that refused to end. Her body convulsed beneath him, her hips jerking and trembling violently as the pleasure overwhelmed every nerve. Her hands clawed helplessly at the desk, her fingers slipping over sweat-slick wood and crumpled parchment as her powerful frame broke under the force of release.
Her pussy spasmed wildly around his cock, squeezing him in wet, rhythmic pulses, her walls fluttering uncontrollably as she gushed around him. A flood of creamy slick spilled out from between her swollen, stretched folds, running in hot, messy rivulets down the length of his shaft, soaking his balls and splattering noisily onto the floor below in thick, obscene droplets. Her thighs shook violently, muscles twitching as her body gave out, completely shattered by the intense, forced pleasure.
“Fuck—” he snarled through clenched teeth, gripping her hips with bruising force as he slammed into her twice more, each thrust wet and punishing. The sound of her gushing cunt and his slapping hips filled the air with savage rhythm, echoing in the heat-thick space like music from hell.
Then he pulled out with a loud, sloppy pop, her walls clinging to his shaft one last time before releasing him, twitching and gaping in the aftermath. His cock, slick and throbbing, glistened with her juices—still swollen, still angry and hard as he gripped it tightly in one hand, stroking with frantic urgency.
He didn’t hesitate.
With a grunt of exertion, he aimed and let go—his thick cock lurching as the first heavy rope of cum exploded from the tip, splattering wetly across her bare ass and lower back. The load was massive, hot and viscous, painting her skin in long, messy streaks that oozed down the curve of her spine. Her body twitched under the impact, her head still spinning from her orgasm.
Then he grabbed her shoulder, manhandling her limp form and flipping her over onto her back like a ragdoll. Her tits heaved with every breath, face flushed, hair clinging to her damp cheeks. Her lips were still parted, gasping for air when he stepped over her chest and growled one last time.
He pumped his cock once more—and with a final snarl, shot the remainder across her face.
Thick, steaming ropes splattered across her cheeks, her chin, her nose, and directly over her parted lips. One string clung to her lashes before dripping onto her tongue. The last pulse coated her forehead in a long, slow drip that began trailing down into her hairline.
Her once-proud face, flushed and dazed, was now completely drenched—marked, painted, and glazed in a mess of seed that dripped down her features in humiliating silence. Her eyes fluttered half-shut, her expression unreadable—somewhere between exhausted fury and broken disbelief—her ruined body still trembling in the aftermath.
Tsunade collapsed forward with a low, broken gasp, her strength drained completely from her trembling limbs. Her massive breasts flattened against the smooth surface of the desk, the wood now smeared with sweat and smudged ink, her nipples stiff and glistening, still flushed an angry red from the friction and heat. Her haori hung half-off one shoulder, limp and useless now, while her body—once the embodiment of dominance and power—lay spent and slack, hips slightly raised from the way her knees had buckled beneath her.
Her ass, round and flushed, was streaked with thick white lines of cum, the warm mess oozing slowly from the curve of her lower back and trickling down along her thighs. Some clung to her skin in sticky rivulets, others dripped in long, glistening strands that pooled on the floorboards below. Her folds, still puffy and parted from the brutal fucking, twitched faintly with aftershocks—open, leaking, and thoroughly used.
She didn’t move.
Her arms were sprawled out across the desk, fingers twitching slightly, her forehead pressed into a crumpled report stamped with her own seal—now smeared and soaked from sweat and tears. Her golden hair was tangled, sticking to her face, trailing over her shoulders in damp waves. Her breathing came in shallow pants, the rise and fall of her back slow and ragged, her once-fierce pride now shattered beneath the weight of what she had just endured.
Behind her, the sound of heavy boots echoed slowly across the wood floor—the collector circling the desk like a predator, each step deliberate, resonating in the silence thick with sex and ruin. He didn’t speak right away—just let the sound of his presence bear down on her, a shadow stretching longer over her spent form.
He stopped at her head, towering over her. She didn’t raise her eyes. Didn’t lift her head.
With a rough, callused hand, he grabbed her by the chin and yanked her face upward. Her mouth was slightly open, strands of his cum still stretched between her lips and cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, dazed and heavy, lashes sticky, her face stained with sweat and streaks of drying seed.
Then—smack.
He slapped his half-hard, cum-slick cock across her cheek—once, then again.
The sound was loud and wet, sharp in the quiet aftermath. It left glistening streaks of filth smeared across her flushed skin, one droplet clinging just below her eye as it slid slowly down her cheek. Her face twitched, her jaw tightening weakly, but she didn’t pull away.
“That was just the first installment,” he muttered, his voice low, heavy with scorn and amusement as he slowly stroked his still-twitching shaft just inches from her face. “You racked up more debt than one hole can pay.”
His words lingered in the air, sinking into her as the cum continued to drip from her thighs, her expression frozen in defeated silence.
He smirked as her face turned away from him, slowly—ashamed, trembling, and unable to meet his gaze. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, lips parted, her flushed cheeks streaked with drying seed. A single string of thick cum clung between her cheek and lip, slowly stretching, then breaking, falling in a glistening line down to her chin.
“Tch,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked himself back into his pants, the sound of his zipper dragging loud in the quiet room. “I’ll be back,” he added casually, his voice low and deliberate as he stepped away from the desk. “Might take it from your mouth next time. Or maybe both.”
Tsunade didn’t move. Her shoulders were still drawn up around her ears, her forehead pressed against the cool desk, her haori draped over her like a fallen banner. Her once-mighty frame was limp, her body wrecked and twitching faintly around nothing—pussy still leaking, still gaping slightly, as if mourning the loss of his cock. Her chest rose slowly, rhythmically, but she made no sound. No protest. No pride left to summon.
The door opened with a low creak as he stepped into the dim corridor beyond—and clicked shut quietly behind him.
He turned, adjusting his belt, only to stop short at the sight just outside the office.
Shizune stood frozen against the opposite wall, eyes wide in shock, the black folds of her kimono hiked up over her hips, both hands still buried between her slick thighs. Her cheeks were flushed scarlet, lips parted, one leg cocked inward as she rocked ever so slightly. She hadn’t even realized he’d exited—too caught up in the sounds from within, the broken moans of her superior, the wet rhythm of a body coming undone. Her fingers were knuckle-deep and slick, one hand still grinding against her clit, her breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with him.
He raised a brow—bemused, then deeply amused.
“Well shit,” he said with a low chuckle, giving her a once-over. “Guess the loyal assistant likes to take notes.”
Shizune’s eyes widened even further, and she stumbled back, yanking her hand from between her thighs as if electrocuted. Her heel slipped slightly on the polished floor, almost sending her into the wall. She scrambled to tug her kimono back down, her hands shaking, lips fumbling for a defense that wouldn’t come.
He only smirked as he started walking past her, slow and unhurried, glancing back toward the office door.
“Don’t worry,” he said over his shoulder, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “I’ll make sure there’s enough to go around next time. Wouldn’t want the hokage’s loyal bitch feeling left out.”
And with that, his boots echoed down the corridor, leaving Shizune panting, disheveled, and soaked in shame—just as broken in silence as the Hokage slumped on the other side of the door.