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Maybe it was a little unfair of her, but on some level, Mitsune Konno (better known as Kitsune to her friends) couldn’t help feeling like this was all Keitaro’s fault.
Sure, it might have been a little foolish of her to risk the money she’d set aside for rent on a “sure bet” at the tracks. Sure, her alcohol expenditures had been a tiny bit higher than usual this month. And sure, she’d already sweet-talked Keitaro into giving her an extension on her rent for the last three months straight and hadn’t made any effort to pay it back since then.
...Okay, fine, maybe Keitaro wasn’t the one at fault for once in his life. Still, given his well-earned reputation as the biggest pushover in all of Tokyo, she hadn’t expected him to finally grow a pair and threaten to evict her if she didn’t at least make a good faith payment on the rent she owed.
Normally she would’ve been able to talk her way out of an ultimatum like that with nothing more than a few minutes of flirting, but her normally-easygoing landlord had made up his mind. He’d even prepared a set of colorful charts to show her how, between constantly waiving her rent and the repair expenses he incurred whenever she goaded Naru or Motoko into smashing him through a wall, she was a bigger overall drain on the Hinata House’s budget than all of her housemates combined.
It was quite an impressive feat, considering her competition included a mad scientist with a penchant for collateral damage, a girl with a hair-trigger temper and a right hook that could powderize concrete, and a master swordswoman whose philosophy on conflict resolution could be summed up as “attack first and interrogate the corpses later”.
With no other recourse, Kitsune had hit the streets, looking for the story to end all stories. Just writing one of her normal columns wouldn’t do here. She needed something huge, something she could sell for enough money to pay off every cent she owed.
And as luck would have it, she had found it.
By pure chance, she’d glimpsed a surprising face while leaving a run-down bar in one of the seedier parts of town: Shojiro Tatsuda, the CEO of one of Japan’s largest pharmaceutical companies. His face was hidden by a wide-brimmed hat and thick scarf, but with her keen eye for detail, she’d immediately seen through his disguise.
Curious about why such a wealthy and powerful man would be walking alone through the slums late at night, she’d trailed him to a seemingly nondescript office building a few blocks away and snuck inside through a back window. What she’d discovered had surpassed her wildest expectations: a secret hardcore BDSM nightclub, catering to those with deep pockets and unconventional desires.
At that moment, jackpot symbols had flashed in Kitsune’s eyes, and she’d quickly taken as many pictures as she could from her hiding spot within the club’s ventilation ducts. The collared slavegirls wearing revealing uniforms and waiting on patrons, the boxes of restraints and toys next to each table, the live kinky sex show up on stage where two leather-clad dominatrixes had their way with a bound and hooded woman - all of it was safely recorded on film by the time Kitsune made her escape.
If only Kitsune had gone ahead with her initial plan of selling the story to some tabloids, things might have turned out better for her. Unfortunately, she’d always been the type to push her luck whenever she had a chance at a big payday. Instead of sending the collection of photos to one of her usual clients, she’d picked out a choice photo of Tatsuda receiving a rather forceful blowjob from a cuffed, ring-gagged waitress under the table, then mailed the businessman a copy, threatening to send it to the papers if he didn’t cough up a sizeable amount of cash.
In hindsight, the fact that he’d agreed so quickly should have been a red flag. When she went to collect the money from the agreed-upon drop point, a black van had slammed on the brakes next to her, and two ski-masked men had grabbed her and dragged her inside before she could react. She’d screamed and fought as the van sped away, but one of the men had injected something into her neck that knocked her out instantly.
She never could have imagined the hellish nightmare that would be waiting for her when she woke up.
“Heh, you’re a pretty loud bunnygirl, aren’t you? Then again, I guess most girls are pretty loud when they’re getting their ass fucked...”
“FHHK HFF!” Kitsune cursed, her voice muffled by the thick cock pumping between her ring-gagged lips. Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage the man in front of her to tighten his grip on her hair and force her to deepthroat him even further. Behind her, the man plowing her ass picked up his own pace to match, filling the room with the sharp, rhythmic sound of his hips slapping against her own.
Kitsune had known she was playing a dangerous game, but she’d underestimated just how much power Tatsuda had - and how low he was willing to sink to keep his recreational activities under wraps. When she’d woken up in his captivity, he’d presented her with a contract for one month’s employment at the club she’d photographed, and given her two options. Either she could sign the contract of her own free will, or she could sign it after he injected her with an experimental aphrodisiac and left her to the tender mercies of his private security staff.
Needless to say, she’d signed the contract, and her month of hell began. As an “employee” of the club, she was little more than a glorified sex slave. She was required to stay on the premises at all times, any failure to obey orders was met with strict punishment, and the patrons were not only permitted, but actively encouraged to do whatever they wanted to her whenever the mood struck them.
But even among all the humiliating and degrading tasks Kitsune was forced to perform in her new role, she had a special hatred for the cosplay bench. Every Saturday evening, one “lucky” girl on staff was forcibly dressed in a themed outfit, then tied to a special bench so the patrons could use her mouth and ass freely for the entire night. And unsurprisingly, Kitsune had been “randomly” selected as the cosplay girl for the last four Saturdays in a row.
Tonight, she found herself lying facedown on that hated bench once more, this time dressed in a light blue bunnygirl outfit. Her arms were secured in a boxtie behind her back, and her legs were frogtied tightly and anchored to the back corners of the bench, keeping them spread for easy access. A leather harness with a padded blindfold and metal ring gag was buckled tightly around her head, keeping her from biting down on any of the many, many cocks she would be servicing throughout the night.
And on the subject of cocks, both of the patrons currently spit-roasting her had just reached their limit. Their grunts of release were barely audible in the noisy, chaotic environment of the club, but the simultaneous flood of cum into her throat and asshole as both men sheathed their full lengths inside her was impossible to miss.
Once they’d gotten their rocks off, Kitsune’s current violators pulled out of her and departed, making way for whoever was next in line to screw the bunnygirl. That was the worst part of having to wear a blindfold while on cosplay duty - she never knew who would be fucking her next or how many people she still had to go. All she could do was lie there and catch her breath until the next cock was unceremoniously shoved inside of her.
Much to her unwanted surprise, however, the next person to approach was polite enough to introduce himself to her first.
“Hello, Mitsune. How’s your new job treating you so far?”
“TAHHFUDHA, YUH AFFHLLL! YUH WUHN GEH AWEH WIHF THIFF!” Kitsune snarled.
“Really, I’m not sure what you’re complaining about,” Tatsuda chuckled. “This is a win-win situation for us, after all. I keep my proclivities secret from the general public, and you get to earn the money you tried to extort out of me, fair and square. I understand the workers here are compensated quite well once their contracts are complete, after all!”
Kitsune heard his footsteps circling behind her and quickly braced herself for his entry. Instead of him ramming his dick into her exposed asshole, however, she suddenly felt someone ripping open the crotch of her leotard, widening the hole around her rear entrance so that her pussy was exposed as well.
“NUH! STAHHP! YUH’RR NUH HLLOWHHD TUH-”
“Actually, I think you’ll find I am allowed to do this,” Tatsuda said, prodding the head of his cock against her snatch. “It’s amazing what you can get away with for the right price, isn’t it?”
That was all the warning Kitsune received before he thrust into her with all his might, sending shockwaves of unwanted arousal through her body. As Tatsuda pumped his hips against hers harder and harder, rattling the bench with each resounding impact, Kitsune could only moan and pray silently for a rescue that would never come.
This time, there would be no Keitaro or Naru rushing in to save her from the consequences of her actions. She was a helpless prisoner of this sadistic club, and only once her contract expired would her torment finally-
“Oh, and did I mention the continuation clause in your contract?” Tatsuda whispered into her ear, his words turning Kitsune’s blood to ice. “If the club owners think you’re doing a good job, they can extend your contract as long as they want, whether you agree to it or not. Of course, if you decide to turn over the original copies of those photos you took, I think they might agree to let you off the hook. Otherwise, you and this bench are going to get very well acquainted over the next two years…”
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