Baby enjoys his conquest

Shikamaru’s body stilled for a long moment, his head tilted slightly downward as if in deep thought. Then, a slow, deliberate inhale. His fingers flexed, then curled into a fist, feeling the taut strength in his limbs, the quiet power coiled beneath the surface. But it was the mind—oh, that mind—that truly enthralled Baby as he settled into Shikamaru’s frame, his essence curling around the shinobi’s formidable intellect like a serpent claiming a throne. The second he took over, he could feel it—the endless calculations, the depth of foresight, the layered strategies woven into every thought, every instinct. Time moved slower here. Scenarios unraveled instantly, every possible outcome branching into a hundred future paths, analyzed and assessed within seconds. Every Shinobi secret, every defense mechanism, every weakness of Konoha lay bare before him, a shadowed tapestry he could wield with devastating precision. “Such a treasure,” he murmured, Shikamaru’s voice now his, low and edged with dark delight, “all this brilliance—mine to play with.”

He exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders, before lifting his gaze to Kurenai and Temari. Kurenai knelt beside the chair, her black lingerie glistening with sweat, while Temari stirred on the floor, her fishnet-clad form trembling as she rose, her will tethered to his even in her discarded shell. “Untie me, darlings,” he ordered, Shikamaru’s tone a smooth command laced with that velvet cruelty he favored. The women moved as one, their hands deft and reverent—Kurenai’s fingers loosening the knots at his wrists, Temari’s working the ropes at his ankles. The coarse fibers fell away, and Baby stood, rolling his neck, relishing the fluid strength of his new vessel.

They knelt before him then, Kurenai’s head bowed, her lips parted in silent worship, Temari’s blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, their crimson eyes glowing with unwavering devotion. The moonlight caught their submission, a tableau of power that fueled his glee. “Look at you both,” he purred, stepping closer, Shikamaru’s hand tilting Kurenai’s chin up, then tracing Temari’s jaw with a possessive graze. “My fierce little puppets, all strung up for me.” A smirk curled on Shikamaru’s lips. “Good girls.” Kurenai sighed softly, delighted by the praise, while Temari lowered her head slightly, her golden hair framing her face.

Baby’s dark eyes gleamed. “Now then,” he murmured, his tone playful yet commanding, “since we’re celebrating my new, improved vessel… let’s have some entertainment while we plan our next move.” At his command, Kurenai and Temari rose gracefully, their bodies moving fluidly, seductively, swaying to an unheard rhythm. Their black lingerie shimmered in the candlelight, their movements slow, deliberate, meant to please their master. Baby leaned back against the chair, fingers lazily tapping the armrest as he watched them, his mind still calculating, weaving the next steps of their plan.

“Konoha is ours,” he mused, his gaze flickering between them. “It just doesn’t know it yet.” Kurenai turned, her hips swaying hypnotically, her voice a sultry purr. “What would you have us do, Master?” Baby grinned, Shikamaru’s voice dipping into a low rumble. “For now, keep dancing—let’s enjoy this while I think.” Their bodies obeyed, the air humming with their devotion as they discussed their conquest, his brilliant mind already ten steps ahead.

But the bedroom’s air soon crackled with a darker hunger. “You’ve been so good, Kurenai,” he drawled, his tone shifting to a velvet command, “and good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” Kurenai’s breath hitched, her devotion a quiet flame in her crimson gaze, and she nodded. “Temari, tie her up,” he snapped, and Temari moved instantly, retrieving the discarded ropes. She bound Kurenai’s wrists behind her back, then her ankles, leaving her exposed and **** on the bed, her tits straining against the lace as she submitted fully. Baby stepped closer, Shikamaru’s hand tangling in Temari’s hair as he guided her down between Kurenai’s thighs. “Eat her out, darling,” he ordered, his voice a silken thread of control, “make her squirm for me.” Temari’s tongue darted out, lapping at Kurenai’s pussy—slow at first, then hungry—her red eyes locked on Baby’s as she worked. Kurenai moaned, her body arching against the ropes, the wet sounds filling the room.

Baby grinned, undoing Shikamaru’s pants, freeing his throbbing erection—now his, pulsing with borrowed need. He gripped Kurenai’s hair, tilting her head back, and thrust into her mouth, the heat of her throat enveloping him as he fucked her face with possessive strokes. “Take me, you sweet little slut—taste your reward,” he growled. Kurenai gagged, then yielded, her lips tightening around him as Temari’s tongue drove her toward the edge. The room thrummed with raw heat, and with a guttural growl, Baby came—hot spurts of cum painting her mascara-streaked face, the black trails smearing into a chaotic mask. Her lips parted, a ragged moan escaping as Temari’s relentless tongue pushed her over, her own climax shuddering through her, juices slicking the bed.

He pulled back, Shikamaru’s chest heaving as he admired his work—Kurenai’s face a canvas of ruin, mascara and cum dripping down her cheeks. “Did you enjoy that, darling?” he purred, his voice a velvet taunt. Kurenai’s bound hands twitched, her voice soft but fervent. “I enjoyed pleasing Master,” she whispered, her submission absolute. Baby’s grin widened, a flicker of Shikamaru’s lazy smirk twisted into something sinister. “Temari, lick my cum off her face—share it with her,” he commanded. Temari rose, her fishnet stockings whispering against the sheets, her tongue tracing the streaks of white across Kurenai’s cheeks, gathering his seed with reverence. Kurenai whimpered as Temari’s lips brushed hers, passing the taste in a wet, intimate kiss, their tongues tangling in a shared offering.

“Temari, untie her,” he said, his tone a velvet whip. Temari loosened the ropes, and at Baby’s nod, Kurenai seized them, binding Temari’s arms to the bedpost with tight, unyielding knots. Her fishnet-clad body stretched taut, exposed and trembling. Kurenai mounted Temari’s face, grinding slowly, and Baby ordered, “Eat her out.” Temari’s tongue lapped at Kurenai’s folds, hungry and relentless, as Kurenai’s moans filled the air. Baby positioned himself between Temari’s legs, Shikamaru’s hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her pussy with violent precision—hard, deep strokes rocking her bound form. Temari’s muffled cries vibrated against Kurenai, driving them both to climax—Kurenai soaking Temari’s face, Temari clenching around him with a choked scream.

He pulled out, slick and throbbing, and barked, “Kneel beneath me.” They scrambled to obey—Kurenai untying Temari just enough to let her drop beside her. They knelt, disheveled and panting, their red eyes locked on him in worship. Baby stroked himself, cumming across their upturned faces, ropes of white dripping over their lips and chins. They lunged for it, tongues lapping hungrily, swallowing and licking it off each other—Kurenai tracing Temari’s jaw, Temari cleaning Kurenai’s cheek. “Good girls,” he purred, Shikamaru’s voice a satisfied drawl, his power absolute in the wreckage of their devotion.