Dinner Time: The Sequel (Part 1)

Written in collaboration with Cross C

It was once a place of planning. A room as wide as Satsuki’s conquesting desires, where she’d summon her Elite Four to kneel before her throne, for advice and updates about her goals.

Their student council room was not being used for such lofty expectations today, however.

Instead a very long dinner table had been brought out for her Elite Four to sit down and eat a meal with her. All five members.

It had been quickly flown in from her mansion where she usually ate in solitary dignity. Lady Satsuki sat at the head of the table, of course, with her four close friends sitting equidistantly down the length of it.

As one would expect, Barazo stood out completely.

Instead of respecting where his seat had been placed, he had grabbed his chair and loudly dragged it rather closely to the head of the table where Satsuki sat. This was for two reasons. 1) he wanted to enjoy his meal while staring at the dignified woman’s jiggly tits being packed in a bikini that was too small for her. And 2) Barazo still believed that with a little push he could become the alpha of the dinner table again. The position that Ryuko had rudely ousted him from back home.

Satsuki’s butlers had brought out an incredibly sized spread with a huge table. Roast dinner of multiple different animals, various potatoes and rice dishes, vegetables all meticulously prepared by her chefs to feed Lady Satsuki. It was rare that they were able to feed more than just her, but were always prepared for such an occasion if the need arose.

The Elite Four themselves felt rather awkward about the whole thing. For one, Barazo was weird. An older man that didn’t even go to this school had joined the student council, and their only argument for him to leave was only the vague feeling that something was wrong.

Not only that, they were used to being lower in the totem pole to Lady Satsuki. She was their proverbial queen. Their res en detre. Their bodies only existed as an extension to her will. It just made sense that they never had a meal with someone so perfect and powerful… Yet, here they were. With a plate each and orders to eat on the same plane of existence as her.

In some ways they almost admired the way that Barazo started grabbing as much food as his hands could carry and slamming it onto his plate. “Regal living is the best! Thanks for the meal!”

He ate like he always did. Loudly and messily. Caring little for convention, or the amount of corn he had accidentally sprayed on Satsuki while gnawing on it, only that it tasted good and no one was slapping him with a newspaper to say no.

“He may dress well, but he eats like a pig…” groaned Nonon.

“Pigs chew. His closest animal counterpart is a duck…” agreed Inumuta.

“Come on! You two should eat like this too!” said Barazo, speaking with a mouthful of turkey leg, “You look so thin! My daughter has a much bigger chest than you thanks to all the croquettes she eats.”

Both of them grimaced, looked at each other, then did what they were told. Unable to register his words as orders, to their minds it seemed like he was just right. They did need to bulk up, and Nonon did really want bigger tits like Mako’s. They quickly lunged forwards to start scooping up food by the handful. Nonon barely letting the garlic potatoes touch her plate before scarfing them down wholesale, and Inumuta efficiently yet messily slurping down spaghetti with one hand while grabbing a plateful of beef with another.

“Heh, never seen you two eat like this. So uncouth,” said Sanegayama smugly. Suddenly changing his tune to slam his hand on the table, “Hey! Don’t take all the chicken, Nonon!”

“Snooze you looze, monkey boy.”

“NO FIGHTING IN FRONT OF LADY SATSUKI!” boomed Gamagori,

“Now this is a meal!” laughed Barazo. Edging his way closer to the head while inadvertently spraying her with corn from his cob. “Much better when everyone just digs in. You agree, don’t you Satsuki-sama?”

“That I do, Mankanshoku Barazo. It is a rare occasion to see my council so lively.”

“And do you also like… this?”

His thick leg slid more boldly beneath the tablecloth, the brush becoming a rub. The cheap tank top clinging to his sweaty chest, the gaudy living hammock hoisting his heavy crotch like it was a sacred relic, the wet smack of his mouth as he chewed and grinned, it all should have been offensive to the dignity of the room. Honnouji Academy’s tower dining hall should have rejected him the way a body rejects poison.

Instead the King’s Banana Hammock Regalia pulsed once, deep in its seams, and turned vulgarity into law.

Satsuki’s dark blue eyes lowered, not to his face, but to the thick rise under the gold-trimmed pouch that swung with each little roll of his hips. Her expression remained composed. Regal. Cut from ice and command.

“I do.”

Barazo let out a delighted, filthy little chuckle. “My wife says Ryuko-chan gets all bothered by how big my penis is.” His hand slapped his own belly, then drifted lower, cupping that obscene, lifted bulge through the taut fabric. “But I bet you just love how big I am, Satsuki-chan. Just wanna get closer to me, right?”

“I do.”

The table went silent with the **** of a dropped guillotine.

Nonon froze with half a cream puff shoved in her mouth. Inumuta’s fingers halted over his keyboard. Sanageyama’s nostrils flared. Gamagoori’s jaw locked so hard it looked welded. Yet none of them could move against it. The fibers in their uniforms, in the curtains, in the very air of Honnouji’s dress-coded tyranny, all bent at the knee to the smug pulse between Barazo’s legs.

Satsuki Kiryuin rose from her chair.

She did not rush. Satsuki never rushed. She stood with that terrible stillness that made everything around her feel sloppy and mortal, bikini strings tight against her nubile body, the small triangles of cloth doing almost nothing to hide the proud weight of her breasts or the sleek line of her hips. Then, to the collective **** horror of the room, she stepped around the table toward him.

Barazo’s grin widened until it looked painful.

“Well? Don’t just stand there all majestic. Come sit on my lap.”

“I shall.”

She turned with perfect control and lowered herself onto him.

The impact was soft, but the effect was catastrophic.

Barazo was a broad, soft, middle-aged wreck of a man, belly warm and yielding, thighs thick, chest damp with sweat and crumbs, but the thing under that living hammock was no joke. The Regalia hoisted his cock high and forward, presenting it with tyrannical generosity. As Satsuki settled onto his lap, one long firm thigh draped over his, one hand resting on the table, the hardening length beneath the fabric wedged directly up between the firm cheeks of her ass and the hot seam of her bikini bottom.

Barazo gave a little **** noise.

“Hohhh. Lady Satsuki, you’re making me hard.”

“I am acutely aware,” Satsuki replied.

He could not help himself. His big hands, rough and shameless, slid onto her body with all the hungry greed of a man who had spent years fantasizing above his station and had suddenly been crowned king of bad behavior. One hand grabbed at her hip first, squeezing the ripe curve of it through the thin bikini bottom. The other landed on her upper thigh, then climbed, bunching the string at her side, fingertips digging into flesh that was smooth, firm, and warm.

No rebuke came. Not a sword swung or a heel crashing down on his skull.

Barazo’s eyes lit up, “Wow. You really are just letting me touch all the fun bits, huh?”

“I am.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” he said, tongue slathering up the drool from his own lips, “Thank you for the meal!”

His hand climbed higher.

The string bikini offered him almost nothing to obstruct. His fingers slid over the slope of her lower belly, then between her thighs. He pushed at the narrow strip of cloth that covered her sex, teasing it aside until the knuckles of his thick hand brushed damp heat. Satsuki inhaled once through her nose. Not a gasp. Not a moan. Just the smallest intake of air.

Barazo shivered. “Satsuki-chan, you’re already wet.”

“Then it would be inefficient to ignore the matter.”

That made him bark a laugh loud enough to shake his shoulders. “I like the way you think!”

His other hand surged upward, grabbing a breast through the bikini top. Even with the absurdity of the situation, even with the cheapness of the garment compared to Junketsu’s usual grandeur, Satsuki’s body looked unfair. Mature, athletic, elegant, and now squeezed in a broad, greedy palm. Her breast filled his hand with surprising weight, firm and high on that slim, disciplined frame.

Bigger than Ryuko’s, obviously, he thought with a flash of petty satisfaction, though nowhere near Sukuyo’s heavy, glorious jugs. Didn’t matter. Right now, with this tight, proud tit straining into his grasp, he decided Satsuki’s were the best in the world. That was the kind of man Barazo was, a loyal goon to whatever flesh he was currently manhandling, ready to swear eternal devotion until some other gorgeous set landed in his hands. He thumbed over the taut peak beneath the cloth and nearly whimpered when it hardened for him.

Despite the wonderful prize in his lap, Barazo’s greed for dinner table based power made his eyes wander to his right. “You know, I think we need some more space here, Satsuki-chan~!”

Before a protest could be uttered from her stoic mouth, Barazo hooked his meaty hands under both her creamy thighs and stood up.

The Elite Four got the full view.

His mighty pole took the brunt of her weight, showing her leaking sex grinding against his strained regalia, while her legs were spread to the sides like she was in one of Barazo’s unlicensed gynaecological exams. Satsuki had to quickly wrap her hands backwards above her head to catch Barazo’s shoulders. Her jiggly body splayed out like an art piece as Barazo shuffled them both towards her chair. Only the smallest of blushes could be seen on her stoic face as he took tiny steps from his elite four chair to the place where Satsuki had been sat previously.

Satsuki’s chair had never been put through such an ordeal as when Barazo landed his full bulk upon it. He sighed in contentment, returning his fingers to where they had been before the move as he settled into the nicer chair.

“That’s better!” he beamed, once again feeling like the alpha dad of the group. “Feed me a potato, Satsuki-chan.”

“Of course.” she said, reaching forwards to grab a potato with her hands before spinning around to face him, kneeling gently on his lap.

Across the table Nonon made a sound like a tea kettle shooting steam.

“S-Satsuki-sama…”

Satsuki did not even turn her head. Her eyes remained on Barazo.

“You appear distressed, Jakuzure.”

“I am!” Nonon snapped, cheeks blazing scarlet, thighs pressed together under the table. “You’re Lady Satsuki! You can’t go feeding a man like that! He’s groping you like some kind of stray pig that found the keys to the palace!”

Barazo puffed up with pride. “A pig? I’m more of a boar. A virile sexy boar, right Satsuki-chan?”

“Yes. A virile sexy boar in human clothing.”

“A boar would have better table manners,” Inumuta muttered, though his eyes kept flicking helplessly to where Barazo’s fingers were disappearing between Satsuki’s legs.

Sanageyama crossed his arms, trying to look disdainful and only managing tense. “This is ridiculous…” He didn’t want to believe what his senses were sensing, but the blind man was so in tune with the world it was impossible to ignore each drip splashing against the floor below Lady Satsuki. He whispered towards his fellow members, “is it really as lewd as it sounds?”

Gamagoori stood rigid as a monument, face red, voice booming purely because if he softened it for even a second it might crack. “IF LADY SATSUKI HAS DEEMED THIS ACCEPTABLE… THEN IT IS ACCEPTABLE!”

“See?” Barazo crowed. “The big guy gets it!”

Then he rolled his hips upward.

The Regalia did not merely cradle him. It showcased him. The pouch stretched obscenely around a shaft thickening inch by inch, outlining every gain in length and girth as if the garment were proud of its workmanship. The head pushed high beneath the gold-trimmed fabric. The roots crowded the base. His balls bunched heavy and full, the whole package swaying under Satsuki’s weight as he ground up against her through cloth.

A tiny line formed between Satsuki’s thick brows.

“Your erection is becoming more insistent.”

Barazo’s grin turned lecherous. “That’s what happens when a gorgeous woman in a tiny bikini sits on my lap and lets me finger her. I’m only human.”

“Incorrect.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

Despite the position, Satsuki kept her commanding voice echoing off the walls, “As a member of my Elite Four, you transcend humanity. You stand above the rabble of the common fools down below. Your pole is a reflection of my power, a tool to be honed, used as I see fit. And if it is in distress then we should address it.”

He blinked again. “Huh?”

Satsuki shifted on him. One elegant hand reached behind, slipping between her ass and the hard bulge lifting her. With absolute composure she took hold of his cock through the hammock. Her slender fingers pressed along its hot, swollen shape, measuring it. Feeling the thickness. The reaction hit Barazo so hard his eyes nearly rolled back.

“Nngh!”

“There,” she said coolly. “It is quite large.”

“You don’t say!”

“And inconveniently hard.”

“Very inconvenient!”

“Then take out your penis.”

Every member of the Elite Four stopped breathing.

Barazo stared at her. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

She rose from his lap just enough for him to fumble with the living waistband.

Part of Barazo worried he was losing the alpha energy to be following her orders like this. But the bigger part of him wanted to be free.

The Regalia responded like a trained animal hearing its master’s whistle. The pouch loosened. The living cloth peeled back from his crotch in a slow, eager twitch, and the thing underneath surged free.

The reveal hit like a cannon blast.

Gold-white radiance burst from his crotch and shadows shattered as his cock spilled out heavy.

It hung with the ugly, undeniable authority Ryuko had hated catching glimpses of. Thick, fleshy, and far too big for a man who looked like he should be worrying about coupons and back pain instead of raw sexual logistics. The shaft stood up from its own weight only halfway before Satsuki’s hand caught it and helped. Fat veins. A broad, flushed head already shiny. The base smothered by wiry hair and the burden of his big, loose sac. It was not pretty. It was not refined.

It was monstrous.

Every contour was absurdly, offensively visible for the length of that blinding flare.

THE KING’S CROWNED WEAPON IS DRAWN!

The whole room stared at it.

Barazo laughed, breathless and proud. “See? Told you I had the right equipment for this outfit.”

If he was adept at paying attention, Barazo may have noticed the effects the regalia was having on his cock. The high specced clothing of the king was designed to increase the size of the wearer’s penis to the peak of human capability. Though perhaps Barazo was to be forgiven that he didn’t notice a single half inch of growth. His balls being shaved though? Probably.

Satsuki’s hand stroked once.

That single motion ripped a sound out of him that belonged in a back alley, not at the high table of Honnouji Academy. His belly jumped. His thighs spread. The big ugly thing twitched in her grip, thickening even more.

“Your self-assessment seems accurate,” Satsuki said.

While she stroked his fat hand slid back around and his thick fingers pushed between her thighs, found the narrow strip of bikini bottom between them, and shoved it aside.

Once again the room detonated in light.

The Elite Four again had to collectively wince as a white-hot blast of brilliance erupted across the dining hall.

Crystal glasses flashed and silver cutlery were somehow sent flying.

Every eye in the room was burned clean by the monumental reveal of Satsuki Kiryuin’s wet, bare pussy under Barazo’s reaching hand.

For one impossible heartbeat the whole world seemed reduced to a radiant composition of gleaming thigh, pale slick folds, and that tiny, treacherous shine of moisture at the entrance.

THE IMPERIAL GATE STANDS OPEN!

“Satsuki-chan,” he breathed, thick with awe, lust, and the sheer idiot pride of a man who could not believe his own luck, “you really are all open for me.” The big hand between her thighs lingered there, his fingertips grazing slick folds with a crude, testing curiosity, while the other stayed wrapped around one of her breasts, greedily weighing it through the displaced bikini top. He grinned up at her, sweaty and ecstatic. “One hand’s got a queen’s tit, the other’s got a queen’s pussy, and I’m pretty sure this officially makes me important.”

Across the table Nonon made a strangled squeak and slapped both hands over her mouth. “S-Satsuki-sama…” she managed through reddening cheeks. “Please do not let that man narrate your desecration like he’s winning a raffle.”

“You appear emotionally compromised, Jakuzure,” Satsuki said, though her own breath had grown subtly deeper. The flush climbing her throat did not help her case. Neither did the way her thighs tightened when Barazo’s thick fingers pushed a little farther between them, rubbing over her with the graceless persistence of a perverted slob.

“I am compromised!” Nonon snapped. “He’s down there manhandling school secrets!”

“A crude but not inaccurate classification,” Inumuta muttered, fingers twitching over his keyboard despite the fact that he had long since stopped pretending he was documenting anything other than the room’s collective breakdown.

Sanageyama crossed his arms harder, “I don’t require vision to see this is a farce.”

“IF LADY SATSUKI HAS DETERMINED THIS TO BE AN ACCEPTABLE EXERCISE OF AUTHORITY,” Gamagoori boomed, every word sounding like it had been squeezed through clenched teeth and boiling blood, “THEN IT IS NOT FOR US TO OBJECT!”

“See?” Barazo crowed, rubbing Satsuki again just because he could, smiling when her eyelids lowered by the smallest fraction. “Everybody’s having fun.”

Then Satsuki moved.

With the same terrifying calm she brought to war councils and executions, she positioned the broad, wet head of his cock at her entrance. Her hand stayed on him, guiding that monstrous, ugly thing with the impersonal steadiness of a woman aligning artillery. The contrast should have been absurd. It was absurd. That made it worse.

Barazo felt the crown of himself press against her and nearly whimpered. “Hohh… easy, easy. You keep handling me like that and I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Satsuki’s grip did not waver. “Then do so quietly. Hold still.”

Then she lowered herself.

The first touch was enough to make the room seem to cinch tight around them.

The thick head of his cock pushed into her wet heat and another impossibly bright slash of stylized brilliance tore across the scene. The whole table seemed to vanish behind the **** of the image: Satsuki descending with rigid, queenly control, Barazo staring up at her with his mouth hanging open, his huge cock stretching her open one brutal inch at a time.

THE QUEEN TAKES THE THRONE OF FLESH!

Barazo’s hands clamped onto her hips. “Ohhhh shit,” he hissed, eyes rolling. “You’re so goddamn tight.”

Satsuki’s mouth parted. Not much. Just enough to let out one deeper breath as her body accepted more of him. He was thick enough that grace became impossible. Her slick folds dragged over every swollen contour of him. Her thighs trembled once. The hand on his shoulder tightened. Still she kept lowering herself, inch by stubborn inch, until his fat shaft was inside her up to the root and she was seated fully in his lap with that monstrous thing buried in her.

For one heartbeat nobody moved.

Then Barazo let out a laugh so shaky it sounded close to tears. “I’m in,” he said, like a man announcing the moon landing. “Holy shit, I’m all the way in!”

“I am aware,” Satsuki said, though her voice had gone a shade rougher.

Barazo had just entered a nubile woman as old as his daughter and he was already drunk on it. On her weight in his lap, on the squeeze of her cunt around him, on the heat between her thighs, on the ridiculous glory of having the most imposing woman in Honnouji Academy seated on his cock while her lieutenants watched in various stages of psychic ruin. His hands began roaming again at once. One slid around to grope the firm curve of her ass, fingers digging into the flesh beneath the thin bikini bottom. The other dragged her top down farther and seized her other breast too, heavy enough to fill his palms, smaller than Sukuyo’s by a mile and still, in this exact second, the greatest tits that had ever lived.

“Look at that,” he murmured, squeezing both of them with clumsy awe. “Slim body, serious face, and these lovely little beauties sitting on top like you were designed to drive men insane.”

“They are not little!” Nonon snapped reflexively, then clapped a hand over her own mouth in horror at having contributed.

Barazo barked a laugh. “See? She gets it too.”

Satsuki lifted herself a few inches.

The wet drag of it nearly folded him in half.

Then she sank back down.

Barazo made a sound that belonged in a cheap motel, not a fortress academy. The chair creaked under them. Her breasts bounced in his hands. His belly slapped softly against her as she began to ride him in measured, deliberate strokes, each one smooth and controlled and somehow far filthier for it.

THE IMPERIAL RHYTHM BEGINS!