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The restaurant’s stillness shattered as every head turned, the workers abandoning their tasks to fix their gazes on Temari. Knives paused mid-chop, cloths dropped from hands, and the air thickened with the weight of their attention—red eyes glowing like embers in the dim light, evil smiles twisting their faces into masks of malevolent glee. The once-calm tea house had become a cage, its empty tables now a silent chorus of thralls, their devotion to Baby a palpable hum pressing against the walls. Temari sat rigid on her cushion, her fingers trembling as they clawed at her throat, trying desperately to **** out the silvery tendril that had slithered from her tea. It had felt alive, spreading a cold, invasive sensation through her veins, and now her muscles locked in place, a strange numbness seeping into her limbs. She tried to stand, to fight, but her body refused to obey, leaving her trapped inside herself.

A chill crawled up her spine as she lifted her gaze. Every worker, every figure stared at her now, their red-glowing eyes fixed on their newest conquest, their twisted smiles devoid of any aura or chakra signatures that felt truly alive. They weren’t people anymore—they were his. Temari’s heart pounded violently, her teal eyes flickering with defiance, her mind a fortress under siege, but her hands rested limp in her lap, her breath coming in ragged gulps as the silvery essence coiled through her nerves, puppeteering her with cruel precision.

Baby circled her, Kurenai’s form a vision of predatory grace, her crimson gaze gleaming with cruel amusement. He trailed Kurenai’s delicate fingers along Temari’s jaw, a slow, seductive caress that lingered at the pulse fluttering beneath her skin. “Look at you,” he purred, Kurenai’s voice a silken taunt dripping with mocking amusement, “so strong, so stubborn—yet your body knows its master.” He leaned closer, Kurenai’s breath warm against Temari’s ear, and guided her hand to brush against her own thigh, the touch light but commanding. Temari’s mind screamed, a storm of rage and fear battering her will, but her fingers trembled as they traced higher against her will, her breath hitching involuntarily as her chest rose under his control.

“You noticed something was wrong the moment you walked in, didn’t you?” he whispered, Kurenai’s lips grazing Temari’s neck, a teasing kiss of control as he **** her head to tilt, exposing more of her skin. “And yet… you sat down. You drank.” His grip on her wrist tightened slightly, a velvet leash tightening around her soul, and Temari’s wind chakra flared in **** bursts he smothered with a thought. “Shh… don’t struggle,” he cooed, Kurenai’s tone soft and velvety, leaning in until her lips were inches from Temari’s ear. “It’s so much easier when you just… let go.” The workers’ smiles widened, a grotesque gallery of red-eyed delight, chuckling darkly as Temari’s body arched slightly, her resistance a fading echo.

“Fight all you like,” he crooned, sliding Kurenai’s hand to cup Temari’s cheek, her thumb brushing her lips with a cruel tenderness, “it only makes your fall sweeter.” The restaurant pulsed with their shared hunger, a cage of crimson eyes and twisted grins, and Temari’s body swayed under his seductive dominion, her mind teetering on the brink—still herself, but for how much longer?

The restaurant’s air hung thick and stifling, a crucible of heat and shadow where Temari’s breathing rasped raggedly, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession as she fought with everything she had to break free from the paralysis gripping her body. Her mind screamed at her to move, to reach for her fan, to resist the unnatural **** invading her, but her once-powerful, battle-hardened body was no longer hers—it quivered under Baby’s command, a traitor to her will. The workers’ red eyes glowed like embers, their evil smiles widening as they watched, a grotesque gallery of thralls encircling their newest conquest.

Baby loomed over her, Kurenai’s form exuding predatory confidence, her crimson gaze glinting with sadistic delight. He ran Kurenai’s delicate fingers down Temari’s arms, trailing with a lover’s tease—slow, deliberate, possessive—until they grazed her stomach, then slipped higher, groping her tits with a cruel tenderness that drew a choked gasp from her throat. “Oh, Temari,” he purred, Kurenai’s voice a silken lash dripping with mocking amusement, “you’re trembling already—does it feel that good to lose?” Her nipples hardened against her will, and he massaged them, rolling them between Kurenai’s thumbs as her body shuddered, her teal eyes flashing defiantly even as her limbs remained pinned, pliant under his whims.

“You’re fighting so valiantly,” he taunted, leaning close, Kurenai’s breath hot against her cheek, “I can feel it—your mind thrashing against me. But…” He parted her robes further, exposing more of her taut skin, and chuckled, the sound soft, almost affectionate. “We both know how this ends.” Temari gritted her teeth, her fingers twitching against the wooden table, her warrior’s spirit—a shinobi of Sunagakure—burning strong. She would not fall so easily. But then, a thin, glistening tendril slithered from Kurenai’s mouth, shimmering like liquid silver in the dim light, and darted toward her ear, tracing slow, teasing circles along the outer shell before pushing in.

A white-hot shock of sensation flooded her skull as the tendril slithered inside, winding through her ear canal, burrowing deep into her mind with a wet, invasive slither. Temari’s back arched involuntarily, a strangled cry escaping her lips as Baby pushed deeper, touching parts of her consciousness she never knew existed, eroding her resistance with every twist. Her vision blurred, her body shuddering as waves of foreign energy pulsed through her, and he whispered soothingly inside her mind, his voice wrapping around her thoughts like silk-covered chains: “Relax, darling—let me in.” Her hips bucked under his command as he slipped Kurenai’s hand between her thighs, fingers finding her clit and massaging it in slow, relentless circles, the slick heat betraying her struggle.

She fought, oh how she fought—her mind a whirlwind, clawing at the edges of her consciousness, willing her wind chakra to surge—but Baby’s hold tightened, the tendril whispering promises of surrender as her limbs grew slack, her once-defiant spirit fraying at the edges. “That’s it,” he crooned, Kurenai’s lips grazing her neck, “let me fuck your will away.” Her thoughts softened, weakened, and her body arched again, a climax building against her **** protests. Her cry was raw and ragged as she shattered, juices spilling over Kurenai’s hand, and the thralls’ red eyes gleamed brighter, their smiles a silent chorus of triumph. Baby withdrew the tendril with a satisfied sigh, watching as Temari’s teal gaze dulled, flickering red as her mind buckled, her slow surrender a sweet victory he savored.

Her breath steadied, the frantic panic ebbing into something different. Her rigid muscles relaxed, her heartbeat slowing into a steady, rhythmic pulse, and Temari was no longer Temari. She was reborn—a Tuffle. She blinked slowly, adjusting to her new reality, and a soft, devoted, reverent smile spread across her lips—not the wary smirk of a proud kunoichi, but a silken adoration. Her eyes glowed a brilliant crimson, her body bowing slightly without hesitation. “Master,” she murmured, her voice laced with worship as she rose to join his dominion, the restaurant pulsing with the shared hunger of his thralls.