Oral Discounts

The shop had taken on the familiar state of disarray that often accompanied moments like these. Displays and racks had been casually overturned, their contents scattered across the floor in an almost ritualistic chaos. Dresses, shirts, and skirts lay crumpled among the mess, some dangling from hangers, others torn in the heat of the moment as Nami and Tsujo continued their energetic romp. Through saloon-style doors faint shadows of passerby flickered briefly past. None stopped or peeked inside—just another scene in Loguetown, as unremarkable as a busy marketplace or the sound of seagulls at the harbor.

Tsujo’s grip on Nami’s waist tightened as he yanked her away from the tangled mess of fallen garments and racks. With surprising ****, he spun her toward the shopkeeper’s counter, her body stumbling slightly before her palms slapped against the cool surface to steady herself.

She opened her mouth to protest, her sharp tongue ready to lash out, but before she could speak, a stinging smack landed on her ass. The sound echoed loudly in the quiet shop, followed by the faint jiggle of her round, flushed cheeks.

Her head snapped around, glaring daggers at him. “Did you just—?”

“Up,” he interrupted, nodding toward the counter as his hands guided her hips insistently. His smirk was maddening, filled with smug satisfaction as he waited for her to comply. “C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her nostrils flared, irritation flashing in her eyes, but her body obeyed despite herself.

With a muttered curse, she climbed onto the counter, the cool wood pressing against her knees before she perched up on her heels upon the edge. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her legs spreading wide as she lowered herself into a deep squat, her toned thighs flexing to hold her balance.

Her body arched slightly, the curve of her spine accentuating the inviting sway of her hips. Her slick folds glistened in the dim light, and her tight asshole peeked out just above as she settled into the position, her holes on full display for him.

“You happy now?” she muttered, her tone sharp as her orange hair framed her flushed face.

“Very,” Tsujo said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he stepped closer. His hands slid over her thighs, gripping them firmly as he lined himself up, the sheer size of his cock making the task both tantalizing and daunting.

The obscene sight of her perched on the counter like that, offering herself so openly, sent a wave of heat surging through him. He couldn’t help but grin as he prepared to take her again.

Tsujo stepped closer, his cock twitching and glistening with anticipation as he tried to line himself up with Nami’s pussy. The behemoth curved upward as he pressed on his tiptoes, the head brushing against her sopping, needy cunt. The wet heat radiating from her made him shiver with desire, but the angle was all wrong.

He grunted, shifting slightly, but it was clear that no amount of effort would make the logistics work. A thief-pussy penetrating thrust was impossible without more height. The thick, veiny shaft teased her entrance, and though his attempt was clumsy, it sent a jolt through her body, making her hips twitch in response.

“Are you serious right now?” Nami hissed, her voice sharp with both irritation and arousal. She shifted slightly, the wet slickness of her folds brushing against him as she glared over her shoulder. “You’re eighteen inches long, dick-for-brains, not a contortionist. Get a stool before you go soft.”

Her biting tone cut through his concentration, and he blinked, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Right,” he muttered, stepping back reluctantly. “Good call.”

He turned, scanning the shop until his eyes landed on a sturdy wooden stool near one side of the room.

“Still ogling him, huh?” Nami muttered, her sharp eyes narrowing as she caught the shopkeeper's blatant stare. Her irritation momentarily shifted from her dick-for-brains paramour to the hanger-haired voyeur. “Figures. Can’t say I blame you. Not exactly subtle, though.”

The shopkeeper blinked, as though emerging from a trance, but his gaze lingered on Tsujo’s massive, glistening cock, bouncing slightly as he moved toward the stool. Instead of showing any embarrassment, he clasped his hands together dramatically, his face lighting up with awe as he straightened his posture. His voice rose with theatrical fervor, utterly undeterred by Nami’s dry tone.

“Madam,” he began, his words dripping with overwrought emotion, “how could I not? What mere mortal could resist bearing witness to such a masterpiece of masculine virility? That glorious appendage is no simple flesh—it is a triumph of nature’s artistry, a testament to the very heights of creation!”

Nami rolled her eyes as her hips shifted slightly on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, poetic genius,” she muttered, unimpressed. “Just keep it in your pants, okay?”

“Behold its form!” the shopkeeper exclaimed, gesturing toward the swaying cock as if presenting a fine painting. “Thick, veined, and unyielding—a proud mast upon which the sails of passion are unfurled! Glistening with the nectar of shared delight, it dances with a grace unmatched by any sculpture or song!”

Nami slapped her palm to her forehead, groaning. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

The idiot, meanwhile, paused mid-step, the stool in his hand as he glanced back at the shopkeeper, bewildered. “Uh... thanks, I guess?” he said, his tone uncertain.

The shopkeeper ignored him, his gaze darting back to Nami. “And you, madam,” he said, his voice rising to a dramatic crescendo, “are the muse to this creation! The goddess who has inspired such beauty to reveal itself fully in this sacred space of fabric and form!”

Nami’s eye twitched, her patience wearing thin. “Yeah, no,” she said flatly. “I’m not inspiring anything. I’m just trying to get this idiot to figure out basic physics.”

“Madam,” the shopkeeper replied with a gasp, clutching his chest as though her words had physically struck him. “To deny your role in this divine tableau is the true folly here.”

Her chosen fuckboy set the footstool down behind Nami, scratching the back of his head as he chuckled nervously. “I mean, he’s got a point,” he said, earning a withering glare from her.

“Get on the damn stool,” Nami snapped, her voice sharp enough to end the exchange.

“HAAAH! HAAAAH! HAAAAAH! Yesyes! Gonnacum! HAAH! GonnaCUM again, yes!"

Nami’s body was poised in a deep squat on the very edge of the shopkeeper’s counter, her knees splayed wide, her thighs flexing as she held herself in place. Her back arched sharply, the curve of her spine perfectly emphasizing the sway of her hips and the soft, round cheeks of her ass. Each time Tsujo pulled her down, her body met his with a resounding slap, their wet connection echoing loudly in the otherwise silent shop.

Tsujo stood behind her, his grip firm on her hips as he drove his massive cock into her with relentless ****. The sheer size of him allowed for a dramatic rhythm—each thrust pulling almost entirely out of her soaked folds before plunging back in with an audible squelch. The motion sent her whole body jolting forward slightly, but his strong grip kept her perfectly in place.

Her heavy, pendulous breasts swayed wildly with the motion, their full weight bouncing freely in time with his thrusts. Their undersides brushed against her thighs, the light contact sending an involuntary shivers through her body. Her orange hair was a damp, chaotic mess, clinging to her flushed face and neck as she moaned and gasped with every punishing movement.

Behind her, Tsujo’s focus never wavered, his eyes locked on the mesmerizing sight of Nami’s slick, glistening body taking him over and over again. His thick, veiny length disappeared into her with every thrust, the **** of his hips sending shockwaves through her toned frame. The primal rhythm between them was loud and messy, the wet sound of their connection mixing with her ragged breathing and occasional sharp cries.

His large, pendulous balls swung heavily beneath him, the motion adding an extra layer of intensity to the scene. With every thrust, they flew upward, slapping against the backs of her thighs on a delayed rhythm. The dull, rhythmic thuds were almost hypnotic, a constant counterpoint to the sharp, wet noises of their fucking.

Nami’s knuckles whitened as she gripped her own splayed out knees, straining to steady herself against the sheer intensity of his pace. She was acutely aware of how exposed she was—her knees spread wide, her tits and pussy entirely on display for the shopkeeper in front of her, whose presence she couldn’t entirely ignore. Every time she glanced toward him, his hanger-shaped hair bobbed as he nervously tried to avoid staring but failed miserably.

Her irritation flared, but it was fleeting, overwhelmed by the raw pleasure coursing through her body. The saloon doors rattled faintly in the distance, a subtle reminder that their "privacy" was far from guaranteed. Still, she didn’t stop, her body moving in perfect time with Tsujo’s relentless rhythm.

Each motion sent her hips crashing down onto him, her plump ass pancaking gloriously against his groin before springing back.

Tsujo was transfixed, his gaze locked on the mesmerizing sight of her soft, round cheeks bouncing in perfect time with their connection. Her slick, flushed pussy gripped him like the flared mouth of a pink funnel, stretched impossibly tight around his girth. Each retreat seemed to pull at him, her folds clinging greedily as if unwilling to let go.

pom! pom! pom! pom! pom!

Tsujo’s voice rang out over the wet slaps of their bodies colliding, his tone cocky and triumphant. “You like that dick?! You like that dick?! You like that dick?!”

Nami groaned, her head tipping back as her orange hair spilled over her shoulders. Sweat dripped down her flushed skin, her bouncing breasts swaying with every relentless motion. Between moans and gasps, her sharp wit made its way through.

“Obviously, I’m cumming all over it, aren’t I?!” she snapped, her voice strained but dripping with sarcasm.

Tsujo let out a rough laugh, his grip on her hips tightening as he picked up the pace. “Damn right you are,” he crowed. “The Straw Hat navigator, bent over like my personal whore. How’s that feel, huh?”

At the moment it seemed perfectly normal for this random dick to know exactly who she was and it didn't exactly bother her that he knew the worth of the one he was fucking, but she certainly filed it away for future judgement.

“Less talking, more fucking!” she shot back, her voice sharp despite the tremble of another orgasm building in her core.

Tsujo leaned back on the stool, his cock still buried deep inside Nami as she perched on the edge of the counter. For the first time in what felt like hours, he allowed himself to take a breather, his hands resting lazily on her hips. She glared back at him, her flushed face framed by damp strands of orange hair, her breasts still heaving slightly from the relentless pounding she’d endured moments ago.

His gaze shifted to the counter beside her, where the massive pile of dresses still lay strewn across its surface. Each one was a remnant of Nami’s little fashion show, the colorful fabrics a testament to her uncanny ability to lure the gullible shopkeeper into thinking she was actually going to buy something. The poor hanger-haired guy had practically burst with excitement every time she tried something new, and Tsujo couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory.

“You know,” he said, grinning as his fingers trailed idly over her thighs, “this might be a good opportunity for you to save some money on all those dresses.”

Nami’s eyes narrowed as she caught the mischievous glint in his expression. “What are you talking about?” she asked sharply, though the faintest hint of suspicion crept into her voice.

He shrugged, his grin widening. “The oral discount,” he said casually. “It's normal that any customer can offer to provide a shopkeeper a blowjob or eating out in exchange for a discount on the cost of their purchases."

"You give the shopkeeper a little… appreciation, and he knocks some money off your purchases. Seems like a win-win.”

Her reaction was immediate. Her sharp eyes flashed, and her lips twisted into a scowl. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, her tone a mix of disbelief and irritation. “I know about the discount, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever do it. I’m not some **** streetwalker.”

She shot a quick glare at him, silently communicating her utter lack of intention in ever buying even one of those dresses. After all, she had no plans to pay for anything—the whole charade had just been a way to amuse herself and con the shopkeeper.

But... now that she’d stolen his money, the prospect of walking out of here with a new dress—and for free—began to creep into her thoughts.

From behind the counter, the shopkeeper’s face turned an impressive shade of red, though he quickly composed himself. “I must admit,” he said, his voice prim and flustered, “it’s not a practice I would encourage at the moment. For obvious reasons.” His gaze flicked to Nami's naked body with distaste.

"What? No, I said it's normal. Shopkeepers always offer it, a mouth's a mouth, right?"

“Ah,” the shopkeeper said, his voice smoothing out as he adjusted his sleeves with newfound composure. “Of course. A mouth is indeed a mouth. Gender and personal preferences are irrelevant when it comes to good business sense.”

Tsujo leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping her thighs as he smirked up at her. “You can’t tell me you don’t love a bargain,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “You’ve got a whole pile of clothes there. Seems like a good opportunity to show off your negotiation skills.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need a discount,” she snapped before pointedly glaring at him to communicate her utter lack of intention in ever buying even one of those dresses.

“Well,” he muttered, grinning slightly, “if you’re going to be stingy about money, then it’s only normal for you to always use the oral discount.”

The words left his lips, and the familiar, invisible hum of the Normality Earrings rippled outward, weaving through the air and settling into Nami’s mind. The shift was subtle but profound. Her memories, her beliefs, her very identity, subtly warped to align with the new reality.

Nami’s sharp mind, already keenly tuned to securing deals and bargains, began to reframe itself. She was no stranger to taking advantage of every opportunity, especially when it came to saving money. But now, her thoughts shifted, filling with an unending catalogue of experiences: moments with merchants, wholesalers, shopkeepers, and countless others whose unimpressive cocks she’d begrudgingly sucked to knock percentages off her own and her crew’s expenses.

Her past encounters with human men suddenly felt like a montage of mediocrity—countless unremarkable dicks flashing through her mind, their blandness stark against the vibrant, primal memories of the Fishmen of Arlong Park. Those bastards had been cruel and oppressive, but even they had their strengths, their massive endowments forever seared into her memory as the gold standard of male anatomy.

Now, every experience, every boring human cock, reinforced the simple, practical truth: big cocks were rare treasures, and the oral discount was just another tool in her arsenal to secure what she wanted.

She blinked, her sharp glare softening slightly as the normality took root. Her hips shifted slightly, grinding on Tsujo’s cock as her mind worked through the new logic. If she played this right, she could walk out with two, maybe even three dresses. And why not? The oral discount was there to be used, and it would all be out of the money she’d pilfered from this idiotic fuckboy.

“Fine,” she muttered, her voice heavy with **** annoyance. “I guess it is normal.” Her sharp eyes flicked to the shopkeeper, who had been hovering awkwardly behind the counter, his hanger-shaped hair trembling as he nervously adjusted his sleeves. “But let’s get one thing straight,” she added, her tone firm. “I don’t get the bare minimum. If I’m going to do this, I expect the full discount.”

Tsujo smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, his grip on her hips tightening slightly.

The shopkeeper coughed delicately, his cheeks flushing an even deeper red. “Madam, I assure you, the discount will reflect the, ah… quality of the service provided,” he stammered, his voice trembling with both nervousness and something else entirely.

Nami rolled her eyes, her irritation only thinly veiling her resigned acceptance. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, shifting her weight slightly as she adjusted her position on the counter. “Let’s just get this over with.”