A Mother's Sacrifice (one-shot smut)(Beauty & the Beast)

Alberto Fuentes clumsily adjusted the cuffs of his jacket as he walked through the Nakamura estate's grand marble halls, his heavy boots echoing against the cold, polished floors. The opulence of the surroundings left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ornate chandeliers cast glittering reflections on walls adorned with silk tapestries and imported artwork. A stark contrast to the dimly lit, suffocating mines where his youth had been spent.

Not that he was poor by any means, of course. Far from it. Since becoming part of the Presidente's council, Alberto had siphoned substantial wealth from the very magnates that he had once toiled for. As Minister for Labor and Resources, he abused the former while profiting greatly from the latter, taxing them on every bit of Earth's bounty that they dug up from the fertile lands of Montesoro. He now owned mansions in the wealthiest neighbourhoods across the country, and had arrived tonight in the latest model of a luxury sedan that was flown in from Europe at his behest. But it wasn't enough.

If he was a parasite, grown fat from its gorging, then the Nakamuras were one of the whales he fed on, swimming carelessly in the seas that it owned.

The maid leading him stopped at an intricately carved wooden door. She bowed slightly before pushing it open, revealing a well lit sitting room. There, Emiko Nakamura waited, kneeling gracefully on a silken cushion, dressed in a light, flowing yukata, her long, black hair tied into a loose bun. She rose gracefully at his entrance, her movements smooth and deliberate, like the flow of silk.

"Ah, Don Fuentes," she said, her voice low and sultry, like a purr. "How kind of you to accept my invitation."

Alberto grunted in response, stepping into the room and scanning its lavish decor. His eyes flicked to Emiko, her poise and pale beauty a stark reminder of her position, so unlike his own, and that of the country he was born in.

"You seem tense," Emiko said, noting his discomfort.

"Just surprised that a woman like you would choose to spend her time with the likes of me."

Emiko smiled, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Well, we all have our place in this world. And we have much to gain if we work together. You have done well for yourself, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Alberto replied. "And I have your husband to thank for that. My condolences, by the way."

"Thank you," Emiko replied, her tone flat. "It was a terrible loss."

Alberto shifted on his feet, unsure of what to say next.

"Would you care for a drink?" Emiko offered. "I have some of the finest sake in the world, brought all the way from Japan."

"Of course," Alberto said. "I would love to."

Emiko motioned for the maid to bring them refreshments, before kneeling delicately on a plush cushion beside a low table. Alberto joined her, sitting down awkwardly on a pillow, his stout frame dwarfing her.

The maid soon returned, carrying a tray with a bottle of sake and two small cups. Emiko poured a cup for Alberto and one for herself. He reached for his cup, but she gently shooed his hand away.

"Allow me," she said.

Emiko drew herself up, leaning towards him. She slowly and deliberately tipped the sake into his mouth, her eyes locked on his.

He swallowed the warm liquid, feeling it burn as it went down his throat. It was strong, and tasted faintly of plum blossoms.

"Do you like it?" Emiko asked, a coy smile playing on her lips.

"Very much so," Alberto replied. "But I'm afraid a rough man such as myself is not fit for the refined things in life."

"Perhaps not," Emiko replied. "But a refined lady can enjoy the company of a rough man."

"You flatter me, my lady," Alberto chuckled.

"You may call me Emiko tonight, Alberto. There is no need for formality here."

Alberto raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curling upwards.

"And what have I done to deserve such hospitality?

Emiko leaned forward, bringing her face closer to his. Her lips parted, and Alberto caught the faint scent of plum blossoms again, mingled with the heady aroma of her perfume.

"I have a proposition for you," she said, her breath warm against his skin.

"I'm listening," Alberto replied.

"My husband's **** has left a power vacumn in his wake, one that my daughter finds herself caught up in. His demise has also freed me from marital vows." Emiko took a sip from her cup demurely, shying her eyes away from Alberto. "I've found myself in a most... **** position. And I need someone to take care of me. Someone who can keep me safe, and see to my needs."

"And you want me?" Alberto felt his cock stir in his trousers, a powerful wave of arousal shooting through his being.

He took a closer look at the woman next to him, his gaze drinking in her pale, porcelain skin, her delicate features, the sensual curve of her neck. He had never considered her sexually, despite lust for women. Perhaps it was because she was too good for him, or because her marriage to the presidente had made her untouchable. But here she was, offering herself to him, inviting him into her bed.

His head spun with lust.

Emiko nodded, her expression turning serious.

"You will help my daughter. And you will satisfy my needs."

"I am yours," Alberto growled, animal desires having taken over any conscious thought.

Emiko smiled, her lips curving into a wicked smirk.

"That's what I hoped you'd say."

With that, she took his hand, her slender fingers interlacing with his.

She brought his hand to her face, letting it linger there while she crawled towards him. Her yukata hung loosely from her body, exposing her creamy white breasts, their pale nipples almost invisible among her pale skin. Alberto felt his cock strain against his trousers, begging to be released.

Emiko's lips brushed against his, her warm breath caressing his skin. Her dainty hand snaked its way onto his pants, her fingers seeking its target

He gasped as she rubbed it, her touch sending shivers down his spine.

"My my, you are a big one, aren't you?" she purred, her voice dripping with lust. "My beast of a man."

Alberto scowled. His peers had nicknamed him el cabrón, on account of his ugly face and stout body. He didn't care much for it, but hearing the same come out of Emiko's sweet lips made his blood run hot.

"I'll show you a beast," he growled.

He reached for her, pulling her towards him and crashing his lips into hers. She tasted sweet, like honey and plums, and he drank deeply of her, his tongue exploring her mouth, a beggar getting his first taste of exquisite wine.

Her body melted into his, her gentle curves somehow fitting perfectly against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he could feel her heart beating against his, quick and rhythmic. Her scent filled his nose, the intoxicating aroma of plum blossoms and sex.

He was drunk, and she was the finest drink he had ever tasted. He would savor her.

"You smell like heaven, Emiko."

"What a charmer," she laughed while pulling back, her voice melodic and soft. "I suppose that deserves a reward. Would you like to see me?"

"I would very much, mi reina."

"As you wish, my king," she murmured in reply.

She stood, and slowly, agonizingly, untied the yukata, letting the silken garment fall from her body, pooling at her feet. Alberto sucked in a breath. Her body was slender and graceful, her skin flawless and pale, her nipples the palest pink. Below a smooth and tight stomach, her mound was completely shaven, except for a neat, manicured strip of hair, just above her sex.

She was a goddess, and he was a worshipper at her altar.

"You are beautiful, Emiko. Unworldly beautiful."

"Then are you the beast, Alberto, coming to ravage and defile me?"

"Oh, I will fuck you senseless," Alberto groaned, stumbling to his feet and pulling frantically at his pants. His cock sprang free, hard and thick and veined, precum beading at its tip.

"You will have to catch me first then, you beast." Emiko laughed as she turned and ran, her small breasts bouncing freely.

Alberto gave chase, his heart hammering in his chest. His cock bounced with each step, and he felt it slap against his stomach. He had never felt so alive, his lust driving him onward, like a bull after a matador.

Emiko looked back, her eyes flashing with shock at his unexpected speed. She let out a gasp as he caught her, his thick hands grasping her slender hips, rough calloused skin feeling like sandpaper on her silky smooth flesh.

"I've got you now, Emiko," he growled, pulling her close, his breath hot and ragged.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, a look of fear and desire written across her face.

He lifted her into the air, his hands cupping her ass, raising her dainty slit to his face. His tongue shot out, tasting her, drinking in her sweetness. She moaned as he lapped at her, her legs spreading wider, inviting him deeper.

"Ooh, you are a big, filthy, greedy thing, aren't you?" she breathed.

Alberto's cock twitched, his body responding to her words, her scent, her taste. He gnawed at her pussy, feel her cry out in pain and pleasure, her muscles tensing and relaxing beneath his grasp. Her juices ran down his chin, her thighs clamping around his head, muffling her moans.

"Yes! Oh god yes!" she cried, her voice barely audible above the wet slurping sounds emanating from between her thighs.

Alberto lost himself in the sensation, his world reduced to the taste and smell and feel of Emiko's dripping sex.

Emiko's moans grew louder, her body convulsing. Her legs wrapped around his head, pulling him closer, his stubble grazing her delicate thighs, leaving red marks in their wake. He felt her tremble, her orgasm building, her muscles tensing and releasing.

She cried out, a scream of ecstasy, her body wracked with waves of pleasure, her pussy spasming against his lips. He drank deep of her, his mouth flooding with her juices.

She slumped on top of his head, her body limp, her breathing heavy and erratic.

Alberto lowered her to the floor, laying her gently on her back. Her hair fanned out around her head, the pin having been lost during her throes of ecstasy, a dark halo against the light carpet.

He crouched over her, his cock still throbbing, his own need burning within him.