Ranma's Rules for a Sex

“Who’s supposed to be the master, here!?”

“You are,” she said, leaning up against him. “I’m just your ****.” Her hand found his cum-covered prick. “...your Sex ****.”

“So you have to obey me. Follow my rules!” He took her hand away from the prick he was willing - Will Power, Ranma! - to soften further.

“When it comes to sex, yes. How much I have to obey you outside of sex remains to be seen.” When she lifted her arms sexily, she realized she still had on - and that was all - her now less tight bra. She unfastened it and took it off while her master talked.

“Rule Number One: You can’t be naked unless I say so. You have to wear clothes!”

“Do you have a fetish about certain kinds of clothes?” She lifted an eyebrow before she lifted her butt up off the bed. “Chinese, perhaps?” He was missing his pants, but Ranma was still wearing his trademark red shirt. “Maybe I can make a deal with Shampoo.”

“NO!! Rule #2 - You must not let anybody know you’re my sex ****!”

She was opening her armoire closet, ready to obey Rule Number One. “It’s really going to be hard to keep it a secret,” she said, pausing to rub her wet and parted pussy lips. With her stirring up her juices, Ranma was reminded that the bedroom reeked of sex. “I’m not simply a sex ****. The wish is that I be a sex **** slut. I need sex, regularly, often. I’ll go crazy without it. And if I go crazy….” Ranma swallowed at the implied implication.

She pulled out a short cheongsam with a slit up one side. “How’s this, Master?”

“Rule #Three, you don’t call me Master!”

“Sorry, Master: Can’t do! The genie who granted the wish called you Master, and what’s a **** without a master? I might be able to come up with alternative titles. How about Owner?”

“No!! That sound’s worse!”

“I can try and limit the times I call you Master. And I may be able to provide a reasonable explanation why I’m calling you that. It will be a challenge to my ingenuity. -How about this outfit?” From the armoire, she had taken a frumpy Mao uniform.

“Why…?” Ranma got up and walked over to the armoire and looked inside. “How…?” He remembered the time a month after he’d come to the Tendos when he rebelled against them trying to make him, as the girl, wear girl clothes. To ‘prove’ that they shouldn’t want to see him crossdress, he had raided Nabiki’s closet - this armoire - and found all sorts of weird outfits. He peered inside, seeing if he could see where she kept the Las Vegas-style showgirl one-piece with the big feathers.

“I don’t just have Camera-space, I also have Closet-space. In other words,” she ran a hand over his shirt-covered manly chest, “I can cosplay any role you desire me to.” Ranma’s dick twitched.

“Not as useful as Pop’s and Ryoga’s Clothes-spaces,” he said, turning away to head for where his pants and boxers lay. “Just put on your usual clothes!” he said, gesturing to hers on the floor.

“Spoilsport.” But she obeyed. For now. She did a reverse strip, hoping to entice her master and make him regret making her cover her goodies. But he was (pretending to be) made of sterner stuff than that. Frustrated, she challenged him to, “Look. My pussy is still leaking.”

“Oh, man…. You can’t go out like…. You have pads?”

“My! How does Master know about such things!?”

“Ha, ha, Nabiki. Just use them, and tampons, too! And, and, a padded bra to hide those nipples, and, and, um, uh…”