The Flower That Surrenders

The scent of chrysanthemums still lingered in the air when Ino entered the room. Her blue eyes, always so arrogant, were now fixed on Miguel's body—naked, imposing, seated on the throne of bodies that were once kunoichi.

"You..." she swallowed hard, her fingers trembling beside the kunoichi holster, "...what did you do with them?"

Miguel laughed. A deep sound that echoed in his bones.

"The same thing I'm going to do to you."

He snapped his fingers.

Ino screamed as her clothes came undone, leaving her exposed. Her breasts, once proud, swayed with the impact.

"S-Stop!" she tried to cover herself, but her hands were pulled back by an invisible ****, trapping her buttocks.

Miguel stood up, his erection already throbbing with excitement.

"You spend all day saying you're the best, don't you?" He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at his member dripping pre-ejaculate. "Then taste it."

Ino shook her head, her blonde hair flying.

"Never! I don't—"

*Snap.*

Her body arched on its own, her knees touching the floor. Her mouth opened, her tongue stretching as if it were an independent muscle.

"Ew, disgusting!" she exclaimed, but her tongue was already licking the head of his penis, collecting the salty fluid. "I... I don't want to..."

Miguel smiled.

"But your body wants to."

He was right. Her vagina was already dripping, her lips swollen and pink. When he inserted his first finger, Ino moaned like a bitch in heat.

"Disgusting..." she repeated, but her hips were already moving, seeking more. —Repeat after me:— Miguel pulled her hair, forcing her to swallow half of his penis. —"I'm just a hole."

Ino gasped, her eyes filled with tears.

—I... I'm just a hole...—

He pushed until his penis was inside her.

—"For my Master."

She swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten.

—F-For my Master...

When he began to penetrate her, Ino no longer remembered her own name.

Two hours later, Ino lay on the floor, her muscles trembling, covered in semen and sweat. Miguel stroked her wet hair.

—Tomorrow— he whispered, as she absorbed each word as if it were an order—, you will bring me Sakura.

Ino smiled, her eyes empty of everything except devotion.

—Yes, Master.

After all, the most beautiful flowers were those that allowed themselves to be picked.