Temari's Summoning

The biting wind of Sunagakure kicks up swirls of dust as Temari enters the strange room, her giant fan strapped to her back. "Who the hell summoned me?" she growls, her green eyes half-closed. The scroll in her hands still smolders—a forbidden teleportation technique, and someone used it as if it were a dinner invitation.

"Me."

The voice comes from behind her. Temari turns, her fan already open, but her muscles freeze instantly. The man is seated on a throne made of… bodies? No, female bodies, intertwined to form a throne. She recognizes some faces—kunouichi from the Leaf Village—but their expressions are distant, happy, with gaping mouths and hanging tongues.

"What kind of freak—" She doesn't finish the sentence. Miguel snaps his fingers.

Temari screams as her clothes fall to shreds. Her fan crumbles like wet sand. Her body transforms—her breasts swell until she loses her balance, her nipples darkening to a deep pink. Her waist disappears beneath impossible curves, her hips widening with audible snaps. "STOP! THIS ISN'T—" Her voice turns into a moan as her vagina throbs, gushing fluid down her thighs.

Miguel smiles. "You came here as a kunoichi." He stands, his penis already erect. "You'll leave here as my orgasm hunter."

Temari tries to fight. She really tries. But each hand seal she forms breaks in a spasm. Her body no longer obeys her. When she tries to run, her legs spread apart on their own, causing her to fall to her knees before him.

"You're strong," Miguel murmurs, stroking her blonde hair. "That's why I'm going to break you slowly." He squeezes her neck—and suddenly, Temari feels everything multiplied. Each strand of hair is a strand of pleasure. Each breath is ecstasy. Her nipples drip milk without her even touching them.

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO—" She moans as her own fingers, treacherously, slide inside her wet vagina. "WHY MY BODY—?!"

"Because I made the rules," he whispers, forcing her to look at his throbbing penis. "And now you're going to beg to swallow it."

Temari grits her teeth. Her mind hates this. But her body... her body is on fire. When Miguel finally shoves his penis into her mouth, she swallows as if she were dying of thirst. Her hands, once ****, now grip her hips, pulling him inside.

"Good girl," he laughs, twirling her hair between his fists. "Now repeat: 'I am the sand whore.'"

Temari tries to deny it. But her mouth, that damned mouth, opens on its own:

"I... am the sand prostitute..."

Miguel snaps his fingers again. Suddenly, she feels her body vibrate with pleasure and moans.

When he penetrates her, Temari screams—but not in pain. Somewhere far away, in the middle of the desert, an orgasmic sand geyser explodes into the sky.

And so, the most feared kunoichi of Suna becomes...

The days pass. Miguel now has a new throne—made of Temari bent over, legs spread, supporting his body like a perverse piece of furniture. Her mouth is always open, always ready. Her breasts drip milk continuously, feeding any guest Miguel wishes to receive.

Temari moans.

And Miguel laughs.

"Good girl."

She doesn't answer.

She doesn't need to.

His glazed eyes, always fixed on the ceiling, say it all.