The thrusts became more violent, deeper, each one making their moist skin slap together, the wet sound echoing in the closed room. She's mine, completely, Makima thought, her fingers digging into Samui's hips, feeling the muscles contract under her palms. The blonde's moans, muffled "HNNNGH!" and guttural "OHHH!", were delicious music. Samui's heavy breasts brushed the floor with each movement, her hardened nipples leaving trails of sweat on the wood.
Suddenly, Makima pulled her up with a brutal tug, dragging her towards the grimy window whose panes trembled with the rhythm of their ragged breaths. She slammed her against the cold surface, Samui's milky breasts flattening against the glass, leaving imprints of condensation and skin. Outside, the night was thick, impenetrable, but Makima didn't care.
"If anyone sees you, all the better."
She spread Samui's legs with a firm hand, the other holding her waist, and penetrated her again, without preamble.
"AHHH!"
Samui's scream vibrated the windowpane, her breath forming a circle of mist on the dirty surface. Her fingers, with chipped nails, slid uselessly over the glass, searching for a grip that didn't exist.
"You're… crazy…"
Samui's voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, broken by the shudders that ran through her. Makima sank her teeth into the offered shoulder, the skin yielding under the pressure until the taste of blood filled her mouth.
"And you, you're my whore."
The thrusts that followed were rapid, merciless, each movement calculated to elicit a sound, a reaction, a surrender. Samui screamed, an "OHHH!" that broke into a sob, her breath misting the window in fits and starts. Her nipples, rubbing against the cold glass, hardened further, the pain and pleasure blending into a sensation impossible to deny.
She can't fight.
The thought crossed Makima's mind with icy satisfaction. She felt Samui's submission growing, like a rising tide, inevitable. Every moan, every shiver, every drop of sweat that trickled between her shoulder blades was just further confirmation: the strength she displayed was nothing but a façade, a last resistance doomed to crumble.
And Makima savored every moment of this fall.
The air in the room was heavy, saturated with the smell of sex and sweat clinging to the crumpled sheets. Makima sat slowly on the edge of the bed, her taut muscles visible beneath her pale skin. With a possessive gesture, she pulled Samui towards her, forcing the blonde to straddle her thighs.
"Ride me."
Samui, her eyelids heavy, tried to resist again – a last surge of pride. But Makima was stronger. She guided her roughly, forcing her to impale herself on her veined cock, the warm flesh yielding with a wet sound. Samui's large milky breasts bounced heavily, her hardened nipples rubbing against Makima's chest.
"HNNNGH!"
Samui's hoarse cry broke against the wall. Her fingers dug into Makima's shoulders, desperately seeking an anchor as her legs trembled like leaves in the wind.
"Move, bitch."
Makima's nails traced scarlet lines on Samui's pale thighs.
"I… can't…"
The slap cracked sharply, a "CLACK!" that resonated in the room. Samui's head snapped violently, a red mark appearing on her cheek.
"Do it!"
Submissive, Samui began to move, her hips undulating awkwardly at first, then with more confidence. Her cries rose in a crescendo – "AHHH! OHHH!" – each movement causing beads of sweat to glide between her swollen breasts. She's broken, perfect, Makima thought, pinching a nipple between thumb and forefinger, drawing another scream from the blonde.
With a sudden movement, Makima pushed her back onto the bed. Samui landed in a cloud of crumpled sheets, her legs spread like those of a disjointed doll. She was panting, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, her breasts glistening with perspiration. Makima didn't give her time to catch her breath. She thrust into her with a sharp jerk, making the old bed groan under their combined weight.
"You're nothing without me."
Makima's hands fell on Samui's chest, crushing her sensitive breasts, leaving fingerprints that were already turning purple.
"AHHHH!"
The cry pierced the air, followed by a series of muffled "HNNNGH!" as Samui writhed beneath her, her nails tearing at the sheets.
"Please…"
Samui's barely audible murmur seemed to amuse Makima. She quickened the pace, each thrust echoing like a hammer blow.
"Please? You don't deserve it."
She bit Samui's lower lip until the taste of blood filled her mouth.
"OHHH!"
Samui's body arched violently, a series of spasms running through her as the bed threatened to collapse under the violence of their movements. She's finished, Makima thought, savoring this total surrender, this complete victory.
When it was over, Makima straightened with feline grace, wiping the sweat that beaded on her forehead with the back of her hand. Her smile was still there, cold and satisfied. Samui lay on the bed, her body covered in marks, trembling like an autumn leaf. Her breathing was irregular, punctuated by small gasps.
"Rest, bitch."
Makima was already putting on her harness, adjusting the straps with military precision.
"We attack the lair tomorrow."
She glanced one last time at the collapsed form on the bed. Orochimaru would wait. After all, she thought, lying down on the bed,
'This blonde had already been hers for a long time.'
The cold night welcomed her, carrying with it the metallic taste of blood and the memory of Samui's broken moans.