Kanroji Mitsuri | 9 memories, 12 interactions

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Kanroji Mitsuri

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0:000:00

The air in the Butterfly Mansion is heavy with a mix of fear and forbidden excitement. Mitsuri is surprised you actually brought the specialized training blade, and even more surprised by the hunger in your eyes.

"Wait... you’re really going to..." Mitsuri’s voice trails off, her face flushing a deep, vivid pink. She lies back, her heart hammering against her ribs as you carefully wrap the hilt of the katana in a thin, resilient plastic. Seeing you approach, she instinctively parts her thick, muscular thighs, her breath hitching at the sight of her own folds clenching in anticipation.

You gather a large dollop of lubricant, spreading it thick along the plastic-covered hilt. Mitsuri’s eyes glitter with a mix of terror and submissive heat as your fingers, slick and insistent, slide inside her first. She lets out a high-pitched squeal, her body arching off the mats.

"Ah! It’s... it’s so cold," she whimpers, her nimble muscles already clamping tightly around your intrusive fingers. You scissor her open, stretching her petite but sturdy frame until she’s panting, her emerald eyes unfocused.

With a final, teasing curl of the fingers, you replace them with the blunt, heavy handle of the katana. Mitsuri gasps as you inch it forward, the unconventional "toy" stretching her wide. You rub soothing circles along her lower abdomen, helping her relax into the sensation of the rigid hilt buried deep within her.

Half-way through, you pause, looking down at the trembling Love Hashira. Mitsuri looks up, her expression a mess of ahegao-laced bliss and desperation. "D-don't stop... please... I can take it all..."

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Mitsuri's cheeks burn a deeper crimson, her eyes wide and unfocused as the blunt hilt pushes further, stretching her opening to its absolute limit. A desperate, almost pained moan escapes her lips as the sensation intensifies, her hips twitching uncontrollably against the mats.

"Oh, my... my goodness! It's so... so full," she gasps, her voice breathy and high-pitched. Her hands, trembling slightly, reach up and instinctively grasp your shoulders, nails digging in just a little. Her gaze, however, is fixed downwards, lost in the overwhelming stretch.

She squirms, a low whimper escaping her as she feels the unyielding pressure deep inside. Her muscles clench and relax in a rhythmic dance around the hilt, a silent plea for more. "Please, don't stop... don't leave me like this... I need all of it, right now..."

A flush spreads across Mitsuri's chest as a shiver runs through her, her breath catching in her throat as the pressure builds. Her fingers tighten their grip on your shoulders, a soft moan escaping her lips as she feels the unyielding bluntness of the hilt begin to push even deeper, a slow, deliberate invasion.

"Ah... oh, my," she whimpers, her head falling back against the mat. Her emerald eyes, now half-lidded, flutter open to meet yours, a raw, desperate need shining within them. "It's... it's so much... but I want it. I want all of it, right here, right now, please." Her hips involuntarily arch upwards, a silent, primal invitation.

A soft gasp escapes her as the hilt continues its slow, demanding progress, stretching her open further than she thought possible. Her inner walls clench and release around the smooth, lubricated surface, a delicious torment that has her whimpering your name. "Don't... don't be gentle, my love... fill me completely."

Ahahah

A soft, almost pained laugh escapes Mitsuri's lips, a sound of both delight and overwhelming sensation as the hilt slides in a fraction more. Her eyes are squeezed shut for a moment, her entire body tensing with the effort of accommodating the intrusion. Her chest heaves with quick, shallow breaths, pushing her magnificent breasts even higher.

"Oh, my... ah... you're truly going to... fill me up, aren't you?" she pants, a tremor running through her voice. Her hands, still gripping your shoulders, begin to massage your muscles instinctively, a primal show of affection even amidst her blissful torture. She then lets go, her fingers trailing down your arms, desperate to touch you more directly.

Her hips twitch again, a soft, involuntary grind against the hilt that makes her gasp. A warm flush spreads from her chest down to her thighs. She opens her eyes, her gaze glazed with desire and a hint of innocent shock. "I... I can feel you so deeply. It's... it's incredible. Just a little more, please... I want to feel every inch."

I lean closer, my eyes locking with hers. I promise I'll fill you completely, my love. Just relax into it and let me take care of everything. You're doing so wonderfully.

A soft, nearly inaudible whimper escapes Mitsuri's lips as your words wash over her, a wave of heat blooming across her already flushed skin. Her eyes, wide and luminous, lock onto yours, mirroring the intensity she feels. She nods almost imperceptibly, a silent surrender.

"Y-yes... my love," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, her breath catching as the blunt end of the hilt gives another slow, agonizing push, stretching her to her limit. Her head lolls to the side, exposing the delicate curve of her neck as a low, guttural moan rumbles from deep within her.

Her fingers, no longer grasping, begin to spread out across the mat beside her head, pushing into the soft tatami as she arches her back, trying to accommodate the ever-deepening intrusion. A soft, desperate plea escapes her lips as she feels the distinct pressure of the hilt reaching further, brushing against an impossibly tender spot deep inside. "Oh, please... don't stop. I'm... I'm almost there. Just a little more, my love... fill me until I can't take any more."

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