Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
[DLC St. Cecilia’s] Introductions [oral, vaginal, MF]

The morning sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of St. Cecilia’s All-Girls High School, bathing the polished marble floors and intricately carved wooden doors in a warm, golden hue. He passed by a group of young girls who bowed slightly and offered him a cheerful greeting.

How polite, he thought to himself as imagined ripping off their clothes and hearing them scream as he plunged his cock into their orifices. Maybe he would make Nanako watch, he thought with a grin.

Hayao Miyazaki adjusted his tie as he approached the principal’s office. St. Cecilia’s was a renowned educational institution—an elite academy shaping the daughters of Japan’s most powerful families into paragons of intellect and grace. But Hayao wasn’t drawn by its prestige. His ambitions were darker, rooted in control and the tantalizing possibilities afforded by the stopwatch in his pocket—a relic imbued with the power of a goddess, its cold metal a constant whisper of dominance.

He paused before the heavy oak door, its brass knocker gleaming under the light. A smirk flickered across his lips as he imagined what awaited him beyond it—not just a job, but a playground. With a steadying breath, he knocked twice, the sound reverberating softly in the quiet hall.

“Come in,” came a clear, commanding voice from within.

Hayao stepped into the office, his gaze immediately locking onto the woman behind the desk. Kana Saionji, the principal, was a vision of poised authority. Her slender frame, with long legs that added to her statuesque presence, was clad in a tailored charcoal gray suit that exuded luxury, the fabric’s quality evident in its smooth drape and the way it accentuated her curves with understated elegance. 

Her hair—snow-white and cascading in soft waves down her back, and her most striking feature—framed an oval face that was both delicate and commanding. Perched on her nose were a pair of sleek, black cat-eye glasses that accentuated her sharp features, adding to her air of sophistication. The young man had done his research and knew she was still in her early thirties, but the white hair lent her an air of wisdom beyond her years, an untouchable aura that intrigued Hayao. Her dark eyes, keen and perceptive behind the lenses, met his with an intensity that sparked a thrill deep within him—a mix of respect and the urge to unravel her composure.

“Good morning,” she said, rising with a fluid grace. “I’m Kana Saionji, principal of St. Cecilia’s. Hayao Miyazaki, I presume?” Her voice was smooth, authoritative yet devoid of harshness, a perfect balance of strength and refinement.

“That is correct, Miss Saionji,” he replied, his tone courteous. 

He extended a hand, and she shook it with a firm grip that surprised him, her delicate appearance belying her strength. As their hands touched, Hayao felt a jolt of desire. In his mind’s eye, he saw Kana and Nanako together, their bodies sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other, moans filling the air. He quickly suppressed the thought, focusing on the present moment.

“Please, have a seat,” Kana gestured to the plush leather chair across from her desk. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Hayao said, settling into the chair. He crossed one leg over the other, his posture relaxed yet alert, his senses attuned to every detail of the room—the faint creak of the leather, the soft glow of sunlight on the bookshelves lining the walls.

Kana poured tea from a delicate china pot, the soft clink of porcelain punctuating the silence. The aroma of jasmine filled the air as she handed him a cup, her movements precise and deliberate. “Milk or sugar?”

“Black is fine,” Hayao said, accepting the cup with a nod. The warmth seeped into his palms, a stark contrast to the cold anticipation coiling in his chest.

Kana resumed her seat, sipping her tea with an elegance that captivated him. Her eyes never left his face as she spoke. “Now, Mr. Miyazaki, St. Cecilia’s is not just any school. It’s an institution with a rich history, dedicated to the education and safeguarding of young women from Japan’s finest families. Our students are exceptional, both in intellect and heritage, requiring the utmost care and discretion. I must ensure that every faculty member is exemplary in qualifications and character.”

Hayao nodded, sipping his tea as the heat spread through him. “I understand completely. I’m honored to be considered for this role, and I assure you, my commitment is unwavering.”

Kana leaned back, her fingers steepled thoughtfully. “Your credentials are impressive—a degree in Japanese literature from a top university, glowing recommendations, and a clear passion for teaching. But tell me, why an all-girls school? What draws you to this environment? Let me remind you that while this position was offered to you before my father fell ill, the final decision still rests with me.

Hayao chose his words with care, though his mind was already drifting to the stopwatch’s promise. “I believe teaching literature to young women offers a unique chance to shape their worldview through timeless works. Their perspectives enrich the texts, and I’m eager to guide that journey.”

Kana’s expression remained neutral, but her eyes sharpened. “A thoughtful response. What about your personal life? Are you married? Do you have children?”

Hayao thought of Nanako, tethered to him by guilt in their cramped apartment. “No, I’m unmarried and childless. My focus is solely on my career.”

“I see. And your past interactions with students—any incidents I should know about?” Her tone was probing, her gaze piercing through him.

Hayao’s lips curved into a faint smile, his fingers brushing the stopwatch through his trousers. “None whatsoever. I’ve always maintained professionalism with my students.”

Kana’s eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him. “Good. You’re aware that St. Cecilia’s has a zero-tolerance policy for misconduct, especially given our students’ vulnerability.”

“Absolutely,” Hayao agreed, though his thoughts raced with forbidden possibilities. The stopwatch grew heavier in his pocket, its power an irresistible lure. Kana’s diligence was admirable, her professionalism impeccable, but Hayao was restless. He yearned to test his control, to bend this pristine world to his will.

As Kana pressed on, questioning his teaching philosophy and classroom management, Hayao’s focus wavered. Her lips—full, slightly parted—captivated him, igniting fantasies of them wrapped around him. A jolt of arousal surged through him, and he shifted, his hand slipping into his pocket.

“Mr. Miyazaki, how do you handle disruptive students?” Kana asked, her pen poised over a notepad.

Hayao paused, then withdrew the stopwatch, its bronze glinting in the sunlight. With a glance to confirm her attention was on her notes, he flipped it open and pressed the button.

Time froze.

Kana sat still, her pen hovering, her mouth parted mid-sentence. The room fell silent save for Hayao’s quickening breaths. He rose, heart pounding, and circled the desk, drinking in her frozen form. Her chest was still, her eyes fixed unseeingly ahead—a perfect statue of elegance and authority.

He locked the door with a soft click, the sound a delicious promise of seclusion. Approaching Kana, he stood before her, tracing her features with his gaze—the sharp curve of her jaw, the delicate slope of her neck. She was exquisite, a canvas for his desires.

Hayao tilted her chin up gently, her lips parting further under his touch. A surge of power coursed through him as he unzipped his trousers, freeing his hardening cock. The anticipation was a physical ache, his pulse racing as he guided her head forward. He slid into her mouth, the warmth of her tongue—though motionless—enveloping him in a way that drew a low groan from his throat.

He began slowly, savoring the sensation—her lips soft and pliant, her mouth a perfect fit around him. His hands wove into her white hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers as he pulled her closer. The absence of resistance, the total control, was intoxicating. He thrust deeper, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the act. The wet heat of her mouth, the friction of her lips, sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. He imagined her responding—her tongue moving, her eyes meeting his—but the reality of her stillness was a thrill beyond that fantasy. She was his, utterly his, a vessel shaped by his will.

His hips rocked faster, the pressure building in his core. His breaths grew ragged, a primal edge to each exhale. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his cum spilling down her throat in hot, pulsing waves. The release was exquisite, a rush of satisfaction that left him trembling. He lingered, holding her there, relishing the aftershocks, before withdrawing. He tucked himself away, adjusting her position to erase any sign of his actions, and returned to his seat.

With a flick, he closed the stopwatch, and time resumed.

Kana blinked, a faint frown crossing her face as a bitter taste hit her tongue. She reached for her tea, sipping quickly to mask it, the jasmine washing it away. “Where was I?” she murmured, glancing at her notes with a slight shake of her head.

Hayao watched, amused by her subtle confusion. “You were asking about my classroom management techniques,” he said smoothly.

“Ah, yes,” Kana replied, clearing her throat. She sipped her tea again, her movements a touch unsteady, though she dismissed the odd sensation. “So, how _

do you handle disruptive students?”

Hayao leaned back, offering practiced responses, his mind already drifting. Kana listened intently, her fingers tightening around her pen, unaware of the lingering warmth in her body. Hayao concealed a smirk behind his cup, savoring her obliviousness.

Their conversation stretched on, Kana’s questions growing sharper—probing his methods, his discipline strategies, his alignment with St. Cecilia’s ethos. “How do you foster respect in the classroom?” she asked, her tone challenging.

“I encourage mutual respect through clear boundaries and engaging lessons,” Hayao replied, his voice steady. Internally, he mused on the irony—respect was irrelevant when he held time itself in his grasp.

“And how do you interpret our school’s values—discipline, integrity, excellence?” Kana pressed, her eyes narrowing.

“They’re the foundation of a structured environment,” Hayao said, his thoughts elsewhere. Structure I can bend, he thought, the stopwatch a silent promise.

Kana nodded, though her scrutiny lingered. “Your answers are polished, Mr. Miyazaki. I’ll need to review them with the board.”

“Thank you, Principal Saionji,” Hayao said, rising. “I look forward to your decision.”

As he turned to leave, a familiar ache stirred within him. He couldn’t resist one more taste. “Actually, could I ask about the curriculum? I’d like to be fully prepared.”

Kana hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. Sit down.”

Hayao complied, his hand slipping into his pocket. As Kana detailed the school’s academic rigor, he waited for an opening. When she turned to fetch a file, he pressed the stopwatch again.

Time stopped.

Kana froze, her hand outstretched, her skirt clinging to her hips. Hayao stood, his eyes alight with lust. He moved behind her, hands grazing her waist as he guided her to the sofa. With a swift motion, he bent her over the armrest, her body yielding to his touch.

He lifted her skirt, revealing lace panties he tugged down to her knees. Her ass was flawless—pale, smooth, inviting. He ran his hands over it, the softness igniting his desire. His cock throbbed as he freed it, pressing the tip against her entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, her tightness gripping him in a way that drew a guttural moan from his lips.

The sensation was overwhelming—her walls clenching around him, warm and unyielding in her stillness. He moved with purpose, each thrust deeper, harder, the sofa creaking beneath them. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he fucked her with unrestrained intensity. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, a rhythm that fueled his arousal. He imagined her awake—moaning, writhing beneath him—but the power of her immobility heightened every sensation. Her body was his to claim, a perfect vessel for his pleasure.

Sweat beaded on his brow, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. The pressure built, a tight coil in his gut, until he couldn’t hold back. With a final, forceful thrust, he came, filling her with his cum in a rush of ecstasy. The release was shattering, waves of pleasure coursing through him as he lingered inside her, savoring the moment. Slowly, he withdrew, a trickle of his seed escaping her. He grabbed a tissue, wiping her clean with meticulous care, then adjusted her clothing and repositioned her in her chair, as if nothing had happened.

Satisfied, Hayao returned to his seat and resumed time.

Kana blinked, a sudden warmth flooding her core. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her heart pounding as an inexplicable sensation gripped her. She shifted uncomfortably, pressing a hand to her chest, her breath uneven. “I… I think that’s all for today,” she said, her voice trembling.

Hayao tilted his head, feigning concern. “Are you alright, Principal Saionji?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze and blushing slightly. “I’m just… feeling off. We’ll continue another time.”

Hayao stood, his smirk subtle but triumphant. “Of course. Thank you for your time.”

As he turned to leave, Kana’s voice stopped him. “Mr. Miyazaki, wait.”

He glanced back, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“My apologies. Perhaps we can discuss St. Cecilia’s spirit another day,” she confessed, her voice a whisper.

“That sounds wise,” Hayao said, his tone thick with satisfaction. “I’ll return whenever you’re ready.”

Kana nodded, still dazed. “Yes, I’ll contact you.”

Hayao bowed slightly and exited, a low chuckle escaping him as he walked the corridor. The job was his, and Kana too, whether she realized it or not. The stopwatch had unveiled a realm of possibilities, and St. Cecilia’s was his to conquer.

In her office, Kana stared at the door, her mind a storm of confusion. Her pulse raced, her body alive with sensations she couldn’t name. She pressed her thighs together, the warmth persisting, and shook her head. Hayao Miyazaki unnerved her, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. 

For a moment, she felt like the flighty students in her care who were always thinking about boys.

***

Hayao unlocked the door to their cramped apartment, the key jamming slightly in the lock as it always did. The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit space that stood in stark contrast to the polished grandeur of St. Cecilia’s. Floral wallpaper clung to the walls, adorned with Nanako’s charcoal sketches—faded remnants of her abandoned artistic dreams. A second-hand couch sagged in the center of the room, its fabric worn thin, while a cluttered coffee table held empty takeout containers and a stack of dog-eared magazines.

Nanako lounged on the couch, her slender frame draped in a faded tank top and cutoff shorts that hugged her hips. Her short, dark hair was mussed, framing a face etched with boredom and a bitter edge. She glanced up from a magazine she’d been flipping through, her dark eyes narrowing as she caught Hayao’s smug grin. 

“Back already?” she muttered, her voice flat, tinged with resentment.

Hayao tossed his bag onto the table, loosening his tie with a casual flick. “Got the job,” he announced, his tone brimming with self-satisfaction.

Nanako sat up, tossing the magazine aside with a scoff. “St. Cecilia’s? That fancy-ass school for rich girls?” She crossed her arms, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Let me guess, you’re already drooling over the idea of fucking every one of those girls. It’s like a goddamn buffet for you, isn’t it?”

Hayao chuckled, unfazed by her biting tone. “You know me too well, Nanako.” He crossed the room in a few strides, his presence dominating the small space. 

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her up from the couch, her body colliding with his. Before she could protest, he captured her lips in a fierce, hungry kiss, his tongue invading her mouth with a possessive edge.

Nanako stiffened for a moment, her hands pushing against his chest, but then she melted into him, her resistance crumbling under the heat of his touch. The kiss deepened, her lips moving against his with a desperate passion that stirred memories of their younger days—back when their love was raw and untainted. Her body responded despite her mind’s protests, a familiar warmth pooling between her thighs, her breath hitching as she pressed herself closer.

Hayao broke the kiss, his breath hot against her ear. “Get on your knees,” he commanded, his voice low and authoritative, laced with a dark promise.

Nanako’s eyes flickered with defiance, but the arousal coursing through her betrayed her. With a resigned sigh, she sank to her knees on the threadbare carpet, her gaze lifting to meet his. Her expression was a tangled mix of submission and lingering resentment. 

“What do you want, Hayao? A blowjob, or you gonna just fuck my face?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of their dynamic.

He smirked, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. “A bit of both. You know how I like it.” His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he freed his hardening cock, the sight of her kneeling before him fueling his desire. “Your naturally slutty nature is why I love you, Nanako.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, her hands moving to rest behind her back as he’d trained her. Leaning forward, she parted her lips, taking him into her mouth with a practiced ease. Her tongue swirled around the tip, teasing the sensitive underside, drawing a low groan from Hayao. Her eyes never left his, wide and glistening, a silent plea for approval mixed with a spark of defiance.

Hayao let her set the pace at first, savoring the wet heat of her mouth, the way her lips stretched around him. She bobbed her head, taking him deeper with each stroke, her tongue working in slow, deliberate circles. But his need for control surged, and he grabbed her short, dark hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he held her still. With a rough thrust, he drove into her throat, fucking her face with unrestrained intensity. Nanako gagged, her hands gripping his thighs for balance, but she didn’t pull away. Her throat constricted around him, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through his body.

He alternated his rhythm, pulling back to let her breathe, her lips and tongue working eagerly to please him. She licked along his shaft, tracing the veins with a slow, deliberate precision that made him groan. Sometimes, she took the initiative, leaning forward to take him deep, her head moving faster in a self-driven rhythm, performing self-irrumatio with a desperate need to prove herself. Her eyes remained locked on his, watering from the effort but unwavering, a silent testament to her submission.

Hayao’s mind wandered as he used her, his thoughts drifting to the pristine halls of St. Cecilia’s. He pictured the students in their crisp uniforms, their skirts hiked up, their bodies frozen under the stopwatch’s power. He imagined their shocked expressions, their soft gasps as he took them, one by one, in empty classrooms or shadowed corridors. The fantasy of bending them to his will, their innocence shattered by his dominance, sent a surge of arousal through him. His thrusts grew harder, more erratic, as he envisioned a particularly pretty student—pigtails bouncing, eyes wide with fear and desire—kneeling before him just as Nanako was now.

Nanako sensed his distraction, her own movements growing more fervent. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder, her tongue flicking against him with a desperate intensity. She pulled him deeper, gagging as she pushed herself to the limit, determined to keep his focus on her. Her hands tightened on his thighs, nails digging into his skin, a silent plea to be seen, to be enough.

Hayao’s breath hitched, the dual sensations of Nanako’s mouth and his fantasies pushing him to the edge. With a guttural growl, he buried himself deep in her throat, his cum spilling in hot, pulsing waves. Nanako swallowed every drop, her throat working reflexively, her eyes closing briefly as she struggled to take it all. When he finally pulled out, she gasped for air, coughing slightly, her lips glistening with saliva and the remnants of his release.

He helped her to her feet, pulling her to him. Nanako’s body trembled against his, her arousal evident in the flush of her cheeks, the way her hips pressed against him. But her eyes held a storm of emotions—shame, desire, and the ever-present weight of their shared past.

“You did well,” Hayao murmured, his lips brushing her forehead. He led her to the couch, pulling her onto his lap. She curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breath still uneven.

“So, when do you start?” she asked, her voice soft, almost fragile.

“Next week,” he replied, his hand stroking her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

Nanako sighed, her tone laced with resignation. “You’re gonna fuck this up, you know. All those girls… you won’t be able to resist.”

Hayao chuckled, his hand sliding lower to squeeze her ass. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

She looked up at him, doubt flickering in her eyes. “Just… be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting caught.”

He tilted her chin up, his gaze locking onto hers. “I won’t. The stopwatch makes sure of that.” His voice was thick with confidence, a promise of the power he wielded.

Nanako nodded, though the unease in her expression lingered. She nestled closer, her body seeking the comfort of his touch even as her mind wrestled with the reality of their relationship. She hated how much she craved him, how her body betrayed her with every kiss, every command. Yet, in his arms, she felt a twisted sense of belonging, a reminder of why she stayed despite the darkness that bound them.

Hayao’s thoughts, however, were already elsewhere. St. Cecilia’s loomed in his mind, a playground of possibilities waiting to be explored. The stopwatch, cold and heavy in his pocket, pulsed with promise. He could have anyone, anything he wanted.

As the evening faded into night, the apartment grew quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside. Hayao held Nanako close, his mind racing with plans, while she clung to him.

What will Hayao do?

Option 1: He decides not to take the job and continues his mediocre life with Nanako.

Option 2: Take the job and focus his efforts first on Principal Saionji.

Option 3: Take the job and focus his efforts on promising members of the faculty.

Option 4: Just let his desires loose and go wild with the students.