Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Ch.3 Hunt for Fresh Meat

The neon-lit streets of Shibuya buzzed with energy as Hayao and Nanako stepped into the chaotic swirl of Tokyo’s most vibrant district. The iconic scramble crossing pulsed with life, waves of people surging in every direction under the glow of towering billboards and flashing advertisements. The air carried the faint hum of distant music, wrapping them in the city’s electric atmosphere. Hayao’s hand rested firmly on Nanako’s lower back, guiding her through the crowd with a quiet confidence that made her heart thud unevenly in her chest.

Nanako felt small amidst the towering buildings and endless faces. She glanced at Hayao, his sharp features catching the neon light, the faint glint of a chain beneath his collar hinting at the stopwatch that held such sway over her life. He exuded a commanding presence, one she both feared and couldn’t fully resist.

As they wove through the throng, Hayao’s eyes scanned the crowd with purpose. His gaze soon locked onto a striking figure near a street vendor: a girl with shimmering silver hair styled in twintails, her gothic lolita dress a stark contrast to the casual chaos around her. Frilly black fabric adorned with lace and ribbons hugged her slender frame, paired with platform boots that added an edge to her delicate appearance. Her pale skin glowed under the lights, and her grey eyes gave her an almost otherworldly allure.

Hayao nudged Nanako, his voice low and firm. “Her. Go talk to her. Make friends.”

Nanako’s stomach twisted, her palms growing clammy. She wasn’t good with strangers; her words often stumbled over themselves with new people, but Hayao’s tone left no room for refusal. Swallowing her nerves, she approached the girl, her steps hesitant.

“Um, hi,” Nanako began, her voice barely audible over the street noise. “I, uh, really like your outfit. It’s… super pretty.”

The girl turned, blinking in mild surprise before a soft smile curved her lips. “Thanks,” she said, her tone warm despite her cool exterior. “I made it myself.”

Nanako’s eyes widened as she saw the silver-haired girl sketchbook, a spark of genuine interest cutting through her awkwardness. “That’s amazing! I’m into art and fashion too—mostly sketching, but I’ve always thought people who can make their own clothes are so talented. I’m sure you must draw some really pretty pictures.”

The girl’s smile grew, and she offered a small, gloved hand. “I’m Ai Kurosaki. First year at Tokyo University of the Arts. Nice to meet you.”

Nanako shook her hand, relief washing over her as the conversation found its footing. “I’m Nanako. I’m still in high school, but I want to study art at university too.”

Their shared passion bridged the gap between them. Ai spoke of her love for surrealism, her eyes lighting up as she described her latest project, while Nanako shyly admitted her obsession with charcoal sketches. Before long, they’d exchanged numbers, promising to meet up sometime to talk more about art. Nanako felt a small swell of pride—she’d done it, despite her clumsiness.

Hayao watched from a short distance, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. When Nanako returned to his side, he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Well done,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “You’ve earned something special.”

Her heart skipped, a mix of dread and anticipation tightening her chest. She had a feeling that she knew what Hayao’s “rewards” meant, and the thought of it happening here, in Shibuya, sent a shiver down her spine. But arguing with him was futile—she’d learned that long ago.

He led her away from the bustling main streets, slipping into a maze of narrow alleys. They stopped in a secluded spot, tucked behind a row of shuttered shops. The alley was dim, its graffiti-streaked walls casting jagged shadows, the air cool and heavy with the scent of damp concrete. It wasn’t private—not really—but the darkness offered a fragile illusion of seclusion.

“Hayao, wait,” Nanako whispered, her voice trembling. “Not here. What if someone sees?”

He ignored her, his hands already lifting her skirt, fingers brushing the bare skin of her thighs. “You don’t get a say,” he growled, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You’re mine, Nanako.”

Her breath caught as he pressed her against the rough wall, the cold surface scraping her palms. She felt his body heat against her back, his hands tugging her panties aside with practiced ease. Panic flared in her chest, but beneath it, a traitorous thread of heat coiled low in her belly—a response she hated herself for.

Hayao didn’t hesitate. He unzipped his pants, and with a single, forceful thrust, he entered her from behind. Nanako gasped, the sudden stretch igniting a jolt of pain and pleasure that made her knees buckle. Her hands gripped the wall for balance as he set a brutal pace, his hips slamming against her with no regard for her reluctance.

The alley swallowed their sounds, the distant hum of Shibuya a faint backdrop to the ragged rhythm of their breaths. Hayao’s hands clamped onto her hips, pulling her back to meet each thrust, his voice a low growl in her ear. “You feel so good, Nanako. So perfect.”

Tears pricked her eyes, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions—fear, shame, and an unwanted rush of sensation that built with every movement. Her body betrayed her, tightening around him as pleasure overtook her resistance. She bit her lip to stifle a cry, her climax crashing over her just as Hayao’s thrusts grew erratic. With a final, deep push, he finished inside her, his grip bruising as he rode out his release.

They stood there for a moment, panting in the shadows. Hayao pulled away, adjusting his clothes with a smug grin, while Nanako leaned against the wall, her legs shaky, her skirt falling back into place. She could feel the evidence of him trickling down her thighs, a stark reminder of what had just happened.

He draped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back toward the lights of Shibuya. “You did great today,” he said, his voice laced with a twisted fondness. “We’re just getting started.”

Nanako said nothing, her gaze fixed on the ground as they rejoined the crowd. She was old enough to understand the weight of her choices—and the chains that bound her to Hayao, tighter than she’d ever imagined.

Continue the story…