Mika spoke about conflict resolution, her fingers dancing across a digital tablet for a whole ten minutes. She ignored Makoto completely, her serenity a fortress. The view count stayed steady at 2,000.
Makoto decided it was time for the first breach. He reached up, his fingers light as a feather, and began to tickle the sensitive, soft skin of Mika's ribs, right where the silk of her blouse met the high waistband of her skirt.
Mika's body gave a tiny, involuntary jerk. "Eeek!!" A tiny, high-pitched squeak escaped her lips. On the screen, the avatar's shoulders twitched.
"Sensei? You okay?" the chat scrolled. "Did you glitch?"
"Just a bug," Mika said quickly, her face flushing pink. She swatted Makoto's hand away, her glare promising murder. "Just a… software glitch." She adjusted her glasses, a movement that the mo-cap translated into a calm, confident gesture.
Makoto smirked as he moved higher. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over her earlobe, his tongue darting out to give the soft flesh a wet, lingering lick.
Mika's hand trembled. The chat on the monitor was moving at light speed.
"SENSEI LOOKS FLUSTERED!"
"IS THE AC BROKEN? I CAN HELP YOU FIX IT, SENSEI!"
Mika whispered into the mic and tried to continue her presentation. "The heat of competition can be… intense in the workplace. But try not to let it get the best of you." She closed her eyes for a second, her chest rising and falling in a shallow, frantic rhythm.
The view count had increased to 3,200 and was continuing to climb.
Makoto slowly stood up, moving behind the chair. He placed his hands on Mika's shoulders, his thumbs digging into the tense muscles of her neck. He began a slow, rhythmic massage, his fingers kneading the flesh with deliberate pressure.
He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his raw masculine scent overwhelmed her. Then he moved his hands forward, his palms sliding down the front of her blouse.
Makoto didn't need to unbutton it, just simply cupped her breasts through the thin fabric. His thumbs rolling over Mika's nipples until they were hard, sharp points.
Mika let out a sharp, muffled gasp. On the screen, the avatar's eyes went wide.
"Interns. I need a quick pause for technical … umm… diagnostics…" She reached out, her fingers fumbling for the Mute button on her console.
But Makoto was faster. He caught her wrist, pinning it to the armrest, while his other hand continued its brutal, rhythmic torment of her chest.
"You're doing a great job, Mi-Sensei. Keep going!" Makoto whispered, his voice a vibrating rumble that the high-sensitivity mic picked up as a distant hum. "The Interns must be very impressed."
Mika looked at him. Her brown-pink eyes were dark, glazed with a mixture of fury and mounting arousal.
She still had ten minutes left on the clock. "I'm going to finish this, then it will be his turn to learn his lesson," She thought and bit her lower lip, her teeth digging into the soft flesh to keep from moaning.
Then she turned back to the livestream. "Don't panic if you face trouble during your important moments. Take a deep breath, think of the worst case, but keep going!"
"Oh ho! Let's see if you can follow your own advice then, darling!" Makoto thought and grinned. He wasn't done yet. His hands started sliding up the insides of Mika's thighs, pushing the charcoal skirt higher and higher until the sheer, lace tops of her stockings were exposed.
Mika's legs began to tremble, her knees knocking together. "In some cases, a strategic retreat is necessary... to assess the situation and prepare for the next steps," she managed to wheeze into the mic, her voice cracking beautifully.
Makoto didn't hesitate when he dived under the desk. What he saw next was a mess of cables and the smell of Mika's arousal. Her panties were a simple, elegant black silk string. They were already soaked, the fabric clinging transparently to her swollen, weeping folds.
He could see the glistening sheen of her arousal, a viscous nectar that pooled at the very bottom of her panties, dripping slowly onto the high-quality leather of the chair.
The sound of the stream above him was distorted. The tapping of Mika's keys, the low hum of her breathing, and the constant, rhythmic thump of her heart filled the room.
Makoto reached out, his thumbs pulling the silk to the side.
Mika's cunt was waxed smooth, her skin flushed pink. Her inner lips were engorged, peeking out from her labia like a blooming flower, glistening with shameless wetness. Her clit was a hard, ruby-red bead, throbbing in time with the flickering lights of the PC.
Makoto leaned in, his tongue darting out to take the first, salty-sweet taste.
Above him, Mika let out a high, keening wail that she desperately tried to mask as a cough.
"The market… mmmph… is… AH… volatile right now! Don't submit your… resignation letter, ahh… when you don't have an… offer in hand first," she shrieked into the mic.
On the monitors, the silver-haired avatar was performing a bizarre, jittery dance as the webcam struggled to track Mika's convulsing body. The chat was a vertical blur of "???" and "IS SENSEI SICK?!", "ARE YOU OKAY, SENSEI?", "DAMN! YOUR VOICE IS SOOOO HOT TONIGHT!"
The view count had jumped to 5,500, with no sign of slowing down.
Makoto ignored the chaos. He buried his face in Mika's pussy, his tongue hardening as he began a relentless assault. He used his fingers to spread her labia, exposing the pink, wet entrance. Then he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them up in a come-hither motion while his tongue relentlessly attacked her clit.
He sucked her clit into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive bead, while his fingers slid inside her, stretching her tight, wet walls until she was sobbing.
Squish. Squish. The sound of his tongue and fingers working her was wet and lewd in the quiet room. The wet sounds were surely being picked up by the mic.
Above him, Mika let out a strangled cry. She slammed her hand over her mouth, muffling the sound just in time.
"Sensei?!" The chat went wild. "What was that noise?"
"Just… dropped my pen!" Mika choked out, her voice an octave higher than usual. Her heels were drumming against the floor, her hands clawing at the desk. She was losing the battle. Her inner walls were clenching around Makoto's fingers in a series of violent, involuntary spasms.
"F-Fuck… Interns… our seminar is… terminated early today!" With a final, desperate lunge, Mika slammed her hand onto the End Stream button. The webcam went black. The RGB lights remained, casting the room in a bruised, violet twilight.
The moment the red "LIVE" light died, Mika screamed. "AHHHH!" She bucked her hips, slamming her crotch against Makoto's face. She came hard, her body shaking, her heels drumming against the floorboards.
She grabbed Makoto's hair, pulling him into her as she rode out the waves of pleasure. He drank it all: the sudden, violent gush of her release, feeling the spasms of her walls against his fingers.
Silence rushed back into the room, broken only by Mika's ragged, sobbing breaths and the wet sounds of Makoto continuing his work beneath the desk. "Makoto…" she gasped, her head falling back, her hair cascading over the edge of the chair. "You… you bastard…"
She arched her back as her climax finally shattered her, a hot, gushing flood of her release soaking his face and the floor beneath her.
A soft, polite knock on the door broke the heavy silence.
"Mika-chan? I brought you some tea to help with your studies."
Makoto froze, his face still glistening with Mika's fluid. "Mafuyu?"
Mika's eyes snapped open. The blissed-out wreck was gone, slowly replaced by a cold, calculating smile. "Come in, Mafuyu-san," Mika called out, her voice remarkably steady. "I just caught a sneaky thief."
Makoto scrambled to get out from under the desk, intending to bolt for the window, but the door opened before he could even stand.
Mafuyu stepped in, carrying a tray. She took one look at the scene: Mika, disheveled and panting in the chair, her skirt around her waist, and Makoto on the floor, covered in evidence of his "cleaning".
"Mafuyu-nee! I can explain! I was just cleaning..." Makoto started, backing away.
Mafuyu didn't look shocked or angry. She simply set the tray on the dresser, turned around, and locked the door with a firm, final click.
Makoto's smile faltered. "Mafuyu-nee?"
"Cleaning?" Mafuyu asked, her voice a soft, maternal murmur. She walked over to him, her eyes dark with a quiet fire. "You lied to me, Makoto-kun! You used my kindness to play a very dirty game."
She looked at Mika. "What did he do to you, Mika-chan?"
"He bullied me... and interrupted my studies," Mika purred, standing up and smoothing her blouse. She reached into Yuna's desk drawer and pulled out a familiar black leather choker and a pair of steel handcuffs.
"You thought you were the hunter tonight, didn't you, darling?" Mika said, walking toward him with the heels of her pumps clicking like a countdown.
She stepped in front of him with the black leather choker dangling from her index finger. The small silver bell attached to the ring let out a soft, mocking jingle that seemed to vibrate through Makoto's very bones.
"The Interns gave me some excellent suggestions for our marriage warm-up, Makoto," Mika whispered, leaning in to lick a stray, cooling drop of her own nectar from his cheek. "One of the top-tier donors suggested an Endurance Test. Let's see exactly how long you can last, darling."