Fushimi Roku initially didn’t take this matter to heart, just thought it was a little complaint after crossing over, finding an excuse to race on the streets, and casually boasting a bit.
But now he remembered everything.
No wonder Minamoto Tamako always suspected he had some unspeakable secrets...
No wonder Minamoto Tamako previously said he had some superpower...
This guy really hid deeply; they’ve been together for so long, and Minamoto Tamako hadn’t mentioned a word.
Fushimi Roku carefully recalled, he remembered the girl in the back seat had a heavy nasal sound, likely because Minamoto Tamako caught a cold from the rain—back during the Great Snow Mountain exam, Minamoto Tamako also caught a cold when she said she was cold.
Minamoto Tamako was still drunk, she used the can’s tab to cut open Fushimi Roku’s shirt. He repeatedly advised her and asked what she was trying to do. Minamoto Tamako smirked evilly while drunk, her expression quite sly, saying word by word: "I’m, going, to, punish, you!"
Fushimi Roku suspected he heard wrong, he hurriedly argued that he hadn’t lied, but reasoning with someone drunk was impossible, so he had to let Minamoto Tamako strip his upper body bare.
Minamoto Tamako somehow got two wooden clippers, likely from the balcony used for drying socks, her small hands moved like a crab, pinching the clippers open and close. She straddled Fushimi Roku and slowly moved the clippers close to Mr. Lu, emitting a sinister laugh.
Fushimi Roku saw things going wrong and twisted his body to try to avoid Minamoto Tamako’s wooden clip attack, but he was tightly bound and couldn’t break free.
Seeing the clippers getting closer, Fushimi Roku was desperate, the iron frame of the bed bent and deformed, making tooth-aching metal friction sounds, his wrists were chafed with blood marks.
This was about a man’s dignity; he could not condone it!
Minamoto Tamako pressed the wooden clip to Fushimi Roku’s chest, like a tenon structure, stuck on his black Ghost Claw Mark.
"Heh heh... You look like you’re really looking forward to it..."
"How does it feel... like it?... not like it, doesn’t matter..."
"Doesn’t seem like you’re sincerely reflecting... then I’ll add a bit more force..."
She slowly released the clippers, laughing more wantonly, it was the first time Fushimi Roku saw such an unhinged expression on Minamoto Tamako’s face—she really had a jinxed look when drunk.
At first, it felt a bit cool, but then it started to hurt, and the pain increased.
Fushimi Roku simply broke his own thumb with one hand, freed his right hand from the handcuffs quickly removing the clippers, then untied the rope on his left hand, pressing his thumb to reset the dislocated finger.
Seeing things going poorly, Minamoto Tamako turned to flee, but she couldn’t even walk straight now, let alone escape quickly, flipping off the bed immediately falling flat, then getting up and bumping into the bedside cabinet.
Fushimi Roku reached out to grab her onto the bed, pinching the back of her neck, forcing her to lie on his leg.
"Let me go! Hic... Quickly, let me go!"
Minamoto Tamako flailed around like a cat, showing off the lump on her forehead from bumping.
Fushimi Roku raised his hand high and swung it down, right onto Minamoto Tamako’s peach-shaped round butt, making a crisp sound.
Minamoto Tamako’s body tensed suddenly, she widened her eyes, let out a soft cry of ’eeyah,’ closing her legs inward.
Through the thin safety pants, Fushimi Roku could see it tremble elastically, like jelly, feeling even better than jelly.
"Do you know why it’s wrong?" he questioned.
Minamoto Tamako’s voice dropped by eight degrees, she lay there sniffling for a moment, holding onto Fushimi Roku’s pant leg: "I didn’t... I’m not wrong... waaah..."
Fushimi Roku delivered another slap, with more force, the room echoed with a blast, making his palm slightly numb.
Minamoto Tamako’s body arched up, tears and drool flowed together. She raised herself with tense thighs, trembling calves.
After a moment, she curled up, twisting around for a while, slowly regaining some sense: "No, stop it... don’t hit anymore waaah..."
"Did you learn why it’s wrong?"
Fushimi Roku couldn’t relent, the matter was serious, he must restore dignity, letting Minamoto Tamako know the consequences of doing wrong, engraving it deeply within her, so she wouldn’t repeat after getting drunk again.
"I, I know what’s wrong..." Minamoto Tamako begged almost coquettishly.
"What’s wrong?" Fushimi Roku pursued.
"Don’t, dunno..." Minamoto Tamako’s mind was hazy.
Fushimi Roku delivered another slap, adopting a parent lecturing child posture, letting Minamoto Tamako taste more slaps.
After the bang subsided, Minamoto Tamako lay on his leg, her body shaking, breathing heavily like ’ha-chi ha-chi,’ her thighs tightening and rubbing back and forth, saying vague begging words:
"No more... really can’t take it..."
"Uh... I, I know what’s wrong now..."
"Bottom’s gonna break... waaah..."
Fushimi Roku waited half a day until Minamoto Tamako lay limply silent, he continued to coerce: "Say sorry!"
Minamoto Tamako buried her face into his leg, murmuring: "S-sorry..."
"Louder, can’t hear!" Fushimi Roku pushed for more.
Minamoto Tamako’s voice grew softer, she only said one syllable, gradually trailing off, becoming completely inaudible.
Fushimi Roku leaned over, pinching Minamoto Tamako’s little face, trying to turn her when he noticed she was already asleep.
Fushimi Roku was unsatisfied, still wanting to deliver two more slaps, but worried about waking Minamoto Tamako up. He weighed for a moment, reason prevailed, and he stood up to carry Minamoto Tamako back to her room.