Pure Route in a Netorare School

Yuki’s POV

I woke in my room.

For several seconds I simply lay there, staring at the unusually high ceiling and trying to remember how I had ended up here.

Then it all came back.

The shower.

Warm water.

Ren’s large hands.

His calm voice, repeatedly coaxing me out from behind my silence.

“Because I want you…”

I had said it myself.

Not half-asleep, not lost in overwhelming sensation.

I had looked him in the eyes and admitted it.

The memory sent heat flooding into my face.

My body felt strangely light, as though I had been carried in someone’s arms all night and only now set down on the floor.

My muscles still ached softly — especially between my thighs and in the small of my back — but it wasn’t pain so much as a warm, lingering reminder.

I sat up slowly, then stood and walked to the mirror.

A completely different Yuki looked back at me.

My hair was tangled from sleep and fell loosely over my shoulders.

My cheeks still held a faint flush.

My lips looked slightly swollen.

Daylight from the window fell directly on the reflection.

I turned sideways.

My buttocks were still flushed. Separate imprints of his palm overlapped one another, forming an uneven pattern.

It should have looked ugly.

Probably.

But I kept staring.

A strange, heavy feeling rose inside me — a mixture of embarrassment, fear, and almost shameful pride.

He had left these marks on me.

Not by accident.

Not in the heat of the moment that is already forgotten by morning.

Every trace meant that everything that happened during the night had been real.

My ass burned a vivid pink-red.

Dark hickeys ran along the inner sides of my thighs; some were already turning blue.

On my chest, just above the nipples, the marks of his teeth remained — not deep, but very noticeable.

Ren had bitten exactly where the skin was most sensitive.

The sight alone made my nipples tighten instantly.

My pussy clenched traitorously and ached with emptiness.

I looked away sharply.

“Don’t think about it. Don’t remember. Don’t…”

But a thin trickle of wetness was already sliding slowly down the inside of my thigh.

I felt the cold drop and pressed my legs together harder.

The memories came flooding back anyway.

How he had held me.

How calmly he had said “good girl” while I came again and again.

How his voice had sounded when I tried to crawl away and he simply answered “no.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed for several seconds, trying to drive the images out.

It didn’t help.

The moment I closed my eyes I heard his voice again.

Calm.

Demanding.

Certain that I would answer.

I pressed my palms to my cheeks.

— I’m still Hayato’s girl.

Those words should have snapped me back to reality.

Instead a sharp, unpleasant ache pierced my chest.

Hayato.

Right now he was probably thinking I was spending the weekend with my family or resting somewhere far from school.

My mother was certain I had gone with him.

And I was in Ren’s house.

Sleeping in the room prepared for me.

Studying the marks of his hands in the mirror.

I looked away from the reflection.

Only then did I notice the bed.

Something neatly folded lay on it.

Black.

I stepped closer.

A dress.

The fabric felt cool and incredibly smooth — like liquid silk, only denser. I ran my fingers over the folds.

It caught the light with a soft sheen. Heavy, expensive. The kind of thing you would never find in an ordinary shop.

I smiled and felt myself blushing again.

— Did he really choose this for me?

I pictured Ren in a store.

That huge, confident man walking among racks of women’s clothing.

Imagined him calmly examining dresses, testing the fabric, choosing the size.

Maybe even picturing how it would look on me.

My lips curved into a small, foolish, almost happy smile.

I tried to hide it at once, even though the room was still empty.

— His assistant must have ordered it.

But I didn’t believe my own words.

Ren had remembered my favourite desserts.

Remembered the manga I read.

Prepared a separate room for me.

He could have chosen the dress as well.

Not simply something beautiful.

The one in which he wanted to see me.

I pressed the fabric to my chest and, before I quite realised it, unfolded the dress.

A deep neckline that plunged almost to the waist.

Thin straps that met at the throat. A high side slit so extreme that my entire thigh was left bare.

A small golden brooch with a dark stone at the waist.

The skirt was long but light; the slit would show my leg all the way up with every step.

I put it on.

The fabric moulded to my body like a second skin.

My breasts lay heavy and almost completely exposed.

The nipples showed dark and hard through the thin material at once.

If you looked a moment longer, the areolas became visible too.

Beautiful.

Adult.

Dangerous.

I had never worn anything like it.

The dress did not try to hide my figure. On the contrary — it emphasised everything I was used to concealing with loose sweaters and careful posture.

My breasts.

My waist.

My hips.

Every curve.

And below… when I turned slightly the fabric tightened, and for a second a soft line appeared between my legs.

My first instinct was to find underwear at once.

Anything.

Even just panties.

I had already taken a step toward the wardrobe when I stopped.

“Master…”

The word rose in my head by itself. I corrected it immediately:

“I mean Ren.”

But inside I already knew.

He would be pleased if I came to him exactly like this.

Without underwear.

Only in the dress he had chosen.

With his marks still burning under the thin fabric.

I looked at myself in the mirror once more.

My cheeks were on fire.

But I did not look for underwear.

Instead I slowly adjusted the straps, ran my palms over my hips to smooth the folds, and quietly exhaled:

— Master will be pleased…

I froze.

The word had come out completely naturally.

Not under an order.

Not when my mind was gone.

Here.

Alone.

I corrected myself quickly:

— That is, Ren.

Silence.

The reflection watched me with flushed cheeks.

I clenched the fabric of the dress at my hip.

“Ren will be pleased if I come to him like this.”

The phrasing felt safer.

The meaning remained the same.

I wanted to see his reaction.

Wanted his gaze to linger on me.

Wanted him to understand at once that I had remembered his rule.

That I had not needed to be ordered.

I stopped at the door.

My heart was beating faster and faster.

I could still turn back.

Put on underwear.

Choose ordinary clothes.

Pretend I had not understood why Ren left exactly this dress.

But my hand was already on the door handle.

“He will be pleased.”

That thought was enough.

I straightened my back.

Shoulders back.

Chin a little higher.

The way he had once taught me.

Only now I was doing it not for Hayato.

And not even for myself.

I was doing it because I wanted to appear before Ren exactly like this.

Beautiful.

Bold.

And obedient enough that he would understand everything without a single word of explanation.

The door opened.

By the time I came back to myself I was already in the hall.

Ren stood by the wide staircase.

In a dark suit that fitted his broad shoulders perfectly.

The white shirt stretched slightly across his chest when he raised a hand to give short instructions.

His tie was loosened by a single knot — the only liberty in his appearance.

He looked like a man used to every conversation ending exactly the way he decided.

Tall, muscular, calm.

Even standing still he occupied space as if the entire house belonged to him alone.

Several cleaners moved briskly around him.

In neat black-and-white uniforms, gloves and cloths in their hands.

They were diligently wiping away the traces of the previous night — stains on the floor, the crumpled sheets they carried out of the bedroom.

All of them were blushing.

Some carefully avoided Ren’s gaze; others kept casting quick, hungry glances at him from under their lashes.

Not at the luxurious interior.

Not at the expensive furniture.

At him.

Ren looked as though the house was not merely his, but an extension of himself.

I stopped on the top step.

And for the first time I caught myself thinking…

I liked feeling small next to him.

Not weak.

Simply small.

As if all the noise around became unimportant because the man standing there could withstand anything.

I approached more quietly than usual. My heels barely clicked on the marble. I stopped behind his back and heard the voice of the girl standing closest to him.

— You’re very handsome… If it’s possible… your number…

She spoke almost in a whisper, but I caught every word.

She wore an ordinary maid’s uniform.

Not the perverted outfit I had spent last night in.

Just a neat uniform.

And still she looked at him as if she was already imagining herself in my place.

I studied her carefully. An ordinary face.

An unremarkable figure. Not a beauty. Not like the girls who surrounded Hayato.

Just a girl who had decided she could approach him.

Anger rose fast and hot.

— Hey, bitch! Get the hell out of here!

My voice came out rougher than I intended, laced with real venom.

I stepped forward and pressed my whole body against Ren.

Breasts, stomach, thighs.

The thin fabric of the dress hid almost nothing.

His cologne hit my nose — expensive, clean, slightly woody.

It completely covered the heavy, animal scent that still clung to me after the night.

And that upset me a little.

— I asked: have you finished your work?

The girl looked at Ren as if hoping for support.

He simply looked at me.

A barely noticeable smile appeared in his eyes.

As if he liked seeing this new side of me.

I was not used to fighting for my place.

But right now I did not want to give it up.

Ren did not even turn at once.

With one large hand he simply covered my breast over the dress and pressed me firmly against him.

His fingers settled exactly on the nipple and squeezed.

— Ahhh…

The sound escaped on its own.

In those huge hands I felt safe. Comfortable.

Even in heels I barely reached his shoulder.

He was too tall.

Too big. And precisely because of that I felt… protected.

Ren slowly turned his head toward the girl. His gaze became heavy and cold.

— Hey. Didn’t you hear what my woman said?

The girl went pale.

Her eyes widened.

She mumbled something, turned, and almost ran for the exit.

The other cleaners hurried their movements, carefully avoiding eye contact.

I watched her leave and felt myself growing wet again between the legs.

It excited me far more than it should have.

Next to him I could say whatever I wanted.

I could be rough, jealous, possessive. And he would not stop me.

He would back me.

Because now I was his woman.

He smiled.

The corner of his mouth lifted only slightly, but it was enough to make everything inside me clench.

— Good girl.

His hands settled on my breasts.

Not over the dress — he slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric and squeezed hard.

Fingers closed around the heavy curves; thumbs pressed directly onto the already tight nipples.

I had not even managed to inhale before he lifted me.

My feet left the floor. The heels swayed helplessly in the air.

I was pressed against him breast to breast, face to face.

Ren leaned down and took my mouth.

He did not kiss. He took.

My lips opened at once under the pressure.

His tongue pushed deep, possessive, without the slightest gentleness.

He dragged it slowly across my palate, then the insides of my cheeks, collecting my saliva, and immediately began giving me his own.

Thick. Warm.

I swallowed. Every time he squeezed my breasts harder a fresh portion flowed onto my tongue, and I accepted it obediently, feeling myself grow even wetter between the legs.

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Goosebumps rose on my neck. My nipples pulsed beneath his fingers in time with my heartbeat.

One hand slid lower.

Across my stomach.

Under the slit of the dress.

Two thick fingers spread my swollen, already slick lips without warning and pushed in to the base.

I jerked, but Ren held me by the breast so firmly I could not pull away.

The fingers moved roughly from the start.

Deep.

Finding the spot that always made my vision darken.

His thumb settled on my clit and began rubbing it in short, strong circles.

My stomach clenched.

My legs tensed of their own accord; my toes curled inside the heels.

My pussy spasmed around his fingers and hot wetness spilled out.

I did not even manage to cry out — Ren still held my mouth with his, forcing me to swallow both his saliva and my own moans.

The orgasm hit hard and dirty.

My body arched in his arms.

The muscles of my stomach contracted so violently it hurt. White spots flashed behind my closed eyelids.

I felt his fingers keep moving, drawing every last tremor out of me until consciousness floated away completely.

When he finally set me back on my feet, my legs buckled.

I clung to the lapel of his jacket, breathing hard.

My chest heaved. Between my legs everything still pulsed rhythmically, pushing out the remaining wetness.

I realised I had come again.

That I had soaked his hand.

But when I lifted the edge of the dress with trembling fingers I saw something strange.

The fabric was still dry.

All the wetness had either stayed inside or run in a thin stream straight onto the marble floor between my heels.

Ren calmly wiped his fingers on the inner side of my thigh and said in a low voice:

— I know my Yuki — I know exactly what my little cumdump needs. I couldn’t let this evening leave you without pleasure. And I still decided to keep your dress clean.

I looked up at him.

My cheeks burned. My lips were swollen. Between my legs the residual spasms continued to clench.

Then he lifted me into his arms again.

I was already growing used to the gesture.

Ren carried me as easily as if I really were a princess who should not be made to walk. And every time I found myself in his arms I felt the same strange mixture.

Safety.

And complete vulnerability.

I could do nothing if he chose not to let me go. Yet being vulnerable in front of him somehow did not feel frightening.

On the contrary.

It was worth it.

I settled more comfortably, wrapping my arms around his neck, and again caught the scent of expensive cologne. Warm and complex, it suited his suit and the dominant presence he wore today.

And still I felt a little disappointed.

I did not want cologne.

I wanted him.

The heavy male scent that clung to his skin after training.

The smell of strength, heat, and something primitive that from the first second made me instantly wet and happier than anything else in the world.

— Master, — I said quietly, pressing my nose to his neck, — I don’t think you should wear cologne.

Ren looked at me with mild surprise.

Then smirked.

— You don’t like it?

— I do, — I admitted. — But without it you smell better.

He smiled with the corner of his mouth.

I felt the vibration of that quiet laugh travel straight into my chest.

And he kissed me.

Gently.

Too gently.

Soft lips, slow movements, no pressure.

No sharp thrusts.

No wild, animal hunger.

Ren deliberately refused to answer the way I wanted.

As if testing me.

Forcing me to show for myself what I lacked.

Irritation mixed with shame.

He understood perfectly what I was waiting for.

He wanted me to say it out loud again.

Yesterday’s rule had not disappeared.

Every time tell the truth.

Every time admit my own desires myself.

I pulled back only a few centimetres. My breathing was already uneven and my face burned so hot it must have been redder than the cleaners’ uniforms.

— Master…

— Mm?

He watched me calmly.

Waiting.

I hated that expression.

And I was already beginning to need it.

— Don’t kiss me so gently.

— Then how should I?

What a shameless man.

I could see how much he enjoyed making me choose the words.

— So that I stop thinking again.

— Not precise enough.

My heart beat faster still.

I forced myself to meet his eyes.

— Please… ravage my little mouth with your big tongue and make me drink your delicious saliva!

Silence hung between us for a few seconds.

Then his expression changed.

The soft smile vanished.

His gaze became heavy and possessive.

— Good girl.

My own words made my head spin.

Heat flooded my cheeks.

Am I a whore?

A real, greedy, filthy whore who begs to have her mouth used?

He finally gave me what I wanted.

He crushed my lips hard and deep, without any tenderness.

His tongue pushed in at once — thick, hot, demanding.

He dragged it across my palate, over my teeth, along the insides of my cheeks, gathering my saliva, then drove his own into me with a slow, powerful thrust.

Thick.

Warm.

Carrying that faint lemon tang that always made my lower stomach tighten.

I swallowed greedily.

Every time he pressed me harder against his chest a fresh portion spilled onto my tongue, and I accepted it obediently, feeling myself grow wet and hot between the legs again.

My heart pounded so violently it echoed in my ears and temples.

My nipples hardened under the thin fabric of the dress and pulsed in time.

My pussy clenched around nothing so tightly it almost hurt, and I clearly felt a new thick trickle of wetness slide slowly down the inside of my thigh and onto his arm.

I answered just as greedily, completely forgetting the cleaners who were still somewhere in the house.

They were probably watching.

Yesterday that thought would have made me die of shame.

Today a completely different feeling rose inside me.

Let them watch.

Let them know whose place I occupy.

I moaned straight into his mouth, no longer trying to hold back.

The sounds that came out were wet, filthy, nothing like my usual voice.

At last I took the deepest, final swallow.

He slowly released me.

My lips burned.

My chin shone with saliva.

A thin, trembling thread still stretched between us.

Only for this weekend.

I am his whore…

Only for the weekend?

Only until Monday.

But why, then, did the mere thought that afterwards he might hold someone else make a cold anger rise inside me?

I did not have time to find the answer.

Ren carried me out of the house and walked toward the large black SUV parked in front of the entrance.

This time he did not put me behind the wheel.

He opened the passenger door and carefully settled me on the wide leather seat.

The moment his hands left me the space around felt suddenly too large.

Empty.

Lonely.

I automatically reached after him, then stopped myself in time.

“What’s happening to me?”

He had only stepped away to close the door and walk around the car.

A few seconds.

Yet I already missed the weight of his hands.

Ren sat behind the wheel.

The engine woke with a low growl.

He placed one hand on the steering wheel and with the other calmly touched my knee, as if he had known in advance that I needed the contact.

The tension drained away at once.

I looked at his large palm resting over the slit of the expensive black dress.

Then at his calm face.

At the broad shoulders that barely fitted beneath the perfectly tailored jacket.

And for the first time I thought not about how Hayato’s girlfriend should behave.

But about something else entirely.

How should Ren’s woman behave?