Meat Ninja: Robin - Ch. 03 by darrkmysticrayvn

E03: Hallway of Shame

This work was created by a single author with no particular cultural or religious affiliation and contains depictions of a broad range of sexual fetishes, all used in service of character development and narrative progression. If you find yourself offended, please note that the relevant keywords were provided upfront. Rated D for Degeneracy and absolutely not for anyone under the age of 18, enforced strictly by the--Honors System.

Robin scrubbed the same tile for the sixth time. Not because it was dirty, but because it looked like it should've been dirty. It felt like something dirty must've happened here--happened everywhere!

The room was bare: Blank walls and black tiles with nothing to distinguish it. It seems to be made for cleaning, alongside the stone well built into the center of the chamber. An opening in the wall disgorged water into a thin canal which ran to the other side and vanished into a grey, vertical slit. It doubled as the room's only decoration, as well as--well--a privy.

You were supposed to pee in it.

You literally were made to shit where you eat.

The truly brave would bathe in the same water or else be made to do without. Robin was not that brave. Not yet.

She kept scrubbing.

The imprisoned kunoichi's uniform was a slate-gray prisoner's robe with sleeves rolled high and neckline opened to the naval. There were zero buttons done up because there were no buttons to begin with--and probably for her that was a good thing. Robin's breasts already stretched the fabric to the breaking point, and buttons would have been a mere hopeless gesture against the inevitable.

The cotton was paper-thin, visibly lost in the war against her nipples. Robin's areolas were round and dark, forming discernable circles beneath the cloth. The tips of her teats brushed the interior of the cheap uniform with every bounce, showing on the outside like dancing, playful shadows.

The jiggling could not be helped. Neither could the fact that Robin's breasts fell out every now and then. The generous opening shifted with every stroke of her scrub, and every time she pushed forward while on her hands and knees, she risked popping out a soft, round tit.

The wardrobe malfunctions didn't stop there.

Robin's ass seemed to balloon inside the prisoner's robe. The effect should have been impossible, for the costume was designed to be anything but alluring. Yet, the textile was so cheap, so tight, that it ripped the first time she got down on her knees. Now, perfect white thighs flashed with every squat, and rinsing a rag meant an impromptu thong formed, riding high into the crack of her ass. When she wriggled her hips--hard at work in the mundane punishment while waiting for real judgement to arrive--the view was a magnificent one indeed.

Robin threw the rag away.

She got up.

Immediately the skirt bunched up at her groin. The young woman breathed in deeply and looked down. She didn't even know why this always happened, but sometimes, she got a (small) thrill from feeling her clothes clinging to her groin.

The rough material pushed up against her bared pussy; and inside the fabric, the lips of Robin's vagina were hopelessly, clearly outlined. The mound formed into an artist's rendition of the most beautiful--and obvious--camel's toe, with the cotton being also very susceptible to sweat whenever she did anything.

Drawing water.

Scrubbing floors.

When moisture gathered, Robin might as well have been wearing nothing at all.

The kunoichi's back arched. Her dark hair clung to her neck and shoulders. Her robe was once again riding so high that Robin gasped despite herself. She took a few steps and could not stop a small moan from escaping her lips. It was like walking over a tightrope, only the rope was not balanced under her foot but buried between her legs. Robin was straddling a taut, invisible line that rubbed noticeably up against her cunt with every step, and it somehow only got worse with the weight she was carrying.

Water.

In a pail; and dumped splashing into the well at the center of the room with every trip.

The young woman turned around. Whirling made the tear in her pants show flickers of bouncing white cheeks, and went back at it.

Started again.

Bucket.

Well.

Rag and scrub and Robin also had a mop.

Lying unused in a corner of the room at present.

Also, there was also no one watching.

Not a single ninja. No peeping guards. Not even a goddamn rat. The whole compound felt like it had been evacuated just so she could clean for nobody in particular.

Robin tried to stay positive. The kunoichi said out loud, looking up at the ceiling: "It's okay. He's probably just giving me time. Letting me cool off. Any time now. Any time now."

Robin didn't even know what day it was. She had long since lost track of time since the Guild took her in. They made her perform menial labors with her ample rear bouncing all along the way. Her breasts jumped, fell out of her buttonless robe again, and she tried to push them back in and couldn't resist a squeeze.

This should've been a scene. Yet, Robin was performing to an audience of zero.

"It's okay," she kept repeating breathlessly, even as her cleavage pushed together. The soft, fleshy orbs rolled against each other while lubricated by her gathering sweat. "Anytime now. A creak of the door. A summon from the GM, and I'll find him there. Waiting. Aloof. Worried sick (the lazy jerk!) but I'd melt into his arms and he'll kiss me and we'll maybe fight a little and then we'll go home together."

Robin was narrating her own fantasies to the well, and while she did so, she put a hand to her crotch and gently rubbed between the camel toe. She bit her lower lip and whimpered, with her brown eyes growing misty a little. As it turns out, the well seemed rather indifferent to her performance.

"Our home," Robin declared to the stoic structure, her voice rising. Now her eyes weren't misty anymore. Yet, they were clearly watering with anger. "Our--"

Robin paused. Her breath caught. And when she tried to let it out to calm herself down, it came out a pathetic hiccup.

Then--

Robin wasn't even walking fast. Somehow, she seemed to be covering great distances in the blink of an eye.

She had thrown the rag over her shoulder, and the bucket hung dangling from one arm like a purse. She snatched up the mop along the way and twirled it once like a baton. She reached the door and opened it.

Went out.

You weren't supposed to open the door, for it wasn't locked but it was understood that you only went through it when it was already opened for you. On the other side was an empty hallway; and at the end of that hallway was a staircase leading up to another empty hallway. There was another staircase, and another hallway. And more staircases. And more empty hallways.

Until--

At the end of the very last empty hallway was the guildmaster's office.

Robin took her first step into the first hallway, only it wasn't empty anymore. Nobody knew where they came from, or how it was that they seemed to be birthed by the blank, empty walls. Masked and silent. Deadly and professional. Guild secret police were positions where kunoichi like Robin--shinobi like her husband (the jerk!)--went if they survived long enough. The station was a sundown prior to true retirement; and if you've made it this far, you've seen enough, done enough to deserve a final, well-earned reprieve.

Robin's feet slapped over the polished wooden floor, and her robe clung to her thighs like frustrated regret. Her sleeves fell, her collar hanging ajar to her slim waist. Inside the hopeless neckline, her tits bounced eagerly. A calf muscle twitched somewhere, like a cat about to pounce, as the first ninja stepped forward.

The--man? It was impossible to tell. The secret police uniforms were baggy, loose enough that any evidence of gender disappeared outright. The masks were see-through sieves, with black, armored mesh that fully concealed the identity of the wearer. All ninja were tools of the guild, but the police remained in a class all their own. They were trained to uphold the ironclad laws of this place, as a very part of the sacred building in which they were housed.

The ninja held out a wordless hand, and Robin took one look at him, twirled the mop in her hand one more time, before bringing the end down on his wrist with a sickening crack.

"Agh!"

The man fell backwards, clutching his broken arm.

So, Robin thought darkly, human after all.

She hardly needed to have asked, for she remembered just then the only other agent she had met face-to-face. The man who had pushed her head down on his dick in that dirty alley, and while she sucked him off greedily, had slapped her bared ass repeatedly until it hurt. Then, before the slaughter took place, he had shoved his penis into her cum-filled pussy, even as one of the drunken ronin was pounding her anus at the same time.

Robin's eyes narrowed. A siren went off in her mind as she remembered.

Taken in the ass. Probably because he didn't want to miss out on any of her holes. Laughing. As Robin looked up at him, opening her mouth to accept another burst of cum over her tongue. Then, as she swallowed, she remembered him shouting at her: "Eat it, slut! Show me you know what your mouth is good for."

The man had been part of the authority to make sure the unthinkable never happened; but until it did, he was all too happy to maintain his cover, pretend he did not know the drunken kunoichi and taking every advantage he could.

And she had obeyed him.

Sucked him off.

Fucked him silly.

Let him fuck her until she had debased herself enough to lash out. Then, he had taken her in--as readily as if he was not a willing enabler and participant to her downfall.

The siren was blaring now, as Robin looked over the masked faces before her. She didn't know which one he was (and strictly speaking, he might not even be here--for Robin obviously doesn't remember choking him out with her cum-filled pussy). She just though he looked like all of them--

So, Robin screamed.

They didn't flinch.

The woman dove into their midst, swinging the only weapons she had.

The mop was her spear but she broke it immediately over someone's collarbone. The bucket was her shield and it went over a ninja's head. She threw him into the wall and watched the bucket explode from impact, even as the covered head it concealed bounced sickeningly off the brickwork. In a blur of motion, Robin used the mop to tie up another's arm, halting the thrown fist in mid-motion. She ducked underneath it, snapping the arm over her shoulder. Then, she whirled around and shoved herself up against that same man.

Her breasts pressed against his chest, forming a soft, bouncy cushion. He screamed something from inside his mask before Robin strangled him with the rag.

More ninja.

Now, coming on from all sides.

Robin was kicked, punched, tripped and she fell. She grabbed a leg on the way down and took one of them with her. The disgraced kunoichi rolled until he was on top, covering her and protecting her from the rain of incoming blows. Some got through, but most didn't. Those were the ones that counted.

Still, guild police were no slouch. Somebody aimed a perfectly timed punch through an opening, around the human shield and clipping Robin over an eye. In reply, she grabbed the collar of the man she had already pulled down, and kneed him repeatedly in the groin.

He rolled off, still and spent. He had some pipes on him and screamed for dear life while clutching his crotch. Robin kept moving, meanwhile. She crawled through a forest of stomping legs like a feral ferret, before getting up and reaching the first staircase. A ninja waited for her there. She blocked his blow, threw him over her hip and climbed.

The second hallway was just as crowded as the first, and Robin simply didn't care. The first blow was clean, landing on her ribs with enough force to bend her entire body. Alas, Robin didn't break, either. Not easily. Not for them. She pivoted and kicked, and something crunched under her heel and she kept going.

There was a trick to fighting groups, for the winning formula was not to take on too many at the same time. One was enough. Isolate a single enemy, and focus your attentions on him until he has fallen. When you were done, you moved on to the next.

No matter how many were present.

No matter how many were throwing hands and feet (and maybe weapons) in your direction.

You didn't budge (not for anything less than an immediate threat to your life), and even when you did--blocking, dodging, ducking wild swings in all directions--you made sure you didn't die and go back to working on the first. The only (as far as you were concerned in the moment)--

The one.

This one unfortunate target took Robin all the way to the end of the hallway, for she pushed, and he was her invincible battering ram. They made it together to the staircase and he was long gone by then (unconscious or dead, who cares). Robin discarded her shield. More ninjas appeared on the staircase.

Now, they were getting desperate because they were not used to anyone doing what she was doing. Robin getting as far as she did and the guild--the all-powerful entity which ruled over every secret village and the ninjas they produced--was powerless to stop her. The first man swung, and Robin blocked his arm and leapt over him. She aimed for the wall, her feet tapping rapidly over the right-angle above the staircase.

Robin wall-ran past him, making for the floor above. Her skirt was fully torn now, with her bared, jiggling buttocks visible for all to see. The white, rippling flesh could barely hide the dark, moist pussy lips concealed within, and when she crashed into the third, filled hallway like a voluptuous meteor, her tits have completely fallen out of her top. Big breasts bouncing, droplets of sweat glittering in the air as Robin grabbed the first man she saw.

"Was it you?"

The cry was an accusation, and Robin wasn't even looking for any replies. She reared back, threw her fist into his mask and watched his head bounce backwards like a loose bag.

"Was it you!"

Another punch.

Another bounce.

The whiplash might have broken his neck, but the ninja was still conscious. He put his hands over her slim neck, squeezing for all he was worth.

Robin hit him again.

"Was it YOU?"

He kept trying to choke her; and yet, if anything, Robin's voice grew even louder--shriller! She hit him again.

"Was it--"

And again.

"--YOU?"

An arm appeared from behind, wrapping over her throat. It pulled, and for a second the other ninja--the one unfortunate target--got a momentary reprieve. Robin threw her head backwards, relishing in the crisp snap of her own neck and the cry of pain behind her. The arm slackened, and she punched the first guy again in the face.

"Was it YOU who buried your dick in my ass?"

Another draw-back; another punch.

"Was it you who--"

Robin heard heavy, labored breathing and realized, belated, that it was her own. She focused her eyes, suddenly conscious of flowing blood making her gaze blurry. She punched him again.

"Did you fuck me before you took me in?"

No answer. Someone tripped her and Robin went down. She sprang agilely back to her feet. The ninja who kicked her nearly jumped out of his boots, because he had landed a hefty blow with his entire weight behind it, and it should have broken her in half.

Instead, Robin punched the first guy again.

"Don't look away now! Don't you dare! I sucked your dick. I drank your cum. I let you make me crawl on all fours, chasing your dick with my tongue hanging out. I barked for you. Because you fucking told me to. Then you fucked me because you told me I wasn't good enough for anything else. Now--"

The arms reappeared. More of them now. They pulled her off him and somehow Robin broke loose. She grabbed the man's collar and threw her forehead into the middle of his mask. The other ninjas grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back, but she would not be budged. Robin snapped her head back before throwing it forward again. So long as he was within reach, she kept headbutting her target while he leaned limp and powerless upon the wall.

"Now!"

A hand covered her mouth, and she bit him. He let go and she shouted at the unmoving figure before her.

"Now you got nothing to say? Huh? Now, all of a sudden, you don't want to talk."

Robin fell. The other ninjas piled over her. There was no elegance, no grace or sophistication to what they were doing. Somewhere buried inside the dogpile, Robin caught a look at the end of the hallway. The door to the office was open, and the guildmaster--her GM--stood waiting. A small man, and very old by now, his shoulder sagged wearily, but his spine was still straight. His eyes gleamed with piercing intensity over the messy scene. Through the crowd of bodies pressing in upon her from all sides, he focused on her as Robin was hauled to her feet.

The young woman looked down. Somewhere in the chaos, she had lost one sleeve, and her robe slipped even lower. Her collarbone glistened with sweat that rolled into her heaving cleavage, while her hair whipped through the air like a banner of war.

The human wall parted before her, and nobody even looked at her bared tits, the hard nipples shuddering with every limping step as they hauled her forward unceremoniously. The remains of her top were all but wrapped around her waist, with the crack of her ass jiggling beneath it as they carried her the last ten feet. Robin stumbled, going to a knee. She bared a moist, twitching pussy that was the secret desire of men and women alike.

Nobody cared.

They were still much, much too scared.

All reached the GM together; and he looked like he aged fifty years in the time it took for the ninjas to bring Robin down this one hallway. He didn't say anything for a long time.

Then he sighed.

Deeply.

"Robin..."

What the Fuckwit? #13

(WTFWIT -- What the Fuck was I Thinking Author's Corner)

No fighting.

Oh, wait I meant to say no fucking.

Yeah, that's right cause there was plenty of fighting involved, and most of it even had clothes on.

No wait actually almost ALL of it had clothes on huh I'm real proud of myself here because CAN YOU WRITE CLOTHES LIKE THE WAY I DID SO HOPEFULLY YOU GOT A FULL FAP OUT OF IT EVEN THOUGH THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO SEX HERE AND ALL THE WARDROBE MOSTLY STAYED ON THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE FIGHT/CHAPTER?

I coin the term officially, 'Sexy Fighting' and no you can't use it anymore because I called dibs. Both words.

Sexy.

And 'fighting'.

Now any time anybody uses those words anywhere they owe me a quarter but like I'm not greedy so it can be a Canadian quarter I won't judge.

Hopefully this shows off my writing skills enough that YES there is a plot to this thing and its going somewhere and YES not every chapter is going to be fucking but also YES you can still fap to it I won't judge.What the Fuckwit? #13