Chapter 7: Punishment

Spring was determined to win, so she immediately picked her best character—Long.

A man who embodied the art of “chip damage” to perfection.

“Fight!”

The shout echoed through the room as Spring and Mirei Kiyori squared off, both utterly focused.

Five minutes later.

Staring at the two bold letters “KO” on the screen, Mirei Kiyori was stunned for a moment, and then her entire face flushed red with visible frustration.

She hadn’t expected to lose at a video game to this chubby guy!

“Well? Admit defeat?” Spring flexed her wrist, eyeing her opponent with amused interest.

“You jerk!” Mirei fumed. Just a momentary lapse had cost her a match that was neck and neck—Spring’s Long had seized the chance and finished her with a neat combo.

The thought that she’d soon have to endure another spanking sent a new wave of anger through her. She raised the controller, threatening to hurl it across the room.

“Hey, hey! If you break it, there’ll be nothing left to play!” Spring quickly grabbed her delicate wrist.

At this, Mirei halted, her frustration bottled up with nowhere to go. Gritting her teeth, she bared her small, pearly teeth and sank them into Spring’s arm.

“Ow!” The pain made Spring blurt out a curse.

He tried to fend her off with his left hand, pulling his right arm away, but the Japanese girl refused to let go, even raising her eyebrows at him in defiance.

“You asked for this!” Haru Arano, now exasperated, reached for the pristine bathrobe wrapped around Mirei, as if he might undo it any second.

The move startled Mirei so much that she immediately let go, clutching the edge of her towel and retreating, eyes blazing with fury.

“You pervert! You total pervert!”

Spring bared her teeth in embarrassment. His plump forearm was covered in saliva, marked by six distinct tooth imprints, with a faint trace of fragrance lingering in the air.

“You have the nerve to call me names? A bet’s a bet—I’m taking my winnings back!”

Spring moved forward and seized the Japanese girl’s arm in one swift motion.

“Ouch!” Mirei felt herself being lifted and then dropped belly-down across Spring’s broad thigh, like a turtle flipped onto its shell—familiar position, familiar scenario.

She wanted to struggle, but with nothing but a small towel covering her and a figure that outpaced her peers, any big movement threatened to dislodge her only garment.

The towel was so short that lying like this left her feeling exposed, as if all her secrets were on display. A flush of shame overwhelmed her, making her momentarily forget to resist.

Spring, seeing Mirei obediently draped across his lap, couldn’t help but marvel. Was it possible this Japanese girl had a special preference for this?

His eyes lingered on her round, full hips. He swallowed hard and raised his hand.

A crisp smack echoed in the air.

With the sound, Mirei’s body trembled, as though a cold wind had slipped through an open window and swept across her bare skin.

But Spring wasn’t satisfied. The towel’s rough texture dulled the sensation; it was far less pleasant than when she wore a skirt.

He found himself wanting to peel it away, to see what lay beneath.

Driven by this thought, he carefully tugged the towel a little higher and delivered another smack.

Again, he edged the towel up after each spank. By the ninth, the lower half of her Crayon Shin-chan underwear was clearly visible.

Just as he was about to reveal the rest, Mirei, who had been motionless, suddenly reached back and pressed her small hand firmly against his, stopping his mischief.

If he moved upward, her hand was unyielding; downward or away, her hand softened, gently caressing and tickling his.

Back and forth they went, but Mirei held her ground.

Spring grinned, feigning retreat. As soon as Mirei relaxed, he swooped in with a feint—only to have her slap his hand away and turn her delicate face toward him, eyes brimming with quiet reproach.

“No more lifting. This is fine as it is,” she muttered.

Caught in the act, Spring scratched his head in embarrassment.

[An event has occurred.]

[The girl who lost the game accepts her punishment, but insists it be over the towel? What’s the point of such a punishment? Thus, you decide:]

[A. Ignore her protests, rip off the towel and face whatever consequences may come. It’s worth it for a glimpse of what’s inside. (If only the heavens would give me another chance, I’d choose this again.)]

[B. Sensing her resistance, abandon your lascivious thoughts, end the punishment early, and apologize with a bow. (Even a dog would shake its head at that.)]

[C. Not wanting to let her off too easily, you quickly finish the last smack and let her go, confident you’ll keep winning in the future.]

Who would have thought a simple spanking could trigger an event? The reward, though, remained a mystery.

As Spring hesitated, he noticed Mirei’s half-exposed skin, now marked with faint red streaks. The sight stirred a pang of guilt. On impulse, he pressed his rough, large palm gently against her, feeling the warmth of her soft skin and the fabric of her Crayon Shin-chan underwear beneath.

Feeling his touch, Mirei blushed furiously, still lying across his lap. The reproach in her eyes was gone, replaced by a mix of shame, anger, and confusion.

“Just hurry up and finish the last one! Then we’re done, you pervert!” she shouted, trying to mask her embarrassment with volume.

To her, Haru Arano was now a certified degenerate—someone with a peculiar obsession for spanking.

Despicable, infuriating man!

“Does it hurt?” Spring ignored her outburst, his tone gentle.

His rough hand caressed her as if she were a rare, uncut gem.

“Yes,” Mirei bit her lip, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears.