Phoenyx: Flesh & Fire

by Morgana Blackrose

  “The slut may now submit one request to her Mistress for consideration.”

  She pulled her eyes back around to meet mine.

  “I want to see her bound, by ankles and wrists, to your bed.”

  Johnny peered at me from underneath her hair. “Is the Mistress happy with that request?”

  I pondered. “It depends what the slut plans to do with me.”

  Johnny tugged her hair again. “Explain.”

  “You do with me whatever you will, to arouse Mistress while she watches. And then we both satisfy her fully together, while she lies bound.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. I stood up to face Honey and stripped everything off. I had forgotten about Johnny’s surgical dressings until I felt them peel off against my top.

  “Let me check on the ink first,” he said, and moved behind me. He pulled away the rest of the tape and the pads. “We can’t risk damage to the skin or to the design,” he said. “However, my sheets are pure silk, and will not harm either if you lie still on them.”

  “You can pleasure me while I’m bound then,” I said. “If you tie me tight, I won’t be able to move much. And anyway, I think that’ll be more interesting, too. I’d like to see what you come up with.”

  “Good thought. Come, then.”

  He picked up Honey’s leash and led her through the partition into the little bedroom. The double bed filled most of the room, and was covered in pale pink silk. Johnny flicked a switch on a shelf above and a green light came on. Then the sound of distant, thunderous drum music (played in what I later learned was called Kumi-daiko style) filled the room. He spent a few minutes standing quite still, breathing gently and unfolded his hands and arms as if in private meditation. Then he took me by the shoulders and walked me to the bed where he laid me down and bound me, by wrist and ankle just as Honey had requested, to the four short bedposts. Spread wide and helpless, I could only lie and watch as Johnny turned to Honey and whipped out more of his white rope, again seemingly from nowhere. He went through an elaborate sequence of knotting her upper arms, bent her forearms behind her back and lashed them together with long, elegant movements.

  “Ushiro Takatekote form,” he announced.

  Further ropes were added to bind her lower thighs and ankles, and while it was all quite fascinating from a learning and aesthetic point of view, the whole performance did nothing for me sexually. I was sure that Johnny found it extremely fulfilling, spiritual and enlightening, and Honey likewise, but I still preferred direct simplicity in my erotic encounters. Although seeing two beautiful naked bodies such as theirs interacting in any way was enough to keep my pussy warm and damp.

  Then he turned her to face me and forced her to her knees. Her swollen cock still thrust out, erect and now dark red in color, and Johnny squatted behind her to take that organ in his hands and caress it slowly, lightly, as though petting a kitten. And bound as she was, she could move no part of her body apart from her head, and was therefore completely helpless in his hands.

  Now that idea I found just a little bit interesting. He looked over at me as I began to slither my ass from side to side on the silk, little circular movements to get my fluids flowing again.

  “The slut loves to be helpless in a pair of strong hands,” he told me, and Honey nodded in reply, still not daring to speak after her divine lord’s decree of earlier. “Knowing that no matter what may be done to her, she is powerless against him or his will.”

  He reached aside to beneath the bed and drew up a length of silk, which he folded meticulously across his arm and drew over her mouth, gagging her tight. Her wild, widened eyes gleamed white in the low light and I could tell that she hadn’t reckoned with this. What was all that about a safe word earlier? Still, they were adult people and clearly knew each other’s limits. This was probably as much for my entertainment and education as for theirs, although I did wonder where it would all end up, and how far it would go.

  “Now the slut is mere flesh in the hands which hold her destiny,” Johnny continued with his narration. “And may be sculpted – toyed with – or modified as her Master sees fit. Or may be teased, pleasured, or tormented.”

  He went across to the other wall and did something on top of a dark lacquered wood cabinet. Then a hiss of steel and something bright blasted a line of light across my eyes. He knelt alongside Honey and drew up into the lamplight what I realized with a gasp of terror was a curved knife, with an edge that looked like it could slice anything into sushi with no effort.

  Honey saw it too as it danced in his hand in front of her, and she whimpered through her gag. The reflection threw darts of silver across her face, and her eyes remained wide and staring, with either fear or disbelief.

  I stopped squirming against the sheets and tugged at the bonds which held my wrists in an effort to wriggle myself free. But no, I was held fast, secured by an expert. I didn’t like where this was going. But she had also said he could do what he wanted – within sane limits, surely? I had a hard time rationalizing the situation with what was unfolding in front of me.

  The blade moved from hand to hand, its back edge carving long white trails in her skin. On each breast, he left behind what looked like Kanji characters, which faded after ten seconds or so. Fleeting, transient messages to no-one but himself, or the gods, since I couldn’t read them and Honey was too busy shivering and staining her cheeks with tears.

  He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her head over to the side. The flat of the knife rested across her throat, and I had an overwhelming flashback to the moment, years ago now, when I was grabbed and threatened on my way to the Kitty Klub for my opening night. I felt my heartbeat thumping through me like an express train, pulse kicking me in the side of the head and in the gut as Honey’s whimpering grew louder. She was trying to chew through the gag, but to no effect.

  What the hell was that safe word? I was hopeless at remembering Japanese. I didn’t want to blurt it out prematurely, but if I could only remember it...

  But no, my mind was a total blank.

  I wanted to shut my eyes but I was too afraid to. My imagination would do terrible things to me, but I couldn’t watch this any longer either. This wasn’t sexy or fun, but torture for both of us. Unless, of course, that was really – secretly – his motivation, a possibility that I couldn’t even bear to consider.

  The blade traced a course from one side of her throat to the other. Then from between her collar bones, vertically down past her breasts, over her belly, and then around her roped-up genitals. She was still twitching at her fullest erection so she was still turned-on, which was a relief – but I didn’t know if that was as much to do with the rope as anything else. He twirled the blade in one hand and wound her hair like lengths of hemp around the other, drawing her body backwards over his shoulder and opening up her front to further exploration with the knife. The curved edge made no contact with her, only the back and the flat, but the movements reminded me too much of a standard tease, as though he was building up tension which would have to be released in some terrible and apocalyptic fashion.

  He poked the tip into her nipple ring and levered it upwards, lifting her tit up along with it. And as the light bathed her flesh in its glow, I found myself wondering if the scars underneath her breasts were from enhancement surgery, or previous encounters with Mr. Iko. I now feared for exactly what I’d gotten myself into.

  Finally, Johnny put the knife aside – although not out of sight or reach, and placed a hand on her cock with gentle, exploratory contact. He carefully peeled the skin back and exposed her glistening tip, and patted his fingers over it with the lightest, merest touches which made her body quiver and bend backwards even further, as far as it was allowed to. He drew up another silken strip and floated it over her shaft. Her eyes fluttered shut and I heard her familiar groans of gathering pleasure, amplified by the acoustics of the small room and punctuated by the throbbing percussive soundtrack, which appeared to be working its way up to a climax. He
knotted a bow around her prick and drew it up towards her body, manipulating it as though it were some kind of puppet. He was jerking her slowly and gracefully, making her tremble with every stroke. This seemed to go on for ages until he worked his way closer in behind her, and the forward thrust of her pelvis and the grunts from her throat suggested that he’d just penetrated her again from behind. He slapped her cock back against her body with a hard smack and then she ejaculated in a glorious, graceful fountain of relief which threw a shuddering erotic sigh from her mouth. She shook against him, groaning and growling through the wet dripping gag and I felt her sperm spatter over my belly and thighs, a few drops even making it as far as my breasts and face.

  And in a single movement he whipped up the knife and severed the ribbon, dropping her cock back down and shaking another spurt out of her. Only then did the knife disappear from sight and he returned his fingers to her genitals, rubbing and squeezing them with enthusiasm.

  When Honey had finished shivering and sighing with her delight, Johnny threw a wink at me and set about untying her. As she crouched in front of him, head bowed and hair shaking with relief, or excitement, Johnny massaged her arms and legs to banish the pale stripes he had lashed into her.

  “Oh my fucking God,” she growled when he had finished. “You. Fucking. Cunt.”

  “That’s no way to speak to your Master, slut.”

  “Fucking hell, man,” she gasped. “You...” she wiped the drips of drool from her chin. “Don’t ever do that again with me in front of a fucking novice.”

  She threw her hair back and stared at me with genuine concern. My panic had faded but I felt chilled by the very real fears which had flowed through me only ten minutes before, and I still lay bathed in my sweat.

  “Did you see the look on her face?” Honey scolded. “She thought you were going to – uh, shit—” she wiped her mouth and shivered some more.

  “I pierce, stab, puncture and disfigure people for a living. Is it not likely that my pastimes would be rather...edgy?” He leaned in to put a hand to my forehead. “Relax. It’s all theatre. Did you think anything would happen?”

  “I don’t know,” I gulped. “I’m new to all this.”

  “I bound her tight enough to ensure she wouldn’t make any panicky moves and injure herself. I was in total control at all times.”

  Honey curled herself up between my legs and pulled Johnny down beside her. “That’s fine for you to say. And I do like my edge play. But a few ground rules would have prevented the girl from shitting herself, man. It’s her I was concerned about.”

  “I’m okay,” I said, feeling like a complete goof now. And yet also somehow educated, even liberated, having been witness to, and endured something which most ordinary people would never experience or even contemplate. It had to be something in the Eastern psyche which could associate sexual desire with violence to this extent, and that which I saw demonstrated earlier in the club which, by the time we left, had come to resemble choreographed rape more than dance or theatre. I wasn’t sure yet if that was something I would ever want to explore myself in any way, having once been so nearly on the receiving end of such aggression and fear for real; yet I could also see its potential as a channel for darker and negative emotions and thoughts, if the environment was safe and controlled for the participants.

  Honey hung an arm around Johnny’s neck and ruffled his hair into spiky tufts. “And in other news, Johnny-San, that was fucking amazing. You may just be a god. Albeit a rather sick and twisted demon-god.”

  “My father was chojin,” he smirked, and wrapped his arms around her in a deep, loving caress. They looked so good together, I felt almost like the spare wheel Honey had mentioned earlier. And it did make me wonder if my simple desires and naïve ways would ever be sufficient to hold her interest for very long. There was no way I could ever take her to the kind of dark places she was obviously used to visiting with Mr. Iko, even if she begged me – at least, not at this stage, and not without a good deal of thought about what I might be getting myself into, and how deep I wanted to play in those still, sinister waters. I was now growing to realize that I wouldn’t make a very good dominatrix, and found playing the obedient, submissive role much easier and more fitting to my personality which meant that Mrs. Groenenberg would be guaranteed a willing slave for some time to come.

  “Now, I believe the next phase of our operation was to satisfy our lovely firebird here,” he went on.

  Honey looked up at me expectantly. “Once I’ve had a drink,” she rasped. “I was sweating bullets back there.”

  “Let me bring wine. In the meantime, your Mistress may wish you to pay her a little attention.”

  He left the room as she wriggled in on top of me and cradled my head in her arm, pulling my face close to hers.

  “I must apologies on behalf of the sadistic bastard,” she whispered, but I shushed her into silence.

  “Stop worrying. It’s okay. I guess I’m on a steep learning curve here.”

  “We’ve gone a lot further in the past, him and me. Couple of times he got me into blood-letting. That’s what I was scared of – that he’d do it in front of you and completely freak you the fuck out.”

  “Hm, you’re right. Although I would probably have just fainted. And I still can’t remember that stupid safe word he gave you.”

  Her face broke in a grin as she lay alongside me. “It was the Japanese word for ‘menstruation’. Now, that’s something that freaks me out.”

  “That’s a shame,” I sighed. “I’m just about due any day now.”

  She ran a hand over my nipples and down to my vagina, where it lingered, smearing my sexual secretions into my thighs. “Well, if you’re going to be out of action soon, then we’d better make the most of this then. Hadn’t we?”

  She nuzzled her face against my neck and I became aware of my heart rate slowing down, the way it always used to when I petted Sacha or Siegfried, my mother’s old German Shepherds.

  “Can you untie my hands?” I whispered, “I want to touch you so much.”

  “I don’t know. I’d rather not get the super-heavenly-divine-demon-Master’s pants in a twist. You’ve already seen what he can do when he’s just playing around.”

  “Have you ever gotten Johnny angry?” I asked, feeling a little concerned again.

  “No, actually. I think it goes against his personal philosophy. He’s very focused on channeling energy and all that kind of stuff.”

  “I want to feel you,” I sighed.

  Just then Johnny returned with wine and knelt beside us.

  “Have you pleased her then?” he asked Honey as he passed her a cup.

  “She asks to be released.”

  “Then release her. You are hers to command, after all.”

  She took a sip of wine and bowed to him. Then untied first one hand, then the other. I sat up and rubbed some feeling back into my wrists, which I was alarmed to see bore thick red indentations – I must have strained against them during Johnny’s nasty little performance harder than I had realized.

  Johnny placed a little cup in my hand and I sniffed it. Tasted it, and was surprised at how different it tasted to the usual Western expectation of what wine was.

  “Are you okay now?” he asked me. I nodded. “Well, then. What would you like us to do now?”

  “Teach me,” I said. That made his eyes widen with surprise.

  “Teach you? I’m not a teacher. I am merely a student, a penetrator of skins, a wielder of inks and brushes.”

  “I’ve warned you about all that humility shit of yours,” Honey said. “I know how big your ego is, so just let it all out.”

  “I fear it may be too big for you to take,” he grinned.

  “Then share it among us. And we’ll all take a bit each.”

  “A true Master does not abuse his position, for it is one of trust. A position not easily gained, but quickly lost.”

  Honey lay back down beside me with a tired groan. “He also writes f
ortune cookies in his spare time,” she sighed.

  That made Johnny laugh out loud. He leant across me and kissed her full on the mouth.

  “And that’s why I always loved you so much,” he told her. “You know just how to bring me back down to earth when I have strayed too far towards the heavens.”

  “I’m serious,” I said, “I want to learn something. You must have so much to offer.”

  “Knowledge in itself is of no value – it is its application which makes it worth knowing.”

  “And when he isn’t writing fortune cookies, he likes to paint spiral staircases,” she hissed in my ear. “Man’s more twisted than two corkscrews welded end to end.”

  Then I laughed out loud, and turned back to Johnny. I ran my fingers through Honey’s hair and down her back.

  “Maybe I just want to learn something for the sake of learning,” I said. “You know, for fun?”

  Johnny looked ready to spill another philosophical platitude when Honey stopped his intentions with a finger to his lips.

  “How about some Kanji characters? Like, her name, for example.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, “go on.”

  He stood up and turned off the drum music, the need for the atmospheric soundtrack now over. He went back to that cupboard again, the one where he kept the knife, and rattled around for a minute. Then he returned with a couple of brushes and pots of ink.

  “First of all: we would say your name as fushichou or as fenikkusu. If I were to write it, I would do this:” He dipped a brush into the red paint pot and wrote three characters 不死鳥 across my breasts.

  I looked down, impressed at the ease with which he traced the paint over me to render complex symbols of beauty.

  “I think that will have to be my next tattoo,” I said. “Underneath the bird on my back. Could you do that?”

  “I could. But so much at once? Let your skin become accustomed to what you have first.”

  “I think I want that as my first tattoo, too,” Honey added, and fixed me with a deep, longing look. I felt embarrassed again at such devotion and commitment. I could see that she was going to leave me no easy way out of the permanent relationship that she still seemed determined to pursue. Was I really worthy of her, I asked myself? Was it possible for two such different individuals to truly enjoy such an arrangement?