How to Discipline Your Vampire
Page 11
Fuck.
Tears threatened to invade my eyes, so I blinked a few times and went to my happy place—Nordstrom’s denim section. The assault retreated. “We’ll see,” was all I could manage.
Erin decided that now would be the perfect time to change the subject. “Oh, and Brent was wondering if you wanted to do a scene with us at a play party,” she said smoothly. I was about to have another case of spontaneous jaw-dropping syndrome. “The theme is Three’s Company, so instead of dressing like we’re from the seventies, we thought we’d add someone else to the fun.”
“Yeah, I’m going to have to decline that invitation,” I said, rolling my eyes at her audacity.
She shrugged. “It might be good for you,” she said, and threw out the remainder of her scone and tea. I sipped the dregs and got up quickly.
I had to get home to that journal, whether or not I’d read it. I just slept with it under my pillow.
The journal sat in my lap, unopened. I was happy with my decision, and firm in my resolve. I would not read it. If William asked, I would explain my reasoning.
It was Monday morning, and I was thrilled I’d be doing a scene with him later on that day. The few but fabulous memories I had of our last couple of encounters were playing on a constant loop in my brain. The feather, the piano, the forehead kiss. Bizzy was begging for me to strap a discreet butterfly on her for the school day, but I got too nervous. I mean, what if the class fell silent and heard a faint buzzing from the front of the room? I could always blame it on my cell phone, I guess.
Then again, I didn’t keep my cell phone on my crotch. On second thought, better not. Instead, I just kept checking for texts and scrolling through pictures I had taken of him.
“Talking to your boyfriend?” one of the students asked accusingly. Bobby, I think his name was.
“Excuse me?” I asked, eyebrows vaulting toward my hairline.
A few of the boys laughed. “You’re turning red and smirking and biting your lip.”
I slid my phone back in my pocket discreetly. “I read a funny headline,” I bluffed.
“One that made you blush?” a little nugget of a freshman chimed in.
“How about this,” I answered, “if you guys stop asking about my personal life and finish your homework in the next ten minutes, we can play Pictionary on the board? Maybe listen to some tunes?”
They applauded—especially my punk kids—while I checked repeatedly for William’s lunchtime e-mail.
When I got it, I could say I was more than pleased. He was going to do well with today’s scene—geisha and servant.
From: William Gentry
Subject: Confession
Date: May 9, 2012
To: Cerise Norrel
Dearest Cherry Blossom,
I humble myself before you now, and beg for your forgiveness in advance.
I know I am but a lowly servant, and should never have done something to offend any geisha, let alone the most celebrated one in all Kyoto.
I have become fixated on you to the point of obsession. When I was cleaning your chamber last night, I stole a drop of your perfume. I put it on a handkerchief so that I may inhale your intoxicating scent while you are gone.
It was wrong of me, and I await my penance. I will serve you your tea today, as usual, and you may punish me as you see fit.
Please forgive this unworthy yet enamored heart.
Sincerely,
William
I let out a long sigh. Thank goodness class had just left. This man was going to be my undoing, and I was going to love every minute of it.
Erin’s chastisement yesterday was a faint memory as I ran my hands over the sumptuous fabric of the black and purple kimono hanging in my bathroom. Unreal, I thought to myself while I unraveled each complex piece of the ensemble. I had done my homework on kimono-wearing during my free period earlier that day. There was the obi, the mae-ita, and the obijime, all finally wrapped around my waist. My outfit was now complete. Instead of putting my hair in a geisha-style bun, I decided to flat-iron it so it fell in long sheets around my face. I used my “winter complexion” pressed powder, clipped in a few black extensions, and put on some matte red lipstick to complete the look.
Look out, Kyoto.
I smoothed my clothing and walked as steadily as I could in the high platform sandals William provided. He had put on quite a show the past few scenes, so I knew I would have to hide my shock at whatever he had done this time.
But no amount of preparation could have possibly kept the shock and awe from my expression when I walked into my bedroom.
William had placed lacquered bamboo parquet on top of my hardwoods, giving the room a much brighter feel. There were also about five or six tatami mats in various points in the room. The furniture was gone, as expected, and all that occupied the space was a simple tea set on the floor, and arrangements of fresh cherry boughs and blossoms in every corner. I was breathless at the sight and the smell. It was like a movie set.
But he wasn’t there. I supposed he was planning on serving me, so I arranged my robe carefully as I sat on the tatami mat closest to the tea setup. I took a moment to inhale and exhale slowly, centering myself for what was to come.
Geishas had to be graceful, calm, and subtle while maintaining their aura as the center of attention. William had a tough audience today.
Before I could hear his approach, William stood in front of me, and then bent into a low bow. As he stood, he kept his head and eyes downcast as he poured hot water into the green tea leaves that were in the pot by my feet. I gave his calves a whack with my fan.
“How dare you take from me,” I chastised.
“Cherry Blossom,” he said quietly. “I hope you received my apologetic appeal. Would you allow me to serve you tea today? I understand if you choose to send me away.”
I looked him up and down in approval. He was wearing simple black drawstring pants and a loose black robe. I could see his chest exposed in a long, low V. I was very pleased. “You may serve me tea,” I said simply, and he made me a cup of green tea.
He kneeled by my side, wordlessly, while I sipped in contemplation. “Have you decided my fate, Cherry-san?” he asked after I had placed my cup on the floor.
“I believe I have, servant. You took from me, so today I will take from you.” I gave him another sharp whack with my fan.
His gaze burned, and I had to look away. Focus, focus, I told myself.
“I’d like to look at you. I want to see if you are fit to stay in my home as a piece of artwork for my collection,” I said, standing gracefully. I circled him, examining him closely.
“Take off all your clothes, fold them in the corner, and stand by the window,” I said.
He followed my orders promptly, moving quickly to the designated spot. He opened his black tunic just slowly enough—he wanted to follow my orders, but he also knew he was responsible for putting on a bit of a show. The sunlight poured through the window and spilled onto his muscular chest. Far away from Cherry Blossom’s mind, Cerise noted how William was impervious to the sunlight. Some vampire.
Cherry took control again. “All of it,” I goaded.
He peeled off his pants in one sweep, revealing his naked form. I walked up to him and appraised his body. I opened the fan and used the soft folds to stroke the skin of his back. “Your geisha has decided you are worthy of being kept, if you please her.”
“Anything,” he said.
“Lie down.” I pointed to a spot on the ground near him. I had a few discreet hooks put into the wall and floor, so I knew exactly where I wanted him.
I sauntered over to my toy box, and grabbed a few skeins of Japanese love rope. William wasn’t going anywhere. I watched his naked backside as he bent down over the designated spot. I loved watching his muscles move—he had the grace of a jungle cat.
He nodded. “Of course, Cherry Blossom,” he said, holding back the smile that was threatening to form. He was thrilled about being punished. I wasn’t surprised.
“You also won’t be allowed to watch me while I’m taking my satisfaction from you,” I explained, and bound his eyes carefully with a silky black scarf. “I do, however, want you to talk to me, so I will not bind your mouth.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, rapt and naked on the ground.
I circled the ropes around his wrists first, knotting and cinching as I went. I tied some intricately, since I was, after all, a master of fine arts and aesthetics. I used red ropes on his torso, forming a knotty cage around his chest and stomach. The longest stretch of rope I saved for his legs, and bound them together from the ankles to the knees. Once he was fully immobile and prone, I lashed his wrists and ankles to the bolts in the floor and my masterpiece was complete, cocooned in rope.
He was aroused and ready for me, and I couldn’t wait to feel him inside. The thought of just his cock touching me, with the rest of his body lashed to the floor, nearly sent me over the edge as I almost lowered myself down on him.
But I wanted to take my time. I hadn’t spent enough effort on enjoying William’s body. I wanted to savor this man’s fine-ass form.
I kneeled on the tatami mat next to him and ogled to my heart’s delight. He couldn’t see me, so I felt comfortable taking in the view at my leisure. He could wait—he should wait. I’ve seen some fine specimens in my time, but William’s body was absolutely flawless. I ran my hand down his arm and we both shuddered at the electricity between us. I swirled my finger in the crook of his elbow—even parts of him that weren’t sexy were sexy. So I decided to lick the places on him that startled me with their unexpected sensuality.
Starting with his wrists—the part peeking through the rope. Normally, wrists aren’t good for anything aside from watches or shackles, but William’s were pieces of art. His muscles and tendons were taut beneath his smooth, cool skin. I ran my fingers over this beautiful body part, and moved on quickly when my subconscious told me I should feel a pulse beneath that satiny skin. What do I know? I asked myself, I’m a geisha, not a doctor. Ignore it.
I moved on to his calves. Now, once in a while, watching sports, I may or may not notice a man’s calves, but William’s legs were absolutely gorgeous. They were long and lanky, with just enough curve to them. His muscles were well defined without being muscle-bound. He was Nature’s perfection; he was Adam and he was the apple. He was pure temptation.
“I want you to talk to me, William. Tell me about your first fantasy about me,” I said, parting my kimono and preparing to ride him.
“As you wish, sweet Cherry,” he said, voice thick with desire. I smiled at how bad he wanted it. I bit my lip, awaiting his story.
“In my mind, you were wearing a black kimono, as dark as night,” he said, managing to keep his composure as I lowered myself down, down, down, until he was completely inside me. I swirled my hips, adjusting to his hard body.
I started to rock back and forth as he spoke. “I wanted you so badly, it felt wrong. A lowly man such as myself could never have you. The kimono was so sheer, I could almost make out your delicate figure beneath. I wanted to run my fingers over every single curve of your body,” he confessed.
I quickened my pace, desire building fast. Almost too fast. His voice was absolutely hypnotic. “Why didn’t you? It’s your fantasy, servant.” Tell me more, you gorgeous fiend. I gripped the rope at his hips and swirled my hips slowly. He panted.
“I didn’t deserve you, even in my fantasy. All I could bring myself to do at first was to kiss your feet.”
My body was on fire as I writhed in passion on top of him. He was so motionless beneath me, doing exactly as I asked, just being there for me to use.
He was such a good boy; perhaps he could have a reward later.
“Tell me more.”
He drew a ragged breath. “Then I licked your calf all the way to your knee, up and down, and you asked me to move farther up your legs.”
“Fuck, that’s hot,” escaped from my mouth. “What else, William? Please, more,” I moaned, nearly thrashing on top of his prone form.
“Yes, geisha,” he said with a labored breath. “In my dream, you opened your robe just enough to allow my eyes to see a thin strip of flesh down the middle of the kimono. You . . . you allowed me a peek at your gorgeous body. You opened the robe a fraction more, showing me an inch of skin that went . . . all the way down.”
I was very, very close. He was completely consuming me from inside, and I could barely take any more pressure. “Did you like what you saw?” I cooed, running my hands over my body, undoing my robe and touching myself since he couldn’t.
“It was nothing compared to seeing your body in the flesh,” he explained, slowly, “but yes.”
I knew he was keeping something from me. “Servant, what did you do to me in your fantasy?” I managed to say.
He groaned, and I sped up. “Something I’m not worthy of, Cherry Blossom,” he said, nearly whimpering.
“What did you want to do to me?” I begged, on the verge of orgasm.
He trembled beneath me, seemingly ready to come, but holding back like I had asked. “I tasted you,” he growled.
Those words sent me over the edge, imagining William with his face between my legs. I ground myself onto him as fiercely as I could, coming violently and biting down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. My body shook from the William-induced earthquake. “Too—fucking—good,” I whined.
My hands scooted the kimono back on my body as I came down from the high. After a moment, I regained my composure, dismounted quickly, and began the task of removing William’s ropes.
He smiled placidly as I untied his wrists. He made a motion to wrap up the discarded rope, but I signaled that I would do it. He laced his hands behind his head and hummed softly, satisfied without satisfaction. He was still very erect, but from his face, I could tell he was still sated just from the experience alone.
“You deserve something for your obedience today, enduring your punishment,” I said to him, red-faced and breathing raggedly. I caressed his jaw and put the coils of ropes to the side.
“Thank you,” he said, without even knowing what he was getting.
I took his long, cold pointer finger and slid it inside me.
“You may have your taste when you get home.”
His gaze challenged me, and I knew there was a part of him that wanted to slide his finger into his mouth right there, and have me watch, but I knew the submissive inside him won. It always did.
Punctual perfectionist to a fault, William stood up immediately after he was freed. I, however, was still panting minutes later, even after I had put away some of the props. “Mistress, I have fresh sushi and sake punch set up in the dining room for you. I’d like to put your furniture back while you eat, if that’s all right. If you’d like something more comfortable to slip into, may I suggest Harvey’s gift of the day?” he asked with a smile.
He opened a small tissue-wrapped garment and held it up for me.
It was a silk bathrobe in the same pattern as the kimono.
I smiled and thanked him, and stepped out into the dining room to have dinner while he cleaned up.
The sushi was impeccable—a nice variety of standard favorites like Negimaki and spicy tuna, along with some creative options with nontraditional fillings and fruit. I inspected the rolls carefully; they were tight and the cuts were clean, as though he had been doing this for years. Is there anything William can’t do? I wondered to myself as I took a bite. Again, perfection. This man understood pleasure on so many le
vels. He was even thoughtful when making sushi. The pairing of avocado with mango and cucumber matched silky consistencies with contrasting tastes. Sweet and salty, smooth and crunchy. He really thought of everything.
I took a long drink and sighed with satisfaction. The sake punch was refreshingly tart, with just enough spike to loosen my muscles. It was all too good. That seems to be the pattern with him—and I wasn’t complaining.
I heard a small and fast scuffling, and not a minute after I had begun to eat, William was by my side asking how the sushi tasted.
I looked at him, puzzled. “Delicious so far, thanks, but shouldn’t you be getting back to putting my furniture back?” I nagged good-naturedly. I was great at nagging—I’d make a great housewife, aside from the whole wife part.
William’s smile froze on his face. “I’m done, obviously,” he said, slightly puzzled.
“How could you possibly have moved an entire room of furniture in the time I’ve eaten one bite?”
He sighed, frustrated. “You didn’t read it,” he said sorrowfully.
“Read what?”
“If you had read my journal, you wouldn’t have to ask about the furniture.”
I took a long drink of punch and weighed my words. “Please sit, William,” I said. He complied, of course.
“I didn’t read it, but not out of disrespect or disinterest,” I said, taking a long breath before my next statement. “I accept you for whoever you are.”
He stood up, almost angrily. “What do you mean?” I hadn’t expected that reaction.
I gestured for him to sit again, and he did . . . albeit reluctantly.
“William, I like what we have, and where it’s going. It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done. I don’t need to read any more about you. I just want to find it out for myself. No journal necessary.” Truthfully, it was hard for me to say that. I was essentially putting my heart on my sleeve, and I wanted to keep it in my robe. But he had an effect on me that I couldn’t deny.