by Gia Dawn
She didn’t move a muscle when he retrieved a length of dark-purple rope, clenching her jaw to keep from asking another stupid question. Observe, he had told her. Watch and experience the stillness. Okay. She would do just exactly as he suggested and see which one of them was right.
But it was hard to hold still when he was leaning over her, his chest rubbing against hers as he manipulated the rope around her breasts. And it was even harder not to make a sound when he flicked a nipple beneath his thumb, keeping her aroused and on edge as he placed her hands behind her back and tied them close together.
Now her chest jutted out and her breasts were plumped to twice their normal size. It was better than a push-up bra, she decided in delight as she saw the result in the mirror overhead. The color of the rope blended perfectly with the strands of purple in her hair, which he spread out across her shoulders and smoothed around her neck like a scarf.
He could have been a fashion designer, she thought in admiration, beginning to understand his fascination with kinbaku. For him it was about the art, the craft, the creation. The ability to take something as ordinary as a woman and a rope and meld them into something of far greater beauty than the sum of their separate parts.
And she began to understand why a woman might crave to be sculpted by an artist’s hands, seeing a beauty in herself she’d never before envisioned.
Her musings were cut short when he sat back to survey his work, reaching out to take both nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers until they swelled and turned nearly the same rosy tint as the cherry blossoms in her mask.
Sakura writhed against her bonds, unable to move, even when he bent his head to take one ultra-sensitive peak into his mouth. He sucked eagerly, scraping his teeth across its tip, uncaring that Sakura writhed and wiggled and gasped beneath him.
“D-don’t stop,” she begged when at last he pulled his mouth away. Her plea ended with a moan when he switched his attention to her other breast, giving it the same rough treatment.
“Perfect,” he said when at last he pulled away. “Like two juicy plums ready to be plucked.”
Before she could form a reply, he had already set his sights on new lands to conquer. Taking hold of the rope once more, he wound it around her waist, between her legs and even into the crack between her butt cheeks before twisting it in a figure eight fashion around her hips. Every successive tug and shift of the rope tortured her clit into a frenzy of arousal while it worked its way deeper into the folds of her sex and slithered across the tiny opening of her ass.
The smell of her arousal rose to hang heavy in the room, but Sakura was too far gone to be embarrassed by the musky scent, especially when she caught sight of his erection, his cock a swollen mass of flesh jutting up once more against his stomach.
“Take me,” she begged, her voice unsteady. “P-please, Bakushi, I need to feel you.”
“Hush, keisei,” he told her, placing his hand over her mouth. “Don’t lose your concentration by speaking. I will give you all you desire.”
He reached beneath a pillow and retrieved a box she had not noticed before. She watched in an agony of desperation as he opened the lid and placed the objects on the bed. If she thought she’d been even remotely excited before, she was sadly mistaken as she studied the array of polished glass toys. They ranged in length and circumference. One was long and slender, another short and wide. One was swirled all the way to the tip, another was etched and knobbed all around. But all of them were beautiful.
And intimidating.
Sakura struggled despite herself as her Bakushi picked one up and twirled it over her stomach, but she was held completely immobile by the rope and couldn’t escape as he ran the glass rod between her legs and nudged it into the opening of her cunt. He slid it deeper as she wiggled again, the thick knot of the rope rubbing hard against her clit. And even higher when she cried out in hunger, slipping it in and out of her body while she struggled to maintain control.
And the entire time he watched her face, his eyes boring into hers from behind the mask, gauging her reaction, measuring her response.
“More?” he asked, speeding up his strokes. “Or maybe I should introduce you to anaru—the art of anal play. You have your safe word if you need it,” he added calmly, moving the rope aside as he worked the rod back toward the pucker of her ass.
“I don’t…I mean I’ve never—” Sakura tried to protest as he rubbed the tip of the rod around the tiny opening, tensing tight against the invasion.
“Breathe,” he ordered, twisting her clit between his fingers until the pleasure took over and made her weak. “I promise not to hurt you—much,” he added with a smirk that went way beyond licentious.
He was enjoying her trepidation, the bastard. But so was she, she realized a heartbeat later. Already her ass had begun to throb in expectation, new sensations rising to torment her further. She was so wet the moisture slid between her cheeks and he used it to lubricate the rod before he nudged it through the ring of muscle.
When Sakura bucked, he held her down, continuing to snug the rod into her ass, the sting enough to make her scream. It was too intrusive, too demanding, and she could not like it, would not like it…until he bent and pulled her clit into his mouth, sucking the knot of flesh until she forgot the pain enough to relax. Then he drove the rod higher into her ass, spiraling it in and out until it felt so good she was pushing back, giving him permission to take her even deeper.
And his mouth on her clit was more than she could take as the orgasm stole over her senses. He did not try to stop her as she came to a shuddering release that seemed to last forever.
But he continued to thrust his tongue against her clit, not giving her a moment of rest until the pressure began to build again.
“You will wait for me this time,” he ordered, reaching to snag a condom and roll it over his cock. He tapped the glass rod in her ass as he bore down on top of her, driving his cock into her cunt as he slid his tongue into her mouth.
He rode her hard and long and fast, the knot of rope rasping against her clit with every masterful thrust of his hips, and despite the bonds that held her imprisoned, Sakura reveled in the power of her ability to please him.
Do everything he’d demanded.
Take everything he’d given.
This time they climaxed together, her Bakushi mouthing his pleasure against her lips as he pushed into her a final time before collapsing at her side.
“I had intended to teach you the names of the utensils in the Tea Ceremony, keisei,” he said, rolling up onto one arm, his other hand pulling the glass rod free. “I will send you a gift to teach you. You will have the words memorized by the next time we meet.”
Then he bowed, retrieved his robe and left her to get dressed alone, wondering if he would return or if this was her cue to leave. Deciding on the latter, she placed her mask on the bed and left, her entire body aching in the aftermath of his attention.
* * * * *
Sakura was thrilled when the package arrived at Nakao Enterprises the next afternoon. She had the delivery man carry the heavy box to her office where she opened it in private, knowing her father would ask way too many questions if he caught a glimpse of the box.
She cut it open to find a computer flash-drive tucked into a small and elegant note that read:
On the flash drive you will find a video of one of the great tea masters. Watch. Keiko—practice. You will show me what you have learned Saturday at eight o’clock in two weeks’ time.
Bakushi.
She tucked the flash drive back into the note and placed them both in her pocketbook before lugging out the heavy wooden box beneath. Inside she found a Chabako—a Tea Ceremony toolbox containing everything she would need to perform the ceremony except for a brazier on which to heat the water. She examined each tool with serious intent before she placed them all carefully back in their case.
Then she took the flash drive and plugged it into her computer, watching as a beau
tiful Japanese woman appeared on the screen. She could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, her face ageless in its amazing beauty, only the few strands of silver in her hair giving any hint that she was older than she appeared. She wore a pink kimono dotted with flowers—cherry blossoms, Sakura noted with excitement—her tiny waist wrapped with a darker pink obi sash trimmed in purple. She crossed the room on traditional geta sandals, managing the task perfectly despite the footwear’s awkward heels which were basically two bars that ran across the sole of the sandals, one at the ball of the foot and one closer to the heel, making them difficult to balance properly. Then the woman dropped to her knees beside the tatami mat, sitting back on her heels without a wobble as she pulled a cloth from the sleeve of her kimono and began to perform the ritual.
Sakura watched in awe, noting everything from the tilt of the woman’s head to the movement of her hands, thrilled to have such a valuable and thoughtful tool. Then the entire sequence repeated itself, but this time she could hear her teacher’s voice saying the word of every item used in the ceremony, both in English and Japanese.
She vowed to have everything memorized by the Saturday after next when she would show her teacher what she had learned. After that Sakura would make him scream his gratitude after her tea lesson was finished and they moved on to darker pleasures…although she was disappointed he intended to make her wait so very long.
Caught up in her studies, she did not hear the knock on the door, jumping in guilty shock when Ian Shoji poked his head inside.
“Do you have plans for lunch? I’ve got a surprise for you.” He held out a brown paper bag and shook the contents, giving her a curious look when she slammed her computer closed. “Did I interrupt something important?”
“No.” Sakura removed the flash drive and reached for her purse.
But Ian wasn’t put off so easily. “What is in the box?” Before she could stop him, he bent over the package, furrowing his brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were importing contraband.” He grumbled as she nudged him out of the way before folding the edges of the box closed. “Probably banned produce or rare insect larva.”
Sakura had to laugh as he tried to look over her and peer again into the box, pressing their bodies close together. “If it is contraband,” she warned, her hands against his chest as she tried to push him away, “you had better get your nose out of it now. Papa would have a heart attack if he had to call your family and explain you were arrested.”
His muscles were firm beneath her palms, the heat of his skin seeping up along her arms to trickle down her into her stomach. Desire blossomed unexpectedly and Sakura knew Ian felt it too—she could tell by the way he stiffened as if afraid to come closer, yet unwilling to break the contact. Sakura stared at him from beneath her lashes.
“Didn’t your mother warn you not to look at men like that?” He finally jerked away.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re ready to strip and take them to bed.”
“You wish.” Sakura waved her hand at his face. “We’ve already had this conversation, remember?”
“We had a conversation about our family’s plans for a wedding,” he countered, “not about having a hot round of sex.”
“Do you want to have a hot round of sex?” If Shoji was going to act like an ass, she would be very glad to help him. “The two of us, naked in your hotel room, drinking champagne and making love until we both pass out?” Putting on her best come-hither pout, she sidled toward him, her hips swinging from side to side in an exaggerated motion.
To her surprise he chuckled and shook the bag once more. “I had intended to save these until after lunch but right now I feel like I need one.” He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. “Or the proverbial cigarette. You won’t tell your boyfriend I made a pass, will you?”
“Boyfriend?” Sakura was puzzled. “Oh.” She shook her head and grabbed her purse. “I made him up. So what do you have hidden in the bag?” she added as she saw his brows draw together. She hadn’t intended to let him catch her in the lie, but since they had reached an arrangement, she didn’t feel the need to keep up the pretense. And she certainly was not going to tell him about her teacher at the Red Mask.
To her relief he accepted the explanation, tipping his head toward the much bigger package. “Are we going to have some deal where I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” While his tone was still light, a darker glimmer lurked at the edges of his eyes, making Sakura want to slide up to him once more, but this time have the courage to actually reach out and wrap her arms around his shoulders and have him pull her close against the tapered muscles of his thighs.
With deliberate intent, she tucked such thoughts away. Ian wasn’t on the menu…not today, not ever.
“Not a chance.” Sakura slung her purse over her arm and led the way to the door. Some fresh ocean air would do them both some major good. “But I will spring for lunch if you’ll show me your surprise,” she called over her shoulder, making certain he followed. “I’m willing to fork out twenty bucks or so to see what’s hidden in bag number one.”
“Kit Kat bars,” he answered with a smirk.
“Kit Kat bars.” Her disappointment was obvious.
“Don’t look so glum, grasshopper. There are eighty different flavors of Kit Kat bars in Japan and I am going to make you taste some of the more interesting ones.”
“I can’t wait,” she said dubiously as they stepped out into the afternoon, squinting into the sudden sunlight. What had she hoped for…an intimate champagne meal for two? But Ian was different from her Bakushi, as light as her master was dark, as fun as her master was serious. Which was really too bad since she enjoyed the company of both men…although in completely different ways. “So where do you want to eat?” she asked, unable to resist the smile he gave her, or the way the wind feathered his sleek black hair.
“I thought we could grab some sandwiches and head down to Waterfront Park.” He took her hand in his and led her down the sidewalk. “I want to see the big pineapple fountain.”
Chapter Five
Thirty minutes later they were sitting on a bench on the pier finishing their sandwiches while the sea foamed around them. Sakura loved the sound and the smell of the ocean. She had grown up with it all her life and could not imagine spending even a few days away from the restless tempest of the water.
“In Japan the sea is an even brighter shade of blue,” Ian commented, his eyes fastened on the horizon. “But it is nice here too.”
“Snob. I’d pit the Atlantic against the Pacific any day of the week.”
“Have you ever seen the Pacific? And not in some picture or travel magazine. When the sun rises over the waters, it takes your breath away.”
Sakura sighed. “No. I’ve never been out of the country, actually.”
Ian frowned. “You’ve never even been to Japan?”
“Not once. Papa was the youngest of four sons and stood to inherit nothing from his family, but when he decided to come to the States to seek his fortune his father was livid. Papa had two uncles who were killed in World War Two, and after the added horror of the bombings at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, his father hated the US with a passion that bordered on insanity. Papa never went back.”
“So why all the interest in expanding his business there now?” Ian tossed their trash in a nearby can before moving to open the bag of Kit Kat bars.
“After his father passed, his brothers decided he’d been exiled long enough. They found Papa and made amends. Now he can’t get enough of what he’d given up all those years ago.” She shook her head as Ian laid several of the foreign candy bars across his lap. “Those are not Kit Kats,” she observed, picking one up to examine it.
“Indeed they are.” Ian pointed to them each in turn. “What flavor would you like to try first? I have Purple Sweet Potato, Citrus Golden Blend, Edamame Soybean—”
“Soybean? That sounds totally gross!”
“Or Japanese Chili and W
asabi, my personal favorite.” A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I will so not eat that.” But she giggled as he waved the candy in front of her face.
“Trust me, it’s a cult favorite.” He made a grand show of unwrapping the bar, which turned out to be a nasty pea-green color.
“Oh, dear God, no.” She clamped her mouth shut as he broke off a piece of the candy and held it to her lips.
“Wafer thin,” he said in a horrid French accent, causing Sakura to laugh so hard she disturbed a flock of seagulls perching on the railing. The birds took flight with a chorus of squawks and hisses.
She gave him a curious look. “I didn’t take you for a Monty Python fan.”
With a wink, Ian took a bite of the Kit Kat, closing his eyes in rapture as he chewed. “My father is practically obsessed. When I was young, we used to run around the yard clomping coconuts, pretending to be Knights of the Round Table. He still makes me watch The Holy Grail whenever he gets the chance.” He broke off another piece of the green candy and offered it to her. “Seriously, it is good.”
Sakura was still not convinced, but she bent closer and sniffed at the bite in his hand. “Ugh. Smells like horseradish sauce. Why are these so damn popular anyway?”
“Kitto katsu.”
“What?”
“It means great success.” He took another mouthful. “I’m surprised your parents didn’t teach you Japanese.”
“Papa spent years being completely American. He made Mama learn English, also, and it was all he would allow spoken in the house. I’m sure I knew some of the language when I was a child, but I’ve forgotten most everything.”
Ian touched the candy to her lips. “Taste,” he ordered in a voice so like her Bakushi’s Sakura opened her mouth out of instinct. Physical attraction thrust its sultry head between them as it had before. To break the mood Sakura closed her eyes so she couldn’t see the color, bit off a tiny bit of the candy and chewed, surprised by the sweet and spicy taste. While she wouldn’t eat it on a daily basis, it was much better than she’d expected. “Not too bad.”