Hokai with his submissive...      

On her knees naked before him, her leash tugged sharply upward, she swallows his semen, noting its sugary brimstone taste. The scent of a lit match dipped in honey, she thinks. It is an honor to feed on his essence, to let him become part of her this way. Her body responds with pleasure even as her jaws ache from taking him into her throat. Her tonsils feel bruised; she savors his brutality as he thrusts hard one last time, gives her one last dollop of himself. Her greed for him is insatiable; she takes all he gives and wants it all again and again. There is a faint popping sound as he pulls himself free of her sucking.

       Around her throat the rope, silky smooth, tightens as he lays her back now and lifts her feet. For a moment she is held level to the floor by only the neck rope and his hands. Her labia part, oozing clear nectar, as her vagina swells in lust. She wants him inside her now as a rope loops casually over first her left ankle, then her right.

       As he concentrates on tying her properly she keeps her back stiff and her belly tense. When he is done with her feet he loops a rope around the small of her back, then presses the flat of his palm on her pubic mound. She relaxes, letting the rope take her weight, and as a reward he leans down and kisses her straining clit through her glossy black, damp pubic hair.

       Her breathing is shallow and quick.

       Around them as he works, adding layers of rope in coils, perfecting his art on her body, the ship rocks in the harbor’s slow tides. They are in a hold, lighting dim from a few bulbs in cages mounted high on the bulkheads. Clangs and thuds echo unexpectedly even as a far-off drone pulses. Scents of grease and rotted rice from a prior shipment seem to stain the air.

       She ignores it all, alive to the touch of his ropes, his hands, his skin. His voice soothes her. His artistry makes her proud to be his subject, his medium, and his focus.

       “Shibari is the formal expression of inner truths.”

       She responds like a petted horse, her flesh rippling at the caress of his voice. Teach me, master, she thinks.

       She quivered inside but for once did not look away. She had to remind herself to breathe in order to say, “Yes.”

       “As my student you will fulfill my assignments.”

       She nodded, noticing the gold flecks in his brown irises and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

       “Each assignment is another step toward becoming something rare and precious.”

       Again she nodded although she did not really understand what he meant. All she knew was that the thought of obeying him gave her a kind of excitement she’d never felt before. And the orgasm she’d had, spontaneous and stunning, had to mean something, didn’t it? Surely that had been precious and rare.

       “Once you are my student, you will obey me in all things and if you balk you will be punished. Is this understood?”

       “I understand, yes.” In the back of her mind she wondered how good the punishments might feel to her, even as another layer of her mind wondered what the hell was happening to her. She was having trouble breathing now and she trembled as she reached for the teacup for another sip.

       “Pour the tea onto your breasts.”

       “What?” It was as if he’d slapped her, and Alaya wasn’t sure if she had even heard him correctly. And then her hand holding the cup tilted and warm liquid spilled over the front of her body, making her nipples stand out against the wet fabric of her chambray blouse. It would stain.

       Hokai smiled, very faintly, mostly in his eyes. “Good. Take off your blouse.”

       Trembling now twice as badly she reached up and unbuttoned her blouse, first the cuffs, then the front. She wore no bra. Once the blouse was unbuttoned she shrugged her left shoulder free and pulled her left arm from the sleeve. Her heart raced. She felt dizzy. She had never done anything remotely like this before but she needed to prove to him that she would obey him. It was as if she had known him all her life, maybe through many lifetimes, and to disappoint him now would be a betrayal of herself and maybe even the world around her.

       Her right arm came free and the blouse fell behind her. She sat with her breasts exposed, nipples rampant. A blush descended from her face onto her chest and touched the tops of her breasts.

She could not look up at him and hoped he was pleased by what he saw. She had to keep resisting the urge to cover up.

       “Hand me the blouse, please.”

       She gathered it and handed it across the table, wondering why he wanted it. A part of her also noticed that he was not outwardly moved by her nakedness. Of course a man of his age and experience would not be much affected by boobs, she scolded herself. Grow up a little for the gods’ sakes.

       He slid the panel open a few inches and said something in Japanese in a low tone, then handed the blouse out of the small room.

       Alaya shivered as a snake of chilly air found her. She rubbed her upper arms to warm herself.

       Hokai said something else and a few moments later a faint knock sounded. He slid open the panel again and accepted something. Shutting the panel, he handed Alaya what proved to be a beautiful dark blue kimono robe. She put it on gratefully, the silk against her skin at first touch cold but instantly warming. The embroidery, showing dragons and tigers and monkeys, added a hint of texture she found delicious.

       “Stand and remove your other clothes.”

       Again she was caught short, surprised by being asked to go even further so soon. Her belly felt hollow and her legs weak as she awkwardly got to her feet. She told herself, after all, she had intended to invite him to fuck her; playing his game was the same basic thing. Or so she thought.

       Unbuckling her jeans, she slipped them down over her hips, letting them fall from the knees down. She stepped out of them and, folding them, set them atop the backpack.

       Next she looked at Hokai, who was watching her. He seemed impassive. He was not leering, nor drooling, the way Chuck or any of those immature college boys would have been doing.

       “Those, too.”

       Blushing again, Alaya realized she had never been naked with a man like this before. Certainly not in a restaurant. Although the room was cozy and private, it was separated from the general public areas by only a thin layer of rice paper stretched on a frame of cherry wood.

       Hooking her thumbs into the elastic waistband, she slowly lowered her panties, flushing now enough that sweat broke out on her brow. The silk robe hanging around her afforded her some measure of psychological cover but she was naked in that open robe, and felt exposed in public. She stooped and lifted the panties.

       Hokai’s hand came out.

       Taking a shaky breath, Alaya handed them to him and watched him crumple them and place them into the pocket on the right side of his suit jacket.

       She fumbled for the belt to tie the robe closed.

       He shook his head, once. “Leave open.”

       She began sitting down, having to do it by degrees due to the cramped quarters.

       “Stand. I did not tell you yet to sit.”

       She stopped, looking at him. A note in his voice alarmed her. She hoped he was not angry with her. Standing, she let the robe fall as it would and tried not to notice the small trickle of excitement beginning to slide down the inside of her left thigh.

       It came to her that she was naked and without blouse or panties in a place she’d never been, and no one knew she was there. She was obedient to the commands of a man she’d never met before and had only heard of for the first time an hour or two ago. As a rational part of her asked why she had let herself into this situation her body, focused on Hokai, simply stood.

       With careful, deliberate motions Hokai cleared the table of the lacquered tray and tea things, setting them near the sliding panel. When the table was clear of everything he said, “Drop the robe and lay down, on your back, head this way.”

       She was panting as if she’d run all the way there. Her first impulse was to tell him No. To walk out, wearing the robe. To deny him any command over her. How dare he? Who or what did he think he was? Who or what did he think she was?

       And as before her body moved despite the thoughts in her mind. She dropped the robe from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a silken puddle.

       He did not help her, did not touch her at all, but watched motionless as she leaned down, placed her palms flat on the table, and lowered herself, first sitting her right hip on the table, then sliding her hips to the center and laying back. She had to scrunch toward her hips to find support for her head, and this left her legs hanging mostly off the table, its edge cutting across her ass.

       She had to bend her knees to keep from putting a foot through the rice-paper panel. She put the soles of her feet flat on the floor. He had arranged her with her head into the room and her vagina facing the public area. She tried to avoid thoughts of a gynecological examination.

       “I will eat a meal with you as table. You will feel warmth and chill and you will not spill my food or drink. Yes?”

       “Yes.”

       She lay gazing up at the ceiling, which had exposed beams and white plaster and a hanging paper lantern with a leaf pattern. Pride slipped into her swirling emotions. She could do this for him. Weird as it was, it was sexy, too.

       The panel slid back and a woman in geisha entered, ignoring the unusual table as she set out a meal on its quivering, pliant surface.

       Alaya felt the teapot come down, a warmth that slowly built toward pain. She felt cold, too; some sushi rolls on a flat lacquered tray. A bowl of soup was hot and she winced but forced herself to take the slight pain, tensing her belly as it was placed atop her pubic mound. A vial of saki was next, warm but not unpleasantly so. The small glass from which it was drunk was slightly cold; the contrast so close seemed to balance out for her and she relaxed.

       The geisha left and the panel slid shut and Hokai, after a few moments of meditation, picked up his hashi and began his meal. He ate quietly and slowly, contemplating each bite, unhurried and tranquil.