Temper: Deference: Book One of the TEMPER Saga

by Lila Mina

  Snickering at her poor martial arts joke, she walked down the empty hall saturated with bright pink and golden decorations running under the ceiling until she reached the door of room 812. A thought struck her, freezing her hand mid-air.

  Would their room have any theme? The idea of finding him in a room filled with Hello Kitty memorabilia, or something tacky like leopard patterns had her suppress a fit of giggles. But she snorted loudly as the image of a dungeon-like, BDSM-themed room popped up in her mind, with Honda sprawled on the bed, wearing only crotchless leather pants and a spiked collar. Her explosive laughter would bring the whole affair to a trashy and painful end, and she would have to find another dojo.

  Nerves, nerves! Get yourself together, girl. Lana took several deep breaths to clear her mind from those treacherous thoughts and knocked on the door at exactly 3 pm.

  “Come in,” came Honda’s voice, and she stepped inside.

  “Ojama shimasu.” She used the traditional greeting when entering someone’s home, to apologize for disturbing them. To her great relief, it was a normal tatami room with nothing special, at least at first sight. No furniture except for a low coffee table he had pushed against a wall, and he hadn’t rolled out the futon mattress, folded in a corner. Tatami burns, here we come!

  She removed her shoes in the entrance before stepping up on the raised floor. She knelt and bowed in formal greeting, like at the dojo.

  “Good afternoon, Lana san. I am pleased to see you here.” His voice was neutral, neither warm nor cold. He was dashing in dark blue yukata pants and jacket. While not his aikido gear, it still spoke to his culture and fit his bulky body to a T. Well, thank you, o ye local deities of lust and passion, I’m a lucky girl.

  “Before we begin, is there anything else you would like to tell me about your training?”

  She shook her head, declining the way out that he handed to her. “No, everything is fine. Harsh and challenging, but fine. I enjoy it.”

  Honda nodded, shoulders and jaw relaxing. “Very well. We do not have much time. Stand up, take off your clothes and then come sit near me, little mudansha.” His use of her ‘pet name’ signaled formally that things were on their way.

  “Yes, goshujin sama.” She removed her jeans, purple blouse and white camisole, as well as her royal blue underwear, folded everything neatly and approached him.

  With her dark honey hair and chestnut eyes, she was used to standing out in any crowd in Japan. Her looks weren’t the only things singling her out. While not self-conscious, and happy with her well-toned and shapely body, she stood taller and weighed more than most Japanese women.

  Of course, Honda had already shown he appreciated her body, but still. She wondered what he made of her broad shoulders, muscled arms, and strong thighs. She wasn’t especially classy or feminine. He didn’t make any comment though. No leering at her, no lewd comments. It was almost a professional, clinical stare, except for the low-burning desire emanating from him. A pleasing sizzle of anticipation raced up her spine.

  Something else stirred, too. A thirst. A craving she couldn’t deny.

  “We will work with clear safe words and gestures. At any time, if you cannot proceed for whatever reason, just say ‘red’. If you cannot speak, tap the ground or your chest, like at practice. Do not hesitate to do it, in particular in the beginning, as we are still assessing your limits and abilities. Is this clear?”

  Lana nodded. Honda could overcome her without any difficulty, so it was important to clarify this. For now, he came off as less abrupt than at the dojo, and she appreciated it. Was he really so mad at my attitude back then?

  “Let’s begin by working on those marks you seem to like giving me.” He took off his clothes but kept his yukata jacket on his back, merely untying the strings. Her breath caught; his entire body was massive yet shaped by his years of training and rigorous regimen. “Come here.”

  Lana obeyed, using shikko, the special form of knee-walking used in martial arts to approach people respectfully, without standing up. Before she knew it, he had swept her on her back, performing a form of irimi nage where the attacker was slammed down, pulled at the collar from behind. Honda held her now pinned to the ground. Before Lana could check herself, her anger flared, and a loud growl passed her lips. He was already hard, his erection pressing against her thigh.

  Knowing he waited for it and acting on a fiery need to fight back, Lana raked her nails on his chest, leaving long red marks behind her. Honda grunted and checked her level of readiness by dipping two fingers inside her. She whimpered, welcoming the intrusion, and licked his chest to encourage him. The entire situation hit all the right spots and made her pussy wet.

  Without any further ado, not bothering with more foreplay, he slid into her and began pumping into her at a slow but powerful pace. She held onto his upper back with all her strength; each thrust ripped a moan from her. The friction, the places he touched, the energy rippling under his skin made her lightheaded. Her desire grew with each passing second: to be at his mercy while driving him over the edge fueled her arousal and filled her with boundless energy.

  “Harder,” Honda uttered, showing he had to control himself to not pound into her. “Go deeper with your nails, make me bleed.”

  Lana dug her fingers harder in his shoulders until droplets of blood oozed out. Honda quickened his thrusts. Her moans turned into a single breathy lament and perspiration broke out on her body.

  On an impulse, she locked eyes with him. Careful, methodical, she began to lick his blood, pressing her tongue on his skin, lapping the dark rich red liquid. She had never done this before. So filthy and decadent. Her vision darkened, and a rush of arousal jolted her. She came hard, clamping his dick inside her.

  He stopped moving and gave her a feral smile. “Good... you are learning... continue, dig hard and lick me.”

  With a whimper, Lana complied and soon she was lost again in the delirious pleasure of sucking his skin and blood, while his shaft continued to make her body shake. He sat down on his knees and brought her up. In this position, she could ride him and continue to lavish on his chest. She groaned, hungry pleasure blanking out any form of rational thought.

  She ground herself on his hard member, but Honda stopped her and made them face the same direction, her back against his chest. He parted her cheeks and guided himself toward her tight asshole. Surprised, Lana hissed and arched her back; his strong grip made it impossible to move away.

  “What is our safe word, little mudansha?” he whispered in her ear, his erection at her back, demanding entrance.

  “R… red,” she panted.

  “Do you want to say it now?”

  Lana moved back against him. “No… no,” she whispered, eyes shut.

  “All right, then relax, let me in…” His voice was deep and low, much like during practice when her shoulder was too tense to do a technique properly. She focused on her breath and created a mental picture of every muscle in her body. Time to uncoil them, to set aside any discomfort and anticipate the pleasure that would come afterward.

  At first, there were only his fingers, massaging, probing, stretching, shooting electricity along her back. Then, after long minutes of delicious torture, with slow moves but without hesitation, he resumed pushing.

  Once again, she moaned loudly, a new part of herself stretched beyond reason. But soon the burning friction became pleasurable, and she rejoiced in this absolute fullness. He started thrusting. It wouldn't be possible to hold it for long.

  “Ah, this… this… is… hm amazing… ah, please…” She was babbling but couldn’t care less. Honda twisted his hand in her hair and yanked her head. He pressed his lips to hers, and she gave him the taste of his own blood as he worked her ass. After a few minutes, he growled into her mouth and came long and hard inside her, triggering her own powerful orgasm.

  A thin sheen of perspiration covered her. Her slippery and shiny body couldn’t stop quivering, and tears blurred her sight. She couldn’t believe ho
w the man kept unlocking hidden vaults inside her, one after the other. It wasn’t only about new positions. Why was it so easy to submit to this guy? Careful, careful, careful girl… this can become a bit too addictive for comfort. Don’t get lost, now!

  She tried to get herself under control. Honda was still buried deep inside her and holding her tight. While she enjoyed giving him total control over their intense couplings, she was also intent in not revealing too much of her weakness toward him. Don’t expose yourself, don’t let him rule anything else than this, don’t give him power over the rest.

  Honda buried his face in her neck, below her hairline and… purred? But he was anything but a kitten. Rather a tiger, going for the jugular of his plaything. Her fingers traced invisible lines on his folded legs, then up along the hand and arm holding her fast. She wondered if he had other partners like her or a wife for that matter.

  “You are thinking too much again,” Honda growled against her skin.

  Lana had to take a couple of breaths, lest she express her exasperation and renewed anger at his insufferable ability to read her. “What makes you say this?”

  He pinched a nipple hard and smirked at her annoyance at the gesture. “Your shoulders tense and your jaw clenches when you are trying to figure something out. You do it at practice with new or more difficult techniques. You don’t let your body take control, learn by itself and speak on its own.”

  “I don’t do it so much!” But her protest was weak. Her face burned in embarrassment at his obvious criticism of her brainy attitude. She was proud of her many accomplishments and analysis skills.

  “Every single time. And you are still doing it now. You fight against your body, you try to keep it under control. But you have so many things locked in your hara, trying to get out. You need to at least acknowledge them.”

  While he spoke, his fingers left her nipple. They moved lower to rest against her hara, the area below the navel that was the center of balance and inner power according to aikido and other martial arts.

  Then something unexpected happened.

  The second his hand pressed there–ever so softly–her throat constricted, her head swam and the second most powerful panic attack she had ever experienced overwhelmed her.

  “R….red! Red! Just... Just let me go, now!” All pretenses of obedience flew out of the window as walls crashed down on her head and nausea swelled in her throat.

  Honda released his grip and she rolled over, far from him. Head on her arms, eyes shut, Lana tried to get back in touch with reality. She felt completely disconnected. Just like when…

  She blocked the disruptive thought. That cursed memory lane was a strict no-go. Rather, she tried to ground herself back in her surroundings like her therapist had taught her so many years before.

  “Empty your mind, focus on your breathing,” he instructed her from afar quietly; he had enough sense to not try to get near her.

  It took her several minutes to get her wits back. When she was herself again, she straightened up and sat again in seiza, still facing away from him. Her sternum began to burn, and to her embarrassment, her hands shook.

  “I… I apologize, I have no idea why I reacted like this.” Lana avoided looking at him. “I don’t know what happened.”

  It made no sense. How could his hand on her belly cause such a reaction? After his other, much more invasive and aggressive moves she had welcomed with pleasure?

  “Truly?” Honda challenged her with a growl. “You have been through this before though.”

  Lana cast him a sharp glance. He didn’t have the right to dig through her past. “Perhaps,” she snapped back. “Still, I don’t understand why your move triggered… it.” She wouldn’t use the word ‘panic’ aloud. Certainly not with him.

  It was surreal to have such a conversation while stark naked, disheveled and covered with bruises. A testament to their respective levels of self-control, it didn’t seem to matter. Lana couldn’t deny it was tough to stare at him without getting distracted. She was already too much attuned to his sensuality and body for her own good.

  “Well, I do.” His arrogance floored her. “Like I said, you are repressing too much, and in time of great… release, this leads to impossible emotional pressure, to excruciating tension, and your body rebels.”

  Lana couldn’t help her snarl. “So, you know what this means, you’ve experienced it? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised given the close check you keep on your emotions. Must be fun when everything blows up!”

  With an angry hiss, Honda knee-walked closer to her. It took her a lot to not step back, yet she tensed. She wasn’t ready to resume their physical rounds. He stopped before he could touch her.

  “Careful, little mudansha, mind your attitude and words. Even according to your extremely low Western standards, you are treading into dangerous, disrespectful waters,” he warned her.

  Lana lowered her eyes and breathed through her nose. “My apologies, goshujin sama,” she replied.

  “Yes, I control my emotions, as well as my needs and desires, but I acknowledge every single one of them. I don’t hide from them but decide whether or not to show them or act upon them. You understand the difference, right?”

  Again, Lana shuddered. Yes, of course I do. And you’re too right for comfort. I can’t do this. I love it, but I can’t.

  As long as she wasn’t clear about her own needs, she couldn’t be sure she could avoid another panic attack.

  “I understand the difference. As it is, I cannot continue what we began, I am truly sorry to admit it. There is much I have to address.”

  Honda tensed and remained silent for a while, lips pinched in a scowl. “I see. This is unfortunate. You could also let me help you confront this.”

  How tempting. “Yes, of course, but you are not my therapist, and I fear you might even be part of the problem. Or at least my reaction to you could be. I regret being so... weak. My apologies.” Her stomach churned at the admission, and another burst of pain made her wince. “Please respect my decision and release me from our agreement.” She bowed her head to the ground.

  Honda hissed, frustrated, but nodded once. “I regret this outcome but will respect your decision. I hope you will not consider quitting your aikido training.”

  Lana bowed again. “Thank you very much for your understanding. As for aikido, I will not quit practice as I have much to learn from you, Sensei. In time, I hope to be able to address my issues.”

  They bowed to each other and Lana quickly put her clothes back on before taking her leave. When the door closed behind her, she let out a shaky breath, and her stomach whirled. A bottle of wine sounded amazing. The idea of confronting him the next day made her cringe, but there was no way she would dodge that. She wouldn’t add ‘coward’ to her personal list of ‘weak’ and ‘psychologically impaired’.

  Dammit, that old crone was right. He’s too much for me.

  5

  Attempting to Move On

  Several weeks passed in a blur. To Lana’s relief, relying on their mutual professionalism, training had resumed with no awkwardness nor discomfort. Honda's stern attitude and sour expressions hadn’t changed, and his intensive regimen left her exhausted three times a week.

  She didn’t complain, welcoming this chance to progress the hard, traditional way in aikido. But her body wouldn't let her forget. Her mind still spun with newly unearthed emotions she had buried for far too long.

  One morning, Lana received an invitation to attend the wedding of two of her sempai, Ryota Takeda and Miyuki Kinoshita, at the end of April. As the groom was one of the grandmaster’s in-house students, having dedicated his life to aikido, they had invited everyone. Lana disliked going to weddings by herself though. She considered declining.

  The wedding–and whether to go without a date–occupied her thoughts for weeks. In addition, fresh work deadlines distracted her. So distracted, in fact, she almost didn’t notice Frank, one of the IT managers, when she entered their floor kitchen space
to fix herself a cup of coffee. He happened to be one of the handful of native French speakers of their office, so they often chatted together when they met up like this.

  Frank looked up from his coffee mug and threw her a large grin. “Lana! Hey, how are you on this bright and shiny morning?”

  “Not too bad, thanks.” Rummaging in the cabinet over the sink, she put her hand on the last clean cup available. “You?”

  “Well, except that it’s Monday, and I’m already in dire need of a break, I’m peachy! I spent all Sunday on the tennis court. Man, it felt good to sweat.” He stretched his arms over his head, ostensibly showing off his flat stomach. “I should go easy on my right knee though.”

  Not impressed by his antics, she gave him a slide glance and a wry grin. “Really? From what you’ve told me, I’d say the number one risk is twisting your wrist emptying too many cocktails at the lounge club...”

  The picture of fake offended shock, Frank made a ‘who, me?’ face before chuckling in his coffee and sitting at the round table. He wasn’t ready to go to work yet.

  Not in the mood for more meaningless chit chat, Lana was about to leave when an idea crossed her mind. From behind her mug, she gave Frank a hard look. If she had to be honest, he had never hit her radar. Tall and broad-shouldered, about her age, he was handsome enough, but they had never talked about anything besides work and generic topics. His college student attitude and self-bragging was more than a little annoying.

  However, she had a no-date problem on her hands. A real big one. With her limited social life, fueled by her lack of interest in hitting bars, she was running out of time. And who knows, maybe it’s just his work façade, and he’s quite a decent guy. If I’m lucky, something else could come out of this in the long run. Time to switch to more regular guys in any case. Clearly, bigger fish are out.