by India Millar
“You’re going to be a yakuza?” I whispered. I was shocked beyond belief. The leading yakuza in Edo had power and money. And yet most of their underlings were mere thugs, paid muscle who hurt and murdered to the order of their leaders. And this gentle, caring man was happy to live that sort of life?
“I understood what Akira-san was offering me. I had no doubt what he would expect in return for that offer. But it seemed worth it to me, at the time.”
He had avoided my question. His voice was very soft, and very sad. I drew back slightly so I could see his face clearly and saw misery in his eyes. What could Ken’s life have been like, that an offer from Akira seemed like salvation?
I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his mouth. Not even a kiss, barely a touch.
Ken smiled.
He put his arms around me and pulled me against him. I could feel his warmth, feel the powerful muscles in his chest and shoulders. He seemed quite content just to hold me. It was lovely, but after a while I began to itch for more. The feeling began to deepen until I wanted to feel his skin rubbing against me, his lips taking my mouth, his hands exploring my body. I was bewildered, and yet almost gasping aloud with anticipation.
Very, very slowly he raised one hand and ran his fingers over my face, exploring me with his fingertips. I caught one finger between my lips and bit softly. I wanted to munch on his flesh, to keep his finger between my teeth. For a moment, I had an image of him, his body caught like a morsel of food between my teeth, and I panted with pleasure at the thought.
I felt the loss when he took his finger away from me. But it was only for a second, and then his lips were closing on my mouth, tender and soft. The kiss went on for a long time before Ken, very delicately, slid just the tip of this tongue in my mouth, exploring my teeth and tongue gently. I stayed still, lost in what he was doing to me. When he took his tongue away, it seemed only natural that I should respond, nibbling his lips and pushing my own tongue into his wet mouth. Tasting him. Enjoying him.
I trembled. Partly with pleasure and partly with the realization that this was happening, that I was able to find intense pleasure in a man’s touch. Suddenly, I made my mind up. Whatever happened, I would accept it as my fate. If the pleasure suddenly ceased, then I would not pretend. I would apologize to Ken, and explain to him that the fault was mine, not his. But I would not even try and deceive him.
His hand caressed my neck, his fingers running over my skin where Fuwe-san had tried to kill me. Although it was not sore, I could suddenly feel where my patron’s fingers had left welts on my skin. Ken paused, and then he took his mouth away from me—immediately my lips felt his loss—and slowly trailed his tongue down to my neck, licking gently along the raised flesh.
I thought that perhaps Fuwe-san had, unknowingly, done me a favor. Although my neck didn’t hurt, it felt peculiarly sensitive. Ken’s lips were arousing the strangest sensation as he trailed down to the hollow above my collar bones, and paused to lick the length of each bow. The sensation was pleasurable but foreign to me, and for some reason made me want to laugh. I giggled, and Ken lifted his head and smiled at me.
“Am I tickling you?”
So that was what it was! I laughed out loud with amazement. I had heard the other girls laugh when they were touched in certain places. Kiku in particular had always screamed with laughter when a client flicked his fingers over the soles of her feet. But I had never been ticklish. Not long after I had become a geisha, one client had sat on my legs and scratched at the soles of my feet. I had had no idea at all what my response was supposed to be, so I had simply smiled at him, and he had been most disappointed. Because of that, I had always supposed that tickling was in some way akin to pain, and a bad thing. But now I knew different! The sensation Ken was arousing in my shoulders and neck was delicious, and for some reason made me think of a baby kicking and laughing with pleasure.
But Ken was still staring at me, smiling and waiting for an answer.
“Is that what it is?” I answered. “Tonight is a time of surprises to be sure! I have never felt ticklish before.”
He grinned and his face gleamed like a mask in the moonlight. “Then perhaps there are other things that you are going to feel for the first time, my Mineko.”
I was about to answer that I hoped so, but Ken had lowered his head and was licking his way down to my breasts, and suddenly I had no breath to speak at all.
He took my breast in his hand, as tender as a butterfly landing on a swaying flower. He licked my nipple, and then moved to the other one. He took his mouth away, and as the cool night air dried his saliva my nipples stood to attention.
I moaned with pleasure and surprise and he glanced at my face quickly and then smiled. He returned his mouth to my breast and suckled, gently at first and then with increasing urgency.
His tree was jutting into my hip. I reached for it automatically, taking it in my hand and beginning to rub my hand up and down its length very gently. It was an odd thing, but all my patrons wanted me to treat them softly. In fact, the more they did their best to hurt me, then the more careful they wanted me to be with them. I was shocked when Ken put his hand on my fingers, taking them away from his tree and folding them gently into my palm.
His voice was muffled by my breast as he spoke. “No, little one. Later, perhaps. When I have given you great pleasure. But not now. Tonight is yours.”
I tried to speak, but I had no words. I could hardly believe what he had said. All my old worries came crowding back in an instant, and I almost reached for Ken’s tree again, to try and distract him. But then he was taking as much of my breast as he possibly could in his mouth, and the pleasure was so intense I could manage nothing but a gasp.
Ken smiled and pushed me back on the tatami softly. He undid my obi and smoothed my kimono fully aside as if it was precious. As if I was infinitely precious. He leaned down and took my slippers off. I held my breath as he took my foot in his hand and then began to suck my toes, each one in turn, softly at first, and then harder until he was nibbling rather than sucking.
The sensation was breathtaking. It tickled. Why, I wondered, did this make Kiku laugh? There was nothing funny about it; it was delicious! It tickled and at the same time made me glow with pleasure. A pleasure I felt not only in my toes, but it seemed to be in the whole of my body. Finally finished with my toes, Ken moved on to the underside of my foot and nibbled and licked his way up to my ankle.
I tried to sit up. I couldn’t help it, this was all wrong. It should have been me giving pleasure to Ken, not him to me! But he shook his head at me, smiling. I lay down again, bewildered and delighted at the same moment.
His tongue ran up my leg as far as my knee. It found the hollow behind my knee, and I sighed with delight. Not a tickle this time, but something even more pleasurable. Ken sat back and ran his fingers up the back of my leg. His hand hovered at the entrance to my black moss, and I heard a sound so close it made me jerk with shock. It took me a moment to realize that it was I who was making the strange noise. I was whimpering constantly, and at the same time thrusting myself toward his hand fiercely.
“Shush,” he whispered. “Shush, little Mineko. You have waited for far too long for this. There will be no rushing. We will take our time and find what pleases you most.”
“Everything. Anything,” I gasped, and Ken smiled widely.
His finger flirted around my black moss. I arched my body toward him, desperate for him to put his fingers, his hand—and above all, his tree of flesh—inside me. But still he would not.
He stroked my black moss tenderly. He leaned forward and kissed me, his mouth hard on my lips, his tongue searching my mouth. His tree pressed hard into my belly, and I shifted, trying to force myself against it. Finally, he relented. His fingers slid into my sex and rubbed up and down my opening. I could stand it no longer. I grabbed his hand and pushed it into my sex, rearing up so I could force him as deeply inside me as I possibly could.
I had no idea why I
wanted him to do this. Many men had done this to me in past years. Men had put their hands inside me. More than one had tried to shove their entire foot inside me. Many had forced whatever object they fancied into me. One samurai—who should have been forced to surrender his weapon at the gate to the Floating World, but had not—had forced the scabbard of his dagger into me and had then taken great pleasure in pulling the scabbard back until the naked blade was slipping against my sex. I had really thought my last moment had come that night, but the samurai had relented at the last moment and withdrawn his sword with a sigh of pleasure before he had actually drawn blood. I had told Auntie about that patron, and she had said grimly that he would never come near the Hidden House again, no matter how high his status was.
The sword had frightened me. Many of the objects—feet included—had made me want to laugh at the silliness of my patron. But whatever they had used, it had never made me want more. I had never wanted any man to push himself inside me as deep as they could. Had never truly moaned and panted for more. Never felt as I did now. Never even dreamed that such sensations could exist.
My eyes were closed, but I could hear Ken breathing, smell his clean flesh. Suddenly, I wanted him to be as naked as I was. Just as I wanted his tree to rear and blossom inside me, I wanted to feel his skin rubbing against me. I reached up and undid his robe, pushing the material aside frantically. One he was naked, I slid my arms around his waist, pulling him down toward me. To my horror, I felt him hesitate. Had I done something wrong, something he didn’t like? I sighed with huge relief as he relaxed and slid down on top of me, his hands cradling the back of my neck and his lip seeking my breasts.
My sex yearned for him. I bit at his neck, rubbing against him like a cat who longs for a mate. I had acted this part many times before, each time I lay with a patron. Now, I was filled with joy to find out how far from the truth I had been. How, I wondered, had the patrons accepted my silly play acting and believed I was actually finding pleasure in them? I wanted, desperately, to explain this to Ken, but my lips were mute and would form no words at all. The best I could manage was a sound like a vixen barking, deep in my throat.
He seemed to understand. I could hear his breathing deepening. His hand moved and finally guided my eager fingers to his tree. I grasped it as if it was something very tender, very precious, running my fingertips up and down in time to a rhythm I could feel, but not hear. Ken moaned, the sound coming from his chest, and I smiled with great pleasure, allowing my fingers to slide down his tree to caress his kintama. I nipped gently. Squeezed. Ran my fingertip along the groove in his kintama and back up to touch the base of his tree again. Rubbed until I heard him moan again.
My other hand was in the small of Ken’s back, keeping him in the exact position I wanted. I stroked his spine, expecting to give him pleasure, and frowned when he tensed again. I did it again, as lightly as I knew how, and even in the midst of my own rising pleasure was puzzled.
Ken’s arms and chest were almost as smooth and silken as a girl’s. His chest was intensely muscular, sloping down to a narrow waist and then into the “V” that ended in the joy of his tree and bulging kintama. His arms too were muscular and very strong. He had the body of an athlete, or perhaps the dancer I had first taken him for. But there was something wrong with his back.
I felt again, running my fingers over his spine and down to his bum. The muscles were there, almost feeling like ropes they were so hard. But where the skin on his chest and arms was silky and smooth, the skin on his back was ridged and knotted. So gnarled it felt as if I was stroking the bark of an ancient tree, and yet—judging by Ken’s reaction when I touched his back—it was also exquisitely tender.
He lifted his head and stared at me in the silver light.
“Do I please you, Ken-san?” I had asked the same words time after time, day after day, but this time, I wanted to know the answer.
“You give me more pleasure than I had thought possible,” he said softly, and I could have cried with relief. He seemed to be waiting, and it occurred to me that I was supposed to say something back. But I had no words. Odd, when I had squealed and moaned and complimented each and every one of my patrons on their technique, no matter how bored I had been with their attempts.
“Please, please don’t stop.” It was all I could manage, but it seemed to be enough. Ken laughed at me silently and lay away from my body, staring at me. I lay on my back, arms at my side, and felt his gaze warming me. I prayed that he liked what he saw.
He bowed his head, almost as if in prayer, and lowered his mouth to the spot between my breasts. He plucked at the skin with his lips and then ran his mouth down to my stomach. He paused to blow in my belly button—and I laughed again as the lovely ticklish sensation came back—and then he began to lick slowly down to my black moss. His tongue ran around the outside of my moss, pausing now and then to pluck at the hair. I could barely stand it. It was all I could do to stop myself from shouting out loud, telling him not to stop, to carry on. Please.
I gave a strangled moan and grabbed his hair, trying to force his nose into my sex. I might as well have tried to bend a statue. I could feel the immense strength in his neck and shoulders, and no matter how I tugged I could not move him. He raised his head and grinned at me, wagging a single finger. I understood at once. He would not be hurried. I must wait. I released my hold on his hair, but nothing on earth could stop my body from rearing up to meet him.
Those teasing lips nibbled their way down slowly. The more I writhed and twisted, the slower was his progress. I was almost ready to scream out loud with frustration—and to hell with the consequences!—when instinct took over. How many men had I teased in just the same way? Allowed them to get close to my sex, and then jerked away at the last minute, only allowing them access to the blissful gates when I was ready? Ah, my lovely Ken! Two could play at that game! Besides, a mischievous spirit seemed to have taken me over. Suddenly, I wanted to be the one in charge. To give, not just to take. No matter how delicious this game was.
With a huge effort, I forced myself to subside on the matting and lie passive. Ken raised his head to stare at me, and I used the moment to take him by surprise. I wriggled and jerked from beneath him, putting my hands flat on his ribs and flipping him over on to the tatami. Before he could react, I slid my legs over his waist and straddled him. I could feel his tree pushing hard, just missing the entrance to my sex, and I could have thrown my head back and howled at the moon like a dog for sheer joy.
He was grinning at me, as though he understood perfectly. I grinned back, and then leaned forward and snapped hard at his nipple. He grunted with pain so I nipped the other one as well. I leaned back and scratched the length of his belly with my nails. I watched as his grin widened into a feral snarl. I had bare seconds to keep him under my control and took full advantage of the situation while I had the merest chance.
Men’s bodies—no matter whether they are a chance patron or a lover—are all the same. No matter whether they are old or young, tall or short, fat or thin, certain things arouse them. Equally, other things will slow them down and delay the moment of bursting the fruit. All we geisha in the Hidden House learned that very quickly, often from the patrons themselves. We understood that they were paying huge amounts of money for the pleasure of owning us geisha for the night. They did not want to burst the fruit quickly. Particularly the old ones, who would probably only get one chance at it.
So we learned to prolong their pleasure, as I wanted to prolong the delight of being with Ken now.
I felt behind me and took his tree in my hand, sliding my grip up and down. His tree was as silky as the rest of the front of his body, and to my probing fingers it felt as muscular. I remembered seeing it in the bath and giving thanks that it wasn’t as obscenely huge as Bigger’s. Midori had whispered to me that she had ridden Bigger, and lived to tell the tale, but if she had been telling the truth, she was surely the only woman who had managed to take pleasure in Bigger’s tree.
There! Ken was panting and thrusting at me as if his life depended on it. Quickly, I released my grip on his tree and grasped it further down, at the point where his tree joined his kintama. Tightened my fingers hard and squeezed for perhaps ten seconds. I watched Ken’s face slide into confusion and felt his writhing begin to lessen. I resumed my stroking, tightening and letting go again when I felt him reach the critical point once more.
Finally, I could stand my own teasing no longer. I wanted his tree inside me. Now. I let go of his tree entirely and leaned back, thrusting my breasts and belly toward him.
For one horrible moment, I thought I had done my work too well, and that Ken’s tree had simply lost interest. Then he was hissing, deep in his throat and his hands were on my shoulders, turning me over to lie with my back on the matting. His tree slid down from my belly, hovered at the entrance to my sex, and then slid into my wetness easily.
To my total horror, the moment he pierced me with his tree I found my whole body was rigid. My back locked, my neck creaked with the effort of trying to move. Even my sex knotted so tightly Ken gasped with the pain I was causing him.
I wanted to cry. After so much hope and anticipation, I felt as much as I did with a patron. I opened my lips to whisper how sorry I was, and Ken leaned forward, kissing my mouth gently. Licking my skin. Crooning nonsense softly in my ear, so softly his breath tickled, and I giggled. He did it again and then lowered his head and nuzzled at the hollow in my collar bone, licking softly at my skin. Nibbling. Blowing on the wetness he had left and making my skin tender as it dried.
