Kotori's Sacrifice

by Dakota Trace

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Kotori’s Sacrifice

  Copyright © 2015 by Dakota Trace

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-794-3

  Cover Art by Fiona Jayde and Dakota Trace

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Also by Dakota Trace

  Blind Need

  His Just Desserts

  Wyk’s Surrender

  Dedication

  A special thanks to my partner in crime, TL, who spent hours with me hammering out all the specifics of the masquerade and Devil’s Playground. I think we both operated on too little sleep to bring our corner of the Carnivore Club live.

  Kotori’s Sacrifice

  A 1Night Stand Story

  By

  Dakota Trace

  Chapter One

  “Do you need more, kotori? Or are you ready to fly for me?” Leaning in to whisper into the bound submissive’s ear, Seba brushed his lips against the delicate curve as his cock throbbed against his leathers. It’d taken a great deal of time, but he’d finally managed to push the lush Japanese woman to the edge of her control. Something she’d warned him would never happen when she’d admitted she wanted to submit.

  “Please, Sensei, I can’t.” Her dark chocolate eyes sparkled with unshed tears when she turned her head to make eye contact with him. Bound to the St. Andrew’s Cross in the middle of LRA’s main playroom, it was the only portion of her body she could shift.

  “Why not?” He trailed the butt of his whip across the ivory shoulder sporting a tiny, vibrant hummingbird tattoo. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I….” She bit her lower lip—something she only did when she lied. Then he saw her withdrawing once again. “I…don’t know.” Her lashes drifted shut, hiding her gaze from him.

  A low growl built in his chest. Tired of her games, his frustration simmered just under his skin. She’d come to him, begged him to push her past the rigid control she couldn’t seem to let go of. Yet, she still fought and lied to avoid the very thing she claimed to want.

  “Hiding again?”

  With his free hand, he popped one of the cheeks of her ass left bare by the leather thong she wore. “What is our first rule, Akari?”

  She drew a ragged breath. “I will look at Sensei every time we speak unless otherwise directed.”

  “And our second?”

  “I will speak the truth, Sensei.”

  “Yet you deliberately defy me at every turn. Lowering your eyes. Lying, when you know I can read your deception like an open book.” He drew back. “One would think you don’t wish to continue with our agreement.”

  “No…..” The first hint of true emotion crossed her face. Her lips trembled. “I’ll do better. I swear, Sensei.”

  He flinched at the soft honorific only she had ever used. A boon from when they’d first negotiated their contract, much like him calling her little bird. At first, he’d thought the Japanese words would put her at ease—something from her homeland—something familiar. Now, he realized, they were nothing more than another shield for her to hide behind.

  “You keep promising me, but so far I’ve seen no real effort.” He shook his head. “In fact, I don’t think you have any intention of doing better.” He coiled up the short whip, slipping it over a hook attached to his belt. Gazing at the slender red collar around her throat, he sighed. “I’m beginning to think I’m not the right master for you.”

  “Don’t do this, please, Sensei.” Tears spilled over her flushed cheeks. “Don’t give up on me….”

  “Yo, Seb! You in here? Mistress says the taxi for the airport is on its way.”

  Jerked out of the torturous memories leading up to the un-collaring of his last submissive, Seba Havas turned to face his beaming younger brother. A welcome interruption, his brother stood in the open doorway of the guest bedroom. At twenty-five, Wyk had found the woman who could satisfy him to hell and back. All at the hands of the mysterious Madame Eve. The same woman he’d put his confidence in after Wyk returned from Vegas wearing his assistant’s collar.

  “Yeah, I can’t believe I let you talk me into using this matchmaker, but if she worked for you, what do I have—”

  “To lose?” Appearing in the hallway behind Wyk, Venus joined her submissive. White, curvy, and a few inches shorter than Wyk, she was the perfect foil for his six-foot-four, darker-than-the-ace-of-spades brother. Venus radiated dominance. “One can only hope she can help change that long face you’ve been carrying around for the past six months. Besides, the Carnivore Club resort is reported to have the finest in leather and steel.”

  “So does LRA, if fine quality is all I need,” Seba replied, referring to the club where both he and Venus had memberships.

  Venus propped her hands on her hips. “So it does. Everything—including Akari.”

  Seba stiffened, but like an addict needing his next fix, he couldn’t help but ask. “She’s found a new Dom?”

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Seb,” Wyk pleaded, looking from Seba to his Mistress and back again.

  “No, he needs to know.” Venus placed her hand on Wyk’s shoulder. “She scened with Randy last night.”

  Seba’s heart sank. One of his best friends and the club’s most in-demand dominant, Randy could give her what she needed. “I see. He’s a good choice. Firm, but caring.”

  “She didn’t—” Wyk tried to comfort him.

  “Enough, Wyk.” Venus swatted his ass. “The doorman just called up. Seba’s cab is here. Why don’t you carry his bags down?”

  Wyk looked ready to argue, but held his tongue when Venus gave him a pointed look. After the door shut behind his brother, Venus turned back to him. “Look, I know you’re struggling right now, but you can’t keep ignoring your needs. Go to Vegas. Check out
the club. Enjoy yourself, and for once, quit worrying about what is going on with that little Asian tart who has you tied up in knots. Give Madame Eve a chance. She knows her stuff.”

  Seba gave her a half-ass grin. “I think you might be partial, but thanks for the pep talk.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Worry about keeping my brother in line while I’m gone. I want a business to come back to.”

  She laughed. “Darlin’, it’s what I do best.”

  ***

  After landing in Vegas, Seba piled into the hotel shuttle, along with several other tourists on their way to the flagship hotel of the Castillo Hotels and Resorts chain. Shutting out the excited chatter of his fellow passengers, he stared out the window at the bright, flashing Vegas lights. Instead, he focused on his upcoming date. The folded papers inside the pocket of his suit jacket held all the pertinent information about the submissive Madame Eve had set him up with. Well, other than her name. The woman’s request for anonymity didn’t surprise him. After all, they would be meeting at the grand opening of an underground BDSM club. He couldn’t expect her to want to broadcast her identity.

  “Okay, folks, we’re here.” The shuttle driver steered into the circular drive in front of the hotel.

  Seba exited and waited for the driver to pop the rear hatch. After grabbing his overnight bag and the plain black duffel holding his toys, he headed toward the entrance, distracted when his cell phone vibrated at his hip.

  Unclipping the device, he saw he had two new texts. Thumbing through the first, he shook his head. Wyk wanted to know if he’d landed and made it to the hotel yet. Since his brother had set up his reservations, he should’ve expected the little snoop would want feedback. He sent back a quick reply that he’d arrived but hadn’t checked in yet. Then he moved on to the second text. A reminder from Madame Eve that the costume for the masquerade party where he’d be meeting his date would be delivered no later than eight o’clock. After texting a thank you, he snapped his phone shut and sighed. How the hell had he gotten himself into this mess? Why couldn’t Akira have been what he needed?

  ***

  Standing with a crowd of Japanese tourists near the fountain inside the lobby of the Vegas Castillo Hotel and Resort, Akira Ito caught her breath when Seba stopped to check his phone. Even wearing rumpled clothing from his flight, his broad shoulders, trim waist, and close-cropped dark hair made her want to fall to her knees—to offer her submission. She’d fucked up the last time they’d been together. The second the lie passed her lips, she’d known better. He’d warned her time and time again about her evasiveness and little white lies. But I didn’t expect him to remove my collar and tell me he no longer wanted to be my Dom.

  Her fingers went to her bare throat. After wearing the choker for the short six weeks she’d served him, she shouldn’t have grown quite so attached to it. Or still be missing its presence almost six months later. But she did. Almost as much as she missed touching all of his luscious chocolate skin. Watching him walk across the lobby, she wanted to go to him, to beg him to take her back. Hell, she’d even try to explain why she found it so hard to let go. She closed her eyes for a moment, reminding herself it wasn’t the time. Madame Eve had given her explicit instructions. She couldn’t approach Seba until the masquerade tonight.

  “Miss Ito?” A tall, immaculately dressed man appeared next to her. He held out his hand. “My name is Jackson Castillo, and I’d like to welcome you to our hotel.”

  “Thank you.” She shook his hand, amazed he’d sought her out. A personal touch for a man in his position. “If you greet everyone this way, it’s no surprise you do well.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled, revealing startling-white teeth. “However, today I’ve been asked by a very close friend of mine to give you a gift. Madame Eve has quite the treat for you. If you’ll follow me, you have an appointment at our hair salon followed by another at our spa. I’ll have your bags delivered to your room.”

  Her mind whirled. She’d spent a huge chunk of her savings on her 1Night Stand date. Judging by the decor in the lobby, there would be no way she could afford the pampering he suggested, and still be able to eat. “But I didn’t set up—”

  “Nonsense. Consider this a perk. A part, if you will, of your date-night package. Madame Eve has taken care of all the details.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Much like the costume you requested, she has provided for everything during your stay. All you need is to relax and let her work her magic.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip. “Well, I guess it would be rude to refuse.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Of course, it would be.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go?”

  Pasting a pleasant expression on her face, she took his arm. “Lead the way, Mr. Castillo.”

  ***

  A few hours later, every part of her had been scrubbed, peeled, plucked, and lotioned until she glowed. They’d even waxed her pussy hair, until only a small triangle remained at the top of her mound. They had then colored the swatch to match the new vibrant burgundy red of her formerly ebony hair. To her surprise, she hadn’t gotten many weird looks when a uniformed staff member had escorted her from the salon to the spa. In fact, they passed several other people with unusual hairdos and a few who might be in costumes along the way. Perhaps they’re having an anime or Comic-Con at the hotel this weekend.

  After kicking off her shoes, she curled her toes into the plush carpet of her suite. She couldn’t stop giggling at the sparkly nail polish the pedicurist had applied. She’d never worn anything but soft, pale pink. Heaven forbid the heiress to the Ito fortune be caught doing anything scandalous. “Like it really matters now,” she muttered. “Considering what little money Father didn’t throw away at the craps table, he squandered on loose women and American liquor.”

  She laid her garment bag across the bed. Anticipation built in her stomach. She couldn’t believe her recklessness, but she couldn’t throw away what would be her final chance to resume her place in Seba’s life. If it takes dressing up like his favorite manga character, I’ll do it—red hair, guns, and all. Self-conscious, she tucked a lock the colorist had somehow managed to perfectly match to Mey-rin’s, behind her ears. Overwhelmed, she sank down on the soft mattress. Even though the stylist had assured her it was temporary, it would still take a week to ten days to wash out. She expected to get more than a few strange glances when she returned to Chicago, but it would be worth it if she wore Seba’s collar.

  B-R-RING.

  The phone’s sudden jangle startled her out of her thoughts. Reaching over, she picked up the handset.

  “Hello?”

  “I see you made it safe and sound.” Venus’s calm voice on the other end of the phone settled her nerves, as it always had.

  “Yes. I just got back from the spa. All I can say is your brother-in-law had better appreciate this. Because I let them wax and color parts of me no good girl should ever allow.”

  A low grumble carried over the line. “This is about you shedding your good-girl image and letting your inner bad girl come out and play, Akira. There is no condemning father there to scold you, no tutor to rap your knuckles. However, if you act bratty, don’t be surprised if Seb warms your ass.”

  She flushed and squirmed against the satin duvet at the thought. “Like you never hit me.” She sighed. “But, even if I earn a punishment from this little stunt, it’ll be worth it.”

  “What if you don’t get your man?”

  Akira’s heart ached at the suggestion. “If Seba decides to walk away, I can always tell myself I tried.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with trying.” Venus paused. “I want you to do me a favor, well actually two. First, Wyk’s begging for a picture of you in your Mey-rin getup, and second…forget about the serious, uptight teenager I met all those years ago, when your dad hired me to tutor you. She’s gone. You’ve grown up. Instead, be the woman, the submissive, I know lurks deep inside of you. Let the rest of the world be damned. Can you do that for me?”
<
br />   “I’ll try,” Akira whispered, blinking away her tears.

  “No, you’ll do more than try. You will succeed—or I’ll paddle your ass myself when you return. Nothing ventured….”

  “Nothing gained.” She gripped the receiver, praying her courage wouldn’t desert her.

  Chapter Two

  A loud knock startled Seba awake. Lying on one of the most comfortable beds he could ever remember sleeping in, he yawned. Disoriented, he blinked then groaned when his sleep-dazed mind recognized the beautiful suite.

  Vegas. My date. Damned masquerade ball.

  He pushed up on one arm and stared at the mantel clock above the fireplace. Ten minutes to eight. He’d only planned to rest his eyes for a moment, but slept several hours.

  “Mr. Havas?” The voice filtered through the door.

  “Yeah, I’m coming. Give me a second.” He scrubbed his palms over his face then swung his legs off the bed and headed across the room.

  He yawned once more, trying to shake the cobwebs while opening the door. A uniformed bellhop offered him a dark-maroon garment bag.

  “Mr. Castillo asked me to bring this to you. He also wanted you to know the limo taking you and your date to the masquerade will be out front at nine o’clock.”

  Seba nodded, taking the garment bag. “Thank Mr. Castillo for his thoughtfulness.” After giving the young man a generous tip, he sent him on his way.

  Hanging the garment bag on a hook in the bedroom, he noticed a crisp white envelope nestled in a clear, zippered pouch. Intrigued, he tugged out a midnight-blue invitation with ivory lettering.

  You are cordially invited to the Sins of the Angel Masquerade Ball

  Being held at the Carnivore Club from 10:00 p.m. until 2:00 a.m.