Samurai Captive

by Barbara Sheridan

  “Shit,” she muttered as the crawling made the blasted rope rub against her again. She sure as hell hoped the little wooden jug had water in it, or Sanada-san had better be prepared to hear her screaming for a drink. The jug definitely had something in it. Cautiously, Hannah dipped one finger in and brought it up under her nose. It didn’t smell like anything. She licked it. It sure seemed to be water. “Here goes nothin’,” she whispered, before grasping the jug and taking a sip.

  It was water. Not cool as she’d have liked, but it was heavenly nonetheless. She didn’t drink too much, though, because she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to take a piss. Sanada-san may be getting that late night screaming after all. Hannah’s thoughts broke off as sounds came through the thin walls. She crawled closer to the rice-papered door and leaned in.

  No. It couldn’t be, could it? Were Sanada-san and that friend of his having a bit? They were! Hannah had heard enough of men’s muffled moans growing up to know that sound. She sucked in her breath as a gentle pulsing went through her cunny.

  She could see the flickering light of candles on the rice paper panes of the shoji, and she wondered if she could get a peek without them seeing. Hannah held her breath a moment and listened to the men. She didn’t know a whole hell of a lot of their language, but she knew the sex words from being at the brothel.

  “Motto!” Sanada’s friend whispered hoarsely, demanding more.

  Hannah eased the shoji open just a tick. “Irete,” Sanada’s friend begged as the samurai thrust his finger in and out of his friend’s arse. “Irete!”

  I don’t blame ya for wantin’ more an’ begging to have that cock in ya, Hannah thought as she remembered the feel of Sanada’s fingers buried in her. She’d wanted more too, and she was wanting it all over again.

  His friend writhed on the futon when Sanada pulled away. Hannah’s eyes followed him every inch of the way as he crossed the room in the dim light. God, but he was a handsome devil. He wasn’t as tall as some men back home, but he was bigger than a lot of the men here and his body was well toned from the sword training they all seemed to do. The firm muscles of his back and shoulders glistened with a sheen of sweat, and Hannah wanted very much to lick it off and taste the salt of him on her tongue.

  His arse was firm and rounded, his thighs muscled, but not too thick. He moved with the grace of a big wild cat she’d seen at a traveling carnival once, and Hannah very much wanted to roll over and be his prey.

  When Sanada crouched down to root in one of the drawers, she could see his cock and balls. He was only half hard, but he had more than enough to fill her and she had to bite her lip to keep from calling out to him to do just that. He got a little jar and carried it back to the futon where he dropped it, and when he bent to retrieve it Hannah got a nice look at that lovely arse and those heavy balls.

  She wanted him badly. She wanted to be his whore.

  Katsu smiled to himself when he caught the faint intake of breath from his pretty captive. So she appreciated the view he gave her.

  “We have an audience,” Masato muttered when Katsu returned and knelt beside him.

  “I should have her join us.”

  “No,” Masato answered sharply as he sat up. “Tonight you’re mine.”

  Katsu was more than a little surprised by the tone and the way his friend grabbed a handful of his unbound hair and dragged him forward for a kiss. Katsu groaned into Masato’s mouth when his friend opened the container of camellia oil and slid his oiled fingers up and down the length of his cock then captured his mouth in another hard kiss.

  “I want you, Katsu. Fuck me.”

  Hannah couldn’t have stopped watching even if she’d wanted to. She’d seen plenty of men and women fucking, but this was like nothing she could imagine. The passion between the two samurai was like nothing she’d ever seen. Their kisses were hard and intense, brutal yet beautiful in a way she’d never be able to describe.

  She wanted to twist her fingers into Sanada’s thick black hair and pull him down on top of her the way his friend was doing. She wanted to feel Sanada’s teeth clamp around her tingling nipples, wanted to have him grab her knees and lift her legs and slam that glorious cock of his deep into her the way he was doing to his friend.

  Her gaze was glued to that firm, perfect arse of his as he pumped in and out of the other man with slow, hard strokes. The tight muscles of his back and shoulders were tense, the skin glistening in the candlelight as he began to perspire. Hannah shifted, gently rocking as she knelt to let the silken ropes rub against her tingling flesh. Without warning, Sanada pulled out of the other man’s body. In an instant he was slamming the shoji open.

  Hannah shrieked and fell back. She tried to scramble away, but the samurai reached down and seized her around the waist. He carried her into the other room and dumped her on the floor near the futon. She hit with a dull thud, her arse scraping against the woven grass floor mat. She’d barely caught her breath when Sanada snatched his tanto from the sword rack near the futon. His angry friend made a move for one of his own swords, but stopped when Sanada muttered something to him.

  Tears welled up in Hannah’s eyes, and she clasped her bound hands in front of her. “I’m sorry for watchin’. I didn’t mean no harm. I’m sorry! Don’t kill me, please!”

  “Quiet!” Sanada growled. He unsheathed the sharp dagger and seized her wrists.

  “Please ‑‑”

  “Don’t move!”

  Hannah clamped her eyes shut and held her breath, waiting to feel the sting of the steel at the throat. There was nothing but a faint rush of air as the samurai made a few swift cuts and the silk ropes fell away.

  She shrank back and gasped when Sanada’s friend lunged at her, his hand raised to strike. The man stopped when Sanada barked an order at him. Cursing, the other samurai reached for his clothing, but again Sanada stopped him. His tone was softer this time, and he knelt beside his friend and drew him into a kiss that sent a chill through Hannah. The two men tumbled down to the futon once more, Sanada on top and his friend bucking his hips up.

  Sanada pulled away and stared at Hannah as he reached once more for that jar and dipped his fingers inside. He ran his oil slicked fingers over his cock then reached for his dagger, rubbing oil over the black lacquer scabbard. He shoved it toward Hannah.

  The other man jerked upright and complained, but Sanada only laughed and pulled his friend into another kiss. Sanada’s friend reared back, gave Hannah a disgusted look, then pulled Sanada with him as he sank back down to the futon. Within minutes, they had picked up right where they had left off before Sanada dragged Hannah into the room.

  Hannah whimpered, and Sanada looked over his shoulder at her as he drove his glorious cock into the other samurai’s body.

  “Take it,” he said glancing at the tanto on the floor beside her. “Do it.”

  Swallowing, Hannah kept staring at the samurai and reached out to run her fingers along the cool, oil slicked wood. It’d be real easy to stab him and make a run for it, but she could tell from his expression that he knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t because she couldn’t. She wanted to be here, wanted to watch him fuck his friend, needed him to fuck her.

  “You bastard,” she whispered when he smirked as she took hold of the sheathed dagger. She shrugged her arms out of the yukata and lay back on it, then drew her knees up and stroked her fingers across her pussy. She was still swollen to the touch and hot from the flush of blood coursing through her.

  She dipped her fingers inside, stroked her wetness over top of the oily coating on the tanto scabbard, then parted her pussy lips and slid the sheathed weapon inside.

  The lacquered wood was cool against her burning inner walls, the tiny iron cap at the tip sending shivers through her as it bobbed up against the mouth of her womb.

  Listening to the sound of the men, she began fucking herself, imagining it was Sanada’s hard cock sliding in and out of her.

  Katsu could smell the English woman’s arousal on t
he cool night breeze that drifted through the airy house. He imagined it was her hot body gripping his cock and bringing him closer to the edge with each swift stroke.

  “Harder. I’m almost there,” Masato choked out. Katsu kissed him to silence him and retain the illusion that he was plunging in and out of the white woman’s body. He reached down and jerked Masato’s cock until he stiffened and came, the hot semen splatting against Katsu’s sweaty chest. Katsu pulled out of his friend immediately and knelt beside Hannah-chan.

  She gasped when he kissed her and moaned into his mouth when he slipped her hand out of the way and stroked his thumb across the swollen bud nestled high in her wet folds. He pulled the tanto from within her, his cock jerking at the obscene wet sounds her body made as it slid free.

  She grabbed his arm. “Please don’t. Please let me come. Please fuck me.”

  “I will,” he murmured. “But not now.” He kissed her again, possessed her mouth with his tongue, then moved over her. He lifted her heavy, rounded breasts and stroked the pads of his thumbs over the large dusky nipples. He bent down and suckled one, loving the way she moaned and ran her long, thin fingers through his tousled hair. She squirmed beneath him, rubbed her wet sex against his thigh.

  He scraped her nipple with his teeth as he pulled away and slid down. Nestling himself between her legs, he raised her hips and stroked her slit with his tongue, lapping up her sweetness like a parched wanderer.

  She moaned his name, scraped her fingers against the tatami, and arched her back, begging him for more. He fucked her with his tongue then laved over her hard bud until she cried out, jerked upward, and shuddered in his grasp as tremors shook her body. Hannah-chan collapsed and struggled to catch her breath.

  Katsu kissed her mound and inner thighs before sitting back on his heels and licking the taste of her from his lips. Masato was glaring at him. Before he could question his friend, the other samurai threw on his kimono, grabbed his other clothing and swords, and stalked out of the room.

  Chapter Four

  “I wonder what got his knickers in a twist.”

  Katsu looked at her. “Explain.”

  “Your friend is angry, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” he answered quietly before reaching to pick up his kimono from the floor. “Get dressed and come with me,” he ordered as he slipped his long sword into the belt tied at hip level.

  Hannah frowned and wondered what he was up to, but she decided she didn’t have all that much choice. She pulled on the yukata then followed him. The samurai only glanced back once as she trailed along behind him through the quiet house then outside along the long veranda. Hannah’s spirit took a hit with the high and mighty attitude his lack of concern conveyed.

  He may be a handsome and powerful bastard, but where did he get off acting like she was his little puppy that’d follow him blindly? She considered trying to make a run for it just to show Sanada what for, but of course that foolish notion didn’t last but a second. Where the hell was she going to run to, looking and smelling like she just escaped from a whorehouse?

  “Woof woof,” Hannah muttered under her breath.

  The samurai stopped dead, and she nearly ran into his broad back. “What?”

  Hannah gave a dismissive wave. “I didn’t say nothing; just get on with your business.”

  Sanada led them to a privy that was definitely a cut above the nasty little slop holes she’d grown up around. She had to give it to these Japanese ‑‑ they sure did have a certain style. She doubted anyone less than the queen herself did her business in a place with such nice little carvings, colorful wood on the door, and the spicy scent of incense masking the usual smells.

  “You wait,” Sanada told her before he stepped inside to do his business.

  Hannah turned and “wagged her tail,” then sat on the edge of the veranda and waited.

  When he returned, the samurai gestured for her to relieve herself, but she waved him off. “I’m good for now.”

  “Then come,” he said, stepping out of the shoes they left outside to be worn in the privy only, then back into his own wooden sandals.

  Wouldn’t mind coming for ya again, Hannah thought with a smile as she followed once more.

  This time they made their way back to the bathhouse, and Hannah found herself exhaling a sigh. The samurai turned and stared at her. “Don’t mind me none. I was just feeling homesick and wishing I had a little cake of some lavender soap.”

  “Explain.”

  Hannah thought a moment, then as best she could, used what Japanese words she knew to get the point across.

  “This soap, it smells like flowers?”

  “Yeah. It’s real nice.” Again she used what little of the language she knew to explain that even though she grew up dirt poor, her mother always found a way to get them some good soap from the West End markets. To use for special occasions over the cheaper stuff they relied on most of the time.

  “You mourn her, your okaasan?”

  Hannah nodded. “I guess she weren’t the best mother, but she weren’t the worst either. She tried to do right by me. I just wish I could have grown up to be a proper lady the way she wanted. Maybe I’d have stayed in London and done my best to do that if she’d lived.”

  Katsu didn’t understand all of her foreign words, but he could tell from her tone and the tear that slid down her fair cheek that Hannah-chan was longing for many things of her old life. Perhaps once she’d done as he required, he’d turn her over to the gaijin in Yokohama to be taken back to England where she belonged.

  “She died of illness?”

  The sigh she exhaled was an unusual one, containing hints of both sadness and disgust.

  “In a way, I suppose. Sickness brought on by her wanting the opium more than anything those last couple years.”

  Katsu paused and studied her in the pale moonlight. The British and the opium. They’d destroyed and conquered the Chinese with it and wanted to do the same here. Taking a deep breath to control the anger that threatened to boil within him, he turned and continued on.

  Stepping inside the bathhouse, Katsu waited until Hannah had entered behind him before he gestured for her to fill the two buckets with warm water from the larger cedar tub. He shrugged off his kimono and left it on the floor, then began to wash away the sweat and residue of sex with Masato. “Wash yourself,” he told Hannah, who lingered quietly beside him.

  She did, and Katsu was unable to keep his gaze from watching her well-rounded body in the dim light from the small lantern on the wall. Her pale skin flushed as she rubbed her arms and legs with the small rice hull filled sack. She took one of the cloth squares that he handed her and dipped it into the bucket, then looked away as she began to rub the cloth over her erect pink nipples then down between her legs.

  Katsu’s cock grew stiff even before he rubbed the cloth over it, his attention focused on the way Hannah-chan slid cloth-covered fingers into herself to clean away her own residue. He licked his lips, remembering her dusky taste and the soft, moist heat of her body gripping his fingers. Without warning, he reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, his mouth covering hers as his hand slid down her wet back to cup her firm, round rear and mold her body to his. She squirmed, her soft skin rubbing his cock against her lower belly and making it harder still.

  She responded to his kiss with abandon, boldly sliding her tongue against his and weaving her fingers up into his hair. When Katsu broke the kiss, he peered down at her and smiled at the rosy flush on her face and the quickness of the little pulse point at the base of her throat. But it was the look in her pretty eyes, her tigress like hunger that touched him, stirred his own body and propelled him to lead her over to the small bamboo bench. He sat and tugged her down, positioning his cock with a light touch so that she sank onto his shaft.

  Hannah-chan was so soft inside, so wet, her pulsing folds so snug that he had to close his eyes and savor the delight. To his surprise, she kissed him again and began to move, riding him with
a taunting slowness. She threw her head back and sucked in her breath when he lifted her heavy breasts and rubbed the calloused pads of his thumbs across her nipples before bending to suckle and nip at each one.

  She shuddered and whimpered when he slid his hand down to rub his thumb across her hard little bud. She rode him harder, crying out when his touch pushed her to her climax, and she collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, her breasts bobbing with the quickness of her breathing, her hot body coating his and throbbing around his cock that ached for its own release. As if she could read his mind, Hannah-chan moved to kneel before him, taking his cock quickly and deeply into her mouth.

  She licked her wetness from him with slow, teasing swipes of her tongue, her slim fingers stroking and fondling his balls and massaging the base of his cock. She pulled back, kissed his swollen cockhead, then teased the slit with the tip of her tongue before closing her lips around him and creating a soft sucking pressure as she pumped his length with her hand.

  Katsu tugged her hair and she looked up with alarm, but he smiled and caressed her cheek. “On your hands and knees.”

  Hannah pulled her discarded yukata over, then got on all fours as he instructed, hoping to hell that he didn’t go shoving his cock up her arse without the benefit of whatever he’d used with his friend. She closed her eyes as he knelt behind her and braced herself for the worst when he ran his fingers down between the mounds of flesh. But nothing happened. Nothing painful anyway.

  Hannah lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. Sanada-san made a motion for her to keep quiet. He took the clean yukata and obi from the hooks on the wall and tossed one of each her way, then quickly donned his, tying it closed low on his hips before retrieving the sword he’d brought with him from the house.