by India Millar
I squatted down in front of him and was about to reach for his tree when he put his hand around my wrist and stopped me. His gaze was fastened on my breasts, and he put his fingers out very hesitatingly, as if he was doing something very daring, and fastened his hand around my right breast, pulling me toward him. He suckled at my nipple as if he was a very, very hungry baby and then pulled back, breathing heavily.
But still he did not want me to touch him. I was puzzled. What did he want me to do? By this stage, most patrons were only too happy to tell us girls what they wanted, whether it be twirling the stem, splitting the melon, or simply matching the bird to the nest. But not Mori-san.
He asked me, quite hesitatingly, if I would stand up straight in front of him. I obliged, of course, and then simply stood, awaiting instruction. To say I was surprised by what happened next would be putting it mildly. Mori-san shuffled toward me on his knees. He dipped his head toward my black moss and parted my sex with his nose. It tickled, and I almost laughed. Then, when I was parted to his satisfaction, he rubbed his face inside my slit, up and down, up and down. All desire to laugh left me, and was suddenly replaced by growing desire, pure and simple. That in itself was surprising. Normally there was very little – if any – pleasure involved in pleasing a patron for us girls. In fact, since my evening with Danjuro, I had felt nothing but distaste for the men who paid to take me. To use me. Perhaps, then, it was the surprise that did it. In any event, before I could think about it, I reached down and grabbed his head, pushing his face as far as I could into me.
Mori-san immediately opened his mouth and started to seek the seed, licking and mouthing at me with his lips, using his teeth to nibble at me, but very gently. After a few minutes, I was dripping with longing. I groaned out loud and, apparently taking it as a signal, Mori-san slid his tongue up until he was licking my pearl.
I could take no more. Lust won out over all my careful training, and I pulled away, literally pushing Mori-san on to his back. He fell on the matting with a soft thud, and I had a momentary vision of his face, eyes wide and tongue protruding, before I slid down on to him, my legs on each side of his hips. I searched for his tree with my hand, and positioned myself carefully, poking his hood just inside the entrance to my sex. I wanted to tease him a little, but could not, all my self-restraint had gone.
Instead, I pistoned down on him, forcing as much of his tree inside me as I possibly could. Almost immediately, I realized that I was close to bursting my fruit already, and it took a huge effort of will to make myself slow down. I raised myself so high that he was in danger of popping out of me, and then lowered myself down again, bit by bit by bit. And, oh, so very slowly.
Mori-san reached for my breasts and I leaned forward so that he could clutch me and take both nipples in his mouth. His eyes were closed in intense pleasure, and I smiled. I allowed him to suckle at my nipples for a few moments and then resumed taking as much pleasure as I could extract from him. His tree was not quite as vigorous as some of the younger men who visited us, but it was enough. I squeezed him hard with my internal muscles, muscles that had been honed by the use of love globes.
A patron had given me a set once as a present, and the other girls had laughed at me when I said that I didn’t know what they were. In spite of the fact that the patron had leered at me when he handed them over, I was under the impression that they were some sort of jewelry, although how I was supposed to wear them, I had no idea.
The girls had taken them away from me, and little Masaki dangled them from her fingers.
“Lay down,” she instructed. I looked suspiciously from face to face, but did as I was told, curiosity blossoming. “Hitch up your robe, and open your legs. No,” she tutted, and the other girls giggled. “A lot wider than that. Pretend I’m a patron who wants to put his tree in you.”
I raised my head and frowned at her, and she grinned.
“Trust me. You will be happy with it. I promise.”
She weighed the balls in her hand. They were made of silver, each about the size of a large cherry and very heavy for their size. There was some sort of liquid inside one, and I could hear it sloshing about lazily. Each cherry was tied to the other with a length of what looked like plaited gold thread.
“Goodness me,” Masaki said seriously. “You must have pleased your patron greatly. These are very expensive ones.”
She leaned forward and I felt her cold little fingers probing at my black moss. I was about to ask what on earth she was doing when her whole fist shoved inside me, forcing me wide open. The other girls shouted with laughter. Obviously anticipating that I would wriggle about, or even try and get away, Kiku and Naruko grabbed my shoulders and shoved me back down on the matting.
Kiku laughed right in my indignant face. “Pretend we’re patrons, out for a good time!” she giggled.
I was too breathless from trying to get away to say anything. Masaki was still trying to keep my sex open and at the same time seemed to be pushing something into me. Something very cold and heavy. Although I still wriggled, it was hardly unpleasant. We in the Hidden House – and I strongly suspected elsewhere, both in the Floating World and outside it – were used to each other in the way that only women who live together constantly can be, and we were very aware of each other’s bodies. After all, it was by no means unknown for a patron to want to watch a couple of girls enjoying each other rather than taking them himself. Quite often, a patron would demand to see two girls seeking the seed for each other or we would be told to perform a little mutual dew mingling for him. We were always happy to oblige. After all, who but a woman knows how to really please another woman? It also had the advantage that more often than not, the patron would get so excited watching us that he would either burst his fruit on his own, without us so much as laying a finger on him, or at the most only a little twirling of the stem would be required to see him happy and satisfied.
When it came to two or more of us girls performing together for the enjoyment of a patron, naturally we never let it be obvious that we were enjoying ourselves by our own efforts. Oh, no. That would never do. The order of the day was to keep a straight face, to wince occasionally as if it was all distasteful in the extreme, and we were only doing it to enhance the happiness of the respected patron. The more we winced and disguised our groans of pleasure as mews of disgust, the more they loved it.
Strange things, men.
Anyway, there I was, flat on my back, legs spread wide, while Masaki fiddled about inside me.
“Keep still,” she scolded. I tried, but whatever she was doing tickled, and whatever she was putting inside me was very cold. “There. Done it.”
The girls let me go, and Masaki rubbed her palms together briskly. She was grinning widely.
“Go on, stand up.”
I looked at all of them suspiciously. They were all trying to hide huge grins. I stood up carefully, wondering what on earth Masaki had been up to. I got as far as a crouch, and then stopped as suddenly as if I had been turned to stone.
“Oh!” I gasped.
The girls erupted into laughter, literally hanging on to each other for support.
“Told you!” Kiku crowed. “Isn’t that nice?”
I moved slowly, feeling the love globes moving sluggishly inside me. The weights in the globes were slightly uneven, and with each movement they moved up and down, up and down. I was sure I could hear a faint click each time they moved. My mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“How long do I leave them in for?” I croaked.
“Long as you like.” Kiku laughed. “As long as you can stand it!”
It was no good; I started to laugh with them. And the more I laughed, the more the love orbs continued their subtle motion until I felt I was on the very verge of a constant orgasm, as though at any minute my fruit might burst and it would go on and on and on. It was a delicious sensation. I scrambled into my clothes, carefully. And still the love globes rocked to and fro, to and fro.
“They’re not j
ust for pleasure.” Masaki grinned. “Keep yourself nice and tight whenever you’re wearing them, and you’ll find that your muscles get stronger and stronger. After a while, you’ll be able to tense and flex and move them about even when you’re sitting perfectly still. If I were you, I would thank the patron who gave them to you very nicely the next time you see him.”
I did, too.
Anyway, I digress. To return to Mori-san. As I say, on that second occasion I more or less made him take me. Once I had his tree nicely inside me, he seemed content to let me set the pace, and so I did. I had never had a patron before who had been interested in anything at all except satisfying his own pleasure, and so Mori-san was a very pleasant change. He burst his fruit long before I was really ready, of course, and as soon as he was gone I grabbed for the consolation of my love globes. All of us girls used them like that. Few of the patrons ever came near to satisfying us, but often left us in a state of such arousal that it was the love globes or scream. On occasions like that, Naruko and Masaki often took pleasure in each other, as they were particularly fond of each other’s company. Often, if one was wandering about the Hidden House at night – and there was always somebody moving during the night to answer a call of nature or to see a patron off the premises – it was noticeable that either Masaki’s or Noruka’s screen door was left ajar, and when this happened we knew that they were seeking comfort and satisfaction in each other’s arms. We made a point of keeping it hidden from Auntie, as she would not have been pleased. Not, you understand, that she would have thought it immoral in any way, rather because strong friendships between the girls were discouraged. Auntie was of the opinion that it distracted the girls’ minds from their true duties, and it was always difficult if one girl was bought out by a danna and left the House, leaving her friend behind.
I was worried that Mori-san had not appreciated my aggression. We were supposed to be supremely compliant, always alert to our patron’s needs, to the total disregard of our own. I had to admit, I had actually used Mori-san far more than he had used me. And it was Mori-san who was paying the bill! But I had no need to worry. He came back the following week, and again the week after. On both occasions, he ordered food for us both, even asking what I liked. When seaweed, sliced lotus root with ginger, ramen noodles, and thinly sliced fish cooked with mushrooms and vegetables appeared on the matting on his fourth visit, I was astonished. Every single one of my favorites! He even fed the food to me. I could hardly believe it. Once the maids had left the room, Mori-san took up his chopsticks and selected a morsel of fish. I was about to reach for my own chopsticks when instead of eating himself, he leaned over and presented the fish to my lips. And he did that every time! Before he ate anything himself, he fed me first. He even poured sake for me before filling his own cup. I tried to protest that I should be serving him, but he would have none of it.
I should, I suppose, have enjoyed the attention, but instead it made me uncomfortable. Delicious as the food was – and the Hidden House shared its kitchen with the Green Tea House, a kitchen that was famous throughout the Floating World – I would have been much happier had our roles been reversed and I had fed him before taking so much as a mouthful for myself. That was traditional behavior for any geisha. This was unheard of. But what could I do? Mori-san was the patron, he was paying.
Once the food was cleared away, it got worse. Mori-san invariably sat back on the bedding that had been spread on the mats and smiled at me. He clapped his hands softly and then – I have never told anybody this before, because if I did, they would not believe me – asked me what I wanted him to do to please me. The first time it happened, I thought I had simply misheard him, and naturally asked him what he would like.
He shook his head. “No, no, Midori-chan. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give pleasure to you. Please, tell me what you would like me to do. Anything at all.”
Even as he spoke, I could see that his tree of flesh was wagging at me through his robe. He was beginning to breathe heavily and his face was red. He was on his knees already, but now he put his hands together in the prayer position and bent his head almost to the floor in an attitude of abject submission.
I had kneeled in front of a man so many times in exactly the same way. Suddenly I saw my own helpless obedience mirrored in his gesture, and I trembled with fury. It was not fair, of course, to take my anger out on this nice man, but that is exactly what I did. I simply could not help myself.
“Sit up,” I snapped. He did so, his expression as eager as a spaniel, waiting to please. “Touch yourself. Touch your tree. Pretend it’s me that’s doing it.”
I could hardly believe it when he immediately grasped his erection in his fingers and began to rub it up and down quickly. And a real mess of it he made, too. I could see that his grip was far too tight, and he was moving too rapidly. At this rate, he would achieve bursting of the fruit in no time at all.
“I would never do it like that. Stop it,” I jeered. He stopped immediately and looked at me humbly. “Put your hand fully around your stem. Move your hand slowly. No, not as tightly as that. Slower. That’s better.”
I watched him for a while. His face was sweating and he was beginning to pant. I was becoming excited myself, watching him. Was this, I wondered, what the patrons found so exciting when they asked us girls to touch ourselves in front of them? I had often wondered why they seemed to like it so much. Now I knew.
“Stop,” I snapped. “Take your hand away and come here.”
Mori-san released his grip at once and shuffled across to me on his knees. I held my hand up to signal him to stop just before his face was close enough to touch me. Even so, I could feel his breath on my black moss. I had taken very little sake, but I still felt drunk. Perhaps for the first time I was drunk with power! I decided I would carry on pushing this strangest of patrons until he protested. At that point, of course, I would cast myself at his feet and humbly beg his pardon. But in the meantime, it was such fun!
I swayed toward him, brushing my black moss against his nose. Mori-san moaned. Hardly able to contain my own excitement, I moved forward again, but this time, I did not withdraw. Very slowly, very deliberately, I leaned against him until his lips were buried in my black moss.
I do not remember telling him to do anything, although so great was my need by this time that I may have barked some instruction to him. In any event, Mori-san did not hesitate. He buried his whole face in my black moss and I bent backward, opening my sex to him like a flower. His lips slid up and down my sex, making me moan out loud. His tongue flicked in and out of me like a snake, wet and warm.
“Up!” I hissed. “Up!”
Mori-san obeyed instantly, moving his head up so that his tongue could caress my seed. My tender bud felt as if it was on fire, and the touch of the tip of his tongue was like the softest touch of fine silk. Gentle as it was, it ignited my fire and I felt the waves of pleasure beginning to radiate from my belly down to my sex. I shouted out loud, and in response Mori-san bit down on my pearl - not hard, but sufficient to nip.
I exploded. When the fireworks had faded from my vision and I could draw breath again, I looked down at Mori-san. His face was shiny with my juices, and his expression glazed. He was breathing so hard, it was as if he had just run a race.
I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and he instantly threw himself at my feet, covering my toes with kisses. I was so dazed, so full of satisfied pleasure, that I could do nothing.
Mori-san sat up eventually. His tree, I saw, was still rearing and in spite of my sudden languor, I took pity on him. Gesturing to him to sit up, I took his tree in my hand and rubbed it up and down, up and down. It took no time at all, I was pleased to see.
That night, Mori-san curled up beside me on the futon and only left at dawn. I would have loved to have asked the other girls if anything similar had ever happened to them, but I didn’t dare, in case they accused me of making it up.
In any event, Mori-san’s incre
dible behavior and what followed was one of the reasons why I remember that particular day so well. The other reason was Danjuro.
Once Mori-san had left, and I had had my bath, Auntie sent for me.
Being summoned by Auntie was always an occasion for concern, and I sped to her as quickly as I could. Auntie was sitting on the raised platform in the room she used as a sitting room in her suite. Her knees hurt her greatly, and she found it impossible to sit on the floor like the rest of us. In later years, when the foreign Barbarians made the fashion for high furniture all the craze, Auntie immediately bought a chair and a Western-style bed and was much more comfortable. I could never get used to them.
I bowed deeply and waited. Had Mori-san complained about me after all, I wondered? And what on earth could I say if he had? By the time Auntie spoke, I was trembling with fear.
“Midori No Me.” Bad! My whole name, not just Midori. My stomach churned.
“Auntie, you sent for me?” Stupid! Of course Auntie had sent for me. Why would I have been here otherwise?
Auntie leaned forward and rested her chin on the handle of her stick. She puckered her mouth and stared at me.
“Midori No Me. I had a visit from Mori-san this morning. As soon as he left you, he came to see me. He took tea with me.”
I swallowed, with difficulty. I felt as if a hastily swallowed piece of meat was lodged in my throat. This was it, then. I had overstepped the mark with Mori-san. He had complained to Auntie. No use in telling her I had only done what my patron had asked of me. If he had complained about me, he was in the right. That was the way of it. Was my disobedience so bad it would merit a visit from Big, or Bigger? Or – and my vision began to cloud at the thought – both of them? Not quite a death sentence if it was one, but both…
“What, exactly, did you do to him, Midori No Me?”
