by India Millar
I was breathless with fear as I was manhandled into the house, with Taneka behind me moaning endlessly in terror.
Once inside, our captors melted away. One moment they were all around us, the next we were alone. It was cool and shaded inside, and I began to shiver with cold as well as fear.
“Welcome to my home, Midori No Me.”
The voice came from the shadows. I turned around and at first could see nothing, nobody. He was standing so still, I couldn’t make him out until he moved.
Akira-san, with his grey eyes, mustache, and swagger. Akira-san had taken me. The gods knew what he wanted me for, why he had bothered to kidnap me, but my fear ebbed a little. At least I knew him. At least it wasn’t Big.
Taneka was bowing deeply to him, and I managed an unconvincing little bob. He laughed out loud.
“Ah, Midori No Me! Now I know that the wait will be worthwhile. Child,” he nodded at Taneka and gestured toward a door behind him. “Go to the kitchen. They will feed you and give you something to drink. Don’t be afraid, nobody will harm you here.”
Taneka scuttled off as fast as her little legs could take her. I didn’t blame her. Mineko, I knew, would have stood her ground at my side, but Mineko was not here.
“And me, Akira-san? Is any harm going to come to me?”
He was grinning. Everything I said seemed to amuse him. Anger slowly began to get the better of fear and I stared back at him defiantly as he walked around me, inspecting me from top to toe.
“Do you have only the one kimono? You never seem to wear anything else.”
“I have dozens of them. I just happen to like this one,” I lied.
“I will give you another dozen.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want anything at all from you. Except to let me go.”
He was laughing at me. “I will let you go in my own good time.”
I glared at him. I desperately wanted to pee. The sake I had drunk with Mori-san and fear combined in my poor bladder. His grin widened and I had a horrible suspicion that he saw my discomfort. “Auntie will search for me when I don’t return,” I said with the faint hope it was true. “She can be a troublesome woman. You will not be happy if Auntie is angry with you.”
Pathetic, I thought. Here I was threatening a powerful yakuza with an old woman. It was partially true. Auntie was a great force in the Floating World. Greater men than this gangster had been cowed by her. But Akira-san was still grinning.
“Ah, but Auntie knows where you are. Or at least, she knows that you are with me. I sent her a message as soon as Mori-san was well clear. Don’t worry about your patron. He really does have an important client willing and able to buy his gold. And by now, Auntie will be counting her fee and her blessings.”
I clenched my teeth. Very well. If there was to be no escape for me, then Akira-san would be treated with exactly the same courtesy that I would offer to any other patron. See how much he liked that. With exquisite grace, I sank to my knees and bowed my head.
“I am at your feet, danna.” I murmured.
He had stopped behind me. I could feel his stare, hot on the nape of my neck. I yelped with surprise as a cold, rough finger slid down my neck from my hairline to the collar of my kimono.
“You have a beautiful neck. Very long. Very slender.”
And I just know that you would like to put your hands around it and squeeze until I screamed, I thought. I forced myself to remain motionless as that finger ran up and down my spine.
“But first things first.” Akira-san sounded business-like. “You will take a bath. Then you will see.” He clapped his hands and one of his thugs appeared immediately. Akira-san rapped instructions to him. I was to be taken to the bathhouse and shown every courtesy. The final command made me shiver. How would I have been treated otherwise?
The bathhouse was luxurious. Not as big as at the one at in the Hidden House, but bright, well appointed, and beautifully clean. A couple of little maids bowed me in and at my urgent request hurried to show me the lavatory. An indoor lavatory! Akira-san did himself well, to be sure. When I emerged, I was soaped and rinsed and allowed to wallow in the hot water. I lingered as long as I dared, but when the anxious faces of the maids began to hover over the edge of the bath, I climbed out with a regretful sigh.
They wrapped me in a drying robe and then a loose, thick silk robe in shades of the softest green and cream. There was no sign of my own kimono. I thrust my feet into the offered geti and followed yet another maid back into the house.
It was even larger than it appeared from the outside. Sparsely furnished in the traditional style, but even my inexperienced eyes could see that every single piece had been chosen for its beauty and harmony. And was expensive. I was finally shown into a reception room and I eyed the thick futons and bedding laid on the floor with something very like relief. If that was all Akira-san wanted, why on earth had he gone to all the drama of abducting me off the street? Unless, of course, it was simply to support his flamboyant reputation. Or to frighten me half to death, which seemed equally probable.
I made myself comfortable on the futon and waited. And waited. The afternoon had become warm, and I was drowsy from my bath. I could lay down for just a while, I thought. I could never sleep, of course. But the futons were thick and soft and inviting, and I sank into their comfort. I had barely closed my eyes, or so I thought, when I was awakened from sleep by the sound of the screen door opening and closing.
The afternoon had progressed. The shadows on the tatami were longer. Instinct made me keep my eyes almost closed, pretending I was still sleeping. I breathed slowly and evenly, relaxing my muscles. Even with my eyes barely open, I could sense Akira-san moving around. Hear his breath on the still air.
“Midori No Me.” He spoke very softly and I knew that he did not believe that I was asleep. Perhaps I was not as good an actor as I thought. I opened my eyes.
Akira-san stood at the bottom of the futons. His shadow fell across the bed, and it felt warm. I stared at him, wordless with wonder. His clothes lay where he had discarded them on the tatami. My gaze ran up and down his body, wonderingly.
Every inch of skin, every part of his body from the base of his neck to his ankles and wrists was covered in tattoos. As soon as he was sure I was looking, he held out his arms from his body and turned very slowly. The tattoos looked like living things. There was no particular theme to them, no color scheme that I could see. Blossoms bloomed alongside exotic birds. A tiger stalked his belly, nuzzling between his breasts. A long snake ran down each leg to his knees. His lower legs were covered in swirling symbols, all color and curves. His arms bore more symbols. As he turned, on his back I saw a dog-fox, the eyes gleaming, the teeth bared. The bottom of his neck was tattooed with a collar, artfully executed to look like an intricate necklace. His ribs were decorated with larger-than-life-sized eyes, in all shapes and colors. I would have sworn that they were poised to wink at me. As he turned, the tattoos seemed to move with him, flowing into each other like the living works of art that they truly were.
Even his penis, his proud, jutting tree, was tattooed from the base to the very tip. Trailing vines with just-opening white blossoms covered the length while the glans bore a depiction of a pair of women’s hands cupping the flesh. The work was so well executed that it actually looked as if the fingernails were denting slightly, nipping his skin.
I gasped out loud. Naked, Akira was very, very beautiful.
The last remnants of fear drained away and were replaced by gnawing desire. At the sight of the work of art that was his body, I forgot that he had insulted me. That I hated him. Even that Danjuro had warned me that I must stay away from him, that he was dangerous. Or perhaps it was just a combination of all those things.
I wanted him. Wanted to feel the heat from those tattoos – for surely, the colors had to be hot – rubbing against my skin. Wanted, above all, to feel the roughness of those blossoms on his erection as they opened themselves inside me. I shook the bedclothes asid
e and kneeled. Bowing my head on the futons, for once I meant it.
Akira moved toward me and bent down. He put his hands on each side of my head and licked the nape of my neck with a dry tongue. I hissed with pleasure.
“I shall put my mark on you, Midori No Me,” he said. I was delighted to hear his voice was shaking slightly. “Not today, but soon. Now, look at me.”
I raised my head. Moving without any command from me, my hand raised itself and ran my fingers down his belly, wrapping my fingers around his testicles. Even these had been decorated with concentric wavy lines. They tightened at my touch, and the lines parted, giving the illusion of a life of their own. Almost like ripples on water.
He took a deep breath. “I honor you with my body. No other woman has ever seen the whole of me. Does it please you, Kazuha-chan?” He had called me Kazuha – “Soft Leaf.” A pun on the color of my eyes, but said tenderly. I was almost moved to tears. In the whole of my life, I had never had an affectionate name. I had always just been Green or Green Eyes. Even Danjuro had never given me a love name. I pushed the thought of Danjuro away determinedly. He had no place here.
“It pleases me greatly.”
“Show me how it pleases you, Kazuha.”
I shuffled forward the few inches that separated us and took his tree of flesh in my mouth. I had expected roughness from the tattoos, but there was none. His flesh was silken and very faintly perfumed. It excited me.
I ran my tongue around the bulbous head of his tree, forcing the hood back with my teeth. Akira stayed still, giving no sign that I was either pleasing or displeasing him. Slowly, I pushed him into my mouth until the tip of his erection was pushing against the back of my throat. Then, and only then, did I suck. Not just with my lips, but with the whole of my mouth and my throat. Then, I heard him give a groan of pleasure.
I allowed his flesh to slip slowly out of my mouth and my lips felt cold when it had gone. His erection was silver with my saliva, summer rain on the blossoms. I ran my gaze up his body to his face and simply waited. Whatever this strange man wanted from me, I would give. Whatever he wanted to give to me, I would take. Instinctively I knew I had no option. He radiated power. I was a prisoner in his house, at his command. And hadn’t I been taught every day of my life that I had to obey? Only this time, obedience would be …easy. His whole aura demanded obedience. I felt like a well-trained dog, taking pleasure in following its master’s word. Akira leaned down and ran his finger down from my between my breasts to my stomach. My robe parted beneath his touch. I shrugged the garment away from me and kneeled naked before him, the heavy silk pooling around my thighs.
For what felt like an hour, but was probably no more than a few seconds, he simply looked at me. Even his glance burned me. I bowed my head, looking at him from beneath my eyelashes.
“Lie down. No, on your stomach.”
I did as I was told. For once from choice rather than necessity.
He kneeled behind me and pushed his hand beneath my sex. His nails were long and scratched slightly when they entered me. I shuddered with pleasure at his touch. All of his fingers rubbed me, and I lifted my bottom in instinctive response. He laughed.
“Like a cat when you tickle its spine,” he whispered. His hand slid round from my sex to my anus, and a single finger slid inside. I tensed for a moment and then cried out in pain as the rest of his fingers followed.
“Shush,” he whispered. “I am not hurting you. Not yet, Kazuha. Not yet.”
I bit my tongue and felt the hot, coppery taste of blood. I would not cry out, no matter what he did. I would not.
His fingers slid out as surely as they had entered. I felt him pause, and then his erection was nuzzling the entrance to my anus. I couldn’t help it. I was so desperate for him inside me, no matter where, that I pushed against him, forcing him into me.
He was a big, muscular man. His erection was not as obscenely freakish as Big, and certainly not as deformed as Bigger’s, but Akira was still handsomely blessed by the gods. I gasped as he slid into me. Any woman would have.
Very quickly, I remembered his remark that he was not hurting me – yet. As he thrust, trying to get more and more of himself into me, I felt as if I was being skinned from the inside out. Oh, he was not the first to want to split the melon with me, but generally the patrons who were interested in it were older men, ones who wanted to believe that there was some wickedness in doing it that way. But Akira was not an old man. He was young and vigorous and his tree of flesh was, quite literally, in full blossom.
“Tell me to stop, Kazuha,” he hissed. He caught the nape of my neck in his teeth and bit. Hard. He turned the flesh in his teeth. I howled with pleasure, a bitch in heat that has enticed her mate and was being fully satisfied.
“No!” I shouted. “No, don’t stop. Please.”
I heard him laughing, his voice hoarse and deep.
Harder. Harder. And harder still. Every thrust, every plunge was an exquisite pain. A delicious hurt. I thought I wanted him to go on forever, and then I felt my orgasm beginning to grow and spread deep in my sex. It was as if Akira could read my body as if it was his own. He began to slow down, to take himself further out and then to shove in not quite as far. I almost wept with need.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please.”
He snickered, not quite a laugh, rather a sound from deep in his throat. “If I give you what you want, how will you repay me?”
I shook my head helplessly. I would offer him anything. But what did I have to offer that this rich, powerful yakuza did not either already have or could easily get?
“Anything. Anything. Anything you want.”
“Remember that when the time comes, Kazuha.”
He began to increase his pace, shoving at me so hard that I nearly fell onto the mat. I spread my knees for balance and discovered that the action meant I could grip him that much harder. The pain became fire, fire and ice together, and finally my body could take no more and I exploded in orgasm, screaming out loud with pleasure as the waves of my fruit bursting tore through me. Akira seemed to absorb some of my excitement, as I heard him begin to grunt deep in his throat. The animal sound was intensely exciting and raised me to a peak that left me shuddering.
Finally, he slowed and stopped, slipping out of me. I collapsed on the futon and Akira-san slid down to lie beside me. I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and took his flaccid penis in my hand, rubbing the sticky residue from it with my finger and thumb. It must have been very tender, as Akira groaned and put his own hand on mine to stop me.
Every time I moved so much as an inch, I felt as if I had been torn in two, but the sensation was still a delicious reminder of what this man had done to me.
“You will bathe and then go back to the Hidden House, Kazuha. You will become Midori No Me again, until the next time I send for you.”
I sighed and ran my fingers down his chest. Why had I ever thought him ugly? A sudden thought made me sit up straight, suspicion tingling in my spine. How had I come to forget? Danjuro had said that that Akira was only interested in me as a way of destroying him. Was that really true? And if it was, how had I come to take such pleasure in this man? In any event, the thought of Danjuro cast a cloud over my pleasure. How had I allowed myself to be taken with such pleasure by any man but my lover?
“What? Are you cold?” He sounded concerned, but now I didn’t believe anything he said. I shrugged, trying to appear casual.
“No, I am not cold. But,” I paused, tracing my finger nail on the bedding, not looking at him. “But I don’t understand, Akira-san. When you came to the Hidden House, you didn’t so much as look at me. You were rude to me. And now you drag me off the streets and bring me here to take me. Why?”
He laughed at me. “I knew as soon as I saw you in the street that you were mine, Kazuha. You were beautiful and you looked at me so angrily, refusing to bow down to me. No woman has ever treated me like that. Any woman I want comes to me at a run. I was intrigued. So I aske
d around about little Midori No Me from the Hidden House. You were on the way to the kabuki, weren’t you?”
I nodded. This was it, then. Was he going to lie? And if he didn’t lie, would I like what he was about to say?
“I’ve been told that Danjuro is your danna. That you belong to him. Is that so?”
I considered my reply carefully. I was deeply uncomfortable discussing Danjuro with him. As my lust began to cool, more and more was I regretting pleasuring myself with this man. It was no good telling myself that I had had no option – that was only half the truth. A few minutes ago I would have crawled over broken glass to get to him. That was the truth.
Oh, Danjuro. I have betrayed you. I am so sorry.
“Danjuro is one of my patrons,” I said. “He does not own me.”
He remained quiet, turning my words over in his mind. Eventually he nodded, appearing satisfied. “Danjuro stood in my way when I wanted to buy the kabuki,” he said finally. “If I can cause him hurt, then I will. But that is not the reason I wanted you, little Kazuha. I was determined to take you before I knew you had anything to do with Danjuro. Will you tell him you have been with me, here, in my house?” he asked curiously. I thought about lying, but what was the point? He would hear it in my voice.
“No,” I said simply. “It would hurt him if he knew, and I am not part of your quarrel.”
I was deeply relieved that my answer seemed to satisfy him.
Taneka walked back with me in the darkness to the Hidden House. Akira had allocated one of his men to walk back with me, and I was relieved. I had no idea how to find my way back, and to me Edo was more frightening than the Floating World.
It was very late, and the gate around the Floating World had been closed and barred before we got there. I heard the clink of coins being exchanged, and then the guard – an old samurai run to fat – was bowing us inside.
As Akira had said, he had obviously gotten word to Auntie that I would be late, as there was a light still burning in the entrance hall to the Hidden House. The door was locked, but when I tapped a maid quickly opened it.
