Page 70 of Kotori
"Ii, yo," I reward her surrender, increasing the pressure, the rhythm, my fingers relentless as I watch her face—defiance melting into raw, desperate pleasure. "Now come for me. Show me who owns every shudder, every pulse of your body."
Her release crashes over her like a storm breaking, three weeks of pent-up need erupting in a visceral, overwhelming wave. Her cry of my name is sharp, almost pained, as her body arches off the bed, straining against the silken ropes binding her wrists.
The intensity overtakes her as a hot, gushing rush of pleasure soaks my hand, the sheets, her thighs trembling as the evidence of her surrender spills freely, uncontainable. I don’t relent, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until she’s a quivering mess, collapsing against the pillows, utterly spent, her breaths ragged and broken.
As she comes down from the peak, her eyes flutter open, finding mine with a hunger that hasn't been sated. If anything, her first release after three weeks of denial has only awakened a deeper need.
"Please," she whispers, the word falling from her lips before she can stop it. "Don't leave. Not yet."
I raise an eyebrow, savoring her desperation. "Something else you want, kotori?"
Her cheeks flush with humiliation, but need overwhelms pride. "I want... I need..."
"Say it clearly." My voice leaves no room for ambiguity. "If you want something, you must ask for it properly."
She swallows hard, the internal battle visible in her eyes before surrender wins. "Please, Kaito-sama. I need you inside me. It's been three weeks, and I can't. I need more than just—"
"How interesting." I trace one finger along her jawline, feeling her tremble beneath my touch. "The teacher who told me she wasn't mine is now begging to be taken. How quickly things change."
Her eyes flash with momentary defiance. "It's just physical. It doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?" I tighten the rope around her wrists, reminding her of her position. "Your body knows the truth your mind still refuses to accept."
I stand, looking down at her bound form—flushed with need, wrists secured to the headboard, completely at my mercy. The perfect image of surrender in progress.
Instead of untying her as she expects, I loosen my yukata, letting it fall open to reveal my hardened length. Her eyes widen, lips parting slightly in unconscious invitation.
"You want more?" I move closer, standing at the head of the bed where she can see exactly what awaits her. "Then earn it."
Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by a flash of indignation quickly overwhelmed by naked desire. The war in her expression is exquisite—pride versus need, independence versus surrender.
Need wins.
She squirms against the ropes, dragging herself up as far as they’ll let her, her lips parting for me like she’s starving. Her hands are tied tight above her head, forcing her neck to crane at a brutal angle—a little gift to remind her who’s calling the shots.
“Fuck, that’s it, Kotori,” I growl, voice thick with lust as she takes me into her hot, greedy mouth. “Show me how bad you’re aching for what only your Kaito-sama can give.”
Her mouth’s a furnace, swallowing me deep, no hesitation, no shame. All that defiance she strutted in with? Gone. Her body’s screaming need, her tongue working like she’s been dreaming of this for weeks. The sight of her bound, desperate, worshipping me with every slick slide sets my blood on fire. This proud little teacher, broken down to my perfect toy.
I tangle my fingers in her hair, rough, possessive, not guiding but owning. “You’ve been craving this, haven’t you? Those three weeks, tossing in your bed, soaked and aching, knowing only I could fucking fix it.”
Her moan hums around my cock, a jolt that makes my grip tighten, yanking her hair just enough to sting. I take over, thrusting slow, deep, making her feel every inch of who owns her. “This is you, Kotori. Not some free-spirited gaijin playing tough. You’re mine—my slut to break, to fuck, to mold into whatever I damn well please.”
Her eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the truth, her mouth sloppy and eager, chasing my approval. The shift from her stubborn pride to this raw, filthy devotion? It’s a drug, and I’m hooked.
“Eyes on me,” I snarl, needing to see her break. Those blue eyes, glazed with lust and submission, lock onto mine, and I’m fucking done for. “That’s it, my good little bitch. Take it all.”
The heat’s a tidal wave, and I rip myself free, gripping her hair to hold her still. My release hits like a goddamn explosion, thick ropes of cum splashing across her face—her lips, her cheeks, dripping down her chin. She gasps, a needy whimper escaping as the hot mess marks her, her bound body trembling under the weight of my claim. She’s a fucking vision, painted with my desire, every drop screaming she’s mine.
She looks up at me, lips swollen, eyes dazed, somehow even more beautiful in her complete surrender. "Please," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "I still need you. Inside me."
I trace my thumb across her lower lip, feeling her shudder at the touch. "Tomorrow," I promise, my voice rough with satisfaction. "At the festival. If you prove your complete surrender, I'll give you everything you're begging for now."
I adjust my yukata, covering myself despite her look of dismay. I check the shibari harness one last time, ensuring it's secure but not dangerous. The ropes will hold her in this position of beautiful helplessness until morning—a constant reminder of who controls her pleasure, her comfort, her very existence in this house.
"You're leaving me tied up?" The disbelief in her voice is mixed with a hint of fear and unmistakable arousal. "All night?"
"Consider it meditation on your place in this household." I move toward the door, satisfaction coursing through me at her beautiful predicament. "The ropes will remind your body of its true owner with every breath, every movement, every moment until dawn."
