Page 90 of Kotori
She is mine now. Utterly, completely, irrevocably mine. The careful conditioning has paid off perfectly. She will kneel beforeme tonight not because I'm forcing her, but because she genuinely believes this is what she wants. What she was meant for.
The masterpiece is complete. Now I get to enjoy it.
I move to the low table where Hayashi has arranged tea service. Two cups, though only one will be used. She has moved beyond the privilege of sharing refreshments as an equal, and accepts this hierarchy as natural now.
Perfect conditioning.
My phone displays the security feed from the corridor leading to my chambers. Empty still, but she will appear soon. The commands I gave her after claiming her final surrender were clear: clean yourself, then come serve me properly. No timeline specified, but she understands that keeping me waiting would displease me.
And displeasing me is something she can no longer bear. Exactly as I designed.
The memory of her complete surrender in the training grounds makes my blood heat despite having taken my satisfaction barely an hour ago. The way she'd crawled to me on hands and knees, all pretense of independence finally stripped away. How she'd begged with broken pleas that revealed exactly what I'd successfully made her become.
Watashi wa Kaito-sama no mono desu.
Her voice speaking those words in careful Japanese pronunciation echoes in my mind like a victory cry. Perfect submission wrapped in foreign tongue that I taught her to speak. Every syllable an acknowledgment that her body, her pleasure, her very existence now serves my will.
Movement on the security monitor catches my attention. A flash of white fabric at the far end of the corridor. She's chosen to wear the cotton yukata I left for her, the simple garment thatmarks her transition from independent woman to my willing concubine.
Excellent. She's learning without instruction that symbols matter, that every choice must now reflect her new position in my household. Soon, every choice will be made for her entirely.
I watch her approach through the camera feed with the patience of a man who has already won every battle that matters. Her steps are slower than usual, evidence of how thoroughly I claimed her on the hard dojo floor. The slight catch in her movement speaks of intimate soreness, physical reminders of what belonging to me means. But there's no hesitation in her approach. No pause at decision points where she might flee. She walks toward my chambers with the steady determination of someone who has finally accepted their true nature.
Or believes she has. What she's accepted tonight is nothing compared to what I have planned.
Kotori. My beautiful little bird, flying willingly into the cage I've constructed around her entire existence.
The security feed shows her stopping outside my door, one pale hand rising to check her appearance in the hallway mirror. Even through the electronic surveillance, I can see her hands trembling. Anticipation. Need. The desperate craving of someone who has discovered exactly what their body was designed for and can no longer imagine existing without it.
She has no idea what her body will be designed for next.
Her hand hovers over the door for exactly three heartbeats before she finds the courage to knock.
A soft sound echoes through my chambers, perfectly timed and appropriately respectful.
"Enter."
The door slides open with the whisper of well-oiled wood, and she steps into my private domain. Her blonde hair falls loose around her shoulders, catching the lamplight like gold, and herblue eyes find mine immediately with a mixture of submission and desperate need that sends dark satisfaction coursing through my chest.
Perfect. She's exactly where I want her—physically, psychologically, emotionally dependent on my approval for everything from her next breath to her next orgasm.
But it's the marks that truly please me. The careful way she moves speaks of intimate soreness from our claiming. Most beautiful of all is the flush that spreads down her throat—evidence of arousal that hasn't faded despite what we shared in the training grounds.
She wants more. Her body craves what I gave her, what only I can provide. What only I will ever be allowed to provide.
"Close the door behind you," I command quietly, not rising from my position.
She complies immediately, sealing us into the intimate space where no rules exist except those I create. The soft sound of wood meeting frame seems to echo with finality, and I watch her shoulders tense as she realizes we're completely alone.
Alone with the man who owns her completely, though she still believes ownership has limits.
"Come here, kotori."
She approaches with careful steps, and I can see how the simple movement affects her—thighs pressed together slightly, breathing careful and controlled. Her body remembers every moment of being filled, claimed, marked from the inside out.
Soon, it will remember being marked permanently.
When she stops before me, just out of arm's reach, I let the silence stretch while I study my prize.
