Once outside, the black Audi was waiting for you, reflecting the streetlights like an inanimate jewel. The tailgate opened. You looked at the dashboard, and what had happened earlier came back to you. With a deep breath, you climbed in, your heels digging into the carpet. Nanami climbed in after you, closed the door, and banged on the partition.
"Go straight to my house. No stops."
Ijichi agreed. The smoked glass slowly rose, sealing the inside world from the outside. Silence. The electric motor hummed.
Nanami turned toward you, his pupils glowing with a burning fire. You let his gaze slide down to your feet, again, still clad in pumps, but delicate toes protruding.
"Take your shoes off. Place your feet side by side on my cock."
You obeyed, freeing your feet. The shoe fell with a thud. "Good. Now bend your knees and come closer."
With one hand, he lowered the LED lights above your heads, creating a micro-darkness. With the other, he lowered his zipper. His cock emerged erect, dark purple at the root, shiny at the tip.
"Come on top. Not with your hands, but with your feet."
You couldn't breathe. You bent your knees to your chest, your skirt gathering on your thighs. With the precision of a tightrope walker, you positioned your feet, right and left, on either side of his cock, creating a track. Then slowly, you brought them together until his cock was squeezed between the two arches. With an alternating motion, similar to squeezing a lemon, you pressed the tops of your feet, then the soles, then the backs. Nanami inhaled through his nose, his eyes half closed.
"Yes, exactly, I feel the smooth skin, the tendon rubbing my tip…" His hands grabbed your wrists. "Don't use your fingers, just continue with the alternating motion."
Sweat began to act as a lubricant. His cock slid between your feet, hot and hard, as you varied the pressure, alternating it with micro-vibrations from your toe to your heel. His breathing rose, growing rougher. Now it was his pleasure that turned the wheel, but the feeling of ownership remained yours: you were the one holding the lever. The two balances clashed, doubling, bouncing. Nanami, gripped by a knot of excitement, grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling you toward him for a kiss. Your tongues collided, and his saliva was the only thought in your head at that moment.
The climax was approaching for both of you. You quickened your right foot, then slowed it down, varying the pressure just under the glans. Nanami suddenly stiffened.
"Stop…I don't want to cum now."
His tone was serious and firm. You paused, a shiver of pent-up desire. Nanami, still holding your wrists, leaned forward and whispered in your ear what he would do as soon as you got home.
"I'll tie your wrists behind your back with the silk belt, throw you on the bed face down, and fuck your asshole until your cries make my balls drip."
His fingers traced the outline of your earlobe, then ended at the edge of your mouth.
"But not now. Now I want you to enjoy the chaos."
With swift skill, he slipped his cock back under his pants and zipper. Then he settled down next to you.
"Put your legs down. Close your mouth and lean against my chest."
You let yourself be led. With your head resting on his chest, you heard the constant thump of his heart. The city lights began to fade in the window. The car entered a tunnel, the darkness serving as a confessional. No one spoke again. IIjichi never looked up in the mirror. He understood: he simply had to take you home, let the rest happen.
When the glow resurfaced, you felt yourself rising to the surface. Nanami's heart beat beneath your ear, like a clock. The car slowed, turned, then entered a wrought-iron gate. It passed through a sliding gate, stopping in an internal courtyard paved with sandstone. The headlights went out. A polished stone staircase rose from the ancient building, illuminated by brass handles. Nanami slid his jacket into the inside pocket and pulled out his keys.
Outside, Ijichi was waiting for you by the window. Nanami rolled down the window, filling the entire cabin with humid air.
"Thank you, Ijichi. You can take the car to the garage for the night. It's no longer needed."
His tone was calm. The driver nodded, his hands still in front of him.
"Good night, sir. Miss."
His gaze met yours: two seconds of fire, as if his orgasm from a few minutes earlier was still there between you, trembling in the air. Then the man turned and disappeared behind the pillar.
Nanami took a deep breath and offered you his arm.
"Come. I'll open the door."
You placed your hand on his forearm, feeling the distant hum of the city. Your bones were tired, but alive: you felt a desire, a fear, an attraction that knew no end. With your first step on the stone, you left the Audi and the night behind. The door closed behind you. The metal latch clicked, and inside that ancient building, between thick walls and luxurious staircases, anything could have happened. You felt strange, but you knew you wanted everything you were seeing, no matter the cost.
As you were climbing, Nanami caressed your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Be careful not to fall; I'll need your knees healthy."
You nodded, squeezing his arm. Your heartbeat was pounding in your chest, but the fear you felt was mingling with curiosity. The apartment door swung open onto a blue-walled hallway, the ambient spotlights creating voluptuous shadows. The scent of cedar and carnations filled the air. Nanami removed your jacket from your shoulders with the slowness of someone who knows every ounce of tension in the moment.
"Welcome to my world." He told you, "It's my home, but from tonight, in a way, it will be your home too. You'll have your own room, your own music, your own desk if you want to write. In exchange, you'll obey my schedule."
You swallowed. The warm glow of the light softened your skin, but a vein throbbed under your left eye like a tiny, trapped insect.
"Understood," you replied in a small voice.
Nanami placed his hands on your chest, above your heart. You moved closer, and he touched your mouth, his tongue tickling the lower edge of your lips, then nibbling your chin.
"If you need money, you'll beg me on your knees. If you need pleasure, I'll fuck you until the next day. If you need comfort, you'll ask me... but I'll invent the comfort, and I don't promise you anything resembling conventional tenderness."
Silence fell between the two of you for a few seconds. No traffic, no stairs, not even the sound of a distant refrigerator. Nanami let the silence fill both of your lungs.
"Ready?"
You looked up. The fear in your eyes hadn't disappeared, but the light had changed: you wanted to try that fork in the road, even if you didn't know the exit.
"Ready." You replied. You didn't add a 'sir,' but the silence echoed and seemed sufficient. Nanami squeezed the back of your neck, making you bow your head.
"Then let's begin."
Slowly, as if you were attending a ceremony, he removed the last excess item of clothing: the hairpin. The black locks fell free, brushing your cheeks. Then he walked around you, leading you toward a door.
"The first room, the one of reflections."
He opened the door, and you saw a sea of mirrors, steel columns, and wooden furniture.
"When I've smeared coconut oil all over you, when I've tied you up and pounded you, when I've made you cry and laugh at the same time, you'll understand what 'forever' means. But for tonight, I'll just give you a taste..."
He closed the door behind you, "a taste so intense it will set itself in your flesh like a scar."
Your knees shook. Your heart was pounding so hard you had to breathe in through your mouth. But you didn't retreat. The world behind that door, you thought, might collapse. You just wanted to stay there, in the place where fear was no longer distinguishable from desire. The course was now mapped out and you, consciously or unconsciously, wanted to follow it with the thirst of someone who had never drunk enough.
Nanami, from his gaze, seemed to appreciate the silent decision. With a swift movement, he placed a blue silk basket on the table in the room. It contained bandages, lubricant, and a simple silver vibrator. Nothing flashy; the magic was in the context, not the instruments.
"Open your mouth," he ordered. You obeyed. He took the vibrator and placed it on your tongue like a wooden spoon.
"This is a reminder of what I might make you swallow."
Then he stood behind you, grabbed your wrists, and placed them behind your back. He tied the black blindfold around your ankles, leaving just enough room to take a step.
"Breathe," he advised. You inhaled. "Good."
The reflection in the many mirrors offered unpacked visions. Every angle showed you vulnerable and wet at the same time. Your thighs glistened with fluids, your dress had been soaked with desire for hours. Nanami dug his fingers into the hem, ripping it aside to his waist. The satin gave way with a sigh. Now your pussy was exposed. He ran his palm over your belly, lowering himself, with the calm of someone reading Braille on a book he never wants to end. He reached your swollen clit and held it still, not touching it.
"You'll see, it won't be just an orgasm."
With his other hand, he lifted the vibrator.
The first contact was a cold, metallic caress along your shoulder blade. The second was the line under your breasts. The third was the vibration that short-circuited your skin, because Nanami, at the same time, moved the pad of his finger to your clit and pressed hard. The mixture of the cold metal and hiis touch made you jump.
"You will come only when I give you permission."
His fingers moved in slow circles, then stopped as your breath hitched. Your legs buckled, your mouth opened, but you didn't make a sound. In the reflections, you saw a body you didn't recognize, the skin shimmering pink, the eyes shining with pleasure, the toes clutching each other.
He lifted your leg against his chest, caressing your calf with his tongue. He felt your salty skin, and felt the twitch at the base of your thigh. With the tip of his tongue, he traced a heart around your big toe. Needlessly, you tried to push your pussy against his face, but he pulled away.
"No, not yet. Your body is like a clock I'm winding. Every waver you make will correspond to a movement of my desire. When the hour strikes, you'll find you can't hold back even a second."
He gave you time to relax. He caressed your neck. The reflection offered an unusual picture: him, elegantly dressed yet disheveled, you, half-naked, luminous, your breathing ragged and your belly contracting intermittently. Neither was entirely dominated or dominating. Your legs were shaking with shivers. Nanami grabbed your ankle and lifted it slightly. He held you suspended in mid-air, then gently placed you on the padded carpet in the center of the room. Nanami wrapped the bandage around your wrists, but this time above your head, tying them to the base of a peg hidden in the floor. He took your dress off completely, leaving only your bra. With one hand he unzipped his pants. His cock sprang out, hardened to a painful curve. But he didn't immediately bring it closer to your body, he just held it on display, like a trophy.
With almost surreal slowness, he buried his face between your legs. A flick of his tongue made you scream. This wasn't the simple oral sex you'd grown accustomed to with Mahito: Nanami was consuming your pussy with the precision of a man who had carte blanche to do everything. Tongue, teeth, breathing, rhythm: everything was variable, a pleasure algorithm that changed with every single reaction. When he felt your muscles tense from orgasm, he slowed down, pulled away, breathed hotly on your clitoris, then returned, stronger. The cycle lasted three times. At the third, you wept. But it was a cry of grace, not of pain. The tears fell down your cheeks, lost in your hair. Your knees trembled; if you could, you would have wrapped your thighs around his neck, but the bandages prevented it.
When Nanami finally felt you were ready, no longer just wet but soaked with desire, he stood up and took off his shirt, showing you his sculpted torso like in the photo on the website, his nipples small and hard.
"Now," he said. With a slow movement, he placed the condom on his cock, the transparent one, thin as a veil, and incredibly expensive, and guided it with his hand to your entrance. "I'm counting."
He began counting, inexorably. "One…two…three…" Only at five did he sink the first inch. The heat of his skin against your flesh blew your mind.
"You're tight…I can feel you opening up…let me in…"
He kept thrusting. The rhythm was hypnotic and slow, not the furious fucking of an impatient boy. The final thrust, however, made you lose track of time. You felt it all the way to the core, that deep connection, the moment when pleasure and pain become one white line.
"Now." Nanami said.
The permission came. First the voice, then the body. You felt the orgasm building inside you like a warm waterfall in your belly, rising, filling your breasts, rising in your throat, overflowing from your mouth in a long moan. Your vaginal muscles contracted in a cycle that seemed never-ending. Nanami kept pace, letting your muscles massage his cock. When the contractions began to subside, he thrust twice more, then climaxed with a suppressed growl. His cum filled the condom, and even in that latex prison, you felt the force of his explosion. You remained together for a few more seconds, sweat holding you together. Then Nanami gently pulled away. He loosened the bandages with a skilled fingertip. He removed the condom, tied it, and tossed it into a small sanitary bin next to the mirror. He caressed your temple, brushing a few wet strands from your forehead.
"Well done," he said, and for the first time his voice sounded tired. "Sit on that cushion. Wait for the hot tub to run. There's some cold sparkling wine. Make yourself at home."