Your phone vibrated once again on your bedside table, illuminating the dark room with a bluish light. It was dawn, but you'd already been awake for hours, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, your mind still trapped in memories of the previous night. Your lips tingled at the memory of Choso's taste, of his desperate submission, of how he'd rubbed himself against your feet like an animal in heat, licking your shoes, begging to be used. A shiver ran down your spine, and your fingers automatically slipped under the sheets, between your thighs, still damp with residual arousal. You didn't even need to actually touch yourself; you just had to close your eyes and relive the scene: Choso was on his knees, his maid's dress tight around his muscular hips, his eyes shining as he swallowed your juices. The phone vibrated again, jolting you from the memory.
Nanami.
Again.
The screen displayed five missed calls and a dozen messages in an hour, all accumulated from the night before, when you had completely ignored it, too busy playing with your new toy.
With a sigh, you grabbed the device, your fingers trembling slightly. Not from fear, obviously, but from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Answering now would be an act of submission, you knew. Nanami was used to being the center of your attention, and ignoring him for so long was already a provocation. But you needed his money. So, with a smirk curling your lips, you pressed the call button, bringing the phone to your ear as you stretched out naked between the sheets, your body still sensitive to the memory of Choso's hands on you.
Nanami's voice sounded tense, filled with controlled anger.
"Finally. I thought you were dead."
There was no trace of his usual calm, almost paternal tone. He was furious. You bit your lower lip, feeling the power you had over him at that moment.
"Sorry, Kento. I was…busy."
Your voice was a hoarse whisper, still thick with sleep and unfulfilled desire.
"Busy doing what?"
The question was a sharp blow, almost an accusation.
"My stuff."
You laughed, playing with the sheets, imagining Nanami's expression as he clutched the phone, the veins in his neck bulging.
"I don't like being ignored, Y/n."
"I know." You paused, letting the silence linger, knowing he would fill the void. "But if you want to see me, I can make an exception."
Nanami made a strangled noise, almost a growl.
"At eight. At the Black Garden. Be careful."
The line went dead before you could answer. You threw the phone on the bed with a smug smile. You'd won this round. But as you stood up, feeling the warm floor beneath your feet, the screen lit up again. This time, however, it wasn't Nanami.
Choso: Mistress…please. I can't stop thinking about yesterday. How you made me feel. How you used me. I need you.
The words made your eyes burn. A mixture of excitement and annoyance tightened your stomach. It was pathetic. And yet, that desperate need made you feel alive, powerful. Your fingers flew across the screen, but stopped before typing a response. No. Not yet. You would keep him waiting. You would make him suffer.
Shortly after…
The Black Garden was exactly as you remembered it: a temple of suffocating luxury, where every detail (from the silk table-cloths to the crystal glasses) screamed luxury. Nanami was already seated at your favorite table, his broad shoulders filling out his tailored jacket, his blonde hair slicked back with obsessive precision. When you entered, his eyes immediately fell on you, dark and penetrating. He didn't smile. He didn't get up. He remained seated, his fingers drumming on the table, a gesture that betrayed his irritation.
You approached slowly, aware of how the simple yet expensive black dress you'd chosen accentuated the slim curves of your body. Nanami followed your every move with his eyes, his lips pursed.
"You're late."
"Just a little bit."
You sat down, crossing your legs casually, sliding your hand up your thigh in a gesture you knew was provocative.
"Five minutes is too long." He said.
Nanami reached out, grabbing your wrist with a grip that wasn't gentle.
"Where were you yesterday?"
The question was a trap. You knew it. But instead of lowering your gaze, you met his, your lips curving in a mischievous smile.
"Where did you want me to be, Kento? At home. Thinking about you."
It was such an obvious lie you almost laughed as you said it. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched.
"You're lying."
"What if I were?"
You challenged him, tilting your head. "What would you do?"
For a moment, Nanami looked like he was about to explode. Then, instead, he relaxed in his chair, a cold smile curving his lips.
"I want to remind you who pays your rent."
He let go of your wrist, but only to slide his hand up your forearm, enclosing your fingers.
"And I know exactly how to do that." He continued.
The waiter arrived at that moment, breaking the tension with a sip of champagne that Nanami ordered without even looking at him. You accepted the glass and raised it to your lips. The liquid burned your throat, but that didn't help erase the memory of Choso's taste. The way he'd clung to your thighs, begging. The way he'd licked the dirty plate for you, humiliated yet so aroused.
The phone vibrated in your purse. You weren't supposed to look at it. But you did.
Choso: I'm imagining you with him. With someone, basically. Is he touching you? Is he fucking you? I wish I were in his place. I wish it were just me making you moan.
The words burned your skin. You felt the heat rising between your thighs, your body reacting instinctively. Nanami was talking, something about the menu, the wine, but you couldn't hear it anymore. You were too busy imagining Choso on his knees, his hands tied, watching you came with another man.
"Y/n!" Nanami's voice was sharp. "Are you listening to me?"
You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. "What? Yes. Sorry."
He studied you for a long moment, then leaned forward, his voice low, almost threatening.
"You're distracted. Is something wrong?"
NO. YES. Everything. "I'm just tired."
You lied, looking down at the napkin, your fingers curling around the edge.
Nanami didn't laugh. He didn't believe you. But instead of insisting, he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up with a brusque movement.
"Come on."
"Where ar-?"
You didn't have time to finish your sentence. Nanami dragged you through the restaurant, past the dark wood sliding doors that led to the private bathrooms. The room was clad in black marble, the mirror over the sink so large it reflected every detail. Nanami pushed you against the wall, his massive body trapping you, his hands gripping your hips possessively.
"If you can't focus on me, then I'll make you forget everything else."
You didn't have time to react. Nanami's lips crashed against yours, his tongue violently insinuating itself into your mouth, as if he wanted to mark you. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, but your mind was still elsewhere.
Choso. The way he'd called you mistress. The way he'd trembled beneath you. Nanami noticed. Of course. He tore the dress from your shoulders with a brusque gesture, the fabric tearing under his force.
"You're mine, damn it."
His words were a growl, his fingers digging into your flesh as he ripped off your panties, throwing them to the floor. "And tonight you'll remind me of that."
He gave you no choice. He lifted you up, your thighs wrapped around his hips, and he thrust into you with a sharp thrust, filling you to the core. You cried out as Nanami began to move, each thrust so violent that your back slammed against the cold marble.
"Look at me." He ordered, grabbing your chin and forcing your gaze to meet his. "Not him. Look at me."
But it was impossible. Even as Nanami fucked you mercilessly, your mind was flooded with images of Choso. Of the way he'd offered himself to you, begging to be humiliated. Of the way you'd licked his cum from your fingers, and of his eyes filled with devotion. Your phone vibrated again in your purse, abandoned on the floor. Him again.
Nanami noticed again. His thrusts became more brutal, his breathing labored as he took you with a fury that was almost desperation.
"Who are you thinking of, bitch?"
His words were a stab to the heart, and he spoke them in a voice broken by desire and anger. "Tell me his name."
You shook your head, your lips parted in a silent moan. You would never admit the truth. Not there, not ever.
Then Nanami grabbed you by the hair, forcefully pulling your head back.
"Tell me."
"No one," you lied, but your body betrayed every word. You were wet, you were trembling, the pleasure mounting inexorably even though your mind was elsewhere.
"You're a dirty liar."
Nanami bit your neck, his teeth sinking into your delicate skin. "But it doesn't matter. I'll make you cum so hard you'll forget your name."
You closed your eyes, your lips parting in a cry as he hit that spot inside you, again and again, mercilessly. Nanami's hands were on your hips...You wanted him. But even as the orgasm overwhelmed you, flooding you with heat, there was another voice in your head.
"Mistress, please…"
And it wasn't Nanami's.
***
Your body was still shaking when Nanami pulled you away from the bathroom wall, his legs struggling to hold you up as his hot seed dripped down your thighs. You hadn't even had time to fix your torn dress before he'd already dragged you out, his grip on your wrist so tight it left finger marks. The dim lights of the restaurant seemed almost offensive after the raw intensity of that moment, and the waiters' prying glances slid over you, making you feel awkward. Nanami didn't say a word, simply tugged you toward the exit, where Ijichi was already waiting for you, standing next to the black Audi, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his lips pursed in a thin line.
The evening air was cool, almost cold on your exposed skin, but you felt nothing except the burning between your legs and the weight of Nanami's gaze piercing through you. The driver opened the back door without a word, and you got in. The leather of the seats was cold against your bare thighs, and as you settled in, you felt Nanami's seed clinging to your skin, sticky. He sat next to you, the distance between your bodies filled with a tension that wasn't just anger. It seemed to be something deeper, more dangerous.
"Don't you dare touch me," you whispered, even though you already knew it was an empty threat. Nanami laughed, a dry, humorless sound, as Ijichi got behind the wheel and started the engine. The car moved through the night traffic, the city lights streaming past the tinted windows like streaks of fire.
"Do you think I don't know what you're doing?"
Kento Nanami's voice was low, sharp. "Do you think I'm so stupid I don't notice your mind is elsewhere even while I'm fucking you?"
You didn't answer. You just stared out the window, your fingers fidgeting nervously over your phone in your bag. You felt it vibrate every few minutes, but you didn't dare take it out. Not yet.
"I'm watching you, Y/n." Nanami leaned closer, the scent of his expensive aftershave filling your nostrils. "And I know you're lying."
You pursed your lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He laughed again, this time with a hint of contempt. "No? Then why, while I was fucking you against that wall, did your ass clench every time your phone vibrated in your bag?"
His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers slipping under your dress, touching that spot where you were still wet. "Every time you got that fucking text notification, you tensed up."
You closed your eyes for a second, your breath catching in your throat. Nanami was right. Every vibration of the phone had been like an electric shock, Choso's name burning in your mind even as Nanami penetrated you violently.
"It's just work," you lied, your voice too weak to be convincing.
"Work." Nanami huffed, his fingers growing more insistent, pressing against your still-swollen clit. "Then why don't you answer his texts now, if it's just work?"
You didn't have time to react. Nanami grabbed your bag, opened it with a brusque gesture, and pulled out your phone.
"Unlock it," he said.
"No."
"Unlock it. If it's just work, there's nothing to hide, right?"
You unlocked it, and he snatched the phone from you. He scrolled through the messages. His eyes narrowed as he read, his lips curling into a cruel grin.
"Please, Mistress, I need you. I can't resist without your scent, without your hands on me. Make me cum, make me lick your feet, do anything to me, just don't ignore me…?"
Nanami read aloud, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Very professional, Y/n. Very professional indeed."
You tried to snatch the phone from him, but he was quicker, holding it out of your reach.
"Give me the fucking phone!"
"Or?"
Nanami leaned back, his gaze piercing you. "What are you going to do? Threaten me? Tell me you'll never call me again?" He shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. I'll be the one who never calls you again after this."
You felt tears burning your eyes, and you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. You weren't going to cry. Not in front of him.
"Okay, then stop it." You hissed. "If you already know everything, why are you still playing?"
Nanami looked at you for a long moment, then tossed your phone onto the seat next to you.
"Because...I enjoy watching you cum."
He adjusted his tie, a slow, calculated gesture.
"That's not true."
He looked at you again.
"I know you'll come back to me. Like everyone else," he said.
The car soon stopped in front of your building, a dilapidated structure that looked even more shabby under the streetlights. Ijichi got out and opened the door, but Nanami didn't move.
"Ijichi will take you up," he said, his gaze fixed on you. "And from tonight on, you won't hear from me again."
You got out, without saying a word, feeling his gaze burning your back as Ijichi followed you silently toward the entrance. The elevator smelled of urine and disinfectant, and when the doors closed, you leaned against the wall, your legs shaking. Only when you were in front of your apartment door did Ijichi hand you the phone.
"Miss," he said, his voice neutral, but his eyes were filled with contempt, which, obviously, he didn't bother to hide.
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked away, leaving you there, phone in hand, your body still aching.