Page 27 of Kotori

Her breath quickens. "The girls—"

"Are asleep. And you're mine to do with as I please." I pull at one strap, letting it fall from her shoulder. "Tonight I'm going to show you exactly what that means."

The nightgown slips away, leaving her naked under the moonlight. Her skin glows almost silver, every curve displayed for my pleasure.

"Fuck," I breathe, circling her slowly. "Look at you."

She stands straight, trying to maintain dignity while exposed. But her body betrays her—nipples tight, pulse visible at her throat, thighs pressing together.

"In the water," I command, removing my yukata completely. My cock stands thick and hard, and I catch the moment her lips part involuntarily at the sight of it. "Now," I add when she hesitates.

She steps toward the steaming pool, testing the temperature with one foot before slowly sinking into the hot water. A small moan escapes her as the heat envelops her body.

"Good girl," I say, following her in. "Now come here and serve me."

I gesture toward the bathing area beside the pool, where wooden buckets and bathing stools are arranged on smooth stone. "You're going to wash me first," I command. "Every part of my body. Then we'll enter the waters."

Her hands shake as she fills a wooden bucket from the stone basin.

I settle onto the low wooden stool, my back to her, yukata pooled around my waist. "Start with my shoulders," I instruct, and she pours the warm water over my skin, watching it stream down my back.

She hesitantly takes the small cloth and soap, working it into a lather before touching me. I remain perfectly still, letting her grow accustomed to the intimacy of washing another's body.

"Use both hands," I command quietly. "Learn me."

Her palms slide across my shoulders, down my spine with growing boldness. Every touch burns, her fingers tracing old scars, following muscle lines. When she reaches around to wash my chest, her breasts brush against my back, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.

"You're shaking," I observe, feeling the tremor in her hands. "Are you afraid?"

"Yes," she admits.

The simple honesty tells me everything. Fear, desire, submission—all wrapped in one word.

"Continue," I say, standing so she can wash the rest of me, removing my yukata completely.

Her hands become more thorough, covering every inch with soap and water. Her breathing becomes shallow when she reaches my lower back, her movements hesitant as she realizes what comes next.

"All of me," I growl. "Every goddamn inch."

When her soapy hands finally wrap around my cock, I hiss through my teeth. She freezes, but I place my hand over hers, guiding her movements.

"Like that," I growl. "Feel what you do to me. This cock is yours to serve."

By the time she's finished, we're both breathing hard, and I'm rock hard from her thorough attention. The ritual washing has served its purpose—she's touched me everywhere, learned my body while I remained in control.

"My turn," I say.

I guide her to sit on the bathing stool, and she complies without protest. Her skin is flushed pink, making her look like something created for my pleasure.

"Hands at your sides," I command. "Let me see what I own."

She obeys, exposing herself completely. The warm water I pour over her shoulders makes her gasp, creating rivers down her back that I follow with my eyes before my hands join them.

"Lean forward," I command, and begin washing her, learning every curve.

The soap makes my hands slide effortlessly across her skin, and I take full advantage, mapping every inch while she sits perfectly still. Her breathing quickens when I work across her shoulder blades, down her sides, close enough to her breasts that she arches slightly.

"Stay still," I murmur, and she freezes.

When I move around to face her, her eyes are dark with something between fear and need. I wash her throat first, feeling her pulse racing under my fingers, then move lower to her chest. My hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing across sensitive peaks that make her breath hitch.

"Look at me," I command quietly.

Her eyes snap open, meeting mine as I continue claiming every inch. I watch her pupils dilate, see her breathing become desperate as my thumbs work her nipples with precision.

"Good," I murmur, watching her struggle to maintain eye contact while sensation overwhelms her. "Learn to take what I give you."

Her lips part, but only soft sounds escape in breathy gasps that prove how completely her body has surrendered.

"Stand," I say quietly, and she obeys on unsteady legs.

I kneel before her, washing her hips, the curve of her waist, the soft skin of her inner thighs. My hands are thorough, possessive, claiming every inch while she trembles above me.

"Wider," I command. "Spread your legs."

She shifts her stance, giving me access. When my fingers slip between her thighs, she gasps, one hand flying to my shoulder for balance.

"You're already wet," I growl, my touch becoming more purposeful. "Your body knows who it belongs to."

Her breathing becomes ragged as I work her with expert precision, one hand gripping my shoulder while the other clenches into a fist at her side.

I watch her face as pleasure builds in her eyes, in the flush spreading down her throat, in the way her hips begin to move against my touch despite her efforts to stay still.

"Oh god," she breathes, and the broken sound of her voice sends satisfaction racing through my veins.

I increase the pressure, vary the rhythm, learning exactly what makes her body sing for me. Her head falls back, legs trembling as she fights to stay upright while I systematically claim every response she has.

Just as her breathing peaks, just as her body begins to tense with approaching release, I stop completely. Pull my hands away and stand.

"Not yet," I say, watching her eyes fly open in confusion and desperate need. "You haven't earned that privilege."

She makes a sound of pure frustration, her body trembling with denied pleasure, hips moving unconsciously seeking the touch I've withdrawn. "Kaito-sama," she breathes, and the way she says my name—desperate, needy, broken—sends dark satisfaction through my veins.

"That's right. Beg your master." My voice is pure gravel. "Tell me what you need."

"Please," she whispers immediately, all pride abandoned.

"Please what, kotori? Say it properly. Tell me what this needy little cunt wants."

Her cheeks burn crimson, but she's too far gone to care about shame. "Please don't stop."

"But you're not ready for the waters yet," I say with mock concern, taking the bucket to rinse the soap from her trembling body. "We must be thorough. Clean you properly for what comes next."

The warm water cascades over her flushed skin. I take my time, letting my hands follow the water, watching her bite her lip to hold back sounds as every touch sends sparks through her overwrought nerves.

"Please touch me," she gasps. "Please don't leave me like this."

I cup her face in my wet hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Who do you belong to?"

"You," she breathes without hesitation.

"Say it properly."

"I belong to you, Kaito-sama."

"Good." I lean closer, my lips barely brushing her ear. "And I take what belongs to me."

I step into the onsen first, the hot mineral water swirling around me. When I extend my hand to her, she takes it without hesitation—the last of her resistance finally broken.

The water envelops us both, and I immediately pull her against me, her back to my chest, letting her feel exactly what claiming her does to me.

"Do you feel that?" I press my hard length against her back.

"That's what you do to me. What this perfect body does to my cock.

" My arms circle her waist, holding her in place while the heated water laps around us.

"Your body belongs to me. Your pleasure belongs to me.

And I decide when you receive it." My fingers find her beneath the water, and she cries out at the contact.

"So fucking wet. This pussy is mine now, isn't it? "

"That's it," I breathe against her neck as she arches into my touch. "Give me what's mine."

This time I don't tease, don't deny. I bring her higher and higher, my fingers working with her swollen clit while my other hand holds her steady against my chest. The water amplifies every sensation, makes every touch electric.

"Come on my fingers," I command against her ear when I feel her body reaching that precipice again. "Show me how this tight manko , this little cunt comes for its master."

And she does, crying out my name as pleasure crashes through her, her body convulsing in my arms while the waters witness her complete surrender to my will. Her hands grip my arms, nails digging in as wave after wave of sensation tears through her.

When she finally goes limp against me, breathing hard, I press my lips to her damp temple.

"That's it. Take what I give you. This body belongs to me. I own every response, every sound, every drop of pleasure."

I turn her in my arms so she faces me, her back against the edge of the pool. My mouth finds her neck, then trails lower to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder—a place usually hidden by clothing. I bite down, sucking the skin until a mark forms.

She gasps, tensing in my arms, but I hold her firmly.

"Mine," I growl against her marked skin. "My woman. My prize. My fucking manko. My pussy. My beautiful little fucktoy to claim whenever I want."

She doesn't protest. Doesn't fight. Just leans back against my chest with the acceptance of someone who's finally stopped running.

My beautiful little bird. She's finally beginning to learn that some cages are too perfect to escape.