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Bowing I turn.
“Taylor-chan.” My heart thuds at the familiarity in his tone. I turn. He hesitates. Then his face hardens into a stoically cold mask. “You need to be gone before he comes back.”
My heart drops the full thirty seconds I stand there looking at his broad back. Turning I run up the stairs. My heart is beating so hard, I think it’s going to burst from my heart. Why would he say that? Demand that I leave his brother at a time like this?
“Hisashi.” I burst into the bathroom and stop. I can’t tell him what his brother said. I can’t have my introduction to his family be me causing a rift between him and his brother. They’d already had words over me last night.
Who’d have thought that the jovial, kind scholarly man I chatted with last night would be dead today. What happened? I knew my questions would have to wait. Hisashi doesn’t even know.
Looking at him, I can’t help but go over to him. He stops after pulling on his black slacks. I walk over to him wrapping my arms around his waist. He rests his head on the top of my head hugging me. He’s rubbing my lower back like he’s trying to comfort me when it’s obvious he’s the one hurting.
“I know my brother probably told you to leave. You probably should?—”
“I’m not leaving. I’ll be here when you come back home,” I cut him off pulling back to see red rimmed glassy eyes. He’s been crying.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I was going to say—” he cuts me off sighing so hard his whole body expands. Releasing me he swipes both hands through his hair making me release my hold on his waist. Stormy gaze meeting mine, his lips press into a hard line. “I was going to say I know you should, but I’m a selfish motherfucker, little dove. I can’t — won’t tell you to leave, but I should. I. Just. Can’t.” He sounds gutted.
“Hisashi—” he cuts me off kissing me with a hard claiming of his lips. The hard sweep of his tongue makes me gasp with its possessiveness.
Reaching up I circle his neck pulling close. The kiss gentles until we pull apart. His anguish is palpable.
“I’ll be here,” I promise.
For a moment he hesitates, then nods. Together, we go back into the room. He finishes getting ready, taking a black formal man’s ceremonial kimono out of his closet and putting it in a garment bag. I pack his overnight bag with his toiletries and underwear and change of clothes.
I follow him down the stairs bowing in return to both men as they depart. As they look at me as the elevator closes both their gazes scream different messages. Hisashi, be here for me. Kiyoshi, get out.
Weeks later…
My mouth is parched. I know I’ve failed my classes. Those are the thoughts drifting in and out of my mind. If I even have a mind anymore. At least nothing beyond the fact that I’m dying.
Hisashi has been gone for days. He’s forgotten about me this time. The last time it was a whole day but as soon as he came,he cleaned and fed me. He made sure everything was nice before he brought me back here to tidy me up, tying me in intricate kinbaku knots bringing me to orgasm over and over again. This time something’s happened to him. I don’t know if I should be happy or afraid.
Maybe people noticed I’ve been gone. He promised to let me go back to class then he got paranoid thinking I would run away from him. “I can’t lose you too,” he said, his eyes taking on that unhinged light again. He only got quieter when I promised him I wouldn’t. Then went stone cold silent when I begged him. Punished me when I told him he needed to get some help. He made me beg for it as he edged me for hours.
“Tell me, little dove, what help can anyone possibly give me that you’re not?” he whispered as he slid slowly in and out of me making me clench around his length as he taunted me making the kinbaku knots tighten against my sensitive flesh in delicious torment.
When he asked me nearly a week after his father passed away, if I wanted to explore rope play with him I said, yes. Not just to soothe my increasingly erratic husband, I was genuinely intrigued. Hisashi is an amazing lover. I could tell he was using it to deal with his grief and I was happy to be there for him in any way he needed. He showed very little interest in talking about his father’s death. Flat out refused to go to grief counseling. I could take from his non-response that a Takeda would never. Not just from fear it may get out but from what he said. “It is not our way.” Leaving it at that.
The Takeda way was to push through, suffer, push all the pain down until it was ground into the dirt. Never to be spoken of again.
I knew a little about that. Loves did talk to each other though. Taking advice to just pray about it. Family elders scoffedabout telling folks our business when anyone of the younger generation talked about going to therapy.
So, I understand where Hisashi’s family was coming from, but I’d hoped he’d share his pain with me. Instead, he buried himself in his coding programs for the first few days. Looking back, I can see his mood gradually changing over that time.
A week later he started tying me up. Soon things began to blur. He wouldn’t release me. I started to panic. He’d soothe me with food and sex. So much sex.
“I can’t lose you,” he’d say, holding me afterward. In truth I didn’t want to leave him. “You’ll leave me now, if I let you go.” He never believed me when I promised I wouldn’t. I figured I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, but can you have it if you weren’t kidnapped? If you voluntarily stayed when he warned you, you should have left?
I know I shouldn’t blame myself. I begged him to let me go days ago when he said he had another emergency. He looked disheveled and even fearful when he came to pepper me with kisses.
“Babe, brush your hair,” I whispered when he gave me water, rice porridge, and fruit.
“I will.” Promising, he looked harassed. “I’m going to let you go.”
“Why not now, babe?” I asked softly.
“Not now.” He pressed the softest, saddest kiss on my lips. “When I come back.” Getting up fishing for his keys, he left me in the room off the side of the kitchen behind his dojo. I’d been coming to work out with him in the room beyond having no idea he had a secret room until he brought me back here the first time for rope play. Here I was thinking it was our own little red room. No, ma’am. It was so much more than that.
