BindingCherryBlossoms

Gia
Dawn

Book 3 in the Red Masks series

Sakura wants to learn the ancient Japanese Tea Ceremony to
please her parents. It’s the least she can do since she intends to refuse the
marriage they have arranged for her to a man she has never met. Unfortunately, the
only person in Charleston, South Carolina, who knows the ceremony is a masked bondage
Master at a local BDSM club. He’s willing to teach her in exchange for her complete
sexual submission.

When she meets Ian, her chosen fiancé, she has no idea he is
her masked Master. By night, Sakura’s submissive side blossoms as she explores
the dark realms of sexual release with her Master. By day, she is increasingly
drawn to the other man, whose easygoing disposition is starting to win her over
to the idea of marriage.

Will Ian be able to bind her broken heart after she learns
that he has deceived her?

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and
scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

A
Romantica®
BDSM erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Ian Hideo Shoji worked with a concentration that blocked out
all other sensory input, focused entirely on tying the last of the intricate
knots along the woman’s arms in a perfect example of the Japanese bondage
technique,
kinbaku
. When he was finished, he pushed her head down in
submission. His fingers threaded through her thick black hair as he positioned
her to his satisfaction. Still, he felt no sexual desire for any of the models
who had served him this night, even this last one whose hair fell over her
shoulders like a cloud of ebony silk.

With a frown that no one could see behind his mask, he
stepped aside and presented the woman to the audience, bowing in respect to the
hundred or so people who had paid five thousand dollars a person to watch him
work his magic on the erotic models now displayed in the center of the room.

Each one of them was bound differently. One, a buxom
redhead, had her hands tied behind her head and her breasts wrapped in thick
green ribbon. The piercings in her nipples made an excellent anchor for the
secondary ropes he’d slid between her legs and crisscrossed up her back to
connect with those that held her wrists.

A second model, with dark skin and even darker hair, had
ropes wrapped around both legs from her knees to her thighs, spreading them so
far apart the dusky flesh of her cunt was visible on either side of the thick
knot he had woven to torture her clitoris. She sighed with pleasure whenever
she shifted position, forcing him into disciplinary action and a sharp smack on
her ass when she grew too fond of turning her bondage into a sexual party of
one.

A third model hung suspended from a metal frame facedown, a
strong main rope encircling her torso and hips. This kept her securely in
position so she would not be injured when he bound her hands and ankles
together above her back. She nodded when he grabbed her leg and sent her
spinning as he passed, the crowd gasping in delight. He had been fortunate to
find the nimble circus performer and she’d jumped at the chance to be involved
in the fund-raising event—to show off her supple body for anyone interested in
a different kind of exhibition.

All in all, Ian was pleased. Tonight he had helped Madame
Brisson and the Red Mask Society raise nearly five hundred thousand dollars for
the Saladar Center’s special program for sex trafficking and abuse victims.

Manette greeted him with a hug as he removed his mask and
slid out of the black kimono he had worn for the demonstration. “
Merci,
Shoji-san,” she said, her smile radiant. “Zayne Saladar is beyond pleased with
your performance and your generous donation to the center.”

Ian bowed, noting as always the woman’s sleek beauty. He’d
had the honor of binding her at an exhibition in Paris the year before. She’d
been beyond exquisite. Her picture hung in his apartment at home and he never
tired of gazing upon the image.

But they’d never been lovers. Manette seemed as jaded by her
lifestyle as Ian was by his, and they’d mutually agreed to a platonic
relationship. Still, when he’d been called to Charleston, South Carolina, on
business, he’d contacted her immediately and been thrilled when she’d asked him
to do a demonstration at her private Red Mask club.

He gave her a satisfied smile in return. “I would do
anything you asked of me, Madame.”

“Ah.” Her eyes took on a calculating gaze. “Then I have a
most unusual proposition for you…unless of course you planned on taking more
than a professional interest in one of your models tonight?” Her smile grew
even more excited when he shook his head. “Excellent. Then I have someone I
would like you to meet. She has a very special request.”

Ian’s smile faltered. He’d had his share of feminine
requests and they were always tediously similar. “Does she beg to be my slave?
Want me to bind her in my dungeon and punish her for eternity?”

Manette actually giggled, a sound like wind chimes tinkling
in the breeze. “So sure of your sex appeal,
Bakushi
?”

“I just understand the inevitable.” He followed her to the
bar where he ordered a beer, his mask dangling negligently in one hand. Now the
show was over and he was in modern street attire. No one knew his true identity
except for a very few people Manette had introduced him to before the
performance. And while many women glanced at him with more than a passing
interest, none of them watched him with the overly hungry eyes of those who
worshipped him as
Bakushi
—the bondage master.

Manette nodded to a far corner of the room. “This lady
wishes to learn the proper way to host a formal Japanese Tea Ceremony.”

Now that piqued his interest. “Tea Ceremony?” He grinned
despite himself. “That’s a request I have never once heard before. Why did she
come to ask me?”

“Her father spent years refusing to interact with the local
Asian population in his quest to Americanize the family. Since you’ve just
arrived from Japan, she hopes you might have some authentic contacts.”

Ian felt his curiosity dim. He’d had his own share of being
ostracized and didn’t relish the idea of becoming entangled in another cultural
feud. But he was curious. That she would come to see his demonstration said
something interesting about her personality. And he might be persuaded to
indulge in some personal pleasure while he was in town on difficult family
business…if the right partner happened to appear. “Who is she?”

Manette pursed her lips. “The lady wishes to remain
anonymous.”

“But you know who she is?”

“
Absolument
.”

“And are you going to let me in on the secret?”

“
Non
.”

“Even if I promise to throw in another twenty thousand
dollars for the donation?”

That got her attention. He watched with a pretense of
indifference as a parade of conflicting emotions crossed her lovely face. “I
have never once betrayed a woman’s trust, Ian, shame on you for even making the
offer.”

He sighed. “You are right. I had no business asking.”

“
Bon
.” She stood on tiptoe and looked over his
shoulder to where another man made his way toward them, limping heavily on a
cane. Manette’s face lit up with an expression that was almost childlike in its
joy. “This is my brother, Thibaut.” She grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him
close to her side. “He has just returned from Afghanistan where he served with
the French Foreign Legion.”

Thibaut held out his hand. “I am a great admirer of your
work,
Bakushi
. Manni sent me pictures from the exhibition in Paris.
Exquisite.”

His voice held the same trace of an accent as his sister’s,
and Ian could not help but notice the family resemblance. Both of them had the
same raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, although Thibaut’s held an
exhaustion that only a soldier truly felt. Ian had seen that look before. It
haunted the faces of many men he instructed in
kinbaku
and the martial
arts, both practices helping men regain control of their lives after their
tours of duty were ended. It was a job that gave him more satisfaction than
he’d ever anticipated.

He bowed in respect. “I would be honored to teach you while
I am in town.”

Thibaut grimaced as he made a fist of his right hand and
pressed it into his left palm, bringing both hands to chest level as he bowed
in return. “And I would be honored to take you to task on the mat. If you think
you could survive the session.”

Ian glanced at the cane and noted the unnatural stiffness in
the other man’s hands. “You have finished your physical therapy, Thibaut?”

“
Oui
. But for God’s sake call me Ty. Thibaut got me
beat upon a regular basis before our parents took pity on me and shipped me off
to France.” He nodded. “Finished a few weeks ago. Now all I’ve got to do is get
my strength back.”

Ian turned his attention back to the women. “Are you in the
mood for any one of them tonight?”

“No. I am unable to—” Ty clamped his jaw shut, cutting off
the rest of the sentence.

But Ian understood. “Then may I suggest the one whose legs
and clit are bound.” He nodded to where the dark-skinned beauty continued to
manipulate the rope between her legs. “She is begging to be punished, nothing
more. I had to discipline her once already tonight myself.”

The other man’s expression calmed as he grasped Ian’s
meaning. “I seethat sheis most unappreciative of your work. I
will take care of her immediately.
Merci
.” With that he began to roll up
his sleeves as he turned and made his way toward the misbehaving model.

Manette frowned. “Thibaut has yet to readjust to civilian
life. He has nightmares, although he adamantly refuses to discuss them. And as
far as I know he has not made love to a woman since his injuries.”

“He will enjoy himself tonight,” Ian assured her, “even if
he doesn’t move past the flogging session. Don’t press him. You don’t know what
he might have seen in combat.”

“That is what worries me,
mon cher
.” Manette ran her
hands down the length of her skirt and smoothed her hair behind one ear. “But
we were discussing more pleasant matters.”

“Like the mysterious woman of the Tea Ceremony? Would fifty
thousand dollars change your mind?”

“You are an absolute beast. Not only will I not tell you her
name, you will place a check for ten thousand dollars into Monsieur Saladar’s
hands by morning for making me angry.”

He’d always admired Manette’s strict adherence to the rules
she set down for her patrons’ protection—even if it annoyed the hell out of him
now. But it had been worth a try to get the information, and ten thousand
dollars was a small price to pay in honor of the woman’s ethics.

“You are difficult.” He leaned close to brush a kiss on her
cheek. “But you always have my utmost respect.”

Manette pursed her lips. “I am unmoved by flattery.” But he
could see the twinkle in her eye as she turned toward a dark corner of the
room. “So this woman is interested in learning the ceremony to impress a
notable Japanese family when they come to Charleston in a few weeks.”

Ian snapped into full attention. His family was coming to
the city next month to finalize a business deal with Katashi Nakao…and try to
arrange a marriage with the man’s daughter, Sakura.

There were no such things as coincidence.

“I will give the girl exactly what she wants.” Already he
was re-donning his mask. “And add some instruction for my own amusement.”

“Take care,
Bakushi
, that you do not go too far,”
Manette warned as he finished his beer and slammed the empty bottle on the bar.
“She may not care for your particular brand of pleasure.”

But he didn’t have time for an answer as he crossed the room
to where the woman waited.

Ian knew who she was the instant she came into his view.
Petite. Sophisticated. The quintessential picture of a perfect oriental
submissive, from the swath of inky hair that fell straight down her back to the
almond-shaped eyes that tilted up at the corners. They beckoned to him beneath
their lush black lashes, startlingly bright even behind the concealing mask.

“Good evening.” He bowed, watching as she hurriedly stood
and dipped her head in return.

“Madame Manette has explained my dilemma?” Her voice was as
delicate as her features, barely a whisper above the background noise of the
room.

“She did. May I sit?” He pointed to the seat beside her,
settling down when she nodded her assent. “You understand it takes years to
become a true master of the Tea Ceremony.”

“I was afraid you would say that.” Her voice grew even
softer in her disappointment. “But I was hoping I could learn at least enough
not to embarrass my family completely. My father especially,” she added with a
frown. “He made the request of me several weeks ago.”

“And do you always do as your father requests?” When she
laughed, the sound was richer and more abandoned than he’d been expecting.
Maybe she wasn’t the perfect submissive after all. His blood pounded in renewed
interest. So she had Western sensibilities. What would she be willing to do to
have him become her teacher? Could he teach her the art of obedience? The
questions intrigued him and so did she.

“I have refused my father’s requests on more occasions than
I care to remember,” she admitted, “and I will continue to defy him long into
the future. But this was one thing I thought I could do to prove I am not a
completely ungrateful daughter. I was hoping you might have some connection
overseas or know someone here in the States I could contact. Money is not a
problem. I can pay very well for a teacher’s time and effort.”

“Most masters do not teach for compensation.” He stared at
her until she lowered her eyes and fumbled with her glass. Good. So she could
learn to submit and did have some idea of how to show her master the proper
respect. “Stand.”

“What?” She blinked at him from behind her mask, obviously
confused by his abrupt request.

“Stand. Then kneel and sit
seiza
before me.” He
leaned back in his chair, tense, waiting to see if she obeyed. To his
satisfaction, she removed her shoes and stood before dropping gracefully to her
knees and sitting back on her heels. A trained geisha could not have
accomplished the move with much more finesse.

He reached out and bowed her head, running his hand along
her hair as he had done with the model before, but this time to his complete
surprise, he felt his slumbering cock raise its head in interest. For long
seconds he allowed himself to indulge in the arousal as he continued to thread
his fingers through her hair. “Like the finest silk,” he muttered, holding her
head in place when he felt her try to lift her chin in disobedience. He pulled
his hand away with regret. “Now stand.”