How to Discipline Your Vampire (11 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cerise

“That is just unacceptable, Cerise,” Erin said, shaking her head.

I threw up my hands. “Can’t you just be happy for me? I had
a breakthrough,
goddammit.”

Erin took a long sip of her Earl Grey and looked me steadily in the eyes. “How can you have a proper relationship with him if he’s busy taking you out to dinner and calling the shots? It’s like some alternative lifestyle.”

I took an equally long drink, burning my tongue in the process of trying to look cool—just after it had fully healed from the nuclear cheese incident. “I don’t think I need to tell you that most people consider what
we
do to be quite alternative,” I said, pursing my lips, waiting for her reaction. She just shrugged.

“All I’m saying is that there’s a huge imbalance in the power exchange here. You told him no, and he disobeyed. Listen, I’m all for subs being boyfriends, but this is just out of line. Unless you make him pay dearly in the next scene, you’ve lost ground . . . with him
and
with me.” It was times like these where I wished Erin had some horrible deformity or speech impediment. I wanted to mock something really, really obvious about her.

I shook my head slowly, and measured my words. “I don’t need ground with you. You are not my Domme; you’re my mentor. Most days I consider you a close friend, but now you’re just being flat-out mean. I think I have a shot at being happy, Erin, and I want your support.”

“If you want my support to be his girlfriend, I wish you all the luck in the world. However, I can’t in good conscience say you will have a great D/s relationship with him. So much has gone wrong so quickly.”

Center yourself, Cerise,
I told myself,
imagine she’s talking like Daffy Duck. No, still not calm. How about Daffy Duck tripping balls on shrooms? Hmm, that’s better.

“What about all that’s gone right?” I asked. “I have never been so attracted to someone, and he’s fighting so damn hard for me. It makes me feel good, and isn’t that what all this is about? You know I’ve never been traditional.” My tea shook in my hand, spilling out sizzling droplets on my wrist.

Erin took a small, demure bite of her scone and swallowed. “I’ve said my piece. He’s not good for you. Read that last journal he gave you, and find out. You’re being lied to again, Cerise,” she said, taking my hand. “I don’t want to see you fall apart.”

Fuck.

Tears threatened to invade my eyes, so I blinked a few times and went to my happy place—Nordstrom’s denim section. The assault retreated. “We’ll see,” was all I could manage.

Erin decided that now would be the perfect time to change the subject. “Oh, and Brent was wondering if you wanted to do a scene with us at a play party,” she said smoothly. I was about to have another case of spontaneous jaw-dropping syndrome. “The theme is
Three’s Company,
so instead of dressing like we’re from the seventies, we thought we’d add someone else to the fun.”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to decline that invitation,” I said, rolling my eyes at her audacity.

She shrugged. “It might be good for you,” she said, and threw out the remainder of her scone and tea. I sipped the dregs and got up quickly.

I had to get home to that journal, whether or not I’d read it. I just slept with it under my pillow.

The journal sat in my lap, unopened. I was happy with my decision, and firm in my resolve. I would not read it. If William asked, I would explain my reasoning.

It was Monday morning, and I was thrilled I’d be doing a scene with him later on that day. The few but fabulous memories I had of our last couple of encounters were playing on a constant loop in my brain. The feather, the piano, the forehead kiss. Bizzy was begging for me to strap a discreet butterfly on her for the school day, but I got too nervous. I mean, what if the class fell silent and heard a faint buzzing from the front of the room? I could always blame it on my cell phone, I guess.

Then again, I didn’t keep my cell phone on my crotch. On second thought, better not. Instead, I just kept checking for texts and scrolling through pictures I had taken of him.

“Talking to your boyfriend?” one of the students asked accusingly. Bobby, I think his name was.

“Excuse me?” I asked, eyebrows vaulting toward my hairline.

A few of the boys laughed. “You’re turning red and smirking and biting your lip.”

I slid my phone back in my pocket discreetly. “I read a funny headline,” I bluffed.

“One that made you blush?” a little nugget of a freshman chimed in.

“How about this,” I answered, “if you guys stop asking about my personal life
and
finish your homework in the next ten minutes, we can play Pictionary on the board? Maybe listen to some tunes?”

They applauded—especially my punk kids—while I checked repeatedly for William’s lunchtime e-mail.

When I got it, I could say I was
more
than pleased. He was going to do well with today’s scene—geisha and servant.

From: William Gentry

Subject: Confession

Date: May 9, 2012

To: Cerise Norrel

Dearest Cherry Blossom,

I humble myself before you now, and beg for your forgiveness in advance.

I know I am but a lowly servant, and should never have done something to offend any geisha, let alone the most celebrated one in all Kyoto.

I have become fixated on you to the point of obsession. When I was cleaning your chamber last night, I stole a drop of your perfume. I put it on a handkerchief so that
I
may inhale your intoxicating scent while you are gone.

It was wrong of me, and I await my penance. I will serve you your tea today, as usual, and you may punish me as you see fit.

Please forgive this unworthy yet enamored heart.

Sincerely,

William

I let out a long sigh. Thank goodness class had just left. This man was going to be my undoing, and I was going to love every minute of it.

Erin’s chastisement yesterday was a faint memory as I ran my hands over the sumptuous fabric of the black and purple kimono hanging in my bathroom.
Unreal,
I thought to myself while I unraveled each complex piece of the ensemble. I had done my homework on kimono-wearing during my free period earlier that day. There was the obi, the
mae-ita,
and the
obijim
e
,
all finally wrapped around my waist. My outfit was now complete. Instead of putting my hair in a geisha-style bun, I decided to flat-iron it so it fell in long sheets around my face. I used my “winter complexion” pressed powder, clipped in a few black extensions, and put on some matte red lipstick to complete the look.

Look out, Kyoto.

I smoothed my clothing and walked as steadily as I could in the high platform sandals William provided. He had put on quite a show the past few scenes, so I knew I would have to hide my shock at whatever he had done this time.

But no amount of preparation could have possibly kept the shock and awe from my expression when I walked into my bedroom.

William had placed lacquered bamboo parquet on top of my hardwoods, giving the room a much brighter feel. There were also about five or six tatami mats in various points in the room. The furniture was gone, as expected, and all that occupied the space was a simple tea set on the floor, and arrangements of fresh cherry boughs and blossoms in every corner. I was breathless at the sight and the smell. It was like a movie set.

But he wasn’t there. I supposed he was planning on serving me, so I arranged my robe carefully as I sat on the tatami mat closest to the tea setup. I took a moment to inhale and exhale slowly, centering myself for what was to come.

Geishas had to be graceful, calm, and subtle while maintaining their aura as the center of attention. William had a tough audience today.

Before I could hear his approach, William stood in front of me, and then bent into a low bow. As he stood, he kept his head and eyes downcast as he poured hot water into the green tea leaves that were in the pot by my feet. I gave his calves a whack with my fan.

“How
dare
you take from me,” I chastised.

“Cherry Blossom,” he said quietly. “I hope you received my apologetic appeal. Would you allow me to serve you tea today? I understand if you choose to send me away.”

I looked him up and down in approval. He was wearing simple black drawstring pants and a loose black robe. I could see his chest exposed in a long, low V. I was very pleased. “You may serve me tea,” I said simply, and he made me a cup of green tea.

He kneeled by my side, wordlessly, while I sipped in contemplation. “Have you decided my fate, Cherry-san?” he asked after I had placed my cup on the floor.

“I believe I have, servant. You took from me, so today I will take from you.” I gave him another sharp whack with my fan.

His gaze burned, and I had to look away.
Focu
s
, focu
s
,
I told myself.

“I’d like to look at you. I want to see if you are fit to stay in my home as a piece of artwork for my collection,” I said, standing gracefully. I circled him, examining him closely.

“Take off all your clothes, fold them in the corner, and stand by the window,” I said.

He followed my orders promptly, moving quickly to the designated spot. He opened his black tunic just slowly enough—he wanted to follow my orders, but he also knew he was responsible for putting on a bit of a show. The sunlight poured through the window and spilled onto his muscular chest. Far away from Cherry Blossom’s mind, Cerise noted how William was impervious to the sunlight.
Some vampire
.

Cherry took control again. “All of it,” I goaded.

He peeled off his pants in one sweep, revealing his naked form. I walked up to him and appraised his body. I opened the fan and used the soft folds to stroke the skin of his back. “Your geisha has decided you are worthy of being kept, if you please her.”

“Anything,” he said.

“Lie down.” I pointed to a spot on the ground near him. I had a few discreet hooks put into the wall and floor, so I knew exactly where I wanted him.

I sauntered over to my toy box, and grabbed a few skeins of Japanese love rope. William wasn’t going anywhere. I watched his naked backside as he bent down over the designated spot. I loved watching his muscles move—he had the grace of a jungle cat.

“Your punishment, servant, will be for me to take pleasure from you without getting any back,” I said. “Tonight is about satisfying me, not you. You are not allowed to come. Are we clear?”

He nodded. “Of course, Cherry Blossom,” he said, holding back the smile that was threatening to form. He was thrilled about being punished. I wasn’t surprised.

“You also won’t be allowed to watch me while I’m taking my satisfaction from you,” I explained, and bound his eyes carefully with a silky black scarf. “I do, however, want you to talk to me, so I will not bind your mouth.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, rapt and naked on the ground.

I circled the ropes around his wrists first, knotting and cinching as I went. I tied some intricately, since I was, after all, a master of fine arts and aesthetics. I used red ropes on his torso, forming a knotty cage around his chest and stomach. The longest stretch of rope I saved for his legs, and bound them together from the ankles to the knees. Once he was fully immobile and prone, I lashed his wrists and ankles to the bolts in the floor and my masterpiece was complete, cocooned in rope.

He was aroused and ready for me, and I couldn’t wait to feel him inside. The thought of just his cock touching me, with the rest of his body lashed to the floor, nearly sent me over the edge as I almost lowered myself down on him.

But I wanted to take my time. I hadn’t spent enough effort on enjoying William’s body. I wanted to savor this man’s fine-ass form.

I kneeled on the tatami mat next to him and ogled to my heart’s delight. He couldn’t see me, so I felt comfortable taking in the view at my leisure. He could wait—he
should
wait. I’ve seen some fine specimens in my time, but William’s body was absolutely flawless. I ran my hand down his arm and we both shuddered at the electricity between us. I swirled my finger in the crook of his elbow—even parts of him that weren’t sexy were sexy. So I decided to lick the places on him that startled me with their unexpected sensuality.