Bound to You in Japan (The Brotherhood #2)

Copyright © 2020 by Amelia Danver

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Dedications

This book is dedicated to:

Hiroya Tsuchida, the Japanese boy I met in school. I hope to see you again someday. - EH

Epigraphs:

“At night too, she puzzled at the mystery of her desperate need for kindness. As other girls  prayed for handsomeness in a lover, or for wealth, or for power, or for poetry, she had prayed  fervently: let him be kind.”- Anaïs Nin

"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you  read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are  hibernating."- Anaïs Nin

“Life is full of uncertainties, perhaps one day some unforeseen circumstance would bring her  into his life once more”

― Murasaki Shikibu, the Tale of Genji (Genji Monogatari)

Preface

To my readers:  

Thank you for following Alec’s and Cathy’s journey up till now. I had decided to turn the  story around and tell it from their points of view instead in this second book.

I found myself falling in love over and over again with my characters and Japan as I wrote  this book. I hope you will feel the same, too.

The inspiration for this story came while I was on a holiday trip with my mom in Japan  during Fall 2018. I wrote the idea for the book while riding on a shinkansen (bullet train)  from Tokyo to Osaka. So, it’s basically a story that is long overdue. I have always been  fascinated by Japan, its people, its culture, and the Japanese language itself. I think the place  can give a very romantic backdrop to a love story, and with the Olympics 2021 hopefully on  the horizon, people can learn some things about the country from reading this book, before  deciding to travel there.

Unlike the first book, the author’s notes have been moved to an appendix at the end. I feel it  necessary for this particular book because I wanted to tell Cathy’s and Alec’s journeys to the  fullest, to capture the nuances of their feelings as a whole, rather than choppy parts. I hate to  have interruptions during my writing process for the novel, and I could imagine my readers  

similarly being put off by the author’s notes at the end of every chapter this time around. I  have also added a glossary of useful Japanese phrases and words at the end.

I sincerely hope that you will find this story much more to your liking. I put my heart and  soul into writing it. It also set the stage for the third book in the series, and prepare you for  what is to come.  

As always, listen to the accompanying songs, and stay "sane, safe, and consensual" in your  sexual adventures!

Love,

A.D.

Your Author  

Please note that the graphic content of this book may be a trigger for some people. Please  proceed with caution.

LIST OF ACCOMPANYING SONGS:  

Chapter 1&2: Location Unknown - HONNE ft. Beka  Chapter 4&6: My Oasis - Sam Smith (feat Burna Boy)  Chapter 9&10: Kirara- Shizuka Kudo  

Chapter 12&14: Wild - John Legend  

Chapter 13: All of Me - John Legend  

Chapter 17: Someone That Loves You - HONNE & Izzy Bizu  Chapter 18: Love Me Now - John Legend  

Chapter 19: U Move, I Move - John Legend ft. Jhene Aiko  Chapter 20: Listen - One OK Rock ft. Avril Lavigne  Chapter 21&23: Love I’m Given - Ellie Goulding  

Chapter 22: Fools in Love- Inara George  

Chapter 24: Hold me while you wait - Lewis Capaldi

Chapter One

Present Day

Cathryn

I was tired and sore all over. The bidding has gone for an hour now. There was  apparently a countdown before the auction hammer was brought down sharply on the  table. San, ni, ichi, whack. Those three words repeated over and over again helped me  memorize them. The other girls and I were auctioned off one by one. I was naked, except for  the single rose gold necklace that I wore. I waited patiently for my turn - at least I did not  have to kneel again.

The Japanese man, whose face I could not see as I was blindfolded, kept my head on  his lap as I lay on the cold marble floor. He did not cover my body with a blanket, a towel, a  jacket, or something of his. I think he could not. Maybe it was against the rules to do so.  Luckily, my body has grown accustomed to the cold, so it was not so bad.

As I rested my head on his lap, he sat there caressing my hair lightly from time to time.  His touch was hypnotic and comforting for some strange reasons.

A couple of months ago, my biggest concern was finishing my university essays and  assignments, but that time was far long and gone. I had been kidnapped and was now stuck in  the middle of God-knows-where, in Japan, as a sex slave to be auctioned off and sold to my  new Master. My main worry now was survival.

I did not know who my new Master would be. I hoped he will not be a sadistic person. I  could imagine all sorts of things that a sadistic person would do to me. I read it once in the  book that Alec had borrowed for me on D/s relationships. I certainly did not like the idea of  being caned or flogged or whipped. No, I definitely was not a masochistic person. If I had my  way, I would prefer vanilla every time, but the nature of the auction has hinted at a BDSM  relationship. The fact that I had to call my new owner Shujin-sama, Master, only confirmed  it.

I could only hope that whoever bought me would be a kind person. Maybe I could talk  him out of keeping me here. Maybe I could convince the guy that I would pay back the  amount of money he has spent on this auction. Maybe he would let me travel back to  California, and even paid for my flight ticket and passport to go back home.

My mind whirled around all the possibilities - I could not stop the endless stream of  thoughts. I should have practiced meditation and mindfulness. It would probably help in  situations like this, to quell the rising panic that I felt inside. I tried to concentrate on my own  breathing, the sounds about me, and the feelings brought about by contact with my skin, since  I could not focus on anything else. I could neither see nor speak for a cleave gag has been  placed over my mouth.

Another half hour passed before I heard a commotion from somewhere in front of me.  The scrapings of chairs being shoved back under the table and the final clinking of glasses  signaled the end of the auction. I then felt the Japanese man move to stand up. He helped me  rise into a sitting position by placing his warm hand on my back. Soon, I felt a jacket or a  coat of some sort being placed over me, to partially cover my nakedness. Immediately, I felt  his arm under my legs and my back as he lifted me up. I flung my arms around his neck to  hold onto him as we descended from the podium.

The man reminded me of Alec. He used to carry me like this.

But this man smelled different, felt different. I could smell the faint odor of his  aftershave. It was light and fresh with a hint of citrus. I tried to place it somewhere in my  memory. It bore some resemblance to the smell of lemongrass. He had also a slight limp on  his gait that I noticed as we lurched forward.

A sudden realization hit me. Could he be the one who has bought me? Was that why he  had rushed to the stage and stayed with me throughout the auction? Or could it be that he  worked under the person who had purchased me, and that he would soon hand me over to  another?

A couple of men spoke to him in Japanese, and he replied in his deep bass voice. It sent  tingles down my body. I liked the way his voice reverberated with each syllable. Suddenly,  Japanese became the most beautiful language I have ever heard. I wanted to learn it, so that I  could understand what he was saying to the others.

I tightened my arm grip around his neck, seeking his warmth. I did not want to part  with him just yet, because he seemed like a nice person. I felt him respond by shifting his arm  under my weight, drawing me closer, as he placed his cheek against my forehead. He rocked  and bounced slightly on his feet, as though I was a baby in his arms. But I noticed the  edginess in his voice.

I guessed he was either bargaining or arguing with the other men because he suddenly  raised his voice a notch higher. He was not pleased with something they said.

We then moved again. With the blindfold still on, I was unable to see where we were  going.

When he lowered me to sit, my buttocks met what felt like cool leather. I jumped  slightly at the first contact. I then felt a strap being brought across my body just below my  breasts and another one across my waist. A sound escaped from my lips - a whimper and a  protest- muffled by the gag over my mouth. I felt someone remove the gag almost  immediately, and I found myself breathing easier.

My blindfold soon followed. I had to squint against the bright light that bathed the  room. But even before my eyes could adjust to my surroundings, I felt my feet being lifted up  and placed onto the stirrups, and my ankles strapped in. I struggled against my restraints.

"No!" I whimpered.

Suddenly, a masked face loomed over me. The Japanese man’s voice came on as he  tried to shush and comfort me.

"Daijōbudesu," He repeated the word as his hands caressed my arms up and down.

I then felt my legs being spread apart as the stirrups were pushed to the sides. I tried to  sit up, straining my neck to see who was at my feet and doing what. A wave of shock came  over me when I saw another man in a white coat peering down in-between my legs with his  headlamp on. A doctor presumably. Was he going to check me down there? What on earth  would he be checking for? That I was still a virgin?

My mind reeled from the thought. I shook my head from side to side as I let out another  protest. But when I squirmed in my seat, I felt the masked man’s hand on my chin, steadying  it.

"Watashiwomite," He spoke to me gently.

I could not understand what he was saying, but he kept his gaze trained on me. When I  tried to turn my head, he held my chin in place, and repeated to me, "Watashiwomite." I was  forced to look at him in the eyes.

Keep your eyes on me, maybe that was what he meant.

He then placed one hand on my sternum as he timed the rise and fall of my chest, so  that I breathed in and out according to the pace he set.

I began to relax under his soothing voice and his gentle touch until I felt the cold metal  probing my entrance and slid in. I immediately tensed and jerked backward. The device was  thankfully lubricated, but still felt uncomfortable all the same. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Daijōbudesu," The masked man started again. It occurred to me that he was probably  trying to comfort me, telling me that everything was going to be alright.

When I opened my eyes, a single tear fell from the corner of my left eye. I could not  help it. I bit my lip as the doctor cranked up the device, stretching my vagina open. The  masked man then left my side for a while, and when he returned seconds later, I felt the  device loosen and pulled out of me completely. He wiped the tears from my cheeks with his  thumb and rubbed my arms up and down as though to warm me up, as he slowly released me  from my bonds.

I immediately curled up in a fetal position as soon as I was free, and he hugged me  close. He then covered me with his cloak and lifted me up. I was not even aware of where he  was carrying me to, since I quickly buried my face against his chest until I felt the cool night  air hit my skin.

I looked up to see us standing outside an old, majestic colonial building with tall  supporting pillars on either sides of us. As I took a peek from underneath the cloak, I realized  with a start that apart from the Japanese man, there were many others who wore masks. In  fact, all of them had their faces covered. Maybe the auction was an exclusive private event  attended by public figures who did not want their identities known. After all, a slave auction  was illegal in most, if not all, countries.

The Japanese man soon hailed a car, and I was surprised to see a limousine pull up  shortly in front of us. My Master must be someone well-off, I thought. I wondered how much  money he had spent during the auction to purchase me. He did not seem to have bought  anyone else.

He let me down on the ground as the limo door opened, but my legs gave way, and I  clung to him for support. He quickly picked me up again and crouched low as he placed me  on the soft limo seat before I scooted to the other side, giving him some room to enter. Once  inside, he pulled me across his lap and placed his arms around me once again.

As the limo lurched into motion, he then reached out across me to grab a bottle of  alcoholic drink with Japanese words written on it. He popped open the cap, and poured the  content into a glass before handing it to me.

"Nonde," He said to me softly, all the while observing me as I took a sip of the liquor. It  tasted sweet and delicious, and it soon warmed more than just my throat. I began to feel hot  all over.

He then ripped open a packet of biscuits and tried to feed me. Heat crept over my face.

"I can feed myself. Thank you," I smiled sheepishly at him. I did not know if he  understood what I was saying. He did not seem to speak any English.

I then took the biscuit from his hand. When I popped it into my mouth, my eyes  widened in shock. I could not help but gushed over it for it tasted so good.

"Yum," I muttered out loud.

The biscuit was savory, but I had never tasted anything like it before. It tingled all my  taste buds the right way. There was a word for it in biology, umami, I suddenly remembered.  It also happened to be a Japanese word.

I took a quick glance at my protector. It was pretty dark inside the limo. The only light  illuminating his face came from outside the car, red and bluish colors from the streetlamps  and LED displays that our limo passed by. He was still observing me, scrutinizing me, and I  suddenly felt self-conscious under his intense gaze.

I gulped. It was time to test my theory.

"Shujin-sama," Master, I addressed him coyly. If he was truly the one who has bought  me, then he would acknowledge this word at the very least.

He laughed softly then, the corners of his mouth upturned in a wicked grin.

He then flattened me against his chest and whispered in my ear, "Hai, toriko." I only  learned much later that the word meant my captive.

Chapter Two

Alec

Two weeks prior

Time check. 5 minutes to 7:00.

I performed my countersurveillance routines as I did my usual stretches in the park.  Side lat stretch, left footpath deserted. Upper trap stretch, right footpath empty. Levator  scapula stretch, no homeless bum or other joggers. Squat to pike, a couple of elderly ladies in  the distance doing Tai Chi to the beat of relaxing music. Finally, lunges, no other suspicious  movement. All clear.

I dialed the designated number on my cell phone.

"Welcome to the Grand Hotel. How may I assist you?" A friendly female voice came  on.

"This is POSTMAN. I have come to deliver some goods," I muttered into the  mouthpiece.

"Please wait a moment. I will put you through," She continued, before the musical  tunes played out.

Seconds later, I heard K’s angry voice on the other side of the line.

"Jesus, Alec, where are you?"

"In a park," I answered casually.

"You need to come back to the Embassy right now. Cease all operations, and report  back to Tanaka. That is an order. Do you hear me?" The woman was fuming.

"I have some intel for you. Do you want it or not?" Now that I was out of prison and  working from inside the Yakuza, she wanted me to pull out. Lady, not a chance.

"Yes, but you need to stop whatever you’re doing right now. You know how much  trouble you’ve gotten me into? I have to answer directly to people at Langley since I was the  one who assigned you to Japan!"

"There is a big meeting coming up in Tokyo in a couple of days," I interrupted her, "The leaders of the Long Group from Shanghai are coming over to discuss something. Ryo  Yagamoto invited me to attend. I am going."  

I spoke hurriedly. I glanced at the clock. Five minutes were almost up before my  handler could pinpoint my location.

"Are you listening to me? You are..," K sounded hysterical right now.

I cut her off mid-sentence, "My terms, K. Not yours. If you have assets on the ground,  ask them to check when the girls will be arriving, will you? I’ll call again when I finish the  meeting, not before."

I pressed on the onscreen button ending the call abruptly. Removing the back cover and  the battery, I inserted a new SIM card into the slot.

The CIA. Bah, did they even care if there were casualties in this silent war?

The answer was no. The bureaucrats sitting in their ivory tower, giving orders while  we, the people on the ground, battling it out everyday. Would they bat an eyelid if the girls  died? If Cathy died? Hell no. They would just become a number, a statistic in their goddamn  weekly reports. That’s what it would come to if one did not take things into his own hands.

So, I’d done it. I had jeopardized my own career, or at least, set it back a couple of  years. My first transgression was not sleeping with Cathy, but keeping her by my side, raising  suspicion, thereby compromising my cover. I requested another assignment in Japan to  follow her when she and the other girls were sold to the Yakuza, the Japanese mafia. And  now, I disregarded orders to stay put in the embassy, doing paperwork for the CIA. Instead, I  infiltrated the Yakuza by getting close to the mafia boss’ son, so I could know when and  where to rescue Cathy once she arrived in Japan.

Some might laugh and say that I did it all for the sake of one girl. No, this was bigger  than that.

I did not deny that Cathy meant the world to me. But I did it because it was the right  thing to do. For once in my eight years working for the CIA, I finally went with my gut rather  than doing what was required of me. And boy, it felt good.

I sidestepped a tabby cat as I jumped onto the sidewalk on the way back to my car. I  shivered slightly. It was late February in Japan, and there was still a lingering trace of winter

weather. I was slightly numb from the waist down, although I was wearing long johns  underneath my jogging pants.

After starting the car, I turned up the heater to full blast. Checking the dashboard, I  noted the car still held slightly less than a gallon of fuel. I would probably need to head to the  gas station sometime this week. Japanese hybrid cars were so efficient, running at a rate of  about 50 to 60 mpg. I quickly turned on the GPS navigation system, and typed in my  destination.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, the car’s speakers announced an incoming call. The  GPS screen flashed, "Ryo Y, Answer Call, Yes or No?"

I tapped on the Answer Phone button on the steering wheel, and his voice echoed  through the car, "Moshi, moshi."

"Moshi, moshi," I replied back.

"Senpai, let’s meet at my father’s house this morning. 9 a.m. sharp. We are holding a  meeting with leaders of the Nakajima-gumi regarding that future trip to Tokyo," Ryo spoke  enthusiastically in Japanese. He reminded me of how young I once was.

Sure thing, I replied to him.

"Don’t be late," He added, before ending the call.

Now that the Nakajima-gumi was involved, something big must be at hand. Nakajima gumi was the largest Yakuza family in Japan, larger than the Yagamoto-kai, Ryo’s greater  family. They accounted for almost 30 percent of all Yakuza members in the country. The  Nakajima oyabun (lit. translation family boss) has been involved in several major drug  dealings both within Japan and internationally. They had also close relationships with large  corporations, and through their investments, exerted some control over the Japanese stock  market.

Considered more of a nuisance now rather than overt criminals, Takeshi Nakajima the  boss had a longstanding love-and-hate relationship with the Japanese police force. Hideo  Yagamoto, Ryo’s father, oyabun of the Yagamoto-Kai, similarly had friends among lower ranking officials. It would not have been possible for Ryo and me to be released on bail  otherwise.

I sighed. I would have to see how it will play out this morning. It was time to head  back, shower, and meet with Ryo-kun for the umpteenth time.

As I neared the Yagamoto’s compound, which served as their Headquarters, I parked a  long distance away from the main entrance. A row of Mercedes-Benz black sedans were  parked along the brick walls surrounding the compound, a designated parking spot for guests  and higher members of the family. It was ironic that they used a European car as a symbol of  status and power, considering that Japan boasted several of the largest car manufacturers in  the world.

Time check. Fifteen minutes to nine.

I walked briskly towards the entrance in my formal attire. Everyone wore business suits  to important meetings, even the henchmen. I caught sight of Ryo waving at me from a  distance.

As I neared him, I felt the others’ eyes bore on me. The rest of the henchmen did not  like me very much. They still considered me an outsider, although I was close to their boss’  son. They probably thought it was hasty to include me in these meetings. I had to try to keep  a low profile now, and not stick out like a sore thumb. I had to stay with the plan until Cathy  arrived, and maybe by then, there was a plan B.

I bowed my head low when I reached Ryo and addressed him formally. He bowed  likewise, before grabbing my elbows, leading me through the oak double doors.

As I stepped through the maze of the Yagamoto’s minka, Japanese traditional house, I  was struck time and again by the simplicity and serenity the place conveyed. Outside, a  manservant was busy making concentric patterns in the massive Zen garden with his rake.  The sand garden was dotted here and there with dancing bonsai trees, similarly attended by  hired gardeners who paid meticulous attention to details.

I walked in Ryo’s wake, always mindful of my position as a "nobody", someone with  no rank whatsoever in the Yakuza.

Once we reached the meeting room, I saw that everyone was already seated on the long  table atop the tatami floor. Hideo Yagamoto and Takeshi Nakajima were talking closely to  each other over breakfast. The two men were already in their sixties, one had slightly more  hair than the other, but none sported a beer belly typical of men their age. The Japanese had  one of the longest life expectancies in the world.

I stayed outside the room, kneeling behind the slightly ajar fusuma sliding doors. My  view was partially obscured, but I could still catch a whiff of their conversation as the wind  was blowing in my direction.

"What do the Chinese want?" Hideo asked Takeshi.

"They are planning something. World domination of some sort," Takeshi snorted. "They are an ambitious group of people," Hideo mused.

"So were we, at one point in history," Takeshi retorted back at him.

"In this world. The strong lives and the weak are weeded out eventually," He continued.

Social Darwinism, I thought. The worst concept invented by mankind. It totally missed  the point of Charles Darwin’s "survival of the fittest" in evolutionary biology. It had also led  humans to commit acts of atrocities against their own, including what happened in Nazi  Germany. There was nothing more dangerous than an idea. And nothing more destructive  than an idea falling into the wrong hands.

My dad once told me that you should strive to be a good person first, then success  would naturally come to you. It would have cast some doubt in his mind if he were to see  what I have seen in my line of work. These people - the Servas in California, the Long group  in China, and the Yakuza - they were ruthless people, and here they were, basking in their  glories and riches. How many people could have lived large like them? How many people  would have gladly traded lives with them? It was not because they were stronger than the  others to have come so far. It was because they simply did not care about the consequences of  their actions on others. The lack of a conscience seemed to be a requirement when it came to  climbing the social ladder, wherever you were.

The mention of slave girls suddenly snapped me back from my wandering thoughts.  They were talking about Cathy and the girls now.

"We are going to hold an auction soon, after the trip to Tokyo. If you could grace us  with your presence, we would be really grateful," Hideo requested politely.

"Naturally," came Takeshi’s terse reply.

"There were the regular girls from Southeast Asia - Filipinos, Thais. The Long Group  said that they would be sending some girls over. This time from the US, I heard," Ryo spoke  up when signaled by his father.

"This is Ryo, my youngest son," Hideo introduced the boy to Takeshi. No doubt, it was  because of Takeshi’s only daughter. A marriage between the two would strengthen the  alliance between the two Yakuza families, and smooth out any existing tension between  them.

I eyed the eighteen-year-old boy, who seemed just as clueless about his predicament as  to the political maneuvers at play. It was time to stop mucking about in that BDSM dungeon  of yours, Ryo-kun, and started taking responsibilities in the adult world. I was laughing  silently at him.

I then caught the eyes of Megumi, Ryo’s older sister. She was throwing not-so-subtle  glances at me. She had her father’s eyes and her mother’s nose and chin, while Ryo had them  the other way around. No two siblings could have looked more different.

I averted my gaze from her. The truth was, there is only one person in the world who  could pique my interest.

Cathy was the only remedy to my vices. The thought of meeting her again was the only  thing that prevented me from drinking myself into oblivion.

I was lucky to still have copies of those porn videos that I shot with her back in  California. I still remembered the way her body had felt underneath mine, the vulnerable look  on her face, the way her moans had filled my ears when I entered her. Those plump lips, the  soft swells of her breasts, the musky smell of her sex when she was aroused. I often jerked off  to the videos that we had shot together.

I desperately wanted her, still want her, would always want her.

I missed seeing her in those cute t-shirts and jeans back in our studio, missed the way  her eyebrows furrow when she sat reading on our bed, missed our cuddles and snuggles. Her  cooking could use some improvement, but hey, at least what she cooked was edible. I was not  a better cook than her myself.

When I opened the app, the GPS tracker that I had placed on her barrel to track her  movement told me that she was still on course atop the Chinese ship. I hoped, against all  hopes, that she was still alive and safe.

Hang in there, Cathy. I am coming for you.

Chapter Three

Cathryn

My Master took me to some sort of a theme hotel. Like one of those boutique hotels  back in San Francisco.

After we stepped out of the limo, he spoke hurriedly to the driver through the front  window. To which, the latter touched his cap in salutation and rolled the window back up  before driving away. Entering the hotel was like entering a resort in a tropical island, with  ferns guarding the main entrance on either sides, outdoor water fountains, and low stone  garden lamps. The lobby area was even more impressive with a spacious waiting area, but  strangely, there was no reception desk in sight. My jaw dropped as I took in my surroundings.  The place felt surreal after having my senses muted for the past couple of hours with the  blindfold.

There was a free drink station to the side, with three vending machines. I suppressed an  urge to venture towards it, for my Master suddenly stopped in front of a display. I saw  numbered rooms with pictures presented on the screen, and buttons next to them. The rooms  looked nice and themed as well. There was one called Pink Fantasy, where all the decor and  furniture were in pink. There was another called Chessmaster, where the floor was a  checkerboard, and there were life-size chess pieces. Apparently, you could just select your  room from the screen and make payments electronically, which my Master did. However, I  could not see over his tall broad shoulders which room he has chosen for us.

When he finished, he led me by the hand to the elevators. His big warm hand enclosed  my small cold one. I noticed his long, slender fingers as he swiped the room key card, and  pressed for the sixteenth floor. His tattoos came all the way to his wrist, peeking underneath  the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt. He was dressed in a full black and white dinner suit,  complete with a necktie. He was quiet throughout the whole elevator ride, and his silence  unnerved me somewhat. It was worsened by the fact that he still had his mask on, and I could  not read his expression.

I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing underneath his cloak,  not even panties. I squirmed and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. At one point,  he rubbed his thumb gently over my knuckles, and I felt a slight shiver run through my body.  I thought he notice it, too, for he smiled under his half-face mask. Luckily, he did not say  anything and kept staring ahead.

I wondered if we were going to have sex that night. That must be what I was bought  for, right? How I wished I can bargain with him for a couple more days, because I was really tired from my journey across the sea, from my ordeals for the past couple of hours,  particularly from kneeling and lying on the cold floor the whole evening. On top of that, I  still felt jet-lagged, although I did not take an airplane to come to Japan.

When the elevator speaker announced our arrival on the 16th floor and the elevator  doors opened with a ding, he led me across the dim hallway. There were frangipani flowers in  vases set atop mahogany desks across the hallway. Their sweet smell permeated the air.

When we reached room 1612, my Master stopped and inserted the key card to the  holder. As he entered the room, he took off his shoes and set it next to the mat before  climbing up the short flight of steps into the room. I followed suit since it was the obvious  thing to do.

The room itself was a marvelous sight to behold! It was designed to create a romantic  atmosphere. The king-sized poster bed was decorated with white, semi-transparent canopy  curtains. There were orchid flowers scattered on top of the duvet. The room also boasted a  leather sofa bed, a glass coffee table, a massage chair, and a plasma TV mounted on the wall.  A champagne bottle sat inside an ice bucket on top of the coffee table. I did not realize my  gaping mouth, until I heard a toilet being flushed somewhere behind me. My Master had  gone to relieve himself, while I was marveling at the bedroom.

I felt the sudden urge to pee myself, and rushed to where the sound was coming from,  and bumped, nose first, against my Master’s hard chest. Ow! I silently cursed as I rubbed my  nose. He chuckled as I looked up at him with teary eyes.

"I need to go to the toilet," I muttered as I pointed behind him. I did not know what the  word toilet was in Japanese, and made a gesture as though mimicking having water coming  out of my....and then stopped short, realizing how silly I must have looked. When he nodded,  I rushed past him and searched for the toilet. It was separate from the bathroom.

Once inside, I sat on the toilet seat and went about my business. It was then that I  noticed the panels on my left. By God, there were so many of them. What on earth were they  for? There was one button with a picture of a butt and a spray of water. Maybe that was for  the bidet. But there was nothing like that around me, no nozzle of some sort inside the toilet  bowl as I looked in-between my legs. Then again, which one of them could I use to flush the  toilet? As I sat there confused, I did not notice the passing time.

I must have taken a while for there was soon a knock on the toilet door, and it suddenly  flung upon. Shit, I forgot to lock it! I caught my Master’s eyes and quickly closed my knees.  My cheeks felt so hot.

I started to protest at his intrusion, but he immediately walked across and pressed the  rightmost button on the panel. I jumped slightly as the toilet seat warmed my butt cheeks. So,  that was what THAT button was for.

"Daijobudesuka?" His warm voice floated to me.

I looked up to him then, and immediately noticed our power differentials. Him towering  over me, glaring down, fully clothed, while I was sitting in front of him, half-naked, exposed,  and vulnerable. Luckily, he did not laugh at my predicament and he seemed to understand my  difficulty with the panels for he pressed what would be the flush button next. The water  

flushed beneath me, and he turned on his heels, giving me a private moment to myself.

As I washed my hands on the sink, I stared at the rows upon rows of free amenities on  the bathroom shelves. It was like walking into a girl’s dream haven- they were filled with all  sorts of face masks, face cream, and cleansing gel. There were also bottles of massage oils,  body lotion, and bath salts. In addition to the usual toothbrushes, shower caps, and hand soap,  there was also a hairdryer and a curling iron mounted on the wall. I did not even know where  to begin. I wanted to try all of them! But I had a sinking feeling that I must wait until  tomorrow because my Master might be waiting for me right then. This is not a holiday trip,  Cathy, I scolded myself.

When I stepped out of the toilet, I could hear water splashing in the bathroom next  door. It seemed that my Master was not going to ask me to join him in his bath, thank God!  So I waited for my turn to shower and set about exploring the bedroom instead.

There were more panels and switches near the bed. Apparently, they were for changing  the lighting in the room to create different moods. I tapped on a button, and the room turned a

purplish hue, then a darker shade of pink as I tapped on another. There were also buttons for  ambient music, the sound of a waterfall or birds chirping in a forest. I marveled at the  meticulous details with which the Japanese paid attention to their hotel services.  

Then my attention was caught by the box of amenities above the panels. I reached out  for the brightly coloured packets and blushed when I realized what they were. Flavoured  condoms! I rummaged through the box, and my eyes widened at the sight of a teardrop shaped vibrator! There was also a pair of eye masks provided inside the box.

A packet of condom fell on the ground from the box, and I hastily bent down to pick it  up, when I noticed the vending machine within the bedside table below the panels. It was a  sex toy vending machine! It displayed dildos for the price of ¥2700, more vibrators, and a big  wand looking thing. My head was spinning. What kind of hotel would be so blatant about its  use as a sex den?

When I stood up, another thing soon amazed me. As I peered through the canopy  curtains, I saw the mirror mounted on the ceiling on top of the bed. So, I guessed whoever  was facing up can watch herself/himself in the mirror while having sex.

I walked shakily over to the sofa bed and poured myself a glass of water from the  dispenser, for my mouth has suddenly gone dry. That was when I noticed the menu boards  below the coffee table. I flipped open the first one, which was a Room Service menu detailing  all sorts of mouth-watering dishes.

When I took the second one to read, I was shocked to see pictures of Japanese girls in  maid dresses and school uniforms with price tags next to them. So, they even provide escort  services, I silently thought. My Master must have known this, but why did he have to go to an  auction to get someone, who would undoubtedly be much more expensive than hiring one of  these girls?

I suddenly had a sinking feeling. Maybe he thought I am a virgin, or maybe he thought  of me as exotic since I was not Japanese.

I was still holding the escort menu when I heard somebody clear his throat near the  doorway. I looked up to see my Master standing there, with a Japanese robe on, his mask still  covering his face, a towel on top of his dripping wet hair. I closed the menu shut,  embarrassed at being caught ogling at the escort girls and returned it to its rightful place.

"I am going to take a shower, if you don’t mind," I announced, louder than I intended. I  stood up immediately and walked briskly past him to get to the bathroom.

The bathroom held a spacious jacuzzi bathtub, a shower, and again, full amenities. It  felt damp and hot, because of my Master’s recent use. There was a residual fresh minty smell,  probably from the shampoo that he used. There were tall bottles of shampoo, shower gel, and  body lotion, not the usual small packets or tubs of them like provided by most hotels that I  had stayed in the past. The hotel management must be very generous people. I wondered how  much it cost my Master to spend a night here because surely, the hotel would lose money if  all the guests used copious amounts of these free products.

I then noticed a transparent door to my far right. It led to an outdoor patio of some sort,  and when I opened it, I realized that I have entered another bathroom, with an open rooftop.  There was another jacuzzi bathtub, this time, however, made of stone. There was also a  wooden bucket and a sauna stove next to it. I could see the star-studded night sky from where  I was standing. If this kind of setting, with two bathrooms, is commonplace in Japanese  hotels, whew, they surely must like bathing very much.

Torn between too many options, I ended up having a quick shower standing. There was  a stool and a pail on the bathroom floor, but I did not know what they were used for. Besides,  I did not want to keep my Master waiting. I needed to speak to him. Maybe I could have a  jacuzzi bath tomorrow morning if the situation permitted it.

I let out a gasp when I returned to the bedroom. There was already food served on the  table and my Master was waiting for me. What a spread it was! There were appetizer, main  course, and dessert- sausages and French fries, bento boxes with tempura and curry, miso  soup, and thick toasts topped with glazed berries. I think he ordered for more than two  people.

He tapped on the leather sofa bed next to him, beckoning me to sit there. When I did, he  simply shoved a bento box on my hand and said, "Itadakimasu!"  

I just nodded to him, muttered my thank you, and started grappling with my chopsticks.  I was getting better at holding my chopsticks since Alec had taught me how to use them back  in San Francisco. I chewed my food slowly, savoring every taste. It was the most delicious  Japanese food I have ever eaten- the tempura batter was light and crispy, the rice was savory  because it had toppings on it, the curry was light and runny, quite different from the thick  Indian curry that I usually ate. Maybe the Japanese do not use coconut milk, I pondered.

My Master poured me a glass of champagne, but I shook my head in refusal. I had to  stay sober tonight, lest he decide to take advantage of me.

He did not force me to drink. Neither did he lay his hands on me, while I was enjoying  my food. I was grateful for that.

When I could not stomach any more food, I set aside my bento box and plates. I felt like hitting the pillow then - food coma. But my Master placed one of the cushions on the  floor, grabbed hold of my upper arms, and pushed me down to kneel on it.

"Kneel," He instructed with a slight Japanese accent. That was the first time I heard him  speak an English word.

I thought he wanted me to assume one of the submissive positions. So I sat on my  knees, straightened my back and placed my hands behind it, like how the cruel matron had  taught me and the other girls. I cast my eyes to the floor, since it was considered rude to look  at your Dominant (Dom) in that position.

"Very good," He praised me in English for doing it correctly.

I was about to ask him permission to speak, when he grabbed hold of my Japanese robe  and undid the belt, before priying the lapels open. The sudden movement surprised me, and I  grabbed hold of his wrists instinctively. He swatted my hands off and opened the front of my  robes, only to close it again. I realized then that he only switched the position, left side of the  robe over right. I had worn it right side over left. I only found out much later that it was  

customary for Japanese to wear the lapels left over right, since right over left was only done  for corpses during funerals.

My Master then extended his right hand for me to take, as he helped me to my feet. He  then guided me towards the bed.

I tugged on his hand and quickly protested, "I am tired." He glanced back at me, and  without saying a word, tucked me into bed, and kissed me on the forehead like a child. I  blushed. I knew I looked young, but not that young.

"Oyasumi," He spoke gently.

He then went around to the other side, and switched all the lights off, before plopping  down on the bed. I fell asleep almost immediately after smelling the pillows. Sometime  during the night, I felt him place his arm around my waist and drew my body close to his. I  let him because I was too tired to ward him off.

Chapter Four

Alec

I tried to breathe as much as I could through the gaps in the men (headpiece) of  my bōgu. I hated the tunnel vision created by the protective headgear. Too many blind spots,  too many openings once we started again. My face fit snugly into the uchiwa (face padding),  with no gaps in-between, making it all the more suffocating. My hair, slick with sweat, was  plastered to my forehead. I felt hot even after just 15 minutes of sparring. I felt like taking the  whole damn thing off.

Where would he be coming from next? Which direction? Seconds ticked by in  anticipation. I was afraid even to blink. I might miss the cue to his next move.

I stared at Ryo taking a stance in front of me, covered from head to toe in his similarly  black and dark blue uniform. I twirled the kodachi (short sword) in my left hand, as I gripped  my katana (long sword) tightly in my right. My wrists were aching even after the short bout  of exercise.

Then I saw it coming.

For a split second, his left foot stepped forward.

Suddenly, he was in my space. I did not even see him unsheath his sword or close the  distance between us. Shukuchi, Ryo’s footwork was the best I have ever encountered. He  could move in and out of my range with lightning speed.

I barely parried the first head-on attack, clank, before the next one came. A slash across  the chest. Stepping back, evading the edge of the sword, making a half-circle arc with  my katana to deflect his blow, then closing in the distance, I aimed the kodachi to his waist. I  let my body took over. Muscle memory. Months of training back in the dōjō in California.  Adrenaline surged through my veins.

But even then, I was no match for the agile boy in front of me. He deflected  my kodachi with his saya (scabbard).

Ok. I didn’t see that coming.

So, we are equal now. Two weapons, one in each hand.

I thought that using the Niten Ichi-ryū, a double sword technique invented by the  swordsman Miyamoto Musashi, would have given me a slight upper hand, considering that I  was not as skilled with the sword compared to my opponent - having only trained  in kendo mostly, and skimmed through my kenjutsu classes. Ryo, on the other hand, was a  pro. He had trained for the sole purpose of combat from the first day of his sword practice.

He was so skilled that he could switch his aim mid-attack, making his next move highly  unpredictable.

He was relentless in his onslaught, and I soon staggered backward. Time to switch  tactics - no more defensive moves, it was my turn to attack now.

Alternating between fast and slow movements, I aimed to confuse him for a while,  before reverse gripping my kodachi. Spinning three times on my axis, I pushed him back, as  my katana and kodachi slashed repeatedly through the thin space between us, missing their  target. As a final desperate move, I threw my short sword at him, aiming for his shoulder.

Missed again.

He evaded it just as easily.

It hit the opposite wall instead, stuck there, until I could get my hands back on it again.  So much for dealing him my special move.

I then saw Ryo took off his men and approached me. The session has ended. I have lost  yet again - we both knew it was over even before we began. I was no match for the boy’s  samurai sword-wielding skill. I proceeded to take off my headgear likewise before bowing  low.

"Senpai, you need to brush up on your kenjutsu," Ryo grinned at me, looking smug.

I scratched my head, my scalp was getting itchy. If it’s judo, I could take him on any  day. Hand-to-hand combat was more of my thing.

"Yoroshiku onegaishimasu," I look forward to your guidance, I answered him  respectfully.

"Maybe we should use the shinai (bamboo sword) next time," I added as I reclaimed  my kodachi and inspected the damage it had created on the dōjō wall.

After all, I needed this exercise more than he did. Ryo seemed to sense it as well.

I needed to let off some steam. I needed an escape. Something to distract me from all  these bottled up feelings that I held inside. 

Ryo had voiced his concerns over my well-being. He suspected that if it had not been  for the training sessions, I would drown in booze whenever we went for karaoke every other  night. Our favorite hangout place was a karaoke bar right smack in the middle of downtown  Osaka. We usually headed there after our training sessions ended. They served good food and  since it was nomihoudai (all you can drink), it was unfortunately conducive to fuelling one’s  drinking habits. Ryo would bring me and a couple of other henchmen along with him - the  Yagamotos took care of their members very well.

The air was already thick with smoke as Shouta, Ryo’s right-hand man, sang his voice  hoarse to the tune of My Heart Will Go On. More like hollered rather than sang, actually.  Maybe that was what accounted for the popularity of karaoke in Japan- to sing one’s heart  out, to pour one’s misery out. I refused politely when he finished his song and handed me the  mic. I was not much of a singer myself.  

Instead, I reached for the cigarette pack on the coffee table in front of me. I flipped the  box around in my hand absent-mindedly. I frowned. They still had not banned menthol  cigarettes here, it seemed, just like in the US.

A hand soon clapped my back. Ryo scooted over next to me. He had his other arm  around an escort for hire.  

"Senpai, you don’t seem to look happy these days," He commented, "Maybe it’s because  you don’t get enough action, y’know."

I shot him a half-hearted smile. True enough, it’s been almost a month since I last had  sex. Cathy would not be due to arrive until another week. First, there was that trip to Tokyo  in two days. I was feeling agitated for some reasons. I usually did not have premonitions, but  somehow I had a bad feeling about this one. Or maybe it was because I had failed once in  rescuing her, now the thought of failing a second time was just too much to bear. One week  did not feel like it would come soon enough.

Ryo gestured to one of the girls, "Yui-chan here, she give great heads. Maybe you  should try her."

I let my gaze roamed over Yui’s body. Big-breasted, doe-eyed young girl with pale,  creamy skin. Probably a highschooler from the look of her. Her hair was tied back in pigtails.  She looked at me shyly. These Japanese escort girls. They were very polite and subdued, so  unlike their American counterparts. Maybe that was part of the appeal.

I heaved a sigh. Yea, I guessed one blowjob cannot do any harm.

We excused ourselves to go to the toilet. I was just about to let down my zipper, with  Yui-chan kneeling in front of me, when the door suddenly flung open. A group of Japanese  men, all dressed in black, crowded outside the door. A quick glance at the symbols sown onto  their breast pockets told me that they were part of the Murakami-kai, a rival yakuza clan to  the Yagamotos. Their boss was not in good terms with Hideo Yagamoto.

"Oi! We need to use the toilet," A young guy in the front spoke, revealing his  yellowing, crooked teeth. It was obvious that he was picking a fight. He was deliberately  rude.

I thought about the consequences of speaking back to him, before I decided that it was  really not worth it. Technically speaking, this was not their turf. It was a neutral zone. Even I  know as much as that. But if I retaliated and started a fight here, there would be further  bloodshed if they knew that I belonged to the Yagamoto-Kai. Furthermore, Ryo and the other  men was just around the corner. I finally decided against it.

I quickly helped Yui-chan stand up and guided her out of the toilet. However, a hand  immediately shot out to prevent our departure.

"The girl stays," The guy leered at me, his breath reeked of alcohol.

"She’s mine for the night," I looked at him squarely. There was no way I was going to  leave Yui-chan in the hands of these drunk hooligans.

"The girl stays," He repeated again, slower this time, as he glared at me.  I did some quick thinking.

"How about I pay you so that I can have her, and you can get someone else for  tonight?" I offered. If there was one thing I learned in life, it was that money could solve all  your problems. Money made the world go round.

The guy looked at me as though I was an idiot, but did not protest as I took out my  wallet and fished out all the bills inside. About ten thousand yen.

"Here," I shoved them into his hands and dragged Yui-chan away from the crowd,  before he could change his mind.  

When we returned to our karaoke room, neither of us mentioned anything to Ryo. Yui chan looked at me sheepishly, before muttering, "Arigatou," her thank you to me.

I returned to my apartment unit alone that night. I did not feel like taking up Yui-chan’s  offer to stay over. I was not drunk enough that night.  

I plopped down on the sofa, before opening my laptop. After clicking on the "file  explorer" icon on the bottom taskbar, I selected the folder marked Our Videos. Scrolling  down the list of mp4 files, my eyes went through all the available options:

The horny housewife- Missionary with spooning

Billionaire sugar daddy- Piledriver, spooning, handcuffs, and vibrators

Ticket for speeding - Fellatio, cowgirl, car backseat

Having the hots for your neighbor - Reverse Cowgirl, handcuffs, mirror The courtesan’s lover- Lotus Flower, Fellatio

, and the list went on.

My favorite has always been "The professor and the student". There was more BTS  (Behind-the-Scenes) compared to the other unedited videos, where Cathy and I had joked and  teased each other. We also had sex in front of the mirror, so I could see everything.  

I double-clicked on the mousepad, selecting the video, and Cathy’s face came onscreen.  I stared at her image - soft brown tresses framing her face, her hazel green eyes, her soft  plump lips slightly pinkish from the lip gloss that she usually wore.  

"Hey, hotshot," She called out before giggling to herself.

"Hey to you, too," The present-day me muttered to no one in particular.

"You know what, Alec. I can’t do this. Why would she be seducing her professor to  raise her grades?" She suddenly crossed her arms in front of her, pouting.  

"She’s smart and perfectly capable of getting high scores by herself," She continued to  protest, "This is misogynistic point of view."

I then appeared in the video, holding some papers in my hand, wearing a suit and a pair  of fake glasses, looking the part.

"Because....," The video me replied," Why else would they get it on? He had less  motivation than her to have a sexual relationship, considering what’s at stake. She, on the  other hand, had a lot to gain from this. Mindblowing sex with a hot professor, and a chance to  boost her grades. I think it’s women empowerment."

Cathy rolled her eyes, "So now you are calling yourself hot, huh?"

The video me then grabbed her around the waist and whispered in her ear, "You don’t  think so?" He then licked the area behind her ear. She screamed and tried to wiggle away  from him, laughing. I still remembered her shudder, how her body was so responsive to my  touch.

"Ok, ok," She conceded, and we took our respective positions before I did the  countdown.

"Three, two, one, action."

"Hey, hotshot," Cathy purred, before starting on her striptease. The video me looked up  from his papers, and leaned back against his chair, enjoying the view from over the top of his  glasses.  

Cathy kept her eyes trained on me. She was clad only in her t-shirt and skirt. She turned  around and wiggled her butts as she dropped her skirt to the floor, before glancing back over  her right shoulder to wink at me. She was getting more comfortable with performing in front  of the camera, I thought, since these were the last few videos that we shot together. The  present-day me could not help but get a massive erection. I unzipped my pants, held my cock  in my hand, and began stroking myself slowly. She was now down to her bra and panties. She  teased me by bending down, giving me a full view of her cleavage and a glimpse of her  dusky nipples. She unclasped the bra hook behind her, but still held the bra cups against her  chest.  

"Oops," She said, as she pretended for the bra to slip from her clutches, but pulling it up  again to cover her nipples. She was such a tease! She finally let her arms fall slowly to her  sides, and the bra uncovered the most perfect, perky breasts I have ever laid my hands on.

She began to tug at the edges of her panties as she swayed her hip left and right. When  her panties dropped to the floor, she straightened up and I could see clearly the soft brown  curls decorating her bushy mound.  

I swallowed hard and fast forwarded to the sex scene.  

We were on the bed. Cathy was on all fours, I was behind her. We were both facing the  mirror. She looked slightly embarassed, colors were rising on her cheeks.  

I pounded into her, and she lurched forward, her breasts dangling in front of her. She  moaned and closed her eyes with each thrust. I bent low, and reached out to grab her forehead and tilted her head backward, forcing her to open her eyes.

"Never take your eyes off the mirror," The video me growled in her ear, "I want you to  watch everything."

She whimpered.

I then cupped both of her breasts and increased the tempo of my thrusts. I kept my gaze  on her eyes through the mirror as I played with her nipples. I then reached down in-between  her legs to rub her clit.  

The sound of my balls slapping against Cathy’s backside, her moans, the smell of her  sex and mine. The memories of them made my present-day cock harder. I stroke myself  faster and faster with my hand, imagining the curl of my fingers as her tight hole. The  present-day me came all over my hands as the video me came inside Cathy, our cocks  pulsating, our moans echoed in unison through the empty apartment unit. I then grabbed a  tissue paper and cleaned myself up, as I watched Cathy twitched and jerked in front of the  camera. Her cheeks flushed, her cunt glistening, before my body covered hers and the video  ended with a black screen.  

Chapter Five

Cathryn

I woke up the next morning, finding an empty bed next to me. My Master was nowhere  to be seen. I called out to him, and was met with no reply. He must have left early for work.

So, that meant...I had the whole room to myself!

That was my first thought. Then my second thought was, how could I contact someone  back home to let them know my whereabouts? Maybe there was a telephone in the room, but  could I make an international call from there? After searching highs and lows, I still could not  figure out where the phone was, and finally decided to ask a receptionist downstairs, or room  service to make a collect call later on. I did not have a single penny with me.

But now onto the jacuzzi bath first, I thought cheerily. I gathered the bath salts and saw  that the hotel had provided the bubble bath mixtures as well. Naturally, I chose the semi outdoor jacuzzi bathtub. When I stepped out into the bathroom, cold, crisp air greeted me.  Was that typical morning weather mid-March in Japan, I wondered. A glance at the bedside  clock earlier had informed me that it was not even 8 a.m. yet. Sunlight streamed through the  open-air rooftop, providing some heat, but it was still not warm enough.

I turned on the showerhead hurriedly to fill up the bath tub with hot water. I was  suddenly afraid that my Master would return finding me taking a leisure bath. I poured all the  ingredients inside since I could not read any of the instructions on the packaging- they were  all in Japanese. White, puffy, cloud-like bubbles soon formed, and the rose scent of the bath  wafted through the air. I was aching to soak myself in warm water, so I stripped quickly and  stepped in.

I sighed contentedly when the water came up to my collarbones. Blowing some bubbles  into the air, I lifted my legs up and down underwater, feeling its resistance. I was finally able  to take a long, slow stretch, and felt my body relax. It felt so good after the past couple of  days! Luckily, the bath tub was long enough to accommodate my height. A taller person  would have had to bend his/her knees.

I soon discovered there was another panel nearby. The buttons were for adjusting the  mood lighting inside the tub. One could choose pink, purple, blue, or green color to light up  the interior of the jacuzzi bath. It would have been really pretty when lit up under the night  sky.  

Looking back, during my first few days in Japan, I felt like I had stepped into a  futuristic world, one that was often depicted in sci-fi books, with many things being  automated and electronically processed. I have often wondered if there was nothing in the  world that the Japanese has not yet invented. If there was not a new device or technology that  they have not conceived or thought of. Everything felt so efficient, and yet, the lack of human  interaction conveyed an acute sense of isolation. As I sat there on the bath tub by myself, I  could not help but feel lost and alone. My mind would then drift back to Alec.

Half an hour later, after my fingertips have gone all wrinkly, I was still reluctant to  move. I wrapped a towel around my trunk quickly, because as soon as I stood up, the cold air  stung my skin, setting up a trail of goosebumps down my arms and legs. I shivered and  hopped my way into the heated bathroom on the other side of the door. As I exited the  bathroom, I glanced around to see if my Master was back in the room. I peered into the  bedroom, found no one there, and breathed a sigh of relief.

While drying my hair, I spotted a bottle of "hair water" next to the bathroom sink. I  deduced that it was something that one sprayed on to one’s hair to prevent damage from using  a hairdryer. I also made it a point to curl my hair. I never owned a curling iron in my life, and  it was the first time I tried the device. I burned the sides of my face a couple of times, before  finally, getting the hang of it. After this was done, I barely recognized the person in the  mirror staring back at me. I looked even younger with my hair curled, my face seemingly  plumper, and my cheeks still rosy from the hot bath.

I was weighing my options as to which face mask I should try on first, when a noise  came from the direction of the front door, signaling that someone was about to enter. I hastily  returned everything to their respective places and went to greet my Master.

I certainly did not expect to see a middle-aged Japanese lady dressed in black flowery  kimono standing at the door. She was thin and quite short, coming up only to my chin, when I  approached her. She also had not-so-few strands of greying hair, and when she smiled, it  accentuated the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. She was holding a set of red kimono on  her arms.

"Are you Cathy-chan?" She spoke good English with a strong Japanese accent. "Yes...and you are?" I asked cautiously.

"I have been asked by your Shujin to take care of you while he is not around," She  spoke softly, "My name is Aiko. But in my workplace, you can call me Mama-san."

"Now if you will follow me," She added, before removing her shoes to enter the room.

"I think you should change into something more formal before we leave this place,"  She was eyeing my bathrobe.

"Would you like to have some breakfast while I changed my clothes?" I offered, trying  to be polite. I saw that there were still many plates of untouched food from last night.

"I have already had breakfast, but thank you for the offer," She replied and smiled at  me again, "Besides, I think you would need help with these."

She held out the kimono in her hands.

She then proceeded to help me with donning the kimono on, which turned out to be  quite an arduous process. She stripped me completely, before putting on a Japanese  undergarment on me, which she called nagajuban. It was like a kimono to my eyes, actually,  and I had no clue as to the difference between the two, except that the nagajuban was white  in color.

"Mama-san, do we not wear bra or panties underneath the kimono?" I asked out of  curiosity.

"Most Japanese women do now. But we don’t wear it back in my workplace.  Unfortunately, I have no panties or bra to lend you," She said, concentrating on smoothing  out the wrinkles on my garment. Next, she pulled the back of my collar down to expose the  nape of my neck. She then finished up by tying a sash around my waist, before putting on the  next layer, which was the red kimono with floral patterns. The material felt silky in my  hands.

The whole process of wearing traditional Japanese clothing was probably more  complicated than it looked, but Mama-san must have done this a thousand times, for it took  her less than fifteen minutes. She did it with such great ease, her fingers working deftly  across the fabric. Before long, she has finished tying a bow around my waist and turned me  around to scrutinize her handiwork.

"There," She gloated, "You look so beautiful now. Your Shujin would be pleased." "Are we going to see him now?" I was suddenly wary.

"No, he’d probably pick you up in the evening after his work," She answered.

I grabbed a quick bite before hurrying after Mama-san, who was obviously anxious to  get back to her work, whatever her job was. I did not have a chance to use the face masks, but  I took a couple with me and gave some to her. I also took several other amenities from the  room, but I left out the free vibrator. I did not know if I had any use for it, although it looked  like it was worth something. When we walked out of the hotel room, Mama-san made me  wear wooden sandals paired with strange-looking white socks, with a special socket for the  big toe, so that it jutted out to one side, separated from the rest of the toes. She called  them tabi. I stumbled for the first couple of steps, clearly not used to walking in these  Japanese flip-flops.

Mama-san then helped me complete the self check-out process. Similarly, there was no  receptionist this time to assist us, as was the case when we checked in last night. I wondered  if we would return to the same hotel later that night. When I asked about it, Mama-san

explained that the hotel we were staying at was one of the more luxurious love hotels in town.  True enough, I realized that they have hourly charges in addition to the option of charging for  the whole evening. I had frowned at Mama-san’s use of the term "love", maybe what she  meant was sex hotel.

"Your shujin must like you very much," She added, a note of envy in her voice. I did  not know how to reply to her- I barely knew the guy. We had spent a whole evening in  silence, although I figured out that he was not a cruel man.

She then ordered a taxi to go to another place, and I did not realize who Mama-san was  until we alighted in front of what looked like a row of quaint Japanese old townhouses with  wooden door frames. There were pictures of girls displayed outside the entrance with price  tags next to them. So, Mama-san ran a house of escorts, I thought silently. Later on, I would  find out that the place was a famous red-light district in Osaka, called Tobita Shinchi.

Even from the entrance to the house, I could see a girl on display. She wore a school  uniform of some sort and was busy playing with her cell phone when we entered. There was  no visitor in sight yet, as I looked down the empty narrow streets leading up to the  shophouse. Mama-san then approached another middle-aged woman who was sitting next to  the girl, possibly her substitute while she was away picking me up from the hotel. Unlike  Mama-san, this woman was quite heavy, and she left after throwing a quick glance at me.

The girl in school uniform looked up from her phone to me in surprise, as Mama-san  introduced us. I caught a term that she used to describe me, "Gaijin desuka?" which meant a  foreigner in Japanese.

Her name was Masaki, and she seemed relieved to hear that I was just there to visit, and  not to become an escort. Probably she did not want to have any competition. She seemed very  curious about my life back in the US when she found out that I was American, but I could not  communicate with her extensively due to her limited English vocabulary, and my inability to  

speak Japanese. If I had a phone, I might have been able to use Google Translate, but I  obviously had none. It was either because of this - I was getting increasingly frustrated with  not understanding people around me, or because I suddenly became curious about these  people - that I finally formed my resolve to learn as much Japanese as I could during my time  with Mama-san.

That day, she took me on a tour around her so-called "restaurant", ryoutei.  The ryoutei had three floors and about 2 rooms in each floor. Apart from futons (mattresses  that Japanese place on the floor to sleep in) and some shelves, the rooms tend to be quite  plain and sparsely furnished. They had an old, dingy feeling to them. I could barely imagine  the kind of things that transpired there between the girl downstairs and her clients. Much was  left to the imagination.

What was more surprising to me was finding out the prices for the services there. They  charged on a time basis - minutes to hours. When Mama-san told me that the shortest  duration was 20 minutes for $150, I could not hide the shock on my face. From there, it was  30 minutes for $210, 40 minutes for $310, and so on and so forth. I did not know that  prostitutes in Japan could make so much money! Furthermore, the customers sometimes  bought food during their stay.

I thought it impolite to ask Mama-san how much of the money earned was shared  between her and the girls. They must have come to some sort of an arrangement. So, I made a  mental note to ask Masaki-chan when we were alone.

The three of us ate together during lunch. Mama-san cooked a big bowl of ramen for  each of us. Near the evening, the traffic got busier. Several guys had asked for Masaki-chan.  Apparently, she was quite popular and well-known among her regulars. There were also other  girls arriving for the evening shift. I had at first felt sorry for the plight of the girls there, but I  realized that mine was no better. I was a slave bound to my Master in this foreign land, and I  did not even have my own money to spend. I was completely at his mercy.

By then, I had also wondered about the plight of the other girls from the US. We were  separated from each other after the auction, and I had no idea where they were or how they  were faring. Were they in the same predicament as me? Were they also bought by kind  Masters? I sincerely hoped that Christina and the rest were safe.

Not long after, Shujin-sama picked me up from the place. He arrived in a regular city  car this time. He was still wearing his mask and smiled when he caught my eyes. What was it  with this guy and his obsession with wearing a mask, I thought. His eyes were dark in color,  but I could not make out the exact color of them under the mask. They could easily have been  black. I finally noticed new things about him, now that I was well-rested and it was broad  daylight. Wavy brown hair framed his angular jaw. He had decided to keep his hair slightly  longer than most men. He wore a dark blue kimono similarly, and I could see the tattoos on  his forearms clearly this time, a phoenix on the left, and a snake coiled around a tortoise on  the right.

As he took my hand and guided me back to the car, he called back to Mama-san,  "Arigatou gozaimasu!" Thank you!

Mama-san hollered back at me, "Until tomorrow, Cathy-chan!" I could only smile back  at her.

"Kirei! Beautiful," He spoke to me, once we were both inside the car.

I blushed. "Y..you look nice, too!" I replied, unsure of whether he actually understood  me.

We went to a different love hotel that evening. The hotel front was more obscure  compared to the previous one. It looked like one of the regular buildings. This time, I saw  that my Master chose a traditional room. I would be sleeping on a futon for the first time  tonight, I thought. While he was making payment in front of the room display, I wandered to  the free drink station and got myself a hot chocolate. It tasted sweet like the regular hot  chocolate you made at home. I pointed to my drink and asked him if he wanted anything. He  shook his head and muttered, "Arigatou."

My Master remained quiet during the elevator ride, as he was during the car ride to the  hotel. I was getting used to his silence by now. When we reached our floor, he placed his  hand lightly on the ribbon on my belt as I exited the elevator. We entered our room and  removed our shoes at the entrance.

I was marveling at how minimalist the traditional Japanese room was with its muted  beige colored walls, when I felt my Master came up behind me and placed his arms around  my waist. I could feel his heavy breathing on my neck before he dipped his head lower and  planted a kiss on my exposed nape. His lips were hot against my skin, and I shuddered. I  

could detect his hard arousal even through the layers of kimono that separated us. "Toriko," He whispered against my ear.

I suddenly became aware of my own feelings - lust mixed with fear. My heart  thundered in my chest. If he continued, he would be the second guy that I have slept with, the  first one being Alec. When he turned me around to face him, his eyes searched my face. It  seemed like he could sense what I was feeling. He finally sighed, rubbing his hands up and  down the sides of my arms, before letting me go almost reluctantly. My skin still burned and  tingled from the last contact. How could such a simple touch affect me so much?

My Master ordered another sumptuous dinner again that night. He ordered various  assortments of sushi and sashimi. Some were placed in a wooden boat, and some on  miniature wooden stairs. I mixed a little wasabi into a cup of soy sauce for the dipping sauce.  My nose stung painfully when the wasabi hit home, and I blinked back tears as I pinched my  nose, trying to dispel the burning feeling. I also tried renkon chips for the first time that day  and was immediately addicted. I ate the whole bowl, leaving only crumbs for my Master. I  smiled sheepishly at him as I burped lightly. I had hoped that it was alright to do that, but I  found out from Mama-san the next day that it was considered impolite to make any sort of  noises during mealtimes in Japanese culture.

When it came time for me to take my shower, he helped me get out of my kimono. As I  grappled with my robes, I felt him tug at my ribbon, unraveling it. Maybe he should not have  done that, because I was getting all hot and bothered again. He seemed to have had much  experience with taking off a woman’s kimono. When he untied my belt, he placed his arm  around me, instead of coming around, and his arms soon grazed my chest. I was down to  my nagajuban, and I wrapped my arms around my chest to keep the last robe about me. I  sincerely hoped that he did not intend to strip me completely.

To my relief, he stopped at that, and I muttered my thank you before running off to the  bathroom. That night, he slept on his side of the bed, and I on mine.

Chapter Six

Alec

Time check. 30 minutes to 10 a.m. Half an hour to departure.

I stood with Ryo and his crew near the shinkansen (bullet train) ticket gates, holding  my JR Rail Pass booklet in one hand, and the handle of my traveling suitcase in the other. We  have passed the regular ticket gates and were waiting for his father to arrive first, before

entering the next set of gates. With the Rail Pass, we could technically go on unlimited train  rides for the week, but our destination that morning was Tokyo, where the Nakajima-gumi’s  headquarter was located. Ryo told me that we would be spending three days in Tokyo, and  the auction would be held two days after that.

I felt the familiar prickling sensation at the back of my neck, the gut feeling that  someone was watching us. Glancing around, I finally spotted the oddities. A man on the other  side of the gate biting into a hamburger the vending machine had just dispensed for him. The  Japanese were not likely to eat or drink in public. A young couple in the far corner making  out. The Japanese also frowned upon public display of affection. The CIA, it seemed, was  already here, judging from the barely imperceptible outlines of the wireless earbuds that these  people wore. They needed to learn to blend in more, though, I silently thought.

I smoothed the front of my newly pressed suit, feeling the bulge made by the  SCK/Minebea 9mm handguns perched on my holsters. I brought them just in case, although I  did not expect an altercation to happen on this train trip. I knew that CIA agents would not  even board the train. There would just be a group waiting here at the starting station and  another group waiting at our destination when we arrived. It was more of an observe-listen and-report kind of operation since they expected that the train journey itself would be  uneventful. They were here on K’s orders since my last contact with her, I guessed just as  much.

Ryo’s father and his set of bodyguards then came into view as they rounded the corner.  They went through the regular manned gates with their passes, and we quickly trailed behind  them to go through the second gates. I walked briskly up the escalators to keep up with their  walking pace. When we reached our platform, we stood in line behind the yellow mark on the  ground to wait for our train arrival. When the green futuristic-looking thing finally came to a  stop in front of us, we boarded it. Apparently, Ryo’s father had reserved a whole carriage  (passenger car) for all of us.

He had chosen a "green car", akin to business class in an airplane, with large reclining  seats and spacious legroom. Green cars contained rows of 2 by 2 seats. The chairs could also  swivel 180 degrees to make four seats facing each other, or two if they were all facing the  same direction. I walked along the aisle, found my reserved seat number, and shoved my  luggage in the overhead baggage compartment. As soon as I sat down, I could smell the  freshly laundered seat covers.

Ryo sat next to his father while I sat next to Shouta two rows behind them, occupying  the aisle seat. It would be easier to spring into action when an emergency came up if you are  seated next to the alley.

The train soon rolled into motion. I barely felt the shinkansen moving, if not for the  view that laid beyond the windows. Buildings and scenery raced past us. Traveling at a  maximum speed of 200 miles per hour, we would reach Tokyo in slightly over two hours,  only an hour difference if we had taken a flight between the two cities. I plugged my phone  into the electrical outlets, before getting comfortable in my seat. A footrest, a reading light,  and a seat warmer were also provided for our comfort.

After the middle-aged lady came around with the food cart to offer us bento boxes and  various beverages including sake, Ryo suddenly stood up and made the unexpected  announcement.

"We are no longer meeting in Tokyo. We are alighting in Yokohama. That will be our  final destination," He said with a wave of his hand. Yokohama was but two stops earlier than  the Tokyo station. What’s going on?

I could immediately hear uncomfortable shuffles coming from the seat behind me. Not  long after, a man stood up seemingly heading towards the restroom at the end of the carriage.  I could only see his back profile as he walked down the aisle. Which one was he?

I glanced at Shouta on the seat next to me, fast asleep, snoring heavily. Seeing my  chance, I moved to stand up and followed the man to the toilet. He was undoubtedly another  mole planted by the CIA, an asset most likely developed by Tanaka.

I pressed the panel on the automatic sliding door as he stepped inside the single-use  restroom like I predicted, locking himself in. I stood right outside the door, listening in.  Muffled sounds came from within. The guy was making a call to someone.

"Change of meeting venue. Yokohama, I repeat, Yokohama, not Tokyo," I heard him  speak in Japanese. I coughed loudly in order to announce my presence to him. What if  someone else but me was standing outside the door instead? He would be caught red-handed  by now. He should have texted rather than called. Did the CIA not train assets anymore  before they went life, I silently cursed.

When the restroom door finally opened, I saw his face. I recognized the short, stout  man with a gash across his cheek standing before me. I remembered his name was Kenji or  something. He glared at me as he stepped around me. I was clearly blocking his exit.

I quickly entered the restroom and locked the door behind me. I switched my phone’s  SIM cards before texting K the news.

Exit point moved to Yokohama. Have you got another mole here among Ryo’s men? - A.

Waiting for K’s reply, I paced back and forth inside the roomy wheelchair-accessible  restroom. But none came. I deleted the message history a couple of minutes later, and  switched the SIM cards around, before replacing the back cover on the phone.

I then bent over the washbasin and turning on the tap, splashed some cold water on my  face. Think, Alec, why did they switch the venue last minute? They must have known that  they were under surveillance. They knew that they were being tailed. Now the key was to  make sure that they did not know that we knew about the place switch. Otherwise, they  would suspect an insider’s job. They would suspect a traitor in their midst. Everyone back in  the carriage would be under suspicion, including me.

I turned off the tap and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles decorated my  lower eyelids, and bangs were covering my face since I had not visited the barber for a month  now. I sighed. I looked forlorn and miserable. I made sure to flush the toilet once before  exiting the restroom.

When the loudspeaker announced that we would soon be arriving in Yokohama, I  grabbed my luggage from the compartment. I made a point to avert my gaze from Kenji, the  other mole. It was best that we did not give away our positions by signaling to the others that  something had transpired when we visited the restroom earlier on.  

We left the train station in our sedans and drove towards Yokohama Chinatown. Of  course, what better place to meet the Chinese triad members than there? Suddenly, it all made  perfect sense to me. A clandestine meeting such as this should be conducted in a more  obscure place than Tokyo, the capital of Japan, in broad daylight.

We did not head straight to the meeting place that afternoon, another surprising move.  We checked in into our respective hotels, a 5-star hotel for Ryo and his father, 3-star ones for  the rest of us. We were given half an hour to freshen up before reconvening outside a yum  cha restaurant for lunch. I did my usual sweep search for bugs across the hotel room, as  Shouta washed his face in the bathroom. I quickly planted two of my own, one under the bed  and another on the underside of the coffee table, where no one would bother to check. I  straightened up and pretended to make myself some coffee when Shouta stepped out of the  bathroom.

He was a tall gangly middle-aged man, with numerous keloid scars decorating his  tattooed arms and upper torso. He wore a mean-looking expression most of the time,  undoubtedly useful in his job as the head of the security team. He scared potential opponents  off, weeded out the half-hearted ones, and took on fights only with the earnest ones. A long  history of streetfighting would have taught us that we had to pick our battles. Otherwise, we  would end up with more injuries to last us a lifetime than we liked.

"Want some coffee?" I offered to him.

He shook his head, grunting, "There would be plenty to drink in the restaurant. Ikuzo."  Let’s go, he beckoned me to follow him. Among the henchmen, I thought he was the only one  who did not feel threatened by my presence. It was probably because I did not intimidate him,  could not, or maybe because he felt immune to the political struggles within the Yakuza  ranks.

We walked briskly, side by side, past one of the four Chinatown’s paifang, towering  architectural gateway. Soon, we chanced upon the bustling scenes of the marketplace, with  rows upon rows of shophouses selling all kinds of delectable Chinese streetfood - dumplings,  buns, chicken sticks. The heavy smell of meat and cooking oil made my mouth water, and my  stomach grumbled in protest although it was a mere two hours since I last ate. I immediately saw to my left an old lady arranging cute steaming panda buns atop a large bamboo steamer,  and thought of Cathy. She would have liked those. Maybe I could take her here once I got  hold of her.

We arrived at the restaurant, where the others were already assembled. Ryo sat next to  me in the large round Chinese dining table with a rotating lazy Susan centerpiece. I was  familiar with the etiquette of dining at a yum cha restaurant. So when the waiter came around  to pour Chinese tea into my cup, I knocked my knuckles on the table, a gesture meant to  indicate "Thank you". We soon dug into the spread before us - chicken and shrimp shumai,

xiao long bao, soft rice noodle rolls, spring rolls, deep-fried sesame balls, sweet custard buns,  and many more. Even I had to loosen my belt by the time we finished lunch.

I excused myself to go to the toilet before we left the place. Two men were using the  urinals. I left a gap and stood one urinal away from the furthest man, let my zipper down, and  relieved myself. When I saw that I had made a mess, I moved to reach for the tissue  dispenser, but not before I caught a glimpse of the face of the man standing next to me.

Fuck! I recognized him as one of the mobsters from the Hong Kong triad. We have met  previously while I was still working under Giovanni Serva, when we went on that business  trip to Hong Kong. He was pretty high up, working directly under the mafia boss. I quickly  grabbed some tissue papers and stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice him. Please  God, don’t let him recognize me.

The other man left the urinal and the restroom was quiet once again, except for the  sound of trickling water. I hurried to finish the job and zipping my pants back up, rushed to  the washbasin to rinse my hands. Calm down, I told myself. It has been more than six months  since he last saw me. He probably did not even remember what I looked like.

"I think I know you," The man suddenly spoke in Cantonese. I froze, but continued to  stare at my reflection in the mirror, pretending that I had not heard him, or at least, not  understood any of the words he had spoken. I immediately turned to exit the bathroom, but  the guy had seen through my ploy. I was still recognizable despite my haggard appearance.

"Hey, I’m talking to you," He called out to me, as I heard him zip his pants.

I did some quick thinking, locked the main door to the restroom, before turning around,  and ramming into him. He staggered backwards and I shoved him up against the outer wall of  a cubicle. I intended to deliver one hard punch to his head, knocking him out in one blow, but  he blocked my attack with his arm. He aimed his leg at my groin then, but missed as I jumped  out of the way. I did a jab, cross, hook combo, before delivering a leg kick and a final  

uppercut. As soon as the guy slumped on the floor, I dragged his unconscious body into one  of the cubicles and propped him up on the toilet seat. I looked underneath all the other doors,  making sure that no one else was present to witness our fight, before returning to the cubicle  and locking the door.

I quickly switched my phone’s sim cards and typed:

Dispatch needed. Men’s restroom on 2nd floor of Yum cha restaurant. - A

After sending the message, I jerked the man’s head back and took several photos of his  face. I then scaled the cubicle wall, threw myself over the top, and exited through the next  cubicle.

When I returned to our table, Ryo commented, "You took a pretty long time.  Stomachache?"

I tried to hide my uneven breathing, before replying, "Hai, I think the chilli oil doesn’t  sit very well with me."