“Your tanto. Now.”
My hand goes to it before I even think.
“Fuck no. She’s mine.”
“A tool’s a responsibility,” he says, hand out. “You proved you can’t be trusted with it today. This is not a request.”
My jaw locks, teeth grinding. I slam the sheathed tanto into his palm. Feels like handing over my soul, not just a blade.
“Good. Now, strip and kneel in the center of the room.”
My fingers move on their own. Jacket, shirt, belt—gone. My cock’s still hard. Pisses me off. I drop to my knees where he told me to.
He comes closer, silent, pulls off his tie. My heart kicks once when I think he’s gonna bind me with it. But he doesn’t. He loops it around my neck instead, loose, just hanging there.
Then he takes my shirt off the floor and sits on the couch. Without looking at me, he starts cutting it into long stripes.
I stay still, hands on my thighs, eyes forward, watching his fingers work. Every slice is another second I’m not allowed to move, not allowed to speak. Every time I almost open my mouth, his words slam back into my skull.“I didn’t give you permission to speak.”So I sit here like a damn dog, jaw tight, eyes locked on his hands.
And he doesn’t even look at me once.
I want to grab him. Want tofucking kill him and beg him to kill me.My body’s on fire, mind all over the place. Every muscle alive, vibrating with the ache of beingseenand of beingignored.
Naoya-san starts twisting the strips between his fingers, turning them into rope. He takes his sweet fucking time. Turns every piece of my shirt into a length of rope way thinner than theones he usually uses. Thin enough to cut skin if pulled hard—and fuck if that’s not a turn-on.
Minutes pass. Hours. I can’t tell. I only know that my cock’s throbbing against the air and my balls are tight, and by the time he’s done, my body feels like it’s boiling from the inside.
Then he stands, rope looped in one hand, and crouches down behind me.
“You’ve disappointed me today, Kaito.”
His voice’s flat, cuts right through my gut. I think about spitting at him, see if that’s bratty enough to earn some spanking.
“I thought you understood. I thought we had built something. A sense of structure and respect.” He wraps the rope around my wrists, the fibers dragging over my pulse and biting when he pulls. “But today you decided to remind me what happens when I mistake desire for discipline.”
“Rules exist for a reason,” he continues. “Boundaries. Order. Without them, what are we?” He cinches a knot between my wrists. Tight and perfect. “Just men with urges and no control. You’re better than that, aren’t you?”
My mouth almost moves—the lying “yes” caught behind my teeth—but I stop.
His hand lands on my shoulder. “Down.”
I grit my teeth and drop, chest to the floor. Then he starts working my legs. Rope sliding, looping, crossing over itself with that same goddamn precision. He bends one leg back, folding my shin tight against the thigh until my muscles strain and the rope starts to bite. I grunt, my body jerking, my face pressed into the floor.
“You crave restraint because you can’t be trusted with freedom, Kaito. You proved that tonight. You embarrassed me,humiliated me, and now—” he tugs, the rope locking hard around my thigh “—you’ll learn why submission is a privilege.”
Naoya-san slips his hands under my hips and forces them up. My face slams into the floor, and the ropes bite my wrists when the new position forces my arms even more. He pries my legs wide, locking them open, each knot pulling them to the side, exposing my pelvis and tilting my hips up.
Humiliating? Yeah. Hot as hell? Also yeah. Because every time he ties me like this, it means he’s gonna bury his fingers in me.
“What now, sensei? You gonna spank me or something?”
He lets out a sigh.
“I was about to commend your obedience for holding your tongue until I gave you permission.”
He steps closer, and I can smell his cologne, that neat, expensive shit that doesn’t belong in my apartment.
“It’s a shame. You almost had it right.”
