Shichiro comes home and talks to his wife, Amaya. A nice lemon for everyone.
Chapter Thirteen: She Who Holds the Whip:
August 23rd, 1980. Wine purple hair. Young Shichiro loved her hair. She was different. So much so that he didn’t know where to start. She wasn’t just a pretty face though. Her tongue cut worse than knife. She didn’t always follow Japanese etiquette. Many feared and loved her. She just wanted the perfect dog. Shichiro went from one master to another. He was a just a sucker-dog for pretty hair.
August 14th, 2009. Shichiro made it home from the infirmary that evening. The house was dark. He looked around in the living room.
“Amaya-chan,” he whispered. “You still awake?” Silence. The man closed his eyes and sniffed the air. Lavender and ginger tickled his nose. His wife was waiting for him.
He followed the scent through the hall. The man came to their bedroom. His heart raced as he touched the door and slid it open. Not a single inch of light greeted him. The scent increased here. Shichiro closed his eyes and deeply took in the scent.
“You washed your hair?” he asked.
“Mm-hm,” a voice murmured. The professor scanned the darkness for his wife. He spotted her lying on their Western-style bed. Her amber eyes seemed to glow in the dark at him. Shichiro gave her a little smile.
“Hello there,” he said. Amaya looked him up and down.
“Coming to bed?” she asked.
“Why yes I am!” her husband replied. He walked over to the bed and climbed on. Amaya kissed him once.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Shichiro whispered. She giggled a bit.
“Have a good day?”
He shook his head. “I’m dying again.”
Shichiro nodded. “I’ll have to kill again.”
Amaya climbed on top of him and kissed him on the lips. “I love it when you kill!”
He gave her a sad little smile. “But, I don’t want to kill anybody.”
Amaya frowned at him. “But you must kill or you’ll die.”
“I know, but I can’t do it!”
She pinned him down by the shoulders. Her husband winced in pain. She nipped him on the neck.
“Are you saying you’re not man enough?”
He shook his head. “We can’t afford to kill anymore at the school. It attracts too much attention.”
“What about that girl who is in love with you?”
Shichiro thought about that for a moment. “Maybe.” His wife nipped him on the shoulder again.
He chuckled a bit. “Ow. Feisty, aren’t you?”
She giggled at him. Amaya slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He took in slow breathes.
“Oh, hungry aren’t you?” the professor asked. She licked on his bare collarbone. He slowly relaxed. Her naked breasts rubbed up against his exposed chest. She slipped her tongue into his mouth.
In between kisses, she said, “Be the man I fell in love with twenty-nine years ago!”
“Kill for me again!”
Shichiro gave her a little smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Amaya giggled and nuzzled his chest while unzipping his trousers. He felt himself getting hard at her touch. She smirked to herself.
“I know what you want,” his wife whispered. Shichiro nodded at her quickly.
“Take me!” he pleaded. “I need you!”
Amaya smirked at him. “Okay then,” she replied. “I’ll give it to you.”
Shichiro slowly smiled. “Oh yeah! I am yours!” His wife smirked and slid off his pants. Her fingers played with his boxers before taking them off. He moaned at her touch. Amaya sat up and guided him into her. Both moaned at the sensation.
She rode him worse than a motorcycle. Shichiro lied there and took it. The ginger-lavender scent of her wine purple hair kept him high all night. That was all it took, really. Amaya only had to taunt him and use her naked body to keep the leash on him. After all, Amaya was the master and Shichiro was the dog. He threw his head back and moaned out.
“Oh God!!!” he cried as he reached the climax. “I can’t hold back!” The professor let go of his juices as his wife collapsed on top of him. Shichiro stroked his wife’s pretty hair as she slept on his chest. He gently kissed her on the head.
“I’ll give you the best kill, my dear wife,” Shichiro whispered. She just did it again. No surprise; Amaya was the master and her husband was her little dog.