Twelve Steps To Hell

Chapter 6

“Thank you, my slave. I appreciate the compliment. But take care not to lay it on too thick. Excessive flattery loses its impact and may even become counterproductive.”

“I understand, Mistress Kimiko.”

Gently chided thus I fall silent, concentrating on keeping Mistress properly shaded with the parasol. This features a gorgeous peacock motif, and I’ve been looking for a chance to comment upon it, but this clearly is still not the time. After strolling in silence for a few more minutes Mistress Kimiko picks up on the other half of my compliment.

“Yes the garden is very beautiful. I spend much of my time simply walking aimlessly here, or resting and meditating. It makes one very reluctant to leave, or to venture out into the vulgar modern world at all. Should you prove to be the one for me, I will at last be able to cease attending those insufferable meetings myself, and retire behind my hedges completely. Tell me slave, how would you feel about spending the rest of your life on this property, and never seeing the outside world again?”

“Not to be excessively complimentary, Mistress, but that sounds like heaven. I could spend a blissful eternity here.”

Mistress Kimiko strolls on without responding. When she begins to talk again it is almost entirely about things we come across in the garden.

She points out particularly rare or potent species of plants and discusses their uses as remedies or ingredients in traditional or modern medicine; or as poisons and assassins’ weapons. She speaks of other various properties attributed to them in fact or legend. She points out flowers for me to smell, plucks leaves to bruise or tear under my nose and bits of bark to crumble between my fingers. Like a museum guide she recites the sculptors responsible for various pieces of statuary and under which dynasty and/or school of thought they were created. I content myself with remaining respectfully attentive – not difficult in the least for everything is fascinating and of course my guide particularly enthralling – and I only comment when it seems indicated. After wandering thus at Mistress Kimiko’s whim for well over an hour we at last wend our way to a truly enchanting spot where Mistress indicates we shall rest.

A gentle stream spills over a foot-tall waterfall into a small pond. Brilliantly white lilies float amid green pads spotting the placid liquid. Small frogs crouch irregularly around the perimeter singing for mates and multicolored koi lip lazily at the surface. Exotic flowering bushes grow opposite a semicircular stone bench, which is shaded by a mature, overhanging cherry tree heavy with fragrant blossom. Bees and butterflies sample the various nectars on offer, and dragonflies the deep purple hue of Mistress Kimiko’s kimono with huge, jewel-like eyes hover and dart about like miniature helicopters.

Mistress sits, loosening that kimono considerably as she does. As she crosses one knee over the other, that rich silk falls apart to either side, exposing those long, slender bare legs to well up the thigh. Silently she pats the bench next to her, inviting me to join her. Heart thumping and viscera quivering I set the currently unneeded parasol on the grass with its colorful top pointing toward us and sit next to Mistress, leaving a respectful space of about a foot between us. Ignoring me for the moment she fishes in a pocket and brings out a pack of cigarettes.

I quit smoking myself at the same time I stopped drinking. But I still possess an elegantly slender monogrammed silver lighter given to me as a birthday present by Dorothy.

I have carried this with me ever since seeing Mistress smoking at my first AA meeting, hoping for just this opportunity. By the time she’s withdrawn a cigarette from the pack and raised it to her lips I’ve popped a flame into light with a muted little click. She leans toward me as I proffer this, the front of her kimono gaping open to reveal a heart-stopping amount of cleavage. I light her up, put the lighter away and then pick up a leafy fern frond to wave away any insects that come too near my beloved. She smokes silently for a time, and at last I feel comfortable with trying my single conversational gambit. With the toe of one shoe I indicate the parasol and its elaborately detailed peacock motif.

“This is truly beautiful, Mistress Kimiko.”

“Yes it is,” she agrees companionably. “I simply adore peacocks. I’d love to get some. Unfortunately they are noisy, nasty, destructive birds. They would shatter the tranquility here and tear up my lovely garden unacceptably.”

“That’s too bad.”

Mistress falls silent again, looking contemplatively across the pond as she smokes. She shifts position, and the front of her kimono gapes anew. Now instead of cleavage I can see most of the inside of one fabulous, milk-white breast right down to the incredibly delectable bottom curve. My imprisoned p***s cries out with pain as it immediately tries to erect, and that desperately maddening frustration seizes me once again. Still no amount of this can force my gaze from that breathtaking sight. But then Mistress turns her head unexpectedly and catches me ogling her. Instantly fearing the worst I hastily avert my eyes. Mistress Kimiko immediately sharply admonishes me – but not in the way I expect.

“Don’t you ever do that, slave!” Her voice is icy with anger and disapproval. “You tried to deceive me just now. I will not tolerate lies, no matter how subtle or well intentioned. You were looking at my breast, yes?”

“Yes, Mistress Kimiko.” Face flaming with chagrin I keep my head bowed and my eyes firmly on the ground.

“Well, that’s all right,” she declares, shocking me into looking up at her. That sly smile is back on her face, and amused smugness moderates her tone. “You can look at my body all you like. I enjoy it, and it’s only natural. Just don’t ever try to deceive me in any way again.”

“Yes, Mistress Kimiko. I’m terribly sorry.”

She stubs out her smoke on the stone of the bench. Then she hands me the dead butt.

“Put that in your pocket, slave. You can dispose of it later.”

“Yes, Mistress”

Mistress Kimiko watches me steadily for a moment. Then she leans almost playfully toward me, invitingly displaying more of that deep cleavage than ever. Her smile is decidedly sadistic, her tone gloatingly teasing.

“Looking at me arouses you, doesn’t it, slave?”

“More than I can possibly convey, Mistress.”

“And how does being so aroused make you feel?”

“Excited and worshipful, Mistress Kimiko. But also so terribly frustrated I begin to fear for my sanity.”

Her eyes gleam appreciatively at hearing this, and her smile widens wickedly. To my amazement she uncrosses her legs, spreads them a little and slides a hand inside her kimono, her arm moving rhythmically as she rubs herself down low.

“Ah, it’s such a pity your training in s****l services is still months away, and my little Aiko is nowhere near at hand. Tell me, slave, how was your first weekend of chastity?”

“Agonizing and trying beyond any nightmare, my Mistress.” Seeing that hearing about my trials excites and delights her no end, I go into exacting detail, describing everything for Mistress Kimiko from exulting in the wounds she left on me to fanatically dedicating myself to the distractions of origami. When at last I finish up she’s beautifully flushed and breathing so heavily that I’m in a hell of exquisitely pained frustration all over again. “I think by the end of just this month I’ll be making perfect origami lionfish, leafy sea dragons and Taj Mahals.”

Mistress bursts into laughter at this. It’s the first time she’s ever laughed in my presence and the sight and sound of her merriment is enchanting. She even leans over against me briefly, pulling her hand back out and wiping her glistening fingers dry on my slacks. Throbbing with futilely demanding need I stare down at more of her breasts than ever as they jiggle maddeningly with her mirth. At last she pushes herself back upright and lays a hand on my arm with tender commiseration. Her smile this time is genuinely affectionate and heartwarming.

“Be strong for me, my slave, and make it through this year. I truly want you for my husband. You are my most delightful prospect yet.”

“I will, Mistress Kim. I swear it to you.”

She accepts this familiarity from me indulgently. Then she sits back and fans her chest with her kimono, once again affording me a view that exalts and torments me simultaneously.

“Whew! I need to cool off and calm down, relax and center myself. I must meditate for a while.” Mistress Kimiko rises from the bench and moves to a shaded spot on the grass. Immediately I leap up and strip off my sport coat.

“One second, my beloved Mistress!”

I spread this out on the ground for her. Mistress Kimiko sits down on it and assumes the lotus position: legs crossed, palms up and eyes closed. Very quietly I retrieve my fern frond and take my seat on the grass, near enough to watch over her but not close enough to intrude.

I sit silently without fidgeting for over two hours as Mistress meditates, shooing away any flies or bees that approach. Marveling at her beauty in this beautiful setting, I revel in the memory of her laughter, the touch of her hand on my arm, the weight of her body as she leaned against me and the repeated glimpses of cleavage, of curves, of blessedly lovely breast-flesh. I called her Mistress Kim and she permitted it. This has been the best afternoon of my life. Live here forever with her? Surely that prospect will enable me to endure absolutely anything!

By and by Mistress Kimiko’s eyes open. She regards me for a moment with that magisterial impassivity. Then she holds out a hand to me. Immediately I spring up, take this, and help her to her feet. I retrieve my sport coat and the parasol and we resume our leisurely walk through the garden. Finally at nearly six o’clock we make our way back to the house. There Mistress dismisses me until Wednesday at noon. I head back to my lonely, sordid little apartment, my mind filled with the sights and events of the day. Mistress Kimiko’s first truly affectionate smile and sincere words of encouragement are foremost among these.

For the rest of that first month my regular courting calls pass similarly. No further training is required. As Mistress predicted my innately submissive nature makes this first step simplicity itself. We spend long hours walking the grounds and touring the rooms of that vast house, which seem more like museum galleries than places of habitation. Occasionally we dine together or listen to hours of classical music. Mistress Kimiko improves my cultural education and I prove redundantly my ideal disposition to be her eventual mate. Whether she holds forth at length or drops into long contemplative silences I remain respectfully attentive to her at all times, rarely speaking unless it’s indicated and never offering an unsolicited opinion. She becomes increasingly companionable and even affectionate toward me as we get to know one another better, and it occurs to me she must be lonely here on this sprawling estate with only Aiko and the mute gardener for company. While always effortlessly authoritative and sharp tongued when necessary she seems softer and more approachable at home. She looks so different for one thing, always dressed in silk kimonos with her hair up in traditional styles accentuated by various flowers and other ornaments known as kanzashi: decorative sticks, pins, combs and fans of tortoise-shell, jade or beautifully lacquered wood. She is lovelier and more desirable to me by the day and my fanatical devotion and reverential awe deepen unceasingly. She in turn seems ever more pleased with me, while lurking on the perimeter of our growing intimacy Aiko becomes ever more jealous, hateful and filled with poisonous malice. Despite this however, and even despite my constantly increasing terrible carnal frustration step one seems like heaven already. When the month finally draws to a close and Mistress Kimiko pronounces herself very satisfied with my progress, I’m filled with excited ebullience at my accomplishment. But of course Mistress warns me that step two will be far more challenging, and I take her admonition to heart. Once again it is Monday noon when I present myself for betterment.