Silence of the Geisha Horror: Yukis Revenge (2 page)

It took a total of fifteen minutes to relieve him of his last nail on his dominant hand. When she finished, he was a sobbing, incoherent mess, but still conscious. She was on a roll.

Unfortunately, so much time passing meant that even more drug had worn out of Julian and Jean-Luc's systems. They were just beginning to struggle feebly against their bonds, but Yuki had made sure they were tight and tied four times over. They had a better chance of finding big foot than escaping her bonds.

“I'm sorry,” Buck cried first, voice hoarse and panicked. “I'm sorry for what we did to you.”

“We were wrong,” Jean-Luc chimed in. “We're sorry.”

“We'll report ourselves to the police, we'll turn ourselves in and confess everything. We won't say who hurt us. Just please, stop.”

“Awww, you two are so sweet!” She cooed, crouching down in front of Buck's large frame. “You really mean it?”

“
Yes!
More than anything else in the world. I'll give you anything,
do
anything. Just stop. Let us go.”

The small woman reached out and stroked the man's still damp face. “What a noble, noble man. Even with all this torture, you still look out for your little lackeys. I never knew you had such loyalty in you.” She let her fingers dance across his features gently, touching, appreciating, mapping, until she reached the cut I had fixed up on his cheek. Sliding a nail under the suture, she ripped it out viciously. “Where was that kindness when
I
was on the ground, begging for mercy? Huh?
Huh!?
”

“
I'm sorry!
” He cried/screamed into the night.

She leaned in until their faces were merely a breath apart. “You're sorry, are you?”

“Yes, yes. Truly, deeply, sorry.”

“Well, if you really are sorry, I'm sure you understand that you need to endure being dominated yourself. After all, an eye for an eye and fair is fair when it comes to making up.”

“What-”

She rose and flipped over his stiff body, until he was face first in the earth. Digging through her revenge kit again, she pulled out a gag and finagled with it until it was firmly in his mouth. Once she was sure that he could say nothing, beyond maybe a few garbled yelps, she pulled out her pièce de résistance, a leather sex whip, with seven tails at the end.

Standing, she raised her hand over her head and brought it down with all her might. What could move on Julian's drugged body flinched, but she kept on. Every crack of the whip brought her immense satisfaction, and she found her lips pulling back in a snarl.

“What's that? You're not asking me to stop. Do you like it? You always seemed like a closeted submissive.” Another whip. Then another. The man collapsed against the ground, and she could hear muffled screams from him, but she didn't let up. “Such a whore, whining like that, wanting more. You must
live
for this, huh? Being put in your place? Don't you?
Don't you?
”

Bringing the lash down five more times, she finally felt satisfaction course through her. Breathless, she dropped it and examined her work.

Buck was crying, and trying to rise up to his knees as much as his demi-paralyzed limbs would allow. Jean-Luc could not looked more terrified, or ridiculous with his half shaved head. And Thomas? Thomas was a blubbering, bloody mess, with burns on all of his left hand fingers, and no nails on hand of his right hand.

Crossing away from the three, she grabbed a crowbar she had left in the grass. She tossed the metal in her hand a few times, relishing in its weight, before returning to Buck's side and bringing it down with all the rage she had left in her small body.

He fell to the ground, limp. Unconscious. And the woman let out a long sigh of relief.

Several Weeks Earlier

1 in 5 women (20%) will be sexually assaulted while at college.

Yuki pulled on a pair of white thigh highs and fixed her hair as the cab pulled up to the Gentleman’s Club she was currently employed at. Making sure to tip before she left, she strode up the employee entrance and stairs.

“Hey Sakura! How are ye?”

Yuki looked over to see Rowena, a red headed beauty that spoke with an Irish lilt to her voice. All the girls at the club used fake names to further their personas, with many developing a gimmick as well. Yuki usually ran tea ceremonies, or masqueraded as a schoolgirl for her clientele, while Rowena often was a wild girl from the country who just wanted to ride horses and enjoy nature. In reality, her name was Julie and she grew up in St. Louis.

The Japanese girl hadn't bothered to explain that some of her back story was accurate. She had indeed been born in Kyoto, Japan. But her parents had moved to New York when she was quite young so she could take advantage of America's renowned medical schooling. Of course that wasn't exactly the titillating fair her job relied on, so she had had to be more...creative with her origin story. According to her biography on the club's
menu
, so to say, she had been trained in the traditional arts of the geisha and Japanese seduction, before being imported to spread her knowledge.

“Not bad, well rested after a long week. Yourself?”

That was a lie. Her week had been full of tests and studying. And not to mention all the duties that came with third year clinical rotations.
But
she had managed to get a solid four hours of sleep in the night before, so she was ready for a long weekend of pleasing clients who wanted to pay tons of money for fake company and no sex.

She knew that some of the other girls slept with their patrons. It was all under the table and very hush hush, but Yuki had made very clear that she was not going to have sex with anyone who entered the club. It wasn't that she judged the women who did, but it just wasn't her.

“Not bad mi friend. Excited fer another night at the disco, ye kno?”

“Of course. Got any bookings?”

“Not as of yet. But the night is young.”

“Good point.” She bent her head in a respectful goodbye and headed towards the office.

It seemed so odd, the clerical room tucked in the back, juxtaposed to all the lights, alcohol and women you expected in a host bar, but it made sense to Yuki. Someone had to calculate the finances, the taxes, the hiring, firing, bookings and security.

“Hello mother,” She murmured, reaching the small window beside the closed door.

An older woman rolled her seat to face the Japanese woman. She obviously had once been an attraction at the bar; her makeup was still heavy and suited for the entrancing lights of the dance floor, and her eyes were too sharp, taking in everything at once to try to gain an edge.

“Sakura. You're early, as usual.”

“I try my hardest. Any bookings today?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh, did one of my regulars drop in ahead of schedule?”

“No, someone new, actually. A British judge. He ordered a private ceremony with you.”

“A tea ceremony?”

“No, just your standard. He did not give any specifics.”

“Really? Not outfit, or anything?”

“No, it seems he just wants to meet the real Sakura.” She gave a small laugh. “Or as real as Sakura gets.”

She couldn't help my own smirk at the irony.

“Thank you mother. I'll pick up my fees at the end of the night.”

“You're welcome darling. Knock 'em dead.”

It was rare to have a private meeting booked without even meeting someone downstairs in the lobby or dance floor, but Yuki wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Checking her hair and makeup again, she saw that her dramatic eyeliner was still crisp, and her updo hadn't budged. It was about the opposite of what she looked like in her everyday life, but that's probably exactly what this judge from England wanted.

“You look like you’re getting ready for something special.”

It took everything Yuki had in her not to roll her eyes. Instead, she forced a smile on her face and looked to the venomous Umi. “I have a booking with a new client.”

“How wonderful. That’s what, your third one this month? One would almost thing you were giving away certain things on the house.”

Yuki kept her friendly expression in place when she wanted nothing more than to tackle the Chinese woman with her claws out. Umi was the closest thing Yuki had to a rival, and only because she had declared herself as such. They really had almost nothing in common besides their Asianess. While Yuki was slender, short and played into the stereotype of the submissive and perpetually youthful Asian, Umi was the quintessential bombshell. She had curves for days, and dark, enchanting eyes that promised pure seduction. She was tall, and looked like she could possibly kick someone’s ass. They had very little overlapping clientele because of this, but Umi had made it pretty clear that she wanted the monopoly on the ‘oriental’ market.

“Luckily everyone here knows me too well to believe that.”

“Yeah, you’re so lucky you’re a favorite. I wish I got the kind of breaks that you’ve been blessed with!” There may have been a sweet expression on Umi’s face, but Yuki understood a veiled insult when she heard it.

“Don’t worry. Just work hard like I did, and I’m sure one day you’ll catch up.” She gave a curt nod and stepped away from the make up mirror.

She headed down the stairs into the public part of the building, plastering a mysterious, aloof look on her face. She knew she was playing into the terrible stereotype of Asian mysticism, but a job was a job, and there were few that could earn her so much while just working Friday through Sunday.

With a few turns, she reached the back hall that lead to private rooms. Some of them had themes, such as the tea room for herself, the tavern room for Amybelle and Rosemary, a very sparse, minimalist room for Brunhilde, the dominatrix, but most of them were just simple rooms with couches on either side of a low coffee table, a television, and a very small raised stage where a girl could dance -if that was on her list of skills.

She reached the door and took a deep breath, composing herself. Every new client was always nerve wracking. Were they going to be a jerk, were they going to be funny? Easily pleased? Picky?

Opening the door, she was surprised not to see the fat, balding man with bad teeth she expected, but rather a tall, well-dressed man with chiseled features, and thick, sandy brown hair.

“Good evening, Miss Sakura.”

“Good evening,” She replied, crossing over to him and gracefully lowering herself onto the couch opposite of him. “I'm afraid I do not have the honor of knowing your name, good sir.”

“Julian,” He answered, handsome features arranging themselves into an easy grin. “But you can call me Buck.”

“Buck? That is an unusual nickname.”

“My last name is Warbucks, so it's better than what the alternative could have been.”

“Oh yes, I suppose that is true.”

“So how long have you worked here, Miss Sakura.”

“Only a few short months. But I have enjoyed all of them.” Something about him was different from her other clients. Although his eyes still scoured her from head to toe, his gaze was lacking that pathetic sort of lecherous need. Instead they were bright, appraising, and crystal blue.

“Do you meet people from all over?”

“Oh yes, it is always fascinating talking to someone who lives somewhere I have never been.”

“Do you travel often?”

“No, I am afraid day to day life keeps me too busy to travel to the cities I hear about.”

“If you could go anywhere, where would you like to go?”

For a moment she was going to give the same canned answer of returning to her homeland for a few days, but something made her want to give this man a more honest response.

“Ireland, or Australia, I think.”

His strong eyebrows raised, as if he was surprised. “Oh really? Why those?”

“Well, Ireland because there is so much culture, and history there that people outside of Ireland are rarely taught. And Australia, well, there are warm beaches, exotic animals, a hint of danger, and New Zealand not that far away.”

“Good answers. You're an interesting sort of girl, Sakura. Not like most girls.”

“Thank you. I think that perhaps you are not like most of my visitors either.”

His grin took on a toothy edge. “You're probably right.”

The conversation stilled, and I offered him a drink. He gave me that same analytical look before leaning forward.

“I like you, Sakura. I never do this on a first meeting, but I would like to go on a date with you.”

She smiled, before delivering the line she had said many a time. “Any further accompaniment can be arranged through that telephone there through the office.”

“You have a mind for business,” He said with a smile, adjusting his quite expensive suit. “You call her for me. She has all my card info.”

Yuki nodded and unfolded herself from her seat. Crossing over to the ruby phone on the wall, she pulled the receiver to her ear.

“The Black Unicorn, gentleman's club, how can we serve you?”

“Hello, mother, this is Sakura.”

“What's going on? Do you need security?”

“No, not at all. Buck has asked me out on a date. He requested that I make the arrangements through you.”

“Of course. The receipt will be sent to his email. Good job, Sakura.”

“Thank you mother.”

She hung up and offered the businessman her most demure smile. She thoroughly enjoyed that he wasn't fetishizing her race, or infantilizing her small, Asian frame, but she would never let her guard down around a client.

Julian had stood while she was on the phone, because when she turned to face him, she was greeted by his large chest filling her vision. The man had to be at least six feet tall. Compared to her quite petite five three, he was practically a giant.

But despite their size difference, he still offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

“Of course. May I ask where you are treating me to?”

“A lovely seafood place that just opened up. Reservations are near impossible, but I pulled a few strings.”

“It sounds wonderful, Mr. Julian.”