3A/N: Welcome back, and congratulations on reaching the final chapter of "Business or Pleasure!" As I said before, this is not the end of the story—merely of Part 1 out of 5. I already have outlines for the remaining parts, but when I'll be able to actually write and post them depends completely on the vagaries and vicissitudes of Life(TM). Still, I take solace in the fact that I'm not leaving you with a total cliffhanger. There is a species of closure to be found here, even though it's not the most uplifting one you could imagine.
Rating: This is another hardcore chapter with explicit depictions of sexual intimacy. People who didn't mind the sex in chapter 6 may still have difficulties with this one. The sex is consensual, but it does take place between two people who'd rather not be doing it and only go along with it because they feel they're left with no other choice. In other words, it's quite traumatic, so please proceed with caution.
Chapter 7: Sachiko
"Welcome home."
Too tired to respond, Sachiko walked through the door that Suguru held open for her. She felt numb. The entire day, she'd been handed from one member of her wedding team to the next, like a baton at a relay race. Following the ceremony at the temple, her driver had whisked her to the hotel where the wedding banquet was to be held. Once there, a crew of outfitters, hair stylists, and make-up artists had given her a complete makeover, switching her kimono for a western-style wedding dress, rearranging her bun into wavy locks, and replacing her chalk-white ceremonial make-up with an imitation of Caucasian skin. The process had taken so long that she'd barely made it to the reception in time. In the opulent wedding hall, she and Suguru had presided over a banquet of more than 500 people. That had meant spending most of the evening making the rounds of the tables, accompanied by an assistant who provided Sachiko with just enough information about each guest to strike up a morsel of polite conversation before moving on to the next invitee. She hadn't even had time to eat, so a waiter, taking pity on her, had handed her a doggy bag when the banquet was finally over. She'd wolfed down the food on the drive home. It had been tasty, probably—she'd been too hungry to tell.
From behind her, she heard Suguru emit a sigh as he quietly closed the door on what would be his and Sachiko's residence from this day onwards: a suite in a disused wing of the Ogasawara Mansion, originally designed for long-term visitors and now retooled to ostensibly fit the needs of the newly married couple. For them, marriage would not be the start of a new life, of adulthood, if what was meant by adulthood was privacy, autonomy, the chance to restart and reimagine one's own life on one's own terms. If anything, they would be under even closer scrutiny than while they were growing up. As the new Executive Director of the Ogasawara Group, Suguru's every word and move would be put under the microscope by elders, rivals, and employees. And as Suguru's wife and the expected mother of his heirs, Sachiko would experience a whole new level of surveillance and censure at the hands of family members, servants, and her wider social circle. They wouldn't even have peace at home—the Ogasawara Mansion may have been Sachiko's home at some point, but she knew that from now on it would more closely resemble a minimum-security prison, albeit one with the trappings of an exclusive boutique hotel.
Drawing a deep breath, Sachiko took in her surroundings. It felt as if she'd walked into the private lair of a Bond villain. The muted, gray carpet flooring, the angular sofa set made of metal and black leather, the mahogany drinks cabinet complemented by a round table for four, the mounted flat-screen TV, and a few pieces of mid-range abstract art all reinforced the reception room's air of drab masculinity. To her left was a door that opened onto a study; its walls were covered in mahogany bookshelves filled with objets d'art and antique-looking books, probably bought by the pound at some vintage home decoration store. A leather reclining chair with a gilded lamp standing next to it and a massive mahogany desk by the window rounded off the illusion that this was the reading room of some well-versed man of letters. To Sachiko's right, another door led into the large bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with an oversized, modern bed and a jarringly baroque make-up table, perhaps an attempt to provide a feminine touch. From the bedroom, one stepped through into two dressing rooms, one for him and one for her. Finally, one last door connected the reception room to a generous bathroom tiled in white with a gray fleur-de-lys motif, apparently a clumsy nod at the Ogasawara women's Lillian pedigree. Sachiko knew the suite had been designed by a prominent interior architect, just as she knew that she wouldn't spend a minute more in it than absolutely necessary. She detested everything about it.
Well, perhaps not everything. Straight ahead, at the far end of the reception room, a set of glass doors led out onto a beautiful stone balcony overlooking the grounds down to the lake. Sachiko thought of the last conversation she'd had down there, with Sato Sei. Sei, who'd refused on principle to come to principled Sachiko's wedding. Sei, who had been right about everything she said that day. But there was the rub: Sachiko had been right as well. And what did one do when two sides were each completely right, and each completely opposed to the other? Sachiko knew the question wasn't logical: if one side was right, the other had to be wrong. But life, so it appeared, didn't care all that much for logic.
A hand came to rest on her shoulder; instinctively, she shrunk away. She'd forgotten that someone else was in the room with her.
Suguru, her husband.
She turned to him; his hand still in mid-air, he couldn't quite mask the expression of hurt on his face.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It won't happen in public, I promise."
She took his hand and smiled at him in what she hoped was an affectionate way, but she knew she wasn't too good at faking emotions—this particular smile, Sei had told her once, registered somewhere on the scale between pity and barely sustained tolerance. None of this was Suguru's fault, she reminded herself. It wasn't his fault that he'd been spawned by the extended Ogasawara clan. It wasn't his fault that he'd been chosen as Toru's protégé. And it wasn't his fault that he didn't love her. Couldn't love her. Couldn't or didn't, what was the difference, though, really? The outcome was the same. They were both here, and they both knew what was expected of them next. They were lucky, Sachiko pondered, that they hadn't lived a couple of hundred years ago; people might have actually accompanied them into the bedroom to witness the consummation of the marriage. But again, witness or no, the outcome was the same. This would be the night Ogasawara Sachiko lost her virginity, and Ogasawara Suguru laid with a woman for the first time in his life.
"How about a drink?" Suguru asked, pulling away his hand and shuffling over to the cabinet.
"No, thank you," Sachiko said as she watched her husband pour himself a full tumbler of whisky. He hadn't touched more than a celebratory flute of champagne at the banquet, playing the gentleman groom to perfection. But the ceremony was over, and Sachiko looked on in amazement as Suguru put away the entire glass in three violent gulps. Why was it, she wondered, that men were held to a lower standard of decorum than women, whether in public or in private? It was, of course, a rhetorical question. Cultures around the world, including the Catholic culture of Lillian, connected women with attributes of sinfulness and guile. They were supposed to be born with these attributes, which meant they needed to be disciplined and policed—by others, yes, but much more importantly, by themselves. Women were taught not to trust themselves, to second-guess their own motives, to be self-conscious at all times, to assume there was something wrong with the natural state of things. And why? The reason was so simple it made Sachiko want to laugh. The reason was why she and Suguru were in this room right now: to propagate and protect some family's bloodline.
Suguru was pouring himself another glass. She needed to intervene, or this evening would end even more distastefully than it had to.
"Suguru, why don't you put that down?" Slowly, she walked over to him.
"I'm sorry," he said, letting go of the bottle and glass.
Sachiko arrived at his side, screwed the lid back on the bottle, and, on impulse, brought the glass to her own lips. Surely, she thought, a little shot of courage couldn't hurt. She took a sip, but the harshness of the liquor made her cough. Suguru laughed.
"It's late," she said, trying to mask her irritation. "We should go to bed."
"Ah yes, to bed," Suguru said, sounding a tad more sarcastic than Sachiko felt he was entitled to. Fair enough, this couldn't be easy for him either, but at least he liked sex in principle, and at least he'd done it before, and at least he'd get to do it with others again in the future, and at least he wouldn't have to bear any children.
Suguru seemed to have sensed that something was amiss, for he plastered on a charming smile, held out his arm to her, and led her into the bedroom. Once there, Sachiko let go of him and fled into the dressing room. Her wardrobe had already been taken there by the mansion staff. She noticed quite a few garments that she didn't recognize, and though she couldn't tell at first glance, she was pretty certain her mother had weeded out many of her old, favorite clothes, no doubt to make sure she looked the part of the respectable wife. She wrestled out of her wedding gown and put on a dark blue, satin negligée that looked like something from an eighties Hollywood film. Covering her exposed flesh with a black satin bathrobe, she braced herself and walked back out. Suguru had changed into a pair of wine-colored pajamas. He was standing next to the bed, pointlessly gazing around. When he saw her, he snapped to attention.
"I know we already talked about this," he said, "but I just need to ask one more time."
Oh no, Sachiko thought. Not this again.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he went on.
Of course I'm not sure, she thought. And of course I don't want to do this. But she said nothing.
Seemingly encouraged by her silence, Suguru pressed on.
"I told you," he said, "I have absolutely no problem with you taking a lover. I'm perfectly willing to accept any child you'd have as my own. That way, we wouldn't have to go through with this…" he raised his arms in a gesture of feeble revolt, "…this whole thing."
How dare you bring this up again? Sachiko thought. Do you really think you're handing me a lifeline, letting me off the hook in some way? Don't you realize that the only one you're letting off the hook is yourself? Funny, she mused. If this was Yumi standing across from me now, or even Sei, I wouldn't hesitate a second to tear into her for such a suggestion. But you are my husband. And so, I mustn't tell you anything.
She walked up to him and put a hand on his arm.
"I'm sorry," she said, amazed that she was apologizing for this, "but I won't sleep with anyone else. For better or worse, I'm married to you."
"What about artificial insemination?"
"People would get suspicious. Why would a newlywed couple need artificial insemination?"
"Well… what if we just waited for a few months and then told people we need medical help?"
"Is this some kind of game to you?" Sachiko couldn't help it—her temper was getting the better of her. "I'm the one who has to do everything! Have sex for the first time ever—with you! Bear your children! Raise them! Stay true to this… this… marriage! There's literally just one thing you need to do, a single thing—get me pregnant! Is that really so odious to you? If I'm prepared to do it, why aren't you?"
"Hey, I just thought that since neither of us actually wants this, it would make more sense to…"
"More sense? How would that make more sense? Do you think they'll let us go to the hospital alone? And how do you think they'll react when the doctor says there's nothing wrong with us? Or when they find out I'm still a virgin? How do you think that will play out?"
"I'm sorry. I…"
"Do you honestly believe you're doing me a favor here?"
"I…"
"There is no loophole, Suguru! This is what we signed up for!"
"OKAY!" Suguru shouted.
Frightened by his sudden outburst, Sachiko took a step back. Suguru closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and held out his hands to her.
"Okay," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I get it. Okay."
He was silent for a moment. Then, rather uncomfortably, he looked her up and down. It seemed like there was something more he wanted to say.
"What is it?" Sachiko asked.
"Well, seeing as how we're really going to do this… May I ask you for something?"
"Go ahead."
"Could you… could you remove your make-up? And maybe… tie up your hair?"
Sachiko looked at him with dead eyes. It had taken her stylists ages to fix her make-up and hair. But apparently, Suguru wasn't impressed. Apparently, Suguru wanted her plain.
"Will that make me look more like a boy?" It was a catty remark, and Sachiko regretted it the instant she made it.
"Probably not, but at least we can try!" Suguru rolled his eyes at his own comment. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice."
"It's okay," Sachiko whispered, turning away so he wouldn't see how close she was to tears. "I have to do it eventually, anyway."
Without waiting for a response, she rushed to the bathroom. She turned on the glamour lights around the mirror, placed her hands on the counter, and took a long look at her face, her professional make-up, her stylish hair. Who had it all been for, she wondered. Clearly not for Suguru. And clearly not for the people her father had summoned to the banquet, those despicable, rotten businessmen, their worthless trophy wives, the ostentatious widows and heiresses, and their perfumed gigolos. Not for her Lillian friends, who hadn't even been invited to the reception. Not for Yoko, who'd put on such a brave face for her petite soeur. And not for Yumi, whom Sachiko had prayed, in vain and against her better judgement, to see at the wedding one last time.
She stopped cold in her own train of thought. Such selfish complaints, she chided herself, scrubbing away at her make-up as if to erase her own frustration. Rituals weren't there for the sake of this person or that. They were there for their own sake, to give people the feeling they were part of something older than them, more permanent than them, something that would be there whether they were there or not, something to reassure them that life wasn't random, that there were rules, structures, forces in this world. Did those rules, structures, forces really exist? Or were they just a collective illusion shored up by a million hands? Her teachers at Lillian wouldn't have liked the idea. But to Sachiko, as she gathered up her hair, there was something heroic about it.
She glanced at the mirror one last time. Did she look any more like a boy than before? It was doubtful. Switching off the light, she returned to the reception room. There was no evidence of Suguru here. In fact, the room was so still and untouched that for a moment, Sachiko couldn't stop her mind from indulging in a ludicrous fancy. What if she'd just imagined the whole wedding? What if she'd just come home after a long day out and absent-mindedly wandered into the wrong quarters? Why go to bed here when she could just open the door to the suite, step outside, and walk to her own room? This was her family home, after all—who could say anything? Feeling strangely disembodied, as if watching herself from afar, she went over to the handsome double doors. Gingerly, she opened the right one just a crack.
"Sachiko-sama? Did you need anything?"
Two servants, one male and one female, were waiting outside the door. She had no doubt that her father had stationed them there. She knew they wouldn't stop her if she tried to leave the suite, but her father would be up in her bedroom in a matter of minutes. And the rest would not be pretty.
"Thank you, no," she said calmly. "I just wanted to make sure you were here in case you're needed. Good night."
"Good night, Sachiko-sama," the two responded in unison.
Sachiko let the door click shut and rested her forehead against it. She hadn't come to this room by random chance after all. She'd entered by her own choice. When she'd first heard about her engagement and hadn't objected, she'd made a choice. Every day since then, every day she'd stayed engaged to Suguru, she'd made the same choice. She'd made it when she sent away Yumi and Sei. She'd made it at the temple and the ballroom. And now, all those silent choices over all those days and years had led her into this room, and no choice she could make right now had a chance of stopping their gathered, invisible force. She turned around. Suguru was standing at the bedroom door. Most probably, he'd witnessed the whole scene. He walked up to her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be." He cautiously put a hand on her shoulder. "It's my fault. I've been selfish. I know this is more unpleasant for you than for me. But it's just…" he shrugged. "It's just too easy to play the little boy and have you pick up the slack. Because I know you will. Because that's who you are. Strong." He brushed a few wayward strands of hair from her face. "Responsible. Reliable. It's easy to let oneself go around you. Because you'll make up for it. Because that's who you are."
"Thank you, Suguru. That's kind of you to say."
She knew his words were true. And part of her was proud of it. As frustrated as she got with the irresponsible behavior of others, part of her welcomed it, because it meant that she could step in and take charge, stroking her ego by setting things right. But it wasn't right. It was pride. Pride made her assume she could handle what others couldn't. Pride made her bite off more than she could chew. Pride had brought her into this room tonight.
Suguru took her by the hand, and she let him lead her back to the bedroom. They came to a halt, facing each other, at the foot of the bed. He took of his pajama shirt. He looked pretty, Sachiko thought, with his subtle but defined musculature running like fine sand dunes all the way from his delicate neck to his arms and shoulders, down his perfectly shaved chest and abs to his slim, elegant waistline. He exuded a warmth that enticed the irrational side of her, making her want to pull him in, embrace him, and somehow, through sheer will, leap across the gap that kept them apart. She wished she could just erase it all, all that pushed her away from him, even the fact that he was Suguru, that she was Sachiko. Couldn't she just be an animal, with him as her animal mate? Couldn't she just abandon herself to the heat without thinking, just live it to the fullest, burn it out in living it, burn it out so thoroughly that she remembered nothing afterwards?
She caught herself, embarrassed at her own thoughts. They were so alien to her nature that she could hardly explain them to herself. Was she really so desperate about sleeping with her lawfully wedded husband that she'd rather retreat into a fantasy of bestial, anonymous sex? That was not her. That couldn't be her.
He took hold of the sash of her bathrobe, but Sachiko arrested his hand. "Please," she said, "let me do it myself. In bed. Alone. I… I feel too self-conscious."
"Of course." He let her go.
Without looking at him, she got under the covers and wriggled out of her clothes in as dignified a manner as possible. She took off her panties as well—the idea that Suguru should be the one to undress her, unwrapping her like a birthday present, was just too much for her. Finally, she shoved her clothes out of bed so they wouldn't get touched during the act. Only then did she look up at him.
"Come," she whispered.
Suguru stripped off his pajama pants. He stood naked before her now, his legs as shapely, and clean-shaven, as the rest of his body. And between them hung his penis. It was the first time that Sachiko had seen a real one of these. She'd glanced at some, against her will, in the random ads that popped up online, but Suguru's looked nothing like those on the internet, which always seemed huge, proud, erect, and menacing, somewhat like blunt instruments of torture. Instead, his was small and wrinkled, hanging limply from his groin. He was hairless down there as well, which made his member look like that of a boy, a naked, useless piece of flesh attached to an equally indifferent pair of testicles.
Clearly uncomfortable with her gaze, Suguru retreated to his side of the bed and slipped under the covers with her. Now they were both lying there, next to each other, staring at the ceiling, neither of them daring to speak or move. Sachiko was still processing the sight of Suguru in all his glory. She suddenly felt paralyzed by the thought that seeing—and doing—this would have to become part of her routine for years to come, at least until a sufficient number of children had materialized.
At long last, Suguru slid over to her. Placing his hand on her stomach, he started kissing her face. His lips worked their way from her forehead across her cheeks and down to her neck at an irritatingly slow pace, seemingly following some predetermined route. Each kiss was marked by a little breathing noise and left a tiny trace of moisture in its wake. All the while, their bodies made no contact except for the hand on her stomach and the lips on her face. The whole thing was so awkward that Sachiko felt pretty sure it couldn't be part of Suguru's sexual behavior with men. He might have thought that a girl expected this—perhaps he'd seen it in a movie somewhere. It was probably supposed to get her in the mood, but she wasn't in the mood, and he wasn't in the mood, and what he didn't seem to realize was that no amount of rehearsed foreplay would get them there. This needed to be quick and be over—for both their sakes.
"Suguru?"
"Yes?" He looked up from her collarbone.
"Can we just… do it and get it over with?"
Suguru sighed in relief. "I'm so glad you asked that. You're not really enjoying this, are you?"
"Oh!" Sachiko feigned shock. "How could you tell?" Despite herself, she had to giggle. Before long, Suguru joined in, and they were chuckling away like two children under the sheets, probably more to relieve the tension, Sachiko thought, than because she'd said something genuinely funny.
"Okay," Suguru said, "let's do this, then." He smiled. "Why don't you just… you know, spread your legs… and I'll see what I can do."
"Okay," Sachiko whispered.
Barely touching her body, Suguru climbed on top of Sachiko while propping himself up on his arms and legs. His chest brushed against her nipples, making her shudder at the unfamiliar sensation, but he didn't allow his body to rest on hers. Still in the same position, he grabbed his penis with one hand and tried to place it on Sachiko's vagina. But it was too soft; it didn't offer enough resistance to force its way into her, and no matter how much he touched her with it, it didn't get any harder. Sachiko noticed that Suguru was getting very uncomfortable. He was blushing, faintly perspiring, trembling with the effort of keeping propped up, and his eyes were darting all over the room, searching for something, anything to fix on, it seemed, anything but Sachiko herself.
For the first time ever, Sachiko found herself pitying him. Suguru had such a flawless persona in everyday life. He was suave, debonair, and could charm the pants off anyone around him, whether man or woman. Since their childhood, he'd always seemed to know just what to say and how to behave at any given time. And now, here he was, Ogasawara Suguru, the golden boy of the clan, the future of its business empire, desperately trying to insert his flaccid penis into the dry vagina of someone who had no interest in sleeping with him, and he was plainly at his wits' end. Sachiko didn't remember ever seeing him as exposed and vulnerable as he seemed at this instant. Those who were jealous of Suguru—and there were many, especially now—would have killed to see him like this.
"It's hopeless." With a profound sigh, Suguru slumped back down at Sachiko's side. "I'm sorry, Sa-chan. I just can't get it to work."
Sachiko took a deep breath. If she didn't want this whole marriage to end up as an object lesson in failure, and both of them as laughing stocks of the entire extended clan, she needed to do something.
"What do you normally do when this happens?" she asked.
"It doesn't," he whispered.
"But it… doesn't happen… with boys, right? You've never done it with a woman."
"You know I haven't."
"Well, then I guess your first instinct was right. I need to be as much of a boy for you as I can. Would it help if I turned around? You wouldn't see my face, or my chest."
"Maybe. I suppose. I don't know."
"Let's give it a try." Sachiko rolled over and lifted herself up on all fours. "Why don't we try it like this?"
"Okay." Getting up on his knees, Suguru moved behind her. Then, suddenly, she felt his wet hand on her vagina. Shocked by the unexpected contact, she leapt forward.
"What are you doing?" she shouted.
"I'm trying to get you wet!" he yelped. "I'm never going to get in there as long as you're dry like this!"
"Okay, don't do that." She couldn't help it—it was just too disgusting. How had he even gotten that hand wet? With his spit? Had his spit seriously just touched… But there was no use in thinking of this, none at all. Suguru had a point.
"How about this?" she ventured. "I'll try to get myself ready, and in the meantime, you do the same."
"Fine," Suguru said, sounding anything but fine. Still, a moment later, Sachiko could hear him rubbing away, presumably trying to get himself hard. Staying on all fours, she brought a hand down to her vagina and started touching it cautiously. To say she wasn't a very sexed person would have been an understatement—she'd never even masturbated before. The only times she remembered getting wet were in dreams, or sometimes in daydreams, when she'd lost herself in some unconscious reverie. But she'd never made a planned effort, and she most definitely hadn't used her hand to make it happen. Perhaps, she thought, it would help to remember those dreams. Not just to get herself wet, but to escape the here and now, to redeem what was, after all, her first sexual encounter. But no. Her whole being revolted against dragging her dreams, whatever they may have been, into this terrible moment. They would get sullied, instrumentalized, and one day, if by any chance she wanted to connect to them again, she would no longer find them as they were.
None of this was helping. She kept up the pretense of touching herself, but she felt just as dry as before.
"Can I say stuff?" Suguru asked suddenly.
"What?"
"It… it turns me on to talk during sex. Is it okay if I say stuff? It might help."
"Fine," Sachiko groaned in exasperation. "If you think it'll do something."
"But you have to promise not be offended. It's just a game." He hesitated. "And you can't laugh."
"Believe me, Suguru, laughing is the last thing I feel like doing right now."
"Okay."
For a while, Suguru was quiet. Then he grabbed Sachiko's waist with both hands and pressed his soft penis against her bottom. Sachiko gasped in surprise.
"You like that, don't you, you little bitch?"
Sachiko barely stopped herself from yelling at him. No one had ever talked to her like that, and she definitely hadn't expected her husband, on their wedding night, to be the first. But she reined herself in. He'd said it was just a game. He was simply trying to get off. She'd have to put up with it.
"You want me to fuck you, don't you?"
Sachiko didn't know if she was supposed to answer, but even if she was, she couldn't.
"You're a virgin little twink, aren't you? Never been fucked before, huh? Well, I'm gonna break you in. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll forget where you are. Hell, you'll forget who you are."
Suguru was rubbing his penis harder against her now, and Sachiko could feel something stirring in the little lump of flesh.
"I love fucking hairless little boys like you. You always squeal so good. And boy, will I make you squeal. You're gonna open that twinky little ass of yours, you're gonna open wide, and I'm gonna fill it with my cock. I'll fill it so good you'll itch for me. You'll itch for my cock up your ass when you're walking down the street."
It's a game, Sachiko told herself. Calm down. He knows where he needs to put it. Calm down. It's all a game.
"Fuck yeah. Yeah! Your ass feels so good against my cock."
This seemed to be true, for Suguru's member had grown quite firm and hot on her backside.
"Oh yeah. Ohhh! That's good."
Sachiko almost panicked when she felt a wetness on her skin. He couldn't have already ejaculated, right? She wanted to turn around, to wipe the disgusting fluid off herself. She wanted out of this position, out of this room, and, suddenly but blindingly clearly, out of this life. But she forced herself to stay still. With every fiber of her being screaming at her to get out, just leave, no matter the cost, she didn't budge. This was the moment she'd been trained for. This was exactly what a lifetime of self-denial and discipline was supposed to allow her to bear. What was happening right now would be over soon. One way or another, she'd survive it. But she wouldn't survive if she ran—at least not the Ogasawara Sachiko she'd spent a lifetime believing she was. And that was the only Sachiko she knew. And so, she stood still.
All of a sudden, she felt him hard against her vagina. He was forcing his way in. It was finally happening.
"Yeah, bitch. Open wide. I'm gonna fuck you till you drop."
Suguru pressed forward, parting her dry vaginal lips with little more than the brute force of his penis. Sachiko cried out in pain.
"Are… are you alright?"
"Just do it, idiot!" she yelled.
She seemed to have worried him, for he switched to quick thrusts, entering her ever so slightly each time before pulling out again. At first, this was less painful, but before long, Sachiko could feel all the dry rubbing chafe her skin. He wasn't even inside her yet, and she was sure that soon she'd be sore, perhaps even bleeding. But then, something unexpected happened. Her body started responding. She felt a warmth stirring in her vagina, a humidity spreading through it and out towards her lips. She definitely hadn't willed this. She wasn't enjoying what was going on. But it seemed like her body was reacting instinctively, as if in self-defense, to minimize the harm being done to it. Sachiko couldn't help but feel strangely betrayed, betrayed by her own body. She knew that getting wet would make this more physically bearable, but that wasn't all. It was also making her feel things. Things she didn't care to feel.
Suguru had noticed something. He was pushing ahead for real now. She felt a bit of it enter. Then, with the next push, a little more. Then, a little bit more. He was pushing so strongly that she braced herself so she wouldn't collapse on the bed. She felt a sharp pain, like someone had pinched her down there, but on the inside. That had to have been her hymen. And then, he was fully in. Thankfully, he wasn't talking anymore. He fucked her—there really was no other word for it—fast and forcefully, as if using her body to masturbate. Sachiko didn't make a sound, biting down on her lip so hard that it hurt, so hard that it distracted her, as much as it could, from the bizarre, revolting jumble of sensations invading her lower half and, from there, her heart and mind. Was this what animal lust felt like? If so, it truly was animal, for it was challenging her will, challenging her mastery over her body, and Sachiko couldn't stop it. Another few minutes of this and she didn't know what she would do. Would she whip around and tear off his head? Would she lose herself in this brutish, inhuman fucking? Both prospects seemed equally horrid. She looked down and saw a drop of blood on the sheet. Apparently, she'd bitten clean through her lip.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Sachiko felt her insides being flushed with a warm goo. It felt as if he'd just peed in her, except that the liquid was too thick and sticky to be urine. It was utterly repulsive. But at least it was over. Suguru had finished. He pressed himself into her with one final thrust, but it was more than she could take. She jerked away, tearing herself off his penis, hurting herself even more. She collapsed on the bed.
"Sa-chan…"
She didn't answer. She couldn't answer.
"Sa-chan, I'm so sorry…"
"Shut up!" Sachiko recoiled from the fury of her own voice. She hoped the servants hadn't heard. "Please, Suguru," she whispered, "just shut up. Just leave me alone." She crawled under the sheets, slid as close to the edge of the bed as she could, and curled up in a ball. "Please just leave me alone."
Suguru didn't make a sound. She was sure he felt pretty rotten himself right now, but she couldn't help it. He'd just have to deal with it. Especially after all the stuff he'd said. She wondered if that was all sex was to Suguru—a power game. She wondered if that was all sex was, period. As long as one side had a penis, it seemed it needed to be. Was that what attracted Sei to girls? The promise of equality? But it couldn't be. Power could never be equally balanced, no more between girls than anyone else. Lillian, with its hierarchies both formal and informal, had taught her that.
"Sa-chan?"
Again, she didn't answer. But Suguru sounded different now, as if all those ugly words had never passed his lips.
"Remember when we were kids, when we played at your summer house?"
She kept shutting him out, but of course she remembered. Two children under the sheets, just like now, nothing like now.
"Do you remember the nights? When you went to sleep? I used to sing you a lullaby. Your favorite one."
Of course she remembered. Once upon a time, before learning about the engagement, about his sexuality, even about sexuality itself, she'd adored Suguru. He'd been her idol, her childhood archetype of a crush, a friend, an older brother, even. He'd always taken such care of her. The perfect little gentleman. The future had looked so bright: she'd wait, the time would come, they'd marry, and they would be together forever. Well, they'd gotten married, alright. But they'd never been further apart than tonight.
And then, Suguru began to sing. He didn't touch her or even come close to her. But the melody was so beautiful, his voice so tender and caring. And once again, Sachiko couldn't help but marvel at him. There was something about him, a human core, a kind of basic decency that had somehow remained pristine in spite of everything that had happened since they were kids. Right now, singing her to sleep, he was no longer the unwilling husband who'd had to resort to the vilest abuse just to be able to sleep with her. He was that handsome, thoughtful boy again. And Sachiko, who hadn't shed a single tear throughout her wedding day, not when she'd been pronounced his wife, nor when she'd endured him inside of her, couldn't keep it in anymore. Soundlessly, she started weeping. And as Suguru went on singing, she could feel the melody mix with her tears in a river of water and sound. And as she'd done so many times as a child, she gently eased herself into its current and let it carry her away.
