The Queen’s Denial

Chapter 9 Chi

Chapter 9

Chi

I’ve always enjoyed sex. I’m not going to pretend I’m some buttoned-up, prim and proper young woman just to make others feel better. I’m very straightforward about the fact that I like a nice, hard, satisfying fuck, and I like it often. But sex with Andy… this new kind of sex that he’s introduced me to… I’m insatiable for it.

No man has ever treated me this way without getting a slap across the face in return. Andy is teaching me — training me — to be better at something I always thought I was a pro at already. To get the most pleasure possible, even if it drives me crazy sometimes. And he’s so good at it that I’ll do just about anything he says.

For the next two weeks, my father is in Japan on business, already back to the grind, which leaves Andy here at the house, free to fuck my brains out day and night. There is tons of time to teach me all sorts of new fun things.

Andy loves to role play, so I dress in all my favorite outfits for him, at his request. Once in a while, I change it up in order to reserve some sort of pitiful hold on control, and I surprise him. He acts like he would rather I follow his every order, but I know he likes my choices, for the most part. I think he’d approve of anything, as long as he got to use my body for whatever he wanted afterward.

Today Andy wears a suit and tie, horn-rimmed glasses that he swears up and down he just happened to find in his safehouse, although I’m certain he’s gotten them just for these games we’ve been playing. To finish the ensemble, he wears shiny black dress shoes. I wear one of my many schoolgirl outfits. They really pay off for skits on TikTok, so I have plenty to choose from, and he loves every single one of them. Today I’m a modest schoolgirl, with thick tights and a knee-length pencil skirt.

“Have you ever wanted to get fucked in the library, Chee-chee?” he asks me on this particularly hot, sex-filled day. My father barely ever comes in here, but even if he did, he knows I have fun. He may give me a whole lot of direction and remind me of my role in life often, but we stay out of each other’s affairs as far as sex is concerned. The library just happens to be two doors down from my suite in this mansion, and a lot further from his.

I avert my eyes from Andy’s, because I’m about to lie to him. Of course, we’re supposed to be playing a game, and it’s okay to make things up, but he’ll probably know I’m playing the role. “No, sir. No, I’ve never had sex in a library before. I just enjoy reading the books and studying for midterms.” I’ve had sex in this library many, many times. But at least I’m making sure we do it in one of the aisles that I’ve never fucked in.

There’s a glint in his eyes as I tell my fib, but he pushes past it, fingering the buttons on my plaid cardigan. “You know, you must be hot, wearing so many layers all the time.” He effortlessly undoes a button by laying his finger on it and pushing down, like a skilled pickpocket.

“Oh, thank you professor,” I say, in my meekest voice, as he unbuttons the rest with one more dip of his finger.

He pushes the cardigan off my shoulders, dragging his fingernails down my arms. “Isn’t that better, my dear?”

I swallow and nod, darting my eyes up to his face. I can’t help loving the look that he gives me. The one thing Andy doesn’t hide from me — and the only thing I’m always certain about when it comes to him — is his desire for me. His eyes burn right through me.

“Now, Ms. Yan, I have to ask. Why are you in the sex ed aisle of the library? Kama Sutra? Are you curious about this?”

I feign a wide-eyed, innocent gaze, looking all around me at the timeless classics that are definitely not about sex. “Oh my. I must’ve gotten lost looking for the 1900’s American History section. I was just trying to study for class, sir. I swear!” I know this is just a character I’m playing, but I’m really into it today, and I even feel my cheeks heat in embarrassment for this poor, dumb bitch who’s about to get pile-driven into the stacks by her professor’s huge cock.

Andy takes my chin and pushes it up. “My dear, you’re so flushed. You need to cool down. I can help you remove all of these excessive items of clothing.”

And then he’s kissing me, and pushing me against the bookcase. The books fall everywhere as he pulls my clothes off.

“Professor, won’t you get in trouble if they find out?” I ask breathlessly.

“I have tenure; they can’t fire me.”

I’m pretty certain that even a professor with tenure can get fired if they find him fucking a student in the library, but who am I to argue semantics?

“Sir, the ethical and moral implications of doing this while I’m a student in your class—”

“Shut up, you little cock tease. You know you want this too.” This is the part where he gets carried away. He stops acting like some nice, sweet lover and turns into a mean, severe, take-no-prisoners tyrant. I’ve never been wetter in my life.

“Sir, we—we can’t. If someone hears...” He smothers my mouth with his hand and holds my head in place so that I can’t move an inch. Not that this meek little bitch I’m playing would move an inch anyway.

“You’ll just have to be extra fucking quiet then,” he says, as he pushes me down to the ground, one hand still thrust against my mouth, and then the other pulling my braids. “I swear to God, if you make too much noise and alert someone to what we’re doing here, you’ll fail my course.” He releases my hair and rips my stockings off, groaning when he realizes I’m not wearing underwear. “Ohh, I know your secret now, Ms. Yan. You’re a dirty, filthy little thing, aren’t you?”

My breath stutters and I shake my head ever so slightly, truly feeling the fright and worry of being caught with my hot professor in these stacks of books.

“Yes, you are,” he says, as he sticks two fingers inside me and stretches me open. “God, you’re so tight. Are you…” he looks directly into my eyes, and I think each time he really forces himself to believe his next words are true, just a little bit. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

I allow my eyes to widen, but say nothing.

“Ah, you are. It’s my lucky fucking day.” The first time he said it, I broke character and laughed, and I had to endure an entire hour of edging until he finally let me come. So now I keep a straight face, which is easy to do, considering his huge hand is covering most of it anyway.

“I am going to rip this tight pussy open. You want to see what you’ll be taking today?” He doesn’t wait for my answer — he never actually wants one. He hurriedly undoes his slacks and shoves his extremely hard cock in my face, slapping my cheek with the velvety softness.

I think he believes this to be some kind of manly, demeaning, testosterone-filled move, but I love his cock in my face. It’s beautiful. Just the right length, perfectly straight, with ridging that hits every fucking button in just the right way. The thickness makes it a bit harder to fit into my mouth, but it just makes it better when he shoves it inside me.

He replaces his hand with his cock, plunging it directly between my lips. He leaves me there, head squeezed against plush carpet, to choke on it while he rips his shirt off. He gazes back down at me as soon as he’s done like an unforgiving god. “Look at how those pretty pink lips wrap around my cock. Beautiful.” I wear pink lipstick just for this. He seems to love the streaks it leaves on his cock, his shirt — everywhere.

He grabs the back of my head and yanks my braids up so that I move with him until I’m kneeling, his dick still hanging out of my mouth, my head backed up against the book stacks again. Then he sets a punishing pace, plunging into me, pushing himself deep into my throat again and again. He hasn’t asked for permission once, and for some reason, it’s everything I never knew I wanted.

He loves my gagging sounds, so even though I’ve gotten good at holding them in over the course of my dick-sucking history, I exaggerate every little heave I feel in my throat, choking and coughing around his girth.

Andy holds me down, “Your mouth was made for my cock,” he groans.

He calls me all sorts of names, and for whatever strange, unknowable reason, I revel in it. Just for this short period of time. Just for this stolen thirty minutes in the library.

He pulls out of my mouth without coming, as he always does, and I know what’s next. He’ll torture me until I’m ready to explode, and then fill me all at once and torture me more, give me far less than I need, and then suddenly, far more than I can handle.

He pulls me up by my braids again until I’m standing, before crashing his mouth to mine. He rips off my tight white t-shirt, but he keeps the skirt on today. He hikes it up my thighs as he lifts me onto his waist and juts into me all the way, filling me in one quick motion. We both moan into our messy kiss, barely able to keep our lips in place, but unwilling to break the connection there. He sets a vigorous pace, taking an ass cheek in each hand and palming them open, massaging until I groan into his mouth.

“That’s right; perfect, proper little Chee-chee likes to get fucked hard, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” I whisper against his mouth. I look up for a split second and see those horn-rimmed glasses crushed against my face, and for some reason it’s the sweetest, hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna—”

He stops moving inside of me abruptly, and my budding orgasm dies a painful death.

“No, please!” I whisper-shout.

He pinches my nipple and swallows my scream. “Someone might hear you, Ms. Yan. And if they do, I’ll have to ensure you can’t make a sound next time. And that would be a shame because then I wouldn’t get to see this pretty,” he nips my lips as he speaks, “pink,” nip, “hot,” nip, “mouth.” He grabs my jaw, pushing on the sides until I open wide to accommodate his tongue, anywhere it wants to go.

I sigh as he puts the tip of his cock to my opening and rubs. “Please, sir.”

“Please what, my good little girl?”

I feel blood rush to my face at the name. It’s because I’m pretending to be this perfect little princess. That’s all. “Please stick your cock in my pussy.”

He grunts against me, slipping the tip into me further. “Like this?” he asks, continuing his torture.

“No, all the way in.”

“How do you want it, baby? Are you really a good, sweet little girl?

I know what he wants to hear. “No. I want it fast. Hard.” I breathe out, mouth open, right against his neck. “Dirty.”

He pushes into me finally and we slam together with a collective grunt. Thoughts of being quiet dissolve quickly as we both work ourselves into a frenzy. I try to push him down to get on top, but I never win, and he easily overpowers me, grabbing me like a rag doll and throwing me back against the book stacks. Books fall around us as he pounds into me, squeezing and pushing my tits up, sucking on my neck as he grunts out against me with every slam of his hips. He makes me come again and again, until he finally spills into me, sweating, panting, and somehow continuing to hold me up, pinned against him and the shelves so tight I can barely breathe.

While the rest of his body releases with his orgasm, his hands tighten on my shoulders, and he pulls me down to lie with him amongst the spilled books. “Was this a good idea… or what?” he asks me as I clean up shakily, his casual arrogance on full display.

I know what he means — we both know how much I love books of any kind — but I pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What, sex? Sex is always a good idea, whether the actual sex is good or not.” I shrug. “But I’ve taught you a few things. You’ve done pretty well.”

He moves himself casually, but a moment later, grabs the very area I just cleaned and pushes into my very wet and sensitive core. I yelp as my entire body jumps. “Whoa! I can’t!”

Suddenly, his head is under my skirt. “Did you teach me this, Chee-chee?” I feel his hot breath on my center, just before he starts to suck relentlessly. I squirm and push his head away, exhausted and far too sensitive for more. “Andy,” I gasp, “seriously, I don’t think I can—” I can’t say anymore, because he sucks again, and it’s so overstimulating that the zip of electricity I feel through my body takes all my words.

He finally releases me a moment later, and I take the time to catch my breath instead of admonishing him, which might be a mistake. His face is still down there, stuck between my legs, and he fills the silence with his smartass mouth. “Maybe your dream wasn’t to get fucked against a stack of books. Maybe your dream was to get eaten out on top of them.” His voice vibrates through me, and against all imaginable odds, I feel another orgasm building. I definitely wouldn’t say it feels good — it’s too overwhelming. A mix of nails on a chalkboard and unbearable, painful pleasure.

“Andy, it—it feels—”

He sticks his fingers in and curls them up as he bites down, just a bit higher, and I jerk as the wave of my climax crashes over me. I clench my fist in his hair, my toes curling and my entire body going rigid as I squeal at the overwhelming sensation.

“Let’s try that again. This was a good idea, right, Chee-chee?” He grabs my chin and forces my face up to his. Our eyes meet and I see the challenge in them: will I fight back the way I always do? Or will I give in? This will be the rare occasion that I do the latter. I’m too tired to argue right now.

“Yes,” I breathe out, closing my eyes as my body tingles, and an aftershock twitches through me.

“You loved it, didn’t you, baby? You loved the way I had you bouncing on my cock.”

The discomfort of my final orgasm has subsided, and all I feel now is a warm, gooey, post-climax high. “Mmmmhmmm,” I mumble, as he locks his arm around the back of my neck and pulls me into him.

“God, even your sweat tastes good,” I hear him whisper as he sucks on my shoulder. I feel a bit like I’m in the first stages of waking up from an amazing dream, softly and sweetly.

“Mmm. Thanks,” I say dulcetly, before unabashedly falling asleep in this heaven of Andy, sex, and books.

*****

“Chichi-chan?” A voice rouses me from the dark, rich, luxurious blackness of my nap. Despite still feeling as satisfied as I did when I fell asleep, I jut up from my bed, thinking about where I was and who I was with, and the fact that it’s Daiki’s voice that I hear.

As I get my bearings, however, I realize that I’m tucked into my bed, safe and sound, in the tight white t-shirt I wore with Andy earlier, and some sleep shorts he must have put on me. Still no underwear, though. Maybe he wants to come back for round two later.

“Are you okay, Chichi?” Daiki asks from the door of my bedroom, snapping me back to the current moment.

I throw my bathrobe on and open the door. “Yes, Daiki-san. I was just tired. I didn’t expect you back for a few days. Is my father with you?”

Daiki shakes his head. “No, he had to stay back and take care of a few things.”

I nod my head distractedly. I don’t really care why he’s here. I just want to find Andy and see if he’d be up for watching movies and putting his head between my legs again.

“He has asked me to speak to you before his return, though. That is why I’m here.”

“Okay,” I say, as my attention moves back to him. My father usually leaves me out of things, unless I get in trouble. I’ve mostly had tutors for everything I’ve needed to learn about how life will be once I leave his house: the history of the Yakuza, what my role in politics will be, as well as the ways in which we work with various mafia organizations in America. I’ve even had tutors to teach me about the ins and outs of my father’s legitimate businesses, which makes sense because I will have to run them one day. When he needs to speak with me, it’s usually about someone that I’ll need to make nice with in the future once I’m married off.

“Would you like to join me for tea in the sunroom?”

I wouldn’t. I’d rather Daiki just told me what he needed to tell me, since he went to the trouble of coming all the way to my room to get me, and I’d like to know what this is about immediately. He barged his way into my suite, not for the first time at that, and woke me up, so it must be important. But, of course, I’m not about to say that to my elder, and my father’s most trusted guard.

“Ah, sure.” I look down at the bits of my body that peek through the bathrobe. My shorts are too short — I’ll have to change them. “Just give me five minutes?”

“Certainly,” Daiki says tersely, before leaving me to my business.

*****

I walk into the sunroom exactly five minutes later, where there is a steaming hot pot of mandarin green tea waiting for me. Daiki pulls my chair out for me. “Thank you, Daiki-san.”

“Dōitashimashite,” he replies, and I internally clench up. This is more serious than I thought if Daiki is speaking in Japanese, even though there’s no one else here.

As soon as he sits down next to me, I make eye contact for a split second, just so he knows that I want him to spit what he has to say out as soon as possible, and then I let my eyes fall to my tea. “May I ask why I have been called upon?” I ask in formal Japanese.

“Yes, of course, Sakura.” Daiki must sense my trepidation, because he uses the nickname he gave me when I was just a little girl, playing outside in the traditional cherry blossom trees lined up around the backyard garden. He would tell me I was just as elegant and beautiful as one, always in Japanese. It makes the impending conversation slightly less intimidating.

“Your father wants to begin your Omiai.”

I let out all of my breath. I knew this was coming, but I thought I had more time. Omiai is the Japanese version of an arranged marriage. I don’t know exactly how it will go, but from little bits that Papa and Daiki have told me over the past few years, I will have a handful of acceptable choices, and then be able to choose between them. I will meet them all, make a choice, and have a grace period of two months of engagement.

Of course, I’ve researched this thoroughly, and I know that this is not how traditional Omiai are done. This will be more like a mix between omiai and konkatsudo, or marriage hunting, with the help of my father and probably Daiki, since my mother isn’t in the picture. In the high ranks of the Yakuza, it has become more acceptable to introduce two young people and make sure they don’t hate each other’s guts before marrying them off. My father has always been hard, unyielding, and a bit of a tyrant, but I’m certain he has a soft spot for me and my happiness.

I know there’s no arguing with Daiki or my father about this, so I tilt my head. “May I have permission to ask a few questions?”

“Certainly, Chichi-chan. This is an open discussion.”

I swallow, feeling the pressure of dozens, if not hundreds of anxious thoughts bubbling to the surface, but I try to calm myself and choose just one. First and foremost, I want to know how much time I have. “When will we formally begin?”

“Your father would like you to meet the first match in one month.” I exhale some relief. A whole month to get used to my new circumstances. I can do that.

“Thank you, Daiki-san. How many matches will there be?” I long to ask all my questions at once, but I stop myself. I feel uncharacteristically flustered — anxious about how this will affect the life I’m living here. An image of the fucking horn-rimmed glasses Andy was wearing earlier flashes through my mind, but I blink my eyes hard and focus on Daiki’s answer.

“As I said, your father is still meeting with the heads of the eligible families in Japan as we speak, but there should be at least five or six suitable choices.”

As always, the more information I’m given, the calmer I get. I take a deep, centering breath and continue. “How long does he expect the process to take?”

Daiki considers the question for just a moment before he answers. “About four months. You will meet with each suitor over the course of two weeks’ time. You will be able to meet with them once more after that if you choose, and then you will pick one. You will become engaged and date for about two months while you set up the wedding.”

My father and Daiki have put an extraordinary amount of thought into this process. It is so different from what I have always expected it would be as a child, and from what I’ve read. It’s like my father took the ideas and catered them especially to what I would be able to handle — what would be best specifically for me. If I was someone prone to bouts of emotion, I might tear up right now. But as it is, I keep my composure so that I can ask more questions.

“What if I don’t find any of the men suitable?” Daiki’s easy answers to my questions thus far have made me bold. This is not a question I would typically ask of an elder. It’s almost disrespectful. But Daiki understands me well enough to know that I truly want the answer. I think I see a hint of a smirk before he gives it to me.

“You must choose one, Chichi-chan. You know at your level of society, there are few acceptable choices to be made. Your father is spending an extraordinary amount of time finding suitable matches that you can be happy with. He is finding young bachelors instead of old widowers, making sure that the family name is a good one, and there is no history of deceit or rumors of domestic abuse in the household. Your chosen husband will honor you as you honor him, Chichi.”

I nod and smile. I’m aware that this is very out of the norm for Japanese elders to say to their charges, but one thing I love about Daiki is that he’s sort of like what my father would be if he were able to be a little softer to me. They have the same mind, but I suppose since Daiki is the man behind the scenes, he can speak with less urgency.

Still, I know it was my father who must have set things up the way Daiki is describing. It would be very atypical to have a guard, even if they are your most trusted advisor, make decisions about your daughter’s betrothal process. He knows me, at least, and knows I’ll be extraordinarily uncomfortable without enough time to become accustomed to someone and make an informed decision on my future.

“Thank you for honoring me with your answers, Daiki-san. Do you have any knowledge about who the first suitor will be?”

“Your father has not shared his final choices with me yet, Chichi. Rest assured, they will be the finest and most honorable that Japan has to offer. You will have everything you need to make a satisfying choice.”

As always, Daiki’s words give me infinite comfort. “Thank you, Daiki. Is that all?”

“No, of course not,” he says in English, with a smile. He points to my untouched tea pot. “Now, you must enjoy your tea.”