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Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: After being trained by Dr. Fell, Tommy finally has an owner all to himself. Katashi Tanaka lets him design costumes and study their shared Japanese heritage, but Tommy keeps misunderstanding Tanaka's intentions. Can Tommy figure out how to please his master, and make his new role fit right? Originally published in Toy Box: Costumes and the paperback Dr. Fell 3: The Boys of Fell
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Sips, 2012 www.torquerepress.com
eBookwise Release Date: January 2012

4 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [35 KB]
Words: 6826
Reading time: 19-27 min.

Tommy stole a look at his sensei. He was just sitting, quite relaxed, despite this being the fifth hour of the flight back from Tokyo. Tommy tried not to squirm, but he was so tired that he was twitchy and restless. And so damn bored. Sensei had said 'no' to him watching a movie. How could Tanaka-sama just sit there? And expect Tommy to do so?

Sensei was so fucking inscrutable. Tommy gave himself a mental head slap for letting that stereotype in his brain. But it was true. Katashi Tanaka had the best damn poker face ever. And this was after months of intense efforts to figure out what his master wanted or was thinking. Dr. Fell was an open, if grumpy, book compared to this man. And Pol was a road map!

"Be still, boy," said Sensei softly. "We have spoken about your wriggling before."

Tommy dipped his head silently. Sensei didn't like to be spoken to unless necessary. And Tommy agreeing or obeying was taken as read, and not as worthy of speech.

"I am writing, boy. So do not disturb me."

Tommy was startled enough at Dr. Tanaka deigning to offer any elaboration that he didn't protest that his owner certainly was not writing -- he was just sitting there.

As if I'd dare argue, thought Tommy. Tanaka-sama was the strictest owner he'd ever had.

He cautiously settled back in the seat more. His owner was actually very generous. After all, Tommy was next to him in first class and not back in economy. And for a long flight like this, that was no small expense -- nor really a luxury. Tommy couldn't imagine spending over twelve hours crammed into a seat where he couldn't stretch his legs. He yawned. Once they'd added in security checks, a connecting flight, immigration, customs, getting baggage, and then, thank heavens, a car service home, it would be nearly a whole night and day from arriving at Narita Airport until they were back at Dr. Tanaka's American home.

And Tommy had to handle two extra bags filled with his shopping. While his owner had been in meetings and libraries, Tommy had been sent off to explore Tokyo with what seemed like an unending supply of yen and a Passnet card. By the time he'd figured out the subway system, and been to Shibuya and Shinjuku and then hit the Ginza, he was broke. He'd spent the last few days wandering around sightseeing anywhere his Passnet card could get him, sketching the fashions he saw in Harajuku, and living off the dinners he ate with Dr. Tanaka. He didn't dare admit he'd used all his cash. He could just imagine the lecture he'd have received from Fell about reverting to his old shopaholic ways. But this was vacation with mad money from his owner, not spending the rent or running up credit card bills. He had so much cool stuff, too! Lolita-Goth clothes, a bunch of J-Pop CDs, and some really smutty yaoi in Japanese. Even Hello Kitty trinkets for his friend, Charlie. And a surprise bottle of the very best sho-chu he could acquire given his limited conversational Japanese as a present for his Sensei.

He yawned again. Perhaps just remembering Japan would help him relax. He'd had some tranquil days with his owner out in public as Sensei took him to bathe in hot springs, and even to a tea ceremony performed by a geisha. Tommy knew that was what passed for a tease from Sensei. Their first meeting had occurred when Dr. Tanaka had said Tommy was a little punk who had made a hash of teaching Rinaldo the tea ceremony. Tommy worked on imagining the Zen garden at the temple they'd visited -- he traced the sand lines slowly behind his closed eyes, and mercifully drifted off.

When he opened his eyes, his owner was indeed writing. He was just completing a second handwritten page in Japanese. Tommy sat up straight and tidied himself. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to move -- just not to fidget and wriggle. Sensei clearly didn't appreciate what it was like to sit still for this long with the piercings Tommy had.

"Lunch will be soon, boy. Then I have projects to occupy you after they have cleared the food."

"Thank you, Sensei," whispered Tommy, and then smothered a sigh as he detected the tiniest sign of a smile at the corner of Tanaka-sama's mouth. His amusement was never good news for Tommy.

Hungry and bored as he was, Tommy's stomach suddenly felt nervous enough for him to select the small bento box option for lunch.

"Do you feel unwell, boy? Is the flying difficult?"

"No, Sensei, I think the, um, time changes are confusing my body."

Dr. Tanaka gave one of his characteristic noncommittal "heh" grunts, muttered "itadakimasu" before eating, and began his lunch of eggplant and cuttlefish over rice noodles. In America, they usually ate Western food at home in part, Tommy had realized during this trip, because of just how lame his attempts at Japanese cuisine were. It didn't taste bad, but it was miles from authentic, and Dr. Tanaka never asked for a dish to be made a second time. Instead, he regularly had sushi lunches and at least once a week went out to dinner at one of the two Japanese restaurants in the area even though they were nearly an hour away.

Tommy ritually said "itadakimasu" and, as always, repeated in silent English "I humbly receive." The Japanese phrase was instinctive now, but he always thrilled at its meaning. Dr. Tanaka had explained most Japanese just thought of it as "let's eat," but Tommy loved the expression.

He ate a ginko nut, and mused. In hindsight, Sensei had been very lenient in their first months together. He'd never beaten Tommy for his cooking even though it had obviously failed to please. But he was a tough master. Tommy had been frequently beaten for mistakes and failure to learn fast enough. And Tanaka-sama never mixed business with pleasure. His beatings were pure punishment -- no sex or fun, and attempts to flirt or seduce only made it worse. On the upside, once Tommy had been punished and, if necessary, educated about his ignorance, he was allowed to rest and the offence was never mentioned again -- unless Tommy repeated the error. Sensei didn't bear grudges or punish for genuine inability, Tommy concluded, but if you didn't shape up...

Tommy sighed. He'd thought he was a pretty good housekeeper after Fell and Pol, but Tanaka-sama had some really high and weird standards. One of Tommy's first beatings had been for poor vacuuming. Not missing dirt, or skipping an area, but for messy vacuum wheel tracks. His owner wanted the pile on his carpet in nice lines, not haphazard. Tommy still thought that was a crazy stricture, but he'd started enjoying getting the lines to look harmonious with the room.

And Sensei was surprisingly vanilla in bed. Tommy was frankly disappointed. He was getting plenty of discipline and structure, but no kink. He got fucked good and hard for sure, and Tanaka-sama never turned down a blowjob; however, Tommy had hoped for exotic shibari sessions and had been deliciously terrified of his owner at first based on his memories of Japanese porn. He had hinted, but Sensei had just corrected his use of shibari to kinbaku, and then nothing happened.

Tommy tried not wriggle and provoke a rebuke, but he had a hank of soft jute rope from a bondage store hidden in amongst his shopping, and his hopes for it were getting him aroused. Tanaka-sama had that effect on him. He was so infuriatingly calm, and Tommy was often inconveniently excited in his presence. Tommy was pretty sure they didn't love each other -- they'd never kissed for example -- but what did love have to do with anything?