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Miwaku no Zakuro	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 2861 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, X Japan, or KISAKI, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Slow, haunting music filled the darkened corners of the room; the soft sounds of prayer bells and muted drums underscoring a low flute melody. A single, long stick of incense burned away, ghostly wisps of smoke drifting up to skitter along the ceiling, filling the space with a subtle chypre scent. Sealed away from the outside world, everything about the room took on a surreal, dreamlike quality. Kaoru’s movements were almost unnaturally graceful as he stripped himself down to his trousers, meticulously folding his jacket, shirt, vest, and tie into a neat pile on the table next to his shoes and socks. Kyo’s hakama was already there, a flimsy shield of heavy blue silk whose absence left him shivering in spite of the relative warmth of the room.
Kaoru slid the small stepping stool out from under the table and positioned it between the two wooden posts, taking a step back to ensure that it was properly centered before beckoning Kyo over. The blonde obliged silently, trying his very best to take solace in the fact that the frenetic energy plaguing his master already seemed to be waning a bit just in anticipation of this act. The stool was only twenty-five centimeters tall, raising him just over the older man’s level – an odd change in perspective. Kaoru circled him slowly, appraising him with an almost meditative sort of consideration. After a few laps, he seemed to come to a decision, nodding to himself and picking up the first bundle of rope and a smaller black square of cloth before coming to stand behind Kyo.
His master caught his nervous gaze in the mirror and offered him a faint smile. “Try not to be so tense. We’re going to be here for a while, and it will be more comfortable if you can relax a bit.”
The cloth was unfolded into a long strip of glossy silk, and brought up to wind three times around Kyo’s eyes before being tied off at the back of his head. The darkness it imposed was perfect; so starkly reminiscent of the days he’d spent in Time Out that it took every last shred of his will to force his muscles to stay lax as requested. As it was, the blindness pulled him so quickly into the still-damaged depths of his psyche that when the first touch of hands on his shoulders dragged him back, he jumped enough to nearly fall off the stool, a strangled noise of distress bubbling in his throat.
Kaoru hummed a bit to himself, unwinding his first rope. The blindfold was one of his favorite aspects of this style of play, but it made it far more difficult to read his pet’s stress level, which was crucial on normal days, let alone their first bondage session. Usually he could anticipate when the younger man was approaching a breaking point so long as he could see his eyes. Leaving Kyo’s hands free for the moment helped a bit – the blonde was incredibly expressive with the subtle curling, splaying, and clenching of his long fingers – but he needed something else to monitor to be sure.
“Tell me a story, pet,” Kaoru murmured smoothly into his pet’s ear.
Kyo latched onto that voice, and the hands snaking ropes along the back of his neck, with every fiber of his being, because those things didn’t exist in Time Out, and served as anchors to the real world. He could handle the darkness, as long as Kaoru’s presence kept the demons at bay.
“A… a story?” he breathed.
“Yes.”
The ends of the rope began to wind their way down his chest, Kaoru’s hands brushing against his flesh as he wove them around one another into skillful knots and bands. A gentle press of thin palms encouraged Kyo to raise his arms a bit to make room, and he did his best to remain in the position he was guided into.
“W-what kind of story?”
“Any kind you like.”
Kyo swallowed and cast about desperately for a myth or folktale through a dizzy haze of worry and wariness. Being robbed of his sight was making his skin hyper-sensitive, and the slightly-rough texture of the cool jute rope was contrasting wildly with the smooth warmth of Kaoru’s hands, sliding over every centimeter of his torso. It was getting to the point where even a light brush over something as innocuous as his shoulder gave him goosebumps. He started telling the first tale he could think of; Yotsuya Kaidan, a well-known ghost story about betrayal, murder, and revenge. It was a story that Kaoru was very familiar with – he’d seen movies and kabuki plays based on the tale more times than he could count – but he listened closely to the tones of his pet’s voice as he worked.
As ropes wound their way around and around his torso, hooking and knotting and weaving betwixt and between one another in an endless dance, Kyo spoke at a steady pace. His voice wavered and broke, however, as his thighs were urged to spread and the rope ends made their way between his legs, winding into careful loops around his genitals. Kaoru wasn’t touching him any more than was strictly necessary to properly arrange the ropes, but nor was he making any particular effort to avoid contact. Hearing his pet’s distress, he took a moment to smooth one hand soothingly over the younger man’s quivering belly.
“Shh, you’re alright. Tell me what happened next.”
Kyo swallowed. He could hear Kaoru’s breathing, slow and steady, and found himself matching cadence with it to calm himself as he told the last bit of his story. Any time things became hard for him to handle, and his voice would quiver tellingly, his master would murmur reassurances to him, waiting until he was calm enough to continue before carrying on. At some point he had altered the pace of his speech to follow the rhythmic wrap-tug-knot-slide of Kaoru’s motions, and it lilted now as the ends of the rope came up to coil several times around his waist. It was tied off to form an intricate harness encasing his entire torso and hips, leaving his limbs completely free to move but fitting him so closely that he couldn’t inhale too deeply without straining the bonds.
“You’re doing very well. Tell me another,” Kaoru prompted soothingly.
Kyo started up again – offering the Grimm Brothers version of Snow White this time – as he felt a new rope winding its way around the coils at the waist before beginning to wrap-tug-knot-slide down the length of his left leg. Had he been a bit more focused, he might have appreciated the care Kaoru was putting into everything he did. The ropes were kept precisely tight enough to hug his flesh closely without cutting off or excessively straining circulation to any part of him as an elaborate casing was formed around each of his legs, one at a time. As it was, he struggled to keep his voice steady with a flush forming on his cheeks, increasingly unnerved by his binding. Still, he could move, but now he would only be able to walk, the newest binds preventing him from bending his legs enough to run. He was effectively hobbled.
Kaoru paused in his ministrations long enough to plant a light kiss on the skin just above Kyo’s navel, and the blonde shivered in response, fingers splaying and toes curling.
“Don’t you know any stories with happy endings?” Kaoru wondered.
Kyo shook his head slowly. He was rapidly becoming overwhelmed by a steady surge of conflicting emotions he couldn’t even begin to identify, welling up inside of him with every twist, coil, and knot of the binding ropes. He had expected to be nervous through this procedure; it only made sense, as he was rendered more and more helpless to his master’s whims as time crawled on. But whatever these new sensations were, they were making him dizzy, leaving him raw and aching inside.
Kaoru collected his next rope and moved to stand behind the younger man, running a fond hand through soft blond hair. “You’re doing wonderfully, Kyo, I’m very pleased. Tell me another story.”
Kyo’s voice hitched as his arms were brought behind his back, struggling to remember a Bram Stoker story called the Squaw that he’d read nearly a dozen times, about a mother cat seeking revenge after a tourist kills her kitten. He was having difficulty staying calm with rope slowly making its way up and down and around his arms, binding them tightly behind his back. It pulled his shoulders back and left his chest and belly exposed, vulnerable. The bindings wrapped all the way from his wrists to his upper arms, completely immobilizing them, and he had to pause his story more than once to pant shallowly in an attempt to keep himself stable.
By the time he was finished with his tale, the arm rope was secured to the back of his torso harness, and he was wrapped neck to ankle in an intricate web of tight, unforgiving bonds. The fleeting touches of hands over his skin disappeared, along with the faint scent of Kaoru’s cologne and the lingering heat of his body nearby. Over the pounding of his heart and the faint music still thrumming along in the background, he couldn’t hear so much as a swish of fabric or a whisper of breath. Kyo trembled as panic washed over him.
‘W-where’d He go?’
‘Did He… did He leave?!’
‘I’m… all alone?'
'I can’t be all alone!’
‘What if something happens?!’
He flexed and squirmed in his bonds, a frantic, keening whine escaping him as he found the ropes completely unyielding. “M-Master…? Kaoru?!”
His master’s calm voice came from his left, only a little further away than it had been before. “What’s wrong, pet?”
The panic unraveled a little and he huffed anxiously, “Don’t…”
‘Don’t make me do this any longer…’
‘Don’t let anyone hurt me…’
‘Don’t sto-…!’
“Don’t leave me…” he whispered.
There was a short pause and he thought he might have heard the faint hiss of ropes sliding against one another, before the warmth, the cologne, the steady breathing returned. A hand traced soothingly over his cheek and he pressed into it, shaking.
Kaoru pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to his pet’s forehead, smiling against the smooth flesh with a promise. “I’m not going anywhere, dear pet. How could I, when you look so damned beautiful like this?”
A new rhythm began. Kaoru would move away for a few minutes, and Kyo would hold his breath listening to the barely-audible whispers of his movements, then he would come back and weave the ends of his current ropes through those wrapped around his pet. Kyo was slowly guided, one rope at a time, to turn slightly to one side, his back bending into just a touch of a curl. He couldn’t focus enough to tell anymore stories, and his hands were flexing nervously at his back, so every time Kaoru came back, he would pause his ministrations to offer his pet some comfort; a kiss planted on a straining shoulder or sweat-slicked neck, a light stroke of the hand down a shivering back. Kyo wrapped himself in each of these reassurances, binding his frantic heart with them just as jute ropes bound his trembling body.
One of his legs was brought up just a bit, bent at the knee, and ropes were steadily wound through the one arranged around it. It took a few minutes, but Kyo found that he had little trouble balancing, supported by the ropes that had already been affixed to his torso. When the leg was released, he found he couldn’t move it in any direction; it was secured in midair. Then the hand landed on the back of the leg supporting his weight and tugged, and he whimpered nervously.
“Let go, pet. I won’t let you fall.”
It took a couple of tries to obey. Blindfolded, knowing he was standing on a narrow stepping stool, Kyo was deeply reluctant to surrender his last means of self-support. Scrunching up his face and bracing himself, he took a breath and forced his leg to relax into Kaoru’s pull, immediately falling-
‘Wh- what…?’
-not so much as a single centimeter.
“Good boy.”
The ropes woven around him tightened a bit – hardly enough to even be noticeable, the pressure was so evenly distributed – and suddenly he was suspended in what felt like freefall. Whatever Kaoru had tied him to was more than strong enough to hold his weight. His leg was strapped in alongside its twin, then released, and he heard Kaoru finally come to a stop. There was a long silence. Squirming a little, experimentally, Kyo found that the ropes that had been attached to his bindings were too taut in too many directions to allow him to move anything up or down, or front to back. There was a little bit of wobble side-to-side, but it made him more than a little queasy to sway that way with so little sense of where the ground was.
“Ka-… Kaoru…” he whispered shakily.
He heard a zipper, and the unmistakable sound of flesh sliding over flesh. He knew what it meant, and felt an odd little tremor wash through him at the idea that just by hanging here, he could have such an effect on someone like his master. He felt his cheeks flush with as Kaoru’s breathing sped up, then hitched, just before a sticky, liquid heat splashed over his legs. A few minutes later, there was the sound of footsteps, then the ~whir-click-beep!~ of what could only be a camera. Both sounds repeated themselves, pacing in a slow circle all around him, and he bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling now, couldn’t quite reach it to identify, but it was a shuddering mess swirling just under the surface and he felt liable to burst with it at any moment.
Then thin hands came up to remove his blindfold. He could suddenly see himself in the massive mirror; naked, ropes coiling intricately all around his frame, suspended in the center of an enormous spider’s web stretched between the two wooden posts. His body was straining, every muscle clearly outlined and glossy with a fine sheen of sweat, a splash of cum painted across his thighs. To his utter shock, either due to adrenaline or something else, his cock was standing at full attention, nearly dripping. It was perhaps the first time in his life he'd ever considered himself beautiful without so much as a stitch of clothing or a brush of make-up. Kaoru loomed behind him, watching his reaction in the looking glass with eyes gone velvet black with self-indulgent bliss, and slid a tattooed hand around his erection, stroking slowly.
"Nnh! Ah... Ma... Master, please, I..."
Kyo felt a thousand confliction emotions slam into him at once and gasped at the barrage. He was vulnerable in his bindings, but safe locked away in this secret room. He was constricted by so many ropes, but was naked and flying in midair. He felt cherished for his master’s devotion to wrapping him so beautifully, even as he felt used for the man’s pleasure. He was a victim in Kaoru’s web of sin, and yet the glossy look in the man’s eyes, and the sticky stain on his thigh spoke of the power he possessed over him. He felt like he was dreaming, even though the clinging constriction of countless ropes assured him that this was all too real.
He should be terrified; he knew he should be terrified because he was absolutely helpless in every sense of the word and he couldn’t move, which was doing horrible things to his baser human nature which screamed with panic at the immobilization. But at his core, he clung to the faith that had held him together this entire time; that Kaoru wouldn’t let his precious pet come to harm, because he needed him and almost seemed to… treasure him, somehow. With that thought resounding in the dizzy haze of his mind, Kyo let himself fall into the overwhelming surge of emotions and screamed as his world went black and his own heat splashed up over his belly.
"Beautiful…"
Kyo didn’t find his way back to himself for some time. The incense had burned out, the music had played itself to death, and he was free of the ropes, only faint red pressure lines across his skin standing testament to their existence. Kaoru was sitting cross-legged on the floor, stroking his hair and murmuring reassurances as he lay curled up in the older man’s lap, sobbing his eyes out under the strain of what had to have been the most emotional climax he’d ever experienced. In one hand, he was clutching the band of black silk that had held him in darkness for the past several hours and had forced him to rely on Kaoru to stave off the demons in his mind as well as real-life monsters that would harm his flesh.
Kyo didn’t fully understand what it meant, or why he needed what it represented so badly, but he would cling to that silk – and to Kaoru – for hours in the aftermath of his first shibari session.
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Miwaku no Zakuro