An excerpt from "The Intern"

I spent a good portion of this morning wrapped up in writing one of the major scenes from "Sigma Epsilon Xi: The Intern"  It's the sequel to Sigma Epsilon Xi, which no doubt everyone visiting the blog has already read.  If you haven't, the first chapter is available here and you can pick up the e-book at Amazon or Barnes and Noble. 

If you're dying for a taste...

            Samantha was intrigued by the entire room.  Art work on the walls demanded closer inspection.  The black leather couch, modern in its simplicity, looked soft and inviting.  The woods in the room were dark, and most of the room was illuminated merely from the light that seeped in through the rice paper shoji from the conference area.  But rather than allow her the opportunity to inspect her surroundings, Takanada led her to the ottoman.

            “Remove your sandals, please.”  His voice was masculine and very strong, yet soft and warm as well.  Samantha slipped out of the geta, sliding them under the ottoman and out of the way.  Her pulse thickened and she realized that the time had come.  She swallowed once and licked her lips. 

            “Kneel,” Takanada said next, taking her hand and guiding her up onto the ottoman itself.  Samantha struggled with the kimono for a moment, but then found some grace.  She managed to kneel on the black leather circle, eyes down, hands palm up on her thighs.  It felt odd however to have her thighs pressed together.  She was used to being spread open in this position, available.  It was one of the common positions used at the sorority. 

            Takanada began circling the ottoman, examining Samantha.  After three revolutions he stopped in front of her.  “Release your obi, Samantha-chan,” he commanded.

            Samantha nodded, her breath quickening.  She reached down and quickly pulled the obijime loose, followed by the wide belt itself.  As it fell from her waist, Takanada caught it and carried it over to the black leather sofa.  He laid it carefully across the back and then returned.  Samantha’s kimono was still closed, but had loosened.  Takanada reached out, touching her chin, and then let his finger slide down her neck.  The warm finger tip parted the cotton kimono and Samantha straightened slightly.  Downward the touch went, eliciting a wanton shudder from the girl as his finger delved downward between her breasts, across her belly button, and then downward to her slit.

            He removed his hand before he touched her well though and Samantha moaned, eyes closed.  She felt him lean toward her, his hands coming up to touch her shoulders, and then the kimono started to slip.  It fell down her flesh, exposing soft white limbs, her rounded and bare breasts, a taut stomach, rounded buttocks, and then finally, the pink expanse of her shaven slit.  The kimono caught in the crook of each elbow and she turned her head to the left, letting her hair hide her eyes as he took in the sight of her.  Once more her circled her, letting his eyes explore the delightful crevasses and nooks of her body.  Finally he moved forward and helped remove the kimono, leaving her kneeling naked in the center of the black leather ottoman.

            He placed the kimono with her obi and then returned.  With gentle hands he repositioned her, spreading her legs to expose her slit, moving her shoulders backward to better present her bosom, and then to her surprise, positioning her own hands under both breasts, supporting them, offering them.  He touched one nipple gently, exploring with his fingertips as Samantha moaned.  Then he let go, stepping back.

            “I have business to attend too.  You will remain in this position until I return.”

            Samantha nodded.  “Hai, Takanada-san,” she replied.  He looked pleased. Then without another word, he walked away, leaving Samantha kneeling on the ottoman.  She heard the fusuma panel slide open and then close, leaving her alone.

            At first, Samantha had no problem holding the position.  But after ten minutes her body started to ache.  Slowly, she lowered her arms, working out the kinks and resting for a moment before once more cupping her breasts and lifting them upward.  Her eyes darted around the room, studying the hanging scrolls, the sculptures, wishing she could move closer and examine them.  Fortunately, the room was neither warm nor cold and there was no breeze.  After a little bit of time she detected a scent, sandalwood and camphor incense, that seemed to linger in the air.  Thirty minutes passed and she began to day dream, occasionally taking a moment to move and relax one limb before moving back into position.

            Her initial encounter with Takanada baffled her.  She expected him to take her, to use her.  Even thirty minutes later her sex was still wet, still expectant.  In desperation for mental stimulation, she gave into the idea of physical stimulation and while resting one arm, slipped her fingers through her swollen petals.  She moaned with need, wanting to masturbate but knowing such an action would be unforgiveable.  Instead she brought herself to the edge, but held off.  Once again she brought her hand to her breast and then began resting her other arm, once more tracing little circles across her clit and through the glistening folds between her legs.

            The sound of the sliding panel of Takanada’s office opening caused her to jerk upright, bringing her hand back up to her breast.  Her fingers glistened with her own juices and even some of the sexual lubricant had coated her nipple.  She trembled in fright, wondering if Takanada would notice her disobedience.  She wasn’t worried about punishment, but of a consequence far worse: being dropped off a the hotel and disappointing Calli. 

            But Takanada was talking on his cell phone, rapidly and in his own language.  Despite her intensive study over the last three weeks, Samantha could make nothing of it, even as Takanada left the office and entered the sitting room area.  He circled around her, studying her body as he carried on his animated conversation.

            Samantha could tell that he was displeased about something from his tone, but the context of it was beyond her.  Several times he even turned away from her naked body as he spoke sternly into the phone.  A moment later he sat down on the ottoman, just to her side.  As he continued giving orders to the person on the phone line, he lifted his hand and rammed his middle finger deeply into her sex, stirring her passion and causing her to gasp from the sudden penetration.  Her hips rocked as she finger fucked him, working herself to a frothing boil.  Just as she felt the oncoming orgasm, tightening around his digit, he pulled himself free and stood.  He lifted his hand to her face and pushed his goo covered finger against her lips.  Samantha opened her mouth and let him push his fingertip deep.  She sucked on him, tasting her own need, her own desire, her own desperation.  Then he pulled loose, wiped his saliva coated finger across her chest, and turned, walking away.  Samantha groaned, still struggling with the position he had set her in.  Her body was thrumming with helpless desire and she almost cried out when she heard the sliding panel once more open and close, leaving her alone in her torment.