The Daimyō’s Son

coccoonOne night she woke me, one kiss before her lips enclosed my cock. I latched my fingers in her hair. The sheets slid down my arm and over her head. My back rose from the mattress, but she released me saying: “I had a dream.”

“Of what?”

“I was the beautiful daughter of a fisherman living in a small Japanese village.”

“And?”

“The son of the powerful daimyō, Yamato Hosokawa, arrived with twelve men and commanded that the daughters of the village should be brought before him. We had heard rumors of the son’s erotic cruelties and tried to hide, but we were all found and brought before him. I bowed my head, with the other girls, but not before I saw his face. I had expected to see a cruel, lean man, but his skin was red with the heat of riding and his eyes seemed more inclined to laughter than cruelty. It was said that he liked nothing more than the hunt, but having grown weary he devised a new prey more to his liking.

‘This one,’ he said of the first girl, ‘is still too young.’

She curtsied and ran off. One by one, the younger girls ran off like fish that were cast back into the water to be caught a later day. Six of us remained. The young man smiled at us, then with a quick nod, the twelve samurai were upon us. They stripped us of our clothes. They tied our arms behind us, wrists to elbows, and forced us to bend over. They tied the braids of our hair to a leather cord that attached to a silver hook in our anus.

By this means our heads were drawn back. Small, ornamental antlers were affixed to our temples and a white tail stood straight from the hook penetrating us. Silver bells were affixed to our nipples and one between our legs.

‘Look at me!’ barked the young man.

But how could we? Our heads were drawn back as if we gazed at the sky. We could only bend over. We groaned when the devious hook was drawn more deeply into her bowels, humiliatingly forced to arch our backs, spread our legs, and lift our tails as though we wished to be mounted.”

“That sounds cruel,” I said.

“It was a dream,” my lover answered. “And I only felt pleasure, even the humiliation aroused me—the erotic cruelty.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“The daimyō’s son barked a brief command and one samurai brought him a chalice and another brought him a bow and quiver of arrows. The arrows were removed until there were as many arrows as young women. The daimyō’s son withdrew one of the six. It was not tipped with a blade but with a gold and silver phallus fully the size of a man’s.

“Then he said to us that he cannot hunt but twice a year. In the six months between hunts, he fills the chalice with his semen. He dipped the phallus-tipped arrow into the semen-filled chalice and let us see it. It was smooth, and slick, and gleamed as though wet with a woman’s womb and dripping with the onset of a man’s orgasm.

‘Now, my little hinds,’ said the daimyō’s son, ‘there are six slips of paper upon the priest’s door.’

We all knew where that was.

‘All there is for you to do is to take this slip of paper in your mouth before my arrow pierces you.’

He barked another command and a third samurai abruptly placed an hour glass at the feet of the daimyō’s son.

‘Well,’ he said to us, ‘run! You have until the last grain of sand before you are pierced by my arrows!’

We scattered, unable to stand up, unable to conceal the vulnerability between our legs.”

“That’s a terrible fantasy,” I said.

“It was a dream,” my lover answered. “The arrows could not harm us. They only promise an erotic fear.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“At first we ran together, but panic ensued. Some thought it quicker to go one way, others the other way. Four of us scurried into bushes like frightened hinds. We hid at first. We watched the other two flee, their wombs lifted vulnerably behind them. The sand must have run out, because we saw the daimyō’s son walk briskly, bantering with the samurai accompanying as though with old friends. Then he saw the other girls far ahead. One was on her knees, foolishly, drinking water by the roadside. When the daimyō’s son saw her, some distance away, he quickly lifted an arm and his companions silently stopped. He took an arrow from his quiver, dipped it into the chalice of semen, and leveled it with the grace of one who is a master of the art of archery.

The arrow sang through the air. The young woman, at whom the arrow was aimed, abruptly arched. The shaft protruded from her womb. A sudden stream issued from between her thighs, leaping into the air behind her, becoming spurts as orgasm wracked her, the young lord’s semen embedded deeply in her womb.”

“How could that produce pleasure?” I asked.

“It was a dream,” my lover answered.

“And how could she come so quickly?” I asked.

“Because we can only feel pleasure in our dreams,” she answered, “and the swiftness of our pleasure is equal to the swiftness of the arrow that pierces us.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“The four of us scattered into the woods like the frightened hinds that we had become. One by one the daimyō’s son unerringly pierced our wombs with his semen until only I was left. The bells at my nipples and clitorous jingled as I fled. I could see the priest’s door where the six pieces of paper hung. I only needed one. Even as I ran I heard the young lord’s laughter. I heard him bark a command and knew that he dipped the phallus of his arrow into the chalice of his semen, could hear the crack of leather as he nocked the arrow and drew back the bow, and knew that he aimed the tip at my womb.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“I awoke.”

“You woke?”

“Yes.”

“Then you escaped the daimyō’s arrow!” I said.

“No,” she answered, rising to her knees, straddling me. “There is no escape for me.”

“None?” I asked.

“I cannot escape my fate,” she answered.

“Is the skill of his archery so great that he pierces you even when you’re not dreaming?”

“Yes!” she answered, piercing her womb with my cock. The bow within my groin that her lips had drawn tight, that thrummed like a nocked cord between my thighs, was released and bathed her womb with my semen.

After the spasms of her little death subsided, I asked, “Then what?”

She leaned over me. She brought her tongue to mine with a little slip of paper on it. She kissed me, saying, “Dissatisfied with one day’s pursuit, my lord took me to his bed, and pierced me with his arrows every night thereafter.”

 

Latest Comments

  1. Princesse Crowned says:

    What delightful worlds you weave with words. Bravo, maestro. *tossing roses and other fragrant blooms*

  2. eenslaved says:

    This is radiant and made me shiver delightfully. So, so wonderfully erotic!

    • willcrimson says:

      Thanks so much for reading. :) It’s taken me while to figure out how to combine erotica with this sort of fairy tale atmosphere. It’s nice to know that it worked for you.

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