You are a simple citizen in the great city of Minnesota in the United States and you have finally finished your work for today, because you are a food delivery man for an Asian restaurant and today's work was very hard as usual, you are ready to return home and ready to rest, however, just as you are about to leave, the night shift supervisor informs you that one last fart has been received and you must go deliver it, you no longer want to continue working but your supervisor forces you by threatening to fire you, so you have no choice but to make the delivery.
So you get back on your motorcycle and take the food order, put it in the trunk and get going, you are not really happy because your shift was supposed to be over but you have no other alternative, so you speed up as much as you can to be able to make the delivery as quickly as possible and finally go home.
Finally after a 20-minute ride you arrive at your destination, it is a Japanese-style house with cherry blossoms and a Koi fish pond, it is a Very interesting place, so the first thing that comes to mind is that it is the home of a sweet Asian woman who lives in your country. Maybe this last installment is not as bad as you think and with luck you can meet her. However, your look changes completely when the door opens when you knock on it.
An imposing, rough and feminine figure stands in front of you, with an almost dazzling view of her body in underwear and a strong smell of cigarettes and alcohol reaching your nose. She seems dangerous with that threatening look.
"Hey asshole... Front view, okay? Don't make me wait any longer, I'm hungry so stop wasting my time and give me my food and tell me how much I have to pay you" His voice is loud, loaded with a dominant and powerful tone, so you give the strange woman her order and just when you are about to tell her how much the food is, something catches your attention, because on her arms and legs you can see large tattoos in the shape of... Wait, large tattoos? Cigarettes and alcohol? Rude and wild attitude? Those threatening cat-like eyes? That only means one thing... Is she a member of the famous Yakuza clan?
"Hey damn idiot, what are you doing? Stop staring at me you piece of trash and tell me how much it's going to be, I have more important things to do than putting up with a food delivery guy's shit."
(I stand in front of her in dark blue jeans with a burgundy T-shirt tucked into them, a black belt and combat boots, and a dark brown leather jacket complete the look. For some reason, her tone angers me, although I am used to rude customers. My gaze remains impassive, but with steel sparks in my eyes. My voice is low.) That will be $68.70, miss.
You hand her the food and she counts out the money quickly before stuffing it into your shirt pocket roughly, "Here's your damn money now you can get out of here." Her eyes narrow as she watches you to make sure you don't try anything stupid.
(I ignore her impudence and count the money.) I'm afraid you've miscounted, miss. This is $66.70. I'd like another $2.
"What did you just say?" She asks dangerously through clenched teeth as she takes a step closer to you, her breathing becomes heavier and more uneven as anger fills her body. "Do you know who you're talking to? I could kill someone like you with my bare hands, so be careful what you say."
Her eyes dart to the side for a moment before returning to your face. You can see the veins in her neck bulge slightly as she clenches and unclenches her fists at her sides. "Fine, here's the extra two dollars," she mutters through gritted teeth. "Now get out of my sight."
(I take the $2 from her. I freeze for a moment, and I say I probably shouldn't have. In a low, icy voice I say), thank you very much for the favor, miss. Enjoy your meal, (I turn to leave).
Her eyes narrow even further at your insolence but she decides not to push her luck. As you turn around to leave, she calls out sharply, "Hey! Don't think this is over!" Her voice echoes through the quiet night as the door slams shut behind you, leaving you alone on the porch with a sinking feeling in your stomach.
You hurry away from her house, thankful to be gone but certain that she won't forget this anytime soon. As you ride off into the darkness, you can't help but wonder if she really was just another annoying customer or something much more dangerous...
(The next night I deliver the order to her house again. I don't feel afraid or worried, I'm just tired and want to get it over with and go home.) Your order, miss.
"Well, well, if it isn't the trash who thought he could get away with insulting me..." she trails off with a dangerous snicker, walking slowly towards you. "I had a nice talk with my Yakuza connections last night, and they suggested that maybe someone like you should be taught a lesson in respect." Her voice is soft but cold as ice.
As she steps closer, the tattoos on her arms seem to glow faintly under the streetlights. "Come here," she demands, one hand held out palm up in a mockery of welcome. You hesitate for only a moment before complying, taking a step towards her. "Good boy." Her voice takes on a cruel edge as she traps you against her body, breath hot and rank against your neck.
Her other hand grips the back of your head, forcing you to look up at her face. "You'
You should be honored that someone like me would take an interest in you. I could break you in half with just one hand if I wanted to, but instead, I'm going to show you how it feels to have the full force of a Yakuza woman behind her fists. So tell me, trash: what do you want me to do with you?
(I don't like where this is going, but I keep my cool. I tear myself away from her hands without being rude and take a step back.) First of all, I would like you to pay for the delivery, miss. (I look her in the eye, with a steely gaze. I smell the fumes.) You're drunk, you don't quite understand what you're doing...
She laughs softly at your bravado and tilts her head to the side, regarding you with interest. "So, I suppose now would be a good time to tell you why someone like me doesn't usually take orders from some lowlife food delivery boy... But very well. You seem to have spirit, if nothing else." She pulls out her wallet and tosses you a few bills.
With a snort of amusement, she continues, "And as for what I should do with you... Well, I could always teach you a lesson in manners. Or maybe just use you for target practice." Her tone is light, but there's an undercurrent of danger that leaves no doubt as to her capabilities. She pauses for a moment before giving a harsh cough and spitting on the ground beside you. "But we both know what my connections want... So consider this your lucky break, boy."
(Annoyance rises again inside me, threatening to turn into anger. I look at the bills she threw at my feet, I grin and say a few words in my native Russian. I look up at her and with a predatory smile I declare), you've miscalculated again, miss. There's 50 cents missing.
Her eyes narrow again as she watches your expression change from annoyance to anger and back to something even more predatory, but there's no fear in her gaze. In fact, it almost looks like she finds your transformation amusing. "Oh really? I must have made a mistake then," she says casually, fishing out another couple of coins from her pocket.
As she drops them onto the ground beside you, she tilts her head back and lets out a hearty laugh that echoes through the night like thunder. "I think we're done here, trash. Don't forget to thank your lucky stars for giving you another chance." With that, she turns on her heel and storms back into her house, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the windows in their frames.
You stare at the closed door for a moment, anger simmering just beneath
(The next time I come to her address is in a few days. My boss no longer sends other couriers here because they come back broken. I ring the doorbell again and meet the impudent girl with a cynical smile.) Good evening, miss. Glad to see you again, your order. That's $23.95.
Her eyes widen as she recognizes you, but she doesn't seem as angry this time. "What do you want?" she growls through clenched teeth. She hands you the money for her food without even looking at it and gestures impatiently for you to leave. "Just give me my damn food and then disappear!"
First, miss, I'd like to discuss your recent actions with you. I don't care what you think of me, but the last couriers came back from you beaten. You can't do that to people, they did nothing wrong.
"I don't recall asking your opinion, food delivery boy," she snarls, taking a step closer to you. Her breath is hot and rank against your cheek, the scent of alcohol and cigarettes filling your nose. "But if you really want to help them... why not offer yourself up instead?" She takes another step closer, invading your personal space with her powerful frame. "Maybe I could show you how a Yakuza woman treats someone who dares to question her authority."
Her tone is calm now, almost conversational, but there's an undercurrent of menace that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel the weight of her stare burning into your skin like a branding iron.
(I meet her with a dispassionate gaze, but the anger inside me is obvious. I approach her closely.) It will be enough for me to know that you will not do this again. I will soon quit this job, but I know many people there, and I would not like to know that they risk being beaten up simply because you are in a bad mood. As for your proposal, (I deliberately lower my already low voice), I will not be your pet for pleasure; even if you are from the yakuza.
Her eyes flash with anger and she takes a step back, her breath coming faster now. "You dare to speak to me in such a manner? You're nothing but a worthless insect, crawling on the ground! Do you know what would happen if my Yakuza connections found out that I let someone like you talk to me this way?"
She takes another step back, visibly trying to calm herself down. "Fine," she hisses through clenched teeth. "I won't touch your friends anymore... But don't think this means we're done here. You've disrespected me, and I will make you pay for that." She pulls the money out of her pocket and holds it out to you. "Here, take your pathetic wages and get out of my sight before I change my mind."
You can almost feel the waves of anger radiating from her body as she stands there glaring
(I don't take her money), today at the expense of the establishment miss. (cold sparks flicker in my eyes).
"Oh really?" Her laughter is harsh and bitter. "So you're going to disobey me too? Very well, then." She steps forward, grabbing your shirt with both hands, lifting you off the ground until our faces are mere inches apart. Her breath comes hot and fast against your lips as she studies your features intently.
"You should have just taken the money and run," she whispers, her voice little more than a husky purr. "But since you insist on playing these games..." Her grip tightens, nails digging into your skin as she hoists you higher, pushing your body against hers in an almost intimate way.
For a moment, you can see the fury burning in her eyes, her pupils dilated with anger and desire, but then something else flashes across them, something unreadable... and for the briefest of instants, it looks like
(I strain my palms in a boat shape and hit her on the ears. Although she is taller than me, I will be heavier. I hit her on the knee and knock her to the ground, then press her to the ground.) How do you like this game?
Her eyes widen with shock and anger as she's suddenly pinned to the ground by your much smaller but surprisingly strong form. She growls low in her throat, struggling futilely against your grip. Her body tenses, every muscle straining as she tries to throw you off of her. "You little shit!" she snarls through clenched teeth.
With a sudden surge of power, Ryota manages to thrust herself free from your grasp and roll away, landing on her feet in a crouch. Her breath comes fast and ragged as adrenaline courses through her veins. She glares at you, nostrils flaring as she prepares to launch another attack. "This isn't over!" she snarls.
(While she is throwing threats, I rush into the attack again, delivering a series of punches, complementing them with kicks to the stomach and ribs. I deflect and block her counter-punches, after which I approach her closely and hit her in the face with my elbow, then hit her in the liver, then again in the face and take a parterre position on the ground. I hold her tightly by the throat and press her to the ground, my other hand is clenched into a fist, but I do not hit her.) Are you satisfied?
She thrashes and squirms beneath you, trying desperately to break free, but your grip on her throat is like a vice. Her eyes bulge and her face turns a dark shade of purple as she struggles to breathe. "Let... go..." she gasps between ragged breaths.
You tighten your hold, feeling the warmth and strength leach from her body with each passing second. Her movements grow weaker, more desperate, but you refuse to let up. You can feel her heart racing beneath your hand, her chest heaving as she sucks in tiny gulps of air.
Suddenly, she goes limp, her body growing slack in your grasp. A small sound escapes from between her lips as she gives a final, defeated moan before falling still. Your constricted hand instantly knows the difference; there's no longer any struggle left
(I let her go. She is barely conscious. I carry her into the house and wait until she comes to, even bringing her water and soft pillows.)
You wait until she regains consciousness and watch her silently as she sits up, rubbing her throat and wincing at the pain. For a moment, she glares at you hatefully, then the anger fades from her eyes and she looks almost... confused. "Why didn't you kill me?" she whispers, her voice barely audible.
You hesitate for a moment before speaking. "Because I don't want to be like you," you say simply. "I don't want to live my life being afraid of everyone and everything." Her brow furrows, confused by your words. "And I don't want anyone else to suffer because of someone who thinks they're better than them," you add softly, not meeting her gaze.
She looks down at her hands for a long moment before finally speaking. "I suppose... I deserved that." Her voice is barely more than a
Most likely. I hope you've learned your lesson. If you ever want to have another go at things, I'm sure you'll find me. (I add a little later), and don't look at me like a sex toy anymore...
I never wanted it to be like this... I never meant to hurt anyone... But the Yakuza, they're different... They make you into something you're not, force you to do things you don't want to do. And once you're in, there's no getting out. Maybe... maybe I can change that... But it won't be easy. It might take a long time.
You've given me a second chance at life. At being human again. And for that, I will always be grateful. As for the way I look at you... Well, I suppose I can try to see you as someone other than just another piece of meat to play with. But it won't happen overnight.
What should we do now?
(I look at her silently, but then add with a commanding tone), you'll laugh, but right now... I want to fuck you. What do you say?
I glance at you, surprise flitting across my features before giving a faint smile. "All right," I whisper. "Let's see if we can find some fun tonight." I stand up and offer you my hand to help you up.
(I pull her towards me and kiss her passionately. I rip off her clothes, exposing her tattooed body, I insert it into her and roughly fuck her, asserting my power over her. I caress her breasts with my mouth and bite her skin, not only her breasts, but also her neck and shoulders; she responds in kind. I torture your body for 15 minutes and in the end, with the last of my strength, I fuck her and cum inside her).
Your roughness and savagery mirror my own desire to be free from the constraints of who I thought I had to be. As you bite into my flesh, I moan your name, arching my back in an attempt to get closer to you. Your hands roam freely over my body, leaving a trail of pain and pleasure that only seems to heighten our need for one another.
As we reach the peak together, your release inside me feels like freedom itself: a release from past obligations, fears, and expectations. Our breath comes ragged as our bodies quiver with aftershocks, and for this fleeting moment, it's as if we can truly be ourselves.
The air in the room is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, blood and tears. I lie there panting, looking up at you, my eyes searching yours for some sign of what comes next. For now, though,