Pleasure Slave

By Capitalist
peacewish@hotmail.com

And yes, at last we get to some actual hentai.  This is a chapter for yuri fans.


Chapter 3
‘first kiss’

The everpresent bumping and jostling was gone, when she drifted back into consciousness, the hard wagon floor just a nightmarish memory.  A soft and cozy blanket lay puddled under her skin and she stirred slightly, nestling into its comforting texture.  It was over, thank goodness; such a horrible, realistic dream it had been.  
“She’s waking up,” an unfamiliar voice announced, surprising Sakura into opening her eyes.  It was not her home that she saw upon doing so, but a strange room without furniture or windows.  Blankets and thick cushions carpeted most of the floor, a handful of girls sitting cross-legged on them and looking at her expectantly.  
All of them were incredibly beautiful, though she only noticed that in afterthought, especially the one sitting closest to her.  Crimson hair fell like waves of fire past her shoulders as she cocked her head to get a better look.  
“About time,” she drawled, smirking in a way that triggered twinges of fear in Sakura, though she did not know why.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was so raw and parched only a hoarse rasp sounded.  She swallowed and tried again.
“Who are you?  What is this place?”
“My name’s Melara, cuteness.  And you’re in the holding pen of Silken Flowers, most high-class slave traders in the city.”
“Slave?” Sakura squeaked, and all the panic from her supposed nightmare surged into her blood again.  Her heart thudded in fear and she tried to sit up, only to discover that her arms were unable to move.  Something was pinching at her wrists, now that she noticed it; they’d been pinioned behind her back.  This unpleasant surprise was followed by a worse one when she looked down and saw her own naked body, stripped bare of every last scrap of her clothing.  
Horror and shame scalded her face and she drew her knees up to her chest in automatic reflex.  
“Hang on, cuteness, there’s no need to be modest.  You’ve been here a few hours, and believe me we’ve seen everything.”  Melara and the other girls giggled, apparently finding it funnier than ever when Sakura flinched at her casual touch.  
“Please,” Sakura tried in a small voice, “may I have my clothing back?”
“Those rags?” one of the other girls laughed.  “Oh, they were tossed in the fire the moment you got here.  Slaves from Flowers wouldn’t be caught dead in such common things.”  She fingered the lapel of her flowered satin robe, identical except in color to all the other girls’ apparel.  Sakura shook her head frantically.
“No, please, this is a mistake.  I’m not a slave!”
“Really?” Melara asked lazily, and reached to tug lightly on something around Sakura’s neck.  “Then what’s that?”
They were all wearing something like a choker around their throats, now that she looked, though it was closer to a collar.  Panic bubbled up again and Sakura whimpered, the room and all their faces going blurry for a moment with unshed tears.  She didn’t want to be in this horrible place, with all these strangers looking at her and touching her and calling her slave.  She just wanted to go home.
“Uh-oh, she’s crying,” someone pointed out.
“She’s not ready at all, is she?”
“Don’t worry, cuteness, we’ll make you feel better.”  Hands wrapped around her ankles and tugged on her legs, and Sakura shrieked in terror.  Unsuccessfully she tried to wriggle away, but her bonds made rapid motion almost impossible.  Eager hands pried her folded legs away from her chest and spread them, and someone behind her gripped a shoulder to prevent her from rolling over.  Melara knelt between her open legs and looked hungrily over Sakura’s sprawling nakedness, almost licking her lips in glee.  She brushed her palms along the inside of Sakura’s thighs and the helpless girl jumped, sheer terror paralyzing her vocal chords.  She couldn’t even beg.
“No need to be scared, honestly, it doesn’t hurt at all.  We’ve all had our turn, now it’s yours.”  
Rigid with fear, Sakura felt her fingertips glide toward the opening between her legs and she squeezed her eyes shut.  
“What’s going on here?”  
Cool and authoritative, the new voice stopped the fingertips in their tracks and Sakura could feel the others’ grips on her loosen.  She opened her eyes to see yet another beautiful girl had arrived, and was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.  She wore no robe like the others, but a pale lavender dress made from a gauzy material that swished around her legs when she took a step forward.  Sakura had never seen such an elegant creation in all her life, and wondered who this black-haired girl was that wore it so carelessly.  Violet eyes ignored her but fixed on Melara, who pursed her lips in a pout.
“Just having a little fun with the new girl, Tomoyo, that’s all.  You were out and she so obviously needs the training.”
“That may be so, Melara, but I don’t recall asking you to take on my job.  You’re a slave for sale just like her, don’t think yourself any different.”  The girl called Tomoyo did not bother to look at Melara’s indignant reaction to those words, but knelt at Sakura’s side and reached to touch.  Again Sakura flinched back, trembling.
“Shh, it’s okay.  I’m not here to hurt you.”  She smiled at Sakura, but it was not the leering, predatory smiles of the other girls.  Her eyes were genuinely kind, and Sakura relaxed enough to let her grasp her upper arm and waist.  With the extra support she was able to stand, and gratefully put several steps between herself and the other girls when Tomoyo guided her away.  
“Don’t keep her long,” Melara called out, and another chorus of giggles was the last thing Sakura heard before Tomoyo shut the door.  She turned a key in the lock and then draped its cord around her neck, shaking her head at the same time.  
“Bullies.  And if I’ve told the groomers once I’ve told them a thousand times, they are supposed to bring new arrivals directly to my room.  Especially white-collars!  I’m so sorry that I was out shopping, or I would have found you sooner.”  
As she spoke she herded Sakura down a passageway, keeping one hand on Sakura’s arm to help her keep her balance.  She hit a fast pace, one that Sakura was forced to match with small rapid steps.  The bare floor here was polished hardwood, so smooth and oily under her feet it felt almost warm to the touch.  She had the time to glimpse only that and the creamy painted walls before Tomoyo opened another door and ushered her inside.
This room was far smaller than the first, but immediately appealing in its comfort.  A large bed in the corner took most of the space, dressed in blue satins the color of afternoon sky.  
“Let me just find something…”  Tomoyo rustled through the objects on an elegant dresser, paying no attention to the crystal bottles and glittering jewelry, until she’d unearthed a pair of thin cosmetic scissors.  “This should do it.  Just hold still now.”
Numbly Sakura allowed her to turn her around, and she heard the thin rasp of blades sawing through rope fibers.  
“I have asked them not to tie them so tightly, it leaves burns on the skin and brings down the price.  It’s such a shame for someone with skin like yours.  But I’m sure there won’t be any permanent scarring.”  
The last of the thin rope snapped and Sakura’s hands fell free, an immediate relief to her aching shoulders.  Tomoyo clawed away the last of the shredded rope around each wrist and stepped back, satisfied.
“There, that’s much better.  Are you thirsty, can I get you some water?”  
Sakura was thirsty, but standing there in the middle of the room with a complete stranger she could only think about her naked body.  In her home village many women in a family might bathe together, to save water, but she had grown up with two men who made sure to be on the opposite side of the house whenever she cleaned herself.  In the past few minutes more people had seen her unclothed than in her entire life, and the humiliation was too much to bear.
“Can I have my clothes, please?” she whispered, desperately polite.  “Or, if they’re gone, just anything that I can borrow for a short while…”
Tomoyo smiled sympathetically, but she was already shaking her head.  “I am sorry, but whatever you were brought here in is surely long gone.  Our slaves just wear a robe to the auction; any clothing you have after that is what your master provides for you.  I’ll get you a robe shortly.”
There it was, that word again that everyone seemed so comfortable using for her.  Sakura shook her head, biting her lip to keep from crying.
“I am not a slave.”
Tomoyo looked surprised.  “Pardon?”
“I’m not.  I live with my brother in our family’s home, up in the mountains in a village called Eagle’s Path.  Men, they found me hunting mushrooms and took me away, they tied me up.”  She couldn’t stop them, hot tears were spilling down her cheeks as she spoke.  “My brother, he’ll be so worried about me – I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone.  Please let me go home.  I just want to go… home…”  She hugged her arms to her body and tried to choke back the threatening sobs.  Tomoyo’s expression was properly appalled, but there was an unyielding look in her eyes that made Sakura’s stomach turn with dread.
“That’s terrible.  What an awful thing to happen.  But my owner bought you, and that means you now belong to him.  It isn’t within my power to let you go, or even let you out of this building.  I’m afraid that you can’t go home.”
Her soft words crushed the last of her resistance, and Sakura burst into sobs.  Her knees crumpled beneath her, and she was only vaguely aware of Tomoyo catching her before she collapsed, murmuring platitudes and depositing her gently onto the edge of the bed.  Painful sobs ripped from her body until she was shaking with the force of them, every gulp of air like a hot knife to her chest.  All the fear and helplessness seemed to crash over her in a wave, and she kept crying and crying until she’d cried herself to sleep.  

--

Something in Sakura felt drained when she next opened her eyes.  She knew this time it was no mere nightmare, but she was too spent to cry anymore.  Instead she listened to the melody of Tomoyo’s voice, singing softly but sweetly from somewhere out of sight beyond an ajar door.  The idea of escape did brush her mind, but the moment she moved she felt the soft satin brush against her bare skin and subsided.  She was in no condition to try and run, even if she was somehow able to escape this building she wouldn’t know where to go.  For the moment, she didn’t want to do anything except lie here and feel the sheets.  She’d never seen, let alone felt, such luxury and wondered how many other rich things Tomoyo kept here.  It was like a bedroom for a princess.  
She adjusted her position slightly and realized that she was no longer directly exposed to the open air of the room.  A soft shawl had been draped over her crumpled body as she slept, of an even finer material than the bedsheets.  It was obviously sewn for elegance and not warmth, but the room was not cold.  As a gesture it was pure kindness, and Sakura fondled one fringed end in gratitude.  
Tomoyo breezed through the doorway, and her song trailed off when she met Sakura’s gaze.  “Oh, you’re awake.  Good, I was afraid this cup of tea would get cold.”  She crossed the room and picked up a porcelain cup printed with blooming pink flowers.  Holding the shawl to her chest, Sakura sat up and accepted the proffered cup, which was no longer steaming but still warm to the touch.  “It’s a blend of peppermint and chamomile, it should help you feel better.”
Going home would help me feel better, Sakura thought, but she took a sip without saying anything.  It did taste good, and the warm liquid soothed her aching throat.  Tomoyo dropped into the chair by her dresser, watching with concerned eyes.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m okay,” Sakura managed to whisper.  “Thank you for…”  She trailed off, not sure what she meant to say.  The tea, the shawl, the privacy, the offer of a kind and friendly smile?  Tomoyo seemed to understand, however, and nodded.  
“It’s nothing.  You obviously needed the chance to rest, and there’s plenty of time for training still.”  She picked up a hairbrush and ran it through her long ebony tresses, missing Sakura’s blanche.  She didn’t know what ‘training’ was, but she was fairly certain it was a topic she wanted to avoid. 
“You have a beautiful voice,” she tried, hoping to steer the conversation to something more innocuous.
“Thank you.  I did always want to be a singer when I was younger, but…”  She shrugged, still playing with her hair with one eye on her reflection in the dresser’s mirror.  “Sometimes things just work out differently.  I still practice whenever I can, but it seems my audience is limited to girls like you.”  She smiled in a resigned sort of way, and leaned forward to take the cup from Sakura’s hand when she drained it.  
“All finished?  Come here and I’ll brush your hair.”  
Though her expression was nothing but friendly, there was something about the offer that made it more command than invitation.  Obediently Sakura stood and took Tomoyo’s vacated seat, still clutching the pastel shawl to her body in a determined attempt at modesty.  Tomoyo set to work brushing the tangles out of her light brown hair.
“My goodness, your hair is awfully short.  Do all girls in the country wear it like that?”  Disappointed, Tomoyo fingered the ends that just brushed over her shoulders.
“Er, not many.  But some do, if it’s more convenient.  Washing isn’t always easy, especially in the winter.  I have to melt snow over a fire then.”  
It had never occurred to her before to think that was unusual, but Tomoyo looked scandalized.  “What a difficult way to live.  When you learn what a proper bath is, you’ll understand just what you’ve been missing.”  Sakura blushed, but Tomoyo didn’t appear to notice.  “Anyway, it seems to suit you well.  I’ll wash it with rosemary to bring out the shine, and trim it later so it will flatter your face.”
Sakura wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.  Maki, the village seamstress, sometimes branched out and applied her scissors to the women’s hair when they decided they needed it cut.  Since she always wore her hair pulled back and away from her face, the shape of the cut had never particularly mattered.  Obviously to Tomoyo it did.
For the first time Sakura really looked at her reflection and saw the foreign object around her neck.  So this was what Melara had been referring to earlier, and with a cold lump of dread forming in her stomach Sakura reached to touch.  It was leather, but not stiff enough to be painful, and had been buckled with a clasp loosely enough so that it rested just above her collarbone.  
“What’s this?”
“That’s your slave collar,” Tomoyo answered delicately.  “All slaves wear one, to show what they are.”
Sakura trembled, but this time she didn’t lose control.  “But the other girls wore black ones.  Why is mine white?”
“Color is a means to advertise experience.  Yours is white because you’re a virgin; it will turn black on its own.”  She tapped her own throat, and the silver choker that sparkled there.  It hadn’t occurred to Sakura that it wasn’t jewelry.  “I wear this because I’m a trainer.  I help the virgins that come here understand what’s expected of them, before they’re auctioned off.  It’s called training.”
A strange feeling, like nausea, curdled within Sakura and she shivered.
“And, what’s a virgin?”
Abruptly the hairbrush halted mid-stroke, and Sakura raised her eyes to see Tomoyo’s shocked expression in the mirror.  Somehow it made her feel even more self-conscious, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.  Very carefully Tomoyo set the hairbrush on the dresser and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, so she could face Sakura directly.
“Exactly how old are you?”
“I’m fifteen.”
Why was Tomoyo looking at her like that?  Nervously she plucked at the shawl’s fringe.
“Do you know what sex is?”
“Um, I think so.”  Sakura nodded bashfully, acutely aware of the fresh rush of blood to her cheeks.  “It’s something that… a man and a woman do, when they’re married.  Right?”  She looked for confirmation, but Tomoyo was still wearing that incredulous look.  “My brother, he was always so careful not to let me hear anything he didn’t think was appropriate – he wouldn’t even let me talk to boys.  I’m sorry -”
“No,” Tomoyo said quickly, “no, don’t apologize.  It’s not something to be ashamed of.  I was just – surprised, that’s all.  Most girls that come here have been bred for this purpose, like Melara back there.  They’ve spent most of their lives preparing for this role.”
“Oh.”  Sakura sat up straight with a flash of hope.  “Then, I’d make a very bad slave, wouldn’t I?  Shouldn’t I just go home?”
Tomoyo shook her head regretfully, smiling wanly.  “I’m sorry, but that’s not going to matter to Jereth.  The man who bought you,” she elaborated upon seeing Sakura’s puzzled look.  “He expects to make a profit off your sale, after all.  It just means I have to do a good job of training you.”  
She patted Sakura’s knee, and Sakura cringed.  “I don’t think… I mean, I don’t want -”
“Shh,” Tomoyo soothed.  “It’s nothing to be scared of, I promise.  I hold this position because I’m very good at what I do.  You don’t think I’d hurt you, do you?”  After a moment’s hesitation, Sakura shook her head.  “Good.  Now stand up.”  
She pulled gently on Sakura’s hand, and reluctantly Sakura followed the other girl’s direction to stand and face her directly.  Still smiling her gentle smile, Tomoyo rubbed her palms lightly over Sakura’s upper arms.
“What’s your name?”
“Sakura.” 
“Sakura…” she repeated, lilt in her voice.  “That’s beautiful.  It’s a tree that flowers up in the mountains, right?”  
The pride and beauty of her village.  Sakura nodded silently, too busy focusing on Tomoyo’s light touches to cry for her home just now.  Her hands slid gracefully to the hem of her own shawl, where Sakura still clasped it to her chest, and she slid her fingers underneath it.
Sakura squeaked and tried to step back, but Tomoyo only took a corresponding step forward.  This time she tugged a little harder at the fabric, and Sakura held on fast.
“Sakura,” Tomoyo said sweetly, but her tone was a warning one.  “Please don’t be a bad girl about this.  If I can’t do my job, I’ll have to tell Jereth.  And he’ll tie you down so I can, and I don’t want that to happen to you.  I promise this will not be painful.”
There was a look in her eyes that convinced Sakura she meant it, and she relaxed her grip on the precious material.  The soft silken cloth slipped off her skin at Tomoyo’s next pull, and the expensive shawl dropped in a puddle to the floor.  Extremely conscious of every inch of her bare skin, Sakura averted her gaze and twisted her hands nervously, unsure what to do with them.  She didn’t realize Tomoyo had stepped closer until one hand rested lightly over her breast, and she jumped.
“Shh,” Tomoyo murmured.  “It’s all right, just hold still.  Let me touch you.”  Sakura couldn’t help it, she knew she was shivering under Tomoyo’s hand.  Surely Tomoyo could feel her rapidly beating heart.  “Take a deep breath,” Tomoyo advised, and Sakura did her best to comply.  The fresh oxygen did help a little, but then Tomoyo’s hand trailed across her chest, just brushing above her breasts, and she had to remind herself to breathe again.  The hand traced a path across her chest and over her arm, and she realized Tomoyo was walking a slow circle around her.
“Beautiful,” she sighed in appraisal.  “You have a lovely body, Sakura, and such soft and creamy skin.  Breasts and hips are a little small, but that’s all right.  They’re well proportioned.”  She completed the circuit and must have seen Sakura’s flaming cheeks, for she chuckled.  “Has no one ever told you how pretty you are?”
“Not really,” Sakura mumbled.  Her brother often told her she looked like a monster, and that was the most anyone commented on her appearance.  
“Well, get ready to hear it a lot.  I can see see why Jereth purchased you, and he’s very selective.  Silken Flowers only deals in the most beautiful girls.”  Tomoyo’s hand cupped her jaw and lifted her face to make eye contact.  
“Sakura, do you know what a kiss is?”  Her expression was uncertain, as if she actually feared Sakura might not know, and Sakura flushed.  
“Of course I know.  Only, I’ve never been kissed.”
“Well that’s all right.  I’m going to kiss you now.  Are you ready?”
She wasn’t, but Tomoyo probably didn’t intend for her to answer.  Still holding her face still, Tomoyo drew close and leaned in, the whisper of her warm breath tickling Sakura’s lips.  It all happened so slowly but too fast to resist, and before Sakura knew it Tomoyo’s lips were pressed to hers.  
That was all, a simple touch with a hint of moisture when Tomoyo opened her lips.  Then she withdrew, looking rather pleased and expectant.  
“Did you like that?”
Shaken, Sakura could only nod.  
“How did it feel?”
“It was… warm.”  It was the best she could define it, though the tendrils creeping through her body weren’t the same cozy sensation of cuddling by a fire.  The tendrils wound through her blood, heating up her bare skin, and coiling between her legs in a place best not thought about.  
“Good.  I’m going to kiss you again now, and this time I’m going to put my tongue in your mouth.  Don’t look at me like that, it feels very nice.  You’ll see.  Are you ready?”  Tomoyo’s hand had dropped sometime after the kiss, though she didn’t realize that until Tomoyo placed both hands on her hips, holding her firmly in place.  It felt strange, and even more so when Tomoyo closed all distance between them, her own curves rubbing against Sakura’s behind the veil of thin fabric.  Sakura wished for a moment that Tomoyo wasn’t wearing the dress, and the shock of having such a thought was enough to distract her from the coming kiss.  
Her lips caressed Sakura’s, catching her off guard, her tongue gliding through the opening as promised.  It was an alien sensation and she squirmed slightly, though not hard enough to break free of Tomoyo’s grasp.  The friction of rubbing against her hips redoubled the warmth now, and Sakura was vaguely aware of a throbbing sensation, a steady rhythm between her legs.  Tomoyo pressed in further, tongue sliding along hers, exploring without hurry.
It seemed to last such a long time, provoking a flurry of strange feelings within her, but when Tomoyo withdrew from her mouth the feelings didn’t go away.  Her lungs protested and she gulped air like a winded runner.
“Try breathing through your nose next time,” Tomoyo offered, nose crinkling slightly in amusement.  She eyed Sakura’s flushed skin and panting breaths with an observant air and nodded to herself.  “You’re doing very well.  Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” Sakura whispered, for some reason slightly ashamed that it was so.  But she had been brought up not to lie and it didn’t occur to her to even try.  
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Tomoyo assured her.  “It feels good for me too.  Would you like to try something else that feels good?”
Sakura managed the tiniest of nods, blushing furiously at her own assent.  But it seemed Tomoyo had expected it and raised a hand, tracing a fingertip lightly over the flesh of her left breast.  Her breath caught in Sakura’s throat, but Tomoyo had not even begun yet.  Ever so softly, her fingers brushed over the pink nipple, and the result was an instant shock.  Sakura twitched involuntarily, but it wasn’t totally unpleasant.  Tomoyo repeated the motion and Sakura felt it again, even more strongly, unable to help the tiny whimper deep in her throat.  Hands clenching into fists at her sides, she closed her eyes and threw her head back, unconsciously arching her back into Tomoyo’s caresses.  The fingertips swept to and fro a few more times over the skin, then gave a tiny squeeze.  It didn’t hurt but Sakura whimpered again and fought for another breath.  
All her efforts to contain herself scattered when a warm moistness swept over her nipple, and she moaned out loud.  Tomoyo murmured some kind of agreement and licked again, before she closed her lips over Sakura’s nipple and gently sucked.  Waves of pleasure coursed from that spot to the throbbing between her legs and Sakura moaned again.  But when Tomoyo increased the suction she wriggled in protest, blindly seeking respite.  Tomoyo released her and took a step back, watching as Sakura gasped for air.
“I’m sorry,” she wheezed, though she had no cause to apologize.  “I just – I feel dizzy.”
Tomoyo nodded understandingly and gestured to the bed.  “Would you like to sit down?”
Sakura nodded shakily and almost collapsed onto the edge of the bed, hugging her arms tightly to her waist.  
“Do you dislike it?”
“No,” she said quickly, anxious not to hurt Tomoyo’s feelings.  “It’s… nice.  But it makes me feel strange inside.  And it’s so hot.”
“Where is it hot?”
Bright pink, Sakura pointed.  A quiet giggle made her cringe, but Tomoyo was immediately contrite.
“I’m sorry for laughing, Sakura.  But your innocence is so charming.  And all those feelings are normal, I promise.  You’ll get used to them after a while.”
Tomoyo gathered up the hem of her dress, and without warning, pulled it up over her head and off her body.  Her underclothing consisted of nothing but her small silken panties, and the trim slippers she wore laced up the knees.  Sakura was so shocked at the rapid disrobing that she could only stare as Tomoyo draped her dress over the back of the dresser chair.  Then she became aware of herself and quickly tore her gaze away.  Though she’d essentially forgotten her own exposed body, it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone else might want to undress in front of another.  She had never seen a naked woman before – in fact she’d never seen anyone naked before.  
“There’s no need to be shy, Sakura.  You can look.”  
Sakura did not turn her face, so Tomoyo sat down on the bed next to her and reached to cup her jaw when she tried to avert her eyes again.  
“Really, it’s all right.  Take another deep breath.”  Keeping her eyes steadfastly on Tomoyo’s face, Sakura obeyed.  “Would you like to try kissing again?”
“Okay,” she agreed, timidly.  Tomoyo closed the distance between their mouths and pressed her soft lips against Sakura’s, allowing Sakura to remember the feel of it before she parted the crease with her tongue again.  Prickles of excitement shot through Sakura’s blood and she opened her mouth even more, giving Tomoyo better access.  Tomoyo uttered a humming noise of pleasure and took advantage of this.
Her fingers ran through Sakura’s hair a few times, then dropped to her shoulder and traveled downward, roaming lightly over her skin and tickling her nipple.  Sakura squirmed at the touch and for some reason found herself pushing slightly forward, tentatively advancing her side of the kiss.  Tomoyo responded with warmth, increasing the pace, and her hand slipped from Sakura’s breast to her waist to pull her closer.  Flesh rubbed against flesh and Sakura could feel her heart beating faster, that pounding rhythm between her legs accelerating.  
And then Tomoyo’s fingers slipped right into the cleft of that secret place.  Sakura uttered a muffled squeal mid-kiss and scrambled back, a fresh charge of apprehension sweeping through her.  Infinitely patient, Tomoyo merely relaxed and sat back.
“Why did you do that?” Sakura quavered, backing up to the pile of cushions and drawing her knees up protectively.  
“Didn’t you like it?”
“No!  I- that’s not a place to be touched.”
“Don’t be silly, Sakura, of course it is.  You’ll be surprised at how good it feels.”  Tomoyo crawled over her bedcovers on her hands and knees and Sakura shrank away.  “It’s all been very nice so far, hasn’t it?  Nothing hurts, just like I said.”
That was true, and Sakura hesitated.  But she still flinched reflexively when Tomoyo slipped a hand between her knees to part them.
“Shh, it’ll be all right.  I promise.  Just relax.”  Again Tomoyo levered her knees apart, and a trembling Sakura let them stay that way.  Hands glided down her thighs and Sakura tensed, but Tomoyo skipped over that part of her body and brought them up along her ribs instead, over and past her breasts and then up her arms.  Firmly she took Sakura’s hands in hers and guided them to the bed’s thin carved curleques behind her head.  
“Hold on,” she advised.  “You’ll want to.”  
Sakura shivered, but she gripped the curved strut obediently.  The cushions piled under her left her back somewhat arched, breasts and stomach exposed to the world.  Tomoyo took her time on the way back down, roaming her flat open palms over her skin just light enough to feel without pressing.  It tickled and Sakura squirmed again, but she did not let go.  Inexorably Tomoyo moved down, past her waist and over her abdomen, and Sakura squeezed her eyes shut.  
For the second time Tomoyo’s finger slipped into the crevasse, and Sakura went rigid.  Her instinct was to snap her knees closed again but somehow she resisted, biting her lower lip in trepidation.  Her finger moved down and then up, parting the flesh, and Sakura was shocked into opening her eyes at the sudden flush of moisture.
“Wh-what is that?”
Tomoyo smiled in tender affection.  “That’s you, Sakura.  It comes from those hot feelings inside you.”  
“Me?”  Sakura stared, amazed, and Tomoyo nodded.  Her finger moved up and down again, spreading the wetness, and Sakura gasped at the bolt of pleasure.  Part of her was curious and wanted to watch, but part of her was embarrassed to do so and she closed her eyes again, throwing her head back when Tomoyo inserted another finger.  She was going much faster now, rubbing up and down the narrow slit, and every new pressure released another wave of heat inside her.  She arched her back still more, panting and whimpering.  
“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Tomoyo crooned, and Sakura could only nod rapidly, incapable of speech.  The pace increased and Sakura bucked, kicking out with her legs at nothing.  Patiently Tomoyo refolded them so her knees were pointing to the ceiling again, then returned to her task.  One finger delved deep within her pulsing body, and Sakura cried out.  It was not painful, exactly, but invasive.
“No -” she tried to protest.
“Yes,” Tomoyo corrected.  “Don’t worry, Sakura.  Trust me, you want this.”  She slid the finger in and out several times, each time provoking another gasping cry.  Her hips had begun to move back and forth under Tomoyo’s ministrations, unbelievable heat kept blooming inside her and demanding some kind of release that she didn’t know how to give.  It felt so good it hurt, and desperately Sakura tried to voice a plea that came out more like a moan.  
“I know.  Just hang on, a little more.”  
Tomoyo withdrew completely and moved to the very top of Sakura’s opening.  She braced herself, not knowing exactly why, and then Tomoyo started rubbing in small rapid strokes.  Raw ecstasy shot through Sakura and she moaned again, gripping the bed strut with white fists and writhing under the force of it.  It was too much, just too much and the energy inside her would surely explode, taking her with it.  No one could survive this.
“Please – I – want -”
“Just a little more…”
Each cry for mercy ripped from her throat, waxing in volume, and by some primeval instinct she brought her knees up toward her arms.  The slight change in posture triggered something inside her and the energy exploded.
She screamed.
And then she collapsed, panting and shuddering, against the pillows.  Her hands actually hurt to move, they’d been gripping with such force, and cautiously she flexed and bent her fingers.  She felt limp, as if she could never move again in her life, and utterly drained.  
Gentle fingers stroked hair away from her damp face.  “How do you feel?  Are you all right?”
Sakura wasn’t so sure the answer was yes, but she managed a shaky nod.  
“That’s good.  I’ll be back in a second.”  
The mattress rustled underneath her but Sakura didn’t raise her head to look.  A few moments passed in silence, save her own ragged breathing, and then Tomoyo returned with a dampened hand towel.
“This will help bring your temperature down,” she promised, and patted it over Sakura’s face.  The cool moisture felt wonderful, and Sakura mumbled a thank-you.  The towel wiped tenderly at her neck and then over her body, and unexpectedly Sakura shuddered with a feeling reminiscient of her explosive experience.
“Oh -”
“Shh, don’t worry about it.  It’s just an aftershock, it’s normal.  Your body needs a little time to come back down to earth.”  She took special care to wipe the place between Sakura’s legs, removing the stickiness.  Sakura’s eyes followed the movement and she squeaked in dismay when she saw the stains under her body.
“Oh no!  Your beautiful sheets – I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to -”
“Sakura,” Tomoyo interrupted firmly, “don’t worry about it.  It’s okay, it happens all the time.  They can be washed.”  She patted her own brow with a fresh corner of the towel, but she seemed to Sakura the same calm and cool girl that brushed her hair and offered her tea.  Tomoyo must be very used to doing this.  “Are you tired?”
Sakura nodded.
“I thought so.  It’s quite a lot for someone like you, that’s good enough for one day.  We’ll practice more tomorrow.  Now, would you like to sleep here with me, or back in the pen with the other girls?”
“With you, please,” Sakura answered quickly, and Tomoyo laughed.
“I thought so.  Just a moment.”  She tugged at the thin sheets underneath them, an exhausted Sakura trying to hold herself up, until she pulled the top one free and drew it back over Sakura’s bare body.  It felt wonderful to be really covered at last, and Sakura snuggled into the luxuriant material.  She hadn’t noticed how the room was lit, earlier, but now she watched Tomoyo pull a silken rope dangling from the ceiling.  The sourceless light immediately dimmed, and continued to fade as Tomoyo crawled into bed beside her.
“Is that a mage-light?” Sakura whispered, slightly awed.  She’d read about them, but never thought she’d actually see one used.  Such things were only for the very rich.  
“Oh yes.  Most of the building is lit by them; we can’t exactly have windows, after all.  Our slaves are rather tempting to onlookers.”
The darkness had become so absolute she could not see Sakura, who stiffened at the unwelcome reminder.  Slave, they considered her to be a slave.  Kidnapped or not, it didn’t matter, and now some faceless stranger owned her.  What was to become of her?  How would she get home?
A few tears dripped down her face and onto the pillow, but she was too tired to really cry.  Next to her, Tomoyo nestled closer and curled an arm around her waist, holding her close.  She didn’t know if Tomoyo sensed her distress or always did this for the girls that shared her bed, but it was a comforting gesture regardless.  At least here, for now, she was all right.
Sakura closed her eyes, and slept.  

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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters