Feature Writer: Galatea / [email protected]
Feature Title: A Mirror Darkly
Published: 19.09.2005
Story Codes: Lesbian, Asian.
A Mirror Darkly
Bangkok is an amazing place. Not only is it an old culture — which I’m always pleased with — but the intrusion of the modern world into its culture and society has produced both incredible wonder and horrific madness in equal parts. The dichotomy between poor and rich is violently obvious, and one can see incredible squalor and expensive decor along the same narrow street.
My sister and I were traveling with our parents, who had business dealings in Bangkok that were not precisely legal. While my sister was oblivious to the true nature of our family business, I was not; Chisato was more naive than I. Our parents had broken every cultural taboo their individual societies possessed, so it followed that their twin daughters would follow the same path. I was not aware of how far down that path my sister would go, however, and this time it was I who followed her lead instead of the other way around.
Mother came from Japan, a woman of high station. She was a small and delicate beauty who was daughter of a man very highly placed among the Yakuza as well as the politics of Japan. Father was a tall, graceful diplomat from China, and their arranged marriage was almost ten years in the making. But when it was done, my father’s Tong (or Triad as they are now called) had blood ties to the Yakuza, and our mother’s family had a contact in China’s shadow world.
We are pretty; the best of mother’s genes and father’s genes combined to make us elegantly delicate. Chisato seemed to have gained all of the emotional content between us, while I was ‘freakishly intelligent’ according to my teachers when conversing out of (what they believed) was earshot of nosy students. I took most of my true schooling at home, though we still attended a public school. My sister is something of a socialite and very gregarious. I am more withdrawn, but since I know it, most psychologists that I have been sent to seem to be unconcerned by it. We are tall, slender, willowy things.
My sister is a more svelte girl than I am. I am still very lithe creature, while she is more of a feminine person; that could be because I practice martial arts and have better muscle tone, thus tending towards a more boyish figure. We will probably top out at about 5’8″ when we’re nineteen or twenty-one, but right now we’re only about 5’4″ at youthful sixteen. We have small, firm breasts and like many Orientals it is almost impossible to judge our age. Our skin is a soft golden tone and our eyes are a soft brown more akin to carnelian and dark agate than the deeper brown of our mother’s or the black of our father’s eyes.
I avoided making an issue of that since any sign of infidelity on either side will get all of us killed.
Dressing as Americans afforded us a good measure of protection from some of the less pleasant things that can happen to young women in Bangkok. American vengefulness is well recorded in history — consider Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I was armed as well, a knife and a tiny .25 caliber pistol that fit neatly in my hand and the pocket of my loose jeans. I had convinced one of our body guards to give it to me after I had proven I knew what to do with a pistol. The bodyguard was from mother’s side of the family, and very pragmatic; my father’s side of the family tended to ask questions of younger members when it concerns potentially illegal things.
Chisato was blessedly oblivious to potential danger of course, and she took to the streets of Bangkok with her usual charming smiles and gay abandon. As I said, she is naive and sweet tempered, always willing to overlook the unpleasant realities of life. I had to admit, she did find the most interesting places this way. Shrines, dancers, places to eat, bars, impromptu dances in narrow streets — all things she discovered for us to enjoy. I followed my sister because I worried for us, but eventually I began to enjoy the scenery and even started souvenir shopping.
I had selected a few small pieces of jade carving and bits of jewelry that were easily concealed to give out as gifts later. I was not demonstrative person, but small and beautiful things have an appeal that makes up for the extravagances my sister was so fond of. I glanced around for the bright dress my sister was currently wearing, and was confused for a moment when I located her. She was standing under an awning, watching something with a rapt expression that I’d come to both dread and anticipate.
Our relationship is odd even by the standards of other twins. Chisato is an earnest and sweet person who loves boys and girls with equal abandon. By loves, I mean anyone who is a close friend could find gentle affection in my sister’s arms — or her bed. The concept of fidelity never really enters my sister’s mind; nor does guilt or jealousy, which is fortunate. It usually falls to me to head off problems that can arise from a misunderstanding. I am my sister’s guardian. I would not necessarily call myself an angel. I am much more like one of the guardian devils of Buddhism; not evil because I am not good, but evil out of necessity. My sister’s concept of love leaves her vulnerable, and I make it very clear early on to all of my sister’s friends that we come as a pair and I will not tolerate anyone going out of their way to hurt my sister’s feelings or make her into something she isn’t.
The only one who has even been in my bed is my sister, and I have no plans to change that. Chisato is enough trouble for anyone all by herself. Seeing her happy is all that matters to me.
Chisato’s emotions are never well hidden as a general rule. The ones on her face as we stood on that narrow street in Bangkok would have sent quivers through any of her friends and more than one or two would have blushed to be the reason for that look. My stomach did a slow turn as I realized what she was looking at. I moved silently up behind her and tucked my hands into my pockets — mainly so I could hold onto my pistol.
It was most definitely an opium den. The awnings were large and dark, and candles and oil lamps provided most of the illumination. The smoky haze was acrid with the scent of poppy, and the clientele was lethargically watching what had caught my sister’s attention, which meant we had not caught theirs. Admittedly, even with as much of an intellectual as I was, what Chisato was watching was worth giving attention to.
A slender, cinnamon skinned woman was dancing in the open space in the center of the room. She was wearing a very loose top, and when she turned her small, conical breasts were easily visible to us through the large openings where there were no sleeves, nipples firm and large. Her skirt was loose and flowing, slit along one side, and she seemed more like a dervish or a Sufi dancer than Thai. The sheer material floated, and settled about her legs with loving slowness and we could see the dark V between her legs when she turned to us during the swift sinuous movements of her dance.
Her eyes caught ours and I was a bit taken aback by the smoldering desire in them. Her pupils were large and deep, and her brown eyes shimmered faintly as she moved. While she continued to dance, I could not help but feel that her dance now had a very specific audience in mind. I could feel the thudding pulse of my heartbeat in my throat and Chisato’s hand drifted to her own heart, nearly covering her soft breast.
“Isn’t she beautiful, Ku?” whispered my sister in soft Mandarin.
My name is Kujiatieh, which is Chinese. My sister’s name is Japanese, and we speak both languages in addition to English. I actually speak two others, and am learning a new one. Our native tongue is actually Mandarin Chinese, but our mother tongue was Japanese so we learned both quickly. English we learned in school. But there are some languages that are universal, and the beautiful woman was speaking in one Chisato spoke much better than I. Not that I didn’t understand it, it was just one I had a hard time speaking. Desire does not come easily to me. Chisato on the other hand.
The woman moved as though she were water or a reed in the wind. The sleeveless blouse and long skirt were too light and moved too easily at her gestures to be anything but designed for the flirtatious movements and body revealing dance she performed. Chisato made a soft, desperate sound when the woman kicked high, and threw her long black hair forward, caressing her own calf with a cloud of darkness while revealing a dark thatch of curls between her thighs and the softly pouting lips between them.
Moving close to my sister I pulled one hand from my pocket and gently slid it along her hip to draw her a little closer. She leaned into me and I felt the fine tremble in her body.
Her lips parted a little as I leaned close to whisper, “Yes, Chisato, she is beautiful.”
I looked back at the woman, who was now kneeling on the floor, knees parted wide and the slit of her filmy dress parted by her legs, revealing the places between them. Her eyes were fixed on us and one hand drifted up to her small, beautiful breasts while the other traced her belly and then between her legs, fingers spread wide to touch as much of her soft dusky skin as she could.
Chisato’s breaths came more quickly as the dancer began to move her hands over her body, playing with her breasts, tracing the lines of soft skin hidden by shadow and dark hair, and undulating slowly as though making love. We watched as she opened herself, displayed her treasures to the smokers and the drinkers, and to us. I let my hand drift down, cupping Chisato’s derriere as she watched and then tracing the line between her firm cheeks as the woman slipped a finger inside herself, slid it up to circle the swollen bud of her flowery sex.
My twin’s hand clutched at her chest, bunching the soft material of her bright blouse, and Chisato clenched her jaw, trying to keep quiet as the woman pleasured herself for us. The dark hair was flipped back and she made the first noise I heard from her, a soft gasp and she pushed her hips forward. Wetness came from between her legs and her hips thrust again and again, as she climaxed for my sister’s pleasure. Chisato’s eyes were huge and bright.
I slipped my finger into the hem of her dress, lightly touching the small V between her cheeks, where the silk of her panties was. I was still teasing her even as the woman collapsed forward, panting softly. I might not have strong desires, but I understood Chisato’s. I would much rather have her with me than have her find a stranger in this place.
Turning to embrace me tightly Chisato crushed my body to hers and pressed her breasts to mine, letting me feel her hard nipples through the soft silk. I knew she was not wearing a brassier. I was, but I was never as comfortable with my body as Chisato. Only her insistence I dress nicely if I had to dress made satin the material that pressed against my own hardening nubs.
“Take me somewhere Ku, right now!”
Her shaking, desperate request made me hesitate. She would only get worse as time went on, and we could not go to the hotel; Chisato was loud and our parents did not need to know how close we remained after the years of attempting to keep us from doing the very things we still did together.
My eyes sought out the person the dancer went to. Surprisingly it was another woman, who was sitting near the bar, smoking a hookah and nursing a large glass of something amber. Breathless, the dancer knelt next to her, where several other young women and men lounged, and laid her head on the woman’s lap so she could receive tender strokes from the matron. I took Chisato’s hand and gently pulled away from her.
“Stay very close and be very quiet,” I admonished her softly.
We moved into the den, slipping between the men who lounged within. There were quite an interesting variety of people, but thankfully we only received mild glances and curious dismissal.
I walked up to the Madame — I was sure she was one — and towed my shaken mirror image with me. The Madame looked up at me and turned her head to blow smoke away from me. I spoke in Cantonese — it made people more comfortable than Mandarin in this area.
“Madame, please could my sister and I have one of your rooms for a while? I will pay as if she was your own, but we have no need of others at this time.”
The Madame was an older Asian woman, maybe forty, maybe sixty. As I said, to guess at our ages was impossible. She nodded slowly, seeing the state my sister was in.
“Maybe you would like something to help her sleep?”
Soft laughter and murmurs slipped from her covey of pretty men and women. Chisato blushed; though she didn’t understand the conversation she understood the tone of the words.
“I have some very fine hashish, with poppy oil.”
She looked at me, calculating. Chisato pressed herself along my back, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly. She let me know with her fingernails that I needed to be faster.
“If it is from Hanyan I will be glad to have some, Madame. I will pay top dollar for it.”
Like all of the business men and women of the shadowy sides of our own family, she did not let any of her thoughts show on her face. She nodded and seemed pleased, and made me an offer. I only disagreed twice, knowing that if I said yes too quickly I could expect a robbery. But it was reasonable, and she was pleased with the sale and the fact she got to charge us extravagantly for the room.
The dancer let her still shining fingers trail along Chisato’s leg under the short skirt and Chisato’s nails nearly cut me as she suppressed a cry. I remained stoic as I was given a small paper wrapped block tied with twine, and smelled it. It was real hashish and strongly oiled. I would not use it of course. I planned give it to someone before we even left the city. But more importantly a small girl led us to a room in the back, where we heard noises of pleasure and pain and smelled things darker and more toxic than tobacco and marijuana coming from behind the closed doors.
The girl opened the door and let us into the small, dark room. There was an oil lamp that the girl lit. She was no more than eight and dressed only in a loose shift that was held up by only thin straps over her shoulders. I was checking the bed, and glanced up in time to see Chisato looking away from the girl with a deep blush. I glanced at the girl, not seeing what my sister had seen; or rather, I was not seeing how my sister had seen what I was looking at.
Reddish brown waves of silky hair came down to the girl’s neck, and she was a slender little beauty. Dirty, but her skin was the soft reddish brown that comes of mixing Caucasian and Thai. Her eyes were a startling blue, as she turned to me. I glanced lower and saw her tiny breasts were just forming, visible through the square cut of the blouse’s neck. I looked at her face and she smiled at us as she stood up straight, her eyes lighting on Chisato’s face. I did not understand. Apparently the little girl did and knew that Chisato did as well.
I am intelligent, as I said, but about certain things I was simply blind and deaf.
As the girl moved towards the door I followed to lock it. She moved with a grace that belied her youth and it was difficult not to see that she was elated. She looked up and back at me, and blushed deeply, her cheeks reddening as she turned away. Her hips rolled a little more as she almost pranced out of the room and I locked the door behind her. Even I was able to recognize someone so obviously flirting with me, and I turned to my twin, bemused.
Chisato had opened her blouse entirely, her bare breasts smooth and small, a little more than a handful each one. Her nipples were tight and firm, her eyes were glazed with the desire she had been suffering from since the dancer had pleasured herself for us. I did not undress for her; she preferred to do that for me. She slid the skirt from her waist and rolled back slightly on the bed to free it from her hips, both legs high. Her white silk and satin panties shone and I could see the wetness on them, just as she had intended. I felt my own heart beat faster and my lips parted involuntarily.
She rolled forward and her blouse fell open, and she watched me looking at her, wanting her. The skirt was left on the floor as she sat up and slowly pulled the blouse from her shoulders and let it slip down her arms. I was there before I knew it, kissing her, drinking her, tongues caressing, in a deep soul kiss. Sixteen is sweet, and only other youths understand how sweet it truly is. My hands grasped, moved over her small breasts, and cupped them, letting her nubs cross my palms. She moaned into the kiss and pressed against me, her arms still trapped in the soft silk blouse.
I was becoming warm deep inside; in the places only my sister could warm me. Chisato struggled free of the blouse and moved her hands up, under my black Lycra shirt. When she pushed my arms out of her way and stripped me of the tight material I sighed and went to my knees, raising my hands for her. Her hands slid back down my arms like water, fingertips leaving trails of sensitive skin behind. My heart was pounding as she pulled the straps of the black satin bra from my shoulders. She leaned forward and I made a shocked noise as she used her whole tongue to lick from the hollow of my throat to my chin.
Satin fell away as she undid the fastening in the front and she cast the lovely thing away, preferring the sight of me without adornment to make me more appealing. Her fingers worked at the buttons of my jeans, but not for long. My sister had more experience removing such obstacles than I did; my own fingers tightened about the elastic at each hip and I pulled up, once, sharply. She cried out, and squirmed, pressing her body into the suddenly taut satin and silk. I wrapped my thumbs in the bands and pulled them from her, rocking her back as she had done for herself before.
One I had stripped her bare I stood up, looking down at my beautiful reflection. She looked up at me, resting on her elbows and with her legs spread slightly. She was bare, clean of any evidence of womanhood. It had been expensive, but money, American money, can buy many things. Eternal childhood in seeming was one of them. The tightly closed cleft of our shared femininity was moist still and I shook a little looking down at it. Sensing my own need, she finished undressing me, discarding shoes, socks, jeans — though not before I had taken the gun out of my pocket — and then paused at my black satin panties.
Her fingers came up, moving between the space where my thighs were parted by my slender build, and she traced the hidden line of my sex. I shivered and kept still, letting her have her way. Desperation always turned to consideration for her, once she was safely behind closed doors. She pressed the warm silk that lined my pretty satin covering into my slit, making it wet, staining it as she had stained hers. She smiled and took the band in her teeth, used her lips and mouth to remove them, while her hands gripped my hips tightly.
I gasped softly. I am not a noisy creature; my sister will be loud, but moaned more than she screamed, usually. There were exceptions, but not many. When I was bare she moved back up and slid her long tongue along my sex, not entering, not parting, but simply tasting my skin. My hands moved to slide fingers through her short, silky hair. I gripped her head and pushed her back, covering her body with mine as I forced a warm, full kiss upon those parted lips that tasted of us.
She writhed under me, my thigh finding its way between her legs, letting her press her soft, moist petals along my thigh as she ground into me. I kissed her, teasing her tongue into my mouth so I could suckle firmly upon it, trace its warmth and heat with mine. Her hands slipped around my sides to grip my shoulder blades. I gasped into the kiss and broke it as I arched my back, her nails digging in even as I moved my hips to stroke my warm folds along her leg. Chisato rolled her hips in response, sliding her wetness along my thigh and moaning loudly. She needed more, and I couldn’t refuse.
Our lovemaking had become more intense, more fulfilling over the years as we learned about one an other’s likes and pleasures. We had been lovers since she wished to show me what playing doctor was all about, almost seven years ago. I moved down her body, placing kisses intimate and gentle along those places I knew she enjoyed it most. The hollow of her throat was one, as was the slight curve of her small breast, a delicate taste of each nipple. Her hand strayed through my hair and I paused. I moved and lay between her legs, one hand along her smooth back, the other lightly gripping her breast while I took the other into my mouth.
Chisato groaned loudly, and pressed my head to her small mound more firmly. I took as much of it as I could into my mouth, letting her feel the strong suction and tracing her nipple firmly with my tongue. Small breasts are wonderful for that, and I could let her feel my teeth lightly and she gasped, her nails digging into my back again. I drew my lips along her smooth flesh, pulled her nipple with my lips until it slipped from my kiss.
Her eyes were glazed and she was breathing quick and harsh. My twin was lost in that strange world between pleasure and desire, a place I could visit rarely and only in her arms. As I tasted and licked my way down her body she gripped the wool blanket tightly and lifted her legs, parting them for me as I approached her smooth, uncovered lips. My hands caressed her inner thighs, traced the full lips lightly.
“Ku.” She breathed warningly. No teasing today.
I slid my tongue into her nether lips with a sigh of pleasure and she cried out loudly, her hips rising quickly to press her body into my mouth. I covered her soft, lush orchid with my mouth, explored her deeply and fully with my tongue. She writhed harder and I was forced to wrap my arms about her legs and hold her still to continue my lovemaking. Quick breaths and long pauses began to emerge in Chisato’s pleasure and soon she was keening softly, prelude to a scream. So I moved up and closed my lips about her small, swollen bud, and kissed it as though I were kissing her lips, tongue tracing the sensitive pearl as I suckled upon it.
My twin’s screams were loud and constant, and she bucked under my attentions as I held her fast. I could feel her thrashing under me, but did not stop, would not stop. I liked her screaming, delicate, soft underneath me, vulnerable in a way. I forced her into another climactic scream even as her body recovered from the first.
When I finished I moved over her, and she curled into me, holding me and shaking violently. Her eyes were wild and her breaths short and uneven. Chisato would hyperventilate on occasion, and I stroked her hair, kissing her lightly, calming her. She felt warm and soft against me, and I treasured it. She had been unusually quick and violent, and I mentioned that softly to her.
“Did you enjoy the dancer so much?”
Chisato was blushing and her nipples firmed and pressed against my breasts.
“Her breasts,” she murmured, embarrassed.
I looked down at her and she hid her eyes from me, a sure sign of severe embarrassment. She mumbled something softly and I gently touched my nose to her ear, a silent urge to tell.
“They were so small and pointed. Like a little girl’s breasts.”
She squirmed but her hands moved against my chest, soft, light touches, as though she were afraid I’d be upset.
Nymphomania I understood. Chisato was a classic case of it; she needed affection, love, to be held, to have release, to give pleasure. Without it she became lost, and her desires could be sparked so easily she was dangerously inept at normal social interaction without someone to keep her focused. This new revelation of her fantasies was not so easily understood. I had a name for it, but it was a taboo name.
“Kinjite, Chisato-chan? Bakana.”
The look between the girl and my sister made sense now, and I was having trouble adjusting my conceptions of my sister around this thought.
“I am not an idiot,” she murmured softly as she looked up at me with dark carnelian eyes.
“It may be a forbidden subject, but I like to see them. They are small, delicate.they want love. They give love freely. They wouldn’t hurt; I would never hurt a girl.”
Her eyes were smoldering with desire and she moved against my, pushed me to the bed and straddled my waist. Her fingers moved over my breasts lightly and she teased my nipples into hardness.
“It makes me remember when you touched me, when I was afraid of the storm.”
It had been I, not my sister, who had initiated our first experiences with real love. Playing at doctor was a game. I couldn’t leave it alone, and learned more. My father had been startled, but understanding when I asked him difficult questions, and had given me books, shown me pictures.
“It reminds me of how mother showed us.”
I looked startled. Our mother had shown us, yes. She’d touched us, shown us what girls were like.
When Chisato had come to my bed when we were eleven to escape the storm, I had kissed her, loved her, and to be honest had seduced her. We had made love and the storm had not frightened her, and she had fallen asleep soon after. Chisato slid from me, taking up her dress and blouse and dressing quickly. She also took her wallet. I started to rise and she spoke quickly.
“Wait here, Ku.”
She was out of the room before I could even get off of the bed. I sat up, confused, wondering — and fearing — what she was doing. I started to dress, but slowly. I was trying to sort out the new feelings and concerns her proclamation of pedophilia had engendered in me. It explained the desire to be smooth and unhidden by the soft down we’d started to grow, and her tendency to choose friends younger than us. She’d made fast friends with the small daughter of one of our mother’s family friends, and it made me wonder what she had been doing when I had been practicing aikido with mother’s guardians.
The door opened and I had only managed to gather my clothing and start to slip on the Lycra shirt — uncaring for a bra, more concerned with Chisato’s well being. I paused and lowered my arms, looking at my sister and the young girl that she’d brought. I set the shirt on the floor sitting on the bed, self-consciously closing my legs as I started at the bright blue eyes of the eight-year-old girl.
The girl had been bathed and was wearing a fresh smock. Chisato knelt and slowly lifted the smock, the girl looking at her with open, trusting eyes. She had been bathed, and I had the sudden and sinking feeling that this had been planned better than I could have suspected. I licked lips gone dry as my twin looked at me, showing me the beautiful girl she’d rented.
Delicate and slender, she was only boyish as young girls often are at that age, breasts just budding, hips narrow, and long limbed and frail seeming. She looked vulnerable naked, the small cut of her sex plain and her bold lack of concern for her nudity strangely appealing. I hesitated, looking at Ku, and then the pretty red-haired girl. Her dusky skin gleamed, as though she’d recently been oiled. Chisato’s hands slid up down her arms and the girl wriggled slightly, enjoying the touch. She lifted her hands and placed the delicate fingers over her own nipples, whispering to Chisato in embarrassed Cantonese. My sister smiled and stroked her soft reddish-brown hair, murmuring a response in Mandarin which seemed to soothe the girl, though I was sure they did not understand the languages they heard.
Once more it was the language they did share that allowed them to communicate, and left me wondering.
I moved to one side of the bed, afraid to speak, thrown off balance by the heat in my body and the rushing of my blood through my head.
Chisato lifted the girl and carried her to the bed, smiling and lightly nuzzling the child’s neck. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remember that here the rules and laws of Japan, China, and America were distant legend, hopelessly lost in hundreds of miles of distance and hours of time. The girl giggled but rather than pulling away extended her neck, baring the soft, sensitive skin more. Chisato sat her on the bed and kissed the offered flesh lightly, lovingly. Eyes the color of my own sought me, looked at me as the intimately kissed and teased the little child, who responded in a manner much less childlike than I wanted.
Golden hands slid down the little girl’s chest, caressing tiny nipples made hard by my sister’s attentions. When Chisato pulled back the girl watched as enraptured as I while Chisato unbuttoned her blouse once more, baring her fine golden skin and smooth, pretty breasts. My breath caught as the Thailand girl reached out, cupping her small hands over the sensitive mounds of my twin’s breasts. Chisato moaned softly and divested herself of her blouse while the girl gently fondled and stroked her breasts. The skirt too fell away and I could see wetness along my sister’s inner thighs.
What was more shocking was the answering wetness on my own. I had not considered such things, never been attracted to anyone but my sister. Yet I found myself wondering how it would feel, those soft, tiny hands, that immature and undoubtedly sensitive orchid, the tight and untouched ring of rosebud pink below that. I could see the line of sex and derriere the child possessed, a single unbroken line that my sister would be exploring, exposing for me to see.
The child lay back at my sister’s insistence, and I watched, breathing quickly, my arousal unexpected and total. Chisato parted the slim, long legs and exposed the tight and unblemished slit of the girl’s delicate sex. “Be gentle, mother, please!” the girl asked in high, wavering Cantonese. Chisato smiled, understanding the tone, and touched the girl’s tender mouth, which parted soft lips and accepted the delicate golden finger, suckling lightly. I saw the tender pink tongue slide along my sister’s fingertip and felt a surprising stab of jealousy.
What was surprising was not merely the jealousy, but the desire that it have been my finger, and not my twin’s. It was discomfiting, for a moment, before I discarded all the preconceptions, the ingrained rules of others. I had never paid attention to them before; I would not start now. I watched, letting my fingers touch my breasts, my thighs, but nothing more intimate. I would wait my turn.
Gently caressing the girls face and neck Chisato was lightly licking and kissing the small, nearly non-existent breasts, licking the tiny nipples and the circles of her areolas. Her hands slid to grasp the tiny waist and I watched, curious and aroused as my twin slowly licked down lower, gracing the girl with her long, warm tongue. The girl whispered how beautiful Chisato was and I agreed with her, the first time I’d spoken to the girl. She looked at me, and smiled at my speaking a language she understood, but was distracted by the slow kiss of heat along her tiny, delicate orchid when my sister tasted the tiny child’s warmth.
I shuddered to think of myself there, touching the delicate folds and tiny, perfect jewel between the small girl’s legs. I knew how it would look — I was seeing it now as my sister stroked and touched the shivering, arching body beneath her. Chisato looked up the line of that slender, perfect body and then to me. I watched, my breath catching again as she slowly pressed her tongue into the tiny girl’s folds, then her center, piercing her with that lovely, long, expert tongue. The girl writhed and cried out in wordless pleasure her body shaking as she actually climaxed under that delicious sensation I had experienced myself.
Sitting up when the girl’s shaking had ceased, Chisato gathered the girl into her arms and moved to me, sitting next to me. My mouth was wet, my petals nearly soaked with desire and my stomach turning with fearful anticipation. The girl looked at me sleepily, but the desire in her eyes was clear and bright. Chisato slowly set her on my lap, facing me. I was rigid with uncertainty, almost afraid. The girl reached up and touched my lips, which parted instinctively. I kissed a fingertip, a tiny, delicate finger, and closed my eyes as she kissed me.
I cannot explain it. It was absolutely forbidden, and exquisitely wonderful to press my lips against the tiny, soft, needful lips of the eight-year-old child who straddled my legs. I felt her arms go around my neck and I held her gently, kissing her carefully, afraid to harm her though I knew I would not. Chisato gently stroked my hair, moved to sit behind me. Her hand gently pulled one of my arms from the girl, and laid it along the smooth, not quite flat chest. I made a desperate noise and explored the girl’s warm, smooth body, feeling her nipples rise against my palm like tiny pebbles as we kissed. Her tongue slipped to my mouth and Chisato urged Hua to let me suck on her tongue, gesturing when words failed.
Accepting the small, warm wetness into my mouth I did so, suckling her sweetness, tasting her heat and stroking the softness with my own tongue. The girl wriggled upon my lap and my hand moved down, sliding behind her back, cupping her small, perfect derriere with one hand. I felt the line of her most sensitive places, and slowly began stroking them. Wetness soaked her, Chisato’s expertise having made her wet and ready for me to do as I wished. The girl wriggled and pressed against my breasts as we kissed and her moist petals and tiny anus pressed into my finger willingly, eagerly.
I broke the kiss and whispered softly in Cantonese to Hua.
“Can I touch you in here?”
I ran my fingertip along her delicate rosebud anus, sliding wetness along it. Chisato moved from behind me to crouch between our legs. I secretively offered her my finger and she suckled it lovingly, tasting the girl’s saltiness and her musk on my skin. The flush of heat that tore through my body at the thought was unexpected and Hua felt me shiver lightly.
Her soft blue eyes looked at me and she nodded with a delightful blush. Her legs and mine were spread, and Chisato licked my finger one more time, leaving it slick and wet. I slowly, carefully worked my fingertip against that tight little ring, and Hua moaned softly, her body at first tensing to reject the intrusion, and then relaxing. As she relaxed, I slipping my finger inside, not deeply, only the first joint, but it rested there and I lightly moved it, probing, teasing. Hua’s breaths were quick and she looked beautiful, eyes meeting mine, accepting I would do nothing to hurt her. She moved a little, and offered herself, pressing her body down.
Still gripping the child’s derriere lightly, I lay back, little Hua moving to rest over me on her hands and knees. I slowly slipped more and more of my finger into her, aided by Chisato’s soft tongue licking and probing at the edges of her velvet depths as well as along my finger to ease its entrance into this delicate little flower of a girl. My other hand reached under, and my finger lightly stroked her soft, delicate petals. It was wonderful, to feel her smooth skin, her tiny orchid accepting my finger gently. She moved against my hands, as I gently touched her inside, leaning down and suckling my breast lightly while holding the other one in one tiny hand.
I shuddered and then Chisato was there, between my legs, licking me, sliding her tongue from my trembling, burning flower to my own tight opening, penetrating each gently, stroking me with her loving tongue and petting my thighs with her hands. The delicate girl was trembling over me and then began to cry out, sharp, desperate cries of …
“Ai! Ai! Ai!”
I felt her tiny sex, her virgin anus tightening, squeezing my fingers and I too felt the rush of deep pleasure, Chisato and this lovely child bringing me to my peak. Pleasure burned through me, ignited my mind and body with white fire.
We moved to the bed after long, warm moments, Chisato petting us, languid after her own bliss which she’d achieved watching and aiding Hua and I in pleasure. She murmured to me in soft Japanese.
“I bought her from the Madame, Ku. I do not know what to do.”
I turned and looked at her beautiful face, suddenly alarmed but too tired to be angry.
“You own her now, Chisato-chan?”
A slow, ashamed nod was her only response. Hua kissed her and she smiled at the girl child nestled between us.
“She has no passport.”
Another brief nod, but she saw the look in my eyes, and hope bloomed in hers. The Madame had undoubtedly sold the girl to Chisato in hopes that because she had no passport she would be left behind when we left; someone would then collect her and she would once more be in the brothel, to be sold to those who wished her.
Cold fury consumed me and my mind raced. No one ever took advantage of my beautiful twin. Ever. I would fix this.
“When we leave, we will take her, buy her some pretty clothing. A swimsuit as well. Take her to the pool at the hotel. I will fix this with mother and father.”
Chisato smiled gratefully and kissed me, then kissed Hua, hugging the girl.
Hua asked me in soft Cantonese, “Are you my mother now also?”
I smiled and nodded slowly. She kissed me firmly and snuggled against me and I stroked her soft back lightly, my other hand entangled with Chisato’s.
“I’m glad,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
She began to cry and I slipped away, letting Chisato comfort her. I am not good at comforting others. But I can exact revenge.
So it was that while Chisato and Hua swam and played in the pool, I spoke with our mother and father, explaining everything. I was kneeling before them, my mother sitting on the bed, my father at the desk. My hands were in my lap. And I looked at the floor calmly.
“She and her sister have kept this and much else from us for almost seven years? Eight years?” father asked in a slightly amused tone of voice.
I did not dare look up though I was a little surprised he was not angry. We were speaking Mandarin.
“She will be good for the business, husband. I think, if they can continue as they have been, keeping our secrets as well as their own, there will be no problems.”
My heart leapt and I flushed, not simply from embarrassment but also at the thought of having Hua in our bed every night.
“It is no worse than your brother and my sister in our bed.”
At that I had to look up, controlling the shock I felt. Father’s brother.my uncle’s eyes were a softer, lighter brown than mothers. Mother had mentioned a twin sister long ago. it explained many things, impossible things. An executive who had supposedly slept with my mother, being found murdered when our entire family had been at dinner, with witnesses claiming my mother had been seen with him. Other, similar incidents. Our eyes now had their explanation as well.
“Train her well, Kujiatieh, for she will be expected to earn her place in our family. You mother will tell you what you need to know for your new sister. I will arrange passport, your mother will file the adoption papers at once.”
Father’s authoritarian commands induced me to prostrate myself, and I spoke my thanks in a nearly tearful voice. He rose up and caressed my head as he knelt next to me.
“You are truly my daughter, little Ku, and your sister as well. I love you both, and would not deny you this little thing. You have shown me you will one day take my place, and it is a good thing to know your sister and mother will be taken care of should I leave you.”
I sat up and kissed my father, deeply, showing him my appreciation. He accepted it, and kissed me as warmly. My heart was ready to burst in my chest. Mother came to me and kissed me as well. My body heated at her kiss, and I wondered what it would be like, to sleep in my mothers.both my mothers’ bed, with Chisato and our new sister.
THE END