The Price

I wrote this at the request of someone who died before it was finished. He wanted a story about something other than multiple futanari fucking each other blind for no particular reason. I created this world for him. The work is dedicated to the memory of Kaiser Reaper. [Please read the tags first.]

*****

The pain of war cannot exceed

The woe of aftermath.

-- Led Zepplin, The Battle of Evermore

It is said, if you plan revenge, dig two graves. It is also said, if you seek peace, prepare for war. Make sure you have the right number of graves and are prepared. Sometimes other things need to be buried or prepared for.

------

The top floor conference room in an anonymous building on an anonymous street near the Akihabara train station offered a view of Ueno to the north and the Imperial Palace to the south, with Tokyo spread out in a smear all around. The lone person in the room studied the distant grounds of the Ueno Zoo. It was rumored a new panda cub was imminent. The door opened to admit a man who had all the appearances of being the last one in the chain of command ordered to deliver the news, and who had no one beneath him to delegate.

The man entered the room carefully, working hard to show the deference due to his superior without revealing the abject fear gripping his gut. He stopped a few paces distant, bowed the appropriate amount, and waited.

The person who looked out the window didn't turn around, but the man knew he was noticed. The set of the shoulders in the elegant suit spoke volumes. He remained silent. Speak when spoken to, he reminded himself. I will be asked eventually.

"What news, Maita-kun? Has the urn arrived?" The person spoke in English, not from any desire to show off, but to keep prying ears from understanding.

The man recognized this was a formal exchange, one implying the subject was important to the person at the window. He answered in the same language.

"Yes, Shirokami-sama, However," the man paused, worried he was treading dangerous ground. "It is empty. So I am told. I did not look myself. I did not presume to have permission."

The person turned away from the window. The face was one of a classical portrait: aloof, superior, focused on something in the distance. It was also androgynous, impossible to tell from the features if the person was male or female. The face reminded Maita of the latest pop singer, a woman who wore men's clothing. She had a huge following.

"Empty." The word was both confirmation and question.

"Yes, Shirokami-sama. Our operatives secured the urn without difficulty and replaced it with the duplicate. Inspection of the urn prior to delivering it, to make sure it contained the ashes of..." Maita decided not to mention the name; it wasn't necessary. "There was nothing inside. The urn has been delivered as requested, but our operatives determined the ashes were scattered at least four months earlier."

"Do they know where?"

"On the Pacific coast of America. Likely Oregon or Washington." Maita bowed his head. He was in new territory. He had never delivered news like this to his superior.

"Clever minxes," Shirokami said, mostly to herself.

The fact Reina Shirokami was a woman was a poorly kept secret within the Void Dragon-gumi. The rumor she was neither man nor woman, but something in between, was instant punishment to repeat to anyone or even say aloud. Tall--a hundred eighty-eight centimeters, but rail thin at sixty-one kilograms--her breasts were easily hidden with a band and an inventive tailor. Most were intimidated simply because they had to look up nearly twenty centimeters to speak to her. The rest had a different reason; Shirokami had no tolerance for incompetence and rarely allowed second chances.

"You mean the Dreadgrave sisters?" Maita was fairly certain this was a safe question. "Do you wish them neutralized, Shirokami-sama?"

"No, the family has seen enough sorrow. Have the urn placed on my desk. I will decide what to do with it later. Thank you Maita-kun."

The man bowed, assuming he was dismissed. Shirokami glanced at an elegant clock on the wall, the boon and bane of Western civilization, becoming the same for Japan.

"Where is Sato-san?" she asked. "We were to meet five minutes ago. He is uncharacteristically late."

Maita began to say he didn't know, but would find out, when one of the underlings--Kenji, Maita recalled--burst into the room, bowing rapidly.

"The police are here, Maita-san," he said breathlessly, not daring to speak to the number two of the Void Dragon-gumi. "Sato-Sama is dead. In his car. Early this morning. They are asking questions."

"Has anyone answered them?" the woman, who was now number one of the gumi, asked.

"No, Shirokami-sama. All profess ignorance of things."

"Good. Thank you, Kenji-kun. Show the police here." She turned to Maita as the younger man left. "See to the urn. Then return here. It seems we will have a complicated day. Oh," she said as the man bowed. "Have the plane made ready. Tell our people in Kyoto I will be visiting for a while. I feel a sudden need for mountain air and a visit to a temple."

------

Six months earlier.

"It wasn't as bad as I expected," Felaria Dreadgrave said to her sister as she brushed ashes from her black dress. The wind blew at their backs as they walked from the Pacific shore toward the line of black cars waiting to take them to Astoria from Cape Disappointment State Park.

"Yeah," Sara answered. "You did a good job considering the wind. We only got a little bit of Mom on us." The younger of the twins dabbed at an ash streak on her shoulder. "She was cantankerous to end. Even dead, she had to put her mark on us." The silly grin overlaid the grief both women felt. "Was it worth it?"

"Yes," Felaria answered. "We get closure and Mom gets to be in her favorite place. Well, most of her, anyway." She brushed away more ash. "It was a nice ceremony. Good turn-out."

"You think she'll come for the ashes?" It was understood who Sara meant.

"Absolutely. Not her personally. Reina wouldn't dare come close to us so soon. But she'll send people to get the urn, which is why we needed to scatter the ashes quickly, even on a windy day." Felaria gripped the urn tightly, reading the engraving for the hundredth time:

Marie Elizabeth Dreadgrave

Loving Mother

July 14, 1971 - October 31, 2017

A forty-something woman in an elegant black dress, escorted by a younger man, walked by them. The woman smiled; it was plastic, insincere. Three steps ahead she spoke to the man. Felaria doubted she intended her voice to carry.

"It was a nice ceremony. Too bad the younger one ruined it. Can you imagine anyone wearing a dress that short to a funeral? Shameful. The little slut."

The woman stopped to talk to a small knot of people.

Felaria looked at her sister. She had heard as well. Her face flushed. A single tear ran partway down her cheek before it was roughly brushed away. Felaria took Sara's hand, drawing her up the path. They stopped where the sand met the road to listen to other people giving their condolences. The older woman drew near to pass them. She smiled again.

Felaria moved her foot as if to shift her weight. The older woman stumbled over it, going to her knees on the pavement. Felaria helped her stand. She pointed to a large stone.

"They should clean those off the path. If you don't watch what you say, you can take a nasty fall."

"What?" the woman asked, beginning to feel the pain of two badly scraped knees. She craned her neck to look up at the tall young woman with faintly Japanese features.

"If you don't watch where you step. It's a crime the path is cluttered with good acoustics."

The two women locked eyes, the older woman's face showing the shock of realizing she'd been overheard. Felaria allowed herself a wicked smile of bared teeth; the other woman drew back, nearly stumbling again before the man took her elbow and led her to a car.

Sara put a protective arm around her sister; she was nearly the same height and build. "Thanks, Fel."

"Nobody throws shade on my sister."

"I was going to deck her."

"This was better. She can't complain without what she said coming out. She has to take the punishment and know we know she can't do anything about it."

Despite being younger--by six minutes--Sara was the one who believed in direct action, while Felaria took an indirect approach. They worked well together.

"We're going to do something, right?" Sara asked, meaning something besides the older woman.

"Without doubt. The bitch who killed our mother is going to wish she'd never been born."

"Uh, doesn't that mean we..."

"I'm being metaphorical, Sara. Concentrate on the con. It's what we do best. Reina is going to learn just how good we are."

------

Cherry blossoms are a blessing and a curse, Reina decided as she looked at the Ruikoin temple through the large sliding glass door. She'd missed the last day of seeing them in full bloom. Now, they littered the ground with fading white petals, sticking to shoes, windscreens, occasionally getting blown into a mouth. They were a mess when it rained. Fortunately, Ruikoin had no cherry trees; it was nestled in a maple forest on the upslope of Kyoto's northern mountains. In the fall, it was a riot of color. In the spring, it was an emerald sea, new growth everywhere--and not a stray, decaying blossom in sight.

On the top floor of an unassuming building across the Takano River from the temple--known as the employee dormitory for the upscale hotel on the other side of the train tracks--Reina scanned the temple, mountains, and horizon. The Void Dragon used the top floor of the dormitory to host important members of the gumi when they felt the need for a vacation. Lookouts and guards were positioned discreetly in and around the building. Those who lived there knew to stay away from anything close to the top floor.

It was serene, quiet, contemplative. Hiroji Sato preferred--had preferred, she reminded herself--more opulent surroundings within Tokyo. He told her once her preference for the more peaceful Kyoto made her seem weak; an iron fist was needed to stay atop the Void Dragon-gumi. Reina chose another way, the steel fist in a soft leather glove. She was no less driven or brutal than her former chief, but she went about making people do what she wanted differently. It was why she'd been able to arrange Sato's demise in a public way to give her a perfect alibi for the police, yet let everyone in the gumi know she achieved her revenge.

Reina settled herself on a tatami laid on a dais to look over the low wall of the balcony, her long silk kimono untied to allow her access to her small breasts, large cock, and damp pussy.

She had resisted the insistent urge to pleasure herself on the plane or in the car on the drive to the retreat, even though she'd had no release in two days. With Sato dispatched and her position in the Void Dragon secure--her two rivals were dying violent deaths even now--she had the luxury of giving in to her desires surrounded by new growth and bright spring air with a stunning view of the temple.

She should wait, she told herself, it would be only a short time. Everything was arranged, she would have someone to help her find release soon. It was selfish to...

One hand fondled an erect nipple, the other moved between pussy and cock, getting both coated in slick vaginal juice and pre-cum. She thought of her last partner, Midori, a woman with a talented but loose tongue. She had been sorry to terminate the woman's employment; there had been so much promise. Still, she mused, loyalty and discretion are important character traits--which Midori lacked.

A woman entered the room on nearly silent feet, slippers left at the door as she walked quickly across the lower tatami to bow at Reina's side.

"I am sorry, Shirokami-sama. I am late."

"No... Akira-kun," Reina sighed, remembering the woman's name at the last moment, "I am early. I could not resist the temptation. Have you been instructed?"

"Yes, Shirokami-sama. I studied the techniques and positions you favor with Natsuko-sama at the House of Eternal Bliss. I am honored to offer pleasure."

"And?" Reina arched an elegant eyebrow.

"Silence and discretion in all things. I learned it under the sensei before all else. She was most insistent. I believe I learned those lessons well."

"Good to hear, Akira-kun. Natsuko-san is an honored friend. It would be unfortunate to shame her. Show me what you have been taught."

Akira, with no outward sign of fear at the implied threat, untied her robe, revealing a toned body with full breasts and a dark forest around her pussy. Long black hair fell forward over her shoulders, hiding portions of her face. One sultry eye peeked through the strands as her mouth lowered ever so slowly toward Reina's erect and quivering cock. The eye never lost contact, making the older woman shiver in excitement and anticipation. The mouth kissed Reina's engorged glans at the same time as a gentle finger slid along the slick opening of her pussy, tantalizingly close to penetration but never quite entering. It was exquisite torture: a caress without taking the cock in her mouth; a teasing promise of a finger to enter and find the rough patch of skin that made Reina tremble each time it was touched. She forced herself to remain still, lay her hand gently on the younger woman's head, stroking the fine, soft hair. Before she could stop herself, she moaned a single word.

"Marie."

The courtesan didn't react to the slip, which raised her standing in Reina's mind. Instead, the tongue and finger continued their butterfly caresses, forcing Reina to lean back on her hands to avoid falling over. The cock thrust out from its nest of dark hair hiding most of what Akira was doing with her hand. The kimono fell around Reina's shoulders; she hoped she looked arousing.

The woman's touch was electric. Reina nearly came twice before Akira finally engulfed the erection, massaging it with expert throat muscles. The tentative finger was replaced with the second and third digits prising apart the soaking vaginal folds, working the fingers deep into the spasming cunt, finding the tender spot of interior flesh to stroke it in synchronization with the tongue laving the cock.

With the erection fully swallowed, Akira extended her index finger to stroke the taint, the special place between pussy and anus. Reina lost her concentration, forgot about how much time passed, to fall willingly into the bottomless well of carnal climax. She held out as long as she could, refusing to let Akira control her so thoroughly, yet wanting more, wanting the orgasm, which the woman expertly denied her until the index finger pushed against the taint at the same time as Akira's throat closed around Reina's cock.

She may have screamed, she didn't remember. Waves of pleasure rocked her, sending electric thrills along her body, flexing her muscles randomly, making fireworks explode inside her head. Reina looked down to see Akira holding her cock firmly in the deep throat, seeming not to breathe as gouts of cum flowed into her.

When the tremors stopped, Akira slowly pulled back until she could inhale through her nose, lips clamped on the still-engorged cock, her fingers continuing to stroke pussy and taint. Rivulets of cum leaked from her mouth, flowing down Reina's hard shaft to pool in her pubic hair, creamy white against ebon. The cock, released from a warm mouth, waved in the cool air. It wasn't soft, Reina didn't feel her usual post-climax lassitude. The hand on her crotch kept its steady rhythm in and against her sex.

Akira removed her hand after at least a minute of gentle massage. The cock refused to deflate. Reina was simultaneously aroused and worried. This had never happened before; she usually needed fifteen minutes to be hard again. The younger woman slid on top, their sweaty flesh pressing together where the kimonos opened. As Reina watched, fascinated, a warm cunt slid over her cock, a wet mouth poised over hers, a thin drool of cum escaping to coat the older woman's chin. Reina nearly came again when she realized Akira had a mouthful of semen ready to share. Marie had done the same. She opened her lips, letting the silky fluid mixed with saliva slither across her tongue to pool at the back of her throat.

The women began a slow fuck, both of them moving to excite the other. Their lips compressed; they passed cum from mouth to mouth until Akira pulled back, letting Reina swallow the salty, herbal load. They kept the motion going, slow then fast then slow as another orgasm built within, simmering for what seemed forever, never growing to the point where they couldn't retreat from climax and start building again.

Time slowed, stopped. Reina became lost in the constant motion of a wet pussy working her cock, hard nipples dueling on sweaty breasts, mouths locked to let tongues explore the backs of throats. When Reina approached her limit, Akira slowed the pace, letting them relax, then begin from a point closer to climax than the last time, like climbing a long winding stair and pausing for breath.

Akira braced herself on her hands, back arched above Reina, her pussy continuing to milk the older woman's cock. Reina put her hand to the younger woman's throat, who leaned into the grip, eyes alight, saliva and the remains of cum drooling down her chin. She flexed her hips. Tremors ran through Reina, who twisted a nipple with her free hand. Akira shuddered; her pussy clenched, transferring the shudder to Reina.

The women fucked harder, hips slamming together in an increased frenzy bringing Reina to the edge of another orgasm. She teetered there for a moment, desperately wanting the sensation to last forever, but praying to come; then she slipped over the precipice. The orgasm gripped her like a vice, her whole body tightened as if trapped an epileptic fit. Tears ran down Akira's face; she wasn't able to speak with Reina's hand on her throat. The older woman realized she was crying, too. Her cock spasmed and all her muscles released. They collapsed together in a sweaty, gasping heap of tangled kimonos, neither able to do more than draw ragged breaths.

Reina sucked Akira's tongue into her mouth, tasting the last of her own cum. Akira raised on her elbows, threads of saliva connecting the two women, her eyes dazed behind the mass of hair over her face. She mumbled something like a name.

"What?" Reina asked.

"Nothing, Shirokami-sama. I moaned with pleasure. You are an excellent and talented partner, a blessing I do not often experience. I find sometimes we say things during the heat of passion, things others hear as words or names. I know it is only our inner natures expressing their joy at sexual release and nothing more."

Reina paused, making sure she understand what the woman on top of her had just said. She grinned, wriggling her hips. "Very perceptive, Akira. Not many understand it well. It is rare to find someone so astute." And subtle enough to make it clear what she hears goes no further than this room.

"Ah, you are still hard, Shirokami-sama," Akira replied, her eyes smoldering--and now clear of her hair. "I am gratified you find me so pleasing you are prepared for a third climax. May I suggest a change of position to something more relaxed where we can take our time?"

They lay on their sides, head to crotch, languidly licking and sucking at each other's sex. Reina tasted her own cum again, well mixed with Akira's vaginal fluid. They made a heady combination, combined with the courtesan's exceptional skills at oral sex. Reina felt herself relax for the first time in months. She and Marie did this--no, had done this; Marie was dead, turned to ash and scattered with the wind on the Pacific coast of America. A momentary sadness filled her before retreating from the onslaught of Akira's tongue and the knowledge all would be resolved.