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sevenswellsHahaha, did I actually say that this was "easy" to translate? I must have been wasted.
Title: Hoshi no Suna
Author:sevenswells
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sur-pri-iiiise!
Warnings: Not safe for work, yuri (bwahaha!), rape, angst, alternate universe (even more AU than usual. Yup.)
Word Count: 1877 w.
Comments: Dedicated to brilliantkamexkame , my first and favourite victim beta, your help is precious; to invincible supacat - I'm super glad that you're back, wheeee! - and to dazzling thin_lipid who made this glam rock geisha Mimi icon that I'm crazy about - you have so many skills, girl, it's scary! Rock on!
Okay, now I have to warn you: this chapter is weird. Plus it's not even a chapter, I arrogantly call it an "interlude" because it's transitional (which is the reason why HnS has actually 13 chapters and not exactly 14). I wrote it and then I went on a huuuuge hiatus that has been lasting for almost a year before I decided to go back to writing. It's all thanks to my anerable beta that I finally decided to include it.
In the so-called timeline of this fic, I believe it's not situated right after what happened in chapter 5, but way later (because Miyavi is getting into shuffle mode XDDD).
Title: Hoshi no Suna
Author:
sevenswells Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sur-pri-iiiise!
Warnings: Not safe for work, yuri (bwahaha!), rape, angst, alternate universe (even more AU than usual. Yup.)
Word Count: 1877 w.
Comments: Dedicated to brilliant
kamexkame , my first and favourite supacat - I'm super glad that you're back, wheeee! - and to dazzling thin_lipid who made this glam rock geisha Mimi icon that I'm crazy about - you have so many skills, girl, it's scary! Rock on!Okay, now I have to warn you: this chapter is weird. Plus it's not even a chapter, I arrogantly call it an "interlude" because it's transitional (which is the reason why HnS has actually 13 chapters and not exactly 14). I wrote it and then I went on a huuuuge hiatus that has been lasting for almost a year before I decided to go back to writing. It's all thanks to my anerable beta that I finally decided to include it.
In the so-called timeline of this fic, I believe it's not situated right after what happened in chapter 5, but way later (because Miyavi is getting into shuffle mode XDDD).
-That is absolutely out of the question, said Gakuto.
-I warn you, this is the last time I'm asking nicely, said Miyabe.
Miyabe didn't like her way of pronouncing the words, as if her tongue was made of porcelain and would chip from chinking too much against her teeth. As if her spiteful stare and chin raised high weren't already attesting how much of a snob the bitch was. Though Miyabe definitely knew which one of them was the real queen.
-Please get out of my house at once, said Gakuto in a final tone, getting up and starting to move towards the door. The silk of her kimono rustled fluidly, like a mountain stream. Miyabe got up too and caught Gakuto's wrist, which was small, she could feel it through the layers of cloth. Good quality, she thought, but I can afford these too, even more expensive ones.
-Not so fast, onee-san. No need to act all high and mighty with me, the whole district knows about your money problems. It doesn't pay so much anymore, does it, to drink tea with old men nowadays, huh?
Gakuto did not let it show, but Miyabe was certain that she had hit the nail on the head. Through the imperceptible twitch of her eyelid, she knew she had wounded her, and felt quite a bout of pleasure from it.
-Why would you want to learn from me, then? said Gakuto, lowering her eyes. I don't understand you.
-I have my reasons, they're of no concern to you. But I do pay well, you know I've got the means to. Accept the money, if only to preserve a... façade of sorts.
Once again, she knew her words got through the armour of the geisha. She would have liked to leave the room right away, to keep this unique moment as a precious memory - God, it almost made her wet, Gakuto, Edo's most famous geisha, at her, Miyabe the lowly whore's, unworthy feet. But this whore had known how to rise: numerous were the town's figures, magistrates and politicians, who were already fighting to obtain her favours. Since a very young age, she'd understood that sex was a weapon more subtle than that one could think. A body was worth any other, she knew that, and hers held no extraordinary peculiarity. However, she'd understood how to make herself become unique, and essential. There were the techniques, of course, and she knew she was quite skilled and imaginative in that field, but then again, anybody else could become an expert if they tried. Thus, she had added a few more tricks to her bag: listening to those pigs in bed when they talked about their little problems, at work, or when they rambled about their (too) sweet wife. Being capricious, from time to time - those whims where important, too; strokes and slashes should be dispensed alternately in order to dominate those men she despised, each and every one of them. Money gradually flew in as she gained more experience and patrons; soon she was able to open her own brothel, which brought even more funds. She was prudent, so she diversified her trade, made wise investments and now she was ruling Edo from the shadows. She kept her friends close, her enemies closer; her decisions were respected, her orders feared and her angers dreaded. Nonetheless, the little girl with the dirty cheeks who, from the gutter where she stood, used to look at the beautiful powdered ladies passing by, hadn't entirely left the powerful person she had become. She had obtained everything she had lacked since that time, yet only one thing was still cruelly missing: the varnish of refinement. She possessed gorgeous china, but she knew something was off when she used it. She thought her fingers coarse, against the regal blue of her favourite cup. She suspected that the curve of her wrist was inelegant when she tipped it to drink and, when her lips dipped in the beverage, she couldn't appreciate it, undermining as those details were. All the rare and expensive objects she had strived so much to put together, seemed to gang up on her and scream: usurper! Street girl!
I embellish this hairdo, but I do not adorn it, said the sandal wood and mother-of-pearl comb in her black hair. I disguise this body, but I do not dress it, said the silken kimono on her made up skin.
Of course, she could pretend she didn't care and force the objects to submit to her will, but the uneasiness she felt then was so strong that it gave her nausea. And she felt on the verge of frantic vomitting if by a turn of fortune her path ever crossed that of Gakuto's.
Everything about her exuded nobility and grace. When the stare of a man met hers, she lowered her eyes and her cheekbones turned slightly pink under the make up, as charming and delicate as a petal. If it took Miyabe's fancy to do the same, her gesture was immediately interpreted as a come-on. Gakuto's fingers on the china cup were ornaments, her lips an extension of the rim and her white throat barely rippled when she sipped her tea, fully savouring it in that perfect moment when everything fell into in its right place.
Born into a good family, trained into distinction, Gakuto was the pupil of Madoka, a famous geisha who had been called "The Chrysanthemum". The latter never had a reason to complain about her disciple and had finally trusted her with her business when old age took over. Gakuto wasn't a bad manager, quite the contrary: she simply lacked ambition. The Chrysanthemum House kept receiving aging and nostalgic patrons but, without a fresh contribution of capital, the parties and tea ceremonies didn't hold the sumptuousness of the old days.
Gakuto had no choice but to accept Miyabe's offer.
When the latter, triumphant, went back home that evening, she lounged like a cat in her embroided sheets. Out of a whim, she wished to eat a nasty vegetable curry for supper, even though she could afford richer dishes. She had it served in bed, and she stained her robe and her sheets. She laughed a lot when she saw the blotches blooming on the fine materials. She put her unwashed bowl directly upon the small persian carpet at the foot of her bed, and fell asleep like a baby, without bothering to change her clothes. Her lessons of in manners and bearing with Gakuto were starting the next day.
The sadist! The monster!
-Make your back straight, straighter! Your hand, how horrible! I do not care if your legs hurt, twist them, if you must!
And she punctuated her merciless comments with pokes of her fan on the accused body parts. Miyabe let her, at least at the beginning, but when Gakuto struck her shoulder blades harder than necessary, she saw red.
Frigid virgin bitch, she thought with rage, she takes her revenge and tries to pick on me, she'll see.
- You're teaching me so many things, mistress, you're so good to me, she started, calm and purring.
-What is it?
-Though my money won't be enough to make your clients stay, will it? Don't you want to learn from me, too?
She was down on all fours and had gotten dangerously near Gakuto, whose expression was that of a hunted beast.
-Stay at your place, the lesson is not over!
-Come on, mistress, we can afford a little break. Don't you want to know, she said while genty taking her hand, how to make a man become your slave?
-Stop that right now and go back to your place, I'm warning you...
-Do you know how weak the most ill-mannered boor is, when you're holding him, all in your mouth?
She started to suck on her index finger. Gakuto's face turned bright red. She withdrew her hand promptly and stood up.
-Take your money back, harlot! she spat, gathering her robes about her legs, in order to avoid any further contact with Miyabe. I can make nothing out of you anyhow!
-Oh, yes, you can, retorted Miyabe, also getting up. She was a few inches taller than her. Feel it, mistress.
She forcefully took her hand back and slid it inside her kimono, upon a nipple.
-Can you feel it? Hitting me with your fan made them hard.
The geisha seemed to be out of air. Even though her initial intention had been to make fun of her a little, Miyabe was actually turned on, and thought it might be amusing to do her. She rubbed herself lasciviously against Gakuto's hand, and her skin was suddenly set ablaze. As if she were possessed, she wanted to undo Gakuto's obi precipitately, but Gakuto struggled, crying like a plaintive bird. They lost their balance and both fell on the floor, taking with them, in their fall, the teapot and the china cups which broke and spilled their boiling hot content. The wicker mat exhaled a brief cloud of vapor. Miyabe squeezed her victim between her thighs, the inside of which was starting to get moist; this impromptu fight was exciting her further still. With an unsuspected strength, she ripped her rival's clothes, and she struggled even more. The friction of the clothes wreathed a voluptuous cry out of Miyabe. Offered to her eyes, Gakuto's naked body was white and perfect, except for the fresh scratches her resistance had brought upon it. Miyabe couldn't stop herself from licking at those beautiful, delicious wounds, then she took off her kimono and shamelessly rubbed her crotch against the cold, white thigh under her. Gakuto, powerless and humiliated, hid her face with her hands. Miyabe covered her body entirely with hers, crushing her with all her weight, breasts against breasts, crushed, and took her wrists to draw them apart. Her face was very close to Gakuto's, swallowing her breathing and insufflating her own, at a smaller and smaller distance, until their lips finally touched and crushed in turn. Miyabe wanted to make her melt, but the tongue she was tasting was rigid and numb, lifeless. Miyabe wanted to make her melt. Her fingers bolted forth and worked their way in between Gakuto's thighs, but when they penetrated her, forcing the closed lips, they could not go any further. Miyabe got up. Her arms were limply hanging alongside her body. During an infininite moment, she stood there, staring at Gakuto's curled up body - she was, seemingly, crying - on the wicker mat browned by the tea, amongst the broken pieces of porcelain.
-Mock me, her rival was sobbing. Mock me!
Miyabe said nothing. There was nothing to say, not even excuses to make. Her stare halted on the white splinters scattered over the floor that, before her eyes, her own tears were transforming into blurry patches, constantly growing, until they definitively melted altogether and formed a wave of foam.
Miyabi wakes up with a start in the hotel room. He's got a hard on and his cheeks are wet. His first thought is to ask himself what could that funny dream have meant. Then, he goes back to sleep, and forgets it forever.
-I warn you, this is the last time I'm asking nicely, said Miyabe.
Miyabe didn't like her way of pronouncing the words, as if her tongue was made of porcelain and would chip from chinking too much against her teeth. As if her spiteful stare and chin raised high weren't already attesting how much of a snob the bitch was. Though Miyabe definitely knew which one of them was the real queen.
-Please get out of my house at once, said Gakuto in a final tone, getting up and starting to move towards the door. The silk of her kimono rustled fluidly, like a mountain stream. Miyabe got up too and caught Gakuto's wrist, which was small, she could feel it through the layers of cloth. Good quality, she thought, but I can afford these too, even more expensive ones.
-Not so fast, onee-san. No need to act all high and mighty with me, the whole district knows about your money problems. It doesn't pay so much anymore, does it, to drink tea with old men nowadays, huh?
Gakuto did not let it show, but Miyabe was certain that she had hit the nail on the head. Through the imperceptible twitch of her eyelid, she knew she had wounded her, and felt quite a bout of pleasure from it.
-Why would you want to learn from me, then? said Gakuto, lowering her eyes. I don't understand you.
-I have my reasons, they're of no concern to you. But I do pay well, you know I've got the means to. Accept the money, if only to preserve a... façade of sorts.
Once again, she knew her words got through the armour of the geisha. She would have liked to leave the room right away, to keep this unique moment as a precious memory - God, it almost made her wet, Gakuto, Edo's most famous geisha, at her, Miyabe the lowly whore's, unworthy feet. But this whore had known how to rise: numerous were the town's figures, magistrates and politicians, who were already fighting to obtain her favours. Since a very young age, she'd understood that sex was a weapon more subtle than that one could think. A body was worth any other, she knew that, and hers held no extraordinary peculiarity. However, she'd understood how to make herself become unique, and essential. There were the techniques, of course, and she knew she was quite skilled and imaginative in that field, but then again, anybody else could become an expert if they tried. Thus, she had added a few more tricks to her bag: listening to those pigs in bed when they talked about their little problems, at work, or when they rambled about their (too) sweet wife. Being capricious, from time to time - those whims where important, too; strokes and slashes should be dispensed alternately in order to dominate those men she despised, each and every one of them. Money gradually flew in as she gained more experience and patrons; soon she was able to open her own brothel, which brought even more funds. She was prudent, so she diversified her trade, made wise investments and now she was ruling Edo from the shadows. She kept her friends close, her enemies closer; her decisions were respected, her orders feared and her angers dreaded. Nonetheless, the little girl with the dirty cheeks who, from the gutter where she stood, used to look at the beautiful powdered ladies passing by, hadn't entirely left the powerful person she had become. She had obtained everything she had lacked since that time, yet only one thing was still cruelly missing: the varnish of refinement. She possessed gorgeous china, but she knew something was off when she used it. She thought her fingers coarse, against the regal blue of her favourite cup. She suspected that the curve of her wrist was inelegant when she tipped it to drink and, when her lips dipped in the beverage, she couldn't appreciate it, undermining as those details were. All the rare and expensive objects she had strived so much to put together, seemed to gang up on her and scream: usurper! Street girl!
I embellish this hairdo, but I do not adorn it, said the sandal wood and mother-of-pearl comb in her black hair. I disguise this body, but I do not dress it, said the silken kimono on her made up skin.
Of course, she could pretend she didn't care and force the objects to submit to her will, but the uneasiness she felt then was so strong that it gave her nausea. And she felt on the verge of frantic vomitting if by a turn of fortune her path ever crossed that of Gakuto's.
Everything about her exuded nobility and grace. When the stare of a man met hers, she lowered her eyes and her cheekbones turned slightly pink under the make up, as charming and delicate as a petal. If it took Miyabe's fancy to do the same, her gesture was immediately interpreted as a come-on. Gakuto's fingers on the china cup were ornaments, her lips an extension of the rim and her white throat barely rippled when she sipped her tea, fully savouring it in that perfect moment when everything fell into in its right place.
Born into a good family, trained into distinction, Gakuto was the pupil of Madoka, a famous geisha who had been called "The Chrysanthemum". The latter never had a reason to complain about her disciple and had finally trusted her with her business when old age took over. Gakuto wasn't a bad manager, quite the contrary: she simply lacked ambition. The Chrysanthemum House kept receiving aging and nostalgic patrons but, without a fresh contribution of capital, the parties and tea ceremonies didn't hold the sumptuousness of the old days.
Gakuto had no choice but to accept Miyabe's offer.
When the latter, triumphant, went back home that evening, she lounged like a cat in her embroided sheets. Out of a whim, she wished to eat a nasty vegetable curry for supper, even though she could afford richer dishes. She had it served in bed, and she stained her robe and her sheets. She laughed a lot when she saw the blotches blooming on the fine materials. She put her unwashed bowl directly upon the small persian carpet at the foot of her bed, and fell asleep like a baby, without bothering to change her clothes. Her lessons of in manners and bearing with Gakuto were starting the next day.
The sadist! The monster!
-Make your back straight, straighter! Your hand, how horrible! I do not care if your legs hurt, twist them, if you must!
And she punctuated her merciless comments with pokes of her fan on the accused body parts. Miyabe let her, at least at the beginning, but when Gakuto struck her shoulder blades harder than necessary, she saw red.
Frigid virgin bitch, she thought with rage, she takes her revenge and tries to pick on me, she'll see.
- You're teaching me so many things, mistress, you're so good to me, she started, calm and purring.
-What is it?
-Though my money won't be enough to make your clients stay, will it? Don't you want to learn from me, too?
She was down on all fours and had gotten dangerously near Gakuto, whose expression was that of a hunted beast.
-Stay at your place, the lesson is not over!
-Come on, mistress, we can afford a little break. Don't you want to know, she said while genty taking her hand, how to make a man become your slave?
-Stop that right now and go back to your place, I'm warning you...
-Do you know how weak the most ill-mannered boor is, when you're holding him, all in your mouth?
She started to suck on her index finger. Gakuto's face turned bright red. She withdrew her hand promptly and stood up.
-Take your money back, harlot! she spat, gathering her robes about her legs, in order to avoid any further contact with Miyabe. I can make nothing out of you anyhow!
-Oh, yes, you can, retorted Miyabe, also getting up. She was a few inches taller than her. Feel it, mistress.
She forcefully took her hand back and slid it inside her kimono, upon a nipple.
-Can you feel it? Hitting me with your fan made them hard.
The geisha seemed to be out of air. Even though her initial intention had been to make fun of her a little, Miyabe was actually turned on, and thought it might be amusing to do her. She rubbed herself lasciviously against Gakuto's hand, and her skin was suddenly set ablaze. As if she were possessed, she wanted to undo Gakuto's obi precipitately, but Gakuto struggled, crying like a plaintive bird. They lost their balance and both fell on the floor, taking with them, in their fall, the teapot and the china cups which broke and spilled their boiling hot content. The wicker mat exhaled a brief cloud of vapor. Miyabe squeezed her victim between her thighs, the inside of which was starting to get moist; this impromptu fight was exciting her further still. With an unsuspected strength, she ripped her rival's clothes, and she struggled even more. The friction of the clothes wreathed a voluptuous cry out of Miyabe. Offered to her eyes, Gakuto's naked body was white and perfect, except for the fresh scratches her resistance had brought upon it. Miyabe couldn't stop herself from licking at those beautiful, delicious wounds, then she took off her kimono and shamelessly rubbed her crotch against the cold, white thigh under her. Gakuto, powerless and humiliated, hid her face with her hands. Miyabe covered her body entirely with hers, crushing her with all her weight, breasts against breasts, crushed, and took her wrists to draw them apart. Her face was very close to Gakuto's, swallowing her breathing and insufflating her own, at a smaller and smaller distance, until their lips finally touched and crushed in turn. Miyabe wanted to make her melt, but the tongue she was tasting was rigid and numb, lifeless. Miyabe wanted to make her melt. Her fingers bolted forth and worked their way in between Gakuto's thighs, but when they penetrated her, forcing the closed lips, they could not go any further. Miyabe got up. Her arms were limply hanging alongside her body. During an infininite moment, she stood there, staring at Gakuto's curled up body - she was, seemingly, crying - on the wicker mat browned by the tea, amongst the broken pieces of porcelain.
-Mock me, her rival was sobbing. Mock me!
Miyabe said nothing. There was nothing to say, not even excuses to make. Her stare halted on the white splinters scattered over the floor that, before her eyes, her own tears were transforming into blurry patches, constantly growing, until they definitively melted altogether and formed a wave of foam.
Miyabi wakes up with a start in the hotel room. He's got a hard on and his cheeks are wet. His first thought is to ask himself what could that funny dream have meant. Then, he goes back to sleep, and forgets it forever.
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no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 04:22 pm (UTC)I love them too~ <33
I made a video! :O! I dunno if you've seen it, but I posted it on youtube like years ago and I just don't remember to post them in my works journal...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=518qZeAEXkI
no subject
Date: 2008-04-03 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-03 03:57 pm (UTC)I tried. I actually couldn't make it in one sitting cause I got lazy. XDD So for once I tried and managed to make something decent!
\8D/
Yay me!