Chapter Thirteen: She Who Holds the Whip:

August 23rd, 1980.

Young Shichiro loved her wavy wine purple hair. She was different; so much so that he didn't know where to start. However, she wasn't just a pretty face. Her tongue cut worse than knife. She didn't always follow Japanese etiquette. Many feared and loved her as a result. She just wanted the perfect dog. Because of that, Shichiro went from one master to another. He was a just a sucker-dog for pretty hair.

August 14th, 2009.

Shichiro made it home from the infirmary that evening. He looked around in the darkened living room. "Amaya-chan," he whispered. "You still awake?" The man closed his eyes and sniffed the air. Lavender and ginger tickled his nose. He followed the scent through the hall to their bedroom. His heart raced as he touched the door and slid it open. Not a single inch of light greeted him, but the scent increased. Shichiro closed his eyes and deeply took in the scent.

"You washed your hair?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," a voice murmured. The professor scanned the darkness for his wife. He spotted her lying on their Western-style bed. Her amber eyes seemed to glow in the dark at him. Shichiro gave her a little smile.

"Hello there," he said. Amaya looked him up and down.

"Coming to bed?" she asked.

"Why yes I am," her husband replied. He walked over to the bed and climbed on. Amaya kissed him once.

"God, you're beautiful," Shichiro whispered. She giggled a bit.

"Have a good day?" Amaya asked as she grabbed onto his tie. He shook his head sadly.

"I'm dying again," he told her. She paused as she looked at him with genuine concern in her eyes.

"What?” she asked. Shichiro nodded with a grave look in his eyes.

"I'll have to kill again," he told her. Amaya climbed on top of him and kissed him on the lips.

"I love it when you kill!" she said aloud in a hungry tone. He gave her a sad little smile.

"But, I don't want to kill anybody," her husband murmured. Amaya frowned at him.

"But you must kill or you'll die," she pointed out.

"I know, but I can't do it!" he said in a pitiful tone. She pinned him down by the shoulders. Her husband winced in pain as she nipped him on the neck.

"Are you saying you're not man enough?" she asked aloud. Amaya pulled out his tie and threw it to the floor. He shook his head.

"We can't afford to kill anymore at the school. It attracts too much attention," Shichiro reasoned with her.

"What about that girl who is in love with you?" his wife asked as she got started on the buttons of his shirt. Her husband gave her a puzzled look.

"Who, Setsuko?" he asked.

"Yeah!" she said at the top of her lungs. She discarded his shirt to the floor. Shichiro thought about that for a second.

"Maybe," he replied. His wife nipped him on the shoulder again. He chuckled as her teeth sank into his skin.

"Ow, feisty, aren't you?" the professor asked. She giggled at him in response. Amaya slowly unfastened his belt. He took in slow breathes as he trembled.

"Oh, hungry aren't you?" the professor asked. She licked on his bare collarbone. Her naked breasts rubbed up against his exposed chest. She slipped her tongue into his mouth.

In between kisses, she said, "Be the man I fell in love with twenty-nine years ago!" Her husband glanced up at her.

"How?" he asked.

"Kill for me again," Amaya whispered aloud. Shichiro gave her a little smile.

"I'll see what I can do," he answered. Amaya giggled and nuzzled his chest while unzipping his trousers. He felt himself getting hard at her touch. She smirked to herself.

"I know what you want," his wife whispered. Shichiro nodded at her quickly.

"Take me!" he pleaded. "I need you!"

"That badly?" his wife asked as she licked him on his right ear lobe.

"Yes!" he moaned aloud. Amaya smirked at him.

Okay then," she replied. "I'll give it to you."

Shichiro slowly smiled with a hazed over look in his eyes.

"Oh, yeah! I am yours!" he moaned aloud. His wife smirked and slid off his pants. Her fingers played with his boxers before taking them off. Her touch sent little chills up and down his spine. Amaya sat up and guided him into her.

She rode him as if she was breaking a wild horse in the open freedom. Shichiro lied there and took it. The ginger-lavender scent of her wine purple hair kept him high all night. Amaya only had to taunt him and use her naked body to keep the leash on him. After all, Amaya was the master and Shichiro was the dog. He threw his head back and moaned out.

"Oh God, I can't hold back!" he cried as he reached the climax. The professor let go of his juices as his wife collapsed on top of him. Shichiro stroked his wife's pretty hair as she slept on his chest. He gently kissed her on the head.

"I'll give you the best kill, my dear wife," Shichiro whispered. Amaya was the master and her husband was her little dog.