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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. It depicts nonconsensual sexual acts between adults. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of nonconsensual sex in real life. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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- This story ist part of the Ravished in a Flash Tournament
- It competes against Sakura in the Final match
- Theme: Cherry Blossom
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Under the cherry blossoms - Sakura night
That night, Kyoto lay beneath a sea of cherry blossoms. The trees were heavy in full bloom, their delicate leaves floating in the breeze like a thousand quiet, sweet-smelling promises. But for Sakura, the young woman named after the blossom, that night wasn't a promise. It was a judgment.
Eighteen years old, untouched, shy. Her parents had sold her innocence like a commodity. For her, for her debts, for their own benefit. And no one had asked.
Akamatsu-sama. A rich man with power who took what he pleased. It was said that girls who went to him never returned the same.
As she stepped out of the carriage, her knees trembled. The kimono was too thin, too light, and the wind played with the fabric, gently caressing her bare skin.
The garden was beautiful—but its beauty was cruel. Everything was so quiet, so unearthly peaceful, it hurt. Sakura felt her own heart pounding as she was led to the pavilion. The lanterns cast flickering light on a man whose face was in shadow. Only his eyes were visible. Dark, impenetrable.
"Come closer."
His voice was deep, calm. He didn't need to shout. Her fear did the rest.
She knelt as she'd been ordered. The gravel beneath her knees ached. But worse was the trembling she couldn't suppress. Her hands rested in her lap, and she felt the kimono slipping over her chest, the delicate fabric against her sensitive skin.
"Tie yourself." He handed her a black silk rope.
Her fingers trembled. She wanted to escape. To scream. But her mouth remained dry, her throat tight. She reached for the rope, felt the slippery cold, and knotted it around her wrists. Not tight enough.
"Tighter."
She tightened the loops until the blood pulsed in her fingers. The humiliation burned inside her like a dirty fire.
"Stand up."
He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His fingers were hard, her skin raw. She felt a tear escape and run down her cheek. He smiled. Then he led her to a wooden frame in the pavilion and let her hang with her bound arms above her head. Her toes barely touched the ground. The kimono slipped over her shoulders, revealing her bare skin, her small breasts puckering in the cool air. Shame burned on her like a stigma.
"Do you know why I chose you?" he whispered close to her ear as the cherry blossoms rained down on her.
She just shook her head.
"Because I like breaking. The moment when fear turns into desire. When you no longer know whether you hate me or want me."
A sharp, hard leather strap hit her thigh. She flinched, a strangled sound escaping her throat. A second, a third blow followed. Her skin burned. Her whole body tensed, and yet... a fleeting, dirty tremor in her core. It frightened her.
"Your body betrays you." He ran a hand over the reddened welts, between her legs, finding the telltale wetness.
Sakura closed her eyes. Shame and something else... darker, wilder... rose within her.
"You belong to me now." He took a blindfold and tied it on her. The world sank away. There was only sound—his breathing, the rustling of the blossoms, the soft creaking of the wood as she moved.
His touches became more demanding, deeper, more ruthless. But in the darkness of her fear, something inexplicable awoke, something that frightened her too.
Sakura could barely breathe. Her thoughts chased each other, swirling around her like falling cherry blossom petals. Was that still her own body? Her own skin trembling beneath his fingers? Part of her wanted to scream, cry, and beg him to stop. But another part... was silent. Frozen by a strange, hot cold that slowly ate its way up from her core.
Why... why did she suddenly feel dizzy when his fingers brushed over the welts on her skin? Why did she feel that telltale pang deep in her stomach when his hand lifted her chin, forcing her to open to him even when she didn't want to?
She felt as if she were immersed in a thick fog. The world no longer had a bottom, no direction. Everything was blurred—the boundaries between pain and a disturbing, burning heat, between disgust and this strange excitement that took her breath away.
"This isn't right... this shouldn't be happening..." she thought repeatedly, while her lips trembled and her body tensed beneath his hands, twitching, moving in a way that frightened even her.
"Stop... please..." She no longer knew if she was saying it out loud or just in her head.
But Akamatsu-sama had long since noticed what was going on inside her. He felt the trembling, which no longer came solely from fear. He felt how her skin not only recoiled under his touch, but sometimes gave way of its own accord for a fraction of a heartbeat. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Not just from pain. Not just from fear. But from shame. Shame about what her own body betrayed. About what was growing inside her in this strange, dark chamber while the rain of cherry blossoms fell outside.
"Why... why does this... feel like this...?"
She didn't understand. She didn't know if it was the burning of the ropes rubbing against her wrists or the throbbing between her thighs that she couldn't explain. It was all too much. Too close. Too strange. She had always thought she knew who she was. A good girl, obedient, demure, with clear ideas of good and evil. But that night, beneath those blood-red cherry blossoms, something broke inside her. And from the cracks seeped a dark desire she had never known.
When Akamatsu-sama removed her blindfold, she looked at him. Her eyelashes were wet with tears, her face ashen, but there was something new in her black eyes. Something broke. And something that shimmered like a forbidden spark.
The cherry blossoms were still falling. But to Sakura, they no longer tasted of spring.
They tasted of sin.
