Each Passing Moment
Practicing Editing with an old Short Story
Ichirou Takahashi glanced at his watch once again, growing more irritable with each passing moment another look at the $105k Hublot Tourbillon Solo Bang on his wrist indicated that time was running out and this heavy traffic only added to his frustration. The meeting dragged on for longer than he would have preferred and although the company take over was a perfect success, as he smugly anticipated, the lingering pathetic begging from the former Director General proved to be both embarrassing and a total waste of time. Better to roll over and give it up, when the Takahashi Enterprises got their talons into a business, they would assume control in the shortest measure of time it took to draw up all the legal papers. Ichirou clenched his fists as the traffic continued to crawl along, he knew he should have took the helicopter.
“Gyosha! Find a shorter route!” He snapped, sitting back and deliberately pulling the sleeve of his made-to-measure designer suit over the expensive watch and allowed his mind to wonder. There was still time before the danger zone, where serious egdeplay could cost his Otetsudaisan suffer permanent injury, or worse. Absently he pondered over who was the actual Dom in this arrangement? Then the Bentley surged forwards turning down a narrow side street speeding more swiftly to his luxurious estate on the outskirts of Osaka.
Smiling smugly as he crossed his legs to enjoy the rest of the journey, safe in the knowledge that he should arrive home now at exactly the correct point in time. Most of the pleasure that he took from this scenario was the fact that he could totally and utterly control an individual without even being in the same room as them. That he could master Otetsudaisan from his office, boardroom, restaurant or squash court and she would still be exactly where he had left her, waiting, anticipating, eager to serve. It was all about ultimate control.
Though there was but one limitation and this is where Otetsudaisan held the power to reduce him to submissive. For he always had to return within a strict time restriction and this was her ultimate control over him. Any longer and the point where actual physical damage would start to become more permanent increased with each passing moment. He was always perfectly on time, he had to be in control.
As the Bently rollled up outside the gates of his estate Ichirou regarded his watch one last time, to comform what he already knew with confidence, that his timing home was to his usual perfection. He paused as the car halted by the glass doors to his sanctuary, watching the second hand circle the face. He had to be that precise and upon the appointed moment pre-arranged carefully calculated he finally exited the car to return to Otetsudaisan.
To find the glass entry doors shut and locked in his face. He frowned in utter confusion and in his ignorance tried several times to get through the polished glass barrier, a little to the amusement of Gyosha, who wisely kept his smirk hidden away from his increasingly frustrated boss.
Ichirou had never known his house to be locked up, his security system was so highly evolved that he had never felt the need to lock anything, except his safe. There was a keypad to the side on the wall by the doors, numbers to a code he had never used and a slot for a key-card he didn’t have on him. In fact he did not recall ever owning a key-card to his estate. His confusion swiftly changed to frustration then to anger.
“Gyosha!” He barked, “Your key-card, now!” Ichirou turned to face his driver, who wisely wiped the amused grin from his expression swiftly and just as swiftly he began to search himself and the Bently for anything that resembled a key-card. Though he could not recall ever seeing one or being handed one, he would not have the authourity clearance required to have the permission to own one. Yet still he searched in a vain hope that Ichirou had left one in the car for such emergencies.
A small ‘beep’ from that tell-tale watch indicated that time was up! He had failed to return to Otetsudaisan in the correct measured time limit and now she would be facing true harm if he did not get into the house soon.
Gyosha started to panic, aware that he would have to admit failure to his boss, but there was no key-card in the car. Ichirou glanced over to him and Gyosha was forced to reply with a hopeless shrug unable to help. He wondered how the key-card would work without the code, but wisely kept his concerns to himself.
“Go around the back, see if the back door is open, find Uekiya, see if he has a key-card!” Ichirou shouted commands at the shameful driver, who quickly bolted to obey, eager to please after his recent failure. Running across the immaculately manicured grass, through sculptured trees around the back of the estate. While Ichirou paced across the thresh – hold, waiting, impaitence growing, nerves developing, occasionally his watch added insult to injury as it beeped with each passing moment.
Finally Gyosha returned with Uekiya, but neither servant could aid their master in his prediciment. Uekiya was the gardener, and as such he would not have the security clearance required for access into the house, he was permitted to attend to the garden alone. Neither did he have keys for the back door, but he was able to inform Ichirou that the balcony doors to his personal suite were slightly open and suggested a ladder would easily reach these.
Another ‘beep’… Ichirou could not afford to waste time with ladders and stunts, he knew his driver to be armed, of cause he was Gyosha also doubled up as security. “Shoot the glass!” He yelled. Without hesitation, or questioning why the option of a ladder was dismissed, Gyosha fired at the doors, it took several shots, but finally the reinforced glass shattered.
Ichirou stepped over the carnage and both Gyosha and Uekiya started to follow. Ichirou turned sharply, “Wait here!” he shouted and ran the rest of the way to his personal quarters on the first floor… each passing moment only adding to his anxiety.
Kinbaku is a nobel and perfect art, it takes time and precision to get the asanawa rope perfectly lined up and the correct knots to restrain a woman in a erotic and immobile position. It was an art Ichirou was passionate about, a skill he had developed over years, yet there was also a real danger to the human body when held in a set pose for too long, escpcally since his styles also incorporated some measure of autoerotic-asphyxiation.
Gingerly he approached Otetsudaisan, she was still where he had left her over an hour ago, perfectly tied and bound in a ‘Kataashi age tsuri shibari’. She was still, very still, hanging limply in strong bonds, her body heavy and stiff. Ichirou felt bile rose up in his throat and panic swell in his stomache as he reached out to touch her face, her long hair was elegantly bound int othe knot work, but her lips here blue, eyes starred ahead, no breath came from her form and it was clear she had been dead quite some time.
Ichirou frowned as he looked closely at the fectures of the dead woman, it took a few moments to realise that it was not Otetsudaisan. He swallowed hard, confused and still in a panic. For this meant that he now has a stranger hanging, quite dead, from his ceiling. Although he had no doubt his influence could make this whole situation vanish as though it had never happened it did raise a few questions.
Looking around the room, he noticed the door to his safe open. That was when he heard the Bentley start up and speed off down the drive, as Otetsudaisan, Gyosha and Uekiya fled the scene, the reality of the situation dawning on Ichirou with each passing moment.
Originally Written 17.12.15
Anne Harrison 28.06.18