Red Lily

Beloved

Written By | Series: Maria-sama ga Miteru

Notes and Disclaimers: The series Maria-sama ga Miteru is the property of Konno Oyuki and Shueisha. The characters and situations in this story are entirely the product of my twisted mind.

This story is, again, Sean Gaffney’s fault. I meant that literally. It is part of what we at the Fanfic Revolution refer to as the Marimite Porniverse, as evinced in his masterpiece of smut, Touko in Wonderland. It is not important for you to read it, but it is both entertaining and disturbing. It is also extremely adult in nature. The pertinent piece of his story is quoted below to give you as much context as you really need. -_-;; I do hope you’ll read his story, just because it’s so whacked. This story tells a little bit of the history Sachiko refers to. This is not your Mother’s Lillian. lol

This story is also adult in nature, but because it is not explicit, we’ll call it a “red lily” story. Still, minors stay away. Shoo, shoo.

Since the Fanfic Revolution was directly responsible for this story, we’ll blame, I mean, thank, them. ;-)

I hope you enjoy this story, of course, and that you will take a moment to tell me so. I also continue in my request that if you enjoy this or any of my stories, or my writing on Okazu, that you will purchase a copy of my book, Shoujoai ni Bouken: The Adventures of Yuriko. Because as an author, I can’t afford to be subtle. lol

Anyway, here’s the story.

 

Beloved

**Sachiko walked over to the table and picked up the cat, giving it a quick flip. “This has been in the Yamayurikai for many generations,” she said matter-of-factly. “When oneesama first used it on me, I had to learn its history even as I learned its touch. And so did Yumi, when I introduced her to this room.” She smiled, her eyes seeming to be far away. “That was such a wonderful day.” **

 

“Begin.”

“It began in the 43rd year of the Meiji Era…”

There was a loud “fwhack!” and a sudden burning pain in her back that spread quickly. She stifled a cry by biting her lip.

“Again.”

Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore the pain. “It…it was in the 43rd year of the Meiji Era when this ritual was first performed.” She braced, waiting for the sound and feel of her oneesama’s displeasure. When none came, she continued. “This ritual, the passing on of the rosary, is the core tradition of our school.”

The whip, when it struck, was almost casual. The short braided leather did no more than warm the skin as it touched her.

“Our beloved school.”

“…of our beloved school,” she quickly amended.

“Continue.”

“The discipline meted out by oneesama to imouto ensures that the traditions of our sc…our beloved school…are passed down without misunderstanding or miscomprehension from generation to generation.”

“Good,” Onee-sama said, her gloved hand caressing the now sensitive skin of her back. “Not perfect.” Onee-sama trailed her hand along her arm, as she walked around to her front. Untying the blindfold, her oneesama smiled down at her, leaning in for the briefest kiss on the cheek. “But good.”

“I’m sorry, Onee-sama,” she said, trying her best to imbue her voice with every possible ounce of the sincerity she felt. She knew how important this was. “One more time and I’ll be perfect! I promise!”

“My beloved soeur,” Onee-sama’s voice burned through her in a way that the leather could never do. “I know you will be perfect when the time comes.”

She could feel the bonds loosen and she slipped from the apparatus towards the floor. As her feet touched the ground, she sank to her knees, hands reaching out towards her oneesama’s stocking-clad legs.

“No, please, I beg you. Once more! I don’t want to fail!”

Onee-sama laughed, kneeling on the floor with her, stroking her naked skin with obvious pleasure.

“I know how much this means to you, Onee-sama.”

“I know you do. Truly. This is an important time for us.” Onee-sama sat back, pulling her onto her lap, stroking her gently, caressing her hair.

She leaned her back gingerly onto Onee-sama’s chest, trying to avoid placing pressure on the most sensitive places where the whip had brought up welts.

“This is the first time there has ever been an election for the three Roses. The first time ever,” she recited obediently.

Onee-sama’s voice melted into her. “Yes. Last year, when the student council divided the roles equally, I was honored to take my place as the first Rosa Chinensis. Now you, my beloved soeur, must face the difficult task of earning that place for yourself.”

Onee-sama’s hands held her firmly, wrapping her in a warm embrace. She pressed herself backwards, letting the silk of Onee-sama’s gown cool the fire in her over-sensitive flesh. She looked upwards over her shoulder, hoping to be favored with a kiss. Onee-sama smiled down at her, gently brushing the hair away from her eyes, leaning down for a hard kiss. She gasped when the teeth bit into her lips and again, as they broke the skin.

“My beloved soeur,” Onee-sama whispered against her throat, drawing the length of the cat o’nine tails along her legs. “This is an honor beyond the bounds of language to communicate. You may have taken my rosary, but you still have to be worthy of this, and carry on the proud traditions of our school and of the Rosa Chinensis family. When you stand in front of the other students, you must be able to speak of these traditions with complete conviction.”

“Please, Onee-sama, once more. I’ll show you that I’m worthy,” she breathed, shuddering with the memory of that night when she had accepted both the rosary and Onee-sama as her lover and mistress.

Her Onee-sama pulled away, then lifted her gently to her knees. Standing, Onee-sama slipped the blindfold back over her eyes, tightening the knot in the back. She could feel herself helped to her feet, took a few hesitating steps and came up against something hard and cold. Without hesitation, she lifted her arms to be tied in place.

Before Onee-sama has even completed the last knot, she was already beginning, “The ritual of the rosary was first performed in the 43rd year of the Meiji period…”

***

“Onee-sama,” she breathed deeply, to keep the sadness she felt from her voice.

“This is it, my beloved soeur.” Onee-sama looked grand, the rose pinned to the lapel of her school uniform, finer than any brooch upon that perfect chest. “I am now officially a graduate of this school and you, you are the first to be elected Rosa Chinensis by the student body. I am very proud of you.” Onee-sama lifted her bag, and pulled from it a box, wrapped simply. The box was long and thin and, when she took it into her own hands, not terribly heavy.

She looked down at the box, then back up at Onee-sama, the question plain on her face.

“This is for you. In memory of our time together. And for the future times that you will spend with your own beloved soeur.”

And then she knew what it was.

Smiling, she stood to her fullest height and looked Onee-sama in the eye. “I promise to pass on this tradition to my soeur, and to ensure that she passes it on to her soeur, down through the generations, as long as the title Rosa Chinensis exists.”

And Onee-sama smiled, and gently stroked her cheek. “I know you will, my beloved.”