CHAPTER 437: CHAPTER 334: BONDAGE PLAY 3

"I fell asleep..." Minamoto Tamako said with her eyes closed.

Fushimi Roku suspected she hadn’t sobered up yet and reached out to pry open her eyelids, holding up a finger, "How many is this?"

"Two," Minamoto Tamako mumbled incoherently.

"Why two?" Fushimi Roku held down Minamoto Tamako’s restless hand. He didn’t want to take advantage of her, especially since she reeked of alcohol.

Minamoto Tamako was awake but not fully. She stretched out her small hands, head down, gesturing in front of her eyes, first with her thumb, then her index finger, chanting, "One, two...one, two..."

Fushimi Roku glanced at the clock; it was 3 a.m., and she still hadn’t sobered up.

"Alright, go back to your room to sleep..."

Fushimi Roku leaned over, intending to carry her off the bed, but unexpectedly, Minamoto Tamako suddenly kicked him in the stomach like a rabbit kicking an eagle, then flipped over and pinned him down.

Ouch...

Fushimi Roku felt a sharp pain in his stomach, not expecting that drunk Minamoto Tamako could kick so fiercely. If he’d known, he would’ve wrapped her in a blanket.

Generally, people go through three stages when drinking: excitement, coordination disorder, and sleep. These stages progress gradually. Some people, with a good tolerance, skip straight from excitement to sleep; others, with poor tolerance, revert to coordination disorder after the sleep phase, continuing the drunken antics...

Minamoto Tamako straddled his waist, hands pressed against his chest, eyed half-open, asking flirtatiously, "Where are you going?"

"I’m not going anywhere, you need to go back to your room..."

"Still not behaving!" Minamoto Tamako slapped his side with a ’slap’.

Fushimi Roku gasped from the stinging pain, immediately grabbing Minamoto Tamako: "That’s enough—"

No sooner had he spoken than Minamoto Tamako leaned over, her upper body pressed against his chest, her face close to his, noses almost touching, feeling each other’s breath on their lips.

Fushimi Roku thought she was going to kiss him, froze momentarily, body tense, then suddenly felt something cold on his wrist, like wearing a bracelet. Minamoto Tamako got up again, pulling his hand towards the bedpost.

What is she doing?

Fushimi Roku gulped, chest rising slightly.

He didn’t take advantage of others due to his principles, but if the other party took the initiative, violating those principles, he would just chide her later...

"Get down, why do you get to be on top?"

Fushimi Roku was about to rise when his wrist suddenly felt heavy. He looked over and realized the silver bracelet on his wrist was actually a handcuff.

"Haha! Caught you!" Minamoto Tamako said, cupping his face.

Fushimi Roku sneered. He could subdue Minamoto Tamako with just one hand and inherited Kawai’s Lock-opening Skill, allowing him to unlock the cuffs at will.

Before he could make a move, Minamoto Tamako hugged his arm, pressing her cheek against his palm, murmuring, "Don’t move...stay still...it’ll be over soon..."

"What are you doing?" Fushimi Roku pinched her cheek, finding it quite soft.

"I’m going to lock you up..."

Minamoto Tamako leaned against his arm, wobbling, saying, "Then tell you a big secret..."

Fushimi Roku perked up his ears, wondering if there was a second round. His previous attempts to get Minamoto Tamako to confess had failed because the condition of ’being Minamoto Tamako’s possession’ hadn’t been satisfied?

"What secret?" he prodded subtly.

"...A big secret." Minamoto Tamako finished with a silly giggle.

"Once you cuff me...you can tell me?" Fushimi Roku thought this was a rare opportunity.

After all this fuss, he just wanted Minamoto Tamako to say something sincere to him. He’d even used his own ’death’ as leverage—what’s a bit of cuffing in comparison?

"Of course!" Minamoto Tamako straightened up, her soft body pressing against his abdomen, finally letting him feel the weight of her heart-shaped hips.

"Alright."

Fushimi Roku relented, "You can cuff me."

Minamoto Tamako clearly had a plan. She bent down, picking up a coil of hemp rope from the bedside. Fushimi Roku didn’t know why this was in his house, nor when Minamoto Tamako had procured it and for what purpose.

He had a bad feeling, but to achieve his goal, he watched Minamoto Tamako tie up his other hand...and then his ankles.

About ten minutes later, he lay in a ’big’ shape on the bed, unable to move.

Minamoto Tamako hadn’t changed out of her work clothes, still in a white shirt and black dress pants. To tie up Fushimi Roku, she rolled up her sleeves and walked around barefoot.

After wrapping it up, she cracked open a can of beer, chugging it down to celebrate.

"So," Fushimi Roku raised his head to ask, "are you sure you want to confess in this state?"

Minamoto Tamako wiped her mouth, her chin still frothy from the beer. She laughed heartily like a Liangshan outlaw who’d bound a fair maiden, leaping onto the bed, pants halfway off, "Silly, as if!"

Fushimi Roku was shocked and immediately questioned Minamoto Tamako, "Didn’t you say you were going to tell me a ’big secret’?"

"That’s true."

As she spoke, Minamoto Tamako removed her pants.

Fushimi Roku wanted to feign being a gentleman—for instance, looking away and sneaking glimpses in the mirror, which would’ve made him seem unaffected.

But now, tied up in bed, he was far from gentlemanly, more like someone who uses a safe word in private circles. There was no point caring about dignity, so he simply widened his eyes and watched intently.