When Yoko regained consciousness she was in a room underground with no windows and the only exit was a steel door which she couldn't reach because she was strapped to a wire cot. There was a bucket in one corner for bodily functions, but Yoko could smell that it was empty. She looked down at her bindings, a pair of heavy, coarse ropes wrapped four times around her, one securing her arms and torso, the other her legs. She was naked. Fingertips grazed Yoko's cheek, smoothing the hair away from her face. The hand was soft, impossibly delicate. A pair of lips from a tiny mouth kissed her forehead. Then one cheek, then the other, then made contact with Yoko's own lips. "I was watching you as you slept," Sakura said. "You're very beautiful when you sleep, you know that?" Lazarus had told her that once. Yoko assumed that was a lie, just like everything else he said. She made no reply. Sakura moved from the head of the cot to Yoko's side. The girl sat there primly, smiling at Yoko, but not so much as to make her seem malevolent, just a subtle smile playing across those tiny red lips. Yoko noticed for the first time how cute she was. One of Sakura's fingertips, an index, swirled across the skin of Yoko's stomach, traced the outlines of the ropes. The smile took on a note of lasciviousness. "I love your skin," Sakura said. "I have this fantasy sometimes where I'm bathing you with my tongue; every single millimetre, from the flesh between your thighs to that nameless spot behind your ear." She leaned over and kissed Yoko's stomach, once lightly, then again, tasting the milky smoothness of her flesh. Her little red tongue appeared and drew a figure-eight, which from Yoko's point of view would have been the symbol for infinity. A pair of Sakura's fingers glides across the rows of cord, to Yoko's exposed right breast. She spiralled one around counter-clockwise around the aureole, making Yoko shudder. Sakura did the same with the other breast, never quite touching the nipple, until they were both erect. Then Sakura's hot mouth enveloped the left one and Yoko couldn't help but gasp as Sakura's tongue swirled and flicked the nipple back and forth inside her mouth. It had been so long since Yoko had had contact, and not just the embrace of death which had become more than a routine than an act of pleasure, but real contact with another person who wanted Yoko as much as she wanted her back. Did Yoko want Sakura? The thought stuck in her head and refused to go away. Then Sakura put one knee on the cot beside Yoko, and placed the second knee against Yoko's other hip. Sakura leaned down and kissed Yoko. Deeply. Slowly. Yoko felt the girl's hand flutter along her stomach. A finger grazed her labia. Into Yoko's ear Sakura whispered: "You're moist." She kissed her again on the cheek, which by this time was flushed with desire. Then Sakura pulled her white dress up and over her head, and she set it aside. She was wearing neither a bra nor panties. The nipples on her miniature breasts pointed outward. Her pubic hair, shaved underneath, stuck out in a little black tuft. The daggers were still strapped to her thighs. She drew both of them simultaneously, her black eyes never leaving Yoko's, and the blades cut effortlessly through the ropes, one by one. When it was over, Sakura slid the knives back into place, threw the ropes on the floor, and embraced Yoko, covering her in kisses. Yoko kissed her back, rolled over ninety degrees so they were both on their side, and wrapped her arms around her new lover. When Yoko opened her eyes, Sakura was asleep. She slept with her buttocks against the top of Yoko's thighs, curled up against her stomach, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Yoko kissed Sakura's shoulder, entwined their fingers. Sakura smiled in her sleep and shifted closer to Yoko. Yoko ran her fingers down the side of Sakura's stomach, touched the flesh of her thigh. Yoko had never met someone with skin as white as hers, but they could have been two pieces cut from the same .alabaster. Yoko's fingertip slid across Sakura's smooth buttock. Sakura let out a small groan and turned toward Yoko. Their lips locked, tongues explored each other's mouths, their arms and legs intertwined. Yoko let her hands roam Sakura's body from her shoulders to her ankles and back. "I don't ever want to be alone again," Yoko whispered, her lips against Sakura's ear. "You'll never ever have to be," Sakura replied. She kissed Yoko once, twice, then gazed into her eyes. Yoko could see herself reflected in those globes of night. Sakura shifted onto her back, moved underneath Yoko's body. Yoko pressed herself against her, so that her clitoris could grind against Sakura's. She worked her pelvis slowly at first, then built up momentum, creating friction, all those nerve endings stimulated at once, until Sakura's breath drew in in deep gasps, then shuddered as she exhaled. Yoko kissed Sakura on the neck, then moved down to her breasts, tasting the nipples, then continued down to her stomach. Yoko placed one hand on each of Sakura's legs and moved her palms upward along the flesh, sending blood up to her sex. Sakura's hands reached down and removed the daggers from their sheaths. Then she traced a line down each of her thighs so that ruby red richness revealed itself and ran down in rivulets. Sakura put the knives away. Yoko licked away the blood before it touched anything else but her tongue and Sakura's thighs. Then yoko ran the tip of her tongue along Sakura's pussy, mixing blood and cyprine. The taste of the two fluids intermingling was divine, but when Yoko's tongue tasted the warm inner wetness of Sakura's mouth, Yoko knew she was in love.