UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 03

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 04: UNFINISHED AFFAIRS
BY BOB WILLIAMS
ASSISTED BY MEGUMI, CHIYOKO, HANAKO, SAMMY, HIROKO, 
NATSUKO, SACHI, MAKI, YUKI AND AYAKO

PART 03

CHAPTER III 

After the Party 

     And of course I took her home with me. And when 
     she had slipped off her coat and was nude again I 
     took her straight to my private locked and 
     sound-proofed room ...

The nine slim black lashes of the cat decorated her 
pretty bottom again and again. I could see by the 
clock on the wall that I had been whipping her for 
forty minutes now. I was enjoying it: the regular 
exercise was agreeable and I found much aesthetic 
pleasure in the random patterns of the lashes on her 
pale gold skin, now blushing slightly pink from the 
stimulation I was giving her. And of course it was, as 
always, a special joy to be introducing a sweet young 
girl to one of the greatest delights sex has to offer. 
She was more than ready for it: the look in her eyes 
when she first saw the equipment waiting for her in 
the specially fitted-out room, and her longing to be 
tied to it at once, had told me that. I made her wait 
a while nevertheless, taking her over to the table 
where I displayed the instruments and showing them to 
her, so that she knew something of what she had to 
look forward to. 

Now she was bound to the metal bars, and her naked 
body squirmed and quivered under the lashes. Her 
wrists were firmly fixed to the chains hidden in the 
vertical bars, and I had pulled them so high that only 
the very tips of the toes of her gold high-heeled 
sandals were in touch with the floor. I had tied her 
ankles only loosely, so that she could dance prettily 
for me as her body swayed under the strokes of the 
cat. In later sessions we would add further 
refinements. She would learn how even her pretty 
figure could be enhanced by a tightly laced corset, 
and appreciate the sexual excitement of slight 
breathlessness; her young breasts, still firm and not 
yet fully grown, would enjoy the luscious bite of 
cruel nipple-clamps; and one day she would be 
introduced to the thrill of the rope and the feathery 
drops of burning wax falling on her helpless flesh as 
she learned the subtle delights of the candle-wax 
torture. 

I had warned her I would not stop until I had made her 
scream. She was tossing her head from side to side, 
her long hair streaming damply down her back and 
blending with the tangled pattern of the lashes 
caressing her bottom. She was bravely keeping her lips 
tightly closed, moaning wordlessly but still letting 
out no sound that could be described as a scream. I 
love it when girls pit their courage against my 
strength. I win in the end but admire and respect them 
for making it difficult for me. To begin with she had 
sobbed and implored me to stop - not to hurt her: but 
I had paid no attention and I knew enough to guess she 
was now grateful to me. I never give my girls safe 
words or any of that egalitarian nonsense. When a girl 
voluntarily enters my secret room, her submission must 
be total. It is my job to decide if she is in real 
trouble, or is just begging me to stop because she has 
not yet learnt how to use the pain as a trigger for 
intense pleasure - or is trying to stimulate me by 
pretending to want me to stop when in fact she is 
loving every moment of what I am doing to her. Of 
course this delightful uncertainty is wonderfully 
arousing - as I guessed she knew very well, the pretty 
little flirt! Swish ... swish ... I was whipping her 
harder than ever. Anyone walking in unexpectedly would 
have thought that I was the dominant partner. But in 
fact, with her pretty whimpering and wriggling she was 
controlling and directing me. She could not stop 
herself responding to each stroke of the cat by 
leaning into it, welcoming it and begging for more. I 
adore it when girls take over like that, and make me 
just an instrument of their desire. 

Where was she now? Was she already floating in that 
other-worldly paradise which experienced girls can 
find through the whip, the longing for which drags 
them back to their lovers again and again begging for 
ever more painful punishment? Or was she secretly 
still trying to come to terms with a new and 
paradoxical source of orgasm? 

I knew it was all fresh to her because she had told me 
so. As we lay together on our host's lawn, petting 
each other and talking over the beautiful sex we had 
just enjoyed, her face and breasts still prettily 
decorated with streaks of my cum, she agreed readily 
enough to leave the party with me and spend the night 
at my apartment - apparently she and her 
school-friends had set up a network to provide alibis 
if their mothers rang to ask where they were. And then 
I asked her, very gently and tentatively, if she had 
ever experienced the sexual pleasures of the whip. She 
looked at me with wide-eyed astonishment and my heart 
began to beat fast as she admitted she was still in 
that respect a virgin. 

I asked about her school experiences. Yes, she said, 
there had been a physical education master about two 
years earlier who had often walloped the girls on the 
dark blue knickers of their gym uniforms when he 
wasn't satisfied they were trying hard enough. Once 
she and a few others had been ordered to take their 
knickers right down and lean over the horse as he 
whipped their naked bottoms in turn with a long 
plaited rope. She had been so indignant at the 
injustice - she knew she had been trying her very best 
to do what he told her - that she had hardly felt the 
pain; and afterwards had been surprised to find that 
her bottom and thighs and pussy were tingling in an 
exciting way she had never known before. Stroking 
herself in bed that night - she had already learnt to 
do that, exchanging masturbation tips with her best 
friends - and recalling what had been done to her, she 
had suddenly been overwhelmed with pleasure. She had 
given herself orgasms in bed before, but never 
dreaming of a real partner and a real experience. She 
had been looking forward so much to her next gym 
class, wondering how best to ensure that he whipped 
her again, but he suddenly left the school. She 
supposed some of the girls - perhaps a few had been 
jealous at not being chosen for the whipping - had 
told their parents about his sadistic tastes. 

I began to understand how very, very lucky I was. A 
girl whose first real orgasm is brought about by the 
experience of pain is from that moment onwards 
helplessly addicted to the whip whether she knows it 
or not. She will of course enjoy other forms of sex 
too. But the link between pain and the most intense 
pleasure has been made and the only question is how 
long she can go on ignoring it, or denying it. 
Chiyoko, I thought, was now on the brink of 
recognising the truth about her sexuality, and of 
inviting me to reinforce it. It made me humble to 
think of the happiness it was my job to give her - and 
of all the joy she would give her future lovers, 
begging them on her knees to grant her endless 
delicious torment. 

"Wouldn't you like to have those lovely feelings 
again?" I asked her gently. 

"Yes - oh, _yes_, please!" she said at once; and then, 
"but you won't hurt me, will you?" 

"Well, I'll have to hurt you a bit," I said carefully, 
"but only to begin with. You'll be brave, won't you? - 
because once that's over you'll enjoy it so much." 

I would start gently, of course; but before long I 
would be taking her to the heights of exquisite agony 
while she implored me to hurt her more and more. 

"You mean, it will be like the first time I had real 
sex?" 

"Yes, rather like that." 

"Then, yes, I'd love that. If _you_ do it to me. 
Please." 

I held her deliciously naked body. To my surprise, she 
was shivering despite the warmth of the evening. 

"You're not cold, are you?" 

"Oh, no. It's just that I'm trembling a bit at the 
thought of what you're going to do to me." 

"Are you sure you want me to do it?" 

"Oh _yes_! Don't _you_ want to do it?" 

"I'm longing to. I adore whipping girls. Especially 
when I find a girl like you, ready for her first time. 
Teaching her to adore it too." 

She snuggled against me. My hands could feel the 
sensitive skin of her bottom still quivering with 
excitement. She was ready. She had been ready ever 
since that gym class years before. Tonight I would 
show her all she had been missing since then. And then 
she would implore me to help her make up for lost time 
and recover all the happiness she had lost. I kissed 
her softly. 

"Ready, darling?" 

"Oh, _yes_. Please." 

We stood up. She looked at me seriously, the cum 
decorating her face glistening in the garden lights. 

"I _want_ you to do it to me - whatever it is," she 
said. "I mean it. If later I change my mind and tell 
you not to ... or ask you to stop ... will you please 
pay no attention? Promise?" 

I promised. I found my clothes, she wiped her face and 
breasts and slipped a short coat over her nakedness, 
and we left. 

That had been over an hour ago. As I increased the 
intensity of the whipping, bringing the cat's lashes 
down onto her deliciously pink bottom with all my 
strength, I began to fantasise about Chiyoko, 
imagining what it would be like to be married to her. 
In fact I had no intention of marrying anyone: why 
should I, when Japan was full of sweet teenaged girls 
eager to do everything I wanted? But one day I might 
end up married nonetheless, just so as to experience 
the pleasures of a Japanese honeymoon. I imagined a 
young girl on her knees on our first night, wearing 
only the veil, shoes and lacy gloves of her 
wedding-dress, promising to be my slave for ever and 
imploring me to use her for my pleasure, the crueller 
and more perverted the better. I saw her shyly 
producing from her trousseau the whips she had 
secretly bought for our mutual delight, knowing that 
the stiff, creaking leather would be pitilessly broken 
in on her soft flesh over the weeks to come. In the 
old days a Japanese girl brought her virginity and 
innocence, and perhaps a dowry, to her husband. Now 
her gift to him was experience in every area of sex: 
not presented blatantly as a Western girl would do, 
but disguised as innocence, a delicate challenge to 
him to try her out and explore her sexuality to its 
limits. Chiyoko would make a lovely bride for someone 
when I had finished with her. 

My arm was getting tired now, and I would soon be in 
need of sexual relief. I stopped whipping her and 
walked over to the table to find something stronger 
which might precipitate her crisis. She began to 
whimper at my neglect, begging me to continue: I 
guessed that she had indeed begun to learn how to fly, 
the whip keeping her spinning like a top. I chose a 
shiny plaited bull-whip and returned to my work, 
taking care not to let her see it. The long lash 
reached out and lovingly embraced her hips. Her first 
reaction was stunned silence, standing rigid in her 
bonds. Then, as her body adapted to the fierce new 
sensation, she began to moan at a higher pitch than I 
had yet heard from her. It got louder and higher with 
each stroke of the whip, till at last it was the sound 
I love to hear: a girl screaming with mingled agony 
and joy under my attentions. The long whip whistled 
round her as I began to lash her with all my strength. 
After another twenty strokes or so, as hard as I could 
make them, I dropped the whip, stood in front of her 
to undo her bonds, and let her fall into my arms. 

I carried her over to the narrow couch which stood in 
one corner of the chamber. She protested a little as I 
placed her on her back, the rough sheet inflaming the 
delicate skin of her bottom, so I quickly turned her 
onto her front, pushing her knees up under her chest. 
Her bottom was an enchanting petunia colour, and had 
my lust for her been less overwhelming I would have 
started whipping her again. That was what she wanted 
too, I am sure; but we had the rest of the night and 
all the next day for that. I thought with pleasure of 
the other instruments of torture waiting patiently to 
be introduced to her eager body, and the more 
sophisticated forms of whipping to be explored 
together. My ideal is a girl not only addicted to 
pain, but addicted specifically to the way I 
administer it. 

I climbed onto the couch behind her and without 
preliminaries thrust my erection into her soaking 
cunt. A few strokes in and out left my cock well 
coated with her bubbling juice. I pulled out, ignoring 
her protests; and, my hands holding her hot buttocks 
apart, began to push my way into her tiny arsehole. 
Her anus gripped me tightly: she already knew that was 
the way to please her lovers and keep them coming back 
for more. But they had never experienced the heavenly 
feeling of plunging their cocks into the fiery heat of 
her arse after an hour of expert whipping. I was the 
first to do that. I had never felt such mingled love 
and lust for a girl's anus. 

At last she was in my arms again, lasciviously rubbing 
her bottom against the sheet. 

"Please hurt me more," she said softly. 

"Much more?" 

"Much, _much_ more. I am your prisoner. Your slave. 
Your helpless victim. Whip me - oh, whip me hard, 
_hard_, as hard as you can! Oh, _please_! Tie me up 
and never let me go. Do whatever you want to me, but 
never, never stop hurting me - loving me, I mean." 

"Sure?" 

"Sure. I belong here, in your torture-chamber. For 
ever and ever. That's what I am for. Now I know. Thank 
you. Thank you so much for teaching me." 

She stood up, took my hands and pulled me up to join 
her. 

"Now do it to me again. More." 


[Next in Part 04: Chapter IV: Chiyoko: The Show: A 
Dream of the Future]

For complete series so far see 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Bob_Williams