UNFINISHED AFFAIRS 13

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 13

CHAPTER XIII

Training Session

     Perhaps you remember Chiyoko. I met her at a 
     sex-party when she was still very young, took her 
     home and had the pleasure of introducing her to 
     the whip. She adored it. Perhaps that changed her 
     life, because she became one of the very rare 
     girls in the sex industry whose sensuality is so 
     finely developed that they are asked for by 
     wealthy patrons with very special tastes, 
     planning very special events. An editor pressed 
     me to write what I knew of this area of the sex 
     industry - but of course I couldn't. I should 
     never have been forgiven for betraying 
     confidences. But Chiyoko was willing to describe 
     how I helped her reach the height of sensuality 
     and the pinnacle of her profession. I only wish I 
     deserved her admiring description! 

"I have some new equipment to show you," said Bob. 

"Oooh, lovely!" I said. "You always have such 
wonderful ideas." 

"Yes, I think you'll enjoy this. I'll certainly enjoy 
watching you suffer in it." 

"Is it very special?" 

"Oh, yes. It's rather old fashioned, but I think the 
old torture-masters had the best ideas. Anyway, your 
session begins now." 

I scrambled obediently out of the sofa where I had 
been lying casually across his lap, and stood 
respectfully before him, my head bowed, my hands 
folded over my naked crotch. 

"Your slave awaits her Master's orders," I said in a 
little-girl voice. 

I've known Bob for a long while - since I met him at 
one of my first sex-parties, in fact - and we've had a 
lot of fun together. But recently I have started 
coming to him for regular bondage and torture sessions 
- officially for an hour at a time, but sometimes 
going on longer if we are enjoying ourselves too much 
to stop. Together we are developing my sensuality 
towards appreciation of the finer aspects of pain. Of 
course I have always liked being whipped - ever since 
a schoolmaster first caned me for misbehaviour. Most 
Japanese girls discover the sexual possibilities of 
pain and submission that way. But ability to respond 
with true ecstasy to extreme stimuli applied to my 
helpless nudity would add to my value as I climbed the 
ladder of the sex industry. Stripping, acting in fuck 
videos, public nudity and sex in clubs - all these 
were lovely and moderately well paid. But the really 
top jobs, the jobs I aspired to, were reserved for 
girls requested for private and very discreet parties. 
There a girl would be helplessly bound and tortured 
expertly to the ultimate extreme of orgasm, before 
rewarding her lovers with her own refined sexual 
skills. From that pinnacle of the profession - and of 
sexual gratification - a girl could, if all went well, 
retire as the chief mistress of a wealthy man whose 
expert sadism matched her perfectly trained masochism. 
Then, as the old tales say, she would live happily 
ever after, satisfying him and any of his friends he 
chose to lend her to. 

It is one thing to adore being whipped: as I say, most 
Japanese girls do. It is another to submit, with a 
carefully crafted mixture of modesty and desire, to 
the most sophisticated stimuli invented by great 
masters, encouraging and thanking one's torturers with 
apparently reluctant sexual response and shy desire 
for yet more torment. For a _gaijin_, Bob understood 
this very well; and we had arranged that I would come 
to him for training every Friday evening. 

We always started with some friendly flirting: I would 
strip naked of course, wearing only the high stiletto 
heels I knew he loved and perhaps some body jewellery, 
and we would pet and stroke each other as I told him 
about some of the more extreme fun things that had 
been done to me since we had last met, and he 
described his latest girls. Sometimes I would lie on 
the sofa and masturbate for him: of course all girls 
enjoy masturbating and take it for granted as a normal 
part of their daily sex routine, but not all realise 
how pretty it looks and how much men enjoy watching us 
do it! Then, suddenly, he would give me the signal 
that the serious work of the evening had begun and I 
would respond with one of the submissive replies he 
had taught me. 

"You know where to go then," he said abruptly. 

"Yes, Master," I said as I walked - trying not to show 
my eagerness - towards the room he had equipped as a 
torture-chamber. 

He had given me the code for the push-button lock, so 
I could enter on my own. Inside, I flipped on the 
lights and the elaborate array of spots which would 
soon be bathing my helpless body. I looked around for 
the new equipment he had promised me. The big 
whipping-frame, with its dangling ropes and chains, 
which I loved so much had been moved to one side. The 
door opened again and Bob entered. 

"Your usual place," he instructed me. 

Obediently I stood in the centre of the room where the 
whipping-frame had been. 

"Now here," he went on, "is the new instrument." 

From the corner of the room he pulled out a long, flat 
steel bar about one-and-a-half metres long. He showed 
me that it was in fact two bars joined together by a 
hinge at one end and a lock at the other. In three 
places the metal was curved into complete circles: 
small circles at each end and a large one in the 
centre. I did not need to be told what it was for. I 
raised my hands to the level of my head, and Master 
opened the hinged bar then closed it again, so that my 
neck fitted snugly into the central ring and my wrists 
into the two smaller ones. The sound of a strong 
padlock clicking shut sent a tingle of anticipation 
through me. Being helplessly locked into some cruel 
device, condemned to accept whatever thrilling 
tortures are in store, always makes me shiver with 
delight. 

Though the curved areas which encircled my neck and 
wrists were padded with soft leather and felt very 
comfortable, the bar as a whole was heavy and I had 
difficulty holding it steady over my shoulders. But 
Master had thought about that. He lowered chains from 
the ceiling and clipped them to hooks on the bar's 
upper edge. Then the chains rose again until I was 
standing upright, balanced firmly on my high heels and 
my head upright above the ring which held my neck. 

"How does that feel?" 

"Lovely," I said softly. "And so _right_ ..." 

I meant that being held helplessly, in a metal cage 
from which there was no possible escape, naked and 
exposed to every sadistic whim of a cruel master, was 
the perfect experience, the way above all I longed to 
be. 

Much as I adored being locked into my Master's 
whipping-frame, I had to admit this new device was 
superior in one respect: it held me firmly without the 
need for uprights to get in the way of whatever my 
Master planned to do to me. He was standing behind me 
now, and his hands reached for my breasts, squeezing 
them and pinching the nipples before moving down to 
stroke my stomach and explore between my open legs. 
Then I could feel him stroking and lightly slapping my 
bottom. He grabbed my buttocks firmly and pulled them 
apart, exposing my anus. I whimpered with pleasure. 
Suddenly he was kneeling behind me and his tongue 
began to explore my arse-hole. I thanked him 
incoherently and begged him not to stop, but the 
beautiful reaming did not last long. Master was 
standing again now, and suddenly I felt the middle 
finger of one hand entering my lubricated anus as his 
other hand gripped my bottom painfully. 

"Please don't hurt me," I said in a breathy, 
little-girl voice as his finger forced its way further 
up my arse. 

Of course I didn't mean it and he knew it. There was 
nothing I wanted more than to be subjected to whatever 
pain my Master had in store for me. But he had taught 
me that it stimulates a lover if his victim plays the 
game of resisting the feelings he is giving her - at 
least until they reach a pitch when she can pretend no 
longer and must accept them eagerly, her pleas for 
mercy turning into entreaties for more. 

The finger withdrew and I heard my Master moving away 
behind me. There was the sexy clink of chains and 
metal. Then he was kneeling in front of me: obediently 
I moved my feet apart as he fixed a stretcher bar to 
my ankles. Satisfied, he stood up. 

"A little decoration next, I think," he said. 

"Oh yes, please, Master," I said. "Make me beautiful - 
so that I please you. And your guests," I added after 
a moment, dreaming of being the lust-object of a 
carefully selected group of expert sadists. 

"It will hurt, of course." 

I swallowed, then said, "I am your slave, Master. 
Please do to me whatever you wish." 

He moved away for a moment; then returned, as I had 
hoped, with a pair of nipple-clamps. My nipples were 
already yearning for their steel embrace, but he 
teased them into even harder erection before fitting 
the little discs over them. He twisted them at first 
to only a low setting, just enough to keep them in 
place; then stood behind me, his hands reaching round 
me as he delicately adjusted the mechanism. Gradually 
the exquisite pain increased as the control knobs on 
the little discs clicked round, till it was almost 
unbearable. My mind was flooded with the sensation, my 
experienced pleasure-centre blending it gloriously 
with my ever-present sexual lust, channelling it back 
to my body, making my breasts quiver with desire and 
my pussy drip love-juice. I knew these exquisite 
little instruments of torture well: my Master had used 
them often, sometimes instructing me to wear them 
under my dress or blouse when we were out together - 
the only underwear he ever permitted on our 
expeditions round Tokyo. There was more pain to come: 
perhaps two more clicks, I calculated. There was no 
way I could wear the clamps secretly in public like 
_that_: at the highest setting it was impossible not 
to scream out loud with ecstatic agony. It was part of 
my Master's sadism to withhold that final level of 
bliss. How I adored him and his exquisite cruelty![21] 

"Very nice," I heard him say. "You like them?" 

Of course I did! But I could not reply: I could only 
look at him imploringly. 

"Now a little treat for your pretty pussy," he said. 

What would it be? One of the steel-jawed clips which 
bit lusciously into my clit? No, he was bringing a big 
egg-shaped vibrator. It slid easily into my wet cunt, 
and I gripped it tight with my muscles. It began to 
send delicious spasms of pleasure to mingle with the 
agony radiating from my breasts. 

"And I think your arse is feeling a little neglected, 
don't you?" 

I couldn't see what he was doing, but I didn't need 
to: eight or ten anal beads on a string were being 
inserted one by one into my narrow passage, still 
throbbing and itching from the deep penetration of his 
finger. The beads were old friends too: on Master's 
instructions I had worn them at sex-parties, giving a 
chosen partner a lovely surprise as I coyly asked him 
to withdraw them one by one before replacing them with 
his own erect cock. In a way I was always sorry to 
feel them go: the heavy steel balls loose inside each 
round shell vibrated delightfully at my every 
movement. I wriggled my bottom slightly: yes, the 
magic feeling was there, and as enjoyable as ever. 

"Now, let me look at you." My Master walked slowly 
round my tense body. "Yes, very nice. Very tempting. I 
think you deserve a little more ..." 

His fingers reached round from behind again, and 
increased the agony of the nipple-clamps by just one 
click. I stammered out my thanks. I already felt 
almost at the height of heavenly pain-pleasure. But I 
knew there was more to come - much more. 

"Right, now it's time for some real hard work, don't 
you think?" my Master was saying. Lost somewhere in 
the early stages of private bliss, I was hardly paying 
attention and was on the point of agreeing happily to 
whatever he had in mind. But then I came part of the 
way back to earth. I remembered my training, and how 
delightfully stimulating it is for a man to hear his 
victim begging piteously for mercy. It was time to 
show my new acting skills. 

"Oh, _please_ don't hurt me!" I begged, looking at my 
Master, my eyes sparkling with tears. "Ah, you are 
_so_ cruel to me! What have I done to deserve being 
tortured like this?" 

Of course I knew very well that when my time at last 
came to be handed over defenceless to specialists in 
sadism in search of an evening's refined pleasure, to 
praise their cruelty would be a great compliment, 
driving us all to ever greater heights of exquisite 
mutual pleasure - and what I had done to merit such 
happiness would indeed be a question I could not 
answer. Unless of course the Japanese female qualities 
of sincerity, hard work and submission to the wishes 
of others deserved to be rewarded so beautifully. 

My Master was dangling something in front of my eyes. 
It was a long cat-o'-nine-tails - really a cat of 
_many_ tails for there were far more than nine, each 
exquisite strand a couple of metres of thin whipcord 
decorated along its length with hard cruel knots. It 
rustled sexily as my Master shook it. How I wanted to 
feel it swish round my trembling hips and breasts and 
thighs! 

"Oh, _please_!" I begged. "Don't! don't! It hurts _so_ 
much! I can't bear it!" 

"But you'll have to, won't you?" said my Master with a 
cruel smile. 

He took up position on my left and, just to start 
with, teased me by letting the beautiful lashes tickle 
me lightly. Then at last they embraced me with all his 
strength behind them, twisting round my waist and arse 
several times, every tight little knot stinging my 
skin, before at last falling to the floor, their power 
exhausted. Again. And again. I was shaken from side to 
side, swaying in the steel bar which held me steady. 
The heavy metal balls hidden in my beads tickled and 
pleasured my anal passage; the humming of the vibrator 
in my cunt and the agony of the nipple-clamps all 
added to a continuum of extreme sensation. There was 
no point any more in pretending to resist: as each 
glorious kiss of the whip raised me closer to total 
bliss I opened my mouth and screamed in joy and 
happiness. 

At last it stopped, leaving me at the very gates of 
heaven. I begged and implored, but part of my Master's 
sadism is knowing how to torment me by stopping when I 
most want more. 

"Good, slave; very good," I heard him say. "A little 
reward for you." 

His fingers again reached for my breasts and prepared 
to adjust my nipple-clamps. At the last second I 
prepared myself for what I knew was about to happen. 
As he twisted the little knobs the final click, tiny 
needles hidden within the mechanism plunged white-hot 
into my nipples. I abandoned all restraint and 
surrendered to the ultimate flow of blissful agony. I 
screamed and screamed as the gates of heaven opened at 
last and welcomed me to the ecstasy of total, endless 
orgasm. 

== 

When I at last came back to earth, I was lying on my 
back. The thick carpet was comfortable and tickled my 
well-whipped bottom and thighs agreeably. My lovely 
nipple-clamps had been removed and so had the vibrator 
in my cunt, but my anal beads were still where they 
belonged and my neck and wrists were still locked into 
the steel bar. My Master was sitting in a chair 
watching me with a kindly smile on his face. 

"How do you feel, darling?" he asked. 

I noticed he did not call me "slave": that must mean 
our training session was finished. 

"Wonderful," I said, wriggling my bottom against the 
carpet and enjoying both the stimulation of my tender 
skin and the vibration of the balls in my anal 
passage. "The best I've ever had ... oh, I don't know 
how to describe it ..." 

"Try." 

"Well, like being fucked non-stop by the most expert 
lover ... brought to endless glorious orgasm ..." 

"Good." 

"May I have something to drink?" 

"Of course." 

He brought me a can of the slightly salty water that 
athletes use to replace minerals lost in sweat, raised 
me carefully to a sitting position and held the can to 
my lips as I swallowed. 

"Can you stand up for a while?" he asked as I 
finished. 

"I think so. If you help me." 

He held me below the steel bar and under my knees, and 
gradually I found myself on my feet again. When I was 
steady on my heels he left me for a moment; then 
returned with something I recognised. 

"I'd like to see you in a corset now." 

"Oh, _yes_! Yes please! Especially that one." 

It was indeed one of my favourites. It was in shiny red 
material but buried inside the fabric were steel bands 
specially shaped to squeeze and bind me into an 
impossibly perfect shape: it created a tiny waist and, 
although of course it left my breasts and arse 
uncovered, the contrast with my waist somehow made them 
bigger and firmer. My Master sometimes dressed me in it 
for parties: I loved wearing it and especially loved 
being whipped in it. Was that what he had in mind for 
me? 

The cruel steel hoops hidden in the soft material took 
my breath away as he fitted them round me, then 
tightened the bonds further and further till at last 
the corset met fully round my waist and the hoops 
clicked shut. Only my Master's special key could open 
them again. He wheeled up a mirror so that I could see 
myself. 

"I don't think those shoes really go with that corset, 
do you? Wait here and I'll fetch something else." 

Well, obviously I wasn't going anywhere. He made for 
the door, hesitated, saw the trouble I was having 
keeping my steel bar steady over my shoulders, and came 
back to attach the dangling chains again. Then he left 
me alone, with nothing to do but enjoy my own beauty in 
the big mirror. Oh, if I were a man, how I would want 
to whip and torture that girl and then enter her in all 
her holes! And how lovely it is to be a girl, designed 
by the Gods to be beautiful and desirable to men so 
that, just by taking care to look her best, she can 
tease and provoke them till they do such heavenly 
things to her! 

My Master returned. He was carrying a pair of knee-high 
boots in red leather. As always his taste was perfect. 
I had worn the boots with this corset before, and 
remembered the effect they had - both on my lovers and 
on me. He knelt in front of me and gently removed my 
black stilettos. Then he eased my feet into the red 
boots: the heels were a centimetre higher and the soft 
leather enclosing my feet was delightfully tight - not 
uncomfortable, just giving a delicious sensation of 
helpless imprisonment. He pulled the long laces firmly 
round the rows of hooks and tied them. I danced a 
little and admired myself again in the mirror. My 
Master kindly wheeled up a second mirror and moved it 
to and fro behind me so that I could enjoy the rear 
view as well. How perfect my figure was with its 
artificially tiny waist; how pretty my little feet were 
perched on the high heels of their constricting boots; 
how proudly my breasts and arse stood out, begging for 
the whip! 

"Oh, _please_ torture me again!" I begged. "I want it 
_so_ much!" 

"What would you like?" he said teasingly. 

"May I really choose?" 

"No, but just tell me what you'd choose if I let you." 

"Oh ... to be whipped ... caned - you haven't done that 
to me yet today! Lovely candle-wax torture. Chained up 
... suspended ... and then taken in all three holes by 
an endless series of men. Drenched in cum. And all the 
while wearing this heavenly corset and these lovely 
tight boots. And my nipple-clamps, of course - at the 
highest setting! Can I have all that?" 

"No - but I'll try and arrange it for you at the next 
party I take you to. You can be looking forward to 
it." 

"Oh, thank you! You are so good to me!" 

"But now I want you lying down again. I told you I had 
some new equipment, and there's more to come." 

So he disconnected me from the ceiling chains and I lay 
down carefully on the carpet again, pleasantly 
frightened as I tried to imagine what was to happen to 
me next. Suddenly I felt the area of carpet I was lying 
on rising till it was about eighty centimetres above 
the rest of the floor and I was exposed on a platform. 
There were clearly anchor-points for bondage ropes and 
chains along the sides of the platform: my Master tied 
ropes to my thighs and ankles and fixed them firmly so 
that I could hardly move my legs and hips. 

"Ready?" he asked, smiling down at me. 

"Oh, yes! For anything!" 

From beyond my feet I could hear something heavy being 
wheeled up over the carpet. Master came round and 
lifted my shoulders a little so that I could see what 
it was. A long shaft with a huge dildo at its tip was 
pointing towards me from a metal box. 

"Can you see what that is for?" 

"Yes!" 

"Are you prepared to be fucked by a monster like that? 
Raped endlessly by a machine?" 

"Yes! _Yes_!" 

He laid me back on the floor again. He disconnected the 
dildo from its drive shaft and brought it for me to 
examine. It was really big: made of firm but slightly 
flexible plastic. I kissed it lovingly while he held it 
for me. As he turned it before my eyes I saw that there 
was a row of firm ridges on its upper surface. How 
beautiful they would feel rubbing endlessly against the 
root of my clit![22] 

Master moved away again and I heard the dildo click 
back into place on the machine's shaft. Suddenly I felt 
its tip delicately touching the lips of my pussy. It 
probed, entered, and was finally deep inside me. Even 
though it was motionless I felt my juices gathering and 
the first stages of orgasm building. 

"Now, this machine does two things at once," my Master 
explained. "It fucks you, of course. At different 
depths and speeds." He demonstrated. "And it gives you 
electric stimulation. At different frequencies and 
strengths." He demonstrated. "Do you like it?" 

"I adore it!" 

"And of course it never, _ever_, gets tired. Do you 
think you'll get tired?" 

"No! Never, _never_!" 

"Is that a promise?" 

"Of course!" 

My Master may not have realised it - of course he 
wasn't brought up in Japan - but the thought of being 
helplessly bound into a fucking-machine or sci-fi 
monster that never, _ever_ gets tired is a favourite 
masturbation fantasy of young girls, often described in 
sex _manga_ or cartoon magazines meant for teenagers. I 
had sent myself to sleep so often dreaming of it. And 
now it was at last to come true! 

"So I shall set both the fucking and the electric 
shocks to 'random'. I think that will be fun for us 
both, don't you? For you, of course, and for me to 
watch." 

He pressed some buttons, and at once my wonderful 
machine-monster-lover began to take me to heaven. In my 
fantasy the metal hoops of my corset, the steel bar 
holding my neck and wrists, and the tight bonds of my 
boots became the tentacles of the monster as he gripped 
me and forced me to submit to his sexual probing. But 
only for a while. All too soon the machine reduced its 
motions to little more than a standby humming. 

"That was very pretty," my Master was saying. "I think 
we can improve on it, though." 

Suddenly I felt sharp clips being attached to my 
nipples. I was able to look downwards just enough to 
see that there were wires attached to the metal jaws 
biting into my breasts. Then another clip was attached 
to my erect clitoris, just above the glorious dildo 
resting motionless in my cunt. I hoped there were wires 
attached to that one too - surely there must be! 

"A little demonstration," said my Master. 

Random bursts of electrical stimulation tormented me, 
making me shiver with the thrill of it. I screamed 
helplessly, joyously. 

"Being helpless is part of the fun, don't you think?" 

Suddenly his hands were over my face, forcing a ball 
gag into my mouth and fixing the leather straps round 
the back of my head. And then everything went dark as 
he completed his arrangements by tying a mask over my 
eyes. 

The penetration and stimulation of the dildo began 
again, but only lightly. Delicate electric shocks 
teased my clit and nipples. But surely the machine 
could do more than that? I tried to beg my Master to 
increase the level of my pleasure, but of course I 
could say nothing from behind my gag. I became aware 
that he was speaking again. 

"I'll leave you to enjoy yourself. I'm off now, but on 
Monday morning I'll look in to see how you're getting 
on." 

"Wh-a-at?!" I wanted to say, but couldn't. 

Then the machine, and the electric shocks, began their 
random patterns of stimulation again at full strength. 

"Have a nice weekend," he said. 

I could just hear the door click shut behind him, 
abandoning me to the tireless embrace of my fantasy 
lover. 

     No, of course I didn't leave Chiyoko all on her 
     own to enjoy her fucking-machine from Friday 
     evening to Monday morning. It would have been fun, 
     but too dangerous. I looked in on her discreetly 
     from time to time, and of course I had the video 
     camera on. Every few hours, without her knowing 
     it, I gently increased the level of the electric 
     shocks to her breasts and clitoris. But _she_ 
     thought she had been abandoned - and adored it. 
     When I freed her at last on the Monday morning 
     after sixty hours of non-stop fucking she said, 
     "Oh, _must_ you? It wasn't _nearly_ long enough!" 
     Then she went and had a shower, and after that - 
     still charmingly nude - ate a huge Japanese-style 
     breakfast which I ordered up from a local 
     restaurant. She finished with a mouthful of cum 
     which I was happy to provide, kissed me good-bye, 
     pulled on some clothes - nothing but a cropped 
     top, micro-skirt and heels - and danced off to her 
     studio to spend the day being fucked on camera. 
     Japanese girls are amazing. 


FOOTNOTES

[21] If you have read Megumi's book _All I Ever 
Wanted_, you may recognise these delightful little 
instruments: they are Chinese, and were a 
wedding-present to Megumi from her great friend 
Matsumoto-san. She has let me borrow them on a sort of 
permanent loan, so that the girls I fuck can enjoy 
them too - so long as she can have them back whenever 
she is planning a special evening with a lover and 
wants to wear them herself. Fucking a girl decorated 
with these clever devices is a lovely experience. The 
trick is to wait till she is on the brink of her 
climax before suddenly giving her the last "click", as 
Chiyoko calls it. The resulting orgasmic explosion is 
amazing, and afterwards it is very gratifying to have 
a delicious nude girl on her knees in front of you 
thanking you for all you did to her and imploring you 
to do it to her again.	                        - B W

[22] Why don't real cocks have that feature? It would 
be so nice. Any man whose cock was shaped like that 
would have an endless line of girls outside his door, 
begging to be fucked! 


[Next in Part 14: Chapter XIV: Ayako: The Holiday] 

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