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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Copyright 2004 by Rachael K. Ross all rights reserved.
This story may be archived/reposted to FREE adult
access provided my name, email rache696@yahoo.com and
this notice appear in the message text. This is a work
of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons or
events is strictly unintended.
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Turning Japanese
by Rachael Ross (rache696@yahoo.com)
***
Foreign women in Japan are looked upon as exotic by
Japanese men and are aggressively sought after as sex
objects. This is the story of just such a woman living
in Japan.(M+/F, F+/F, beasts+/F, huml, reluc, bd, tg,
ws, drugs, asian)
***
When my company transferred me to our Tokyo office, as
part of our cross-cultural management integration
process, I wasn't looking forward to it. I was a 25
year old woman, fresh out of Harvard with my MBA and,
truth be known, I was looking forward to settling down.
Working 9 to 5 and maybe even finding a boyfriend. I'd
been so busy during college I hadn't had time for
dating, even though I am very attractive and had plenty
of offers.
My appearance makes me really stand out in Japan.
Beyond the obvious of being a white American, I have
shoulder length blond hair, blue-green eyes, and large
36C boobs. My ass too, is nice and round, standing out
from most Japanese girls, who seem to have no ass at
all. I have great legs that I've always been proud of
and one good thing about Japan is the fashions, they
really are on top of it in Tokyo. I like wearing short
skirts and nice tailored blouses and blazers.
Appearance is everything sometimes and even more so in
Japan.
I have had a lot of strange experiences here. One of
the first was riding the Tokyo subway system. The
trains, both above and below ground, are extremely
efficient, and extremely crowded. Japanese men seem to
take a perverse pleasure in these circumstances, using
the crowded conditions to excuse their desire to feel
up any woman who catches their fancy. For me it became
a daily exercise in self-control, as I quickly became
aware that not only was it extremely impolite to get
angry and display emotion, but also quite useless.
Venting on a Japanese man usually only got you some
very cold and unsympathetic looks from everyone, even
old women and children.
Of course not reacting also invites more and bolder
advances, so it becomes a real no win situation. It can
be very humiliating, even degrading, and at first I was
nearly driven to tears by it. Now I just endure it,
keeping my body still and trying my best to ignore what
is happening, but this isn't always possible.
Just for an example, a few months after I arrived, when
it was still a quite warm September, I was riding the
train and it was crowded as usual. I was wearing a
short cotton skirt, no pantyhose, just some panties
underneath. A plain cotton blouse and a light blazer. I
was in a corner, but not near the doors unfortunately,
but at least I could look out the window, when I felt
someone rubbing my thigh.
I just ignored it and the hand was going back and
forth, a little higher as the train rocked until I felt
the fingers brushing across my panties. The hand turned
sideways, pushing a little so I would spread my legs
and I thought I'd resist, but he was insistent and I
shuffled my feet slightly, giving the stranger better
access. He rubbed my slit through my panties for a few
minutes and then, inevitably, slipped his fingers
inside the leg band to touch my smooth shaven mound.
I don't usually get excited by this, but sometimes I do
and that day I could feel myself getting damp. I felt
him pushing his fingers inside me, my labia clinging to
him as he worked slowly in and out. I just leaned
against the window and shut my eyes and soon I was
getting very wet and the Japanese guy, whose face I
still hadn't seen, brought his fingers to my ass then.
For whatever reason, the Japanese are fascinated with
anything anal. He started pushing his wet fingers into
my ass, making me gasp very softly as my muscles gave
way. It didn't feel bad though and he fingered my ass
for several minutes before the train came to a station.
I didn't look around as people came and went and I
assumed the Japanese guy who had been fingering me
would still be there, but instead I was surprised a
moment later by some very different fingers. If I had
to guess I would say that some other man had been a
witness to the whole thing and after the first guy had
left, he jumped in to take his place. His fingers were
thicker and he wasn't as gentle. He probed my vagina
for several minutes and then I was very surprised when
he took my hand with his free hand and pulled it back
so I could feel his exposed penis.
This had happened a few times to me, but not very
often. More often during the cold months when a man
could cover himself with a coat. I played with his
cock, feeling it not too hard, but thick and warm and
we masturbated each other until he suddenly came,
spurting all over my hand, wrist and the back of my
legs. It felt slightly disgusting and I blushed as I
wondered how in the world I was going to clean myself
up. My stop was coming soon and I'd literally have to
push my way through the crowd to get out. I ended up
wiping myself on my skirt, being as surreptitious as I
could. The man had stopped fingering me as soon as he
came and I never did see either of the men's faces.
Another thing that is unusual are the lunches. I
learned very quickly that it is not uncommon at all for
Japanese businesswomen to prostitute themselves during
their lunch hours. At first I was shocked at this and
then even more so when one of the Japanese men who
worked in my department suggested we get a hotel room
for lunch. He was willing to pay me 10,000 yen, about a
hundred dollars for the pleasure of my company.
I refused of course, but the offers persisted, and not
just from him. It seemed the men in the company had
made some kind of betting pool as to which of them
would bed me first. I found it insulting and I reported
it to my supervisor, an older Japanese man who had
struck me as a fair and reasonable fellow.
He surprised me when he told me that I should not say
no to my fellow employees because it was bad for the
company spirit. We were a team, the man said, and I
should help do my part to keep us successful. I was so
put out by this, really very discouraged, that I took a
few days off, calling in sick.
When I came back to work my supervisor wasn't pleased
at all and while he didn't mention my lack of providing
my sexual services specifically, he did make it very
clear that he would file some very adverse comments
about my performance if my attitude didn't change. I
was being blackmailed, it was plain as day, and there
was nothing I could do about it. The company had no
sexual harassment policy in Japan. I'm serious, it just
did not exist.
I ended up accepting an offer from one of the
supervisors in another department, who at least was
good looking. He took me to a hotel that rented rooms
by the hour called `Happy Moon Love' in English and
I'll tell you quite frankly that it was the most brutal
sex of my life up to that point. I felt like I was
being raped and I wondered why he was acting the way he
was. I'd come willingly, albeit somewhat embarrassed
since everyone who didn't know already would definitely
know by the close of business.
The room was small and had nothing but a thin futon on
a traditional mat floor. Once inside the room we
undressed. I was a little shy because I hadn't been
with a man in almost a year and I knew this guy hardly
at all. My Japanese still wasn't very good yet, and his
English was marginal at best. Once I was undressed I
turned around and saw him standing there stroking a
surprisingly large penis. Like most Westerners I'd
imagined that oriental men were generally small in the
penis department, but this guy certainly gave lie to
that. It was a solid 8" and pretty big around.
I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing, if I should
just lay down or what and I smiled a little nervously
as he stared at me. Then, without saying a word he
grabbed one of my breasts in his fingers and squeezed
it so hard I nearly screamed. He used it to pull me
down to my knees and I complied rapidly because it felt
like he was trying to rip it right off my chest. I
would have been mad, but I was too busy being
frightened, if that makes any sense. It was just so
unexpected.
He pushed his cock at my face and soon had his hands in
my hair, pulling me onto him. I'd never really been
into sucking off my boyfriends before and so I was a
little reluctant maybe doing it for this guy, who was
little more than a stranger, but he didn't care. He
held my head and basically just fucked my mouth. It was
almost painful as he tried to get me to open my throat
so I could deep throat him.
I was choking and gagging a little as I sucked him
noisily, my hands pressing against his thighs, and then
finally he caught me just right and his cock just
popped into my throat. He slid all the way down, until
his hairy balls pressed to my chin and he held me there
like that for a good 30 seconds or more. My eyes were
watering and my throat felt sore and bruised. I
sputtered and retched a little when he pulled back,
gasping for air, and then he did it again, easier this
time.
He fucked my throat for awhile, talking to me in
Japanese, and laughing occasionally. It did get easier
as I learned how to control my muscles a little, how to
let him enter me so it didn't hurt so much. But
basically he was just raping my mouth and I felt deeply
ashamed while he did it. I was crying and had my eyes
closed nearly the entire time. This seemed to amuse him
though, and I've found the same to be true with many
different men since that first time. They really like
to feel that thrill of power over a woman, especially
an American woman I think.
At least he didn't cum in my mouth, like I was afraid
he would. Instead he put me on my hands and knees and
fucked me like a dog, pushing his cock roughly into me
and I was grateful that his cock was so wet from my
mouth, because my pussy was very dry. It still hurt a
little. He stretched me very quickly and made me cry
out, which of course was a sign to him that I wanted
more. I also became aware of the fact that he wasn't
wearing a condom and I wasn't on the pill or anything.
I tried breathlessly, gasping the words between his
thrusts, to tell him that he would have to pull out.
That I couldn't afford to get pregnant.
I didn't know then if he understood me or not, but I
realized quickly that he had no intention of pulling
out of me. Instead he grabbed my arms, literally
pulling me back onto his cock as he leaned backwards,
so we were joined and balanced on our knees, fucking
like that. I couldn't have gotten away from him if I'd
tried. He was inside me deep and I begged him again to
stop, to pull out. I'd even suck him if he wanted,
letting him cum in my mouth, but please, not inside my
pussy.
It was no use I felt his cock jerking and he held me
tight to him as I became aware of a flood of warmth
filling my womb. His cockhead was right up to my cervix
and it actually might have felt really good, if I
hadn't been cringing and literally weeping with
despair. I knew I was ovulating, there was little
doubt, I was right in the middle of my cycle. His sperm
filled me and he must have been saving it up, because
there was a lot. When he finished he just got off me
and dressed, not saying anything and leaving me there.
I felt so sorry for myself, I just looked at my pussy,
stretched and sore and leaking the guy's sperm.
When I arrived back at work, a little late, there was a
lot of smiling and bowing by the men I worked with. The
women largely ignored me, but the guys, they were happy
because I'd finally put out. The man who'd first
propositioned me, Kenji, told me he wanted me the next
day. I felt numb and embarrassed and I just nodded. It
was humbling to realize that I'd basically become a
part-time prostitute for my company, one of the Fortune
500 that I'd been so eager to join.
I did file a complaint to the VP of Human Resources
back in the United States, not saying specifically what
I'd done, I couldn't bring myself to do that, but
generally informing him of what seemed to be corporate
policy regarding women here in the Tokyo office. The
reply came back that the company would look into the
matter. I never heard another word about it and I
realized that Japan could do whatever it wanted, it was
the price of doing business.
I wish I could really tell you how humiliated I truly
was, especially when I went to a Japanese drug store
and purchased a large quantity of condoms. I also
needed to see a doctor and get back on the pill. I was
more than a little unhappy with myself, because I felt
like I was giving in too easily, just giving myself up
without a fight. But what was I going to do? I needed
the job and I was 10,000 miles away from home. I
thought I was doing the only thing I could.
Since that first lunch when I had sex, I'd done it
pretty much every day since. Except when I was on my
period and with the birth control pills I'm on, my
period is really only 3 days long now and very light,
so often I have sex on those days anyway. Japanese men,
some of them anyway, don't mind at all. The one's who
do are more than happy to have anal sex, or just oral,
but mostly anal.
I also found out how easy it is to get an abortion in
Japan. I did in fact get pregnant that first time. It
took me 3 weeks to find out and I think I already knew
it. I'd never been pregnant before and I'd grown up
with typical the suburban American romance regarding
the subject. I wanted it to be with a man I loved, a
man I was married to. Instead it was a stranger's
child. A man whom I only just barely knew and couldn't
even have an adequate conversation with, if I wanted
to. I did write him a note, translating it into
Japanese as best I could, and I gave it to him a few
days after I found out.
He was going to fuck me again, paying me for the
privilege of raping me during lunch, but raping me none
the less. Before I undressed I handed it to him,
watching for his reaction as he read it. He just wadded
it up in a crumpled ball and threw it, laughing at me.
I was so offended I tried to slap him, but he stepped
back and then surprised me with a sharp punch to my
stomach.
The man, a division manager at our company, ripped off
my panties as I lay crying and trying to breathe
through the pain. He fucked me, not bothering with a
condom since it was obvious now that there was no need
for one. While he did it, he would abuse my belly,
perhaps trying to cause a miscarriage, I don't know. He
pressed on me hard, punched me, and the whole time just
grinned and talked to me like I was a wayward child.
He didn't cause me to lose the baby, however, and a few
weeks later one of the secretaries at work who spoke
passable English told me she'd been assigned to take
care of my problem. Obviously it wasn't much of a
secret around the office anymore. She took me to a
clinic, a very small one located nearby and I paid
23,000 yen for an abortion. It was fairly quick,
painless physically, although inside I was suffering
terribly. I was raised a catholic and I knew this was
wrong, but I also knew I could never keep the child. It
was another all-time low in a series of them.
In addition to being a prostitute during my lunch hour,
I was soon initiated into the social responsibilities I
was expected to perform after normal working hours for
my bosses, usually when they wanted to impress an
executive or two from another corporation. Apparently
it was some perverse point of honor that my boss could
provide a pretty gaijin woman for his dinner guest's
pleasure.
This was often accompanied by some of the most
humiliating and degrading experiences of my life. If
you can imagine it, I performed it, sooner or later. I
do not know if these men, supposedly the cream of the
Japanese business community, were actually into those
things, or if they were just warped by the potential to
abuse an American woman.
One of the first times, I was dressed very nicely and
attempting to entertain a vice-president for a large
Japanese bank. There were two dozen of us, 12 men and a
female companion for each of them, at an exclusive and
private rest house in Tokyo. There was a dinner
provided, a bath house, some bedrooms. It was basically
a place for Japanese men to take their mistresses and
have all the comforts of home.
The other girls were all Japanese and I felt very alone
there, being largely ignored, except when one of the
men would eye me with very obvious sexual hunger. They
didn't bother disguising it at all and while my
Japanese wasn't very good, I knew enough of the
vulgarities already to know when they were talking
about me and the things they would like to do.
My corporate VP for Marketing Japan was the host and I
naturally deferred to him in all things, but he
surprised me when after we'd eaten, or I should say the
men had eaten. We females didn't touch anything but our
tea. The VP asked me if I was a `Milky Girl'. I tried
to translate this, as many times what a Japanese will
say in English has a completely different meaning than
what the words are. Other times it can be very literal.
I'd never heard that term before so I lowered my head
and tried to explain I didn't understand.
Well, it seems a `Milky Girl' is a female with a sperm
fetish. This was definitely not me, but I didn't have
very much choice at all. It was time for sex games,
which the Japanese seem to love a great deal. This one
was simple enough, all the Japanese girls began giving
their dates blowjobs. I was a bit shocked, seeing these
girls, all of them secretaries or minor executives,
salary women like I was, bending eagerly, even happily
to their tasks. I was not exactly thrilled at the
thought of going down on the total stranger I was
sitting next to, an older man of about 60 I thought,
but I started only to have him push me away.
I didn't know what was going on. I sat there, rather
embarrassed as all around me women were sucking noisily
away and the men talked like it was just another day in
the lunchroom, laughing and commenting on the women's
techniques. When one man started cumming, a large
glass, like a goblet was used to capture the sperm.
This was done for every man there, except the VP I was
with. We just watched as the glass was passed around.
It was filling rapidly, I didn't really think men made
that much sperm. I'd heard most guys cum just a few
tablespoons, or something, but who knows.
All I know is that it looked positively gross. A glass
full of 8...9...10 and finally 11 men's sperm. It
looked like about 12 ounces of jism, with a thick gooey
consistency, pale yellowish and I felt nauseated to see
it. I didn't have a sperm phobia or anything, but this
was pretty far out there to my mind. I was in for an
even greater surprise though when the glass was passed
down until it was sitting in front of me. Like my
desert or something, there was no doubt what I was
supposed to do with it.
I looked at my boss and he just nodded, telling me to
drink it in Japanese. Everyone was staring at me and
many of the men and women were whispering and even
giggling. I knew the women were all very glad that I
was there, I had the feeling that a few of those girls
had been in my position previously. I just stared at
the glass for a moment and I felt my boss prodding me
until I finally picked it up. I swirled it around a
little, it was so gross. Like cream that had gone bad
it seemed. I could even distinguish between the
different men in the glass, the sperm was layered
almost, stratified by consistency. I looked around,
which was a big mistake because seeing those people
staring at me just made my face burn and tears start in
my eyes.
I took a breath and brought the glass to my lips,
smelling the very strong and pungent odor. It was
assaulting me, physically, mentally, emotionally. I
just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But instead I
tilted the glass and my mouth started to fill with
sperm and I gagged at first, unable to force myself to
swallow. I sat there, crying with my cheeks bulging
with sperm. My body was rebelling, my stomach churning
but somehow I managed to swallow. It was almost painful
and I brought the glass to my lips and repeated the
process slowly, taking perhaps 7 or 8 big swallows to
get it all down.
I put the glass on the table and looked down, hoping
desperately that I wouldn't throw up. I held my stomach
and didn't move, just hiding behind closed eyes in that
room with all those people. They were happy with me,
laughing and even the girls were speaking gently to me,
but I ignored them. I just couldn't bear to face them.
I'd just drank a big glass of sperm. I was going to
throw up any minute. But somehow I didn't. I just sat
there while the meal continued on around me. The men
were enjoying sake and the girl's were allowed to eat
small salads now. When they put the bowel in front of
me, the waitress poured a generous amount of bleu
cheese dressing on it, much to my companions' delight.
I couldn't eat it.
After that I became known as `Milky Girl' around the
office, which was horrible. My supervisor seemed to
think it was a very clever pun, because I was
Caucasian, and never hesitated to refer to me that way
no matter where we were. Of course it also meant I had
a sperm fetish, as I mentioned, and I blushed every
time someone used it.
My attendance at those evening business meetings became
more and more routine as time passed. They were
invariably similar in that I and any other female
present were only intended for the sexual gratification
of the men present. How that was achieved depended on
the men and the mood, but it almost never involved
straight normal sex. Sperm play was a favorite, most
often drinking it from a large glass and I became
somewhat used to it. At least it got to the point where
I could drink it without fear of getting sick. But I
always felt terrible afterwards. I learned that it was
best to eat a lot of crackers, or very dry bread before
I went to these dinners, it seemed to settle my tummy a
bit better.
One of the worst episodes I had involved bestiality,
which had never occurred to me. I'd never even seen a
picture of such a thing, never wanted to, although of
course everyone has heard stories of some kind or
another. This was on a weekend, a Saturday afternoon
and ironically enough it involved a couple Americans,
although they didn't work for my company. They were the
guests of honor, although such a thing is relative as
I'd learned to distinguish the subtle Japanese art of
insulting honored guests while making them feel
complimented.
There were seven men present, the two Americans, and
two executives from my company, and three other men
whom I didn't know at all, but were businessmen with
some company or another. I was the only woman present
which was unusual in itself and we were in a rest house
near Ueno, sitting in a garden which was very pleasant.
There were several dogs there, large ones, and I'm
certainly no expert, but I believe they were Boxers, or
a similar breed. There were three, all males, and they
were large as I said. One of them probably weighed
nearly as much as I did, and his head very nearly came
up to my shoulder. The other two were not much smaller.
I ignored them and rather concentrated on the
Americans, who were average looking, in their mid-
forties and not terribly amusing conversationalists,
but at least they were from home. I was mostly
surprised that some Japanese women weren't present,
because as fascinating as most Japanese men found my
occidental appearance, Westerners generally had the
same interest in oriental girls.
When the talk turned to sex, as it inevitably does, my
boss was offering me to do anything, speaking in his
broken English as if I couldn't hear him. I looked down
and burned with humiliation as he told the men,
American and Japanese, that I would do anything. I
would fuck, suck, drink sperm. I was a `Milky Girl' he
said proudly and I literally shook with embarrassment.
"Anything, huh?" One of the American's chuckled.
"God, I love this country!" The other one said. "Will
she have sex with dogs?"
I jerked my head up as I registered the words and I
couldn't believe I'd heard him correctly. The Americans
were staring at me of course and I think the red on my
cheeks was even more amusing to them than anything
else. I whispered "No." but if anyone heard it, they
ignored my feeble protest completely.
"Dog?" My boss asked and when the American pointed at
one of the animals he nodded and laughed, clapping his
hands. "Yes! Yes!" He agreed and there was a lot of
talking and good natured chuckles, but none of it
directed at me. They didn't care what I thought of the
idea.
I knew it was coming, but there was nothing I could do.
I suppose I could have gotten angry, refused and
stormed out, but that would have ended my career
completely. My Japanese bosses would see to it I never
did anything more with my hard won and frightfully
expensive college education than manage a McDonald's
someplace. It was blackmail of worst kind, insidious
and degrading, and completely unstoppable. My whole
future would be in ruins if I refused, and if I
accepted, how would I ever be able to get through
another day? I was crying softly as I undressed with my
back to the men.
The two executives from my company, a couple of
assistant vice-presidents, paid no attention to my
distress. "Kimakura-san, please, I do not wish to do
this." I spoke to one of them softly.
"It will be good for the company, Lisa-san. Good for
you too." He smiled and I shut my eyes tightly.
I was naked and one of my bosses pushed me down, so I
was bending over a chaise lounge made of teak and
satin. Another of the Japanese men had pulled one of
the dogs over by the collar. He was huge and his fur
short, chocolate brown and black. I didn't know what to
expect and I was shaking with nervous energy, almost
ready to flee. I'd never even owned a dog, they scared
me a little, especially the larger ones, like these. I
felt his nose against my sex as he was pushed down and
Kimakura told me to spread my legs wider. As I did so I
felt the sudden touch of the animal's rough and warm
tongue, sampling my vagina from the rear. I almost
jumped out of my skin and one of the Japanese men I
didn't know came over to put a hand on my shoulder,
pushing me down as the dog licked me.
It didn't feel terrible by any means, in fact I almost
found myself enjoying the sensation, especially when he
started digging inside my pussy and scraping that
tongue across my clit. This only added to my
humiliation though, especially when I could hear the
Americans laughing about how it was obvious I was
enjoying it. One kept saying how he'd always wanted to
see this and he couldn't wait. He only wished he'd
brought along his camcorder. I thanked my lucky stars
that he hadn't, it was a small consolation though.
After several minutes of being licked I heard them
talking about how the animal was getting excited now. I
was getting damp, despite my fear and embarrassment,
and the dog could taste my sex juices now. Apparently
his cock had begun to swell and one of the Americans
wondered if I'd be able to take it. This caused some
momentary panic because I had no idea how big a dog's
penis was, I wanted to look, but I was afraid of
appearing eager. I finally did get a glimpse and gasped
with shocked dismay as I saw what was hanging beneath
the animal's belly. It had to be 7" long and fat in the
middle, very fat, but tapered on both ends with a blunt
almost sharp looking tip that dripped like a faucet. It
was big and not even fully erect yet, I didn't think.
The other two dogs had come around now as well,
sniffing and barking excitedly. I ignored them and the
men around me, just wishing this would all be over. I'd
never, ever live this down I knew, I could only hope
that these men wouldn't talk about it. Or if they did,
they'd at least have the decency not to mention my
name. But reflecting on recent history, that seemed
very unlikely.
They finally got the animal to mount me, albeit with
some difficulty I think and I had to move my ass a
little to accommodate the angle better. I felt the hot
wet tip of the dog's cock stabbing at me as he tried to
find my hole and I let out a high pitched scream when
the animal finally found it and just slammed his entire
cock inside me. It was incredibly painful like that,
nothing slow and gentle about it at all, he sensed he
was in and just started fucking as hard and fast as he
could.
My scream soon died to a soft whimpering sound as my
body just collapsed under the dog's furious assault. It
seemed to have only one concern and that was filling
his new bitch with sperm, making some puppies. My pussy
felt totally abused, being stretched and possibly even
torn, as the cock swelled inside me. It fucked in and
out so fast and hard it literally knocked the wind out
of me and I was gasping while my body jerked with every
thrust.
The Japanese man who had been holding my shoulder took
out his penis and was jerking off while he watched and
I soon became aware of all the men doing that. I was
crying now, very real sobs from the unbearable
humiliation, more than anything else. The pain had
largely gone away after a few minutes and it was
starting to feel okay. But emotionally, I was dying
inside. The men were all talking and laughing and
commenting on how it looked like I was really enjoying
it, although how they could have thought that I have no
idea. I was basically being raped by the animal. His
paws were on the lounger, his heavy chest against my
back, pinning me down, and his cock buried inside me. I
could do nothing but take it.
I'd thought the worst was over when the pain from the
animal's initial thrusting had faded away. I was
resigned to it now and my pussy was juicing in response
to the stimulation, but then I felt something else.
There was a hardness banging against the outside of my
pussy. I couldn't identify what it was, I had no
experience with dogs at all. I now know it was the
knot, the large bulge of muscle that dogs have. He was
slamming it against me until I screamed again, not so
much in pain really, as in surprise when the large hard
ball suddenly popped into my soaked pussy, stretching
me and filling me completely.
I arched my back and tried to push myself off, but it
was no use. Every movement I made was futile at best
and worse, it only seemed to move that knot deeper. I
was moaning loudly, weeping and begging for the dog to
stop when I felt an orgasm rush through me. I was
completely unprepared for it. There was no slow
building up like there usually is for me, it just
happened, like a tornado out of a clear sky. I was
humping that hardness like a mad woman then, heedless
of the men watching, just getting off with a dizzying
confusion of pleasure.
The dog came too, shortly after that, and then the men,
all of them moving to spray their cum on my face as I
lay panting and flushed. They got it in my hair and
eyes, and all over my face and neck. The dog was tied
to me, his bulging knot trapped inside my pussy and he
waited patiently. I couldn't move then, I didn't want
to move, I just thanked God it was over. I'd cum, yes,
and that betrayal by my body was bothersome to me. I
didn't want to feel pleasure doing that thing with an
animal. I didn't want to enjoy debasing myself in front
of strangers. But I had, and I knew it. And even more,
each of those men knew it.
When the dog's knot had finally gone down enough, he
pulled free with a small flood of our combined juices
gushing out of me. I started to move then, feeling sore
and tender, especially between my legs, but I was
stopped. There were still two more dogs and I was
yelling then, protesting loudly, but it was no use. The
dogs were going to mate with me, whether I liked it or
not. I resisted to the point where it became an issue
of quitting my job, and common sense prevailed. I'd
already done it once, what difference would doing it
again make?
I fucked the other two dogs over the next hour or so,
probably longer, and I was so sore by the end I could
hardly move. All of the men had masturbated at least
once more, covering my face with their sperm so that I
was sticky with it. My hair was terrible with thick
drying gobs of cum. I was a mess, barely even human in
appearance I thought, much less the beautiful young
woman I'd come into the garden as. There were girls
there, geisha's who stayed there, and though they
hadn't been invited to our little party, now they were
called to help me clean up. They were very gentle and
sympathetic and I didn't look at any of the men, or say
anything as I was led to a private bath.
I managed to sleep through the rest of the weekend, but
I was still incredibly sore Monday morning when I went
into work. I walked slowly and wore flats instead of
heels and no matter how I squirmed, it was impossible
to sit comfortably at my desk. I received a rude
surprise though when I went to our usual 10am Monday
meeting and found one of the American's there. He was
going to give us a presentation and I felt myself
burning hotly as I sat, unable to meet his gaze. Every
time I did risk a quick glance, I caught his eyes
staring at me and a smile playing across his lips. He
hadn't known who I was before, probably assuming I was
just some goodtime girl, but now he knew and I would
never be comfortable again. I imagined him going back
to the States, telling his story about me to all of his
contacts over drinks, laughing and then delivering the
punch line that I was a marketing officer for one of
the largest companies in the world.
Over time I became aware that I was changing. The
outrage and shock I'd experienced at first were
gradually wearing away. I found myself actually
enjoying my lunchtime proclivities, at least with some
of the men. Even the occasional evening entertainments
seemed to be less offensive than they'd once seemed. I
was becoming jaded by my experiences, my sensibilities
becoming inured to the terrible things I was being
forced to do. If I were of a suspicious nature I might
have suspected my Japanese employers were doing this
deliberately, following some sort of protocol to turn
me into a sexual tool for their pleasure and benefit.
But my only real thoughts were that I needed to survive
this experience. To get out of Japan at the end of my
little tour and see about restoring my reputation back
home. Much of that would depend on my evaluations
though, and it was clear that my performance out of the
office was at least as important as anything I could do
in it.
On my 26th birthday I was treated to a special night by
all the male employees of our department, or at least
the majority of them. This was about 30 men, most of
whom I had slept with already at least once. I really
do think that some of them thought they were doing me a
favor, a special honor. Others merely wanted to degrade
me more. It is curious in Japan that there are two
lines of thought. One is the unconditional acceptance
of foreigners, and the other is the absolute loathing
of our presence. There is no middle ground it seems,
and I had learned who was who very quickly. The men who
wanted no part of me in the business world, were
naturally enough, the ones who liked to purchase my
lunchtime services the most often. Fucking me to
demonstrate their superiority.
My so-called party was held at a private bar, Japanese
only. Japanese men only, to be precise, but for this
occasion I was allowed in. There were several hostesses
working there, young and attractive Japanese women who
sang karaoke, served drinks, and offered sexual release
to patrons. Because I was known as a `Milky Girl' and
I'd grown accustomed to drinking glasses of sperm upon
request, it had been decided to give me a `bukake'
party. I'd never heard of this before, but basically,
as I was to find out, it was a sperm bath. Being
covered with it, usually on the face, and drinking a
lot of it. In addition to the 30 men from my company,
there were perhaps a dozen or more who were just the
usual patrons.
I didn't know what was in store for me. The men were
all nice enough, buying me drinks, singing, talking
loudly and enjoying themselves. I was even relaxing a
little, thinking that perhaps I might have to do
something, but thinking it was my birthday, so maybe
this really was just a time to relax and enjoy myself.
I did like many of the men and got along with them
well.
Eventually I found myself sitting in a low chair in the
center of the small bar. There was plastic on the floor
beneath me and I wondered vaguely at that, but I was a
little buzzed from the drinks. One of the girls brought
over a strange looking metal pan, like a bed pan
almost, except smaller. It was round and one side was
indented with a curve that went under my chin, so that
it curled halfway around my neck. So I had this
stainless pan, perhaps 2 inches deep and 6 inches wide,
curving from ear to ear in front of me. I held it
there, not quite knowing what was going on when the men
started pulling out their cocks.
My eyes got very wide indeed at that point and I looked
around understanding suddenly exactly what was going
on. These guys, nearly fifty of them, were going to
masturbate and cum on my face. What I didn't swallow,
what didn't cling to my pretty face and golden hair,
would drip into the pan I was holding. I had a
sickening sensation in my stomach. This was my birthday
party? Getting degraded by my coworkers and worse, a
number of complete strangers? I was even more
disheartened when I saw that most of the men had
brought cameras and a few had camcorders, all to record
the event for posterity.
My body felt like it was on fire and I shivered,
regretting that I was wearing one of my nicer business
suits. I'd paid nearly 800 dollars for it only a week
before, a special little present to myself. I knew it
would soon be ruined and that thought, for some reason,
seemed almost the hardest to bear. I would have cried,
but I didn't. I made up my mind that resisting this
would only hurt me more. I could hardly stand seeing
those men, stroking their pricks around me like
schoolboys at a proverbial circle jerk. They were
drinking, laughing, and joking. I took a deep breath
and somehow managed to smile, inviting them to do it.
To masturbate on my face and spoil me with their
disgusting seed. It was a terrible thing, I know, to
have to pretend I was enjoying it, that I wanted it. I
thanked each man as he approached, sometimes standing
on tip-toe and arching his back. They would jerk and
throb and sometimes cum would spew out in a gush of
heat, sometimes it would spray hard and thick, and
sometimes just dribble out.
They painted my face for over an hour, some of them
jerking off two and three times. My face was a mask of
sperm. My makeup running and adding color as it
streaked down my cheeks. The stuff burned my eyes and I
had tears to mix in with the sloppy sticky mess. But
still I smiled, tilting my head to catch their cum on
my lips, chin, forehead, nose, cheeks, even in my ears,
and in my hair. It was everywhere. I felt like I was
getting a facial, a mudpack or something exotic to make
me beautiful, but this was something else entirely. I
must have looked terrible, with all that goo running
down into the pan I held.
It dripped down my neck, staining my blouse and blazer.
Onto my skirt and no matter how carefully I tried to
catch it in the pan, some little bit always seemed to
escape. But that pan was getting full. I had to move
carefully as it sloshed inside, so I wouldn't spill the
whole thing all over myself. It stank with the male
musk unique to sperm and I actually smiled a little I
think, recalling how that overpowering scent had once
almost made me ill. Now I hardly noticed it.
I smiled for the camera repeatedly and pushed out my
tongue for those who wanted to cum there, taking the
sperm in my mouth and then spitting it out so it ran
down my chin into the pan. I tried to swallow as little
as I could and I found my mouth filling with saliva, so
that I was spitting that out as well, even when I had
no cum to speak of in my mouth. When at long last they
were finished, my arms and shoulders aching from that
position I'd been in for so long, they brought out a
large glass pitcher, like a beer pitcher and I
carefully poured the contents of the pan into it.
I don't know how much the pitcher held, probably a good
96 ounces I'd guess, 8 big glasses worth, and it was
about two thirds full. The substance looked gross, a
pale yellowish mixture of 40 some men's semen. A girl
gave me a large mixing stick and I stirred it around,
smiling for the cameras. Then it was time to drink it.
They didn't give me a glass, instead I would just use
the rounded pouring lip that was molded into the
pitcher's rim. I tilted it up, trying to forget what it
was I was drinking, trying to become deaf and blind to
the men who sat and stood around me, filming it and
laughing. The girls, the hostesses who giggled a little
nervously, were undoubtedly telling each other that
they would never do such a disgusting thing.
But I did it. I took it down my throat into my
unprepared stomach in one large swallow after another.
I would take a mouthful and lower the pitcher, holding
the cooling spooge in my mouth and try to swallow it
without retching. It was rich and nasty, with a texture
like snot, thickening slightly I think as it sat there.
My stomach was churning, the sperm settling inside me
and making me feel sick, but I ignored it. Forcing more
down and feeling bloated as I swallowed a lot of air as
well, I needed to swallow three or four times just to
get a mouthful down and keep it down. In between I
would pause, occasionally belch and that would bring a
slight gag, a little spasm in my body. But the guys
didn't notice, they just cheered me on until I had
drank the entire contents.
I put the pitcher down and closed my eyes, taking short
shallow breaths. I felt like a gutter slut, the worst
kind of woman in the world. I imagined my friends and
family back home hearing of this, or seeing pictures,
and I felt the tears coming again. I couldn't believe
what I'd just done, for no other reason than a bunch of
perverted Japanese men had wanted me to. I knew I was
changing and as I sat there, crying with impotent anger
and humiliation, I knew it was a change for the worse.
The bad thing was, no one there, not even my closest
friends from work, understood what I was feeling. They
thought I'd enjoyed my birthday present. That I was too
happy to speak or something, and that incredibly stupid
thought made me laugh. Of course that only spurred them
on and I was grateful when one of the girls brought me
a drink. I was still covered with sperm, now drying to
a tacky mask and one of the guys pulled up my blouse,
exposing my tummy so they could see it. In no time I
was undressed completely in front of the crowd and
everyone it seemed wanted to touch me. My stomach
mostly, squeezing it as if they could feel all that
sperm inside me, but also playing with my ripe full
breasts and spreading my legs to play with my shaved
pussy.
It wasn't long before they had me down on the plastic,
with my long legs spread wide so they could gangbang
me. I was so far gone I didn't protest, I just endured
it. It even felt good at times and I had a number of
small orgasms while the men took their turns with me. I
was turned over to give them better access, a couple
guys pushing me down to straddle one man's cock and a
moment later someone was behind me, pushing his penis
into my ass. Another cock found my mouth and I had
cocks in each of my hands. I felt like a porn star or
something and the thought reminded me that all of this
was being filmed. But I couldn't do anything about it.
When one man came another soon took his place, the only
time I really moved at all was to let someone slide out
or in beneath me. I was a total wanton slut now, and I
pushed everything else out of my mind.
It was my first gangbang and amazingly enough I was
actually a little proud of myself when it was over. The
men were well and truly spent and I was a mess. Sperm
was running from my overflowing cunt and my ass felt
loose and wet, a little sore, but I must have had a
gallon of sperm in my rectum by then. I'd swallowed a
lot and I was literally covered from head to toe with
the stuff. I looked like a drowned rat, I supposed, and
I just wore my skirt and blazer home, using my
expensive new blouse to clean myself up a little in the
back of the taxi. The driver didn't seem too happy.
Needless to say, pictures of my birthday party quickly
made their way around the company. It seemed every
department had their own album full of them and it was
so bizarre. Japanese are the strangest people on earth.
I was signing autographs on occasion, penning my name
across 8x10 blowups of my face covered in sperm, or
getting double penetrated. This was a culture in
serious need of something, I didn't know what, but
something. I found it to be embarrassing generally, but
after awhile I largely ignored it.
All that changed though the night I was to accompany a
small group of businessmen to a club in Yokohama. It
turned out to be a BDSM sex club, of all things, and I
was very shocked at some of the things I saw there. All
of the girls working there were in fetish gear,
beautiful and expensive PVC and leather of all shapes
and colors. I was dressed normally and the only women
customer in the place. Along with me were three men,
one of our company VP's and a couple business
associates he wanted to impress.
The club wasn't large, as such things rarely are in
Japan. There was a small stage and seating for perhaps
50 people around it, chairs and small tables with
candles. It was frightfully expensive to get in, 30,000
yen each, about 300 dollars, but my boss didn't even
flinch. There was no charge for me, like most clubs,
women are free. Once inside it was open bar, you could
drink as much as you liked and there were numerous
small snacks available. But the real interest was in
the stage shows, which were 15-30 minutes long, with
intermissions, and featured almost any kind of light
BDSM you can imagine.
I played with the two associates of my boss, feeling
their cocks while we watched, doing my part for the
corporate image. Then there came something interesting.
They'd brought out a smaller girl, in her mid-twenties,
but very fragile and pretty. She was nude but for a
pair of handcuffs dangling from each wrist, she wasn't
yet bound in any way. They were offering a short riding
crop for auction and naturally enough I suppose, these
Japanese men wanted to see the American woman whipping
the girl.
I'd never done anything like that in my life and as I
took the crop and swished it through the air, I was
pretty sure it would hurt a lot. A hostess dressed in
black leather chained the girl to a pair of rings
hanging from the ceiling so her back was to the
audience and told me to begin. I gave her a few smacks
on her butt, gentle ones because I genuinely was
uninterested in hurting the woman. The Japanese men
watching however were unhappy with that and they were
yelling at me to really hit her. I whipped her a little
harder, but not very much, it just wasn't in me to do
that. The girl looked over her shoulder, as if to ask
me when I was going to start and I just looked at her.
My whole performance lasted less than ten minutes and I
was feeling very uncomfortable and self-conscious as
the hostess took her crop back. I started to leave the
stage, but my boss was yelling, saying that maybe the
girl should whip me instead. It was hard for me to
follow his Japanese, but I got the idea and so did
everyone else, who laughed and clapped and nodded. The
hostess looked at me and it was obvious she was a very
strong person, a Dominatrix or whatever you want to
call her. She literally grabbed my jaw in her gloved
fingers and pulled my blushing face to look into her
hers.
"Do you want to be punished?" She was asking me and I
tried to look at my boss before I answered, but she
held my head tight.
I could hear him, even if I couldn't see him, telling
the hostess that it was alright because I worked for
him. I would do what I was told, he said, and there was
more laughter. I really didn't want this to happen and
I felt a small twinge of fear in my stomach. The
Japanese woman holding me was strikingly beautiful and
her eyes seemed warm, almost comforting and perhaps
that was why I agreed to it. I thought she would make
sure I didn't get hurt. I wasn't a professional BDSM
model or whatever they called those people, by any
means.
Another girl, dressed in a bikini came out and uncuffed
the girl I was supposed to have whipped and then the
two of them helped me undress while the hostess
watched. I looked around, taking a deep breath because
of the 30 some men in that place, I only knew three,
and really only one...My boss. I was naked in a roomful
of strangers and I could hear them talking about me,
generally praising my body, but occasionally the odd
Anglophobe would call me a cow or a fat pig. I tried to
ignore everything as I was fitted with a collar and
then leather cuffs around my wrists, fastened with
silver buckles.
I had thought they might bind me the way the girl had
been, just handcuffed to the rings in the ceiling, but
instead my arms were brought behind my back, bent at
the elbows so my arms pressed painfully upward against
my spine. It hurt a lot, making my joints scream and I
didn't know a person's arms could even bend that way.
They fastened my wrists to a large ring on the back of
the collar. I had to arch my back just to ease pressure
on my shoulders and this pushed my breasts out further,
which was just what was intended.
My legs were spread a little wider than my hips, and I
was chained to small rings built into the floor of the
stage. I was fitted with a ball gag, which I didn't
like at all, and I shook my head, saying that no, I
didn't want to be gagged. I was afraid that if I was
hurt too much I wouldn't be able to make them stop, to
even yell for help, or whatever. I admit I had no idea
what was going on, this was a totally new experience
and I was in over my head right from the beginning.
The gag was a big red rubber ball that was squeezed
into my protesting mouth and then buckled around the
back of my head. I felt my heart pounding with
excitement and fear, it was interesting to me, in a
forbidden sort of way, and I didn't understand what I
was feeling. If someone had asked me what I thought I'd
feel about being a submissive I'd have said no way, I'd
never do it. But now here I was, getting butterflies
and not entirely because I wanted them to stop.
Finally a chain was lowered from the ceiling and it too
connected to the ring on the back of my collar. It was
pulled taut, just enough to give me the sensation of
pressure, but not enough to lift me off my feet or
anything. I was standing there, bound helplessly now,
gagged and uncertain of what was going to happen. The
hostess played with me first, which I found both
stimulating and humiliating. I'd never had anything to
do with another woman in my life, not even as a
teenager. I knew I wasn't lesbian, or even bi, not in
the least. But here was this beautiful Japanese woman
stroking my breasts, talking to me softly and telling
me it was going to be okay, and I was enjoying it.
She moved her hands down, encased to the elbows in
skin-tight black leather, soft and shining, until she
found my sex. She rubbed across my slit for a little
bit and then watched my eyes as she pushed a finger
inside me, massaging my clit with her thumb and making
me tremble. I don't think I'd ever been so excited so
quickly in my life. I didn't know what was going on,
whether it was because of the woman, because I was
bound, because of the men watching, or a combination of
things. I only knew she was going to make me cum in
about 30 seconds if she didn't stop.
She must have realized it too, not that it could have
been too hard to tell really. My whole body was jerking
and my skin fairly glowing. My eyes wide and begging
for relief. The woman didn't stop and her laugh was
soft and high pitched when she brought me off. I came
hard and after a few moments of leisure finger fucking,
she brought her fingers, now wet with my juices to her
mouth and licked them. That was the end of tenderness
for a time, though.
The girl I was supposed to have whipped with the crop
was now given the task of whipping me. She looked like
a Japanese angel, perhaps 5' tall with big brown eyes,
small firm breasts and a thick patch of black pubic
hair. But she was a demon in disguise, I think, because
she used the crop on me without mercy or sympathy. Not
on my ass either, which I might have borne better. She
whipped my breasts, taking a perverse delight in
punishing them until they were covered with angry red
welts, top to bottom, side to side. She struck me no
place else, only my tits and it was unbearable.
I will tell you I screamed as long and hard as I could
against that gag. I jerked and twisted. I pulled
against my bonds until my body was bathed in sweat. I
thought someone had poured gasoline on them and tossed
a match. I felt daggers of ice plunging into my breasts
over and over. It was a horrible contradiction of
sensation that my body couldn't deal with. I watched as
my breasts turned darker, bruises beginning to appear
on my pale skin before the girl had even stopped.
My knees could barely keep me upright and I struggled
to keep my balance. I had never believed anything could
hurt so badly. I stared at the girl, now sweating and
breathing hard, smiling back at me. I was aware that
I'd been crying and this seemed to please her quite a
lot, she told the hostess that my tears made me even
prettier. I think she would have continued until I
passed out if the hostess hadn't stopped her. I
wondered how anyone that lovely could be that cruel.
The hostess began playing with my cunt again and I was
surprised to find that I was soaked down there. I
thought I should have been dry, but being whipped like
that had brought me right to the edge and the woman
brought me off again with very little effort. My climax
roared through me, mixing with the pain in my breasts
and it was like the door to heaven had been cracked
open. It was a revelation that I couldn't understand
then, but the hostess knew. She understood completely,
I think, and probably the girl who'd whipped me too.
The girl in the bikini returned with some long thin
leather cords. If I'd thought I was being released, I
was very mistaken. Instead they bound my breasts, one
at a time, winding the leather tightly around the base
of my tit, over and over, pulling it painfully tight
und making the fatty tissue seem to balloon outward as
the flesh narrowed. They did this to both of them, so
that my tits looked ugly and misshapen, red and bruised
and then starting to turn darker as the blood inside
them was trapped by the leather.
I was groaning uselessly against the gag in my mouth
when the hostess stepped back to admire her handiwork.
She gave some orders and a moment later the bikini clad
girl returned with a small bag of metal clips, like
clothespins, only stronger with heavier springs and
sharp teeth like large alligator clips. The hostess
worked these onto my nipples first, which were hard and
distended, red with blood and swollen from the abuse
they'd already suffered. It was an incredible,
exquisite pain and my body jerked as they were clipped,
the hostess positioning the open jaws over each nipple
and then simply letting go, so they snapped into place
as if biting me.
A half dozen more were placed on each breast, clamping
my flesh and adding to the overwhelming pain I felt.
But beneath it all I was shuddering with excitement. I
was truly enjoying this, some terrible part of me that
I'd never known existed was getting off on being
tortured, being degraded and humiliated in front of
strangers. I felt my pussy aching to be filled and I
found the perverse desire to have the woman clip some
of those pins to my labia, even my sensitive clitoris,
to be an almost intoxicating thought. But this was to
be strictly breast torture, I understood, because they
ignored every other part of me except when the hostess
wanted to bring me off to another climax.
With my breasts whipped, bound, and clamped it came
time for the climax of the scene, of you'll pardon the
expression. The hostess disappeared from my sight for a
moment and this gave me time to fix on the crowd around
me, whom I could just make out through the bright
lights that shone down upon me. It felt wonderfully
strange to be helpless and in such torturous pain while
a few feet away men joked and laughed and played with
the girls who kept them company. I saw my boss, smiling
and pointing as he discussed me with his two
associates. I felt thoroughly degraded, as if I were so
much less than any of them. I was barely even human
now, I thought, more like an animal to be abused for
pleasure, than a woman with an education and a good
job. How could anyone ever respect me, I wondered. How
could I even respect myself?
All of my thoughts, however were soon lost as I felt
the hostess behind me. She had strapped on a large
dildo and she worked the head across my slit from
behind, so that it jutted out lewdly between my spread
legs. The woman teased me, and the crowd, for a few
minutes before finally pressing it not to my pussy,
which by now was begging to be filled, but rather to my
anus. She put her lips to my ear, whispering to me in
Japanese that her name was Mistress Atsumi and she was
going to make me her slave. I shuddered and the gag
made insensible my reply, but she knew I wanted it. She
pushed against me hard, holding my hips as that large
phallus stretched my tight sphincter and popped inside.
Then she began fucking me, getting a little deeper with
each stroke until eventually I had the entire 9" of
dildo inside my butt. Mistress Atsumi grabbed my tits
then, digging her gloved fingers into my tender flesh,
by now horribly swollen and purplish from their bonds.
Her efforts knocked several of the clips off and that
was another splinter of pain.
She handled my tits roughly, working them up and down,
squeezing and pulling them, pressing them as she fucked
my ass hard. I could feel her hot breath against my
neck and her leather encased body pressing to mine. It
was a glorious fuck filled with pain and pleasure and
for the first time in my life I came without feeling
any external stimulation on my clit or vagina. I shook
and whimpered like a little girl as Atsumi bent me
completely to her will. I was powerless and it thrilled
me to my core.
After our show was over, the girl who'd whipped me and
the other one, the girl in the bikini, unbound me and
brought me backstage. They cleaned me up carefully,
washing my body and applying a cream to my breasts
which looked terrible from the beating they'd taken.
The girls' hands were gentle and the water was very
hot, very relaxing and I enjoyed it a great deal. The
girl who'd used the crop on my tits climbed into the
water with me, sitting very close and I felt her hands
stroking me. She told me her name was Fumiko and she
asked me if she'd hurt me. I told her that she had, and
the woman looked a little sad. But I smiled and told
her I had enjoyed it.
After my bath I was ready to go back to my Boss, but I
could not find my clothes. I stood there in a towel,
looking around and unsure of what I was doing. None of
the other women were in the small bath and I opened the
door to peek out. It was a narrow little hall with the
bar directly ahead, the stage to the left, and offices
to the right. I was concerned because I thought my Boss
would probably be angry with me by now. I frowned and
had just about made up my mind to go to the bar when
Atsumi walked off the stage.
She smiled when she saw me and asked what I was doing.
"I am looking for my clothes, Mistress." I'd decided
that was the most correct form of addressing her.
Somehow `Atsumi-san' didn't seem like something I could
easily say. I was a little nervous around her, truth be
told, especially since she had just fucked my ass. "My
boss is waiting for me and I do not wish to displease
him." I had my eyes lowered.
"Your boss has left already. He did not leave your
clothes with Fumiko?"
"No, I don't think so." I looked around, feeling a
little helpless.
"He had my purse also."
"Oh my, well this is a problem." The beautiful woman
shook her head, but her lips curled in a mischievous
smile.
"What am I going to do. My money, my keys, everything
was in there!" I was feeling very insecure right about
then. Yokohama was a long ways from my apartment in
Shinjuku.
"Well, you could come home with me if you would like,
and in the morning you can call him at work. I'm sure
it is just a mistake."
"But I have to be to work in the morning!" I was almost
in tears.
"Oh, it is not so terrible. He is your boss, he will
understand why you will be late, I think." She was
making it sound almost reasonable and I really did have
no alternative. I couldn't afford a train home, and
even if I got there, I couldn't get inside my
apartment.
"Maybe." I nodded. "But I do not wish to be a burden to
you."
"It is no burden to be someone's friend." She laughed
softly and reached out to touch my cheek. "We will go
and have some fun tonight, you will see, and in the
morning everything will be fine."
Atsumi had Fumiko find me a dress. It was about 2 sizes
too small, especially for my breasts, which were large
by Japanese standards anyway, but were now swollen and
overly sensitive. The dress was leather, bright yellow
and had a bodice that laced closed, but when I put it
on I was barely able to cover my nipples and the laces
hung free like tassels from my breasts. The bottom of
the dress, was a tight leather skirt that barely
covered my ass and it was stretched about as far as it
would go. I was a little dismayed at my appearance,
thinking I looked like a very cheap prostitute, but
Atsumi clapped with approval when she saw me.
She gave me a black leather thong that I struggled to
get into and a pair of patent leather pumps with 4"
heels that fit me alright, but they definitely weren't
designed for comfort. The effect when I put them on was
to push my ass up and my breasts out as I had to arch
my back slightly. I hoped we were going straight to
Atsumi's apartment, because just walking through the
club as we left was enough to make me decidedly
uncomfortable, even though most of the customers had
already seen my little performance on the stage.
Atsumi was dressed as a Mistress should be, attired as
a fetishist wet dream, as was I admittedly. She wore a
black leather dress, longer than mine and much better
fitting. It had a skirt that fell just above her knees,
but was very tight, just the same, as though molded to
her body. The top was more of a corset than a real
dress, with a push up bustier and laced in the back.
She wore her black leather gloves, clinging to her arms
up to her elbows and she had her hair pulled back
severely in a knot.
As we were leaving Fumiko hurried over, giving Atsumi a
black leather collar, which she affixed around my neck
and to it was attached a silver chain, like a dog's
leash, with a leather looping handle that Atsumi held.
I wasn't too sure about this and I fingered the collar
a little nervously.
"Don't worry, Lisa, it looks very appropriate for you."
Atsumi smiled and gave the leash a little tug. "I will
call you slave tonight, and you will call me Mistress.
You will enjoy it, you will see."
"Yes...Mistress." I answered and that seemed to please
her a great deal. We walked out of the club and into
the night, hailing a cab to take us to Yokohama
Station.
I was unbearably nervous and I fidgeted in the back
seat beside Atsumi. She touched my leg and I looked
down, seeing that the dress was completely hopeless. It
was so short that no matter how I sat my crotch was
completely exposed, the white of my skin contrasting
starkly with the black thong that barely covered my
sex.
"Where are we going, Mistress?" I asked her, trying to
keep my voice low, but I saw the driver's head turn
slightly and I reddened.
"We will go to Roppongi, slave, but before that I think
we must go to Shibuya, I have something I would like to
do first." I cringed a little as she'd spoken in normal
tones, casually, as if calling someone a slave was a
normal thing.
The cab dropped us off at the west entrance of the huge
train station and it was terribly crowded as always. I
was beet red as Atsumi led me by my collar through the
crowded plaza and down the wide stairs to the sublevel
where the trains were. People openly stared at us, and
there were a lot of comments made. It was not everyday
one saw a stunning Japanese woman leading a beautiful
American around on a leash. It was humiliating, but it
also filled me with a strange happiness, a feeling of
pride perhaps and I could feel Atsumi's confidence
radiating from her in waves and I took strength from
that.
By then I had obviously become aware of my secret
pleasure at being publicly humiliated, of being debased
and dehumanized even. No doubt it is plain as you've
read my story so far, but hindsight has it's own
clarity that is often lacking as the events themselves
unfold. I'll say I was aware of my desires, but I had
not embraced them willingly before that long walk
through Yokohama Station. That, for me, became a
journey from the subconscious yearning to the conscious
acceptance of who and what I was. Or at least the
beginning of it.
All of my protestations, my reluctance and
embarrassments previous to this seemed silly and
contrived now. I remembered all the times I'd been
shocked and horrified, stunned by what I was being
`forced' to do...like this, being paraded through a
crowd of literally thousands of strangers, dressed as a
wanton slut for the pleasure of another, more dominant
person. And yet, for the first time I was able to tell
myself that it made me happy to do so. That this was
something that I wanted very much and if anything I was
lucky that Mistress Atsumi had recognized this, that
she was strong enough to make me do it.
I was soaked when we finally boarded our train, my
juices staining the small bit of lining in my thong and
even running down my thighs. I thought of the times I'd
been groped on trains similar to this, how I'd felt
violated and told myself I was angry, but I hadn't
been. I smiled to myself, knowing I'd loved every
perverse minute of it. I wished someone would do that
now. I wanted someone, a man, a stranger, to feel my
cunt and ass, to fuck me there, in front of all those
people. To make me suck his cock, let him cum on my
face, do anything he liked. I wanted to feel that awful
humiliation and worse, I wanted to show everyone how I
enjoyed such treatment.
But no one touched me. Mistress Atsumi was close, the
leash connecting us declared me to be her property, and
none of the men present would contest that. I looked
around at them, feeling the superiority that being
owned gave me. I was confident suddenly, strong and
inviolable. `You're all cowards!' I wanted to shout at
them as they looked away from my alien eyes. `Useless
cowards who cannot face a woman and take what you want,
but only steal it from behind her back.' I was angry
not at what had been done to me before, but only that
I'd once given weaklings such power over me.
Now it was different though. I gave Mistress Atsumi the
power, totally and completely, denying it to anyone
else around me. I looked at her and she smiled, as
though reading my mind. To make my point succinctly I
knelt on the dirty floor of that train, putting my head
close to Mistress Atsumi's skirt, pressing to her
thighs and looking up. She moved her hand to my hair,
stroking me as the train rocked back and forth, moving
quickly towards Shinagawa.
At Shinagawa we changed trains and it took another 30
minutes before we were in Shibuya. Every time now, when
we were on a train, or standing in a queue waiting for
a taxi, or when we arrived at a small shop and went
inside, if we stood in one place for longer than a few
minutes, I knelt. It seemed proper somehow and I knew
it pleased Mistress Atsumi very much. I found myself
wishing she'd handcuffed me, and I kept my hands to the
small of my back, if I could, while I knelt, or even
walking behind her.
The shop we were in was a BDSM place, selling
everything from fetish wear, to equipment, to magazines
and videos. Mistress Atsumi seemed to be very friendly
with the owner, another woman, obviously a Dominatrix,
although not as beautiful as my Mistress. Atsumi
unclipped the leash and told me I could look around if
I wished and I thanked her politely, understanding that
she wished to have a private conversation with her
friend.
I'd never been in a BDSM shop before and it was
fascinating to me. I had never imagined some of the
things I saw, paddles and whips of all shapes and
sizes. Clothes that looked almost too beautiful to
wear. There were several mannequins dressed and on
display. One that I studied quite intently was wearing
a PVC hood, tight fitting and close to the scalp, with
bright steel zippers over the eyes and mouth. This was
paired with a leather jumpsuit, skintight and encasing
the body completely, with gloves and boots. It too had
zippers covering the breasts and the genital area.
Another zipper, this one black and hidden, ran along
the spine. The outfit gleamed under the fluorescent
lights and I thought it both lovely and frightening,
totally hiding the person beneath.
"Do you like it?" A soft voice asked me and I turned to
see a very cute and young Japanese woman, dressed in
tight black leather shorts and high heels. She wore no
blouse, but instead a collar that was very wide,
covering her neck almost completely. Her breasts were
small and the nipples swollen and cherry red, so red I
thought they might be painted, but they weren't. Her
face was delicate, with very high cheek bones and
pouting lips, and her eyes were small and narrow. With
her black hair falling in a sort of uneven shag style
around her shoulders, I thought the girl looked almost
mythical in appearance, like an elf or some dark nymph
who should be dancing in the moonlight.
"Yes." I smiled. "I like it very much."
"You are Mistress Atsumi's." It wasn't a question.
"That is good, she has been lonely I think."
"I do not understand what you mean." I hadn't yet
considered what if anything my relationship with Atsumi
was, beyond the immediate pleasure of being in each
other's company.
"Mistress Atsumi has not taken a lover in some time."
The girl shrugged, "but perhaps I am saying too much."
She decided to try and change the subject. "Your
Japanese is very good."
"No, please, I wish to know what you mean." I moved a
little closer to the woman. "I thought Fumiko-san is
her lover."
She smiled at me then. "Fumiko is Mistress Atsumi's
sister. Not her lover."
"Oh." I stood back a little at that. There was a
similarity, I supposed, once I considered it. But
honestly, I would not have noticed it on my own. It was
their eyes, Mistress Atsumi and Fumiko, they had the
same eyes in shape and color. Not so dissimilar from
other Japanese women, perhaps, but wonderfully unique
when one was staring into them, as I had been.
"I am Jun." She nodded in the direction of Mistress
Atsumi. "My Mistress is called Kami."
"My name is Lisa, although tonight my Mistress has said
she will only call me slave." I bowed to Jun, not too
deeply, but as one used in business with equals.
The young woman returned the gesture with a smile. "You
are taught well, Lisa-san."
Just then Kami called to Jun and I looked over, but
Mistress Atsumi did not look at me, so I remained where
I was. A few minutes later the woman returned, carrying
my leash. She clipped it onto my collar and smiled. "I
have been instructed to find you a gift." She tugged at
me and I followed, curious as to what she meant.
We moved to a corner that displayed dildos and
vibrators of all shapes and sizes. They were arranged
neatly in ornate boxes behind a sample that was
standing, laying, or leaning in front of them. "Do I
get to choose?" I asked, feeling a little self-
conscious as we stared at the assorted collection.
"No, I will choose for you." Jun chuckled softly and
selected a cream colored butt plug that was perhaps 6
inches long. It was bluntly rounded at the tip and
swelled quickly to perhaps 7 or 8 inches around at the
widest point, before narrowing again to almost nothing
where the soft flexible rubber base was connected to
it. The plug looked huge to me and I thought Jun must
be joking.
"I do not think it will fit!" I giggled nervously as
the girl held it up.
"You do not think so, but you do not know." She grinned
at me slyly. "Come with me now." She picked up a
package, opening the lid and looking in to see that it
was the same, and put the display back in it's place.
She led me to what was ostensibly a changing room, like
a small closet with a curtain that closed with Velcro
strips.
She had me bend over, placing my hands on the plastic
cushioned bench against the far wall and I felt her
pulling my thong down. "You have a beautiful ass, Lisa-
san." She caressed me for a moment, running her fingers
across my slit and then my anus, teasing me and making
me shiver slightly. "You're Mistress told me I could
play with you, so you must let me."
I nodded. "Yes, please, I like it." I breathed.
I closed my eyes as she rubbed my pussy gently, working
her fingers back and forth across my lips until they
became fat and rubbery and slick with wetness. It felt
nice and she moved her fingertips to find my clitoris,
stroking the tiny bud and making me murmur my approval.
A few minutes later, just as it was feeling very good,
I felt something else rubbing my slit. I thought at
first it was the butt plug, but then it was warm, and
shaped not at all like the hard blunt plastic of that
dildo. This was more like...
My eyes opened wide and I liked over my shoulder as the
head of Jun's penis lodged in my hole.
She?...He?...pushed, grabbing my hips and pulling at
the same time so that her cock pushed delightfully into
my ready vagina, stretching me nicely and making me
grunt softly.
"You...you're a man?" I asked stupidly, feeling the
penis sliding back and forth inside me. I wondered how
she'd hidden her penis so effectively in the tight
shorts, now down around her ankles.
"I am whatever Mistress Kami desires me to be." She was
saying as she fucked me at a nice slow pace. I still
regarded Jun as a she, even though the cock inside me
gave lie to that. It felt good, not very large perhaps,
but enough. "It pleases her now to make me a woman."
Jun's hands moved up to fondle my sore breasts through
the bodice of my dress. "Soon I will have breasts like
yours."
I moaned softly and Jun picked up the pace, thrusting
her cock deep so that I could feel her soft balls
slapping my tiny erect clitoris and bringing me to the
edge of an orgasm.
"Cum for me, Lisa-san. Cum on my cock for me now." She
was whispering in my ear, bent over me now and working
her prick in short quick stabs, rather than long slow
strokes.
"Yessss..." I hissed through clenched teeth and my body
gave in to the pleasure completely. I gave a sharp
little cry and then only low mewling sounds as I felt a
hundred soft explosions deep between my legs.
Jun gave me my moment and then slowly withdrew her
penis. "What are you doing? Don't stop, please Jun, I
want you to cum also!" I was looking over my shoulder
with half-lidded eyes, panting and feeling my pussy
protesting the sudden emptiness.
"Thank you, Lisa-san." Jun smiled at me. Her face too
was flushed and her eyes were shining with the need to
orgasm. "I will cum, but only in your ass." With that
she pushed the head so quickly past my sphincter that
she was inside before I'd even fully translated her
words. "I've never fucked an American before, Lisa, I
expected you to be so much bigger inside."
I groaned loudly and felt my ass being split apart as
it instinctively resisted. Jun was smaller than the
dildo Mistress Atsumi had used earlier, and much better
lubricated for the penetration, but it still burned a
little and I knew she was enjoying the tight warmth of
my anus around her cock as she went deeper.
Jun fucked me good for five minutes or so, reaching
around my hips to play with my cunt and bringing me to
another shuddering climax as she pumped her cock deep
and gasped, flooding my butt with warm semen. It felt
good and we paused for a moment, her body pressing down
on my back, while we both caught our breath. I turned
my head so Jun could kiss me sweetly on the lips and I
thanked the Japanese transsexual for making me feel so
good.
When Jun pulled out, she immediately unwrapped my gift
and had me spread the cheeks of my ass so she could
push the plug inside my sperm filled rectum. "That is
so beautiful, Lisa-san!" She was giggling and pushing
hard until the extreme width of the toy had stretched
my sphincter to almost unbearable limits. I was shaking
and moaning and then let out the breath I was holding
as it popped inside and my sphincter closed tightly
behind it. Jun continued the pressure until the small
molded rubbed base was snug to my wrinkled little hole
and it disappeared from sight as I was finally able to
let go of my cheeks.
I stood up feeling more than a small bit of discomfort
as the plug inside me seemed to push against my body
like an insistent cramp.
"How does it feel, Lisa-san?" Jun asked, standing there
with her penis hanging from her girl's body, semi-erect
and covered with the remains of my ass fucking. I
stared at it and dropped slowly to my knees.
"It feels very nice, Jun-san. Let me thank you properly
for this gift." I took her penis in mouth, sucking
gently and tasting my ass on it. It was slightly
bitter, almost acrid, but I didn't mind it. I wanted to
clean her as best I could, and I circled my tongue
around the head, licking at the soft ridge with the tip
of my tongue before taking her 5" completely inside me.
I bathed her cock thoroughly with my tongue and moved
to her balls, pressing the shaft to my face as I
suckled at the smooth shaven sack, soft and silky.
I would have been content to let Jun cum in my mouth,
to swallow her sweet cream, but she lifted my face
tenderly when she got close. "We must stop now." Jun
told me. "My Mistress will expect me to perform for her
later and if you make me cum again, I will be
punished."
"Is that a bad thing?" I giggled and gave the head of
her cock one last suck.
Jun laughed also, "No, Lisa-san, the punishment is not
bad for me, but only the disappointment to my
Mistress." She pulled me to my feet and pulled my thong
up my legs before fixing her shorts. I watched as Jun
pushed her swollen cock almost painfully down between
her legs, so it curled under her balls and the head
nestled against her ass. It looked uncomfortable, but
when she pulled up her shorts it was difficult to
believe she had a penis hidden away there.
I walked a little slowly, a little awkwardly, against
the pressure in my anus from the butt plug. I felt
every little motion and it did hurt if I wasn't careful
how I moved, the plug was very large, not in length but
in girth. Mistress Atsumi watched me and smiled,
knowing already the reason for my delicate steps. Jun
and I approached the two women and I bowed very low,
thinking that it was appropriate, but the motion
brought an intense discomfort that made me draw a sharp
breath.
Mistress Atsumi watched with seeming disinterest as I
straightened slowly back up, keeping my head down, but
my eyes up fearful that I'd displeased her somehow.
"Did you fit her with the largest one, Jun?" Kami asked
and the girl nodded that she had. "And did you give her
something to keep her warm also?" Her voice was teasing
and I blushed slightly.
"Yes Mistress." Jun replied.
Mistress Atsumi took the leash from Jun's hand, moving
so that she could reach beneath my too short skirt and
rub my ass, working her fingers deep to feel the base
of the plug and giving it a little push-pull, ensuring
it was securely inside me.
"Perhaps we will skip Roppongi tonight, slave." She
spoke softly. "I feel the need for better
entertainment."
We took our leave of the shop and walked several blocks
to another place, this one on the 5th floor of a long,
but very narrow building. There was an elevator, but we
took the stairs, largely to make me feel the effects of
136 steps on the plug in my ass and the extremely
arched shoes on my feet. It was a slow torture and very
subtle in design, I thought. I could feel Jun's sperm
in my ass, moving fluidly around the plastic that
stretched me so thoroughly. It was not entirely
unpleasant.
This place was a body modification shop, primarily for
piercing it seemed, although it was apparent that
branding and tattooing were also available. There were
large display cases with all forms of rings, bars, and
oddly shaped metal devices designed to penetrate,
stretch, or compress the flesh. On the walls were
photographs, large and small, in color and black and
white, of actual piercing, brandings, and tattoos. I
had never been in such a place in my life and I
swallowed nervously, wondering why we were here, but
instinctively knowing it was for my benefit.
The man who owned the place was older, with long white
hair and a beard, strange for a Japanese who generally
have little regard for facial hair. He was slight and
dressed normally enough. It was also obvious that he
knew Mistress Atsumi very well. My Mistress bowed low
before him briefly and this surprised me so much that I
did not move at all.
"She is American?" He asked immediately, not bothering
with even the most rudimentary greetings. This again
surprised me, as polite and proper greetings are a
cultural institution for the most part.
"Yes." Mistress Atsumi said and gave me a sharp glance.
I regained my senses then and bowed at once to the man,
able to ignore the protesting discomfort of my ass. I
bent at the waist as low as possible and held it until
I heard him speak again, perhaps 10 seconds later. It
seemed a very long time.
"Does she speak Japanese?" He wondered and I had the
impression he'd never seen an American before,
ridiculous as that may sound.
"It is passable, she is learning slowly." Mistress
Atsumi replied as I straightened up again. "Slave,
greet this man. His name is Keiyu."
I had my eyes lowered properly as I spoke as well as I
knew how. "Master Keiyu, it is an honor for this humble
slave to be in your presence." I frowned as I knew at
once that my pronunciation of several words had been
flawed. "I beg your patience for my ignorant tongue."
The man laughed happily and clapped his hands, as if
he'd just witnessed a trained seal bouncing a ball on
it's nose. It was very impolite of him, I thought, to
mock my efforts at pleasing him. I wondered then if
Mistress Atsumi was equally displeased, but I couldn't
dare to look, instead I merely closed my eyes tightly
and felt small tears beginning to run down my hot
cheeks.
"You will always surprise me, Atsumi!" The man
chortled. "But it is good to see you so happy again. It
has been too long since I have seen you, daughter."
Daughter? I almost looked up in surprise. I did not
know if he'd used the word literally or figuratively.
Daughter was not a term of familiarity that I'd heard
in common use. I thought it must be the truth and the
idea of being presented in this fashion to Mistress
Atsumi's father was almost distressing to me. There was
no practical experience I could draw upon to give their
relationship context. My own father was an insurance
adjuster, he knew as little about my personal
relationships as I did about brain surgery. But
Mistress Atsumi and her father seemed to be much more
intimate than that.
"This is what I would like for her." Mistress Atsumi
was handing the man a piece of paper covered with kanji
in her delicate script.
Keiyu looked over the note carefully, rubbing his beard
at one point. "Have you discussed this with her?" He
looked at Atsumi hard, reminding me of the way my
father looked at me when he thought I was making a
mistake.
"No. I do not have to, she is my slave." Mistress
Atsumi tugged the leash and I dropped to my knees in
response. "She will accept what I ask of her."
"She is not Aijen, Atsumi." Her father's voice was soft
and I wondered at what this was about.
Obviously Mistress Atsumi wished to do something to me,
but I had no idea what that was. I assumed that
whatever it was would be permanent and I was torn
between wanting to have it done, whatever it might be,
without having any choice; and the more sensible desire
to exercise some control over what happened to my body.
"I know that, father." Atsumi was speaking quietly.
"But I know this woman. I know what she wishes, even if
she herself does not. Do you doubt it?" She seemed to
be challenging the old man and he shook his head.
"I do not doubt that you believe that, Atsumi."
"So then you will do it?" Atsumi crossed her arms,
pulling my leash inadvertently so that I had to lean
forward with my head to her thigh.
"You must ask her." The man gave Atsumi back the paper.
"I will not do it like this."
"I will ask her now then. You will see I am right."
Atsumi reached down and touched my face, lifting my
chin with her fingertips so I looked into her face. It
seemed clouded by something, fear perhaps, or
uncertainty, like she wasn't so self-assured as she'd
professed herself to be.
"Slave..." She paused. "Lisa-san, do you wish me to
free you, right now? I will give you back your things,
Fumiko has them, and you will leave me and we will
never speak again. Do you wish this?"
I was not so surprised at her admission that Fumiko had
my clothing and my purse, I'd actually suspected as
much. It had given our little game a wonderful pretext.
I thought about the evening and how I'd seemed to learn
and grow at every step. I felt loved and wanted by this
woman, as I'd never been before, and even now I could
see hope shining in her eyes. I didn't know what, if
anything I was accepting, or losing. Somehow that
didn't seem to matter, because Mistress Atsumi would
know, and she would protect me, I was certain of it.
"No Mistress, I do not wish to be free." I couldn't
help but put my arms around her waist as I knelt there.
"Please do not send me away."
"Do you love me, Lisa-san?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Do you trust me also?"
"Yes Mistress, I love and trust you."
"Will you give yourself to me now, here in front of my
father, as my slave and lover?"
"Yes Mistress."
"You must say it, Lisa-san."
"I give myself to you, Mistress Atsumi, my body and my
heart and my spirit and my mind. I will be your slave
and I will be your lover in all things. I swear this to
you, before your father and all of the world. I beg you
to accept this humble offering, Mistress."
I do not know where those words came from. It seemed as
though another voice had spoken through my lips, a
different me, unknown and unsuspected, lurking and
waiting within my heart for this precise moment in
time. It is a very Japanese concept that every thing
and every person has a perfect state of existence, a
harmony in which they are most pure and most content. I
had heard of it, read of it, but never experienced or
even believed in it, until right then. Giving myself to
this woman, a stranger it had taken 26 years and 10,000
miles to find, was my perfect moment.
"I accept you Lisa-san." Mistress Atsumi said softly
and I wept gently, feeling myself suddenly overcome by
emotions I had never experienced before. She stroked my
face lovingly and smiled at her father.
"Huh." The older man grunted, but accepted me also.
"She has a lot to learn, but that is your concern now.
Come with me."
I was led to a small room with a chair that seemed like
a cross between a dentist's chair and an OB/GYN
examination table. I was told to undress completely and
I did so, feeling only a little shyness as Mistress
Atsumi's father watched me intently. Mistress Atsumi
had stayed behind and I felt perhaps more uncomfortable
being out of her presence than anything else.
"You may call me father now." He told me as he
positioned me in the chair, bringing stirrups into
place, wide apart so I had to spread my legs, exposing
my sex to him. "I will pierce you tonight, 8 times, and
when those are healed I will do additional piercings
until your Mistress is satisfied."
"Yes father." I nodded, swallowing nervously as 8
piercings sounded like quite a lot to a woman with only
pierced earlobes.
He was washing my sex with surgical soap, having put on
some thin rubber gloves already. It was a gentle but
thorough process that left my pussy tingling. I felt
his fingers inside me, not far, just enough to find my
inner lips.
"This is the Labia Minora." He identified them for me,
spreading my outer lips and pulling the inner so that I
could see them, small and bright pink from the
scrubbing. "I will pierce them both, 3 times on each
side, and set interlocking rings into them. You will be
able to urinate, to have your menstruation, but you
will not be able to penetrate your vagina with much
more than your little finger. You're hole is very small
anyway, so perhaps not even that. Do you understand
this?"
I nodded again. "Yes father, I understand."
"That is called female infibulation and it will keep
you chaste. I will also pierce your clitoris." His
fingers were stroking the hood of my clit, coaxing the
small bundle of nerves to stiffen and emerge from her
shy retreat. It felt good and I blushed slightly as I
watched the man's expert fingers coax my clit to her
full erect state, all of perhaps a quarter inch in
length, softly rounded and ruddy. It was aching already
and the thought of having it pierced filled me with
fear.
"Do not worry, child, I have done this many times
before. It will be painful, but I will not injure you."
He gave me what I hoped was a comforting smile. I just
gulped and nodded. My clit was very sensitive
sometimes. "Lastly I will pierce you here." He traced a
finger just above my sex, on the fat little swell of my
pubis. "A pubic piercing. It is good you are shaved
already, it will make it easier. But you will not be
able to shave again until it is well healed. The other
piercings will heal in a month, maybe 6 weeks at the
most, but this one may take longer. Your Mistress will
know how to care for them."
"I understand, father." It seemed strange calling him
that when I considered it in English, as if he were a
priest, but in Japanese it was better, with a meaning
closer to Daddy.
Atsumi returned and I could see she was carrying
several small plastic bags containing 7 rings and one
long bar with some kind of curling metal thing attached
to it. The rings were small enough, I thought, but the
bar looked thick and despite my fear for my clit, it
was the last piercing that I had the most difficult
time accepting. My skin looked so soft there, so
tender.
Keiyu took the bags and dumped the contents into a
metallic device used for sterilization, closing the lid
and turning a dial, then flipping a little switch. "It
will take some time before everything is clean." He
looked down at me and Atsumi smiled at him.
"Would you like to take her, father?" She asked him
sweetly.
"I have washed her already." The man said.
"But you can always wash her again." Atsumi persisted.
"It is fitting perhaps that her new father will be the
last man she will ever have inside her cunt." The
vulgar word widened my eyes and once again I tried to
imagine myself saying such a thing in front of my real
dad and I couldn't.
Keiyu nodded and smiled, laughing as he undid his
trousers and revealing a very large penis that soon
grew to full erection. Mistress Atsumi pulled a stool
close to the chair I was in and sat down next to me,
leaning her face close to mine as he we both watched
her father rubbing his penis across my slit.
"I have never been with a man, slave." Mistress Atsumi
whispered, the tip of her tongue tickling my ear. "But
if I did, it would be with our father. Enjoy it for
me." She said it almost angrily I thought and grabbed a
fistful of my hair, turning my face to kiss me hard,
pushing her tongue deep into my mouth at the same
moment Keiyu pushed his cock into the furthest reaches
of my cunt in one swift motion.
The effect of being fucked by a large penis, combined
with the large plug still stretching my ass, was so
intense as I felt more full than I'd ever been before
in my life. It seemed he was touching me inside in
places that I'd never known existed. I could feel the
friction between his shaft and the butt plug through
the thin sensitive walls of flesh that separated them
and the effect was deliciously wicked. I was cumming
almost at once, having been primed by his earlier
touches and the knowledge that this might be the last
cock I would have in my womb.
Mistress Atsumi continued kissing me the entire time.
It seemed our mouths could never tire of each other and
I felt her hand massaging my breasts, squeezing and
manipulating the flesh until my nipples burned and felt
as though they would leap from my body. I felt her
leather clad fingers tracing my welts, exploring my
bruised tits, digging into my body painfully when she
wanted to elicit a sharp yelp from my open mouth. She
drank all of that experience, breathing my moans and
sighs until I could barely control my own body. I was
jerking off the chair, thrusting my cunt against the
cock invading me, arching my back to press my tits to
Mistress Atsumi's palms, and working my tongue
frantically against hers. My orgasm's were rapid and
they stole all sense from my mind.
When father came, it was deep inside my sex, flooding
me with his sperm and I enjoyed it immensely. I found
myself almost wishing that I hadn't been on the pill,
that I could have conceived a child by this last man to
cum inside my cunt. I might have had a daughter, a
sister for Mistress Atsumi and I to love, but this was
only the idle dreaming of the rapture in which I was
caught. It took a very long time for my heart to slow
again and for my lungs to stop their ragged heaving.
Father cleaned my sex gently, using a washcloth and a
small douche to wash me inside. He placed a pan beneath
my sex and I watched as his sperm flowed out of me,
thin and weak as the man bathed my womb with warm
water.
The piercings themselves did not take so long to
perform and were only mildly painful. He did my inner
labia first, as he'd promised, using canula needles,
that left a small plastic sleeve behind when they
passed through my body. He used circlip pliers to open
each ring, which were not ball closures, like the one
that would go through my clit, but more like small hoop
earrings, with a narrow end that fit into the hollow of
the other end. He put three in each of my labia minora,
spaced equally apart by perhaps a quarter of an inch,
and interlocked as he'd described so that my pussy was
effectively shut to any penetration. It was forced
chastity and my emotional response was curious, I
didn't know how I'd feel about that in the days, weeks,
possibly even years to come.
The piercing of my clitoris was next and I fidgeted
nervously as I was prepared for it. All of the rings in
my labia were 2mm gauge surgical steel, but the one in
my clit was a smaller, only 1.6mm and made of 18 carat
gold. It was a ball closure ring with the ball itself
made from a small 4mm pearl. It was beautiful to look
at and father told me he would have preferred to use a
less ornamental surgical steel ring until I'd healed,
then replaced it, but Mistress Atsumi had insisted on
this.
He rubbed my clit once again, but this time engaged my
tender flesh with a surgical clamp, like a small
scissors but designed for squeezing, not cutting, with
which he gripped the base of my clit and pulled it
outward slightly. This wasn't so much painful as it was
dramatically over-stimulating and I trembled slightly,
biting my lips as Mistress Atsumi held me in her arms
and whispered soft words of encouragement. Father did
the actual piercing quickly after that and it did hurt,
but not nearly so bad as I'd imagined. He did it as
he'd done with my labia, using a canula needle, pushing
it through completely until a plastic sleeve penetrated
my clit, then threading the ring through the sleeve. He
removed the sleeve and fitted the pearl ball closure
and let the ring close shut. It was over in only a few
minutes and I stared at the new jewelry I sported,
hanging from my tender clitoris like a pale drop of
milk.
Mistress Atsumi was kissing me as I relaxed, smiling in
relief that the procedure had been so simple. It was
probably harder for father than for me, trying to
juggle the clamp, the needle, the circlip pliers, and
the ring. I giggled and told him he needed an assistant
and he took it good naturedly, smiling up at me and
telling me that sharing would take half the fun out of
it.
Lastly was the pubic piercing. Instead of a ring, I
would be fitted with a 3.2mm diameter bar that was
about 12cm long. On that bar would fit a `D-Ring' like
a half-circle with the ends curled, through which the
bar would be threaded. It would be a deep piercing, not
merely through the skin or a bit of flesh, but through
the mound of my sex which, father explained, was more
or less a build up of fatty tissue. There was no danger
of hitting anything vital, but it would be more painful
than any of the others and it would swell and require a
long time to heal. He would be going very nearly a half
inch deep he thought, maybe more at the center, because
of the shape of my pubis. Some women were more flat,
others more rounded, he told me I was fortunate because
I was one of the latter, with a nice plump and narrow
swell. He would not even need to pinch me too awfully
much, he smiled, which was a fortunate circumstance as
it would look more attractive, he thought.
The bar looked very thick and was fashioned from
surgical steel as was the D-ring with which it was
mated. For this piercing father would use a more
traditional piercing needle, it was sharp and designed
for cutting as it was inserted, but unlike the canula
it was not designed with a sleeve in mind, especially
one so long as we required. The needle itself was
larger than the bar, 3.5mm in diameter, and as it was
pushed through me, Keiyu would follow it immediately
with the bar, moving them both together using his skill
at the art to complete my piercing. There were other
methods, but this was exciting for him and he preferred
the traditional, manual method, as he called it, rather
than using an artificial guide.
As he prepared what he needed, bringing the tools and
materials fresh from the autoclave, father asked me if
I would like some anesthetic, just a local that could
be sprayed on. It would not eliminate all of the pain,
but it would lessen some of it. I shook my head, I
wanted to feel everything, to have the experienced
etched indelibly into my memory. That pleased Mistress
Atsumi, I knew, and our father as well I think.
He began the piercing by measuring me, using a
sterilized needle dipped in iodine to make to small
reddish marks on my flesh, the entry and exit points.
The bar would be centered approximately one inch above
my clitoris, at the peak of my pubis. I held my breath
as Mistress Atsumi held me and father began pushing the
needle with a slow and deliberate pressure. A small
amount of blood appeared, but this did not distract him
in the least. My legs tightened and I pressed hard to
the stirrups that held my feet, but I fought to remain
as still as possible. It hurt very, very much and my
face was soon bathed in sweat, but it was endurable as
long as my Mistress stayed with me.
As the needle went through and finally emerged exactly
on the small iodine spot where it was supposed to, I
let out a deep breath and hitched another with a soft
sobbing sound. My eyes were wet with tears, but I hoped
the worst was over. Blood trickled down my pale skin
and it was just a matter now of pulling the needle
clear while following it closely with the bar. The D-
ring was fitted over one end and as the bar emerged
from my flesh it was threaded through the other side.
There was perhaps an eighth of an inch of room on each
end of the bar, and onto those were fitted small steel
balls, twisted on using pliers. This pulled the bar
slightly against my freshly pierced flesh and I winced,
but it was over very quickly.
I now had a horizontal D-ring attached permanently to
my body, just between my legs at the top of my vagina.
It was four inches across and hung 2 inches below the
bar holding it in place, so that it actually fell below
my clitoris, framing it sweetly. I thought it looked
amazing and I quickly forgot the pain it had caused.
Now all I had was a dull throbbing sensation that
seemed so trivial it was barely worth noticing. Father
washed me gently again, then took a number of photos,
asking me to spread my pussy at one point so that the
rings in my inner lips could be more easily seen. After
taking the pictures, he applied a medicinal cream to
fight infection and handed me the tube to take with me.
He told me what to watch for as I healed, and how to
care for my piercings, but didn't go into a lot of
detail. He repeated that Mistress Atsumi knew how to
care for me. He said the best thing now would be to go
home and lie down, to remain off my feet for a few
days, and let my body take care of itself. All of this
sou
nded very good to me because I was very tired then.
I did put my panties back on and I both walked and sat
very carefully on the way to Mistress Atsumi's
apartment. She lived near the Ginza, the great shopping
district and her apartments were generous by Japanese
standards, on the eighth floor of a large complex. She
led me to a bedroom, which seemed largely to be used
for storage at the moment, and told me it would be
mine. She found me a simple kimono, of the casual sort
used for relaxing in the privacy of one's home or
garden, and left to make us tea while I changed. I was
moving slowly and the dress was tight and difficult to
remove, but I managed.
I found Mistress Atsumi in the kitchen, she had
undressed as the water heated and now stood wearing
only a silk robe, belted around her waist. She smiled
when she saw me and placed our tea, sugar, cream, and
some small pastries on a tray and I followed her to a
large balcony. It was secluded and filled with plants
so that it resembled a terrace garden. One could almost
ignore the city spread out behind the thick shrubbery
and trees that crowded the wrought iron railing.
Mistress Atsumi and I sat close together in small
lounge chairs, sipping our tea and talking. We
discussed who we were, where we'd come from, our
experiences growing up, sharing the little things that
make us who we are. It was very much like a first date,
that nervous talk when you hope you won't say something
silly, or that your interests won't seem utterly
boring. The difference of course was that I'd already
given myself to this woman, even though I had no real
understanding of why or how. It had just happened. How
dreadful it might have been then to find that we had
nothing in common, that we were not meant for each
other after all.
Luckily, that was not the case. If anything I found
myself even more drawn to this incredibly beautiful
Japanese woman. Every word she said rang familiar to
me, echoing a similar thought, or feeling, or
experience in my own life. I think my words had the
same effect on her as well. At some point our tea was
forgotten and I found myself embraced in her arms,
kissing the woman passionately as she whispered soft
words of love into my ears. I, who had never had a
lesbian experience in my life until that evening, was
hopelessly enamored with my new Mistress.
It was late when Fumiko arrived. She and Mistress
Atsumi shared everything it seemed; ownership of the
BDSM club, the apartment, and me. Fumiko found us still
on the terrace, quietly sitting and almost sleeping by
then in the warm summer night. She had prepared a snack
and sat down to eat it, smiling at us as she discussed
what had happened at the club, small business things
that were of no major importance. Mistress Atsumi in
her turn told Fumiko that I had given myself to her
completely, news that did not seem to surprise Fumiko,
nor was it immediately apparent if she was pleased or
displeased. I was very tired by then and it was too
difficult to try and understand the girl.
*
I woke up the next day and it was almost noon. I felt
very sore between my legs and somewhat itchy and I
reached down to scratch myself before I remembered my
piercings. Fumiko was awake already and she smiled and
gave me a cheerful greeting when I wandered into the
kitchen. She told me her sister was still sleeping but
that she was glad I was awake because we had many
things to do. The first being to feed me and then get
me cleaned up.
I was very hungry and after a breakfast of rice and
scrambled eggs with some small sausages, Fumiko took me
into the bathroom. It was arranged in traditional
fashion, although somewhat larger than the usual that
I'd seen. It was separated into three areas by sliding
doors. There was a small toilet, a large white and blue
tiled area for bathing, which had both a shower and a
large tub beneath a spigot, filled with water. There
were eyebolts embedded in the floor near the walls,
which seemed curious. The last room contained the hot
bath, similar in shape and size to a nice Jacuzzi.
Fumiko undressed me completely and then undressed
herself. She had me turn around and bend over so she
could remove the butt plug from my ass, grimacing at it
when she saw how dirty it was. I had become so used to
it that I hadn't even realized it was still inside me
while I'd slept. She told me to use the toilet while
she washed it for me, but that after that morning I
would have to take care of it myself. I would wear the
plug at all times, removing it only for bathing and for
using the toilet. It was to be a part of me, like my
piercings.
After my toilet we washed Japanese fashion. First with
cold water spooned from the large tub, washing
ourselves thoroughly. Fumiko washed my piercings
carefully and explained to me that there would be some
swelling and some discoloration and discharge, but that
was normal. She would check me everyday, or Mistress
Atsumi would, until they were healed fully. Next we
took a hot bath in the very large tub, heated through
the bottom by natural gas. It was not for washing, of
course, only for soaking, for relaxing after the cold
bath. Normally such baths could be long and leisurely
affairs, but Fumiko warned me that it was not good to
bathe new piercings too often or for too long, so our
bath was short.
She dried me carefully and applied medication to my
piercings and reapplied the butt plug into my ass. She
dressed me in a pair of old jogging pants and a
sweatshirt, it was the best she could do until my own
clothes were brought over. We would go to my apartment
now, she told me, and bring some things, moving slowly,
a little day by day until I could easily close my
apartment. It was then that I suddenly remembered work
and I nearly panicked.
I was telling Fumiko I had to call my boss, I had to
make an excuse, or something, I didn't know what I was
going to do. It was after 1pm already, I'd missed most
of the day. Fumiko was shaking her head, wondering why
I was fussing.
"You do not work there anymore." She laughed at me.
""What? Of course I do! I have to! Oh my God!" I was
reaching for the telephone when Mistress Atsumi walked
out of her bedroom, asking Fumiko what was going on.
She smiled at me and gave me a tender hug when she
heard the explanation.
"Slave, you do not belong to that company, you belong
to me. You will do as Fumiko tells you and then tonight
you will write a letter of resignation, do you
understand me?" She looked at me sternly.
"I..." My mind was reeling. Is this what I had agreed
to, and if so, was it what I wanted? I'd invested my
life in that job. Years of hard work to get an
education and now...? "I am frightened, Mistress." I
had to be honest. I couldn't agree or disagree yet and
I was glad that Mistress Atsumi accepted this.
"You do not need to be. I will take care of you, as I
have promised. There is nothing to fear." She put her
arms around my neck, looking into my eyes. "I love you,
Lisa-san, and I will keep you with me always."
I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. I had to trust
her, it was the only way. "Then I will do as you tell
me, Mistress."
"Good." She smiled and kissed me lightly. "After this,
I will punish you for such behavior, but this time I
will forgive you."
"Thank you, Mistress. I am sorry." I lowered my head,
feeling very sorry indeed.
"Is your ass prepared?" Mistress Atsumi felt for my
butt plug through the thin cotton of the jogging pants,
giving it a little push. "And your piercings, are they
well?"
"They are fine, Mistress." I nodded.
"Come with me now then, I will teach you one of your
duties as my slave." I glanced at Fumiko and she merely
smiled and lifted an eyebrow.
I followed Mistress Atsumi into the bathroom, into the
area where I had washed myself earlier. "Take off your
clothes, slave." Mistress Atsumi told me and I looked
at her, not understanding, but I did as she asked,
handing them to Fumiko who stood in the doorway.
Mistress Atsumi opened her silk robe, exposing her
naked body to me and I could see the dark tangle of her
pubic hair. "Get down, slave, I require your mouth
now." I had been waiting for this, wondering when my
Mistress would teach me how to please her with my
tongue and lips, but a little confused as to why she
wanted it then and there.
I had tasted myself before of course, but never another
woman's sex and I was a little nervous. I wanted to
please her, but I felt myself shy and awkward, fearing
that I wouldn't do it properly. I knelt and leaned
forward, parting my lips slightly and staring at the
outline of her sex through the shadow of her hair.
Mistress Atsumi surprised me by putting her hands in my
hair, pulling my mouth to her hard and bending her
knees slightly, to press her slit to my lips.
"Every morning, slave, you shall do this for me. Drink
now, carefully, do not make a mess or I will be
unhappy." With those words Mistress Atsumi began
urinating into my mouth and I tried to jerk
instinctively away, but her grip was tight and she
stopped her flow until I had calmed. "Try again,
slave." She said patiently, relaxing her muscles and
once again filling my mouth with hot piss. I swallowed
this time, feeling deep humiliation and revulsion at
being forced to do this. It was hot, slightly salty and
acrid, almost acidic as it filled my stomach. Several
times I came close to retching and I thought I would
throw up any second.
I managed to drink perhaps half of Mistress Atsumi's
urine, the rest running down my face and neck, into my
hair and across my breasts and body. I felt despoiled
and dirty and there were tears in my eyes as I stared
down at the tiles, pooled with her yellowish waste. I
could feel her staring at me, both of the women, Fumiko
and my Mistress and I was terribly shamed.
"You did very poorly, slave." Mistress Atsumi frowned
and grabbed my jaw in her fingers, tilting my head up
to face her. "Is my piss not good enough for you?"
I couldn't answer, my lower lip trembled and I had
tears running down my flushed red cheeks. "I'm sorry,
Mistress." I whispered. "Please...L-Let me try again."
I moved my mouth back towards her sex but she pushed me
away.
"Tomorrow, slave, I have no more for you now. You've
wasted it and you've made a mess of my bath. Clean this
before you leave." She turned to her sister. "Fumiko,
see that she is suitably punished, I will be at the
club tonight."
"Yes Mistress." Fumiko smiled at me.
I cleaned the bath, it wasn't difficult, and washed my
body and hair very quickly. I felt slightly nauseas
still, Mistress Atsumi's urine in my stomach seemed to
burn slightly, but it was probably just my mind
overreacting. I dressed in the jogging suit again,
looking very plain and shabby I thought, especially
when I saw that Fumiko had dressed very nicely, with
her face made up perfectly. She was a small beautiful
Japanese girl, and by comparison I felt like an ugly
American cow.
"Where is your collar, Lisa-san?" She asked me
pointedly and I did not know. I hadn't even realized it
had been removed while I slept. "Find it, you must
never leave this place without it."
I nodded and went to my bedroom, but couldn't find it
there. I paused and then went to the terrace and
searched frantically. It had suddenly become very
important to me, although I couldn't then express why.
I found it finally in the living room, sitting atop the
television and I breathed a sigh of relief as I put it
around my neck, buckling it into place while Fumiko
waited impatiently.
"You are responsible for the collar around your neck
and the plug in your ass. I will not remind you of
these things again, I will only report it to our
Mistress and she will be unhappy with you." She sounded
angry and I lowered my eyes, bowing to her.
"Forgive me Fumiko-san, I will not forget. Thank you."
It seemed to placate the smaller woman and we left for
my apartment.
Fumiko had retuned the night before with my keys and
nothing more it seemed. If she'd brought the rest of my
purse or my clothes, she made no mention of it and I
didn't ask. We took a train to Shinjuku and then a
short cab ride to my apartment building. Inside Fumiko
had me get my mail, my important personal papers, my
passport, and any other small items I desired to have
nearby. I grabbed my laptop and a few music CD's, my
diary, and packed a single small suitcase with clothes.
Fumiko allowed me to change and I was able to dress
nicely and makeup my face, brush my hair and teeth. In
all we were there less than an hour and soon traveling
back to my new home.
We stayed just long enough to put my things in my
bedroom and then we left again, this time going to the
Ginza to do some shopping. I had no money, but Fumiko
didn't seem to care. We bought a lot of personal items
for me, especially makeup, perfumes, scented oils and
soaps, innumerable beauty products really. I briefly
wondered if Fumiko was trying to say something about my
personal hygiene. We bought some clothing, but it was
all for wearing around the apartment. A silk robe, some
house slippers, pajamas, nightgowns, that sort of
thing. I wasn't used to that, having been accustomed to
just sleeping in an oversized t-shirt and panties for
much of my life.
By the time we carted our purchases back to the
apartment it was nearly 6pm and we left again, this
time going out for dinner. We hadn't spoken much during
the day. I was uncertain of Fumiko's attitude towards
me, which seemed at times to be warm and friendly,
almost loving, and at other times the woman was
distant, cold in a way. Fumiko herself did not deign to
enlighten me, speaking to me only when it was
necessary.
At dinner I decided to find out, if I could, what the
woman really thought of me. We were in a nice
restaurant that specialized in Kobe Steaks and the
prices were ridiculous, even by Tokyo standards. Fumiko
ordered for the both of us and we had a bottle of wine
while we waited.
"Fumiko-san." I spoke slowly. "Are you angry with me?"
"No, I'm not, why do you ask?"
"I would like very much to be your friend." I chose my
words carefully. "I am only afraid that I have
disappointed you in some way. If I have...displeased
you...I beg your forgiveness, Fumiko-san."
"You do not displease me, Lisa." She smiled and adopted
the English version of my name. "I am very happy to be
with you, as if we are sisters now."
I smiled at her words. "I am sorry I have
misunderstood..." I started, but she cut me off.
"There is no need to apologize, I have not been so
friendly, you are right." She reached out to touch my
hand and I gripped her tiny fingers. "If you were mine,
perhaps this would be different between us, but..." She
made a small fluttering gesture with her other hand. "I
am only your friend, not your Mistress."
"I'm glad you're my friend, Fumiko-san." I smiled and
shifted in my seat, the plug in my ass grew extremely
uncomfortable when I sat down longer than 10 minutes or
so. "I am in love with your sister."
"I love her as well." Fumiko smiled sadly. "So perhaps
I am also jealous? I do not know."
"You call her Mistress also." I was trying to
understand.
"Yes. That is so, but it is because I wish it, not
because she demands it. She does not sleep with me,
Lisa." Fumiko looked pointedly at me. "As much as I
would have her, she will not have me. It is not proper
for us, she has told me, and I believe sometimes it is
cruel that I should feel this when she does not."
We had our dinner and returned to the apartment. I
removed my clothes and then my butt plug, washing it
before using the toilet. I was sore and my piercings
itched so Fumiko washed me gently. While we were in the
bath I looked at Fumiko shyly. "Do you...need to pee,
Fumiko?" I asked her.
"Why do you ask?" She gave me a little grin.
"Because I..." I blushed despite the cold water. "I
would like to learn.
I displeased Mistress Atsumi this morning, I think."
"No." Fumiko laughed and shook her head. "She was very
pleased by you."
I looked at my friend. "Are you sure? But she said..."
"Of course she cannot tell you, but you will learn
these things, you will know how to tell."
"But I would still like to...learn." I said softly.
"I think you did not like it." Fumiko washed my
breasts. They were still sore and the bruises were
faded yellowish-purple splotches. Her strong fingers
very nearly brought tears to my eyes as they worked the
tender flesh. "And I must also punish you yet, have you
forgotten that?"
I had forgotten that Mistress Atsumi wanted me
punished. I sat looking at Fumiko, not saying anything
while she finished bathing me. She pulled at the D-ring
gently, watching as the little bar threaded through the
swell of my mons pulled my flesh taut. I gasped a
little at the bit of pain and a tiny shudder went
through me.
Fumiko smiled at me, her angelic face seeming so
innocent and pure right then. "You are a true slave,
Lisa, you will never be satisfied by what we can do to
you, I think."
I was just sitting there, looking at her. "Yes." I said
softly, knowing she was right. I would protest and
resist and then only later would I realize how much I'd
enjoyed and needed it.
"But we will try." Fumiko giggled and stood up. I took
her hand and she pulled me to my feet as well. "Bend
over now."
I did as the small girl asked and grimaced slightly as
Fumiko pushed the plug back into my ass. My muscles
were being trained, I realized, there was very little
discomfort now. It went in easily and the overall
feeling was almost comfortable. Soon, I thought, it
would seem more uncomfortable to be without that hard
intrusive presence. I straightened back up and Fumiko
dried me off and led me into my bedroom where she
applied more of the cream to my piercings. My clit
burned under her touch and she stroked it just for a
second, teasing me.
"Lie down now and we will punish your breasts." Fumiko
said softly and I groaned at the thought. They were
still sore and discolored from the previous day, so
much so that I'd almost been certain that Fumiko would
have to find some other way to punish me. She caught my
look and just pushed me back. "Do not worry, Lisa-san,
this is very easy, you will see."
"But they are still sore, Fumiko. Please..." I couldn't
finish because the girl brought her hand to my cheek
with a hard stinging slap. I felt my eyes watering and
my whole body seemed to flush, not from the pain, which
was very slight, but from the shock and humiliation.
"I am sorry, Fumiko-san." I whispered immediately and I
sank back onto my bed, keeping my eyes tightly shut.
"Your Mistress loves you, Lisa." Fumiko spoke quietly,
her fingertips tracing my features. "And so I will love
you also. That is why I will do this, do you
understand?"
I nodded and my lips moved, but no sound escaped.
"And that is why you will accept it." She left the bed
and moved to the bureau, returning a moment later and
sitting next to me as I lay there. "Open your eyes
now."
"Yes...Mistress." I blinked at her. Fumiko was sitting
very erect, still naked and meltingly beautiful. She
held what looked like a leather belt, although it was
shaped more like a pretzel than anything else.
"Do not call me that." Fumiko slipped the strange belt
around my breasts. It was basically two small belts
connected together, I saw, so that they formed a shape
like the number eight. "We only have one Mistress, I am
doing this because she wishes it."
"You don't want to do this to me?" I asked, without
trying to be clever, only wanting to understand. She
cinched the belts tightly around each of my breasts,
one at a time. Once again it brought more discomfort
than real pain as the fatty tissue was squeezed to such
a small diameter that I feared Fumiko was going to
sever them.
"Of course I do." She giggled. "You have such wonderful
perfect breasts, Lisa-san, how could I ever tire of
this?" She sat back, watching as my tits seemed to
swell, plumping as if they were being filled with water
until the thin strips of leather that bound them were
almost invisible.
My body began protesting almost immediately, my chest
filling with an ache at first, a low burning sensation.
My nipples itched and hardened to twin dark points,
demanding attention. I had to fight to resist the urge
to touch myself. I arched my back and grabbed small
fistfuls of bed sheet, digging my fingers into the soft
cool fabric.
"Do not move." Fumiko told me sternly. "I will get the
candle." She gave me a little giggle as she left the
room.
While I struggled with the idea of Fumiko using hot wax
on my breasts, I watched as my once pale skin turned
pink and then slowly red. They felt as if they were on
fire and the feeling spread rapidly throughout my
entire body, centering it seemed on my sex. I pressed
my thighs together, all too aware of the moisture
weeping from my slit. I wanted to touch myself so
badly, to feel my breasts, to rub the sweet spot hiding
just behind my clit. I was trembling from the effort of
keeping my hands still.
Time was a lost concept to that awful growing torture,
how long had Fumiko been gone? Where was she, I
wondered. I needed her, I needed her attention, her
permission, her presence and approval. I was longing
for more, to be whipped, or waxed, or clamped, or
whatever else she wanted to do to me. The pain was
steadily growing worse, not from my bonds, but from
being denied. The belts were just enough to make me
want more, didn't she know that? I was supposed to be
punished, where was Fumiko? I had memories of being
whipped and I tried to relive it, to imagine Fumiko
stroking my flesh with her cane. The pain flashing
through me, bringing my blood to boiling, giving my
desire voice in screams of pain. I needed it now, more
than I'd ever needed anything.
"Stop!" Mistress Atsumi's voice startled me, making me
quiver with fear and anticipation. My hands were on my
belly, sliding up and down, halfway between my aching
swollen breasts and the fire burning between my thighs.
I didn't remember letting go of the sheets.
I stared at Mistress, feeling both shame and longing.
She was dressed nicely, presumably just arriving back
from the club. Fumiko stood naked behind her, not
smiling and whispering something to Atsumi who seemed
to wave the girl away.
"Mistress..." I couldn't help but smile, a little shyly
perhaps, but Atsumi frowned.
"Do not speak." She said and her words fell like a slap
to my face. She removed the belt from my breasts and
the sudden wave of pain made me cry out as blood rushed
back into my tortured flesh.
Fumiko returned with some handcuffs, real ones it
seemed, and Atsumi turned me over onto my stomach so
that my breasts were crushed painfully beneath my
weight. In this way Mistress bound me to the bed frame,
at my ankles and legs, so I was spread eagle and
completely exposed. By the time she'd finished, Fumiko
returned with a small black satchel. Atsumi opened it
and pulled out some vials, a small can and some
matches. She used a spoon, and some cotton, cooking
something on the nightstand and filling a syringe with
it.
"What is that, Mistress?" I asked her. I felt
uncomfortable, sensing it was something that I
shouldn't ever know about.
"It is heroin, Lisa-san. Now lie still and you will
like this." She brought the needle to my arm and I
protested then, telling her I didn't want it, that I
couldn't.
"Please," I begged her, "don't..." But it was too late.
She pushed the plunger and a moment later I felt the
most wonderful sensations. Floating and dreaming,
without a care in the world.
She made love to me then, removing the butt plug from
my ass and using a huge dildo that looked as though it
should have split me in two, but it didn't. It only
felt good and I was flying with her on top of me,
kissing me, fucking me over and over again until I
couldn't stop cumming. It was the most perfect and
beautiful experience of my life and all I could think
was that I never ever wanted her to stop.
At some point I guess I passed out and I woke up, still
chained to the bed, feeling sore and thirsty and I
needed to pee badly. The lights were still on and I
lifted my head weakly, looking over my shoulder to see
the large dildo protruding from my ass. It was massive,
stretching me unnaturally and I became aware of a
particular pain deep between my legs, like a cramp, but
not ending, not coming and going, just constant.
"You're awake now, good." It was Fumiko and she was
smiling at me.
"How do you feel."
"Sore. I need to use the bathroom."
Fumiko nodded and moved to the bed, reaching between my
legs and pulled the dildo from my ass. It had been
inside me at least 12 inches I thought, and it was
bulging in places, very wide and uneven, not a smooth
phallus at all. She set it aside and unlocked my cuffs,
letting me roll over slowly and finally sit up. Then
she handcuffed my hands behind my back. She did the
same with my ankles, locking the two lengths of chain
together, so I would have to shuffle my feet as I
walked.
"Why do you have to keep me like this?" I asked the
smaller woman. I felt like I was sleep walking, there
was no resistance inside me and the chains seemed
ridiculous.
She just shrugged. "It is part of your training."
"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. "Mistress...she
gave me something last night, heroin I think." It was
difficult to walk and the cramp between my legs was
worse when I moved.
"Yes, I know." Fumiko nodded. She carried the dildo and
my butt plug into the bathroom as I followed slowly.
She helped me sit down on the toilet and I felt a
little embarrassment having Fumiko there, but she
attended to washing the dildo and the butt plug in the
sink while I urinated.
"You must shit as well." Fumiko looked at me and I
wasn't sure I could. "The heroin will make you
constipated, but you are loose now."
I tried and pushed, but it hurt and I shook my head.
"Later, please?"
Fumiko just shrugged and wiped my pussy with some
toilet paper.
"Perhaps Mistress will give you an enema." She reached
down and fingered my asshole gently. "We will bathe
later." She told me.
Fumiko brought me back to the bedroom and chained me
once again to the bed, this time on my back. She pushed
the butt plug in my ass, asking me to raise my hips for
her. I felt a welcome pressure as the widest part
stretched my anus once again and then it slipped inside
and Fumiko pushed it snugly back into place.
I watched wordlessly as Fumiko retrieved the same kit
that Atsumi had used the night before and I asked her
why she was injecting me with heroin. "Didn't you like
it?" She asked me, smiling a little.
"Yes, I did like it. But isn't it...dangerous?"
"No, not like this. Mistress only wants to make you
hungry for it."
"She doesn't have to though." I whispered.
"Why is that?" Fumiko asked, pushing the needle into my
arm.
"Because...I'm hungry for her..." I felt the rush of
the drugs coming into my head and I felt like I was
swimming in a fire, but it didn't burn me, it just felt
good.
"You are a strange woman, Lisa-san." Fumiko was
undressing and I just stared at her. I thought she was
the most beautiful thing in the world just then,
glowing and flowing, like she was made of water, all
wet and warm.
"Are you wet?" I asked her, but she didn't understand
me.
"Drink this now." She straddled my face, kneeling over
my mouth and pressing her tiny pussy to my lips.
She was wet, all water and warm and salty as she poured
herself into my mouth, slowly at first and I drank
eagerly. Then she was bitter too and I felt my stomach
churning against her and I didn't want to drink this
girl. The drugs were twisting everything I knew,
confusing me and I wanted to be clear but it was so
hard. I swallowed as much as I could and felt some of
her running down my face, wetting my pillow and soaking
my hair and neck. Fumiko lifted herself and I breathed
deeply.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked her, because it seemed I must
have drank half of her small body already.
"What?" She laughed at me. "No, of course not. Do you
want more?"
"You're so small, Fumiko." I said and I licked my lips
wondering why she tasted like that.
"But I have a lot of piss for you. Drink." She put her
pussy back to my mouth and I clamped my lips over it,
feeling the girl filling my mouth again and again as I
swallowed.
And then Fumiko changed, slowly, dissolving and growing
into her sister, Atsumi as lights and shadows from the
window moved fast and slow, the world spinning away
without me.
"What time is it?" My voice was soft and tired and I
felt as though I could barely keep my eyes open.
"It is time for another injection." Atsumi smiled and I
realized she was holding the syringe.
"Oh..." I nodded, smiling. "I remember."
"Shhh...quiet now...Fumiko!" She called and a moment
later the girl appeared, naked and sweating, her body
flushed. "Hold her arm still."
"Yes Mistress." The girl grabbed my left arm tightly
and I watched dispassionately as Atsumi pricked my arm,
filling me with another dose of the wonderful drug.
"You have such a perfect body, Lisa-san. Good veins."
She withdrew the needle and kissed me. "Whip her."
Mistress told Fumiko and then she left.
Being whipped while on heroin is like...dying and going
to heaven, only to find that God had left the Marquis
de Sade in charge. Once again it was my breasts which
had to endure the punishment. Fumiko used a very small
switch made of wood. It was thin and flexible and it
was intensely painful. She whipped my tits for a long
time while my mind was trying to cope with the
dreamlike surreal quality the drugs lent to the scene.
At times it felt as though each small stroke was a
living thing, like a viper biting into my flesh,
insinuating itself beneath my skin, coiling and
writhing so that the welts seemed to wriggle and crawl
before my horrified eyes. At other times I was apart
from it, observing casually and feeling nothing. The
sharp slapping sound echoed in my ears, reverberating,
and I laughed and cried and felt myself going mad
beneath Fumiko's smiling gaze.
I don't think I ever fell totally asleep, but I wasn't
awake either. I was somewhere in between. Mistress
Atsumi was there and I looked at her. "I have to go to
work." I told her, since that was the first thought
that came into my head. The second thought was that I
was going to be sick. I felt my stomach cramping and I
had a dim memory of a dream, of drinking Fumiko's
urine.
"You are at work, Lisa-san." The woman looked at me and
I saw she was dressed in a wonderful kimono, pink and
white and blue, a classic design of Japanese cranes.
Her hair was put up and held in place with an ivory
comb. She had a powdered face and crimson lips, and her
eyes were black and beautiful.
I rolled over onto my side, bringing my hands
underneath my cheek like a little girl. It took me a
long moment to realize I was no longer chained to the
bed. "What did you do to me?" I whispered, watching
Mistress Atsumi as she just stood there, beautiful and
ethereal like a dream.
"I gave you a reward." Her voice was soothing. "Because
I love you so much. You must bathe and dress. I would
like you at the club tonight."
"I'm so...sleepy." I yawned and curled up a little
tighter. "Mistress..."
I breathed and then she was gone.
"Lisa...Lisa..." Someone was tugging at my arm and I
opened my eyes to see Fumiko. "Come with me now, we
need to get ready."
I stood and stretched, moving slowly and feeling sore
and stiff all over. I examined my breasts and they were
a mass of bruises, stained yellow and purple and black.
They were grotesque and beautiful I thought, criss-
crossed with welts that hadn't healed yet. My nipples
were puffy and swollen and colored dark red. I massaged
my tits tenderly, admiring how the swelling made them
seem even larger, the skin tight and warm.
"You're an artist, Fumiko-san" I giggled a little,
wondering if it was me, or if I was still a little high
on the drugs they'd given me.
"And you are a bad little slave." The lovely girl
chided me with a grin, pulling me by the arm to follow
her into the bathroom.
I used the toilet, although it was difficult, and
Fumiko rewarded me with a warm soapy enema. I'd never
experienced such a thing before, but it wasn't as
unpleasant as I'd feared. It actually felt good for a
little while and about the time it became uncomfortable
I was allowed to expel the dirty fluid. This was
repeated twice more until Fumiko was satisfied and then
she washed the rest of me, paying careful attentions to
my piercings, which were healing well, she said.
Fumiko replaced my butt plug and fastened my collar
around my neck and allowed me to dress in something
reasonable, at least by the standards to which I was
becoming used to. A cream colored leather miniskirt and
a red silk blouse, sans bra of course, so my nipples
protruded obscenely. I put on a red thong, pulling it
up to my pubic piercing and letting the metal D-ring
hang loose. Some red fishnet stockings and cream
colored heels finished it all off. I made up my face
and brushed my hair, tying it back in a pony tail,
while Fumiko dressed herself.
Fumiko emerged wearing looking like a Goth goddess in
what had to be an authentic German SS uniform, or part
of one anyway. She wore gleaming black jack boots into
which her black wool trousers were tucked neatly. The
pants were pleated and tailored to hug her hips and ass
nicely, ballooning slightly at the knees. She wore no
blouse at all, just a black wool jacket, casually
buttoned so that her breasts were exposed when she
moved. It had some silver embroidered epaulets, for
rank I guessed, though I had no idea what it was. There
was silver piping around the collar and cuffs, and a
patch with an eagle holding a swastika on the left
breast. Around her neck she wore a black ribbon with a
black and silver iron cross dangling from it. On her
head she wore a peaked cap in silver and black with a
gleaming skull pinned on the front. She carried a
leather riding crop, slapping it against her thigh as
she stared at me and her face was painted white, with
deep black eyes and crimson lips. On the whole it was
both frightening and terribly exciting, I thought.
Fumiko attached the leash to my collar and led me
outside and I could only imagine what people must have
thought of us. Me, tall, blonde and American, and
dressed like a prostitute, being led on a leash by a
small elfin Japanese girl costumed as evil incarnate. I
kept my eyes down for much of the short walk to the
subway station, avoiding the stares and trying to
ignore the comments and giggles. It was early evening
and the streets were crowded, the trains would be even
worse, I knew.
Standing on the subway, everyone was pushed very close
together. I stood facing Fumiko, her face coming just
to my breasts and I looked down on her as we moved from
stop to stop, with interminable periods of swaying in
between. We had 6 stops before arriving at Shinagawa
Station and we'd transfer to a real train. Between the
3rd and 4th I suddenly felt someone's hand on my thigh,
stroking up the back of my leg towards my barely
covered ass. I sucked a little breath of air and my
body tensed causing Fumiko to look up sharply into my
face.
"What is wrong?" She asked softly.
The hand was playing along the tops of my stockings now
and I closed my eyes for a second, feeling both slight
embarrassment and pangs of excitement at being touched
like that in public by a stranger. It brought back
memories of previous encounters and a part of me missed
that, I thought.
"Someone is touching me..." I spoke softly as well, but
doubtless a few people around us could hear, perhaps
even the man whose fingers were moving ever upward
toward my sex.
Fumiko moved a little, peeking around to see who was
doing it. "Do you want him to stop, Lisa-san?" She said
a little louder.
The fingers abruptly moved away from me and I blinked,
shaking my head slowly. "No, I...I enjoy it." I looked
into Fumiko's eyes trying to find some understanding,
but she seemed confused by my complicity. "It is a
secret pleasure."
"Is it?" Fumiko's voice sounded doubtful. "Very well.
Take off your panties then." She ordered.
"What? Fumiko..." I started to protest but the look in
her eyes, the realization that she was losing face in
front of the strangers with ever word I uttered, broke
my will. "Yes...Fumiko-san."
If there'd been enough room I would have bowed in
apology, as it was I slowly and somewhat clumsily
worked my thong down my thighs, letting gravity pull
them to my ankles. I bent my knees, crouching straight
down to retrieve them, feeling the plug in my ass
protesting the unusual movement. I could also feel the
eyes of several dozen people, mostly men, but more than
a few women as well, watching me. I stood up, red faced
and breathless, staring into Fumiko's eyes.
She took my red thong from my fingers silently, handing
them to someone behind me, presumably the man who had
been touching me. "You wanted to feel these?" Fumiko's
voice was loud enough to attract even more attention
than we had already, if that was possible. I closed my
eyes and felt my body burning up. "Take them home and
give them to your daughter, pervert."
I don't know if Fumiko threw them in his face, or if he
took them from her hand, or if she just dropped them on
the floor. I'd had my eyes tightly shut and when I
opened them again, all I knew was that I no longer had
any underwear at all. I felt horribly exposed like
that, as if everyone could see under my short skirt. I
imagined people seeing the bit of rubber from the base
of the butt plug protruding from my ass as I walked. Or
the rings in my vagina, or the pearl on my clit. I felt
cold and hot all over and Fumiko just smiled at me,
enjoying her game immensely.
"It is better now for you, Lisa-san?" She almost
giggled. "Now if a man wants you, we will have to find
something else to remove."
I swallowed nervously at the thought that Fumiko would
make me remove the plug from my ass in public. That
would be too much, even for the bizarre permissive
world of Tokyo mass transit. Luckily the rest of our
little trip was uneventful, despite my much too
overactive imagination.
Exiting Yokohama Station we took a taxi to the club and
inside it was much as I remembered it. There were a few
dozen customers, even though it was early, even by
Japanese standards. Fumio led me back, past the bar and
down the short hallway to the dressing room. There were
3 Japanese girls inside, one of them I remembered as
the girl in the bikini who'd assisted Mistress Atsumi
the night I'd been there. They were all young,
somewhere between 18 and 22 I'd guess and strikingly
beautiful. Fumiko largely ignored their respectful
greetings and introduced me quickly.
"This is Miki and her sister, Niya." Fumiko gestured to
the two I hadn't seen before. "And this is Ayu. Miki
and Niya will perform tonight, always together, so you
will see them." Fumiko smiled and the girls nodded
happily. "Ayu is Mistress Atsumi's assistant, you have
seen her before. We have 6 other girls, hostess girls
who will sit with the customers and sometimes perform
on the stage. You will meet them later."
"Are you a Russian?" Niya asked me and I shook my head,
smiling and telling them I'm American.
"See? I told you!" Her sister Miki laughed. "You are so
stupid."
"I am not. She looks Russian!" Niya was taking off what
was unmistakably a school uniform, like something out
of a Sailor Moon comic. Her sister was already naked,
sitting on a metal folding chair and working her small
body into a white fishnet body stocking.
"How old are you?" I asked Niya.
"That depends on who is asking!" Miki giggled.
"That's enough talking, they are 17 now." Fumiko had
been digging through some plastic containers, finding
what I would need for the evening. "You will be a
hostess tonight, Lisa-san."
"We come here after school." Niya said. She was
standing in her panties now.
Atsumi appeared briefly, just looking into the small
room. She barely looked at me, focusing instead on
Fumilo and Atsumi told her to dress me for working, but
to make sure my breasts were bound again. I started to
speak, not understanding this at all, when Atsumi waved
her hand. "And a gag also, she is beautiful but I am
tired to hear her voice now." My Mistress disappeared
then and that was perhaps the hardest lesson, that in
the club I would have to share her attentions and
doubtless there would be times when I would feel the
loser for it.
Fumiko pulled me along with her to the offices, where
there was a dressing room and several wardrobe closets,
the temporary sort made of cardboard and plastic that
the Japanese favor. I tried asking Fumiko what was
going on, but she jus told me she didn't know. The
young woman used a strange sort of gag that I'd never
seen before. It was hard rubber, red and shaped like a
very thin `O' that fit into my mouth, stretching it
open as much as it possibly could. There were two thin
straps that went to the back of my head. It felt
strange and I realized there was a depressor on the
underside that effectively trapped my tongue.
"Do not remove that." Fumiko warned me with a smile,
but her eyes were serious. "Or Mistress Atsumi will be
unhappy with you."
Next she fitted my breasts with two thin leather belts,
one around each of my breasts, pulling them so tight I
thought she'd cinch my boobs right off my chest. I
gasped as a fresh wave of pain awoke the welts that I
still sported. Fumiko pushed at my back, bending me
over so she could remove the plug in my ass. She helped
me into a black leather thong and then a pair of black
fishnet stockings that came mid-thigh. A pair of
stiletto heels, black leather, completed my `uniform'
and Fumiko stepped back to admire me.
"You will sit with customers. You are not a waitress,
so you will sit and do what they will tell you to." She
watched as I nodded. "I will be close to you, so you
will not be hurt tonight."
I followed her down the hall and we exited through the
bar where I was immediately seized upon by a Japanese
man sitting by himself. He crooked his finger at me and
I looked at Fumiko who nodded. I walked over, having
absolutely no idea what I was doing or what the man was
expecting.
"I see you do not talk, eh?" The Japanese man was
perhaps 40 years old, with the superior attitude that
I'd come to deplore in many of the Japanese men I'd
come into contact with. "Well that is good, because I
do not want your mouth to talk, bitch."
The word sounded terrible in Japanese and it took me a
moment to recognize it. He told me to remove his penis
and watched as I gave him a blowjob with people waking
past, or sitting nearby at there tables, seeing me and
commenting on the American woman. I was so embarrassed
by this I almost couldn't finish, but I had little
choice anyway. My mouth was locked open and eventually
the man just grabbed a fistful of my hair and moved my
mouth the way he wanted it until he came.
Swallowing was extremely difficult and I made quite a
mess, which did not make the Japanese man happy at all.
I shrank away from him as he voiced his opinion of
American whores who couldn't even swallow a man's cum
properly. He slapped at my tits painfully and I started
crying, although more from outrage and embarrassment
than any real injury to my body.
Fumiko came over and I looked at her hopefully, certain
that she would protect me from this man. It wasn't my
fault the man had cum all over himself. If I hadn't had
to wear this silly gag I could have given him a real
blowjob, didn't he know that? Fumiko, I was sure, would
straighten everything out.
"This stupid cow has ruined my trousers." The man
pointed his finger at me. "It's an insult and she did
it deliberately."
"Is this true, Lisa-san?" Fumiko stared at me and I
couldn't believe my ears. I shook my head vigorously.
"She's a lying bitch." The man pronounced and Fumiko
nodded.
"She must be punished, sir. Will you do it?" She was
bowing to the man now and I felt my whole body flush
with anger.
"Yes." He said and I waited silently, wondering what my
punishment would be. Fumiko returned with a strange
looking whip. It had a handle and 7 long flat strips of
leather attached to it. I guess it was for flogging,
similar to a cat o'nine tails, but slightly less
abusive. I would soon learn though that it was capable
of producing quite a lot of pain when used properly.
I was laid over the small round table on my back and I
heard Fumiko talking to the man. "Sir, this slave is
still in training, only her breasts may be punished."
The man grunted and lost no time flogging my breasts.
He must have used one before, because he had a way of
snapping his wrist at precisely the right instant to
crack the ends over whichever part of my skin he
preferred. Invariably that seemed to be my nipples and
I was soon writhing in pain upon that small stage. A
number of onlookers had moved closer, commenting on the
man's skill. I sobbed loudly, but with the gag in my
mouth it sounded like a curious mewling sound and it
got no response but laughter.
He flogged me for perhaps 10 minutes, a good fifty
blows I would imagine, maybe more. My tits were hot and
dark red now, and every touch on my flesh left a
lingering stain of white. They burned and I was swept
up once again by an indescribable pleasant sensation
beneath it all, struggling to surface. My hips were
moving, but not jerking as the rest of me was, they
were grinding as if searching for something and I had
my hands there eventually, pressing against my sex as
the last few blows fell.
The man noticed, as did more than a few others. "The
bitch likes it." He laughed. "This was no punishment!"
He dropped the whip on my heaving belly and moved away
from me.
"Come sit with me now." I barely had time to think
before another man was pulling me to my feet. Fumiko
did nothing to interfere, she merely picked up the
whip, and so I followed the man as though I were
drugged. He was younger, maybe late twenties and he
brought me to a table where two friends of his sat,
also young men. "I am Keisu, this is Aisen, and Tomasu.
You are so beautiful why do you let them do this to
you?"
His words made very little sense. I was still trying to
catch my breath and it felt as if my whole body were
throbbing with the fire centered in my breasts. I
looked at him, but of course I couldn't speak.
It didn't really matter anyway, because despite the
man's pleasant manner and polite introductions, it soon
became obvious that he and his friends were only really
interested in fucking an American. I had no idea what I
was expected to do, or even if there were limitations
to what I could do, so I did not resist. I pulled my
thong to the side and straddled them one at a time,
facing them so they could play with my abused tits
while I rode their cocks with my stretched and ready
ass. It was what I'd been aching for and the men were
very pleased that they were making me cum so quickly
and often. The truth is I would have gotten off riding
a doorknob; these guys were just in the right place at
the right time. But if I've learned anything, Japanese
men have egos made out of glass.
It was a very long night, the club did not close until
2am and by that time I had sucked or fucked about a
dozen men. I'd been punished 3 times, always by a
flogging across my tits. I had the belts removed and
put back on several times and that was even worse than
the floggings. When the bonds of my breast were removed
and blood flowed back into the bruised and oxygen
starved cells, it was like the floodgates to hell had
been opened. It was the most painful thing in the world
for 5 or 10 minutes and then it would subside to a dull
throbbing ache that never went entirely away.
Fumiko removed the gag from my mouth and it hurt just
to close it. I had to practice talking because my jaw
was so stiff. "You have done very well tonight Lisa-
san." My sister told me, for that was how I thought of
her now.
"I did not understand why you let that man punish me."
I spoke slowly, trying to pronounce the difficult words
correctly with my stiff jaws. Fumiko looked at me,
giving me a seductive smile. "Now I understand. Thank
you, Fumiko-san." I bowed to her, wanting her very much
to know that I was learning.
"Quiet now, we will bathe and you will go with Mistress
Atsumi tonight." She smiled at the look on my face,
understanding that I was thinking myself to weary for
more adventure. "We are like vampires, Lisa-san. We
live at night, you will see. It is also for your
training."
She giggled and led me to the small bath, frowning at
Niya and Miki, who were already inside, splashing each
other playfully. She grabbed the closest by her hair,
but which of the twins it was I had no way of knowing,
and pulled the girl to her feet. "Go home now, or I'll
crucify you and leave you on stage for a week!" The
girl laughed and danced away, smiling at me. The other
one rose slowly, grabbing a towel as Fumiko slapped her
small round ass. "And you I will have mounted by a
dog!"
"Do you promise?" The girl giggled and hurried out
before Fumiko could spank her again.
"They are a terrible tease, don't you think?" Fumiko
sighed and I smiled, nodding my head.
"I have done that." I spoke as Fumiko washed me
carefully.
"Done what?" She worked her soapy fingers into my ass
and I gave a little moan.
"Been mounted by a dog." I admitted. "By three dogs."
Fumiko laughed at that. "And did you enjoy it Lisa-
san?"
"I did not think I enjoyed it so much at the time." I
nodded with a smile of my own at the memory. "But now I
feel I can tell myself that yes, I did enjoy it very
much."
"Then I shall have to speak with your Mistress about a
pet." I looked up sharply, uncertain if the girl was
teasing me or not, and she laughed, giving me no clue
as to her intentions.
I dressed in different clothes than I had arrived in.
Thhis was a simple red cotton jumpsuit, like coveralls
that a mechanic might wear. The zipper went from my sex
to a point midway between my swollen and bruised
breasts, leaving them exposed in a most obscene manner.
I wore no underwear, merely my buttplug and my collar.
But it was comfortable enough, even sexy, despite the
utilitarian design of it. The shoes, also, were an
incongruous touch, with their 3" heels, but there was
little that could be done for that.
"Is she ready?" Mistress Atsumi walked in just as I was
straightening up and Fumiko brushed my hair quickly.
"Yes, Mistress." Fumiko replied and she turned to me,
giving me a kiss on the cheek. "She is perfect."
I didn't know what was going on, but I hurried after
Mistress Atsumi, falling into step behind her. She
paused at the door, clipping her leash to my collar and
giving me a small smile. "I watched you very closely
tonight. I think you are learning, slave."
"Thank you Mistress." I lowered my eyes, blushing at
the unexpected praise.
"We will go to rest now, we have a home near Fuji-san.
It is a place where you will be safe and we will learn
from each other, I think. You have been busy; you're
tired and you need to heal. Tokyo is not good for
that." She looked outside briefly as a taxi pulled up
to the curb. "Tell me your thoughts now, quickly
slave!"
"I love you, Mistress." What other thought could I
have?
Once in the taxi and I sat back, curling up against
Mistress Atsumi as if were a child again. I felt so
tired. My entire body ached. There was something else
too; a small yearning to be back in my bed, dreaming
once more with the drugs I'd been given. It was only a
tiny thing though, the stirrings of an addiction I
feared, and I tried to dismiss it. For her part,
Mistress Atsumi largely ignored me, sitting straight
and proper, staring straight ahead. Only her fingers
betrayed any interest in me whatsoever, playing slowly
at the large zipper between my breasts and occasionally
brushing my tender flesh.
The ride was a long one, several hours even with the
light traffic and I fell asleep, only to be awakened by
Atsumi's gentle voice in my ear. "Wake up, pet."
I looked around, stretching as much as the back seat
allowed and wondering where I was...
end
rache696@yahoo.com
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 64