("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- 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. -------------------------------------------------------- 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 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 64